Fic: The Bride Wore Champagne
Title: The Bride Wore Champagne
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3K
Notes: written for smpc
Summary: Jensen writes up weddings, and Jared takes pictures. This one is slightly different.
"This party looks like someone who thinks the epitome of grace and elegance can be found in a Ferrero Rocher commercial," Jensen said, with a dour look at the under served champagne table, and the overdone flowers.
"Ungracious," Jared said, and took a languid snap of the happy couple as they posed with intent, and a need to get every one of the many, many presents into the background. "They're having fun."
"Fun," Jensen said, just a tinge of loathing in his voice. "Very fun."
"Oh you'll change your mind when it comes to the write up. It's what you're paid for."
"Not enough," Jensen said, and made a small note of the exact shade of violet that the unhappy bridesmaids had been crammed into. He was good at weddings. Very good at weddings, and as with anything that he was good at, it'd come back to bite him in the ass. What had been a once-off gig at a gossip rag, had metamorphasised into what his life was right now. Trawling from D-list wedding to D-list wedding, having to find new synonyms for charming, expensive and media-hungry, and getting a closer acquaintance with flower names than he'd ever expected to have.
"Ooh, I know the next one," Jared said, without taking his eyes off the small trays that had begun to circulate. "Tell me how in your day people were happy to have roses."
"Fuck you," Jensen said, without much heat, but keeping his voice low, because people generally disapproved of his language at events like this. "It's not my fault that rose is significantly easier to spell than chrysanthemum."
"Autumn wedding," Jared pointed out. "If they had roses, you'd be talking about their carbon footprint. Can't have it both ways."
"I know I can't," Jensen said. "If I did, Samantha would let me implement what I've been proposing all along, an automatic article generator. Insert preferred genders, relevant colours, suitable adjectives, mix and pour. Instant wedding cocktail. But apparently that's demeaning."
"It probably wouldn't sell well either," Jared pointed out, eminently practical. "You'd also be out of a job."
"I could go back to real news," Jensen said. "Making a difference. Uncovering dumpster misuse. Recycling Awareness Day. The peccadillos of local councillors."
"Speaking of which," Jared said with a nudge. "Is that who I think it is, behind that pillar with the extremely beautiful blonde who is most definitely not his wife?" He raised his camera to snap a picture, and Jensen jogged his arm.
"Not him," he said. "He does it every time. I wrote it up once, a scathing expose of the rotten underbelly of our reality TV show elite. Samantha cut it because he's legalhappy." He paused. "Oh yeah, and because she knows him. Corruption runs deep Jared."
Jared put down the camera, a little bit of disappointment in his eyes. "I could always sell it to "Alright"," he said. "They appreciate a good, filthy snap of a man doing the dirty on his wife and three kids."
"Four," Jensen amended. "Regardless Jared, you're the only one with a camera in this entire joint. Exclusive rights remember. Samantha locked them down on the first baby front as well. Adorable pictures of knit cap covered tiny heads are in your not-too-distant future. So if snaps of Mr Reasonably Connected show up, there's going to be fingers pointing your way."
There was no flaw to be found with his logic, Jensen knew this because it was his logic. He edged closer to the champagne because there were perks of the job, and a reasonable quantity of a decent champage was one of them. Jared had intercepted one of the small trays of deconstructed blinis that were circulating, and Jensen's fingers were just close enough to grab a couple of glasses when fingers seized his suit jacket.
The bride had the look of a woman more in need of champagne than Jensen, and she was the one footing the bill so he courteously let her take the glasses. She drained them both, one after the other, and snapped her fingers for the bottle. Jensen thought for a moment of the article that he could write, and mentally wondered if he could slip "the bride was tired and emotional" past Samantha.
"Rough day?" he said, and she stared at him.
"You could say that. I never knew weddings could drag on so long."
Jensen privately thought that this wasn't quite truthful, since this was her third, and the second he'd attended, and that had been equally as prolonged. She seemed to remember who she was talking to, and switched on an extremely bright smile. "My assistant gave you all the dress details I hope."
"Of course," Jensen said, and reeled off the details pat. He had a lot of experience with weddings. By the end, she looked quite impressed. "I liked the sleeves."
"It's a bit different," she said. "Nancy thought I should stick with strapless, but I wanted a change."
Jared was standing behind her and looking mournfully at the champagne, mouth tugged down at the corners in a grotesque parody of sad yearning. Jensen tried not to look at him for fear that he might laugh. Time for his annual good deed. "You could go," he suggested. "I've got the dress, flowers, drinks, bridesmaids, gift favors, and pretty much everything. Give Jared a couple more smiles and call it a night. Advice from your friendly neighbourhood rag."
She looked at him, and then back at the bottle. "You're right," she said with a sigh, and shoved it at him. He took it and squinted at the inch left.
"I'll take a new one," he said to the bored looking waiter. The man didn't blink, just pushed one over. Jared was enthusiastically snapping away more studiously unposed shots, always with his back to the plate he'd nabbed from the server as though he thought someone might try and take it. Fifteen minutes later, the bride and groom had vanished to the honeymoon suite, and the crowd were beginning to fall apart in interesting ways.
Jensen eyed the now empty champagne bottle, and the food crumbs, and jerked his head at Jared, who read him with ease. They knew this hotel.
"Remember the hot tub," Jared said wistfully. He hadn't taken off his tie, a fact that astounded Jensen.
"I do," he admitted. To the hotel staff, they were just another couple of guests, and that meant guest privileges. He tended to make the most of them, because he was good at his job, but he didn't make enough to stay at places like this on the regular. Last time, he and Jared had colonized the hot tub until they were thrown out.
He felt Jared's fingers hook into the back of his collar, a little tickle of feeling across his neck. It was a bad idea, it was always a bad idea. But it was a wedding, and those were Jared's weakness. Something about them made him sentimental. And if Jensen wanted more than once off wedding hookups (and the occasional christening), that was his business, and nobody would drag that out of him. So he leaned back into it, nudged the solid weight of Jared, handsome in his suit, looking more the part than anyone else in the room. "Let's get out of here."
Out of here was the next room and a flimsy lock. Jensen had a strong suspicion that Jared had a voyeuristic streak in him, but he wasn't complaining. "How are you still wearing a tie?" he asked, with no real expectation of an answer, as his fingers were busy unpicking the knot at the top.
"Because I know you like taking it off for me," Jared said, and there was an embarrassing amount of warmth in his eyes. Jensen viciously squashed the wild hope that was making a rogue bid for control of the situation.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, and finished undoing it. Jared was right, there was something about the slither of it through his fingers, quite literally undoing Jared like he was one of the wedding presents, that just really worked for Jensen. He tossed it to the floor, well out of reach of Jared - the last time they'd been here, Jared had taken unfair advantage of it in tying up Jensen's wrists and giving him the slowest blowjob until Jensen was begging him to just get on with it. Jared had been half-laughing the whole time, as though that was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. He kissed Jared as he undid the top button, Jared's wide mouth curved in a smile still, soft and warm under his lips, agreeably pliable for the moment at least, obligingly letting Jensen in.
There's nothing really new about this. They've been working together for two years, covering wedding after wedding. Jensen's seen the ceilings of more expensive hotels than he cares to think about, he's fucked Jared time after time, and bitten his lip so he doesn't suggest that they do this when they're not being paid for it. Jared had turned him down flat the first time he'd asked, and Jensen had been too burnt to try again. Jared kissing him had been a surprise the first time, and only a little less every time after that. He's fully aware that the pining is pretty pathetic, but he can't stop.
Jared was kissing him back properly now, sweet slide of his tongue against Jensen's. He tasted very faintly and distantly of cigarette ash, masked under way too much spearmint and champagne. It's a measure of how fucking gone Jensen is, that he didn't even mind. Jared's hands were busy undoing the zip of Jensen's pants, even as they kissed, hand cradling the bulge of Jensen's dick, rubbing gently over it, like he just wanted to touch. It's that, Jensen thought distantly through the blur of heat and alcohol that's suffusing him, that kept him coming back, every time Jared touches like it's something he wants to do forever. It was frustrating, not enough pressure, an appetizer not a main course, and he thrust his hips against Jared, an unsubtle hint to hurry up. Jared laughed against his mouth, and slipped his hand into Jensen's boxers and ran his thumb over his cockhead, still teasing.
Jared had told Jensen too many times how much he liked this, how hot it was that Jensen got so wet with precome, likes to paint his lips with it, an endless tease before he goes down properly. They've ended more than one evening like that, Jared sucking him down, clever tongue going wild, pulling back so Jensen can come on his face, as he jerks himself off with a swift economy of motion. That night it wasn't going to be enough. They don't usually fuck unless there's a bed, but there's exceptions to every rule and it was what Jensen wanted tonight. Didn't want stupidly tender kisses or blowjobs that took an hour and resulted in Jared being unable to speak above a whisper for a day, or even to watch Jared go fucking mad on his dick, slippery slope of his back pushing back for more, head hanging down and silent for once as though if he spoke, Jensen might stop.
He wanted to get fucked, edge of pain from Jared's dick, as though the thin thread of it might remind him of what this was, keep him grounded instead of cutting him loose on drunken hope. It was the champagne, he knew. He got so maudlin on champagne that his friends generally took it out of his hands on the premise that friends don't let friends make an ass of themselves. He bit at Jared's mouth, not quite enough to hurt, but enough to let Jared know he meant business. Jared sensed the mood change, and started fumbling with his own pants, tugging them down in indecent haste, half naked and ludicrous. Jensen didn't bother stripping his shirt off, kicked one leg out of his pants, and fumbled the lube out of his pocket. He'd intended on fingering himself, fast and hard with enough lube to take the edge off, not enough that he wouldn't feel the burn. Jared was too quick for him though, plucked it from his hands, and held Jensen against the wall with the strength of his shoulders, walked slippery fingers down his ass, and slipped one in with ease, a second one as well just moments later, tucking them in together fast and hard. He was always good at reading Jensen.
Jensen could feel the dampness of his shirt on his back, sticking to his skin as Jared's heat bled through and made his head spin. He was pinned to the wall by nothing more than Jared's fingers, the press of his knuckles at the tender stretch of his ass, holding Jensen open with ease, third one nudging in with it's fellows, because Jared loves this bit on either side of it, will do it for as long as he's allowed, take it for as long as he's given. He was pretty much fucking Jensen with them, swift snap of his wrist, driving Jensen forward against the wall into the hand he's got round his dick, and Jensen could come from it - Jared's as clever with his hands as his dick, but he wants more.
Jared had a hand in the small of his back, slipping under the shirt, palming along the skin, the touch reassuring and aggravating in equal measure. Jensen squirmed underneath it, and after a moment Jared took it away. In a trick Jensen wants to master, Jared rolled the condom on with his left hand, and tugged Jensen a little open with his fingers, as though he planned to fuck him with both his fingers and his dick, a thought that sent far too much heat through Jensen, shiver of arousal at the thought, and he leant his head against the wall, let the coolness bring him back just a little.
Jared was slippery and felt huge, even bigger like this, where Jensen couldn't see him, faceless and silent, like he knew Jensen didn't want to hear the usual stream of adoring dirty talk that Jared generally spills out when he fucks. The first push was intense, Jensen sucked in a gasp of air as he braced himself for more, the unrelenting insistence of Jared's dick splitting him open, and it's different. Jared's different. Usually he took it slow, liked driving Jensen to the brink of begging, and then finally letting himself go. This time he fucked fast from the start, snapped his hips forward hard and sharp, gets himself in, and gives Jensen the sort of fuck he's been wanting all night - while he watched Jared laugh and joke and flirt with the prettiest bridesmaid.
It was good, hurt just a little, but not enough that Jensen wanted it to stop. Just the sort of fuck that is what it is, a hookup fuck by someone he's lucky enough to call a friend, and he let himself enjoy it, wiped his mind of everything except the drive of Jared's hips, and the feel of his dick, screwed his own hand as he braced himself against the thrusts, fast and dirty, until Jared came. He was kind of surprised when Jared pulled out - he usually liked staying in until the last possible second and getting Jensen off like that, but he leveraged it anyway, came hot over his own fingers.
Then Jared's fingers were pulling him around, and Jared's face looked like he was about thirty seconds away from falling apart. "That what you wanted?" he said. "Because it felt like I was a fucking dildo to be honest with you."
The champagne's worn off, and Jensen was suddenly cold and unbelievably tired, felt like a fool, hand still round his dick, and Jared looking at him like he'd done something wrong. Jared snorted. "Last time," he said, and there was bitterness in his voice, aimed not at Jensen even, but at himself.
Jensen wasn't stupid, though he was beginning to think he might be, and it was pretty damn obvious what Jared was talking about. "You said no," he said. "At the beginning. Said no, and expected it not to make a difference."
"And then I kept saying yes," Jared said, quietly. He had peeled the condom from his dick, and pulled up his boxers and Jensen was feeling at a disadvantage. He pulled up his own, sore now, all the glow from the champagne and the fuck vanished. "Ask me again."
It's all on the line and that was Jensen's least favorite place to be. "Come out Friday?" and it took all that he's got to spit it out, and then a little bit extra not to go weak at the knees at the smile that Jared gave.