I'll Sing My Song 1/2 (Jared/Jensen, rated R)

[tebtosca]

“Whatcha doing this summer, Jay?” Milo asks, flopping down at the lunch table next to Sophia, who is too busy playing with her iPad to notice when he steals a couple of her French fries.

Jared shrugs, brushing his bangs out of his face. “Working with my dad at the shop, I guess. Nothing special. You?”

Milo grins and attempts to grab one more fry, but Sophia is quicker this time and swats him. “I think I’m finally going to convince Alexis that I’m the only guy for her and that we only have senior year coming up left to have hot teen monkey sex.”

Sophia snorts, but still doesn’t look up.

“Hot teen monkey sex sounds both repulsive and terrifying, and I’m pretty sure Al agrees with me,” Jared points out, concentrating on detangling the gummi worms that have started sticking together in the bag from the lack of proper AC in the lunch room.

Milo waves his hand dismissively. “You’re just saying that because your gay virgin ass hasn’t gotten any yet.”

“Aw, Milo, “Jared drawls. “I didn’t know you thought about my ass that much.”

“Not like that,” Milo squeaks as Sophia snickers.

Of course, that is the moment Matt comes sauntering over to the table, one arm flung casually over his girlfriend Mandy. Jared gulps and looks pointedly down at his gummi worms.

“Hey guys, you got room for two more?” Matt asks, but he’s bumping Milo down the bench and tucking Mandy in at his side anyway. He grins over at Jared. “Hey Jay, you coming over this weekend to play Madden? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Sophia looks up, glancing between Jared and Matt curiously. Her expression clears after a second and she speaks up before Jared can stumble for an answer. “Jared promised me he’d teach me how to play dorky teen pop on my new keyboard this weekend. Didn’t you, Jay?”

Jared smiles at her gratefully. “Well, duh. What is my life without dorky teen pop, right?”

Matt looks disappointed for a moment, then shrugs it off and turns his attention back to Mandy. There’s a pang in Jared’s chest, and he reaches into his messenger bag next to him, fingering the notebook that is always close by.

Sophia, bless her dimpled soul, jumps in with a distraction courtesy of one of the gossip sites she has pulled up on her iPad. “So it looks like Jensen Ackles just checked into rehab. Although dlisted is insisting that he really had a freak accident while giving a blowjob and had to have plastic surgery on his mouth.”

“It must be so much pressure to be famous so young,” Mandy says, face contorting into a sympathetic little frown.

Jared rolls his eyes so hard they nearly fall out. “Yeah, must be so tough to be a famous pop star and have the entire world at your beck and call. Cry me a river.”

“Ah, c’mon Jay. I’d end up in a crackhead, too, if someone made me dance around in half-shirts and make obnoxious hand gestures,” Milo grins, doing his best (worst) impersonation of Jensen’s last music video.

Sophia reaches over and smacks Milo on the head. “Hey, be nice. Kryp 3 has some catchy songs. I’m going to force Jared to teach them all to me this weekend.”

“Soph,” Jared whines. “The Jonas Brothers were bad enough last time. Why are you trying to steal what’s left of my dignity?”

“You haven’t had dignity since that time you let Milo convince you that earthworms tasted like gummi worms.”

“I was seven.”

“My point stands.”

They grin at each other as the bell rings.




“Mom, I’m home,” Jared hollers, throwing his bag on the couch and walking into the kitchen, where his mother is baking what smells deliciously like peach muffins. Having a chef for a mom is awesome.

“Oh, there you are!” Sherri Padalecki beams, placing the tray of freshly baked treats on the rack atop the butcher block and stripping off her oven mitts. She comes over to Jared and grabs his face to give him a big kiss on the cheek.

“Mom,” Jared laughs, pushing her off. His mom is such a dork.

“I am your mother and I can smooch my son as much as I want,” she says with mock sternness, before bursting into a big grin. Her dimples are even deeper than his, and no one would ever think to say he didn’t come straight out of her DNA.

“Why are you so happy today? Don’t tell me a new muffin recipe is getting you this excited,” Jared asks, cocking an eyebrow and flinging himself onto a bar stool. He makes a grab for a muffin and burns his fingers. “Ow!”

She smacks his hand. “Serves you right for touching! But, forget that, I have news for you, honey. News that I think you’re going to be very happy with.”

Jared stills. News that makes your mother excited cannot be a good thing, right? “Uh oh. I’m not being sent to Aunt Ethel’s for the summer, am I? No matter what she tells you, I did not like helping her redecorate the attic.”

Sherri laughs, and sits down on the stool next to him. “No Aunt Ethel this time. Although she swears that you were the one that picked out the purple chintz.”

“Aunt Ethel still calls me ‘Bob’ half the time, even though I keep telling her that’s the name of her cat and not her nephew,” Jared pouts, sneaking a hand over to the muffins again, just to test.

Sherri puts her hand on Jared’s shoulder and turns him to look at her. “So remember that Camp Sing-a-Long place that you were looking at last year? I know that you were disappointed when we couldn’t afford it, even though you’re a pretty good actor when you want to be.”

Jared blushes and she fondly pushes the bangs out of his face and continues. “Well, I just signed a contract to take care of all catering for the camp this summer and part of that contract is that my amazingly talented son gets to attend as well.”

Jared stares at her, dazed. “You mean, I get to go? For the whole summer? Are you serious?”

She grins wide and squeezes his neck. “The whole summer, honey. And even better, this year they have a special songwriting contest going on and the winning song will be recorded by a special guest star that they haven’t announced yet.”

Jared almost knocks her off the bar stool as he starts jumping around, flailing his arms like a maniac. “Holy shit, Mom! Holy shit!”

“Language, Jared,” Sherri corrects, but she’s laughing and jumping with him as she says it.

His grin is so big it almost breaks his face and he pulls her into a hug. “Thank you, Mom. I’ll make you proud of me, I swear.”

She puts her hand on his cheek, her smile soft. “You do every day, honey. Every day.”




“This isn’t fucking fair,” Jensen growls, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed in the cabin that’s going to be his home for the summer.

“Better than rehab,” Jeff retorts, leaning against the doorframe. His expression is way too fucking amused for Jensen’s liking.

“I didn’t need to go to rehab,” Jensen grits out, flopping down on the bed and bawling his fists to keep from hitting something.

Jeff sobers up and comes over. As mad as Jensen is, he knows it’s not Jeff’s fault. He’s a good guy, his uncle on his mother’s side of the family, and, as a one-time rock star himself, knows the pressures of fame. He stopped performing the decade before and opened up Camp Sing-a-Long, a place designed to help teens learn all about music from writing to producing and everything in between.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Jen?” Jeff asks straight out, sitting down at the end of the bed.

Jensen pulls his lower lip into his mouth and rolls it, a nervous habit when he’s stressed. His old manager always told him to do it more, keep those lips nice and puffy. Sick fuck. Glover, his current manager, might be an asshole but at least he’s not a pedo.

“They didn’t catch me with drugs,” Jensen mumbles, sitting up and tucking his legs against his chest in a protective gesture.

Jeff’s eyebrows shoot up. “No? Then what did they catch you with that Glover sent you here for the summer to hide out and pretend you were in rehab?”

Jensen blushes straight to the tips of his expensive blond highlights. “It was a groupie, I guess you would call it. Backstage after the last LA show.”

Jeff chuckles, looking relieved. “Is that all? Boy, when I was at my prime, I had someone working for me just to keep the girls out of my dressing room.”

Jensen looks down at his hands, his knuckles turning white where they were holding onto to his knees. “It wasn’t a girl groupie.”

Jeff pauses and the silence lasts just long enough for Jensen to want to jump up and run out of this room, and the camp, and the fucking state. But then, Jeff places one hand over Jensen’s on his knee and squeezes it just enough to be reassuring.

“Ol’ Glover didn’t like that, did he?” Jeff asks, but it’s not really a question.

Jensen shakes his head miserably. “No, sir.”

Jensen gets it, he does. He’s been in the business long enough to know that there are rules to these things. The Kryptonic 3 is the biggest boy band in the world and each of its members have his role to play. Tom is the serious one; Mike is the old one; and Jensen? Jensen’s the pretty boy front man who dates Demi Lovato and doesn’t mind wearing white pants to the Grammys. All the little girls that dream about taking him to prom probably wouldn’t like knowing that he’s really blowing Joe Jonas in the bathroom during commercial breaks.

“Well, fuck Glover,” Jeff announces, hopping up. “Whatever the back story, I’m happy you’re here, and I bet the kids coming for camp are going to be, too, once they see who the surprise guest is.”

Jensen groans, and pulls the pillow over his face, muffling his voice. “You’re just using me for my fame and ridiculous good looks.”

Jeff barks a laugh. “And don’t you forget it, kid.”







“That’s my bed,” a voice comes from behind and Jared jumps at the sound. He flushes and pulls his bag off the bed he just set it on, moving it to the one across the room and closer to the window.

“Oh, sorry, dude. I promise I don’t bite,” the skinny guy with spiky blond hair sticking up in every direction grins at him. “I’m Chad, your new roomie, it seems.”

Jared takes a deep breath and tries to steady his nerves. He’s a social guy, he can do this. “Hey, no worries, man. I’m Jared.”

Chad ignores his outstretched hand and goes for some elaborate type of fist-bump instead. Jared tries to copy it and ends up more confused than before. Chad steps back and Jared feels like he’s being sized up.

“So Jaybird-can I call you Jaybird? Yeah of course I can-what brings you to Camp Dangle-My-Dong? You can’t be a dancer because your limbs don’t seem to work. Your hair doesn’t have enough gel in it to be one of these douchebag pop singer types.” Chad squints at him. Hard. “Lemme guess-sensitive song writer?”

Jared flushes again but then has to laugh. Chad’s a bit much, but Jared’s dealt with Milo his whole life and those two are probably long lost twins in asshattery. “My limbs work perfectly well, thank you very much, but you are correct in assuming that I’m a songwriter. Don’t know how sensitive I am, but I guess that’s up for interpretation.”

Chad grins and literally reaches around to pat himself on the back. “Sometimes it hurts to be this smart, let me tell you.”

Jared snorts. “I bet it does.”

“C’mon, Jaybird,” Chad says, grabbing Jared by the sleeve of his shirt and dragging him towards the door. “Let me introduce you to the crew.”

Jared gulps and goes with it. He can’t spend the whole summer locked in his cabin writing unrequited love songs about dumb football players who like to smile all pretty and oblivious at their poor gay dork friends as they pet their adorable cheerleader girlfriends.

Jared sighs. No wonder he can’t finish that song.




“Welcome everyone to Camp-Sing-A-Long!” a lady about Jared’s mother’s age yells excitedly from a makeshift stage in the large cabin Chad has pulled him into. The room is full of teenagers, everyone chatting and laughing with each other. The air is buzzing and Jared is almost overwhelmed by it.

The woman continues. “I’m Kim and I’ll be your Den Mama this summer. Camp Sing-a-Long is about having a good time and making good music and even better memories, and Jeff and I are here to make that happen.”

A huge cheer goes up in the room and Jared can’t help grinning. He claps his hands and Chad pushes him with an affectionate “nerd.”

“Without further ado, I’d like to introduce Miss Cindy Sampson and Mister Christian Kane to the stage to warm us up. C’mon up kids, and no frisky business this time,” Kim admonishes them with a wink, as a short stocky kid with a smirk pulls a tall brunette with a killer tan up on to the stage. Music pipes up from seemingly nowhere and the two of them start an apparently well-practiced duet.

“This is amazing,” Jared laughs gleefully, letting Chad pull him over to table in the corner, where a few more kids are sitting.

“Yo, this is Jaybird,” Chad introduces him charmingly. “Jaybird, this is Aldis and Gen.” He turns back to Jared, and then motions towards the duet partners currently singing. “C-Squared are onstage like usual. Just ignore them when they starting singing shit at each other and making out.”

The petite girl with long messy brown hair knotted on top of her head-who must be Gen-at the table motions for Jared to sit down. “I’m assuming that your given name is not Jaybird, but knowing Chad, I wouldn’t leave it past him to have weirdo friends.”

“Hey, you’re my friend. What does that say about you?” Chad interjects, leering at her.

“It says that you still haven’t learned that ‘not even if you were the last man on earth and my hands fell off, Chad’ actually means exactly what the words are saying,” Gen deadpans, and Jared and the guy next to her that must be Aldis crack up.

“I’m Jared, actually. Jared Padalecki,” he holds up a hand at their facial expressions and laughs. “I know, don’t even bother trying to spell it.”

There’s suddenly a commotion at the entrance, and a good-looking kid with big blue eyes and skinny jeans walks into the room, followed closely by two chicks that are hot enough that even a completely homosexual guy like Jared can appreciate them.

“Who is that?” Jared wonders, watching the boy waltz blithely across the room like he owns the deed to the land. Jared admits that he’s in awe of the confidence oozing off of him in waves. Jared only wishes he was that sure of himself.

Gen makes a face like she smells something bad. “That’s Misha Collins. Don’t even bother unless your parents own a small country or something. I’ve known the guy three years and he’ll barely talk to me because my dad is a plumber.”

Aldis interrupts then. “His parents are Casper and Cora Collins. You know, The Collins Connection?”

Jared’s eyes go wide. The Collins Connection is a legendary duo from the 70s and used to be bigger than the Carpenters in their time. They’ve won something ridiculous like twelve Grammys. “Wow, that’s so cool! My mom loves them.”

“And the hot chicks are Danneel and Sandy, or the Collins Cuties, as he likes to call them. Only seventeen year old you’ll ever meet with his own backup singers,” Aldis adds, laughing as Gen scowls.

“His minions, more like it,” she grumbles.

“Ah, c’mon, Gen. Danni’s nice. It’s not her fault that her dad owns half of the oil rigs on the Gulf Coast and is stinking rich enough for Misha to claim her as one of his own,” Aldis smirks.

“And Sandy’s as dumb as a lamp post, so it’s not her fault,” Chad adds, winking at Gen.

Before she can respond, Misha Collins and his Cuties are descending on their table.

“Watch out, you’re fresh meat,” Aldis mumbles in Jared’s ear. Jared swallows hard as Misha sets those big blues right on him like a laser beam.

“Hi, Misha,” Gen says as loud and obnoxiously as she can muster, but Misha ignores her and keeps staring at Jared.

“I’m Misha Collins. You are?” he says nonchalantly, hand on hip.

Jared coughs nervously. He feels like he’s twelve again and just noticed that Zach Levi looked really hot in a tank top while washing his dad’s car-completely discombobulated. “Um, hi? I’m Jared Padalecki. Nice to meet you.”

“And what does your father do?”

Gen makes an obscene noise next to him.

“He owns his own store?” Jared says hopefully, thinking ownership might win him a few points.

Misha flicks his eyes at Jared and turns around to leave as quickly as he came.

“But my mom-“ Jared shouts out. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he’s new and uncomfortable and all he wants to do is prove himself to these strangers.

Misha turns on his heels, one eyebrow cocking. “Yes?”

Jared blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. “My mother is the Prime Minister of Poland.”

Oh god, now that is stupid.

“Is that like the Queen?” the tiny Cutie next to Misha pipes up, her round little mouth in an “o”.

“No, San, not like the Queen,” the other Cutie, a tall redhead, corrects her gently, patting her shoulder.

The tiny one-Sandy- looks dejected.

Jared feels Gen staring a hole into the side of his head and peers over to look at her. Her face is completely stoic and gives nothing away, but he can feel her thinking.

Misha’s lips curl into a smirk. “Very nice to meet you, Jared. See you around sometime, yes?”

With a snap of his fingers, Misha and his Cuties saunter back out of the cabin back to wherever they slinked in from.

“Be careful, Jared,” Gen says to him, bringing Jared’s attention back to her. “You seem like a nice guy and Misha will eat you for breakfast.”

Jared opens his mouth to reply, to apologize somehow, but then Cindy and Christian are storming back to the table and the moment is lost.




Goddamit, pull yourself together, Jared thinks frantically. He’s staring at Jeff Morgan a few days later in the big group singing class that everyone attends in smaller pockets. You can do this.

“Are you alright, Jared? Cat got your tongue?” Jeff teases him good-naturedly, but Jared blushes and pushes his bangs off his suddenly sweaty forehead.

“Sorry, Jeff,” Jared mumbles. He got up to sing one of his own songs in front of everyone, but the minute he stared out at all the expectant faces, he just couldn’t do it. He’s just not brave enough.

Jeff looks at him, and his face softens with understanding. “Would you feel more comfortable singing someone else’s song? Maybe you just need to tune yours up a bit before the big competition.”

Jared smiles at him gratefully. He can do this, he’s just not ready to put his whole soul on the line just yet.

“Sing something by Kryp 3!” Sandy yells out, clapping her hands happily. “Jensen’s soooo cute.”

Jeff rolls his eyes and twirls himself around. “That’s my nephew you’re talking about, of course he’s cute. Where do you think he got it from?”

The class laughs, and Jared relaxes immediately. Without thinking of how cheesy the music is, he launches into one of The Kryptonic 3’s bigger hits, knowing Sophia and her keyboard would be proud.

Afterwards, Misha and the Cuties come over to him. Misha looks at him appraisingly and, even though Jared knows it shouldn’t matter, it’s nice to get approval.

“You’re not bad, Jared,” Misha pronounces, looking him up and down and gifting him with a twisty little smile. “I’ve been meaning to add a little more testosterone to my group. Danni can’t be expected to provide it all by herself.”

Jared holds back a laugh as Danneel rolls her eyes behind Misha’s back.

“But Danni’s a girl!” Sandy says, confused, and Danneel pats her cheek.

Misha ignores her and continues. “So maybe if you play your cards right, I’ll let you join us for the Final Jamboree. Your mother will be there, I assume?”

Jared stumbles, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Um…erm. I mean, yeah? Sure?”

“Fantastic,” Misha purrs and struts off before Jared can even comprehend what just happened, the girls following close behind.

“Yeah, fantastic,” Jared mutters, gathering up his things. He wanders around the ground a bit, looking for a place to clear his mind. This whole experience has been overwhelming so far, and with Chad as his roommate, he hasn’t had any private space to sit and write. Not that any of the words are coming to him. His muse is completely gone, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever finish the one great song he’s been trying to write for ages.

He finds a private cabin off the way a bit, with a piano. He figures it’s a rehearsal space, and after peeking around a bit, Jared settles in to try and write.

An hour later, he’s still staring frustrated down at his journal, pen in his mouth as he chews on his nervously. He’s concentrating so hard that the gruff voice startles him nearly off his chair.

“Don’t look like you’re getting much done there, kid,” an older man wearing a raggedy baseball cap and a beard looks at him with amusement. He’s standing over Jared with arms crossed over his chest, and Jared jumps up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was using the space,” Jared blurts out, clutching his journal protectively against his sternum.

The man chuckles, and takes off the hat to wipe the sweat off his brow before putting it back on again. “Settle down, kid, you’re gonna have a stroke. I’m Jim and I play accompanist for all you starry eyed children at this here establishment. Why don’t you come on over and I’ll tinkle these ivories for bit.”

Jared slowly follows him over to the piano and when Jim taps the bench next to him, Jared sits down. His tension must show because Jim just scoffs and says, “I’m not gonna bite you, fool. My dentures wouldn’t hold anyway.”

Jared can’t help but laugh at that and Jim winks at him before starting to play. Jared’s silent for a while, closing his eyes and listening to the music.

After a while, Jim finally speaks again. “You got something in there you want to try out?”

Jared swallows, looks down at the journal he’s still clutching against his lap. “There’s a song I’ve been trying to finish. Words just aren’t coming, you know?”

“I know how that is,” Jim nods, keeps playing. “Why don’t you sing what you’ve got and work from there? Sometimes you just have to put it out there in the world and see what comes back.”

Jared cracks open his journal, takes a deep breath, and sings.




Jensen just narrowly avoids running into a girl wearing a Kryp 3 t-shirt, and once again curses Glover and Jeff and his own stupid boy-loving dick that he’s stuck out here in the heat sweating like a hog instead of in his nice air-conditioned house watching his home movie screen.

He hears it before he even realizes it, the melodic sound of a sweet male voice entering his ears. Jensen isn’t quite sure where it’s coming from; he guesses from the smallish cabin tucked off into the corner of the camp. He moves closer, and tries to see in, but fails. There is a tree in front of the window, and all he can make out is an old guy wearing a baseball cap. That is definitely not his voice, but Jensen can’t see who else is with the man.

Jensen doesn’t know whether it’s the sound of the voice, both trembling and soaring all at once, or the words of the song that are captivating him. Jensen has wanted to write something like this himself, songs about being true to yourself and not just the expectations that people place on you. Glover won’t even let them play their own instruments though, much less write their own songs.

Jensen sits down outside the window, leans up against the tree, and listens. He never realized that such a hopeful song could make him this sad.




“It’s not right, and you know it,” Jensen says angrily into the phone, storming down the camp pathway that leads to the dock by the lake.

“I know that, Jen, we both do,” Tom replies, his voice doing that weird cooing thing that he usually uses to placate Mike when he’s about to attempt a balcony-to-pool swan-dive.

“I can’t help it, Tommy. I tried to be different, you know I tried.”

“I know, Jen. The Miley thing was a valid experiment.”

Jensen has to laugh at that one. “Her dad did get along with Mike pretty well, right?”

“Well of course, they’re practically the same age.”

Jensen laughs harder as he hears “Hey, I heard that!” being yelled out from the background of the call.

“Hey, you can’t all be saving yourself for marriage like me,” Tom says primly.

Jensen snorts.

“…or a eunuch like Mike.”

Jensen cackles as a fight breaks out on the other side of the phone.

“Gimme that, you fucker,” a muffled voice huffs and finally Mike comes over the phone.

“I don’t care if you’re gay, Jenny Doll, my princess, my unicorn bride--”

“Hanging up now, Rosey.”

“--my rainbow-chasing love muffin---“

“Phone disconnecting.”

Jensen sighs, putting his phone back in his pocket. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees what looks like six and half foot of lanky teenager dancing around the dock in a way that most resembles a chicken being electrocuted. Bangs flop in the kid’s face as he lips synchs to whatever is currently on the iPod that is hanging out of his ears.

The kid suddenly spins around and sees Jensen and the expression on his face makes Jensen burst into laughter. Deer in the headlights doesn’t begin to cover it.

The kid’s fucking adorable. Jensen stops laughing and swallows roughly.

The teenager rips the earbuds out and flushes in every bit of skin that Jensen can see. And, goddamn, there’s a lot of it.

“I didn’t know whether you were dancing or having a seizure,” Jensen smirks, crossing his arms and cocking his eyebrow.

The kid pouts and Jensen has to resist going over and biting him. “My limbs work perfectly well, thank you.”

“I bet they do,” Jensen smiles and the teen flushes again. “I’m Jensen.”

“Yeah, I know.” The kid rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling a bit now, even if he’s looking up shyly from underneath his bangs. “I’m Jared.”

“Nice to meet you, Jared.”

Jared pushes his bangs to the side and stuffs his earbuds into his pocket. “So I take it you’re not in rehab.”

Damn, the boy doesn’t beat around the bush, Jensen thinks.

“Gotta keep up my bad boy image, you know the deal,” Jensen replies stiffly. Jared must pick up on it because his shoulders loosen and he steps forward.

“I mean, it’s none of my business,” Jared offers and Jensen looks away, strangely ashamed for some reason.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve been trying to avoid everyone but I guess that’s futile when I’m my Uncle Jeff’s special guest star,” Jensen says wryly, making a face that gets Jared to laugh. Jensen likes the sound and wonders why he wants to do it all over again.

“Now why would you want to avoid a bunch of teenagers who probably have your poster on their wall? I mean, you must loved getting groped and fondled by fourteen-year-old girls,” Jared teases and Jensen guffaws.

“You don’t know the half of it, man.”

“Maybe one day you can tell me.”

Jensen stops and looks at Jared, whose eyes are bright but shoulders hunched just a little bit with nervous tension.

Jensen smiles. “Who knows, Jared? Maybe one day I will.”

Jared smiles back and suddenly it’s just about the best day Jensen can remember having in a long time.




“I met Jensen Ackles,” Jared gasps, running into the kitchen where his mother is stirring a huge pot of chili.

“Isn’t he in rehab?” Sherri asks absently, reaching for some more salt.

“I guess not because he’s here at the camp and he caught me dancing around like a dork and he laughed at me, but not really in a bad way or anything and oh my god, Mom, I know that he is a total cliché, but he’s so beautiful in real life that I almost fell into the lake.”

Sherri looks up at that one and smirks. “Beautiful boys messing up your equilibrium, huh? Imagine that.”

Jared scoffs at her and spins around the kitchen. “Shut up, Mom! It doesn’t mean anything. He’s still, well, him, but even you would have appreciated his face.”

Sherri laughs. “His face, you say?’

Jared swoons a bit. Maybe. Sorta. “And he was wearing a purple belt.”

“Look at that, your favorite color.”

“Purple is the color of royalty,” Jared says smugly and then halts, remembering the lie he told Misha and everyone about his mom. He looks up at her open, smiling face and feels like the world’s biggest asshole. He has got to get out of here just to breathe again.

“Everything okay, honey?” she calls out after him.

“Fine, mom. Just have dance class,” he calls back, rushing off before she can ask any more questions.

Twenty minutes later, Jared is standing in the middle of the camp dance studio with Jensen Fucking Ackles a few yards in front of him.

Oh, isn’t this just typical.

Jensen’s eyes widen when he spots Jared and then he winks at him.

Jensen Fucking Ackles winks at him.

What is my life? Jared flails internally.

“My name is Jensen Ackles. You might know me best as the lead singer of The Kryptonic 3, but I assure you that pretty much everything you know about me is either a lie or a delusion from Mike Rosenbaum’s head.”

The entire class laughs and Jensen grins. Jared bites his tongue to keep himself still.

“I’ll be your guest teacher this summer, although I’m probably only a few years older than most of you so I won’t make you call me Mr. Ackles.” He pauses, licks his lips, and grins wickedly. “Unless you want to, of course.”

If Milo was here, this would be the point when he would be yelling “hot teen monkey sex” at Jared. Fortunately, they still have Chad for inappropriateness.

“Can I call you guys the Kryps?” Chad yells out.

“Chad, we already had this discussion,” Aldis side-eyes him as Jensen laughs.

Jensen claps his hands together. “Ok, let’s dance, shall we?”

A hoot goes up as people get into position and Christian starts up the boom box. Jensen wanders over to Jared and leans over enough that his breath is tickling Jared’s neck.

“Try not to fall over this time,” Jensen whispers, smirking at a frozen Jared as he saunters away.

Jared doesn’t realize he’s supposed to be moving until he somehow manages to knock Misha Collins on his ass with his bulk alone.

“Maybe you should refrain from making other people fall over as well,” Jensen deadpans, biting his lip in an obvious attempt not to laugh.

Jared doesn’t know whether to die from embarrassment or the snarl Misha is sending his way. He scurries over to try to hide behind Gen, who only covers up to his mid-chest, and tries not to get caught staring at Jensen’s ass when he starts break-dancing with Chris and Aldis.




A week later finds them attempting to learn about making a music video, which Jared figures is about a seven on the possible disaster scale. Probably an eight if you consider Misha and Chad are both supposed to be in it.

“First I need an assistant director,” Jensen announces, and Gen jumps up and practically spider monkey’s him as he laughs. “Alrighty then, Gen it is.”

“Hey, no fair! How come you get to direct?” Aldis pouts, crossing his arms as Gen sticks her tongue out at him from behind Jensen’s back.

“I’m a producer, douche. Strictly behind the camera for me,” Gen insists, looking up beatifically at Jensen before winking at Jared.

“Well, then,” Jensen nods, handing the hand-held digital camera to her. “How about you play camerawoman while I try to make the puppet children dance for me?”

“Hey, watch your mouth, Ackles. We are the talent of the future. You should be terrified,” Chris grins.

“Don’t talk back to your elders, Kane. I’ll hit you with my cane,” Jensen mock-growls and Jared can’t help the grin that overwhelms his face. He will not swoon. He will not.

“I love the song you picked, Jensen,” Misha pipes up then, his slight eye roll before he says it giving away how over he is of the way the conversation has been going so far.

“Thanks, Misha. It’s one of our first big singles, so it has a special place in my heart,” Jensen smiles at him, and Jared feels just the tiniest bit of jealousy at it being aimed at someone besides himself.

Aldis holds up the paint ball gun that Jensen had given him as a prop when they arrived. “Don’t you think using actual paintballs in a video for a song called ‘Paint Me In Your Love’ is a bit obvious?”

“Dude,” Chad interrupts with his ‘duh’ face on. “The song is about jizzing on chicks. Blowing paint all over Danni and Sandy is the closest we’re gonna get to recreating that magic.”

Danneel starts making a retching sound and Sandy just looks confused. “What’s jizz? Is that like jazz? I love jazz!” she says, smiling brightly.

“Murray, keep your curdled ejaculate away from my back-up singers, for the love of God. They’re wearing Prada,” Misha scoffs, patting Sandy lightly on the shoulder.

“There are no back-up singers in this video, Misha. Everyone is important in the band,” Jensen admonishes gently and Jared can see Misha biting back a retort.

“C’mon people, time is money,” Gen barks and she smiles slyly when Jensen lets out a startled laugh and winks at her.

“You heard the lady, let’s make a music video.”

A half hour later and Jared decides maybe a nine on the disaster scale would be a little more accurate.

“This blazer is Marc Jacobs, you don’t put plastic tarp over Marc Jacobs,” Misha cries out.

Jensen holds out the gear he brought as protection from the paintballs. “Would you rather Aldis get purple paint all over your Marc Jacobs?”

“Why can’t he shoot Danneel instead? Or I can use Sandy as a shield!” Misha suggests, snapping his fingers wildly at Sandy, who runs over and starts jumping up and down in front of him. She starts to do a handstand and then falls forward with a tiny huff.

“My butt hurts,” Sandy pouts, from her spot on the ground.

“I’ll rub it-“

“Chad shut up,” Jared replies, pulling Sandy back up to her feet. She beams at him and Jared can’t help wondering why she lets Misha treat her like a his very own Harajuku girl.

Jensen sighs. “Fine, Misha, stand to the side and we’ll have you and the girls sing the chorus over by that tree.”

Misha literally bats his eyelashes at Jensen and Jared just holds back a snort. “Thank you, Jensen. I promise it’ll be the most stylish part of the entire video.”

Sandy reaches up to kiss Jared on the cheek before running over to take her place next to Misha and Danneel. Jared blushes a bit, especially when he sees Jensen’s slight smile at the sight. Jared shrugs it off and goes back towards Chris, taking the place he was in before.

“Okay, Chris, really get in there and grab Jared. You’re supposed to keep him there so Aldis can get him with the paint,” Jensen directs, motioning for Chris to get up there behind Jared.

Chris grabs Jared around the waist, but he’s so much shorter than Jared that he can barely be seen over Jared’s shoulder. Aldis notices this and starts laughing hysterically.

“This is like reverse midget tossing,” Aldis cracks up, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I’m gonna break your face, Hodge,” Chris growls and Jared can feel it vibrating against his back.

“Aww, Kane, you gonna get on Jared’s shoulders to try?” Aldis starts making kissing noises at him and Chris drops Jared and takes off running to tackle Aldis.

“This is the worst music video ever,” Gen says, lowering the camera as Aldis and Chris start wrestling on the grass two feet in front of her.

“Nah, you should have seen our first video. Rosey was wearing a mesh shirt. Nightmares,” Jensen shudders as Gen giggles.

The fight lasts a few more minutes until Misha yells out “Boring!” from his place on the tree stump.

“Misha’s right,” Gen says, before realizing what she just said. “Wow, never thought that sentence would come out my mouth.”

“C’mon, Chris. I’ll show you what I wanted,” Jensen says easily, walking over to Jared and moving behind him. Jared’s breath quickens involuntarily as Jensen slides his arms around his waist, bracing lightly on his hips.

“See, you just have to get in here like this,” Jensen keeps going, his chest just barely flush against Jared’s back. He tips his chin right up over Jared’s shoulder, and Jared can feel his breath hot against the back of his neck.

Jared’s about two second away from popping a boner in front of all his campmates-on video-when Cindy saves him.

“I think I’m going to get jealous if Chris does that to Jared,” Cindy says, cocking her eyebrow.

Jensen pulls away suddenly and Jared’s not sure which of their faces is redder. Jensen rubs the back of his neck with his hand and looks down shyly.

“Is it time for our shot yet? I’m sweating like a peasant out here,” Misha demands, marching up to them.

Jared’s thankful for the distraction from the possibly awkward moment, but can’t get the feel of Jensen pressed up against him out of his mind for the rest of the afternoon.




Jensen’s sitting outside the window of the old cabin where he first heard that voice singing. He’s managed to catch the boy rehearsing the song three times now, but has never ventured further than a quick peek inside. He’s only ever managed to see the back of old Beaver’s head and part of Jensen thinks that the mystery of it all is part of the attraction.

It's impossible to be anyone but me
Though I couldn't see past my own insecurity

The song is the same, but the words are new, and the voice is unsteady as they sing them. Jensen closes his eyes and lets the lovely timbre rush over him.

But you kept me moving on
So now, now...
I'll sing my song

The music stops and Jensen holds his breath. He hears the ruffling of paper and Beaver’s gruff voice giving words of encouragement. Jensen strains, wanting to hear how the voice sounds speaking, how the laughter sounds in that silvery tone. Nothing comes though, and Jensen wonders how he’s become so lonely that he’s chasing a phantom.

He thinks of Jared then, sweet, dorky, adorable Jared. Always jotting down things in that notebook of his, a flush on his cheeks when Jensen reaches for it, even in jest. Tripping over his own feet, but jumping right back up with a full-force dimpled grin that’s the prettiest thing Jensen’s ever seen.

And that’s the problem right there. It’s been three weeks since he was sent to the camp to hide out from his indiscretions, as Glover would call them, and already he’s managed to start having, well, feelings for a seventeen-year-old boy.

Jensen sighs and stands up. It’s just for the summer, right? What’s the harm in having a little fun?

He only hesitates for a moment before heading off in search of Jared.

PART TWO