FIC: Just Forget the Words
Down to the freaking wire.
Title: Just Forget the Words
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,970
Pairing/Characters: Jared/Jensen, various CW folks you should know and love by now
Summary: Written for j2_everafter. Based on A Bug's Life. Jensen's always dreamed of hitting it big but never quite had the means. So what happens when he meets Jared, who's set on making those dreams come true?
Warning: Alternating POVs.
Beta: The great and powerful juice817, who puts up with me sending her panicked emails at the last second. Any other errors are mine and mine alone. You can't have them!
Jensen's always had a thing for music. If his mother is to be believed, he hummed along to his lullabies as an infant and wouldn't lie down for his nap until MTV's Top 20 Video Countdown was done. He always blushes when she tells those stories.
He does remember building his own guitar when he was eight years old, using an old shoebox, a broom handle and the tied-together shoelaces from his father's cross-trainers. It made a dull thunk noise when he plucked the string, but his parents got the hint. That Christmas, he received a kid-sized acoustic and beginner's lessons from Santa, and he barely put that guitar down until he was old enough to use his summer job savings to buy a second-hand Fender.
In high school, his friends thought it would be so cool to start a band. Since Jensen already knew how to play, they though they had a one-up on the other dreamers in their schools. It would have helped if any of them had any musical talent themselves. Misha couldn't make his fingers bend the right way for bass, Mike looked like a spaz behind his rented drum kit, and Danneel's singing voice sounded similar to a cat trapped inside of bagpipes.
They gave up on the original band idea quickly once they all agreed they sounded horrible.
It was more entertaining, anyway, to toss on a CD from a female-fronted band and sync along with it. Mike could be as exuberant as he wanted, Misha didn't have to hit all of the strings in order to look good, and Jensen could stop wearing earplugs whenever they "practiced."
And the day Jensen's father came downstairs and told them to “quit clowning around” and get back to doing their homework, well, that was the day The Circus Bugs, the area's first and probably only lip-sync band, was officially born.
Seven years and a college education later, they're still booking a few gigs as opener at local venues. They put on a good show, playing it up for all of the guests and getting the audience involved. They even have their own groupies, if you can count the two guys who sit at every show, requesting Freebird.
And sometimes, Jensen will sit in his apartment, plucking his six-string for real and dreaming about taking his own show in the road.
*****
With an English teacher for a mother, words have been a huge part of Jared's life. Chad still hasn't forgiven him for the Scrabble game in third grade when Jared played first "quixotic" and then "squeezes," taking the triple word score, triple letter, and double seven-tile Bingos like it was nothing.
He knew from a young age that he wanted to be a writer, but he didn't dream about the Great American Novel. In fact, his professors blinked twice at him when he confessed a love for poetry. More specifically, for lyrics.
Of course, no one seemed to know how to get into professional lyric writing, which is how he ended up with a degree in creative writing and a starting position as the personal assistant to Jim Beaver, Chairman and A&R of indie label Big Dam Records.
The same Jim Beaver who is sounding more and more tense the longer he stays on the phone with the drummer from Idgits. David had called ten minutes ago in a bit of a panic, and Jared had patched him straight through to Jim’s office. He’s regretting it now as he listens to Jim’s side of the conversation.
“Is this the kind of laryngitis that comes from getting sick or the kind that comes from getting stupidly drunk and screaming at the top of his lungs three days before our major invitational?” There’s a short pause before Jim adds, “Well, you all certainly named your band properly.” Another pause, then, “No, I don’t think you get how upset I am. We’ve been planning this Battle of the Bands for nearly a year now, small-label groups from all over the state are coming, and now the lead singer for my lead band is out of commission for at least a week.”
Jim slams the receiver down, and Jared gets the chance to take a deep breath and grab his clipboard before he’s called into the boss’ office.
“Scratch Idgits from the performance roster,” Jim tells him as he scrubs over his face with one hand. “Do we have anyone available to fill their slot?”
Jared flips through his papers, looking for a free name. “Not unless you want to change your mind about whether Seven Deadlies is performance-ready.”
“I’m not letting Seven up on that stage. That boy still hasn’t figured out the benefits of shampoo.”
“Thought not. We’ve got four already locked in. Lucy’s Plan is playing Arizona next week; Plight of Abel in Detroit. Cerberus Leash is vacationing in Ireland since they didn’t plan on being invited, and Viv from Three Inch Roots is still throwing a hissy fit about us not giving her a wardrobe allowance. And then there are the three groups that politely declined the invitation in the first place.”
Jim gives a sigh, then turns to his computer to start taking his frustration out on an innocent keyboard. “Find someone, Jared. Hell, hit the streets if you have to. But we’re not hosting this damn thing one group shy, got it?”
*****
Jensen tips back his beer, smiling around the bottle as the others at his table hoot and holler at a gig well done. They had been so on tonight with their Garbage routine that someone had actually come up after their set and asked Danneel how she sounded so much like Shirley Manson. They couldn’t have received a bigger compliment.
They even got to perform a little longer than normal, seeing as the headliners had to cancel last second. Something about the lead singer doing something incredibly stupid. To be fair, Jensen doesn't really care why they couldn't show, considering last time his group opened for them, their guitarist kept hitting on Danneel and their drummer threw an empty beer bottle at Mike's kit. They can stay gone.
The venue owner has been handing out drinks on the house as thanks for covering. Mike’s plastered, Misha’s looking like he’s not far behind, and Danneel is gulping down her cosmos instead of delicately sipping them like she was earlier. It really was a good night.
A little sloppily, Misha rises to his feet and lifts his drink, sloshing a bit over the rim and onto his hand. “A toast!” he slurs, and the rest of them raise their drinks in response. “To the best group ever. I’m sure we’ll be the first lip-sync band to earn a record deal.”
“To future groupies who want in our pants just because we’re famous! Female and male,” Mike adds with a leer in Danneel and Jensen’s direction.
Danneel’s smiling along. “To sold out venues!”
“And to platinum records,” Jensen clinks his beer bottle into everyone else’s drinks and chugs the rest down.
That’s when he notices the tall guy holding one of their ridiculous lime-green fliers and talking with the venue manager. The manager points at their table, and now this stranger is walking toward them. “Excuse me,” he says when he reaches their table. “I’m looking for The Circus Bugs.”
“That would be us,” Misha answers, and this guy smiles. It lights something up inside of Jensen because this guy has dimples and maybe Jensen has always been attracted to guys with huge, genuine smiles. And longer hair. And muscled figures that Jensen can trace even through layers of clothing.
“My name is Jared Padalecki. I represent Big Dam Records.” He starts passing out cards to all of them. Misha falls back into his seat and Mike starts coughing into his drink. Jensen tries to sit up straighter in his chair because he cannot believe the words that just came out of this dream guy’s mouth.
“We’re hosting the Indie Invitation this weekend. One of our bands had to drop out, and I was wondering if you all would like to perform.”
Danneel is practically shaking in her chair, keeping her lips pulled tight against the happy squeal Jensen knows she’s dying to let loose. The others are gaping in awe. So Jensen takes it upon himself to speak up.
“Where do we sign?”
*****
“Where did you find these guys?” Jim asks him when Jared tells him the good news in the morning.
“One of their fliers was posted downtown. I didn’t get there in time to hear them, but I asked the event rep, and he said they’re consistently great performers. Put on a show that everyone loves. Couldn’t say enough good things about them.” Jared debated leaving the next part out because he knows the ribbing he’s going to take for it, but in the end it’s all about selling the talent. “Plus, the group’s got the sex appeal working for them too. Gorgeous female lead, and don’t even get me started about their guitarist.”
“I won’t,” Jim says, and Jared can feel his blush starting. “Alright, get ‘em signed up and on the roster. I’m heading to the convention center to get things ready for sound checks.”
*****
In the light of day, Jensen takes another look at Jared and wonders where this beautiful, wonderful man came from, because he is now offering them the largest gig they’ve ever landed. Jensen hasn’t read most of the contract they’re all signing, but from what he can tell, they’re getting complementary lodging, fourth billing on the announcements, and more money than they’ve earned the last three shows combined.
“So we don’t schedule next to someone incompatible,” Jared says as Jensen adds his signature to the contract, “what’s y’all’s type of music?”
“We tend to stick with rock-alternative,” Jensen explains. “Stuff like Garbage, the Cranberries, you know.”
“Got it. So, um, you guys need extra tickets to the show for girlfriends or…” Jared cuts himself off and Jensen realizes there’s a hint of color on the guy’s cheeks. He’s blushing, and Jensen can’t help but smile.
“Well, Mike might want some for all of the groupies he’s imagining, but nah. Misha’s girl is overseas saving yaks or something, the men Danneel dates usually don’t last, and my boyfriend ditched me last month.” He keeps a close eye on Jared when he says that last part and doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows jump and something sparks in his eyes.
“Really?” Jared asks. At Jensen’s nod, he adds in a lower tone. “His loss.”
“Someone else’s possible gain,” he replies with a smirk. And yeah, he’s obviously flirting with - his manager? - Jared, but goddamn it, a hot guy is practically handing him all of his dreams on a silver platter. And said hot guy is definitely picking up on his signals, if the sly looks now heading his way are any indication.
Jensen winks and steps back, passing the pen to Danneel, who gives him a knowing smirk before adding her own signature.
Finally, they’re all done and Jared pushes away from his desk with a huge grin. “Great! Let’s head over to the center. Jim’s getting set for sound checks and you guys can get a good glimpse at the venue.”
*****
There's a band on stage when Jared and The Circus Bugs get to the center. They sound okay, but Jared can already pick up a bit of static over the mics that needs to be addressed.
The rest of the visiting bands are sitting in the audience, watching the proceedings, and Jared waves to his boss before grabbing a group of empty seats close to the stage. Jensen and his friends are looking around, amazed, and Jared can't help but smile. It's always a bit of a boost when he helps a band's dreams come true.
Half of the groups are doing their checks today, and Jared can already tell who are going to be the frontrunners in the competition. He doesn't pay too close attention as the time ticks by, just jots notes every once in a while, questions for Jim and the like. Sometimes, he spends a moment listening to the bands converse around him, notices who's getting nervous and who's overconfident.
But mostly, Jared's a little distracted by Jensen. He'd noticed the cues Jensen had sent his way in the office, how could he miss them? But now Jensen's being cruel, sitting sprawled in the cushioned chair, his leg solidly pressed against Jared's from knee to ankle, and he keeps sending Jared these tiny smirks like he knows exactly what he's doing.
In other words, Jensen's making it a little difficult for Jared to do his job. Not that Jared's complaining.
Close to the end of checks, the doors to the main hall open again, and the members of Idgits slink in. Scoping out what they're missing, Jared figures, and he's too comfortable to go over there and kick them out again.
That is, until Steve, their guitarist, crawls into the open chair next to Jared and starts talking loudly over the playing band. "We want back in."
"How are you going to manage that," Jared asks, "with your singer out of commission?"
"Chris is getting better." Steve points toward the back of the auditorium, and Jared sees their lead massaging his throat like if he applies enough pressure he'll be able to undo the damage. "He'll be set to go."
"Sorry, Steve. We already replaced you for the show." Jared gestures to the group beside him. Jensen's looking proud and maybe a bit smug, Mike's sticking his tongue out at Steve, and even Danneel's giving a condescending little wave.
Steve looks confused for a moment, then he looks pissed. "I know you assholes. You play at The Dive. You," and he points at Danneel, "threw wine at me."
"With good reason," Jensen says.
"Yeah, in case they never told you in Cro-Magnon school, no means no," Misha adds.
"They're not even a real band!" Steve whines, looking a little pink in the ears.
Jared sighs. "They're performing, Steve."
"But -"
"They're performing," Jared cuts him off. "Jim's already signed off in it, so unless you want to make him even more pissed at you guys, back the hell off and go sit in the back already."
Steve huffs and shoots out of his chair. "Fine. Make fools of yourselves. We've been thinking about dropping your sorry asses as representation anyway." He gives them the finger and stomps away.
Jared leans in toward Jensen, close enough so that when he speaks, his lips just barely brush the other man's ear. "She really threw wine in his face?"
Jensen turns, smiling and so, so close. "Nope. In his crotch. He had to go on stage looking like he pissed himself."
*****
Sound checks end for the day, and they all grab a late dinner before heading to the hotel. They each have their own single room, and Danneel tells them all good night before heading her own way. Mike and Misha head to the bar, eager to celebrate the day.
And Jensen can't wait anymore. He follows Jared to the elevator.
"They put me up here too so I can help with any last second things the groups need," Jared explains as he opens the door to his room. It's no larger than the rest of theirs, but it's already messier, papers strewn everywhere in some sort of organized chaos.
The papers are scattered even more when Jensen topples Jared onto the sofa, his lips seeking Jared's and his hands plucking at clothes already. "Goddamn it," Jensen groans. "I've been wanting to do this all damn day."
Jared chuckles, instantly with the program as he starts yanking Jensen's shirt up and off. "You're been driving me crazy, you know that?"
"You've got no problems with fucking the talent?"
Jared grabs Jensen's ass, holding him in place as he grinds up to against Jensen's groin. "None whatsoever."
"Good," Jensen says, and that's the end of their intelligent conversation for the night.
*****
Jared wakes up to the sound of papers rustling, and a quick glace at the clock tells him it's nearly 3am. The bed beside him is empty but still warm. He shoves the covers aside, grabs a pair of boxers from his nearby suitcase and goes to investigate the noise.
Jensen's sitting on the couch, barely dressed with only one leg through his jeans, and reading Jared's song notebook. Jared starts forward to grab the spiral back, but stops when he gets a good look at Jensen's face in the pale light.
"See something you like?" he asks, and Jensen startles in his spot.
"Sorry. I'm way too curious for my own good. It's a character flaw." Jensen lifts the book a little bit. "Did you write these?"
Jared nods, making his way to the sofa without any regard for his own near nakedness. "It's a bit of a hobby." He takes the book from Jensen and pages through it. "That's a lie. It's what I really want to do. S'why I started working for Jim. I wanted some sort of in with the business."
"They're good," Jensen tells him, and Jared grunts his thanks. "No, really. You could probably do really well if you keep that up."
Jared closes the spiral, dropping it among the piles of papers on the floor. "You were heading out, I take it."
Jensen looks down, as if just realizing he's not even half dressed. He slides his other leg into his jeans and grabs his shirt from the floor. "Yeah. I just figured…big day tomorrow and all."
"Right."
"Yeah, right." There's that awkward silence Jared always hates, but fortunately it only lasts a moment before Jensen sees himself to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course," Jared says. "Big day."
*****
When they get to the center the next morning for sound checks, Jensen hands Jared a CD.
“That’s sweet,” Jared says, a little confused. “But aren’t we a little old for passing mixed tapes to one another?”
“You’re never too old for mix tapes,” Jensen says with a smile. “But actually, that’s the set from our last show. I figured we’d only get time for one or two songs, so I didn’t know which you’d think would be a better fit.”
“Oh! In that case, yeah, I can give it a listen. Which do you think is your best work?”
“Well, Danneel always has a great time with I Think I’m Paranoid, but personally, I think audiences like Bad Reputation the best.”
“Bad…” Jared starts, then looks closer at the cover to the CD in his hand. “#1 Crush, Don’t Speak… Jensen, every song on here is named after someone else’s music.” Something cold and solid settles in his stomach, and Jared feels sick in an instant. “Don’t tell me you’re a cover band.”
“No,” Jensen draws out, slowly. “We’re not a… Jared, come on, you knew.” Jensen’s going pale, his eyes wide, and Jared’s stomach is roiling. “You knew.”
“Knew what?”
*****
“I’m so fucking fired. Jim might even go so far as to kill me.”
Jensen had hustled Jared and the rest of his bandmates into a small, empty office far enough from the stage that no one would hear them before explaining the situation to Jared. It’s a good thing too, because Jared hasn’t calmed down yet.
“I really thought you knew, Jared. We thought you asked us here as an opening act, something to make people laugh, not to actually perform.” Jensen wants to go over and physically stop Jared from pacing, but judging by the look on Jared’s face right now, the action probably wouldn’t be accepted well.
“Excuse me for expecting you all to be a real fucking band!” Jared tears a familiar green sheet of paper from his clipboard and waves it in Jensen’s face. “Your flier said nothing about lip-syncing, damn it!”
Jensen pulls the paper from Jared’s grasp and reads. “Oh fuck. Mike!” And his drummer at least has the common sense to cower. “I told you to fix this before printing.”
“They were printed already,” Mike says, backing into a corner and then sinking to the floor. “Figured I’d spend the twenty bucks it would cost to re-print on beer for the group instead.”
“That’s just great.” Jared fists his hands in his hair as he begins pacing again. “The show is tomorrow, and every group is to perform their own original songs live. No pre-recording allowed! Can you guys even play?”
“Jensen can,” Danneel says. The devastated look on Jared’s face shows that she’s not really helping though.
“I can,” Misha adds, and they all look at him, mostly in surprise. “Not bass, obviously. But I was planning on challenging Mike to a drumstick duel soon.”
“You can take it,” Mike says miserably from his corner. “Put Danny on bass too.” No one misses her cringe at that. “Don’t even try, missy. I’ve seen you mimicking the fret movements on the mic stand to keep beat sometimes.”
“So that’s one guitarist, a wannabe drummer, and an inexperienced bassist.” Jared looks dangerously close to ripping out some chunks of hair. “And your original song?”
That shuts everyone up. They gave up trying to make their own music back in high school. Jensen doesn’t think any of them have written a note or lyric in their li-
“We’ve got that covered,” he says.
He can feel his bandmates staring at him, but he’s only looking at Jared, hoping he takes the hint.
Which he does. “Oh no. No. Stop thinking about it right now.”
“Come on, Jared. I saw them; you’re good. We’ll throw together some music and everything will be fine.”
“Fine? How’s it going to look when the hosting label of a Battle of the Bands introduces a thrown-together band with thrown-together music?”
“Better than if it’s found out that the hosting label hired a lip-sync band?” Mike says, and Danneel slaps him upside the head.
“We start working now, and we might have something usable by tomorrow morning,” Jensen assures Jared, and now he does reach out and lightly touches Jared’s arm. “What have we got to lose?”
*****
That night when Jared gets back to the hotel after finishing his final preparations, The Circus Bugs have already worked out the basics. Together, they all spend the next six hours and seven pots of coffee sequestered in Jared’s hotel room putting something together, and if Jared’s honest, it’s not just usable. It’s actually good.
“How the hell did you manage this?” Jared asks Jensen while the other man quietly plays a few notes and then changes the pencil marks on the sheet music in front of him.
“Honestly? It’s a tune I messed around with a bit when I was younger. When I read your notebook last night, it was like the words sang themselves into my song.” Jensen stops strumming and lets out a short laugh. “Man, I’m exhausted if I’m talking like that.”
“I think we’re all pretty wiped.” The others are starting to nod off where they’re sitting, and Jensen succumbs to a long yawn before answering.
“They’re gonna be useless tomorrow if we let them sleep on the floor.” Jensen shrugs off his guitar strap and moves to wake everyone, but Jared stops him by grabbing his wrist.
“You… Do you want to stay?” Jared asks. A small smile barely tilts Jensen’s lips, and Jared can see the “no” before it’s said. He lets go. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“I do,” Jensen says quickly, grabbing Jared’s hand back. “But I’m going to be uselessly unconscious the moment a mattress is under me.”
Jared sees something in the green eyes staring back at him, something that says maybe Jensen’s asking something of him, and he decides to take a chance. “I’m okay with that.”
Jensen’s smile becomes warmer, and he squeezes Jared’s hand before letting go. “Let me tuck the kids in first.” He rouses each of his groggy bandmates, and Jared watches as he leads them all out the door and to their own rooms.
Jared turns down the bed before Jensen gets back, and silently they both kick off their shoes and jeans. Jared pulls off his shirt, and in the time it takes him to yank it over his head, Jensen has landed facedown on the bed, out cold. It takes a moment for Jared to pull the sheets out from under Jensen’s feet and cover him.
Jared switches off the lights and slides into bed. Beside him, Jensen’s breathing deeply, and it lulls Jared into quickly following him to sleep.
*****
The convention center is a madhouse the next day. There are bands from all over the state, ready to prove that their label is the top in the indie business, and they’re all packed into every nook and cranny, turning instruments and warming up their vocals.
Jared was gone when Jensen woke up in the morning, with a note on his pillow saying not to freak, he just had to help Jim get everything set. He signed it with a smiley face next to his name, and Jensen couldn’t help grinning back at it.
It was the last time he smiled all day, because his band is starting to fall apart. Danneel’s sitting on the arm of a couch, biting her nails nearly to the quick, Misha’s been pacing so much that the floor beneath him is beginning to look a little shinier, and Mike’s run off to the bathroom twice so far to puke.
“Why are you nervous?” Jensen asks when he gets back from trip number two. “You’re not even getting on stage.”
“Channeling your energy, I guess,” Mike says. “Or haven’t you noticed the way you’ve started rocking back and forth?”
Jensen has a quick “fuck you” on his tongue, but suddenly Jared’s there, thumbing through the pages on his clipboard with his cell phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He writes something frantically with a few hasty “uh-huh”s to whoever is on the phone, then he clicks the phone shut with a huge sigh.
“Situation with the lighting crew. There’s always last second mayhem, you know?” Another glance at his clipboard, and Jared tells them they’re on stage around the middle of the show, in between bands from two other companies. “They’re rookies too, so you won’t have to go after guys with six records out already.” He says it with a smile, but Jensen can hear the nervousness underneath the professionalism. Jared’s just as scared as they are. And why not? It’s only his words they’ll be singing up there. “Anyway,” Jared adds. “When you hear them call Celestial, get ready to go on.”
“Oh god,” Mike says, then he’s off running for the can again.
“Hey,” Jared says, this time quieter and directly to Jensen. “Good, I mean, break a leg.”
“You too, man.”
*****
When the announcer introduces The Circus Bugs, Jared’s heart leaps into his throat. They rush onto the stage, and maybe it’s because Jared’s looking, but he notices Jensen’s hands shaking as he plugs in to the amp.
Watching from offstage, Jared crosses his fingers. He takes a quick look at the audience and gulps. Sitting next to Jared's boss are the members of Idgits, and each of them is smirking cruelly at the stage, like they're expecting some catastrophe. As he's watching, Chris leans in close to Jim's ear and tells him something, and Jim's eyes widen in what can only be panic. Jared crosses his fingers behind his back and asks whoever's listening for the best.
When asked later, Jared says he can’t remember much of the performance itself. Just the way that opening note sounded, sure despite Jensen’s apparent nerves, and how the first line of verse sounded right at home in amid the chords. He doesn’t know how it happened, but Jensen was right: the two pieces of themselves just mesh.
Then the audience is clapping and cheering, and Jared comes to as they’re hustling offstage again. When they get close and Jared sees the epic grin on Jensen’s face, lit up from happiness or adrenaline or who knows what, Jared reaches out and pulls Jensen into a hug. “That was incredible,” he says into Jensen’s ear, and he can feel Jensen’s shaking laughter against him as he hugs back.
“Yeah, it really was.”
*****
“The judges have spoken,” the announcer says. “And I have the results of our top five contestants right here.”
“Tied for fourth place, from Avalon Albums, Kilgharrah, and from Big Dam Records, Saltlines!”
“In third place, also from Big Dam Records, The Circus Bugs!”
“In second place…”
*****
“I have something for you,” Jared says, when the celebration has ended and they’re finally alone. It’s been hours since the show ended, and they still can’t believe they pulled it off.
Jensen puts down his beer and sees that Jared is holding a packet of papers. They’re bound at the top, looking very official, and Jensen goes very, very still. “Jared, is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, can’t hope that much.
But Jared grins, huge and brilliant. “A contract for representation. Jim asked me to pull it while you guys were getting set for the party, make you guys officially part of the Big Dam family. Seems we have an opening after the Idgits made up some crap about me hiring a freaking lip-sync band. So, the spot's yours. You know, if you want it.”
And it’s a good thing they’re alone, because Jensen shows him just how much he wants it. He wants everything Jared can possibly give him from now on.
end
Title: Just Forget the Words
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,970
Pairing/Characters: Jared/Jensen, various CW folks you should know and love by now
Summary: Written for j2_everafter. Based on A Bug's Life. Jensen's always dreamed of hitting it big but never quite had the means. So what happens when he meets Jared, who's set on making those dreams come true?
Warning: Alternating POVs.
Beta: The great and powerful juice817, who puts up with me sending her panicked emails at the last second. Any other errors are mine and mine alone. You can't have them!
Jensen's always had a thing for music. If his mother is to be believed, he hummed along to his lullabies as an infant and wouldn't lie down for his nap until MTV's Top 20 Video Countdown was done. He always blushes when she tells those stories.
He does remember building his own guitar when he was eight years old, using an old shoebox, a broom handle and the tied-together shoelaces from his father's cross-trainers. It made a dull thunk noise when he plucked the string, but his parents got the hint. That Christmas, he received a kid-sized acoustic and beginner's lessons from Santa, and he barely put that guitar down until he was old enough to use his summer job savings to buy a second-hand Fender.
In high school, his friends thought it would be so cool to start a band. Since Jensen already knew how to play, they though they had a one-up on the other dreamers in their schools. It would have helped if any of them had any musical talent themselves. Misha couldn't make his fingers bend the right way for bass, Mike looked like a spaz behind his rented drum kit, and Danneel's singing voice sounded similar to a cat trapped inside of bagpipes.
They gave up on the original band idea quickly once they all agreed they sounded horrible.
It was more entertaining, anyway, to toss on a CD from a female-fronted band and sync along with it. Mike could be as exuberant as he wanted, Misha didn't have to hit all of the strings in order to look good, and Jensen could stop wearing earplugs whenever they "practiced."
And the day Jensen's father came downstairs and told them to “quit clowning around” and get back to doing their homework, well, that was the day The Circus Bugs, the area's first and probably only lip-sync band, was officially born.
Seven years and a college education later, they're still booking a few gigs as opener at local venues. They put on a good show, playing it up for all of the guests and getting the audience involved. They even have their own groupies, if you can count the two guys who sit at every show, requesting Freebird.
And sometimes, Jensen will sit in his apartment, plucking his six-string for real and dreaming about taking his own show in the road.
*****
With an English teacher for a mother, words have been a huge part of Jared's life. Chad still hasn't forgiven him for the Scrabble game in third grade when Jared played first "quixotic" and then "squeezes," taking the triple word score, triple letter, and double seven-tile Bingos like it was nothing.
He knew from a young age that he wanted to be a writer, but he didn't dream about the Great American Novel. In fact, his professors blinked twice at him when he confessed a love for poetry. More specifically, for lyrics.
Of course, no one seemed to know how to get into professional lyric writing, which is how he ended up with a degree in creative writing and a starting position as the personal assistant to Jim Beaver, Chairman and A&R of indie label Big Dam Records.
The same Jim Beaver who is sounding more and more tense the longer he stays on the phone with the drummer from Idgits. David had called ten minutes ago in a bit of a panic, and Jared had patched him straight through to Jim’s office. He’s regretting it now as he listens to Jim’s side of the conversation.
“Is this the kind of laryngitis that comes from getting sick or the kind that comes from getting stupidly drunk and screaming at the top of his lungs three days before our major invitational?” There’s a short pause before Jim adds, “Well, you all certainly named your band properly.” Another pause, then, “No, I don’t think you get how upset I am. We’ve been planning this Battle of the Bands for nearly a year now, small-label groups from all over the state are coming, and now the lead singer for my lead band is out of commission for at least a week.”
Jim slams the receiver down, and Jared gets the chance to take a deep breath and grab his clipboard before he’s called into the boss’ office.
“Scratch Idgits from the performance roster,” Jim tells him as he scrubs over his face with one hand. “Do we have anyone available to fill their slot?”
Jared flips through his papers, looking for a free name. “Not unless you want to change your mind about whether Seven Deadlies is performance-ready.”
“I’m not letting Seven up on that stage. That boy still hasn’t figured out the benefits of shampoo.”
“Thought not. We’ve got four already locked in. Lucy’s Plan is playing Arizona next week; Plight of Abel in Detroit. Cerberus Leash is vacationing in Ireland since they didn’t plan on being invited, and Viv from Three Inch Roots is still throwing a hissy fit about us not giving her a wardrobe allowance. And then there are the three groups that politely declined the invitation in the first place.”
Jim gives a sigh, then turns to his computer to start taking his frustration out on an innocent keyboard. “Find someone, Jared. Hell, hit the streets if you have to. But we’re not hosting this damn thing one group shy, got it?”
*****
Jensen tips back his beer, smiling around the bottle as the others at his table hoot and holler at a gig well done. They had been so on tonight with their Garbage routine that someone had actually come up after their set and asked Danneel how she sounded so much like Shirley Manson. They couldn’t have received a bigger compliment.
They even got to perform a little longer than normal, seeing as the headliners had to cancel last second. Something about the lead singer doing something incredibly stupid. To be fair, Jensen doesn't really care why they couldn't show, considering last time his group opened for them, their guitarist kept hitting on Danneel and their drummer threw an empty beer bottle at Mike's kit. They can stay gone.
The venue owner has been handing out drinks on the house as thanks for covering. Mike’s plastered, Misha’s looking like he’s not far behind, and Danneel is gulping down her cosmos instead of delicately sipping them like she was earlier. It really was a good night.
A little sloppily, Misha rises to his feet and lifts his drink, sloshing a bit over the rim and onto his hand. “A toast!” he slurs, and the rest of them raise their drinks in response. “To the best group ever. I’m sure we’ll be the first lip-sync band to earn a record deal.”
“To future groupies who want in our pants just because we’re famous! Female and male,” Mike adds with a leer in Danneel and Jensen’s direction.
Danneel’s smiling along. “To sold out venues!”
“And to platinum records,” Jensen clinks his beer bottle into everyone else’s drinks and chugs the rest down.
That’s when he notices the tall guy holding one of their ridiculous lime-green fliers and talking with the venue manager. The manager points at their table, and now this stranger is walking toward them. “Excuse me,” he says when he reaches their table. “I’m looking for The Circus Bugs.”
“That would be us,” Misha answers, and this guy smiles. It lights something up inside of Jensen because this guy has dimples and maybe Jensen has always been attracted to guys with huge, genuine smiles. And longer hair. And muscled figures that Jensen can trace even through layers of clothing.
“My name is Jared Padalecki. I represent Big Dam Records.” He starts passing out cards to all of them. Misha falls back into his seat and Mike starts coughing into his drink. Jensen tries to sit up straighter in his chair because he cannot believe the words that just came out of this dream guy’s mouth.
“We’re hosting the Indie Invitation this weekend. One of our bands had to drop out, and I was wondering if you all would like to perform.”
Danneel is practically shaking in her chair, keeping her lips pulled tight against the happy squeal Jensen knows she’s dying to let loose. The others are gaping in awe. So Jensen takes it upon himself to speak up.
“Where do we sign?”
*****
“Where did you find these guys?” Jim asks him when Jared tells him the good news in the morning.
“One of their fliers was posted downtown. I didn’t get there in time to hear them, but I asked the event rep, and he said they’re consistently great performers. Put on a show that everyone loves. Couldn’t say enough good things about them.” Jared debated leaving the next part out because he knows the ribbing he’s going to take for it, but in the end it’s all about selling the talent. “Plus, the group’s got the sex appeal working for them too. Gorgeous female lead, and don’t even get me started about their guitarist.”
“I won’t,” Jim says, and Jared can feel his blush starting. “Alright, get ‘em signed up and on the roster. I’m heading to the convention center to get things ready for sound checks.”
*****
In the light of day, Jensen takes another look at Jared and wonders where this beautiful, wonderful man came from, because he is now offering them the largest gig they’ve ever landed. Jensen hasn’t read most of the contract they’re all signing, but from what he can tell, they’re getting complementary lodging, fourth billing on the announcements, and more money than they’ve earned the last three shows combined.
“So we don’t schedule next to someone incompatible,” Jared says as Jensen adds his signature to the contract, “what’s y’all’s type of music?”
“We tend to stick with rock-alternative,” Jensen explains. “Stuff like Garbage, the Cranberries, you know.”
“Got it. So, um, you guys need extra tickets to the show for girlfriends or…” Jared cuts himself off and Jensen realizes there’s a hint of color on the guy’s cheeks. He’s blushing, and Jensen can’t help but smile.
“Well, Mike might want some for all of the groupies he’s imagining, but nah. Misha’s girl is overseas saving yaks or something, the men Danneel dates usually don’t last, and my boyfriend ditched me last month.” He keeps a close eye on Jared when he says that last part and doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows jump and something sparks in his eyes.
“Really?” Jared asks. At Jensen’s nod, he adds in a lower tone. “His loss.”
“Someone else’s possible gain,” he replies with a smirk. And yeah, he’s obviously flirting with - his manager? - Jared, but goddamn it, a hot guy is practically handing him all of his dreams on a silver platter. And said hot guy is definitely picking up on his signals, if the sly looks now heading his way are any indication.
Jensen winks and steps back, passing the pen to Danneel, who gives him a knowing smirk before adding her own signature.
Finally, they’re all done and Jared pushes away from his desk with a huge grin. “Great! Let’s head over to the center. Jim’s getting set for sound checks and you guys can get a good glimpse at the venue.”
*****
There's a band on stage when Jared and The Circus Bugs get to the center. They sound okay, but Jared can already pick up a bit of static over the mics that needs to be addressed.
The rest of the visiting bands are sitting in the audience, watching the proceedings, and Jared waves to his boss before grabbing a group of empty seats close to the stage. Jensen and his friends are looking around, amazed, and Jared can't help but smile. It's always a bit of a boost when he helps a band's dreams come true.
Half of the groups are doing their checks today, and Jared can already tell who are going to be the frontrunners in the competition. He doesn't pay too close attention as the time ticks by, just jots notes every once in a while, questions for Jim and the like. Sometimes, he spends a moment listening to the bands converse around him, notices who's getting nervous and who's overconfident.
But mostly, Jared's a little distracted by Jensen. He'd noticed the cues Jensen had sent his way in the office, how could he miss them? But now Jensen's being cruel, sitting sprawled in the cushioned chair, his leg solidly pressed against Jared's from knee to ankle, and he keeps sending Jared these tiny smirks like he knows exactly what he's doing.
In other words, Jensen's making it a little difficult for Jared to do his job. Not that Jared's complaining.
Close to the end of checks, the doors to the main hall open again, and the members of Idgits slink in. Scoping out what they're missing, Jared figures, and he's too comfortable to go over there and kick them out again.
That is, until Steve, their guitarist, crawls into the open chair next to Jared and starts talking loudly over the playing band. "We want back in."
"How are you going to manage that," Jared asks, "with your singer out of commission?"
"Chris is getting better." Steve points toward the back of the auditorium, and Jared sees their lead massaging his throat like if he applies enough pressure he'll be able to undo the damage. "He'll be set to go."
"Sorry, Steve. We already replaced you for the show." Jared gestures to the group beside him. Jensen's looking proud and maybe a bit smug, Mike's sticking his tongue out at Steve, and even Danneel's giving a condescending little wave.
Steve looks confused for a moment, then he looks pissed. "I know you assholes. You play at The Dive. You," and he points at Danneel, "threw wine at me."
"With good reason," Jensen says.
"Yeah, in case they never told you in Cro-Magnon school, no means no," Misha adds.
"They're not even a real band!" Steve whines, looking a little pink in the ears.
Jared sighs. "They're performing, Steve."
"But -"
"They're performing," Jared cuts him off. "Jim's already signed off in it, so unless you want to make him even more pissed at you guys, back the hell off and go sit in the back already."
Steve huffs and shoots out of his chair. "Fine. Make fools of yourselves. We've been thinking about dropping your sorry asses as representation anyway." He gives them the finger and stomps away.
Jared leans in toward Jensen, close enough so that when he speaks, his lips just barely brush the other man's ear. "She really threw wine in his face?"
Jensen turns, smiling and so, so close. "Nope. In his crotch. He had to go on stage looking like he pissed himself."
*****
Sound checks end for the day, and they all grab a late dinner before heading to the hotel. They each have their own single room, and Danneel tells them all good night before heading her own way. Mike and Misha head to the bar, eager to celebrate the day.
And Jensen can't wait anymore. He follows Jared to the elevator.
"They put me up here too so I can help with any last second things the groups need," Jared explains as he opens the door to his room. It's no larger than the rest of theirs, but it's already messier, papers strewn everywhere in some sort of organized chaos.
The papers are scattered even more when Jensen topples Jared onto the sofa, his lips seeking Jared's and his hands plucking at clothes already. "Goddamn it," Jensen groans. "I've been wanting to do this all damn day."
Jared chuckles, instantly with the program as he starts yanking Jensen's shirt up and off. "You're been driving me crazy, you know that?"
"You've got no problems with fucking the talent?"
Jared grabs Jensen's ass, holding him in place as he grinds up to against Jensen's groin. "None whatsoever."
"Good," Jensen says, and that's the end of their intelligent conversation for the night.
*****
Jared wakes up to the sound of papers rustling, and a quick glace at the clock tells him it's nearly 3am. The bed beside him is empty but still warm. He shoves the covers aside, grabs a pair of boxers from his nearby suitcase and goes to investigate the noise.
Jensen's sitting on the couch, barely dressed with only one leg through his jeans, and reading Jared's song notebook. Jared starts forward to grab the spiral back, but stops when he gets a good look at Jensen's face in the pale light.
"See something you like?" he asks, and Jensen startles in his spot.
"Sorry. I'm way too curious for my own good. It's a character flaw." Jensen lifts the book a little bit. "Did you write these?"
Jared nods, making his way to the sofa without any regard for his own near nakedness. "It's a bit of a hobby." He takes the book from Jensen and pages through it. "That's a lie. It's what I really want to do. S'why I started working for Jim. I wanted some sort of in with the business."
"They're good," Jensen tells him, and Jared grunts his thanks. "No, really. You could probably do really well if you keep that up."
Jared closes the spiral, dropping it among the piles of papers on the floor. "You were heading out, I take it."
Jensen looks down, as if just realizing he's not even half dressed. He slides his other leg into his jeans and grabs his shirt from the floor. "Yeah. I just figured…big day tomorrow and all."
"Right."
"Yeah, right." There's that awkward silence Jared always hates, but fortunately it only lasts a moment before Jensen sees himself to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course," Jared says. "Big day."
*****
When they get to the center the next morning for sound checks, Jensen hands Jared a CD.
“That’s sweet,” Jared says, a little confused. “But aren’t we a little old for passing mixed tapes to one another?”
“You’re never too old for mix tapes,” Jensen says with a smile. “But actually, that’s the set from our last show. I figured we’d only get time for one or two songs, so I didn’t know which you’d think would be a better fit.”
“Oh! In that case, yeah, I can give it a listen. Which do you think is your best work?”
“Well, Danneel always has a great time with I Think I’m Paranoid, but personally, I think audiences like Bad Reputation the best.”
“Bad…” Jared starts, then looks closer at the cover to the CD in his hand. “#1 Crush, Don’t Speak… Jensen, every song on here is named after someone else’s music.” Something cold and solid settles in his stomach, and Jared feels sick in an instant. “Don’t tell me you’re a cover band.”
“No,” Jensen draws out, slowly. “We’re not a… Jared, come on, you knew.” Jensen’s going pale, his eyes wide, and Jared’s stomach is roiling. “You knew.”
“Knew what?”
*****
“I’m so fucking fired. Jim might even go so far as to kill me.”
Jensen had hustled Jared and the rest of his bandmates into a small, empty office far enough from the stage that no one would hear them before explaining the situation to Jared. It’s a good thing too, because Jared hasn’t calmed down yet.
“I really thought you knew, Jared. We thought you asked us here as an opening act, something to make people laugh, not to actually perform.” Jensen wants to go over and physically stop Jared from pacing, but judging by the look on Jared’s face right now, the action probably wouldn’t be accepted well.
“Excuse me for expecting you all to be a real fucking band!” Jared tears a familiar green sheet of paper from his clipboard and waves it in Jensen’s face. “Your flier said nothing about lip-syncing, damn it!”
Jensen pulls the paper from Jared’s grasp and reads. “Oh fuck. Mike!” And his drummer at least has the common sense to cower. “I told you to fix this before printing.”
“They were printed already,” Mike says, backing into a corner and then sinking to the floor. “Figured I’d spend the twenty bucks it would cost to re-print on beer for the group instead.”
“That’s just great.” Jared fists his hands in his hair as he begins pacing again. “The show is tomorrow, and every group is to perform their own original songs live. No pre-recording allowed! Can you guys even play?”
“Jensen can,” Danneel says. The devastated look on Jared’s face shows that she’s not really helping though.
“I can,” Misha adds, and they all look at him, mostly in surprise. “Not bass, obviously. But I was planning on challenging Mike to a drumstick duel soon.”
“You can take it,” Mike says miserably from his corner. “Put Danny on bass too.” No one misses her cringe at that. “Don’t even try, missy. I’ve seen you mimicking the fret movements on the mic stand to keep beat sometimes.”
“So that’s one guitarist, a wannabe drummer, and an inexperienced bassist.” Jared looks dangerously close to ripping out some chunks of hair. “And your original song?”
That shuts everyone up. They gave up trying to make their own music back in high school. Jensen doesn’t think any of them have written a note or lyric in their li-
“We’ve got that covered,” he says.
He can feel his bandmates staring at him, but he’s only looking at Jared, hoping he takes the hint.
Which he does. “Oh no. No. Stop thinking about it right now.”
“Come on, Jared. I saw them; you’re good. We’ll throw together some music and everything will be fine.”
“Fine? How’s it going to look when the hosting label of a Battle of the Bands introduces a thrown-together band with thrown-together music?”
“Better than if it’s found out that the hosting label hired a lip-sync band?” Mike says, and Danneel slaps him upside the head.
“We start working now, and we might have something usable by tomorrow morning,” Jensen assures Jared, and now he does reach out and lightly touches Jared’s arm. “What have we got to lose?”
*****
That night when Jared gets back to the hotel after finishing his final preparations, The Circus Bugs have already worked out the basics. Together, they all spend the next six hours and seven pots of coffee sequestered in Jared’s hotel room putting something together, and if Jared’s honest, it’s not just usable. It’s actually good.
“How the hell did you manage this?” Jared asks Jensen while the other man quietly plays a few notes and then changes the pencil marks on the sheet music in front of him.
“Honestly? It’s a tune I messed around with a bit when I was younger. When I read your notebook last night, it was like the words sang themselves into my song.” Jensen stops strumming and lets out a short laugh. “Man, I’m exhausted if I’m talking like that.”
“I think we’re all pretty wiped.” The others are starting to nod off where they’re sitting, and Jensen succumbs to a long yawn before answering.
“They’re gonna be useless tomorrow if we let them sleep on the floor.” Jensen shrugs off his guitar strap and moves to wake everyone, but Jared stops him by grabbing his wrist.
“You… Do you want to stay?” Jared asks. A small smile barely tilts Jensen’s lips, and Jared can see the “no” before it’s said. He lets go. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“I do,” Jensen says quickly, grabbing Jared’s hand back. “But I’m going to be uselessly unconscious the moment a mattress is under me.”
Jared sees something in the green eyes staring back at him, something that says maybe Jensen’s asking something of him, and he decides to take a chance. “I’m okay with that.”
Jensen’s smile becomes warmer, and he squeezes Jared’s hand before letting go. “Let me tuck the kids in first.” He rouses each of his groggy bandmates, and Jared watches as he leads them all out the door and to their own rooms.
Jared turns down the bed before Jensen gets back, and silently they both kick off their shoes and jeans. Jared pulls off his shirt, and in the time it takes him to yank it over his head, Jensen has landed facedown on the bed, out cold. It takes a moment for Jared to pull the sheets out from under Jensen’s feet and cover him.
Jared switches off the lights and slides into bed. Beside him, Jensen’s breathing deeply, and it lulls Jared into quickly following him to sleep.
*****
The convention center is a madhouse the next day. There are bands from all over the state, ready to prove that their label is the top in the indie business, and they’re all packed into every nook and cranny, turning instruments and warming up their vocals.
Jared was gone when Jensen woke up in the morning, with a note on his pillow saying not to freak, he just had to help Jim get everything set. He signed it with a smiley face next to his name, and Jensen couldn’t help grinning back at it.
It was the last time he smiled all day, because his band is starting to fall apart. Danneel’s sitting on the arm of a couch, biting her nails nearly to the quick, Misha’s been pacing so much that the floor beneath him is beginning to look a little shinier, and Mike’s run off to the bathroom twice so far to puke.
“Why are you nervous?” Jensen asks when he gets back from trip number two. “You’re not even getting on stage.”
“Channeling your energy, I guess,” Mike says. “Or haven’t you noticed the way you’ve started rocking back and forth?”
Jensen has a quick “fuck you” on his tongue, but suddenly Jared’s there, thumbing through the pages on his clipboard with his cell phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He writes something frantically with a few hasty “uh-huh”s to whoever is on the phone, then he clicks the phone shut with a huge sigh.
“Situation with the lighting crew. There’s always last second mayhem, you know?” Another glance at his clipboard, and Jared tells them they’re on stage around the middle of the show, in between bands from two other companies. “They’re rookies too, so you won’t have to go after guys with six records out already.” He says it with a smile, but Jensen can hear the nervousness underneath the professionalism. Jared’s just as scared as they are. And why not? It’s only his words they’ll be singing up there. “Anyway,” Jared adds. “When you hear them call Celestial, get ready to go on.”
“Oh god,” Mike says, then he’s off running for the can again.
“Hey,” Jared says, this time quieter and directly to Jensen. “Good, I mean, break a leg.”
“You too, man.”
*****
When the announcer introduces The Circus Bugs, Jared’s heart leaps into his throat. They rush onto the stage, and maybe it’s because Jared’s looking, but he notices Jensen’s hands shaking as he plugs in to the amp.
Watching from offstage, Jared crosses his fingers. He takes a quick look at the audience and gulps. Sitting next to Jared's boss are the members of Idgits, and each of them is smirking cruelly at the stage, like they're expecting some catastrophe. As he's watching, Chris leans in close to Jim's ear and tells him something, and Jim's eyes widen in what can only be panic. Jared crosses his fingers behind his back and asks whoever's listening for the best.
When asked later, Jared says he can’t remember much of the performance itself. Just the way that opening note sounded, sure despite Jensen’s apparent nerves, and how the first line of verse sounded right at home in amid the chords. He doesn’t know how it happened, but Jensen was right: the two pieces of themselves just mesh.
Then the audience is clapping and cheering, and Jared comes to as they’re hustling offstage again. When they get close and Jared sees the epic grin on Jensen’s face, lit up from happiness or adrenaline or who knows what, Jared reaches out and pulls Jensen into a hug. “That was incredible,” he says into Jensen’s ear, and he can feel Jensen’s shaking laughter against him as he hugs back.
“Yeah, it really was.”
*****
“The judges have spoken,” the announcer says. “And I have the results of our top five contestants right here.”
“Tied for fourth place, from Avalon Albums, Kilgharrah, and from Big Dam Records, Saltlines!”
“In third place, also from Big Dam Records, The Circus Bugs!”
“In second place…”
*****
“I have something for you,” Jared says, when the celebration has ended and they’re finally alone. It’s been hours since the show ended, and they still can’t believe they pulled it off.
Jensen puts down his beer and sees that Jared is holding a packet of papers. They’re bound at the top, looking very official, and Jensen goes very, very still. “Jared, is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, can’t hope that much.
But Jared grins, huge and brilliant. “A contract for representation. Jim asked me to pull it while you guys were getting set for the party, make you guys officially part of the Big Dam family. Seems we have an opening after the Idgits made up some crap about me hiring a freaking lip-sync band. So, the spot's yours. You know, if you want it.”
And it’s a good thing they’re alone, because Jensen shows him just how much he wants it. He wants everything Jared can possibly give him from now on.
end