Focus


For days, it's all Jensen can focus on.

Jared gets this certain twist to his lips when his accent slips - which is all the damn time - and some word or other throws them thousands of miles south and lands them smack in the Alamo. They'll be on set, and Jensen'll hear Jared go, and that's it, Jensen calls cut and they take twenty minutes to load Jared up on caffeine. He catches it before anyone else, the first slip-up, no matter how sharp-eared anyone else is.

Jared is more likely to slip when he is tired, or drunk. He is also more likely to slip when he is angry, horny, hungry, scared, pouting or smug. Or when it's Sunday, for cryin' out loud.

Jared sips his energy drink thing slowly. He always starts out slow, and by the bottom of the can, he's draining the dregs and slamming the can down on the table, flushed and ready to get back. Jensen's watched him drink a hundred cans of that shit. Sometimes he gets a bite, too, during this little break. He'll grab a donut or something and wolf it down in giant mouthfuls, food bumps erasing the dimples in his cheeks completely. He looks like a squirrel.

The most educational, though, is gum. When Jared chews gum, as he always does before scenes when he has to be remotely close to anyone, he can smile as he does it, and that's the thing that always turns Jensen's head. Something about the set of his mouth, the way he flashes a grin at whoever's holding the boom today, or at the girl doing his makeup, something about it is just...

Eye-catching. Or something. He can't really explain. He keeps trying to pin it down, but it eludes him. Jared doesn't remind him of anyone - God, nobody's anything like Jared - and it isn't that there's anything wrong with it. It looks normal enough. Good, even. It's just...

Jensen has an eye for detail, that's all. And when he can't figure out what it is, it bugs him.

They're forever making faces at each other. Jared'll pull his star struck, vapid teenager look on Jensen sometimes, and it cracks Jen up every time. They always read lines together - when they do scenes on the phone, Jensen's actually on the phone with him, doing Dean's lines and standing nearby, just off camera, so Jared can see him if he needs to. He acts the part, doing tears when they're required, or grossed-out faces that make Jared laugh. Jared does the same for him. So Jensen thinks that reasonably, he ought to have figured out what it is about Jared's mouth that keeps catching his eye.

Then one day, Jared's goofing around with an intern, one of their legion of set monkeys. The intern brings Jared coffee at the ass-crack of dawn, and Jared holds out his hands like an infant until the Styrofoam cup makes it safely into his grasp. He purses his lips and blows a cooling stream of air over the black surface, stirring the currents of steam that rise up, and that's it, that's what he's been looking for, that's it.

But for the life of him, Jensen can't figure out why he would need to see Jared's mouth like that, why it's at all important, or what it looks like.

Well. Aside from the obvious.

So for days, it's all Jensen can focus on.

He finds a dozen little excuses to get Jared to make that face. He even goes so far as to aim a kissy-face at him one afternoon, as a joke, and sure enough, Jared makes one back. Still nothing, no answers.

And so they find themselves at a bar. It's a quiet little place, private and out of the way, and they have a little room at the back that you can draw the curtain over so nobody can see you. And when you're Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, that's useful. They're tossing back shots and there's that sort-of-kind-of-familiar face again, and Jen puts his glass down on the table and turns to Jared, liquid courage burning through his veins.

"Jared," he says, squinting at him curiously. "Is there anybody you look like? Like, anybody ever tell you that you look like anybody?"

"Huh?" Jared puts down his shot glass too, the remains of his electric popsicle drawing wavy lines on the glass. His voice drawls out in the ultimate affirmation of that sometimes-when-I'm-drunk theory. "Naw, I don't think so. Just, y'know, my family. Like I look like my uncle, but that's it. Why?"

"I don't know," Jensen returns, squinting at him some more. "Y'know when you know there's something someone reminds you of, but you can't remember what, and it's just on the tip of your tongue but you can't quite... get it?"

"I remind you of something?" Jared squints back at him, as though Jensen's skull might be transparent, and then maybe he could read the answer right out of Jen's head. They are both very drunk, and this is logic.

Jensen studies him. "Yeah, but I can't... it's strongest when you make a kissy face." Jared looks confused and then makes a fish face, with his cheeks sucked in. "No, no," Jensen instructs as the bartender brings them more shots and excuses himself in total silence. "Less..." He makes motions at his cheeks that are supposed to mean relax, not so silly.

Jared tries to comply, focusing intently on Jen's face. He's a little confused, which helps to soften his mouth the right way, and then he opens just this little bit, like he's going to talk.

As Jared hits that perfect, perfect angle to his lips, Jensen is shocked to feel an instant bolt of lust jar though his whole body. It rushes through his blood, heating him and pulling him forward, and he's forced to sit back sharply so he doesn't fall onto Jared's face.

"What?" Jared asks, seeing that Jensen has come to a conclusion. "What is it, who do I look like?"

"Paris Hilton," Jen cracks lamely, and Jared rolls his eyes and starts shoving him.

"Come on, tell me. Tell me, Jensen, tell me. Tell me tell me tell me." He's pushing and shoving at Jen's shoulder, crowding into his space, shoving at him and pressing and there's too much, too fast, and then Jensen just grabs him and pulls his face down and kisses him.

It's perfect. It's success, triumph, eureka, this is it, yes. Jensen feels his joints go loose, his body get heavy.

Jensen goes to pull away, get back before something even weirder happens, but he's too late - Jared's on him, pulling him closer and angling his head, and then they're kissing again, harder. This time, Jensen feels purpose: Jared has intent. He knows what they're doing, swimming through the alcoholic haze and feeling that universal drive, and when they break apart again and stare at each other, shocked, they just gape like idiots.

"Do you...?"

"I don't..."

"Me neither."

"Of course not!"

"Okay, I gotta get a cab, we got an early call."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

And they flee the booth like horses at the starter's pistol.


"I'm not gay."

Jared blurts it out during their caffeine break one night, which is much earlier than it usually is. He's looking at Jensen warily, almost fearfully, table between them like a shield.

"Neither am I," Jen tells him urgently. He puts his hands up, palms out. "I didn't mean to, like..." he lowers his voice, making sure nobody's listening. "...hit on you or anything."

Jared laughs nervously. "Well, good, because if you did, that was the lamest way to hit on someone I've ever seen."

"No shit," Jen confirms, awkward. He picks up his coffee and stares at the rim of the cup. "So... we're good?"

"Yeah," Jared says. "Of course. Just. Y'know."

"Yeah," Jen confirms.

The rest of the night could not be more awkward. They're missing their cues and flubbing lines and they can't get anything right. Eric calls time of death, and everyone heads home. Jensen lives in the same neighborhood as Jared, and stops off for food so he won't have to follow Jared's taillights all the way home.

The next day's the same, and the day after. Their chemistry's off, their vibe isn't working, and Eric shuts things down at about eight that night. He calls them over, and they trudge up like misbehaving schoolboys. "Listen," Eric starts. "I don't know what your problem is, guys, but I want you to take tonight and get it resolved. We're gonna do second unit until noon, so go out, get hammered, beat the crap out of each other, just... kiss and make up, because I need you with me on this, or we might as well just close the whole thing down."

They both nod, chastened, and Eric leaves them alone.

"So."

"Yeah."

"What... what should we do?"

Jensen rubs a hand over his face. "I don't know, man. I..." He's got nothing. He doesn't know which way's up and he can't think. This is all crazy.

"Guys?"

Jen turns around and spots Jeffrey coming toward them. He looks... amused. "Hi, Mister Morgan," he smiles - both he and Jared had instantly refused to call Jeff anything but Mister Morgan to his face. Jeff rolls his eyes fondly at the nickname even as Jared echoes it beside him.

"Hi. Come with me." The boys glance at each other as Jeff keeps walking right past them, headed for the parking lot. They shrug and follow after him obediently, because they have exactly zero better options and Jeff is pretty cool, after all. He pushes a button on his keychain and a black SUV lights up and beeps softly. "Get in," Jeff invites, and not-invites.

They get in. Jeff pulls out of the lot and points them toward town.

"Where're we going?" Jensen asks, sitting in the front seat (which was automatic on everyone's part).

"I'm taking you two to get some food. What?" He smiles at their twin gobsmacked expressions, and blithely turns back to the road. They pull up some twenty minutes later outside a dingy little Chinese place, and Jeff hails the owners like old friends. They are ushered into a corner booth and brought water and tea, but no menus. The place looks awful - tacky wallpaper and mirrors everywhere, tablecloths surely from the seventies or earlier - but the china is real and there are polished wood chopsticks on the table. Jeff makes them put their cups forward and pours the tea himself, telling them it's polite in that culture. Jensen already knows that, and Jared says he does, but Jen's sure he's lying.

"So," Jeff says placidly, once they've all had some tea. He looks at them evenly, friendly. "You want to tell me about it? I could guess, but I'm pretty sure it'd embarrass you."

Jen glances guiltily at Jared and they both flush.

"I figured," Jeff says, and they both glance up hastily, worried. Jeff just laughs and fixes them both with his dark, perceptive eyes. "Y'know, for a couple of straight boys, you touch each other an awful lot, you know that? And then these past two days, you haven't been able to get within a foot of each other unless you're in front of the camera, and even then, you're awkward as a duck in Nevada. So I figure it goes something like this: couple nights back, too much booze, and all of a sudden something happens and you think you're queer. On track so far?"

They stare at him.

"I thought so."

There is a sudden riot of noise as both of them try to talk over each other long enough to assure Jeff that nothing really happened, that it was just the booze, that nobody ever did anything like this and they didn't mean it and blah, blah, blah. Even Jensen, hearing the words coming out of his own mouth, realizes they're just defensive garbage. He drops his head against his hands, and hears Jared do the same a minute after.

"Guys?"

Jensen lifts his head just as the smell of very, very good food starts to curl into his nose. Two tiny little oriental people are putting food down on their table, and suddenly he's not so sure this place is Chinese after all, because even though there's rice and meat and vegetables and rolls of things, it still doesn't look like any Chinese food he's ever had. But it smells like a million bucks, and Jared's looking too. "Go on, load up," Jeff tells them, bowing slightly to the oriental people, who are bowing back to him, talking away merrily about something Jensen doesn't understand. Jeff chats back at them, in their own language, and the three of them laugh. Jensen tries bowing a little too, just a nod of the head in thanks. Jared's a second ahead of him, and the owners of the restaurant bow to them too, and gesture emphatically that they should eat.

They pile their plates high, following Jeff's lead on what to put on top of what, and Jensen just about slides out of the booth at how good it really is. There's coconut involved somewhere here, he's sure of it. Jeff barely stops him in time before he eats some tiny chili pepper that Jeff assures him would have incinerated him, and Jared picks it out of Jeff's hand and eats it anyway, for which he proceeds to be very sorry. Of course Jensen has to eat one too, and it leaves him coughing and spluttering just like Jared. And then Jeff knocks one back like it's candy and they both accuse him of being an alien.

Later, they are fed and full and the big serving plates have nothing left on them. They ate some kind of fruit for dessert that was served over ice, and popped in their mouths like really big grapes. And there was mango, and some kind of pudding with black beans that Jared only tried because Jensen did first. Of course, it was excellent.

"Well," Jeff says, in the tone of summing up. "My job here's done."

They both look at him, a little aghast. "What?" Jared exclaims. "But..."

Jeff puts up a hand to stop him, mid-sentence. "I said the thing out loud and I fed you. You guys have to do the rest on your own."

They glance at each other, a little shamefaced. Jensen wonders idly what's supposed to be different now, but he already knows, in a way. It feels different, somehow.

"Come on," Jeff says kindly. "I'll take you home."

Jared and Jensen fight over who gets to pay the check, and they wind up splitting it. They pile in the car, and Jensen gives his address, because he's closer. When they pull up to the curb, Jen gets out. "Thanks," he says, addressing Jeff as he leans back into the car. "That place is awesome, I'll have to remember it."

"Hey, anytime," Jeff says, smiling at him.

"So, see you guys on set tomorrow."

He's all set to shut the door, but Jeff's voice stops him. "Whoa, there, Jensen. Me, yeah, but not him. Him, you see right now." Jeff talks to Jared over his shoulder. "Out."

Jared blinks at him. "What?"

Jen, also, is blinking. "What?"

"Get out of the car," Jeff carefully articulates. He rounds out each syllable precisely, talking-to-a-monkey voice. "Go in the house with Jensen and talk until you can be brothers again, or I will kick both of your asses."

Jared is left standing on the curb with Jensen, and they watch Jeff's taillights recede into the Vancouver night.


Jensen turns his key in the door and prays this won't be as horribly awkward as it looks like it's going to be. Jared stands stiffly behind him, waiting for the door to open, and Jen can't think of a time he's seen Jared like that when he wasn't being Sam. He's such an open, friendly guy, and this...

It's just weird.

He sighs and pushes the door open, toes off his sneakers at the door. Behind him, Jared does the same - they've both gotten into the habit in Canada, though Jared picked it up from him. He picked it up from Michael Rosenbaum.

Jen's halfway down the hall, about to ask Jared if he wants some water or something, because what an awesome way to keep busy and not fuckin talk about this for another ten minutes, when his equilibrium goes haywire. Strong hands are hauling him back and pushing him up against the wall, and then there's Jared right in front of him. For a second he's terrified that Jared's going to hit him - not because he's afraid to get hit, no way, who cares? - but if Jared hits him, that could mean the end of a lot of things, not a small one of which is his whole frigging career.

Jared does not hit him.

Jared pushes him up against his own wall, knocking against the little hall table, and then leans in and kisses him. Hard.

Jensen doesn't have time to process that before Jared's moving back away and peering at him assessingly. "What?" Jen stutters, blinking, his mouth still feeling the ghosts of pressure and heat. "What the hell was-"

Jared interrupts that question with his tongue.

Jen tears away from him and pushes him until he feels the jarring impact of Jared's back against the far wall, and he holds him there, more than a little freaked out. His body is waking up, and in his head, he is being a little hysterical about telling it to go back to sleep. "Man, what are you doing?"

Jared just glares at him. "We gotta do something. We tanked out there today, and yesterday. Even Jeff knew it. So I figure it's this, or we could fight, but Eric said not the face if we fight, and I'm pretty sure I'd hit you in the f-"

Jensen puts a stop to that tirade.

They kiss hungrily, hastily. It's messy, not anything like what Jensen's used to. He's kissed dozens of people for a dozen reasons, and this - mouths open too wide, pushing too hard, tongues warring with each other for dominance and fingers bruising his shoulder and arm - this is different. For one thing, his face is tilted up.

When they break apart, they're both breathless. Jen feels the harsh wing beats of warm air over his face, feels his heart pounding with adrenaline. "This is fuckin crazy," he breathes, leaning his forehead against Jared's stupidly long neck as Jared tips his head back, letting his head fall against the wall. "I'm not gay."

"Me either," Jared says, but his hands tighten on Jen's shirt, like Jen's gonna go somewhere. "I don't know what we're doing, even, I just..."

For the first time in three days the understanding they felt the first day they ever met kicks in, and Jensen knows exactly what he's talking about. "I don't like guys," he explains for both of them. "But I'll do this, because..."

Explanations fill his mind. Because they have to. For the show. Because Eric and Jeff practically forced them. Because they were drunk. Because...

"Because I want to." Jared's voice, deep and sure, says the words in his head, and this time when their mouths meet, it's both of them pushing and bruising each other. Jared tastes like cedar, like that cinnamon gum he's always got in his mouth, warm and spicy. Jensen wonders what Jared's tasting, and then feels Jared's hand, hard at his back, pulling him closer.

When he comes up flush against Jared's body, he knows Jared isn't thinking about what kind of gum Jen likes.

They stop after a minute or two, and Jensen's shaking. He went bungee jumping once, six hundred feet straight down with nothing to stop his head from cracking against the rocks like an egg except a goddamned rubber band around his ankles. And when they finally hauled him back up and he stood on solid bridge again, he almost couldn't move, even though he wasn't really scared anymore. It was purely physical, just a rush of endorphins and neurons and God knows what else, but his legs weren't moving, thanks very much.

They stare at each other for a minute. Jensen can see the question in Jared's eyes, same as his: what do we do now? They've got the kissing part down, he thinks, but do they go upstairs? It seems a little... fast. He doesn't know. It's dumb, and he doesn't want to think, he just wants to do. He can see his confusion mirrored in Jared's face, and so he takes a deep breath and lets it out again, just to try to calm down.

"How about the couch?" he suggests, kind of a midway point.

Jared nods, it makes sense, so they pull apart. Jensen doesn't know what to do with his hands so he shoves them in his pockets, and they head for the living room like that. They wind up on opposite sides of the couch, looking at the cushions and the floor and the black TV screen, fidgeting with their hair and their clothes and their keys.

"So."

"Well," Jared starts, "I guess we just... start? And see what...?"

"Yeah," Jen says, edging a little closer to him and clearing his throat. "That makes sense."

Jared looks up at him, nervously. "All right." Suddenly, his sunshine smile breaks out from behind the tension, and he raises an eyebrow. "Let's do this thang."

Jensen cracks up at the twang and it's ten times funnier than it should be. They both collapse, laughing, rolling their heads and holding their stomachs. Jen's not laughing at the joke, but it still feels good. It feels normal.

When they finally get hold of themselves, Jared's closer. Jen reaches out a hand, cautiously, like he's picking up a snake, and lays it on Jared's shoulder. Now they can't tear their eyes off each other, and Jen can read the freak-out all over Jared's face. It hits him where he lives for a second - he's freaking out too, and it's good to know exactly what Jared's thinking again. "Hey," he says softly, and Jared blinks. "We don't have to do this."

It was just the right thing to say. Jared's face hardens, gets determined, and he leans in. "Yes, we do," he whispers, and his mouth touches Jen's gently. It's a shock to the system, a switch flipped - Jen's lips are still sensitive from when they were crushing their mouths together, fighting, and the softness now makes him close his eyes and just go with it.

Jared kisses him - really kisses him. Jared's big paw of a hand comes up and touches his face, threads into his hair, and that feels good. Jen's trying to kiss him back, not think about that it's a guy and that it's Jared, and then he feels the quiet, gentle sweep of Jared's tongue across his top lip. He feels it in places he hadn't thought he would, low down and deep in his chest. He shifts his hips, trying to ease the pressure a little, and slips his hand around Jared's waist. It's a little awkward, but they find a way to sit that's better, that fits more.

This time, when they pull apart, Jen's not breathless because of adrenaline.

"Okay, that's good," Jared decides, wiping his thumb across his mouth.

"Yeah," Jen agrees, sitting back a little and trying to get himself under control.

Jared's hand appears on Jensen's chest suddenly, without warning. Jensen realizes, after a second's thought, that he just wasn't paying attention when Jared moved - he was busy back there with lips and teeth and tongue. Jared's hand is just over Jen's heart, thumb rubbing a little. It's... kind of funny, actually. He's just sitting there, with his palm out. "What are you doing?" Jen asks, smile tugging at his lips.

Jared blushes, but his hand stays where it is. "I'm trying the next part. What? If you're going to be a jerk about this..."

He's dead serious and starts to pull his hand away, but Jen catches him. He puts his hand over Jared's, pressing it against his shirt. "No, no, I'm not laughing. I mean, I was, but not at you." Jared relaxes a little, and his hand goes back to what it was doing under Jen's fingers. "I just thought it was funny," Jensen continues, gently. "Cause I'm damned if I know what I'm doing, here, and so are you, and we're idiots. That's all."

Jared smiles a little. "Okay, we're idiots. That's familiar, anyway."

Jensen chuckles, low in his throat, and then Jared's moving toward him again. Their mouths touch and Jen finds it's easier now, not so awkward. It feels good, he knows it well, and he's not thinking so much about 'how' as about 'more'.

Jared's hand is tightening on his chest, fingernails scraping subtly over his skin. Jen slides his hand down and takes Jared by the wrist, letting his fingers rest there as that careful, cautious tongue comes back, stealing all his attention. Jared licks him lightly at first, unsure, and then harder when Jen meets him and tilts his head, giving him better access. Jen's not sure who groans first, but then they both do, and it's good to hear Jared make those sounds. It's reassuring, lets him know Jared's just as much into this as he is, and he needs that.

Or, his mind does, anyway. The rest of him's on board already, yelling for his mind to hurry the fuck up already. He's hard, harder than he can remember being in a long time, and he shifts uncomfortably, trying to get his jeans to stop pressing his cock against his belly quite so tight.

The movement makes Jared's hand slip down a little. Those fingertips go from his chest to his stomach, and Jen shudders. He knows what he wants, knows what his body's shrilly demanding. It wants that hand lower, harder. It wants him to use the hand on Jared's wrist to guide him south, down to where Jensen needs him. And it feels...

God.

Cautiously, Jen tightens his fingers around Jared's wrist and edges that hand down, just a little. Jared goes with it, doesn't even break rhythm. If anything, he kisses Jen deeper, his hand cupping Jen's head a little more. He groans again, low in his throat, and Jen tries it again, pushing down.

They part mouths, just a fraction, enough to get their breath.

"Jared," Jen asks, barely-there syllables in the heated space between them. He can't believe he's asking, but he can't believe he's waiting either. "Can I?"

Jared catches his eyes, looks at him squarely. Jen can see him get his courage up, a mental squaring of the shoulders. "Do it," Jared whispers, and Jen moves his hand; Jared ducks in to kiss him again, and Jen can't stop himself from moaning long and loud into Jared's mouth when those big, hard fingers grip his cock through his jeans.

He bucks his hips into that hand, the heat of Jared's palm soaking through the fabric almost immediately. He takes Jared by the shirt and pulls him closer, and Jared somehow manages to get them both moved and arranged and set up in about two seconds and then Jen is lying on his couch with Jared on top of him, eating at his mouth and massaging his hand in perfect time with the slamming of Jen's heart.

Jen thinks this is maybe a little unfair.

He puts his hands on Jared's back and slides down, pulling the hem of his shirt from the back of his jeans. As the first gust of cool air hits the skin, Jared gasps and lifts his head, his hand stilling.

Jen looks at him evenly. "Okay?" Jared squeezes his hand and Jen's head falls back, his eyes close and he is groaning without any input from his brain at all. "Ohhh, fuck..."

Jared's voice, from somewhere above him: "Shit." The word slides out on the exhale, Texan for Jesus, you couldn't look any hotter. Jensen hears it, clear as day.

"Come on," Jen urges, fisting his hands and pulling up on the fabric, and Jared pauses for a second but then ducks his head and lets Jen take the shirt off him, over his head. Jen drops them beside the couch and reaches back, eyes still closed. He meets hot skin and focuses on Jared's waist, the small of his back, slender and soft. That feels good. That feels right.

Jared groans when Jen's fingers touch him and he squeezes again, pressing his own advantage. Jen thinks it's hard to resist Jared when he wants something, it always is, but he's not sure what Jared wants and he's pretty sure Jared isn't either. But fuck if it isn't really, really good all the same.

Then Jared's hand is gone, and Jen is about to bitch when he feels the soft tug at his belt. His eyes fly the fuck open and he's trying to sit up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I want, Jared, I don't know what..."

He stops talking. He's ruined everything, he's sure, but Jared just sits back, breathing heavy. "It's okay," he says, and Jen isn't really sure who he's talking to. "Don't worry about it. We can stop, if you want, I just, I..."

Jen can see him, see the words before they even come out of Jared's mouth. I was trying to do this thing and I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. Whoops? Jen shakes his head at himself, can't believe he's the one who flipped out first. He pinches his nose, up high, where he wears his glasses. "No, no, I'm sorry, man. My fault."

Jared's quiet for a second. "Yeah, okay," he says, gently, and Jen looks up at him gratefully. Jared just smiles. "Well, we gotta give some kind of latitude, right? I mean, we're gonna fuck it up. Pretty much a guarantee. So what else is new?"

Jensen laughs, and the tension eases a little. "Okay," he says. "So..."

"So," Jared picks up. "I think I should not be the only one with no shirt on."

Jen nods; that sounds fair. "Okay," he says, pulling up at the fabric. Jared helps him off with it, and then stares. And stares.

And stares.

Jensen is blushing like a fiend. He forgot he was wearing that today. He almost covers it with his hand, but stops at the last second. "Yeah, um."

"Yeah, um, you have your nipple pierced, Jensen!"

Jen pauses, just looking flatly at him. "Thanks, Jared. Thank you. I'm not sure I could have kept doing this without you saying something stupid. I was starting to think you were a robot."

"Shut up," Jared says absently, still staring at Jen's chest. His fingers come up, and then he hesitates and looks up at Jen's eyes. "Can I... play with it? I mean, is it safe?"

Jen looks at him, blushing even harder. "Yeah," he says, awkwardly moving his arms out of the way so Jared can have access. "Yeah, it's okay."

"Awesome." Jared's fingers touch the metal softly, cautiously. "Why didn't I know you had one of these?" he asks, flipping it up, and then back down.

Jen hisses as the pleasure touches off through him. "Uh... I take it out. When we're shooting, usually. If we're gonna be... doing sleeping or something. But..."

He stops talking, again. Jared's just not listening. He flips it up and down, up and down, and then tugs once, lightly. Jen sucks air in through his teeth, and Jared's deep, mellow voice comes floating through the air like summer heat, warming Jen's skin. "I knew a girl once, had two of these. I played with her for hours, just with my hands and my mouth, and she got so riled up she came. Just from these."

Jen believes it. Right now his mind is a demented pit of Jared's pierced girl, of his mouth on her, of his mouth on Jensen, of the soft pull and twist of the steel on his body. He wonders if he could be like that girl, and knows he won't find out tonight, but he's sure Jared's thinking the same thing and he can't keep his voice corralled - he groans low and long, and there's something that sounds suspiciously like Jared's name at the end of it.

"Can I... Jensen?" Jen looks up and sees Jared looking at him, the question in his eyes. He's sure of what's being asked, he knows it, and he can't think, can't do anything but nod.

Jared's head descends and Jen's hands are in his hair, and then that hot, slick mouth is pulling the ring into it, tongue tugging, slipping over sensitive skin, and Jensen cries out. He arches his back up off the couch, feels Jared's chest sliding over his belly. He can feel all that heat above him, settling down through his bones and lighting him up like dry grass. He presses his hips up into Jared's body, feels Jared's hands on his sides, holding him down, holding him steady. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jared..."

Jared surfaces, licking his lips. Jen can see the shine on the ring, on his skin, where Jared's mouth has been. "I always wondered if they were the same for everyone," he muses. "I guess they are."

As the haze clears, Jen becomes aware that he's got a leg up and over Jared's, something to give him a little more leverage. He blushes some more, and goes to move his leg, but Jared catches him by the thigh and holds him there. "No, go ahead," he encourages. "I won't... I'm not assuming... anything."

Jen's brows come together. He's a little irked. Not at the offer, of course - that was nice - but at the whole way this looks like it's going. Even though Jared's hinting it's not really going there, he wants to know he's still got some kind of power left. Anything less is, at the moment, unacceptable.

So he reaches for Jared's belt.

Jared sucks in a breath when Jen's fingers slide between his skin and the denim, but he doesn't put a stop to it. He hovers above Jen's body and just lets him open the buckle, the button.

Jen stops at the zipper. He feels off balance, swinging wildly around, and he almost wants to stop and just take a breath, try to relax and think about this. He looks up at Jared, needing some kind of sign that this isn't a total mistake.

Jared leans down and blows across the wet skin, and Jensen makes some loud exclamation that makes no sense but still sounds something like oh, you smirking fuck.

Because of course he's smirking.

Jen slides that zipper down and then slips his fingers under the elastic of Jared's boxers. When he palms Jared's cock, he almost freaks right out - it's hard, hot, wet at the tip, humid, everything he knows to associate with sex is right here. And it's off. It's wrong.

But then he looks at Jared's face and sees the tortured, almost-pain look on his face. He notes that Jared is not moving - that he is, in fact, shivering. He's biting his lip hard enough that it's gone white under his teeth, and his eyes are hidden under lashes shut tight against the pleasure. Jensen can't help but smirk, because revenge, it is sweet.

He squeezes experimentally, hears Jared make a high-pitched noise and wrinkle up his forehead even tighter, if that's possible.

Jensen's smile turns sharkish. This will be fun.

"Bedroom?" Jen asks softly, his hand working slowly.

"Bedroom," Jared echoes, and Jen chooses to take that for agreement and pulls his hand out of Jared's pants.

"Come on," he says, pushing up on Jared's shoulders. They get up and make for the stairs, Jensen leading the way. His bedroom is second on the left and he leads Jared into the big room with its black bed. The minute Jared's in the door, Jen pushes him down on the mattress, but when he goes to crawl up after him, he has to stop. He's not really sure what to do with his legs, is the thing - inside of Jared's, or outside? He glances up and sees that Jared can see his problem, and Jared laughs a little and hauls himself up to the pillows, letting Jen take the other side so they can face each other.

Jen settles there and works his hand back to where it was, curled around Jared's cock and squeezing lightly.

Jared just breathes, deep and hitching up in his chest, and reaches for Jen's belt. He doesn't stop to ask, just takes it off, and Jen doesn't stop him. He wants to feel this, too. There's the jingle of metal, the hiss of his zipper, and then Jared's hand is on him, around him. Jen sighs and presses his hips up, thrusts into Jared's hand, and squeezes his hand tight.

"You look good," comes Jared's voice, tearing low and rumbling. Jen opens his eyes and tries to focus, and everything goes all blurry again when Jared squeezes and flicks his thumb over the tip of Jen's dick, where it's gone wet and necessary. "You look real good, Jensen..."

That voice is doing things to him. The voice, the hand, the soft blankets under him and the twice-damned shy flush that always hits him when someone likes the way he looks, it's not fucking fair. He's gonna come, he knows it, and in the distant way he can hear his own voice cracking over the breaths he takes, he's sure Jared knows it, too. But there's nothing he can do about that; he just lies in Jared's arms and forgets to stroke back, he just honestly forgets because the pleasure's flooding his brain and his cheeks are too hot and Jared's hand is tight and slick now. And then hot, melting pressure hits his chest as Jared tugs that nipple ring again with his tongue, and Jen bites off some kind of warning and then he's done for.

His hips jerk, his whole body jerks. It's just tight enough, in just the right places, and Jen starts coming back in slow, pleasant waves. Jared's hand is tight on the base of his cock, squeezing gently. Jen has to take a minute to let go - his hands are gripping Jared's arm and shoulder, which he didn't notice. He focuses now, for real, and Jared's just sort of staring at him.

"Hey," Jared says, in that deep, scratchy voice, his drawl carving a path right through the air and into Jen's head. He leans forward and lays a kiss on Jen's forehead, gently.

"Hey," Jen says, blinking. He feels constitutionally infuckingcapable of having rational thoughts right now, thanks very much, and Jared smiles at him. Jen notices he looks a little uncomfortable, a little squirmy. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Jared says, but it's unconvincing. "You gotta clean your bedspread later, you know that?"

"Yeah," Jen laughs, weakly. "I figured." He touches Jared's chest, lets his fingers trail southerly. Just seems like the neighborly thing to do.

"Oh, hell, yeah," Jared groans, his hips pushing forward as his eyes close, and Jen feels like he ought to say something, or... he doesn't know. Something. Because Jen got to be the first one to come, and maybe he should make up for that. Or make it better or something. Jared did that thing with his mouth, and Jen's ring, and it was... well, it was good, anyway.

"Jared?" he asks, hesitantly, like he's not sure anyone'll answer him, like he isn't sure he's the one talking.

"Jen, Jen, fuck..."

Jared's a mess of dark hair, darker eyes, tan skin and red, red cock, and Jen can't stop staring. He clears his throat, eyes skimming over Jared's skin. "I... I wanna..."

"Don't say it," Jared groans, his hand sliding up Jen's arm to grip tight. Jared looks straight into his eyes, that shoulder-squaring thing again. "I don't care. I trust you, okay? Just do it."

Jen nods, takes a deep breath, and then leans forward and puts his mouth on Jared's belly.

Jared shouts, his head falling back, loud as he did when Constance Welch had him pinned down in the car. "Aw, fuck, fuck, yeah..."

It's just a little bite, nothing to get excited over, but Jared's acting like it's Gabriel's trumpet and damn if that doesn't make Jen smile a little. "What's the matter," he asks, gently mocking. "Never had one before?"

Jared opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and Jen guesses he's got a little leeway based on where his head is, and the fact that he's started lightly stroking. He kisses that lean, flat stomach again, just to feel it under his mouth, not so very different from a girl, really. Jared's into openmouthed groaning now, and it occurs to Jen that maybe he shouldn't be surprised that Jared can't fuckin' shut up for ten seconds, even in bed. Maybe especially in bed. He smiles, almost laughs, and then decides it could get taken wrong, so.

Jen feels his hair move, and then the tentative touch of Jared's fingers. It's the softest, most lightweight thing - Jared's letting him brush off the hand if he wants. He considers it, but Jen figures he can deal if things get weird, and right now the touch isn't anything, so that hand can just stay where it is. He pushes Jared onto his back and tugs at the jeans - Jared takes the hint immediately and rolls, kicks them off, his fingers burying themselves in short, sharp hair.

That long body's laid out in front of him, open and vulnerable. Jen feels like he ought to take his jeans off too, but keeps them anyway. What he's about to do oughta make up for any clothing issues.

Jen can't stop to think. He knows he can't. It's not good for anything.

He takes Jared's cock in his hand and strokes it once, twice, just to get Jared's eyes to close. He licks his lips, preparing. Don't think, he coaches himself. Don't think about it, just do it. Do it.

He opens his mouth and sinks down on Jared's cock like... like nothing. Like a blowjob. That's all this could possibly be. And he might freak the fuck out, he might lose his mind completely if it weren't for the unbelievably loud, ear-scalding string of praise and profanity wringing out of Jared's throat.

"Jensen, fuckin' Christ on a crutch, don't you stop, don't you fuckin' stop, Jensen, aw, fuck." His hand's still light on Jen's head, and his cock is thick and heavy, and so warm. Jen hadn't expected it to be so warm, for some reason, and it takes him a second to get used to it, just holding Jared there in his mouth, like that.

Jared twitches under his hands, throbs in his mouth, and finally the words come tumbling out: "Jensen, please. Please, Jen, just move..."

Tentatively, he lifts his head up and back, letting Jared slide from between his lips, and such a sound pours forth he actually lifts right up off, grinning. "I hope you warn people you make this much racket when they go home with you, because Jesus..."

"Shut up," Jared laughs, sounding pained, and Jen takes pity. He sinks down again, a little easier now that he's been there before, and Jared makes this strangling sound and thumps his head back on the pillow.

Jen breathes through his nose and wills the panic away. He concentrates on gentle sucking, on slipping his tongue over the right spots and not letting his teeth touch down. Jared bucks underneath him, groaning and desperate, and Jen has to hold his hips to the mattress to keep him stable. "Sorry," Jared grits out after the third time, and Jen lets the soft skin scrape against his teeth just once, on purpose. Jared curses, and if he wasn't busy with his mouth, Jen would smile.

It's not so bad, really. It's less weird than he'd thought it would be - after he gets past the holy shit part, it's just like sucking on fingers or toes. It's cleaner than eating out a girl, and no part of him has ever complained about that, so it's all right. Whatever he's doing, something about it is clearly good, because Jared's losing it. Every part of him is moving - hands, legs, head, hips - he's twisting and flexing.

Jen tries the things he remembers from being blown, things he likes. Some of them just get the same reactions as anything else he does, but some of them make Jared cry out and thrust against his hands, make big fists out of his fingers in the covers. Jen shifts against his mattress, feeling his body get interested again at all the cursing and groaning going on up at the pillows.

There's a kind of a thrill to it, a heady, low-down gut thing whenever he hears Jared's voice. The minute they met, it seemed, they were messing with each other, and it's pretty sweet to be so thoroughly winning right now. Jared's his, under his control, and Jen can do anything to him right now; he won't even notice. Jen can hear his breathing get ragged when he does this, feel the tremble in his muscles when he does that, and finally it's too much for him. His confession rushes out on a single breath. "Jen, I'mna come..."

Jen doesn't need to be told twice; he frees Jared's cock to slap down into his palm and jacks it hard and fast. Jared's voice is thin and reedy, but it tears out of him in a savage burst, falling on Jen's ears as the shudders rack him, as his body tenses, as his cock pulses in Jen's hand.

Jen can only stare. Jared's flushed and sweating, his body is laid out on Jen's bed just like a present, like a restaurant dinner. He's tan, healthy and pink and gold, and Jen can't help but notice that his mouth is that perfect shape again, the one he was looking for in the bar. It feels like... he doesn't know what it feels like. There's nothing that's ever even come close to this. It's fear, it's rage, it's awe and glory and hallelujah, and Jensen just watches and keeps doing what he's doing and hopes like hell it'll all turn out in the end, because he'll be goddamned if he can help it along. He doesn't even know what it is.

Jared's coming around now, lifting his head and peering down his body at Jen, who's lying between his thighs.

"Hey," he says groggily. His eyes are clouded and he doesn't look all there.

"Hey," Jen replies, because that's what he's supposed to say. He's amused, kinda tired. "C'mere," he says, trying to sit up, reaching out a hand. Jen climbs up from his spot and goes to lay down, and Jared pulls him into a loose clasp of arms. Jen shifts a little, not sure what to do with this, but Jared just snorts and tucks Jen's head under his chin. "I like contact after sex, okay? I'll be the girl; just shut up and quit squirming."

Jen has to smile. I'll be the girl. You're such a dork. He lays his head against Jared's chest, his arm over Jared's side and just tries to relax - it's easier than he thought. Jared's warm and he's got that dreamy lassitude thing still weighting him down. It's good. This can be good.

"Jen," Jared starts, and Jen's tempted to tell him no. Just no, for tonight, no talking. But if Jared wants to say things about this, Jen thinks, if he wants to get into it, he's just as much in this as Jen is. He's obliged. So they'll talk. Jen braces himself for whatever words are going to come out of Jared next - we can't talk about this, it was a mistake, it can't happen again.

"What in the hell were those little black things in the pudding? They were all... sandy."

Jen bursts out laughing. He laughs until the tears are running down his face, and Jared's hitting him in the shoulder, grinding his knuckles into Jen's hair, but he can't stop, gasping and trying to fight back but failing miserably. Jared's demanding to know what's so funny, but Jen can't get the breath to tell him.

Finally, they calm down and settle back into the same position as before - Jen wrapped up in Jared's arms, sleepy. Jen's cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.

"I just, I thought we were gonna have to talk about this. That's all. And then you said 'pudding' and I snapped."

Jared hums contemplatively, but doesn't say anything, just moves an idle thumb over a couple square inches of Jen's back.

"You gonna stay here?"

Jared shifts a little. "If it's okay. I'm pretty fuckin' tired, now."

"It's cool," Jen says, and tries to sound as casual about that as he'd like to be. "You, uh. Wanna borrow some clothes, or...?"

Jared laughs softly. "Right. Because I feel like going around set tomorrow with my ass and ankles hanging out of your tiny little Wranglers."

Jen thumps him in the chest, no power behind it. Just to make the point. "Shut up."

"You shut up."

They lay there for a minute more, then grudgingly get up. Jen kicks off his jeans and boxers; they peel back the covers, turn off the lights and crawl back in.


Jen wakes up in the morning with the sheets at his waist and a big lump of a human furnace between his legs, licking and softly biting at Jen's balls. The shocked breath he takes in is so deep that he just holds it at its zenith. He had been planning to use that breath to talk, to say something to the effect of "Jesus Christ, Jared, don't stop," but again: zenith. All he can do is tie his fingers into knots with the sheets and pull his knees as far apart as they'll go.

That mouth is boiling him, searing him. Lashes of tongue like rips in his defenses; in the sheer state between waking and dreaming, Jen's been ambushed, and the nigh-unbearable pleasure is slowly but surely tearing him down. He bucks his hips, can't help it.

The covers flip back with one long arm and Jared's revealed, laying over the foot of the bed. Their combined height means Jared can rest his belly on the mattress while his knees touch the floor. Jen's brain takes that straight to "kneeling", and his eyes snap shut while a low, frantic moan slips from his throat. He's on fucking fire, his cock throbbing for some touch. "Jared," he says, praying and demanding and begging and insisting, and he moves up Jen's body like a river flow.

"I figured I owed you one," Jared breathes, his lips glancing over the heated skin, and Jen doesn't bother to argue, because the hell with that.

Then Jared's hot mouth opens over him and he's not thinking. He's sure as hell not thinking.

Jared slides slowly up and down, then he pauses, pulls a little with his tongue and his lips, licks the soft skin and then dives back into it. He does it like he does everything - planned, but with abandon. Jensen will not last five fucking seconds under this assault, and he reaches down to grip his own balls and pull them gently, buy himself some time. Jared pulls back and off, looking at him quizzically, but when he catches sight of what's going on...

Oh, damn him. Damn him.

The corners of his mouth quirk up, mischief sparks in his eyes, and he plants one wide hand in the middle of Jen's chest and literally shoves him backward. "You're such a pussy," he whispers, head descending again.

It's in Jen's head to smack him for that, but then Jared simply whitewashes the inside of Jen's skull, and he can hear himself groaning helplessly. "Jared, Jared, oh, God..."

Jared pulls up with a wet, slipping sound. "I get that all the time," he says, and Jen can hear the smirk in his voice as his hand wraps around Jen's spit slick cock and starts stroking roughly.

Jen comes almost instantly, a flurry of short hip-jerks and sharp cries, spilling into Jared's hand.

"I can't, I can't believe it," Jen gasps on his way down. "I haven't been, that fast, since I was a teenager."

Jared just laughs at him, gently, and pats his thigh. "Don't worry, pops. I'm sure your heart can handle it. Do you want me to get your nitro?"

Jen rolls his eyes and aims a half-hearted kick at Jared's side, which Jared takes with good humor. Then he slides himself out and up to the pillows, drawing the covers after him. Jen puts a hand on his chest, perfectly mimicking Jared's let's-take-this-to-the-next-step move from last night. He slides it down, over Jared's rib cage, heading for the hip. "You want me to...?"

Jared grabs his wrist and pulls it around to his back. "No, that's okay. We should be getting ready anyway. We gotta be on set at noon."

As if on cue, Jen's phone rings. He rolls on top of Jared to get it, making the younger man grunt and shove at him. Jen, class act that he is, haughtily ignores that. "Hello?"

"Jensen, hi, it's Eric. Do you know where Jared i- ow! Jeff, Jesus."

There is the muffled and somewhat irritated sound of Jeff's voice on Eric's end of the phone. Jared, who can pretty much hear Eric, as close as the phone is, meets Jen's confused expression with one of his own. "Eric?" Jen asks the silence.

"Yeah, yeah, Jensen. Okay, listen. I've been informed that we won't need you two until tomorrow. Take the day off. And if you see Jared, tell him, will you? He's not answering his ph- ow! Jeff, seriously!"

The phone clicks off, and Jen blinks at it, one eyebrow raised. "Huh."

"What?" Jared's looking up at him, insistently.

"Eric said we could take the day off."

Jared enters blink mode. "What? But we're shooting the Miami scenes today. The palm trees will only stay so-"

"I know," Jensen interrupts. They stare at each other for a second, and then Jen puts the phone down on the table and rolls off Jared, though not far. "Do you think he knows?"

Jared snorts. "Eric? Eric wouldn't know if there was an earthquake unless it had something to do with..." He trails off, looks at Jen with concern in his eyes.

"With his show," Jen finishes, equally unsettled.

Silence reigns for a moment more. The backs of Jen's fingers brush Jared's belly and the top of Jared's knee nudges up against Jen's shin.

"Well, Jeff was there," Jen finally puts in. "He sounded like he was stepping on Eric's foot every couple of minutes."

Jared laughs, a short bark of laughter that falls short of amused but lands past relieved. "Well, that's something. Jeff'll cover for us."

"Yeah," Jen agrees. He shifts his arm, and that makes his fingers brush over the sleek trail of hair that slips down Jared's middle. He smiles ruefully. "I wonder if he meant this. Jeff, I mean."

"You think?" Jared shifts a little closer, and Jen remembers getting the phone, and the press of Jared's chest against his. He wonders if that'd work, if he just lay on top of Jared and... and if so, if that'd be okay for Jared, too.

Then he feels like a moron for fantasizing about dry-humping. Stupid.

Jen ducks his head, like he always does when he's embarrassed. Jared pulls him into the comfortable position they went to sleep in - Jen's head under Jared's chin - but Jen's arm's going numb, so he pulls up and leans on his elbow, and they're face to face. "So," he says, because he's nothing if not a fair man, and because he'll be goddamned if he'll let Jared one-up him. "I believe I was asking if you wanted me to...?" He walks his fingers down Jared's body under the sheet, and Jared squirms.

"Cut it out," he laughs, batting at Jen's hand. He's ticklish, and he hates for people to know - Jen figured it out in the first two weeks they knew each other.

Jen just grins and keeps going, dragging light fingernails over Jared's sides. "Gonna do something about it? Huh?"

Jared bites his bottom lip and gets that determined look on his face as he launches himself up, wrestling Jen's shoulders into the mattress. Jen twists and squirms, but Jared swings a leg over his thighs and pins him down, and Jen kind of forgets what move counters that. "Um..."

Jared blushes, but keeps his hands firm. "I'm not letting you go until you promise not to tickle me."

Jen grins up at him. "I promise not to tickle you."

"For the whole day," Jared squints, suspiciously. They both grew up with brothers, they both know the rules.

Jen rolls his eyes again, but he's still smirking. "For the day," he agrees, and Jared eases his grip.

He does not, however, move.

He's lined up just about right for what Jen had been thinking earlier, and Jen can feel the heavy, hard weight of his cock pressing between their stomachs. Experimentally, he shifts against it, and watches Jared's quick intake of breath with a smile.

"So," Jared says, opening his eyes. "I guess we're kind of..."

Jen pauses. "Tell me you're gonna say pudding."

Jared laughs, but it's short-lived. "I wasn't, no."

"Oh."

Jared hurries on, the words bubbling up out of him like a hot spring. That, too, is so familiar it twists something in Jen's heart. "I was gonna say 'gay', or maybe 'not 100% Kinsey zeroes'. But I could say pudding, if you want."

Jen sighs and looks at his dresser, across the room. Safe space. "Yeah," he agrees. "I guess we are."

Jared pauses at that, and then rolls away from him, onto his back on his side of the bed. He rubs a hand through his hair; Jen can see it out of the corner of his eye. Silence stretches, and Jen hears him start about three or four different sentences, only to axe them before they make it out his mouth - a fucking miracle, that.

Finally, Jen just turns toward him, carefully maintaining about a foot's space between them, so he can't be misconstrued. "Listen," he begins, cautiously. "This didn't happen with a lot of thinking, but we weren't drunk. Or drugged. Or real tired or hypothermic or anything that'd screw with our heads. It just... happened. And I don't think it'd ever have happened with anyone but you, not for me. And I don't think it ever will."

He's got Jared's attention, sharp features and sharp eyes. "I can't explain it," he says, in a slow and cautious tone, like he's crossing a minefield. "But when I met you, I felt something different. You were... I could see you. Better than I could see other people. I figured, okay, he's from Texas, he's an actor, we have a lot in common, but..."

"I know you," Jensen finishes, eyes locked to his. "You're not just another guy."

They stare at each other questioningly for about four full seconds, trying to intuit the right words for what's between them.

And then, in perfect tandem, they both suddenly feel like the world's biggest dorks. Jen feels it curl self-consciously in his stomach and sees a sour expression he's sure matches his own spread over Jared's face.

"God," Jen mutters. "Who are we?"

"Paging Dr. Phil," Jared calls, cuttingly, and Jen snorts with laughter. "Serious Developmental Issues on aisle nine," Jared says, getting into the joke.

"Man, I don't think Doctor Phil's gonna cut it," Jen snickers, and Jared laughs.

"Yeah, we might have to call in Doctor Ruth on this one."

They both howl, mocking themselves relentlessly. "Freud!"

"Maybe just a good bitchslap'd snap us out of it."

"You do it, you're a bitch."

"Oh, you are dead."

They roughhouse hard, like brothers, pulling hair and shoving and hitting with their shoulders behind it. Finally, Jensen's ring catches on Jared's chest, just above his nipple, and it starts to bleed. Jen falls on him like a total savage, all lips and hands and teeth, and Jared clasps his head in both hands and forces him down. Jen doesn't mind, because he was going there anyway. Jared bucks hard, and there's no questions this time about if they're experimenting or if they're just trying it out. They need it. They know it. And they take it against each other, hands too hard, teeth too rough. They know they're lucky. They're not wasting their chance.

It's a start.