Things About Chad That Jensen Doesn't Get And it would include, also in shiny (but smaller font), the following: - Chad's been best friends with Jared for fuck knows how many years and they've been through a lot, right, but Chad? Still has some of the single weirdest ideas when it comes to what Jared can or can't handle.
Which, of course, explains why Jensen's so crazy about him. And why no one knows about it. Because Jensen may be many things, but he's not completely stupid. *** "So, I was thinking..." Jensen glances up from his copy of 'Star' magazine and its fascinating article on the 'new Jen's slumber party' when Jared flops down, all long limbs and wide, ready grin, beside him on the front steps of the house where they're currently shooting. He and Jared are both dressed as cops for this scene, and it's about a billion degrees out, even in the shade, but even the oppressive, muggy-ass heat while wearing slacks and a jacket is better than listening to Kim ramble on about lighting. "Oh, Lord, here we go." Jared nudges him with a wide shoulder, bangs flopping in his eyes, teeth whiter than a porn star's. "Shut up, man, you just wish you had ideas in that pretty little head." "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Einstein. Dazzle me." "Alright, so you know Chad's coming up to visit tonight " "Really? Tonight?" Jensen puts a hand to his chin and rubs. "Because, you know, you haven't mentioned it. More than a thousand fucking times." Like Jensen hadn't been counting the days himself...just for an entirely different reason. "Blow me," Jared laughs, and nudges him again. This time, Jensen nudges back. Not that he thinks he's going to move Jared, but appearances need to be maintained. "You wish." "Uh...no." Jared looks vaguely horrified at the thought. "No, I really don't." "You know you dream about it." "That's just sick. It'd be like...fucking my brother or something." "Well, you're the one that mentioned it," Jensen points out, shading his eyes to stare across the street where the crafts services people are currently setting up shop. He hopes they'll have iced lattes. "Freak," Jared states, exaggerating the Texas. "Pervert." "Can we get back to Chad?" "Ahhh, now I get it." Jensen grins, wide and wicked. Fucking with Jared is his favorite pastime in Vancouver. "You're saving yourself for the boyfriend." "Chad?" Jared brays out a donkey-like laugh, no doubt startling any birds, rabbits, squirrels and possibly dogs nearby. "Are you kidding me? First off, that really would be like fucking my brother, and, second, man, he, like, pulls more pussy than James Bond." "And I've always had my theories about him and Q," Jensen muses, with another thoughtful chin rub. "You really did not just go there." "Oh yeah, I really did." "You're sick," Jared states, with something like glee in his voice. "Why you like me," Jensen replies. Jared rolls his eyes. "Anyway...Chad." "I keep telling you, man, I don't know him well enough yet to test him out for you," Jensen lies, with his best poker face. It helps that Jared totally sucks at poker. And bluffing. "Maybe on the third date. Besides, if he's your friend, he can't have very high standards." "You're my friend." "Exactly. So I'd know." Jared cuffs Jensen across the back of the head, and the blow Jensen pitches forward. He balances himself on the step below. "Look, can you pick him up at the airport or not?" Jared asks, ignoring Jensen's attempt at a glare. "Me? You want me to pick up your boyfriend?" Ah, Christ, irony was a bitch... "Not my boyfriend." "Dude's flying across the country to visit your lame ass and you're not even putting out?" Jensen shakes his head in what he very much hopes is a mournful expression. "That's just wrong, Padalecki. What kind of friend are you?" "The kind that doesn't fuck my, uh, oh, I dunno, male friends. Can you do it or not?" "Yeah, sure, why not," Jensen replies, holding up the one minute finger to the hovering P.A. "The Chadster and I can bond over what a prick tease you are while you're giving it to dear Sandy." "You do that." Jared stands, stretching his arms to the sky, and Jensen has to bite back the laugh when the P.A. just stops in her tracks and stares. Jared, typically, doesn't even notice. Must be nice to be that oblivious all the damn time. "Meet me and Sandy at Mexico Mel's?" "Good times," Jensen replies, and gives the thumbs up. *** Chad's flight is late. Not that Jensen is surprised by this. Trust Chad to make him wait. Jensen wastes time breaking his all-time high score on 'Bejeweled' on his cell and wondering what sort of mood Chad'll be in by the time the plane lands. The thing with Chad is that it could go any number of a different ways. And would probably change on a dime. But it doesn't stop Jensen from starting shit at the first available opportunity. It's just who they are. "Where's J?" Chad asks the second he gets to baggage claim, looking around when he catches sight of Jensen. Chad's in jeans, Birks and a bright orange tee with a picture of a tricycle on it that reads 'That's How I Roll'. His overlarge aviators hide his eyes, despite the fact that its nighttime, and he has stubble that looks like it might just decide to declare its independence. Ladies and Gentlemen, Chad Michael Murray, King of the Dorks. "What, no, hi, I've missed you, bitch, no hug?" Jensen grins, pushing himself off his pillar. Chad balls up a fist and taps Jensen's shoulder. "Hi, I've missed you, bitch, where's J?" "So, no on the hug, then." "Jen..." Jensen throws his hands up in laughing surrender and takes two steps back. "He sent me to fetch. He and Sandy are meeting us later." "Are they?" Chad's frown smoothes into a smirk, and he pushes his shades on top of his head. The blue of them slams into Jensen like a suckerpunch. "Hell, man, why didn't you say so." "Just did." Jensen glances at Chad's overnight bag. "That all you got?" "All I got." "Alright, let's, uh, roll." The sarcasm is lost on Chad. Typical. Chad matches Jensen stride for stride on the way out of the airport, shoulder bumping his companionably, and Jensen's grin stays with him as he stows Chad's gear in his car and they head towards Mexico Mel's, home of the famous Guadalupe Gringos cover band and Twofer Tequila Tuesdays. It hadn't taken Jensen and Jared a week in Vancouver to declare the bar their favorite place to hang after filming and on rare nights off. "You've told him, haven't you?" he says, glancing at Chad, strong profile highlighted by the headlights from passing cars. "That's why he sent me to come get you. Isn't it?" "Uh, no, duh," Chad replies with a derisive snort. "Like he'd believe me anyway, even if we fucked on his bed and made him sleep in the wet spot. This is J we're talking about, what the fuck is wrong with you." "Thought you two told each other everything." "What are we, 13-year-old girls?" "Nah, but you do date them..." Chad reaches behind the seat to smack Jensen on back of the head. "Shut the fuck up and drive." "Aw, honey, does that love tap mean you missed me?" Jensen catches Chad's lips twitching in a smile out of the corner of his eye. "Only thing I missed was your mouth." When Jensen glances over again, his gaze drops to Chad's lap. "That it, huh, just my mouth?" Chad's hand drops to his zipper, toying with it. Jensen swallows, mouth suddenly dry. "What, you want a list?" Chad asks, voice dropping an octave. "Maybe I'm feeling fragile...or emotionally vulnerable or something?" He's proud of the even quality to his voice. "Or maybe you just like it when I talk dirty to you." Jensen's shrug fools neither of them. "Or, y'know, maybe I just like it when you talk dirty to me." This time, Chad's smirk sends a lightning bolt of heat straight to Jensen's crotch. "Pull over." "Your agent would have a field day..." "So would yours. Pull the fuck over." It's another mile before Jensen finds an exit that looks somewhat secluded. He pulls over on the shoulder of the road, tires crunching over gravel, and Chad barely waits for Jensen to yank on the emergency brake before he jerks Jensen towards him. Their mouths meet in a fast, messy slide, Jensen's teeth catching Chad's lower lip, tearing the skin. Chad pulls back, wincing, touching his fingers to the welt. "Ow. Fucker." Jensen just manages to turn his laugh into a cough against Chad's shoulder. "Yeah, uh, sorry." "Shut up and come here." Jensen half-crawls onto Chad's lap, the car far too small to really move at all, but at least he's got enough room to press his thighs on either side of Chad's. The top of his head scrapes the roof, and he ducks, Chad's lips teasing at the corners of his. This kiss is barely there, soft, at odds with Chad's hands unbuckling Jensen's belt, sliding down the zipper with a soft rasp. "Nice..." Chad murmurs, stubble burning Jensen's skin as the tips of his fingers trail over the head of Jensen's cock. "Chad..." Chad, thank Christ, knows how to take a hint. His fingers slide back, under worn denim, and he teases at Jensen's hole, tongue flickering to lick into Jensen's mouth. "Wanna know what I thought about on the flight?" "Maybe..." Jensen's breath catches on a low moan when one of Chad's fingernails scrapes just inside him. "Yesssss..." "Suck on these for me." Chad's eyes are dark, pupils dilated when he lifts his other hand, watching with lust and greed as his fingers disappear into Jensen's eager mouth. "Get 'em good and wet so I can fuck your ass." Jensen groans again, laving spittle to the knuckles, sucking hard and fast and dirty. Chad's head thumps back on the seat. He grinds up as Jensen grinds down, both of them eagerly seeking friction. "Definitely thought about your mouth on me..." Jensen pops Chad's fingers out with a last wet slurp, and presses his forehead to Chad's, need making his voice rough, dangerous. "Do it already..." "Bossy," Chad growls, but he slides his hand under Jensen's waistband, pushing both fingers in at once. Jensen's eyes cross, then water, at the abrupt stretch, and he rocks back, awkwardly riding Chad's hand. His ass is already on fire Chad's fingers aren't nearly wet enough for as long as it's been but he welcomes the burn. "Move, c'mon..." he pants. The windows are fogged up, there's zero oxygen in the car, and Jensen's knees are bent to the point where he thinks he may not walk again, but, in the grand scheme of things, he could care less. Chad grunts out something unintelligible and starts to move his fingers, scissoring and flexing, sliding deeper with each twist, and their mouths meet again. Jensen can taste stale coffee and the bitterness of some sort of nut, and he manages a moan, pushing back on Chad's hand, pushes his tongue in Chad's mouth. Jesusfucking... Jensen pushes forward again, the head of his cock rubbing on his inseam, and he comes in three jerking spurts, eyes screwed shut, ass full of Chad's fingers, moan trapped between their lips. Chad's laughter is soft, wraps around Jensen like a blanket, as he pets Jensen's back with his free hand, soothing and murmuring to him between soft kisses, easing him down. "Guess you did miss me," Chad remarks, and Jensen has just enough energy left to softly head-butt Chad's chin before dropping his head to Chad's shoulder. *** "Y'all're late," Jared says by way of greeting, when they finally show up at Mexico Mel's. It's not Tuesday, but the joint is jumping the DJ is spinning salsa music, the dance floor is crowded with hot babes in tube-tops and hot pants, and the tequila is flowing like water. Jared's eyes are already glassy and he sways when he catches Chad in a bear hug, lifting him clean off the floor. "Had to drop my stuff off...Jesus, J, put me down before you break something," Chad laughs, and shoves at Jared's shoulders until he's back on the ground. Jared turns, smile still pasted on, and gives Jensen the exact same treatment. Like they hadn't just spent 14 long-ass hours together. "You two " Jared points for emphasis, almost knocking Chad's nose, "- need shots." "Wouldn't say no," Jensen grins. When Jared turns to flag down a cocktail waitress, Chad catches Jensen's eyes and shakes his head. "Jared Padalecki, wonder drunk," Chad mutters in Jensen's ear, then straightens, smiling brightly when Jared turns back around. "Where's your girl?" Jared waves a hand in the general direction of the crowded dance floor. "Out there...somewhere. Y'know, doing her...thang." Sandy's thing (which makes Jared the luckiest sonofabitch that Jensen knows) usually tended to involve a couple of beers and a complete lack of inhibitions. He and Chad both lean on the table, watching as Sandy and some nameless, stacked blonde chick in a tiny skirt and an even tinier top grind against each other. Sandy, by some miracle known only to God and Victoria's Secret, is managing to stay inside her bra and mid-riff baring shirt. The other girl's not quite so lucky. Which just proved Jensen's long-held belief that every woman is a lesbian with enough liquor in her. And thank the sweet baby Jesus for it. "I love it when your girl puts on a free show," Chad declares, reverence in his voice, eyes glued to the sight. Jared leans in beside them. Jensen can smell the tequila on his breath. "Fuck, man, y'think...you love it..." When Jared points to the dance floor again, he wobbles, resting heavily against Chad, who just shrugs him off. "I'm th' one that gets...gets to...take her home and tap that ass." Chad passes Jensen's tequila shot to him, and clinks their glasses together. Jensen's eyes water at the burn. Chad tosses his back like a pro. "Thanks, J," Chad says, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, "but as hot as your girl is, I don't need to think about your hairy ass bumping hers." Jared scoffs, throwing an arm across Chad's shoulders. "You're totally hard for my hairy ass." Chad squeezes Jensen's knee under the table, and grins up at Jared. "Is that what you tell yourself when you beat off?" Jensen jerks an elbow into Chad's ribs, and dodges the return blow. "Uh, guys, hand on titty here..." They all three stare, then let out lustful moans when Sandy and the blonde share a slow, open-mouthed kiss, Sandy's palm moving in small circles over the blonde's left breast. Jensen's pretty damn sure he's not the only one sporting wood. "I have no idea why you never let her take one of these chicks home," Chad remarks with a sad shake of his head. "You know why," Jared replies, passing down the new shots without spilling a drop. The dexterity of the truly drunk. "I mean, dude, what's the point in the threesome unless the two girls are muff-diving each other?" "Good point," Chad says, and nods. "Hey, remember that time when..." Jensen elbows Chad's ribs again. "No nostalgia trips tonight, Jesus, you two are worse than my parents." "I bet your parents were never at the Playboy mansion when " Jensen claps a hand over Chad's mouth. Chad just smirks and licks Jensen's palm. *** Jensen slides his thumb alongside his tongue as he curls it, pressing deep into Chad's ass, the jab quick, sharp, pointed. Chad's moan vibrates throughout his entire body, and he drops to his elbows, back arched, hips pushed out, ass splayed wide open for every slip and thrust of Jensen's tongue. The sheets are a tangled pile at the foot of the bed, both of them are slippery with sweat and lube, and Chad is honestly making the sweetest fucking sounds. After another hour or so watching the Sandy Show and giving Jared a hard time and doing even more shots, they'd left, Jensen supposedly dropping Chad off at his hotel room. They'd barely made it into Jensen's bedroom before shirts had been flung off, the heavy sound of zippers rasping and harsh breathing filling the air, greedy hands filling themselves with every inch of available skin. "Mmmm..." Jensen hums, smirking as his thumb slips inside, and Chad jerks, hips rocking back with the next stab of Jensen's tongue. "That's it," he murmurs, and turns his head for a quick bite. "Poke that ass out for me, baby..." Chad groans, then lunges back, gripping one of Jensen's pillows with clenched fists. "Did you just...Jesusfuck Jen...call me baby?" Jensen slides his forefinger alongside his thumb, twisting and rubbing, smirking when Chad's head drops between his arms. "Are you seriously trying to argue with me when I have my tongue up your ass?" "Uh...no..." "Good." Jensen makes Chad beg after that, just to put things on a more even footing, but when he reaches for the lube, it skitters just out of his hands, and Chad twists, making a grab for it. They wind up grappling and wrestling, falling to the floor in a pile of limbs and grunts, and when Jensen finally wins the battle, they fuck just like that, on the carpet, lube spilling everywhere, Chad biting at his neck, urging him on as he slams forward with sharp, brutal thrusts. They break a lamp and one of the legs of Jensen's nightstand on the next round. Jensen considers the sex well worth it. But Chad still kicks his ass later that night at MotoGP. *** Jensen still doesn't quite get Chad, and the list of things he doesn't get grows longer just about every time they talk, let alone when they're in the same place. Chad's still a neurotic geek with a chip on his shoulder the size of the damn San Antone and issues that would make Dr. Phil clap his hands in glee. And he still exasperates Jensen more often than anything else. But Jensen also has another list a list he shares with no one a list that chronicles other things. Like the curve of Chad's hip when Jensen runs light fingers over it. And the way that Chad hates to cuddle after sex, but'll totally do it while sprawled back with a beer watching 'Simpsons' reruns. And how Chad loves to cook, even if he does like to sing, loudly and off-key, while doing it. And the way Chad tastes first thing in the morning, all sleep-warm and tousled and soft. Jensen would never let this list get out, of course. Because, after all, appearances must be maintained. Especially if you're the type of guy that's crazy about a guy like Chad.
|