Smoke & Lightning, Heavy Metal Thunder [22/?]
Master post.
There are manips here.
Title: Smoke And Lightning, Heavy Metal Thunder (22/?)
Authors: bloody_adorable and eviltwin
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki.
Rating: PG to adult.
Wordcount: 4,217
Summary: AU. Jared's a classic case of rich kid gone wrong, whose only sense of family comes from his motorbike, the guy he rents a garage from to live in and the precinct cops who know his face better than most already. Jensen's a hard-working student whose family are helping push him towards great things. What happens when their two worlds collide, and will Jared's troublesome nature be too much for Jensen to handle?
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sprawled out on his stomach, Jared snored into his pillow, his nose gently pressed to the side. Jensen watched him from his makeshift "desk" that he had put together; a mishmash of old milk crates, a giant cable spool, and a wooden plank from God only knew what. He smiled as he watched his lover, almost giggling to himself when he said those two words over again in his head. My lover. The covers had been kicked down far enough to barely cover Jared's naked form, had crept down to show the rise of his backside. Sunlight pooled at the small of his back, his spinal column shadowed and curving up to his shoulders.
Home. It was fucking corny, but Jensen had a sense of complete home. That's the only way he could explain it. Jared was his home and he didn't want to be anywhere else, ever again.
Pushing his reading glasses further up on his nose, Jensen looked back over at his computer. He'd forgotten about his reading glasses, truth be known, and it felt weird to be wearing them again. Still, it would save him from a headache and Jared had already told him that they were going out for lunch, so he wanted to be clear-headed when that time came.
He must have lost track of time and space, because he was suddenly startled when he heard Jared's voice speaking to him.
"Morning, Professor," he said. "Tell me you're not already dressed for today."
Jensen almost tried to duck out of the kiss pressed to the back of his neck, his heart pounding from the start. "Hey, yeah, I got up early," he said. He motioned to the laptop, shutting it down for the time being. "Sorry, I got caught up in stuff on here." He smiled at Jared, who was wrapped waist-down in the afghan that had been at the foot of the bed.
"You weren't looking at porn, were you? And if you were, how come you didn't wake me up?"
Jensen laughed, taking his glasses off. "You're my porn," he teased. "I got looking up some stuff for that report on Mao Tse-tung I have to do."
Walking stiffly, Jared moved towards the ladder. "Stupid fucking name, anyway."
Chuckling again, Jensen watched him head into the house to get ready for the day. "I like your dress!" he called.
Jared only grunted in return.
In the chair again. His heart pounded with excitement and adrenaline, making him feel warm and light-headed. The sound of the needle buzzing was something he was used to now. The feel of it piercing his skin wasn't nearly as bad as the first time. There was a twinge of pain here and there, but overall there was just a burning sensation. The tattoo would take a long time, and Eric had already made a deal with Jared for payment.
"That kid could get the goddamn Titanic running again," Eric said as he wiped away a smear of blood on Jensen's arm. "I got a couple old Harleys in the back. Jay's gonna fix them up nice, aren't ya, kid?"
Jared chuckled, sitting at Jensen's head in a wheeled chair. "You got it, Eric."
"Okay, but let me pay you a little something," Jensen offered.
"You got it," Eric nodded. "Five thousand dollars oughta do 'er."
For a moment, Jensen looked terrified. He glanced down at the tattoo and then back over at Eric. "Would two hundred dollars suffice?"
“Fucking fantastic," he nodded without a smile.
Jared leaned in closer to Jensen's ear. "He's fucking with you, Jen," he said softly. "He says that to everyone."
"I know." But he hadn't known, and he felt his panic subsiding.
He hadn't been totally sure what he wanted to start off his sleeve tattoo. Jared had suggested a number of things, but nothing he saw was really anything he wanted on his body for the rest of his life. Finally, he'd seen something that Eric had just been drawing to put up as a possible design. The picture was of a koi fish, blackish-blue with all sorts of colors around it. There were a few old-art asian faces, bright blue splashes of water, green leaves, shading and lines of black. Not too much color to overwhelm, understated as a matter of fact, but gorgeous regardless. Jensen was instantly drawn to it.
"It fits," Jared had said. "You're a fish."
Jensen had chuckled at that and asked Eric if he would mind taking it down from the wall, even though it had just been put up. Eric gladly obliged.
"You fellas will be my walking works of art," he'd smiled.
Jensen had liked that idea.
It would take more than one day to finish the tattoo, but Eric started it. The black outlines were first. Easier that way. Wincing, Jensen watched him work, taking calm, deep and even breaths. Jared was to his left, watching Eric too. He knew his way around the place, enough so that if Eric needed something, Jared could pop up and get it for him.
The tattoo would go all the way from Jensen's shoulder, down to his wrist. He'd already removed his watch, as well as his shirt, and had commissioned Eric for however long it took to finish the outline.
"How long will this take, the whole thing?" Jensen asked, eyes downcast as he watched Eric close up a scale line on the fish.
"Depends on how fast you heal," he answered. "Mind if I ask why the fish?"
Jensen smiled and looked at him. "I'm on the swim team," he said. "I don't know. It just seemed to click when I saw it."
"That's how they work," he replied, concentrating. "Jared, run in the back and get some more paper towels for me, kid."
"Yep."
In a flash, Jared was gone. He came back a few seconds later with a roll of paper towels, ripping open the plastic before handing them over to Eric. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared saw movement past the storefront. He turned and smiled when he saw a gorgeous brunette slinking by. "Hey," he told Jensen. "I'll be right back." He gave Jensen a quick kiss, which momentarily had Jensen tensing up since it was done in front of Eric, and then was off.
Jensen watched from his seat as Jared reached out to a very tall, beautiful woman with either a very expensive wig, or one hell of a good hairdresser. She smiled brightly when she saw him and opened her arms wide. Jared leaned down just slightly to wrap his arms around her, going so far as to pick her up off the ground. She kicked back one foot, and he saw she was wearing an expensive pair of stilletto heels. She placed a kiss on Jared's cheek and touched his face rather tenderly.
"Kid, you gonna let me do my job?"
"What?" Jensen asked, looking back over to Eric. He had leaned to the side so far in the chair that he had moved away from the tattoo artist. "Oh. Sorry."
Eric chuckled. "You ain't got nothin' to worry about, son," he said. "That boy's sold on you."
He smiled at Eric, liking that the man wasn't as homophobic as a lot of guys tended to be. Especially rough and tumble biker tattoo guys. Manly men, and all that shit.
Back inside the building, Jared whooped loudly and clapped his hands together. "Who wants lunch?" he asked. "I'm going to walk down to the Jade."
Chinese actually sounded pretty damn good to Jensen. "I'll pass," he said, regardless. "How'm I going to eat like this?"
Jared leaned into the room, bungeed by his own arms, fingers clutching at the doorjamb. "Maybe I'll feed you," he returned with a wink.
Eric grunted at that. "You say anything about getting Cream of Sum Yung Gi, and I'm going to hurl my Swiss Army at you."
Jared laughed loudly, followed by Jensen, and stepped into the room. He leaned down and gave Eric a big, noisy kiss on the cheek. "You want me and you know it."
Eric used the back of his wrist and arm to wipe off the kiss. "I want my bikes fixed," he replied. "Not your sorry, saggy ass."
"My ass isn't saggy!" he declared. "Is it Jen?"
"It's really fucking important to your future that you not share that information with me."
He wasn't angry. Jensen could tell by the sparkle in the older man's eye, how much he really did adore Jared. They'd become close friends over the years, and they thought a lot of each other. Before Jensen could really tell Jared yes or no for lunch, the man was off, leather jacket open to the breeze that was increasingly growing colder as the days passed. He saw no sign of the woman that had been hanging off of Jared only moments ago.
By the time he got back, Jensen was laying down on a bed something like an exam table at a doctor's office. His arm was above his head, and Eric was following his blue guidelines, blackening them. The underside of the arm was more tender, and occasionally made Jensen growl out an impatient sigh of pain.
"Sorry, kid," Eric said. "We'll take a break here shortly."
"Okay." Jensen found that under his arm bled more than the top of his arm, which was weird, but it did. He turned his head and watched Jared plop down in his chair again, bags and cardboard cartons of food accompanying him. He'd already dropped off a tin container of beef and broccoli to the woman at the front desk, as well as a parchment-wrapped egg roll. No other customers were in the store, and if they were, the other tattooist, Henry, could tend to them. Eric was all theirs.
"I got you the shrimp wontons you like," Jared told Jensen, who immediately raised his free hand, asking for one of the fried goodies. Jared handed him one and then dug into the bag again. "Steamed dumplings for the good sir," he continued, setting the tin container down on Eric's nearby table.
"Mucho thanks."
"General Tso's chicken for me," he said. "There's a bunch of other shit in the bag. Help yourselves. You too, Candy!"
The receptionist smiled and waved a tattooed hand at him. "Thank you, sweetie!"
"Jay?"
He spied over at Jensen as he dug into his meal. "Hm?"
Eric finished up his last line, wiped away the blood and mumbled to Jensen that they could break now.
Jensen sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Who was that lady you talked to?"
Jared pointed to the receptionist. "Candy," he said.
"No, the other one."
"What other one?"
Eric interrupted, speaking around a half-eaten potsticker. "I told him you were crazy about him," he said, "that he didn't have to worry. Watch your arm, kid, you're bleedin'."
Jensen looked at Eric like he was a traitor, eyes wide with a mental shut UP. He took a piece of paper towel that was offered to him and held it between the underside of his arm and his chest.
"Oh, Trevor?" Jared asked, finally understanding.
"No, the woman."
"Yeah, that's one of Jeff's employees."
Jensen blinked at him, confused. "No, the woman you hugged outside."
"Yeah, he's a dry-waller."
"That was a man?"
“In a dress," Eric nodded.
"A fantastic fucking dress," Jared smiled.
Jensen was sure they were having him on. "You're telling me that beautiful woman that just flirted with you, was a man? In a dress?"
Jared nodded, belching from his meal and then continuing on with eating. "Trevor McAllister," he said. "And he wasn't flirting. Well, he was. But we always flirt. Nothing comes of it. Oh, and welcome to the scary future, Jensen."
"Shut up," he half-smiled. He knew that sometimes men dressed up like that, but he'd never really met someone that did that. Although, by the looks of Trevor, he very well could have and just never known it.
"Trevor and Baby Jay, as he calls Jared," Eric explained, "they've known each other for...oh, for years. About as long as I've known you, right?"
"A little before that, yeah," he agreed.
"See kid?" Eric beamed, downing another steamed wonton. "You got nothin' to worry about. Jared's head over heels."
"Ass over tits," Jared said, grinning.
"That's all I have to do?"
He nodded. "That's all."
"I don't have to hurt anyone?"
Jared shook his head, eyes shaded by sunglasses even though the bar was dimly lit. "I'd prefer it if you didn't."
"Good. Because I'm not into some of that really kinky stuff."
Jared laughed, watching Trevor stand from the small, private table. Trevor was wearing a slinky red sequined dress that fit perfectly to his slight frame. His hair was real, not a wig like some of the other transvestites. The locks were curly, spiraling down his shoulders when they weren't tied back in an elegant knot. He wore slightly understated make-up, red nail polish to match the dress, and high, strappy heels. He was stunning, and if Jared had been into that, he probably would have been all over Trevor. He and the forty-something transvestite had been friends for so long that Jared couldn't remember a time without him. He was a great help in Jared's developing teen years, when he realized that some men, just as some women, were highly attractive. They had never taken their relationship further than friendship, however, regardless of the constant flirting they did with each other.
"Thank you, Trev," Jared smiled, watching Trevor start to move away from the table.
"Anything for you, baby Jay," he returned, speaking over his shoulder in a soft voice.
"You look beautiful, baby," he winked at him.
"I know, sugar," he smiled back.
Jared knew he could trust Trevor. And Trevor had no indentifying body marks, like Jared's tattoos. Sitting at the table, he watched Trevor saunter over to the bar. Jared took a swig of his beer and waited for the scene to unfold before him. Trevor -- Belinda, when he was out on a night like this, or when he was doing a Drag Queen show -- situated himself upon a barstool, using all of his assets to get the attention of the youn man that lounged nearby. Sure enough, those long legs of his worked like a charm.
Doug was clearly underage, but his family owned so much of the city that the bartender didn't bother with him. After all, what Dougie wants, Dougie gets. That had been his father's motto from day one, and it had rung true for the past eighteen years. Carrying an opened bottle of beer, Doug traversed around the bar, leaving his lackies behind. He had the walk of a man who was over confident, sly. Jared gritted his teeth as he watched him, annoyed by just the man's presence. Stretching out his long legs, Jared propped one foot up on the chair to his right and settled in to watch the show.
This asshole wasn't going to go back after Jensen. Not if he could help it.
"You sure Jared doesn't mind?"
Jensen shrugged his shoulders, sitting yoga-style on the sofa. "Nah," he told Chris, watching the man shed his jacket and drape it over a stack of boxes.
"Where is he, anyway?" Chris asked, picking up the six-pack of beer he'd brought, carrying it over to the sofa.
Jensen shrugged again. "Out," he answered. "He said he had some stuff to do, that we should just go ahead with the movie."
Taking one of the beers out of the cardboard crate, Chris eyed him. "You guys didn't have a fight, did you?"
Jensen shook his head, spying down at the movie case. "No," he said. "He just kind of does this every now and then. We're not joined at the hip, he needs his own time too."
"Could've fooled me," he chuckled.
"Besides, wise-ass," Jensen continued. "I'd like to spend some time with my best friend." He held out his hand, waiting for Chris to give him a bottle.
Raising an eyebrow, Chris handed him one of the beers. His father had gotten them for him, figuring Chris was close enough to a man, and he could make wise enough decisions about alcohol. They wouldn't over-do it like they had the night of the party. Both of them had had hangovers from hell, not something they were ready to repeat just yet. "Out of pity?" he asked.
Jensen frowned, twisting the cap off the beer. "Okay, so you heard about the pity-friendship thing I said," he sighed.
Chris flopped down on the sofa next to Jensen, gazing over at him, his smile gone. "Yeah, I heard about it," he returned. "Your dad made it a point that I found out. And it really hurt my feelings, Jen."
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I just assumed."
"Yeah, you know what happens when you assume."
"You make an ass..."
"...out of you and me," Chris nodded, speaking in tandem with Jensen. He slapped a hand onto Jensen's knee, shaking him gently. "I'm not usually a proud guy, Jen," he continued, "but I like to think I'm an excellent judge of character. I'm your friend because I like you, not because I pity you. You mean a lot to me."
Jensen stared over at him, hazel-green eyes glittering in the low light of the garage. In a teasing motion, he leaned into Chris, heading straight for the other man's lips. He was rewarded with a palm to his face, shoving him backwards, and Chris calling him a loser. He laughed and sat up straight again, taking a good swallow from his beer.
"And what the hell is this?" Chris asked, reaching in front of Jensen to push the man's T-shirt sleeve aside.
"Something I'm having done."
Chris laughed aloud, leaning back in his seat and raising his beer bottle to his lips. "Your father would have a fucking fit."
Jensen laughed too. "I know," he agreed. "I kind of want to show him just to see the look on his face."
Chris mocked Alan, dropping his jaw and widening his eyes as much as he could. His best dumbfounded, shocked, stunned expression. "Jensen Ross! What is the goddamned meaning of this?"
"Fuck, don't! He actually would kill me, wouldn't he?"
"Yeah," Chris said, patting Jensen's shoulder. "Probably."
By eleven o'clock, Doug was drunk enough to be unsteady on his feet, his speech slurred, and his eyes blinking independently from one another. He was leaning in closer and closer to Trevor -- who was totally successful and convincing as Belinda. They had moved to a corner table to "get to know each other." All that really involved for Doug was kissing Belinda and pressing her hand to his groin. Trevor had been around long enough to know how to avoid getting groped and found out that he was just a man in a dress. He used all those tactics on Doug, to keep him under control.
The kisses were hot, Jared had to admit. As much as he hated Doug, the man had some skill, it seemed. But even though he was slightly turned on by Belinda and Doug, he couldn't help thinking of Jensen and how he would like to kiss him that way. How Jensen would taste when their tongues touched. What Jensen's throat smelled like after a night of drinking and making out. What the sheets and blankets would smell like after a night of grappling for dominance with each other.
Clearing his throat, Jared refocused his thoughts, deciding that he didn't particularly feel like walking out of the place with a raging hard-on. He shifted in his chair and adjusted his sunglasses, still shading his eyes. He saw Belinda look over at him as Doug dipped his head to kiss her neck. She nodded just slightly and whispered into Doug's ear. A few moments later, they were arising from the booth and heading to the bar to pay their tab. Doug paid for Belinda's tab as well as his own, keeping his arm slung around her waist the entire time. He nodded a quick goodbye to his friends, who still sat nearby like dogs waiting to be tossed a scrap or two. They watched him go and then turned back to their conversation. Apparently, this was a regular thing for them. Jared kept his head low as he watched Doug leave, holding Belinda close. Once the couple was out the front doors to the bar, he got up, threw a couple of bills onto a waitress's tray and followed them out the door.
Doug had a sporty car -- a new Dodge Charger, Jared noted. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight, believing that the new Chargers were shit compared to the old, classic cars. Just like a spoiled rich boy to think he knew what a real car was. Trevor was backed up against it now, working the Belinda vibe, as Doug kept him caged in his arms, pinned to the car.
Jared walked up behind Doug, not bothering to mask his footsteps. Doug was so into kissing Belinda, that he didn't even hear him. Jared stood motionless for a moment, watching through his glasses, and then reached over to tap Doug on the shoulder. The first time didn't work. The second time, Jared tapped harder, and finally got Doug to break the embrace.
Annoyed, Doug turned around. "What the fuck do you--"
Before he could finish his sentence, Jared punched the teen square on the jaw. Instantly, Doug's eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the parking lot floor. Trevor, unshaken by the incident, adjusted his bra strap and swished his hair off his shoulders. "About time," he said in a voice just slightly too low.
"Sorry," Jared smiled. "You looked like you were having a good time."
"Did I mention how much you're going to owe me for this?"
"Repeatedly."
The movie was loud, explosions, riots and automatic gunfire sounding through the garage. Jensen and Chris sat wide-eyed on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn that Jeffrey had made sitting between them. Four empty bottles of beer sat upon the old, scarred coffee table, and two more sat at their feet, still half-full. There was a wet sound, and blood gushed across the screen.
"Oh, ew!" Jensen cried out. "That was so gross."
"That was awesome," Chris laughed, his head rocking back against the sofa. His arm was draped along the back, too, lazing at Jensen's back in a friendly, used-to-each-other gesture. It didn't matter that once, when they were younger, Jensen had had a crush on Chris. They never let that make things awkward between them.
The door to the house opened and heavy-soled boots thumped loudly upon the hollow stairs. "Hey."
Jensen and Chris turned, finding Jared there, holding his motorcycle helmet, gloves peeking out the top. "Hey," they both said to him.
"Did you have fun?" Jensen asked.
Jared nodded. "Did I miss the movie?"
"It's about halfway through," Chris told him. "We started it late. Want us to start it over?"
"Nah," he answered. "Jen, your computer on upstairs?"
Jensen nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Why?"
"I gotta check something on eBay," he replied. "I'll be down in a little while."
"Okay."
They went back to the movie, oblivious to the fact that Jared carried his bike helmet up the ladder with him. He shed his leather jacket and sat down at the small area Jensen had used for his laptop, printer and scanner. Peeking behind him to make sure that Jensen and Chris were still engrossed in the movie, Jared pulled Jensen's Polaroid camera from inside the helmet. It was bulky and barely fit, but the gloves had done their job in covering what didn't fit into the helmet. He then reached into his back jean pocket and pulled out a number of Polaroids. He stashed Jensen's camera where it usually was, and flipped open the scanner. A few more clicks of the mouse, and the scanner whirred to life. He glanced back at Jensen and Chris one more time, but the sounds of the movie drowned out anything he was doing in the loft.
Turning his attention to the computer, Jared opened the pirated copy of a paint program he'd installed on Jensen's computer to help him with some graphic work for art class, and cropped out each one of the Polaroids. Trevor's face wasn't visible. The only one really identifiable was Doug, passed out on a ratty old motel comforter. The compromising positions Doug had been put in were perfect. In a few of them, he was touching Trevor, who was perfectly fine with having his hung-like-a-horse and fully erect cock photographed. Jared had to smile at the shots he'd gotten. This was going to be good assurance that the bully would leave Jensen alone. After he was done scanning the pictures, Jared saved the JPEGs and took them off the scanner. He pocketed them again and headed down to watch the rest of the movie with Jensen and Chris.
--TBC--
There are manips here.
Title: Smoke And Lightning, Heavy Metal Thunder (22/?)
Authors: bloody_adorable and eviltwin
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki.
Rating: PG to adult.
Wordcount: 4,217
Summary: AU. Jared's a classic case of rich kid gone wrong, whose only sense of family comes from his motorbike, the guy he rents a garage from to live in and the precinct cops who know his face better than most already. Jensen's a hard-working student whose family are helping push him towards great things. What happens when their two worlds collide, and will Jared's troublesome nature be too much for Jensen to handle?
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sprawled out on his stomach, Jared snored into his pillow, his nose gently pressed to the side. Jensen watched him from his makeshift "desk" that he had put together; a mishmash of old milk crates, a giant cable spool, and a wooden plank from God only knew what. He smiled as he watched his lover, almost giggling to himself when he said those two words over again in his head. My lover. The covers had been kicked down far enough to barely cover Jared's naked form, had crept down to show the rise of his backside. Sunlight pooled at the small of his back, his spinal column shadowed and curving up to his shoulders.
Home. It was fucking corny, but Jensen had a sense of complete home. That's the only way he could explain it. Jared was his home and he didn't want to be anywhere else, ever again.
Pushing his reading glasses further up on his nose, Jensen looked back over at his computer. He'd forgotten about his reading glasses, truth be known, and it felt weird to be wearing them again. Still, it would save him from a headache and Jared had already told him that they were going out for lunch, so he wanted to be clear-headed when that time came.
He must have lost track of time and space, because he was suddenly startled when he heard Jared's voice speaking to him.
"Morning, Professor," he said. "Tell me you're not already dressed for today."
Jensen almost tried to duck out of the kiss pressed to the back of his neck, his heart pounding from the start. "Hey, yeah, I got up early," he said. He motioned to the laptop, shutting it down for the time being. "Sorry, I got caught up in stuff on here." He smiled at Jared, who was wrapped waist-down in the afghan that had been at the foot of the bed.
"You weren't looking at porn, were you? And if you were, how come you didn't wake me up?"
Jensen laughed, taking his glasses off. "You're my porn," he teased. "I got looking up some stuff for that report on Mao Tse-tung I have to do."
Walking stiffly, Jared moved towards the ladder. "Stupid fucking name, anyway."
Chuckling again, Jensen watched him head into the house to get ready for the day. "I like your dress!" he called.
Jared only grunted in return.
In the chair again. His heart pounded with excitement and adrenaline, making him feel warm and light-headed. The sound of the needle buzzing was something he was used to now. The feel of it piercing his skin wasn't nearly as bad as the first time. There was a twinge of pain here and there, but overall there was just a burning sensation. The tattoo would take a long time, and Eric had already made a deal with Jared for payment.
"That kid could get the goddamn Titanic running again," Eric said as he wiped away a smear of blood on Jensen's arm. "I got a couple old Harleys in the back. Jay's gonna fix them up nice, aren't ya, kid?"
Jared chuckled, sitting at Jensen's head in a wheeled chair. "You got it, Eric."
"Okay, but let me pay you a little something," Jensen offered.
"You got it," Eric nodded. "Five thousand dollars oughta do 'er."
For a moment, Jensen looked terrified. He glanced down at the tattoo and then back over at Eric. "Would two hundred dollars suffice?"
“Fucking fantastic," he nodded without a smile.
Jared leaned in closer to Jensen's ear. "He's fucking with you, Jen," he said softly. "He says that to everyone."
"I know." But he hadn't known, and he felt his panic subsiding.
He hadn't been totally sure what he wanted to start off his sleeve tattoo. Jared had suggested a number of things, but nothing he saw was really anything he wanted on his body for the rest of his life. Finally, he'd seen something that Eric had just been drawing to put up as a possible design. The picture was of a koi fish, blackish-blue with all sorts of colors around it. There were a few old-art asian faces, bright blue splashes of water, green leaves, shading and lines of black. Not too much color to overwhelm, understated as a matter of fact, but gorgeous regardless. Jensen was instantly drawn to it.
"It fits," Jared had said. "You're a fish."
Jensen had chuckled at that and asked Eric if he would mind taking it down from the wall, even though it had just been put up. Eric gladly obliged.
"You fellas will be my walking works of art," he'd smiled.
Jensen had liked that idea.
It would take more than one day to finish the tattoo, but Eric started it. The black outlines were first. Easier that way. Wincing, Jensen watched him work, taking calm, deep and even breaths. Jared was to his left, watching Eric too. He knew his way around the place, enough so that if Eric needed something, Jared could pop up and get it for him.
The tattoo would go all the way from Jensen's shoulder, down to his wrist. He'd already removed his watch, as well as his shirt, and had commissioned Eric for however long it took to finish the outline.
"How long will this take, the whole thing?" Jensen asked, eyes downcast as he watched Eric close up a scale line on the fish.
"Depends on how fast you heal," he answered. "Mind if I ask why the fish?"
Jensen smiled and looked at him. "I'm on the swim team," he said. "I don't know. It just seemed to click when I saw it."
"That's how they work," he replied, concentrating. "Jared, run in the back and get some more paper towels for me, kid."
"Yep."
In a flash, Jared was gone. He came back a few seconds later with a roll of paper towels, ripping open the plastic before handing them over to Eric. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared saw movement past the storefront. He turned and smiled when he saw a gorgeous brunette slinking by. "Hey," he told Jensen. "I'll be right back." He gave Jensen a quick kiss, which momentarily had Jensen tensing up since it was done in front of Eric, and then was off.
Jensen watched from his seat as Jared reached out to a very tall, beautiful woman with either a very expensive wig, or one hell of a good hairdresser. She smiled brightly when she saw him and opened her arms wide. Jared leaned down just slightly to wrap his arms around her, going so far as to pick her up off the ground. She kicked back one foot, and he saw she was wearing an expensive pair of stilletto heels. She placed a kiss on Jared's cheek and touched his face rather tenderly.
"Kid, you gonna let me do my job?"
"What?" Jensen asked, looking back over to Eric. He had leaned to the side so far in the chair that he had moved away from the tattoo artist. "Oh. Sorry."
Eric chuckled. "You ain't got nothin' to worry about, son," he said. "That boy's sold on you."
He smiled at Eric, liking that the man wasn't as homophobic as a lot of guys tended to be. Especially rough and tumble biker tattoo guys. Manly men, and all that shit.
Back inside the building, Jared whooped loudly and clapped his hands together. "Who wants lunch?" he asked. "I'm going to walk down to the Jade."
Chinese actually sounded pretty damn good to Jensen. "I'll pass," he said, regardless. "How'm I going to eat like this?"
Jared leaned into the room, bungeed by his own arms, fingers clutching at the doorjamb. "Maybe I'll feed you," he returned with a wink.
Eric grunted at that. "You say anything about getting Cream of Sum Yung Gi, and I'm going to hurl my Swiss Army at you."
Jared laughed loudly, followed by Jensen, and stepped into the room. He leaned down and gave Eric a big, noisy kiss on the cheek. "You want me and you know it."
Eric used the back of his wrist and arm to wipe off the kiss. "I want my bikes fixed," he replied. "Not your sorry, saggy ass."
"My ass isn't saggy!" he declared. "Is it Jen?"
"It's really fucking important to your future that you not share that information with me."
He wasn't angry. Jensen could tell by the sparkle in the older man's eye, how much he really did adore Jared. They'd become close friends over the years, and they thought a lot of each other. Before Jensen could really tell Jared yes or no for lunch, the man was off, leather jacket open to the breeze that was increasingly growing colder as the days passed. He saw no sign of the woman that had been hanging off of Jared only moments ago.
By the time he got back, Jensen was laying down on a bed something like an exam table at a doctor's office. His arm was above his head, and Eric was following his blue guidelines, blackening them. The underside of the arm was more tender, and occasionally made Jensen growl out an impatient sigh of pain.
"Sorry, kid," Eric said. "We'll take a break here shortly."
"Okay." Jensen found that under his arm bled more than the top of his arm, which was weird, but it did. He turned his head and watched Jared plop down in his chair again, bags and cardboard cartons of food accompanying him. He'd already dropped off a tin container of beef and broccoli to the woman at the front desk, as well as a parchment-wrapped egg roll. No other customers were in the store, and if they were, the other tattooist, Henry, could tend to them. Eric was all theirs.
"I got you the shrimp wontons you like," Jared told Jensen, who immediately raised his free hand, asking for one of the fried goodies. Jared handed him one and then dug into the bag again. "Steamed dumplings for the good sir," he continued, setting the tin container down on Eric's nearby table.
"Mucho thanks."
"General Tso's chicken for me," he said. "There's a bunch of other shit in the bag. Help yourselves. You too, Candy!"
The receptionist smiled and waved a tattooed hand at him. "Thank you, sweetie!"
"Jay?"
He spied over at Jensen as he dug into his meal. "Hm?"
Eric finished up his last line, wiped away the blood and mumbled to Jensen that they could break now.
Jensen sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Who was that lady you talked to?"
Jared pointed to the receptionist. "Candy," he said.
"No, the other one."
"What other one?"
Eric interrupted, speaking around a half-eaten potsticker. "I told him you were crazy about him," he said, "that he didn't have to worry. Watch your arm, kid, you're bleedin'."
Jensen looked at Eric like he was a traitor, eyes wide with a mental shut UP. He took a piece of paper towel that was offered to him and held it between the underside of his arm and his chest.
"Oh, Trevor?" Jared asked, finally understanding.
"No, the woman."
"Yeah, that's one of Jeff's employees."
Jensen blinked at him, confused. "No, the woman you hugged outside."
"Yeah, he's a dry-waller."
"That was a man?"
“In a dress," Eric nodded.
"A fantastic fucking dress," Jared smiled.
Jensen was sure they were having him on. "You're telling me that beautiful woman that just flirted with you, was a man? In a dress?"
Jared nodded, belching from his meal and then continuing on with eating. "Trevor McAllister," he said. "And he wasn't flirting. Well, he was. But we always flirt. Nothing comes of it. Oh, and welcome to the scary future, Jensen."
"Shut up," he half-smiled. He knew that sometimes men dressed up like that, but he'd never really met someone that did that. Although, by the looks of Trevor, he very well could have and just never known it.
"Trevor and Baby Jay, as he calls Jared," Eric explained, "they've known each other for...oh, for years. About as long as I've known you, right?"
"A little before that, yeah," he agreed.
"See kid?" Eric beamed, downing another steamed wonton. "You got nothin' to worry about. Jared's head over heels."
"Ass over tits," Jared said, grinning.
"That's all I have to do?"
He nodded. "That's all."
"I don't have to hurt anyone?"
Jared shook his head, eyes shaded by sunglasses even though the bar was dimly lit. "I'd prefer it if you didn't."
"Good. Because I'm not into some of that really kinky stuff."
Jared laughed, watching Trevor stand from the small, private table. Trevor was wearing a slinky red sequined dress that fit perfectly to his slight frame. His hair was real, not a wig like some of the other transvestites. The locks were curly, spiraling down his shoulders when they weren't tied back in an elegant knot. He wore slightly understated make-up, red nail polish to match the dress, and high, strappy heels. He was stunning, and if Jared had been into that, he probably would have been all over Trevor. He and the forty-something transvestite had been friends for so long that Jared couldn't remember a time without him. He was a great help in Jared's developing teen years, when he realized that some men, just as some women, were highly attractive. They had never taken their relationship further than friendship, however, regardless of the constant flirting they did with each other.
"Thank you, Trev," Jared smiled, watching Trevor start to move away from the table.
"Anything for you, baby Jay," he returned, speaking over his shoulder in a soft voice.
"You look beautiful, baby," he winked at him.
"I know, sugar," he smiled back.
Jared knew he could trust Trevor. And Trevor had no indentifying body marks, like Jared's tattoos. Sitting at the table, he watched Trevor saunter over to the bar. Jared took a swig of his beer and waited for the scene to unfold before him. Trevor -- Belinda, when he was out on a night like this, or when he was doing a Drag Queen show -- situated himself upon a barstool, using all of his assets to get the attention of the youn man that lounged nearby. Sure enough, those long legs of his worked like a charm.
Doug was clearly underage, but his family owned so much of the city that the bartender didn't bother with him. After all, what Dougie wants, Dougie gets. That had been his father's motto from day one, and it had rung true for the past eighteen years. Carrying an opened bottle of beer, Doug traversed around the bar, leaving his lackies behind. He had the walk of a man who was over confident, sly. Jared gritted his teeth as he watched him, annoyed by just the man's presence. Stretching out his long legs, Jared propped one foot up on the chair to his right and settled in to watch the show.
This asshole wasn't going to go back after Jensen. Not if he could help it.
"You sure Jared doesn't mind?"
Jensen shrugged his shoulders, sitting yoga-style on the sofa. "Nah," he told Chris, watching the man shed his jacket and drape it over a stack of boxes.
"Where is he, anyway?" Chris asked, picking up the six-pack of beer he'd brought, carrying it over to the sofa.
Jensen shrugged again. "Out," he answered. "He said he had some stuff to do, that we should just go ahead with the movie."
Taking one of the beers out of the cardboard crate, Chris eyed him. "You guys didn't have a fight, did you?"
Jensen shook his head, spying down at the movie case. "No," he said. "He just kind of does this every now and then. We're not joined at the hip, he needs his own time too."
"Could've fooled me," he chuckled.
"Besides, wise-ass," Jensen continued. "I'd like to spend some time with my best friend." He held out his hand, waiting for Chris to give him a bottle.
Raising an eyebrow, Chris handed him one of the beers. His father had gotten them for him, figuring Chris was close enough to a man, and he could make wise enough decisions about alcohol. They wouldn't over-do it like they had the night of the party. Both of them had had hangovers from hell, not something they were ready to repeat just yet. "Out of pity?" he asked.
Jensen frowned, twisting the cap off the beer. "Okay, so you heard about the pity-friendship thing I said," he sighed.
Chris flopped down on the sofa next to Jensen, gazing over at him, his smile gone. "Yeah, I heard about it," he returned. "Your dad made it a point that I found out. And it really hurt my feelings, Jen."
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I just assumed."
"Yeah, you know what happens when you assume."
"You make an ass..."
"...out of you and me," Chris nodded, speaking in tandem with Jensen. He slapped a hand onto Jensen's knee, shaking him gently. "I'm not usually a proud guy, Jen," he continued, "but I like to think I'm an excellent judge of character. I'm your friend because I like you, not because I pity you. You mean a lot to me."
Jensen stared over at him, hazel-green eyes glittering in the low light of the garage. In a teasing motion, he leaned into Chris, heading straight for the other man's lips. He was rewarded with a palm to his face, shoving him backwards, and Chris calling him a loser. He laughed and sat up straight again, taking a good swallow from his beer.
"And what the hell is this?" Chris asked, reaching in front of Jensen to push the man's T-shirt sleeve aside.
"Something I'm having done."
Chris laughed aloud, leaning back in his seat and raising his beer bottle to his lips. "Your father would have a fucking fit."
Jensen laughed too. "I know," he agreed. "I kind of want to show him just to see the look on his face."
Chris mocked Alan, dropping his jaw and widening his eyes as much as he could. His best dumbfounded, shocked, stunned expression. "Jensen Ross! What is the goddamned meaning of this?"
"Fuck, don't! He actually would kill me, wouldn't he?"
"Yeah," Chris said, patting Jensen's shoulder. "Probably."
By eleven o'clock, Doug was drunk enough to be unsteady on his feet, his speech slurred, and his eyes blinking independently from one another. He was leaning in closer and closer to Trevor -- who was totally successful and convincing as Belinda. They had moved to a corner table to "get to know each other." All that really involved for Doug was kissing Belinda and pressing her hand to his groin. Trevor had been around long enough to know how to avoid getting groped and found out that he was just a man in a dress. He used all those tactics on Doug, to keep him under control.
The kisses were hot, Jared had to admit. As much as he hated Doug, the man had some skill, it seemed. But even though he was slightly turned on by Belinda and Doug, he couldn't help thinking of Jensen and how he would like to kiss him that way. How Jensen would taste when their tongues touched. What Jensen's throat smelled like after a night of drinking and making out. What the sheets and blankets would smell like after a night of grappling for dominance with each other.
Clearing his throat, Jared refocused his thoughts, deciding that he didn't particularly feel like walking out of the place with a raging hard-on. He shifted in his chair and adjusted his sunglasses, still shading his eyes. He saw Belinda look over at him as Doug dipped his head to kiss her neck. She nodded just slightly and whispered into Doug's ear. A few moments later, they were arising from the booth and heading to the bar to pay their tab. Doug paid for Belinda's tab as well as his own, keeping his arm slung around her waist the entire time. He nodded a quick goodbye to his friends, who still sat nearby like dogs waiting to be tossed a scrap or two. They watched him go and then turned back to their conversation. Apparently, this was a regular thing for them. Jared kept his head low as he watched Doug leave, holding Belinda close. Once the couple was out the front doors to the bar, he got up, threw a couple of bills onto a waitress's tray and followed them out the door.
Doug had a sporty car -- a new Dodge Charger, Jared noted. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight, believing that the new Chargers were shit compared to the old, classic cars. Just like a spoiled rich boy to think he knew what a real car was. Trevor was backed up against it now, working the Belinda vibe, as Doug kept him caged in his arms, pinned to the car.
Jared walked up behind Doug, not bothering to mask his footsteps. Doug was so into kissing Belinda, that he didn't even hear him. Jared stood motionless for a moment, watching through his glasses, and then reached over to tap Doug on the shoulder. The first time didn't work. The second time, Jared tapped harder, and finally got Doug to break the embrace.
Annoyed, Doug turned around. "What the fuck do you--"
Before he could finish his sentence, Jared punched the teen square on the jaw. Instantly, Doug's eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the parking lot floor. Trevor, unshaken by the incident, adjusted his bra strap and swished his hair off his shoulders. "About time," he said in a voice just slightly too low.
"Sorry," Jared smiled. "You looked like you were having a good time."
"Did I mention how much you're going to owe me for this?"
"Repeatedly."
The movie was loud, explosions, riots and automatic gunfire sounding through the garage. Jensen and Chris sat wide-eyed on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn that Jeffrey had made sitting between them. Four empty bottles of beer sat upon the old, scarred coffee table, and two more sat at their feet, still half-full. There was a wet sound, and blood gushed across the screen.
"Oh, ew!" Jensen cried out. "That was so gross."
"That was awesome," Chris laughed, his head rocking back against the sofa. His arm was draped along the back, too, lazing at Jensen's back in a friendly, used-to-each-other gesture. It didn't matter that once, when they were younger, Jensen had had a crush on Chris. They never let that make things awkward between them.
The door to the house opened and heavy-soled boots thumped loudly upon the hollow stairs. "Hey."
Jensen and Chris turned, finding Jared there, holding his motorcycle helmet, gloves peeking out the top. "Hey," they both said to him.
"Did you have fun?" Jensen asked.
Jared nodded. "Did I miss the movie?"
"It's about halfway through," Chris told him. "We started it late. Want us to start it over?"
"Nah," he answered. "Jen, your computer on upstairs?"
Jensen nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Why?"
"I gotta check something on eBay," he replied. "I'll be down in a little while."
"Okay."
They went back to the movie, oblivious to the fact that Jared carried his bike helmet up the ladder with him. He shed his leather jacket and sat down at the small area Jensen had used for his laptop, printer and scanner. Peeking behind him to make sure that Jensen and Chris were still engrossed in the movie, Jared pulled Jensen's Polaroid camera from inside the helmet. It was bulky and barely fit, but the gloves had done their job in covering what didn't fit into the helmet. He then reached into his back jean pocket and pulled out a number of Polaroids. He stashed Jensen's camera where it usually was, and flipped open the scanner. A few more clicks of the mouse, and the scanner whirred to life. He glanced back at Jensen and Chris one more time, but the sounds of the movie drowned out anything he was doing in the loft.
Turning his attention to the computer, Jared opened the pirated copy of a paint program he'd installed on Jensen's computer to help him with some graphic work for art class, and cropped out each one of the Polaroids. Trevor's face wasn't visible. The only one really identifiable was Doug, passed out on a ratty old motel comforter. The compromising positions Doug had been put in were perfect. In a few of them, he was touching Trevor, who was perfectly fine with having his hung-like-a-horse and fully erect cock photographed. Jared had to smile at the shots he'd gotten. This was going to be good assurance that the bully would leave Jensen alone. After he was done scanning the pictures, Jared saved the JPEGs and took them off the scanner. He pocketed them again and headed down to watch the rest of the movie with Jensen and Chris.
--TBC--