"All in a Day's Work" PG J2
This is what happens when I try to fill a prompt. The prompt concerned was made by poor_choices on oxoniensis's challenge to fill peoples' wishlists. One of the two I signed up for was this one - FIC: CWRPF, J2, Jensen is the only sane man on the crew of a dysfunctional TV show, Jared is the diva lead actor who hits on him constantly.
Title: "All in a Day's Work"
Word Count: 6940
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warning: Clif
Beta: My beloved and trusty spoonlessone
Disclaimer: This bears no resemblance to any person living or dead, and is an attempt at humor.
Author's notes: Other thanks go to jennylynneh, who mocks me mercilessly and suggests apalling ideas which I then take up and use. The story is for chash, who entertains me with her very prolific works, and I do hope this is what you were looking for in a fic.
“Get her off the set!” The shrill voice pierced the air as Jensen walked onto the sound stage. This was it; his big chance. Here he was in Vancouver, Canada, at the Warner Brothers’ studio; it was a dream come true at last.
He’d been warned that there had been some disruption to the production during the previous season, but nothing had warned him to prepare for missiles. He barely had time to dodge to the side as a large mug, spilling coffee as it flew, shot by him to smash against the heavy door behind him, showering him indiscriminately with shards of porcelain and scalding hot dark roast.
As all eyes turned towards him, Jensen Ackles wondered if he’d made the right choice when he’d signed on to take over as director for the second season of “Two Left Feet.” The show had amazed everyone the previous year, coming from nowhere as it had to take over the top spot on all the polls and earning Emmy nods for cast and production staff alike. He should have known it was too good to be true when Walt Withers, who had been the director for the entire first season had gone into rehab without warning and who was now apparently barricaded into his room and refusing to come out in case the suits dragged him back to fulfil his contract.
Mindful of the the fact that he hadn’t actually seen where the missile had originated, he drew a deep breath, plastered a winning smile onto his face and moved into the room, preparing himself to duck if necessary. The room had fallen quiet as he began to walk forward, and he reminded himself that he was the one who was responsible for getting this crowd of strangers working together and maintaining the place it had carved out for itself the previous year.
He drew a breath and was about to speak when the voice he’d heard as he entered went on the air again. “She’s still here. Why is she still here?”
Happy to have been given a clue, Jensen finally managed to locate the speaker, and a feeling of dread descended on him. Jared Padalecki, red faced and scowling, was apparently not only the source of the voice that had split the air so thoroughly, he was obviously the source of the missile that had so nearly taken his head off, and he looked as though he was winding up to start hurling more missiles.
Jared was standing beside the craft services table, and was reaching for a stack of side plates as Jensen walked towards him. Jensen had heard a little about Jared. The man was notoriously high maintenance, but his popularity was such that the studio to date had been prepared to give him whatever he asked for. Since he had been much of the reason for the show becoming a hit, Jensen felt that now would not be a good time to initiate conflict.
Mentally shaking his head, he strode towards Padalecki, extending his hand and smiling with as much sincerity as he could muster. “You must be Jared,” he said.
“Must I?” Jared didn’t seem impressed if the way he was ignoring Jensen’s approach was anything to go on, and, as Jensen watched, his fingers twitched around one of the plates.
“I’m pleased to meet you at last. I’ll be relying on you to help me keep the show at the top of the ratings now that Walt is out of the picture.”
That caught Jared’s attention at last, and he abandoned the plate, straightening up to look at Jensen at last, the scowl still tracing angry lines between his eyebrows. There was a moment’s pause, and then, miraculously, the storm clouds faded, and the beginnings of a smile revealed a set of teeth so perfect that the dentist who had crafted them must have long since retired to a villa in Tuscany, secure in the knowledge that he had achieved perfection.
The smile widened, revealing a set of dimples that bracketed a smile like that of the Cheshire cat, and Jensen stared, transfixed, at the man who stood in front of him.
“Well, hello.” Jared was the first to speak, and it felt to Jensen as though the world had been frozen for a moment, all of a sudden lurching back into life. He swallowed and held out his hand in a formal offer to shake.
The hand was taken and enveloped in a paw that eclipsed it, and Jensen, by no means short, found himself looking up into a pair of intense hazel eyes that were tip-tilted and fox-like. “I’m Jensen,” he said, voice catching a little as he swallowed back his nerves.
“Hi, Jensen.” Jared was still holding his hand, and Jensen tugged a little in an attempt to recapture control of it. He failed.
“Can you get that wretched woman off the set, please?” Jared fixed him with an imploring gaze. “Every day she puts the bacon on the same part of the plate as the eggs, and today she dumped hash browns on the top of it. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Ummm…” was Jensen’s intelligent reply as he finally succeeded in regaining his hand, slightly squashed but only a little the worse for wear. He wasn’t altogether sure what Jared was talking about, but he could recognize a minefield when he came across one. “How about I sort it out after we do the read through?”
“You promise?” Jared’s smile seemed to widen, although Jensen wasn’t at all sure how that might be possible.
“I promise,” murmured Jensen. “I’ll sort it out.”
Jared turned away and for another plate, beginning to load it with breakfast foods, meticulously ensuring that at no time at all did any one food touch another.
“You know he’s quite insane?” The lisping voice sounded from behind Jensen, and he turned swiftly to discover a diminutive brunette making stabbing motions with her fork towards Jared.
“What?” Jensen was beginning to think he’d stumbled into Bizarro world or something of that type. Nothing was quite making sense.
“Padadickhead. He’s nuts. You’ll see. He has to turn around three times whenever he hits his mark, and touch the door frame over his head when he goes through a door, and he can’t eat salad with dressing on it. He gets the dressing on the side and eats it separately, and…” The newcomer’s face contorted in an expression of disgust at what she was saying, and she stabbed her fork towards Jared again. “He makes me want to pour the syrup all over him, just to see if he would explode.”
“It sounds as if you and he aren’t cut out to be friends then,” murmured Jensen brightly. He was about to ask her name when a female voice called out, “Genevieve, you’re wanted in make-up,” and with a sinking feeling it dawned on Jensen that this angry little woman was Jared’s co-star, and love interest on the show. Fuck! “You… er… dance beautifully together,” he said as she directed one last snarl in Jared’s general direction.
Genevieve fixed him with a cold stare. “Don’t ever speak to me again,” she growled, turning and heading off towards the makeup trailer.
“Well, that went well,” Jensen said to himself as he went in search of his director of photography. He found the man he was seeking sitting in a corner against one of the coils of cable, curled into a crumpled heap as he sobbed his eyes out. Surveying the scene, Jensen’s jaw dropped and he almost turned tail and fled. He was beginning to think he’d inadvertently fallen down the rabbit hole, or maybe there was a camera trained on him from some secret location, and he was being punk’d.
That was it. Nodding to himself, Jensen squared his shoulders and approached the weeping man. “Uh… hello?” he said, in the kind of voice he would usually reserve for injured bunny rabbits or terminally ill relatives. “I’m Jensen. Can we discuss the lighting for this morning’s shoot?”
Drowned blue eyes turn on him, wide and watery. “Oh, thank God you’re here. Did you know that the baby beluga died?” Fresh tears welled up in the man’s eyes, and a sob escaped him. “It’s a tragedy. How can we stop it before more die?”
“Baby beluga?” Jensen frowned, completely at sea. “What baby beluga is that? Is there an episode about a whale coming up?”
“Don’t you know anything?” The DoP threatened to burst into renewed sobs, when Jensen was shoved to one side, and a tiny redhead dug her elbow into him as he stumbled to one side.
“Get a grip, Misha,” she screamed and slapped the weeping man repeatedly around the head, loud, meaty blows that echoed through the sound stage and made Jensen wince in sympathy.
Oddly, the assault seemed to be what was needed, and the man shook himself and rose to his feet. Jensen turned to say something to the redhead, but she was already half way across the room, yelling orders at the top of her lungs. For a moment, he stood, indecisive, and then finally shook his head and turned to the Director of Photography and began to go through the shots he wanted to get that morning.
Once he’d determined that Misha was actually competent to perform his duties, and in fact actually surprisingly insightful, full of suggestions for how to achieve interesting shots, Jensen relaxed a little. By the time they were ready to start shooting, he was beginning to feel that he could do this.
The read through went without further weirdness, and Jensen began to relax. Jared insisted on sitting beside him, but that was okay. He appeared to have a good handle on his character, and while he was a little uneasy at the way Genevieve was glaring at them both from across the table, he began to feel as though the show would work out.
Once the read-through was completed to his satisfaction, Jensen ushered them out onto the sound stage to start shooting the first scene. Jared’s stand-in took up his position while the cameraman measured out distances for his shots, and then it was time for rehearsal. Jared stepped up to his mark, looked at it and shrieked.
“What the…?” Jensen frowned, completely confused by the performance. He was left in doubt no longer.
“It’s the wrong color!” Jared was purple with rage. “I can’t use that.”
“Wrong color?” Jared may have thought he’d explained his problem, but Jensen was having trouble assimilating the concept. “What’s the wrong color?”
“The tape. I need the green tape. That’s not green, it’s blue.” Jared was hyperventilating now, and Jensen could see Genevieve sitting in her chair, sharpening a knife as she fixed Jared with her malevolent stare. The redhead - Jensen had ascertained from Sebastian, the man wielding the clapper board that she was an assistant producer called Danni - zoomed in on Jared, palm up and ready to strike, and there was a cry of “Nooo!”
Misha, his director of photography, Emmy nominee and artistic genius, burst into tears again. “Don’t hurt him. Can’t you see how much he’s suffering?”
Seconds later, both Misha and Jared were flat on their backs, and Danni was rubbing her knuckles thoughtfully.
“Was that necessary?” Jensen was wide eyed as he turned towards her.
“You want a piece of me?” Her voice was little-girly and sing-song, but the threat of violence sounded very real. He spread his hands as he backed away, absolutely positive that he didn’t, under any circumstances, want a piece of her.
Nodding in satisfaction, Danni retreated to wherever it was she had her lair, and Jensen turned back to try and get the mark changed so as to be acceptable to Jared, just as Jared flung himself at him and virtually climbed up him. “Save me?” he mumbled. “Don’t let her hit me again.”
Jensen flailed a little. Jared was clinging to him like a limpet, and he was not a lightweight. In fact, thought Jensen, it was rather like being assaulted by a bag full of rocks. He made up his mind to amp up his workout routine while he was working on this show.
He was finally rescued by a very odd looking man-mountain with a huge, droopy Zapata mustache, a shaven head, and an emerald green satin evening gown, artfully draped to reveal rather more hairy chest than was quite wholesome, and who appeared to be wearing a pair of size 15 Jimmy Choos.
“Get down, Jared.” The voice was basso profundo and offered no opportunity to compromise. “Gabe? Bring me a bunny.”
Jared slowly relinquished his stranglehold on Jensen’s neck as a diminutive man ran in clutching a large, albino rabbit. “Bunny?” murmured Jared, fixing Jensen with woebegone eyes.
“It sure looks that way,” nodded Jensen, who was still attempting to recover from the shock of the vision in emerald green. He blinked a couple of time, but it was still there, filling his eyes. The little gnome with the rabbit scampered up to them and held it aloft like a trophy, and Jared gazed at Jensen imploringly.
“You’ll have to tell him,” said the gnome. “You’re the director.”
Swallowing nervously, Jensen gave Jared a smile - or at least he hoped it was a smile and not a grimace - and nodded. “Go ahead,” he said in what he hoped was a strong, directorial voice. Jared reached for the rabbit and enfolded it in his arms, then retreated behind Jensen to pet his prize, leaving Jensen gaping wordlessly at the ones in front of him.
“You look confused.” The gnome seemed to come to a decision and stepped closer to Jensen. “Don’t worry. I’ve got just what you need.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle. “Tranquilizer? I’ve got Prozac, Xanax or Effexor. Name your poison.”
“Uh,” Jensen tried to find the words to ask this strange little person just what his role was, but the gnome himself pre-empted him. “You don’t have to choose now, but Walt always liked the Xanax. My name’s Gabe, and I’ll be your set designer today.”
“Hah!” The redhead with the mean right hook gave a sarcastic laugh. “He’s a gofer. Don’t listen to him, and, whatever you do, don’t sleep with your mouth open or he’ll steal the fillings from your teeth.”
“Ooh, you bitch.” Gabe turned around, apparently ready to take the discussion into the realms of physicality, but he was distracted by Jared, who had straightened up and was holding the rabbit out to Gabe.
“Thanks, dude. I feel much better now. Can I have the green tape now? I can’t use the blue.” Gabe smiled at him and took his rabbit. “Be right there, Jay-man. Don’t fret.” Turning, he made his way to the back of the sound stage and out the door, followed by the incredible hulk, who may have been wearing haute couture, but who was stumping along with an uncompromisingly masculine gait.
“What the hell was that?” Jensen pinched himself, wondering if he’d eaten some of those weird mushrooms in the soup he’d had earlier.
“Oh, that was Clif.” Jared appeared to be himself again, and he gave Jensen that dazzling smile, causing Jensen to inhale sharply, because this man was not only the hot, gorgeous star of the show he was about to direct - always supposing they could rustle up green masking tape for his marks - he was also, from Jensen’s observations, completely batshit insane. Jensen thought that would probably disqualify Jared from ever becoming his life partner, or even a one night stand.
“Okay. Clif. I get it.” He paused. “What the hell is Clif?” He waved his arms about in an attempt to describe just what it was that disturbed him about Clif. To his surprise, Jared burst into peals of laughter.
“Oh, I like you!” he said, slinging an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about Clif. He’s my driver. He’s only really disturbing when he wears his tutu.”
Gabe had rushed back with a reel of green masking tape, and now appeared to be about to replace Jared’s mark on the floor. A sleazy looking blond had shambled out after Gabe, and stood behind him, idly scratching his crotch and squinting at Jensen as if unsure whether he was a good thing or not. With a flourish, Gabe peeled away the offending blue tape and handed it to the blond, bending to apply the new, green mark. The blond peered at the hank of tape he’d been given and then absently stuffed it into his mouth and began to eat it.
“Gawd.” Jensen had been watching, fascinated as the blond chewed his way through the masking tape, but the new voice caused him to jump and then turn in the direction of the new voice. A man with a somewhat lived-in face, clad in a plum colored velvet smoking jacket with gold frogging on it stepped forward, waving a cigarette in a holder. “Can we just get to work?” he said, his English accent betraying more than a trace of North London. “I did Shakespeare in Oxford, Goddamnit! I played Richard III...there were 5 curtain calls! Now look at me!” He wrung his hands. “That I should be reduced to this! I am a thespian, ducky. Don’t you think we should stop all this tomfoolery and do a little acting, if that would please the rest of you.”
“Shut up, Sheppard!” The words were clipped, and there was a blur of movement as the redhead who had terrorized Jared raced in and dealt the complainant a roundhouse blow that felled him to the ground and left him unconscious. She smirked and blew on her fist, while assorted grips and lighting technicians gave her a round of applause, and Jared squeaked and ducked down behind Jensen again, clinging around his right thigh as if he were a life jacket.
Gabe had finished setting up Jared’s mark, and was straightening up now, while the blond had grabbed hold of Jensen’s script - he’d allowed his hand to fall to his side in his consternation at what had happened with the British actor he’d just seen assaulted - and was now browsing on it, taking huge bites and chewing with every evidence of enjoyment.
“Chad!” Gabe sounded shocked. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t touch the scripts.”
The man addressed as Chad nodded, a smirk on his face. “Was hungry.”
“Well, that settles it. You have to go back into the cage for now.”
Chad’s face fell. “But you said…”
“I know what I said, but you were bad.” Gabe pulled a taser and a cattle prod from somewhere about his person and began to drive the whining blond away from the cameras. “If I could trust you, I could let you pet my bunnies, but…” The door closed on the scolding voice, and Jensen peered over his shoulder at Jared, who was still cowering.
“Can we do a little work now?” Jensen’s voice was soft, and even to himself he sounded desperate, but Jared released his stranglehold on his right leg and rose to his feet again. As the circulation began to return to his limb, Jensen released a sigh of relief and began to set up the scene.
Amazingly, it went well. Both Jared and Genevieve did exactly what they were supposed to do, and after make-up had been applied to Mark Sheppard’s jaw, so did he, although he spent the time between takes commenting on how noble he was, and how he really deserved better than this.
There were no further major events during the day, and Gabe only had to bring in the bunny for Jared once more, when Danni stormed through the crowd to slap a pointy object out of Genevieve’s hands and growl in her face until the malevolent actress turned pale and fled.
Jared had hit his mark every time, and although he seemed to pale every time he had to dance with Genevieve, he demonstrated both competence and a growing trust in Jensen. Whenever Jensen looked at him, he found Jared watching him intently, eyes soft and yearning.
By the time Jensen called a wrap for the day it was dark, his nerves were jangling, and he was looking forward to retreating to the nearest bar and climbing inside a bottle of scotch. He was about to leave the set when the redhead, Danni, approached him, and it was all he could do not to gibber and back away.
“You’ll have to put your foot down,” she growled. “The poor rabbit is working too hard, and Genevieve is approaching that time of the month, so you know she’s only going to get worse.”
“Uh…” Jensen was acutely aware that he’d moved back far enough that his back was pressed against a flat. “What do you suggest?”
“You’ll have to have her searched on the way in every day for the next week. I can tell the signs.” She laid a hand on his arm and looked at him meaningfully. “Don’t let her have any nail files, and make sure the craft services people break out the plastic cutlery. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Why?” Surely , he reasoned, the actress couldn’t be that bad. For heaven’s sake, she looked as if she weighed about 80 lbs soaking wet. “What will she do?”
“Last time she got this bad, she rammed a knitting needle through the fleshy part of Walt’s thigh when he tried to get her to smile happily in the scene.” She gave a sigh. “Poor Walt. He was never the same after that.”
By this time Jensen had begun to appreciate Danni’s input. He gave her what he hoped was a smile rather than a grimace and hurried off to give the relevant orders to the caterers and the security team. Breathing a sigh of relief that he could now go and find that drink, he headed for his car. He had just bent to insert his key in the lock and pull the door to the driver’s seat open when he was grabbed from behind by a pair of very strong arms.
He was only human; he gave a girlie scream that could possibly have rivaled Mariah Carey when goosed by a cattle prod. There was a whimpering sound from behind him, but he wasn’t released. “Can I pet you? I want to pet you,” murmured a voice behind his ear, and all of a sudden it all became clear to him.
Jared was holding him. Jared was probably about to murder him horribly and feed him to the bunnies, or maybe to Genevieve. He swallowed. “Don’t…”
“Bzuh?” asked Jared, intelligent to the last. He relaxed his grip a little, and Jensen took the opportunity to wiggle out of his clutches and turn to face him. It was a cold evening, and there was the beginnings of a frost that lent the air a crisp, sharp clarity it usually lacked. There was a faint, cold breeze blowing, and it slid vagrant through Jared’s hair, blowing it over his forehead and into his eyes and making him look impossibly young and incredibly sexy.
Jensen frowned. The man was a complete lunatic, and it would not do for Jensen to fall for him - in fact that was the very last thing he should do. However, the moon was a silver dollar in the sky, frosting the planes and angles of Jared’s cheekbones and turning them to liquid silver, and he wasn’t sure he could hold himself to that.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jensen frowned. “Please don’t eat me?” he murmured, wondering whether he was actually starting to blend in with the show’s weird crew. It would be sad to think he’d flipped over the railings this fast, but it was something he needed to keep an eye on.
“I like you, Jensen.” Jared’s gaze was hooded, hard to fathom in the ghostlight, and Jensen frowned.
“Well, I like you too,” he murmured. “But I don’t like it when someone grabs hold of me without warning. That scares me.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jared let go of him and stepped back. “I thought…” He paused, frowning, and then his face cleared and he beamed. “Shall we go do the casting couch now?”
Jensen’s eyes opened wide. “That’s quite okay, Jared. You already got the part.”
“But… it would be awesome.” Jared fixed Jensen with an imploring look that reminded him of Puss in Boots from Shrek, doing its best to convince people of its innocence.
“It probably would, Jay, but it’s not going to happen.” Jensen shook his head and turned back to unlock his car. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix work and personal stuff.” He smiled apologetically as he climbed in behind the wheel and prepared to leave. As he pulled out of the lot he saw Jared droop visibly, and his journey home was fraught with questions that he just couldn’t answer.
~~~
The following day, Jensen was on the set early to meet with his crew bearing a number of questions to which he wanted answers. Danni, whose name actually was Danneel, turned out to be the on-site producer. She greeted him with a smirk.
“You came back, then,” she said. “Collins, that’s $20 you owe me.”
There were sobs from the corner where the camera man was sitting, but he fumbled for his wallet anyway and handed over a crumpled and somewhat moist banknote. “Enjoy it while you can. Money won’t compensate for anything when the earth goes up in flames, you know.”
Rolling her eyes, Danni made for the coffee machine and poured herself a cup, and Jensen followed, drawn by the scent of it. Reaching for a mug, he took the carafe from Danni with a mumbled thank you.
They were just winding up the details for shooting for the day when the cast began to drift in. Genevieve was the first, stomping in with her hair in curlers and a bag that clinked suspiciously hanging over her shoulder. “Hair and makeup, Gen,” called Danni as she slouched through the door.
The response was muttered, and therefore thankfully inaudible, but it certainly sounded violent to Jensen. She turned to follow Samantha, her personal make-up artist, obediently enough, and Danni rose to her feet to follow her, murmuring, “Just going to relieve her of all the hardware.”
The next to arrive was Mark Sheppard, and he too was detailed off to make-up. He went, muttering direly about the way things were done around there. As Danni, who had emerged from the makeup trailer with her arms full of knives, skewers and one ice pick, pointed wordlessly towards the make-up trailer, Mark turned to glower at her. “I am a THESPIAN, ducky," he growled. “I’ve worked with Larry and Ian and Vanessa. You can’t intimidate me.”
He took off sharply when Danneel raised a fist and moved menacingly towards him. Jensen was beginning to value her persuasive methods. As she returned to her place near him, he murmured softly, “What can we do about Jared? The man seems to need a little help.”
“He does seem to have a few extra screws loose at the moment, yes.” She gave Jensen a perky smile. “I’ll give Dr. Ritching a call. He always knows what to do.”
He would have inquired further about Dr. Ritching, but at that moment there was a bellow of, “Jared,” from the corridor outside, and the man himself shot through the door and rushed to Jensen’s side, where he stood nervously hopping from foot to foot, his hands twitching.
“What’s the matter with you, big guy?” Jensen quirked an eye at him, wondering if he needed permission to go to the bathroom. Frankly he wouldn’t put it past Jared after the shenanigans of the previous day.
“Jensen does not like to be grabbed,” gabbled the man himself. “Hello. Hi Jensen, it’s good to see youcanIhugyouplease?”
“I suppose…” Jensen didn’t get any further than that before he was engulfed in the kind of hug that made him wonder if he would ever be able to breathe again, or if his ribcage had permanently collapsed. He was just beginning to see his life flashing in front of his very eyes when the bellowing voice from earlier once again went on the air.
“Jared!”
Releasing his prey, Jared jumped back a step, allowing Jensen to gulp in a breath. He was about to take another when the owner of the voice stepped around the corner and into the room and completely put a stop to the whole inhaling thing Jensen had going on.
“Go to wardrobe!” The stentorian order emanated from a sight that Jensen was pretty sure would scar him for life. The creature that had worn green satin the previous day was this morning clad in a tight black rubber mini dress, with slutty, ripped fishnets and knee high purple patent leather boots with stiletto heels. Jared looked terrified as he shot off towards the wardrobe trailer, and Jensen wasn’t sure he blamed the poor man. If Genghis Khan had ever attempted to do an impression of Debbie Harry in her Blondie heyday, this would be it. He blinked, but when he reopened his eyes the vision was still there.
Danneel smirked and clapped him on the shoulder. “Be strong,” she said as she sauntered off, no doubt to beat up on some poor unsuspecting crew member.
Shooting began, and despite Jared discovering a need to say all his lines backward in rehearsal, before he could say them forward, it went very well. By the time they broke for lunch they were slightly ahead of schedule. Jensen was beginning to relax as he waited in line for his food, just as Richard, the hair stylist, came storming out of his trailer and seized Genevieve by the hair.
“Give it back, bitch!” he bellowed, shaking the small woman from side to side. Kane, the cook, stepped forward, uttering profanities and smote Richard on the head with his ladle.
“What the motherfuckin’ fuck are you fuckin’…”
“She stole my razor.” Richard had held onto Genevieve with a deathlike grip that threatened to yank Genevieve’s hair from her head.
“You got this fucker’s fuckin’ razor?” Kane thrust his face into Genevieve’s and snarled. Wordlessly, she fumbled in the pocket of the frothy tulle dance dress she was wearing and pulled out a straight-edged razor, holding it out with a hand that was visibly trembling.
Snatching the thing from her hand, Kane studied it. “Fuckin’ sharp,” he growled. “Fuck!”
Genevieve made a face at Kane’s retreating back and then stomped away mumbling. Richard stalked after Kane. “My razor, mine!” he said, striking a pose with one hand on his hip. “You’re a dear, sweet man to help me like that, but I need it. Jeffrey Dean is due in, and I can’t do a thing about his five-o-clock shadow without that razor.”
Kane turned, snarled at Richard as he studied it, and finally handed the razor over. “Fuckin’ fairy!” he said and headed back to dispense more soup, leaving the rest of them to try and distinguish who exactly the fuckin’ fairy might be.
While this drama had been going on, Jared had made a bee-line for Jensen, huddling close to him as he methodically picked all the snow peas out of his stir fry. “You okay, Jay?” Jensen gave him an encouraging smile. Jared returned it, offering him a dimpled grin that could have graced the most exacting toothpaste ad.
“Okay now,” he said. “You’ll save me from her; I know that now.”
“Why does she hate you?” asked Jensen, frowning.
“Been like that ever since we got married,” said Jared. “She thinks I’m pond scum.”
“That seems a little harsh. Why did she marry you, if she thinks that?” Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Didn’t follow her Jared improvement program,” Jared replied. “It was too hard.”
Jensen was about to ask what that entailed, but all of a sudden there was a booming laugh, and a dark, ruggedly handsome man pirouetted into the midst of the company and did a couple of pliés and an arabesque. “Hello, my lovelies,” he trilled. “Did you miss me?”
“It’s Jeff,” confided Jared, beaming. “He looks really good in tights.”
“I bet you’ll look pretty good in them too,” murmured Jensen.
“Gen says I have chicken legs,” Jared replied. He’d finished all the peas and moved on to the peppers, concentrating on piling all the red ones up in the corner of his container while eating the green ones.
“Nonsense.” Jensen finished his meal and rose to his feet. “See you when you get out of wardrobe. I’m looking forward to seeing you in the tights.”
He made his way back to the craft table to pick up some dessert to take with him, and averted his eyes as the PA, Chad, lifted one of the empty cartons and took an enormous bite from it. Grabbing a couple of cupcakes Jensen made himself scarce.
He was on the set in the local theater with Collins, getting the lighting set up for the ballet scene that was the climax of the season opener, when Jared’s mini-clad driver approached him, leading a slender, fragile looking blonde with long red fingernails and a knowing smirk. “There he is. See what I mean?” The driver’s walrus moustache bristled as he spoke, and to Jensen’s fascinated eye it seemed to have a life of its own.
“Oh, yes; I do see.” The blonde clasped her hands together over her heart and nodded fervently. “I’ll measure him up right now. He’ll look stunning.”
At this point, Jensen decided he had better intervene. “Hey now, what’s all this?”
“Clif here thinks you’d look really special in a cheong sam. I’m inclined to agree with him. You have the legs for it.” The blonde flashed him a smile, and Jensen’s eyes opened wide.
“A what?” was his intelligent reply.
“A cheong sam,” she repeated. “It’s one of those Chinese dresses that has the split up the side. High, mandarin collar and…”
“Absolutely not.” Jensen had always believed that ‘blood running cold’ was a figure of speech, but the words he’d just heard seemed to have produced that very effect. He shuddered. “Out of the question.” He folded his arms and jerked his chin down with a decided air of rejection.
“But Katie thinks…”
“I said no!” Jensen was adamant, and whatever it was that Katie thought would never be heard, because Misha, who had been busily filming this interchange, stepped forward.
“Begone, foul fiend,” he intoned. “You’re seriously interfering with my personal vibrations.”
Katie appeared to be considering violence, but Clif took her arm and began to back away. As he went, he shook his head sadly at Jensen. “We could have been so good together,” he said, sorrow infusing his tone. “But somehow I will carry on.”
Turning back to Misha, Jensen smiled his gratitude, and Misha gave him a peace sign as they returned to work.
~~~
The cast was assembled for the final beat of the episode, in which Jared would finally succeed in performing the pas de deux which had been the focus for the plot. Jensen thought Jared looked rather good in the white tights and tunic that covered him completely while revealing every contour and bulge on his body. One particular, magnificent bulge drew his attention as if hauling it in on a string. The man had a serious package down there, and Jensen’s mouth was watering as he tried not to stare at it. Sure, Jared was weird, and had a few OCD behaviors, but he was also smoking hot, and appeared to like Jensen a lot.
As the scene progressed, everything was going well. Genevieve looked graceful in her sparkling white tutu and diamante headdress although there had been a brief uncomfortable moment when Sebastian, the man wielding the clapper, had called out, “Scene 32 take 3 and brought the clapper down on Genevieve’s left breast, causing a brief but violent scene until Danni had intervened, laying him out with one well aimed uppercut.
Jeff, blue chin shaved smooth as a baby’s bottom, leapt and twirled in gay abandon across the stage as he performed his part as the kidnapper of princess Genevieve. Very gay abandon, was Jensen’s thought, although he had to commend the man on his pas de chat. His whole air was magnificent. Jensen was really happy with the way things were going. Each scene was moving on like clockwork.
The moment of truth arrived, and Jared, who had been waiting in the wings, danced onto the stage and plucked Genevieve into their first lift, raising her high above his head in effortlessly graceful fashion. Misha panned the camera back as they twirled together, and Jared set her down in preparation for the next movement.
At that moment, Genevieve gave a screech and pulled a stiletto out from somewhere in her bodice, raising it with a snarl on her face as she rushed towards Jared.
Jensen could only look on with horror as she bore down on her partner, evidently intent on ending him once and for all. Jared fell back a couple of steps, his face as pale as his costume, and it appeared that Jensen was about to lose his leading man. All of a sudden there came a yodeling sound, and a slender figure, long red hair trailing out behind her like a cloak, swooped down on a rope in a manner reminiscent of Tarzan, cannoning into Genevieve and knocking her ass over tea kettle.
The knife went flying, and the very quick thinking Jeff, who had been watching the goings on with horror, dove forward to grab it, before Genevieve could recover it.
Following that, there was pandemonium. Several of the crew members held Genevieve motionless, while Misha called for Gabriel to bring the strait-jacket, a call that made Jensen blink.
“You keep a strait-jacket on the set?” he asked Jensen, wondering if that was just this particular set, or if it was standard procedure for all TV sets.
“Oh, yeah. Need it for when the bunnies don’t work,” nodded Danni, who by this time had descended from her rope and was peeling off the leather gloves she had worn for the job.
“Well, thank you,” he murmured, a little uncertain of what the etiquette was in situations where the leading lady had narrowly missed making kebabs out of her leading man.
“Just go be nice to Jay,” she said, taking in his confusion and offering him a practical direction to take. “I think he’s a little shaken.”
Casting a glance over at Jared, Jensen could see what she meant. He climbed up onto the stage and rushed over to where the lanky actor was still vibrating like a tuning fork. “You okay, Jay?” he asked, reaching to pat Jared’s shoulder. Jared’s face crumpled, and he flung himself into Jensen’s arms.
“I don’t want to do this any more,” he whimpered. “She wants to kill me.”
“It’s okay, Jay. I think we need to fire her and get someone who isn’t homicidal to take over.” Jensen patted his back in a soothing manner as he attempted to calm the jittery man. Mentally he was wincing. This would probably mean re-shooting everything they’d done to date.
“McCoy’s her understudy. We always retain one, because Gen’s so… volatile. If you want, Clif can go get her; she’s at the hotel,” announced Danneel, furiously working her iPad as she messaged the studio back in LA.
“Do it. It’s perfectly obvious that Genevieve needs treatment somewhere nice and quiet.” He led Jared over to a corner of the auditorium, had him sit down and handed him the bottle of water that the vacant looking Chad had brought over for him. Jay, what can I say to make you feel better?”
“Say you’ll have dinner with me?” Jared peeked at him from under his lashes, piteous look front and center on his mobile features.
Smirking, Jensen cuffed him on the back of the head. “Dunno what makes you think that we’ll be out of here in time for dinner, but okay.”
Jared gave a squeal that would have done justice to one of his teenaged fans and flung his arms around Jensen, pressing a succession of kisses to his face. “Yes! You will! I’ll win you over yet. You deserve me, because you’re super-hot.”
Jensen wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Jared was right, of course. He knew he was hot, but he wasn’t sure about the deserving Jared thing. That might take some thought.
He didn’t get the chance to answer, because Jared started to speak again. “Jensen, do you like apple pie?”
“I love apple pie.” Jensen was sure of that.
Jared favored him with another of his beaming smiles and nodded as if he’d known what the answer must be. “Me too,” he murmured. “I have an extensive collection. Once we know each other better, you really must come and see it.”
As they broke for an hour to await the arrival of Ms. McCoy, Jensen had to admit to himself that maybe it was going to take time to get to grips with Jared, but he had definitely decided to give it a try. After all, one had to keep the talent happy, didn’t one?
Title: "All in a Day's Work"
Word Count: 6940
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warning: Clif
Beta: My beloved and trusty spoonlessone
Disclaimer: This bears no resemblance to any person living or dead, and is an attempt at humor.
Author's notes: Other thanks go to jennylynneh, who mocks me mercilessly and suggests apalling ideas which I then take up and use. The story is for chash, who entertains me with her very prolific works, and I do hope this is what you were looking for in a fic.
“Get her off the set!” The shrill voice pierced the air as Jensen walked onto the sound stage. This was it; his big chance. Here he was in Vancouver, Canada, at the Warner Brothers’ studio; it was a dream come true at last.
He’d been warned that there had been some disruption to the production during the previous season, but nothing had warned him to prepare for missiles. He barely had time to dodge to the side as a large mug, spilling coffee as it flew, shot by him to smash against the heavy door behind him, showering him indiscriminately with shards of porcelain and scalding hot dark roast.
As all eyes turned towards him, Jensen Ackles wondered if he’d made the right choice when he’d signed on to take over as director for the second season of “Two Left Feet.” The show had amazed everyone the previous year, coming from nowhere as it had to take over the top spot on all the polls and earning Emmy nods for cast and production staff alike. He should have known it was too good to be true when Walt Withers, who had been the director for the entire first season had gone into rehab without warning and who was now apparently barricaded into his room and refusing to come out in case the suits dragged him back to fulfil his contract.
Mindful of the the fact that he hadn’t actually seen where the missile had originated, he drew a deep breath, plastered a winning smile onto his face and moved into the room, preparing himself to duck if necessary. The room had fallen quiet as he began to walk forward, and he reminded himself that he was the one who was responsible for getting this crowd of strangers working together and maintaining the place it had carved out for itself the previous year.
He drew a breath and was about to speak when the voice he’d heard as he entered went on the air again. “She’s still here. Why is she still here?”
Happy to have been given a clue, Jensen finally managed to locate the speaker, and a feeling of dread descended on him. Jared Padalecki, red faced and scowling, was apparently not only the source of the voice that had split the air so thoroughly, he was obviously the source of the missile that had so nearly taken his head off, and he looked as though he was winding up to start hurling more missiles.
Jared was standing beside the craft services table, and was reaching for a stack of side plates as Jensen walked towards him. Jensen had heard a little about Jared. The man was notoriously high maintenance, but his popularity was such that the studio to date had been prepared to give him whatever he asked for. Since he had been much of the reason for the show becoming a hit, Jensen felt that now would not be a good time to initiate conflict.
Mentally shaking his head, he strode towards Padalecki, extending his hand and smiling with as much sincerity as he could muster. “You must be Jared,” he said.
“Must I?” Jared didn’t seem impressed if the way he was ignoring Jensen’s approach was anything to go on, and, as Jensen watched, his fingers twitched around one of the plates.
“I’m pleased to meet you at last. I’ll be relying on you to help me keep the show at the top of the ratings now that Walt is out of the picture.”
That caught Jared’s attention at last, and he abandoned the plate, straightening up to look at Jensen at last, the scowl still tracing angry lines between his eyebrows. There was a moment’s pause, and then, miraculously, the storm clouds faded, and the beginnings of a smile revealed a set of teeth so perfect that the dentist who had crafted them must have long since retired to a villa in Tuscany, secure in the knowledge that he had achieved perfection.
The smile widened, revealing a set of dimples that bracketed a smile like that of the Cheshire cat, and Jensen stared, transfixed, at the man who stood in front of him.
“Well, hello.” Jared was the first to speak, and it felt to Jensen as though the world had been frozen for a moment, all of a sudden lurching back into life. He swallowed and held out his hand in a formal offer to shake.
The hand was taken and enveloped in a paw that eclipsed it, and Jensen, by no means short, found himself looking up into a pair of intense hazel eyes that were tip-tilted and fox-like. “I’m Jensen,” he said, voice catching a little as he swallowed back his nerves.
“Hi, Jensen.” Jared was still holding his hand, and Jensen tugged a little in an attempt to recapture control of it. He failed.
“Can you get that wretched woman off the set, please?” Jared fixed him with an imploring gaze. “Every day she puts the bacon on the same part of the plate as the eggs, and today she dumped hash browns on the top of it. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Ummm…” was Jensen’s intelligent reply as he finally succeeded in regaining his hand, slightly squashed but only a little the worse for wear. He wasn’t altogether sure what Jared was talking about, but he could recognize a minefield when he came across one. “How about I sort it out after we do the read through?”
“You promise?” Jared’s smile seemed to widen, although Jensen wasn’t at all sure how that might be possible.
“I promise,” murmured Jensen. “I’ll sort it out.”
Jared turned away and for another plate, beginning to load it with breakfast foods, meticulously ensuring that at no time at all did any one food touch another.
“You know he’s quite insane?” The lisping voice sounded from behind Jensen, and he turned swiftly to discover a diminutive brunette making stabbing motions with her fork towards Jared.
“What?” Jensen was beginning to think he’d stumbled into Bizarro world or something of that type. Nothing was quite making sense.
“Padadickhead. He’s nuts. You’ll see. He has to turn around three times whenever he hits his mark, and touch the door frame over his head when he goes through a door, and he can’t eat salad with dressing on it. He gets the dressing on the side and eats it separately, and…” The newcomer’s face contorted in an expression of disgust at what she was saying, and she stabbed her fork towards Jared again. “He makes me want to pour the syrup all over him, just to see if he would explode.”
“It sounds as if you and he aren’t cut out to be friends then,” murmured Jensen brightly. He was about to ask her name when a female voice called out, “Genevieve, you’re wanted in make-up,” and with a sinking feeling it dawned on Jensen that this angry little woman was Jared’s co-star, and love interest on the show. Fuck! “You… er… dance beautifully together,” he said as she directed one last snarl in Jared’s general direction.
Genevieve fixed him with a cold stare. “Don’t ever speak to me again,” she growled, turning and heading off towards the makeup trailer.
“Well, that went well,” Jensen said to himself as he went in search of his director of photography. He found the man he was seeking sitting in a corner against one of the coils of cable, curled into a crumpled heap as he sobbed his eyes out. Surveying the scene, Jensen’s jaw dropped and he almost turned tail and fled. He was beginning to think he’d inadvertently fallen down the rabbit hole, or maybe there was a camera trained on him from some secret location, and he was being punk’d.
That was it. Nodding to himself, Jensen squared his shoulders and approached the weeping man. “Uh… hello?” he said, in the kind of voice he would usually reserve for injured bunny rabbits or terminally ill relatives. “I’m Jensen. Can we discuss the lighting for this morning’s shoot?”
Drowned blue eyes turn on him, wide and watery. “Oh, thank God you’re here. Did you know that the baby beluga died?” Fresh tears welled up in the man’s eyes, and a sob escaped him. “It’s a tragedy. How can we stop it before more die?”
“Baby beluga?” Jensen frowned, completely at sea. “What baby beluga is that? Is there an episode about a whale coming up?”
“Don’t you know anything?” The DoP threatened to burst into renewed sobs, when Jensen was shoved to one side, and a tiny redhead dug her elbow into him as he stumbled to one side.
“Get a grip, Misha,” she screamed and slapped the weeping man repeatedly around the head, loud, meaty blows that echoed through the sound stage and made Jensen wince in sympathy.
Oddly, the assault seemed to be what was needed, and the man shook himself and rose to his feet. Jensen turned to say something to the redhead, but she was already half way across the room, yelling orders at the top of her lungs. For a moment, he stood, indecisive, and then finally shook his head and turned to the Director of Photography and began to go through the shots he wanted to get that morning.
Once he’d determined that Misha was actually competent to perform his duties, and in fact actually surprisingly insightful, full of suggestions for how to achieve interesting shots, Jensen relaxed a little. By the time they were ready to start shooting, he was beginning to feel that he could do this.
The read through went without further weirdness, and Jensen began to relax. Jared insisted on sitting beside him, but that was okay. He appeared to have a good handle on his character, and while he was a little uneasy at the way Genevieve was glaring at them both from across the table, he began to feel as though the show would work out.
Once the read-through was completed to his satisfaction, Jensen ushered them out onto the sound stage to start shooting the first scene. Jared’s stand-in took up his position while the cameraman measured out distances for his shots, and then it was time for rehearsal. Jared stepped up to his mark, looked at it and shrieked.
“What the…?” Jensen frowned, completely confused by the performance. He was left in doubt no longer.
“It’s the wrong color!” Jared was purple with rage. “I can’t use that.”
“Wrong color?” Jared may have thought he’d explained his problem, but Jensen was having trouble assimilating the concept. “What’s the wrong color?”
“The tape. I need the green tape. That’s not green, it’s blue.” Jared was hyperventilating now, and Jensen could see Genevieve sitting in her chair, sharpening a knife as she fixed Jared with her malevolent stare. The redhead - Jensen had ascertained from Sebastian, the man wielding the clapper board that she was an assistant producer called Danni - zoomed in on Jared, palm up and ready to strike, and there was a cry of “Nooo!”
Misha, his director of photography, Emmy nominee and artistic genius, burst into tears again. “Don’t hurt him. Can’t you see how much he’s suffering?”
Seconds later, both Misha and Jared were flat on their backs, and Danni was rubbing her knuckles thoughtfully.
“Was that necessary?” Jensen was wide eyed as he turned towards her.
“You want a piece of me?” Her voice was little-girly and sing-song, but the threat of violence sounded very real. He spread his hands as he backed away, absolutely positive that he didn’t, under any circumstances, want a piece of her.
Nodding in satisfaction, Danni retreated to wherever it was she had her lair, and Jensen turned back to try and get the mark changed so as to be acceptable to Jared, just as Jared flung himself at him and virtually climbed up him. “Save me?” he mumbled. “Don’t let her hit me again.”
Jensen flailed a little. Jared was clinging to him like a limpet, and he was not a lightweight. In fact, thought Jensen, it was rather like being assaulted by a bag full of rocks. He made up his mind to amp up his workout routine while he was working on this show.
He was finally rescued by a very odd looking man-mountain with a huge, droopy Zapata mustache, a shaven head, and an emerald green satin evening gown, artfully draped to reveal rather more hairy chest than was quite wholesome, and who appeared to be wearing a pair of size 15 Jimmy Choos.
“Get down, Jared.” The voice was basso profundo and offered no opportunity to compromise. “Gabe? Bring me a bunny.”
Jared slowly relinquished his stranglehold on Jensen’s neck as a diminutive man ran in clutching a large, albino rabbit. “Bunny?” murmured Jared, fixing Jensen with woebegone eyes.
“It sure looks that way,” nodded Jensen, who was still attempting to recover from the shock of the vision in emerald green. He blinked a couple of time, but it was still there, filling his eyes. The little gnome with the rabbit scampered up to them and held it aloft like a trophy, and Jared gazed at Jensen imploringly.
“You’ll have to tell him,” said the gnome. “You’re the director.”
Swallowing nervously, Jensen gave Jared a smile - or at least he hoped it was a smile and not a grimace - and nodded. “Go ahead,” he said in what he hoped was a strong, directorial voice. Jared reached for the rabbit and enfolded it in his arms, then retreated behind Jensen to pet his prize, leaving Jensen gaping wordlessly at the ones in front of him.
“You look confused.” The gnome seemed to come to a decision and stepped closer to Jensen. “Don’t worry. I’ve got just what you need.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle. “Tranquilizer? I’ve got Prozac, Xanax or Effexor. Name your poison.”
“Uh,” Jensen tried to find the words to ask this strange little person just what his role was, but the gnome himself pre-empted him. “You don’t have to choose now, but Walt always liked the Xanax. My name’s Gabe, and I’ll be your set designer today.”
“Hah!” The redhead with the mean right hook gave a sarcastic laugh. “He’s a gofer. Don’t listen to him, and, whatever you do, don’t sleep with your mouth open or he’ll steal the fillings from your teeth.”
“Ooh, you bitch.” Gabe turned around, apparently ready to take the discussion into the realms of physicality, but he was distracted by Jared, who had straightened up and was holding the rabbit out to Gabe.
“Thanks, dude. I feel much better now. Can I have the green tape now? I can’t use the blue.” Gabe smiled at him and took his rabbit. “Be right there, Jay-man. Don’t fret.” Turning, he made his way to the back of the sound stage and out the door, followed by the incredible hulk, who may have been wearing haute couture, but who was stumping along with an uncompromisingly masculine gait.
“What the hell was that?” Jensen pinched himself, wondering if he’d eaten some of those weird mushrooms in the soup he’d had earlier.
“Oh, that was Clif.” Jared appeared to be himself again, and he gave Jensen that dazzling smile, causing Jensen to inhale sharply, because this man was not only the hot, gorgeous star of the show he was about to direct - always supposing they could rustle up green masking tape for his marks - he was also, from Jensen’s observations, completely batshit insane. Jensen thought that would probably disqualify Jared from ever becoming his life partner, or even a one night stand.
“Okay. Clif. I get it.” He paused. “What the hell is Clif?” He waved his arms about in an attempt to describe just what it was that disturbed him about Clif. To his surprise, Jared burst into peals of laughter.
“Oh, I like you!” he said, slinging an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about Clif. He’s my driver. He’s only really disturbing when he wears his tutu.”
Gabe had rushed back with a reel of green masking tape, and now appeared to be about to replace Jared’s mark on the floor. A sleazy looking blond had shambled out after Gabe, and stood behind him, idly scratching his crotch and squinting at Jensen as if unsure whether he was a good thing or not. With a flourish, Gabe peeled away the offending blue tape and handed it to the blond, bending to apply the new, green mark. The blond peered at the hank of tape he’d been given and then absently stuffed it into his mouth and began to eat it.
“Gawd.” Jensen had been watching, fascinated as the blond chewed his way through the masking tape, but the new voice caused him to jump and then turn in the direction of the new voice. A man with a somewhat lived-in face, clad in a plum colored velvet smoking jacket with gold frogging on it stepped forward, waving a cigarette in a holder. “Can we just get to work?” he said, his English accent betraying more than a trace of North London. “I did Shakespeare in Oxford, Goddamnit! I played Richard III...there were 5 curtain calls! Now look at me!” He wrung his hands. “That I should be reduced to this! I am a thespian, ducky. Don’t you think we should stop all this tomfoolery and do a little acting, if that would please the rest of you.”
“Shut up, Sheppard!” The words were clipped, and there was a blur of movement as the redhead who had terrorized Jared raced in and dealt the complainant a roundhouse blow that felled him to the ground and left him unconscious. She smirked and blew on her fist, while assorted grips and lighting technicians gave her a round of applause, and Jared squeaked and ducked down behind Jensen again, clinging around his right thigh as if he were a life jacket.
Gabe had finished setting up Jared’s mark, and was straightening up now, while the blond had grabbed hold of Jensen’s script - he’d allowed his hand to fall to his side in his consternation at what had happened with the British actor he’d just seen assaulted - and was now browsing on it, taking huge bites and chewing with every evidence of enjoyment.
“Chad!” Gabe sounded shocked. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t touch the scripts.”
The man addressed as Chad nodded, a smirk on his face. “Was hungry.”
“Well, that settles it. You have to go back into the cage for now.”
Chad’s face fell. “But you said…”
“I know what I said, but you were bad.” Gabe pulled a taser and a cattle prod from somewhere about his person and began to drive the whining blond away from the cameras. “If I could trust you, I could let you pet my bunnies, but…” The door closed on the scolding voice, and Jensen peered over his shoulder at Jared, who was still cowering.
“Can we do a little work now?” Jensen’s voice was soft, and even to himself he sounded desperate, but Jared released his stranglehold on his right leg and rose to his feet again. As the circulation began to return to his limb, Jensen released a sigh of relief and began to set up the scene.
Amazingly, it went well. Both Jared and Genevieve did exactly what they were supposed to do, and after make-up had been applied to Mark Sheppard’s jaw, so did he, although he spent the time between takes commenting on how noble he was, and how he really deserved better than this.
There were no further major events during the day, and Gabe only had to bring in the bunny for Jared once more, when Danni stormed through the crowd to slap a pointy object out of Genevieve’s hands and growl in her face until the malevolent actress turned pale and fled.
Jared had hit his mark every time, and although he seemed to pale every time he had to dance with Genevieve, he demonstrated both competence and a growing trust in Jensen. Whenever Jensen looked at him, he found Jared watching him intently, eyes soft and yearning.
By the time Jensen called a wrap for the day it was dark, his nerves were jangling, and he was looking forward to retreating to the nearest bar and climbing inside a bottle of scotch. He was about to leave the set when the redhead, Danni, approached him, and it was all he could do not to gibber and back away.
“You’ll have to put your foot down,” she growled. “The poor rabbit is working too hard, and Genevieve is approaching that time of the month, so you know she’s only going to get worse.”
“Uh…” Jensen was acutely aware that he’d moved back far enough that his back was pressed against a flat. “What do you suggest?”
“You’ll have to have her searched on the way in every day for the next week. I can tell the signs.” She laid a hand on his arm and looked at him meaningfully. “Don’t let her have any nail files, and make sure the craft services people break out the plastic cutlery. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Why?” Surely , he reasoned, the actress couldn’t be that bad. For heaven’s sake, she looked as if she weighed about 80 lbs soaking wet. “What will she do?”
“Last time she got this bad, she rammed a knitting needle through the fleshy part of Walt’s thigh when he tried to get her to smile happily in the scene.” She gave a sigh. “Poor Walt. He was never the same after that.”
By this time Jensen had begun to appreciate Danni’s input. He gave her what he hoped was a smile rather than a grimace and hurried off to give the relevant orders to the caterers and the security team. Breathing a sigh of relief that he could now go and find that drink, he headed for his car. He had just bent to insert his key in the lock and pull the door to the driver’s seat open when he was grabbed from behind by a pair of very strong arms.
He was only human; he gave a girlie scream that could possibly have rivaled Mariah Carey when goosed by a cattle prod. There was a whimpering sound from behind him, but he wasn’t released. “Can I pet you? I want to pet you,” murmured a voice behind his ear, and all of a sudden it all became clear to him.
Jared was holding him. Jared was probably about to murder him horribly and feed him to the bunnies, or maybe to Genevieve. He swallowed. “Don’t…”
“Bzuh?” asked Jared, intelligent to the last. He relaxed his grip a little, and Jensen took the opportunity to wiggle out of his clutches and turn to face him. It was a cold evening, and there was the beginnings of a frost that lent the air a crisp, sharp clarity it usually lacked. There was a faint, cold breeze blowing, and it slid vagrant through Jared’s hair, blowing it over his forehead and into his eyes and making him look impossibly young and incredibly sexy.
Jensen frowned. The man was a complete lunatic, and it would not do for Jensen to fall for him - in fact that was the very last thing he should do. However, the moon was a silver dollar in the sky, frosting the planes and angles of Jared’s cheekbones and turning them to liquid silver, and he wasn’t sure he could hold himself to that.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jensen frowned. “Please don’t eat me?” he murmured, wondering whether he was actually starting to blend in with the show’s weird crew. It would be sad to think he’d flipped over the railings this fast, but it was something he needed to keep an eye on.
“I like you, Jensen.” Jared’s gaze was hooded, hard to fathom in the ghostlight, and Jensen frowned.
“Well, I like you too,” he murmured. “But I don’t like it when someone grabs hold of me without warning. That scares me.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jared let go of him and stepped back. “I thought…” He paused, frowning, and then his face cleared and he beamed. “Shall we go do the casting couch now?”
Jensen’s eyes opened wide. “That’s quite okay, Jared. You already got the part.”
“But… it would be awesome.” Jared fixed Jensen with an imploring look that reminded him of Puss in Boots from Shrek, doing its best to convince people of its innocence.
“It probably would, Jay, but it’s not going to happen.” Jensen shook his head and turned back to unlock his car. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix work and personal stuff.” He smiled apologetically as he climbed in behind the wheel and prepared to leave. As he pulled out of the lot he saw Jared droop visibly, and his journey home was fraught with questions that he just couldn’t answer.
~~~
The following day, Jensen was on the set early to meet with his crew bearing a number of questions to which he wanted answers. Danni, whose name actually was Danneel, turned out to be the on-site producer. She greeted him with a smirk.
“You came back, then,” she said. “Collins, that’s $20 you owe me.”
There were sobs from the corner where the camera man was sitting, but he fumbled for his wallet anyway and handed over a crumpled and somewhat moist banknote. “Enjoy it while you can. Money won’t compensate for anything when the earth goes up in flames, you know.”
Rolling her eyes, Danni made for the coffee machine and poured herself a cup, and Jensen followed, drawn by the scent of it. Reaching for a mug, he took the carafe from Danni with a mumbled thank you.
They were just winding up the details for shooting for the day when the cast began to drift in. Genevieve was the first, stomping in with her hair in curlers and a bag that clinked suspiciously hanging over her shoulder. “Hair and makeup, Gen,” called Danni as she slouched through the door.
The response was muttered, and therefore thankfully inaudible, but it certainly sounded violent to Jensen. She turned to follow Samantha, her personal make-up artist, obediently enough, and Danni rose to her feet to follow her, murmuring, “Just going to relieve her of all the hardware.”
The next to arrive was Mark Sheppard, and he too was detailed off to make-up. He went, muttering direly about the way things were done around there. As Danni, who had emerged from the makeup trailer with her arms full of knives, skewers and one ice pick, pointed wordlessly towards the make-up trailer, Mark turned to glower at her. “I am a THESPIAN, ducky," he growled. “I’ve worked with Larry and Ian and Vanessa. You can’t intimidate me.”
He took off sharply when Danneel raised a fist and moved menacingly towards him. Jensen was beginning to value her persuasive methods. As she returned to her place near him, he murmured softly, “What can we do about Jared? The man seems to need a little help.”
“He does seem to have a few extra screws loose at the moment, yes.” She gave Jensen a perky smile. “I’ll give Dr. Ritching a call. He always knows what to do.”
He would have inquired further about Dr. Ritching, but at that moment there was a bellow of, “Jared,” from the corridor outside, and the man himself shot through the door and rushed to Jensen’s side, where he stood nervously hopping from foot to foot, his hands twitching.
“What’s the matter with you, big guy?” Jensen quirked an eye at him, wondering if he needed permission to go to the bathroom. Frankly he wouldn’t put it past Jared after the shenanigans of the previous day.
“Jensen does not like to be grabbed,” gabbled the man himself. “Hello. Hi Jensen, it’s good to see youcanIhugyouplease?”
“I suppose…” Jensen didn’t get any further than that before he was engulfed in the kind of hug that made him wonder if he would ever be able to breathe again, or if his ribcage had permanently collapsed. He was just beginning to see his life flashing in front of his very eyes when the bellowing voice from earlier once again went on the air.
“Jared!”
Releasing his prey, Jared jumped back a step, allowing Jensen to gulp in a breath. He was about to take another when the owner of the voice stepped around the corner and into the room and completely put a stop to the whole inhaling thing Jensen had going on.
“Go to wardrobe!” The stentorian order emanated from a sight that Jensen was pretty sure would scar him for life. The creature that had worn green satin the previous day was this morning clad in a tight black rubber mini dress, with slutty, ripped fishnets and knee high purple patent leather boots with stiletto heels. Jared looked terrified as he shot off towards the wardrobe trailer, and Jensen wasn’t sure he blamed the poor man. If Genghis Khan had ever attempted to do an impression of Debbie Harry in her Blondie heyday, this would be it. He blinked, but when he reopened his eyes the vision was still there.
Danneel smirked and clapped him on the shoulder. “Be strong,” she said as she sauntered off, no doubt to beat up on some poor unsuspecting crew member.
Shooting began, and despite Jared discovering a need to say all his lines backward in rehearsal, before he could say them forward, it went very well. By the time they broke for lunch they were slightly ahead of schedule. Jensen was beginning to relax as he waited in line for his food, just as Richard, the hair stylist, came storming out of his trailer and seized Genevieve by the hair.
“Give it back, bitch!” he bellowed, shaking the small woman from side to side. Kane, the cook, stepped forward, uttering profanities and smote Richard on the head with his ladle.
“What the motherfuckin’ fuck are you fuckin’…”
“She stole my razor.” Richard had held onto Genevieve with a deathlike grip that threatened to yank Genevieve’s hair from her head.
“You got this fucker’s fuckin’ razor?” Kane thrust his face into Genevieve’s and snarled. Wordlessly, she fumbled in the pocket of the frothy tulle dance dress she was wearing and pulled out a straight-edged razor, holding it out with a hand that was visibly trembling.
Snatching the thing from her hand, Kane studied it. “Fuckin’ sharp,” he growled. “Fuck!”
Genevieve made a face at Kane’s retreating back and then stomped away mumbling. Richard stalked after Kane. “My razor, mine!” he said, striking a pose with one hand on his hip. “You’re a dear, sweet man to help me like that, but I need it. Jeffrey Dean is due in, and I can’t do a thing about his five-o-clock shadow without that razor.”
Kane turned, snarled at Richard as he studied it, and finally handed the razor over. “Fuckin’ fairy!” he said and headed back to dispense more soup, leaving the rest of them to try and distinguish who exactly the fuckin’ fairy might be.
While this drama had been going on, Jared had made a bee-line for Jensen, huddling close to him as he methodically picked all the snow peas out of his stir fry. “You okay, Jay?” Jensen gave him an encouraging smile. Jared returned it, offering him a dimpled grin that could have graced the most exacting toothpaste ad.
“Okay now,” he said. “You’ll save me from her; I know that now.”
“Why does she hate you?” asked Jensen, frowning.
“Been like that ever since we got married,” said Jared. “She thinks I’m pond scum.”
“That seems a little harsh. Why did she marry you, if she thinks that?” Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Didn’t follow her Jared improvement program,” Jared replied. “It was too hard.”
Jensen was about to ask what that entailed, but all of a sudden there was a booming laugh, and a dark, ruggedly handsome man pirouetted into the midst of the company and did a couple of pliés and an arabesque. “Hello, my lovelies,” he trilled. “Did you miss me?”
“It’s Jeff,” confided Jared, beaming. “He looks really good in tights.”
“I bet you’ll look pretty good in them too,” murmured Jensen.
“Gen says I have chicken legs,” Jared replied. He’d finished all the peas and moved on to the peppers, concentrating on piling all the red ones up in the corner of his container while eating the green ones.
“Nonsense.” Jensen finished his meal and rose to his feet. “See you when you get out of wardrobe. I’m looking forward to seeing you in the tights.”
He made his way back to the craft table to pick up some dessert to take with him, and averted his eyes as the PA, Chad, lifted one of the empty cartons and took an enormous bite from it. Grabbing a couple of cupcakes Jensen made himself scarce.
He was on the set in the local theater with Collins, getting the lighting set up for the ballet scene that was the climax of the season opener, when Jared’s mini-clad driver approached him, leading a slender, fragile looking blonde with long red fingernails and a knowing smirk. “There he is. See what I mean?” The driver’s walrus moustache bristled as he spoke, and to Jensen’s fascinated eye it seemed to have a life of its own.
“Oh, yes; I do see.” The blonde clasped her hands together over her heart and nodded fervently. “I’ll measure him up right now. He’ll look stunning.”
At this point, Jensen decided he had better intervene. “Hey now, what’s all this?”
“Clif here thinks you’d look really special in a cheong sam. I’m inclined to agree with him. You have the legs for it.” The blonde flashed him a smile, and Jensen’s eyes opened wide.
“A what?” was his intelligent reply.
“A cheong sam,” she repeated. “It’s one of those Chinese dresses that has the split up the side. High, mandarin collar and…”
“Absolutely not.” Jensen had always believed that ‘blood running cold’ was a figure of speech, but the words he’d just heard seemed to have produced that very effect. He shuddered. “Out of the question.” He folded his arms and jerked his chin down with a decided air of rejection.
“But Katie thinks…”
“I said no!” Jensen was adamant, and whatever it was that Katie thought would never be heard, because Misha, who had been busily filming this interchange, stepped forward.
“Begone, foul fiend,” he intoned. “You’re seriously interfering with my personal vibrations.”
Katie appeared to be considering violence, but Clif took her arm and began to back away. As he went, he shook his head sadly at Jensen. “We could have been so good together,” he said, sorrow infusing his tone. “But somehow I will carry on.”
Turning back to Misha, Jensen smiled his gratitude, and Misha gave him a peace sign as they returned to work.
~~~
The cast was assembled for the final beat of the episode, in which Jared would finally succeed in performing the pas de deux which had been the focus for the plot. Jensen thought Jared looked rather good in the white tights and tunic that covered him completely while revealing every contour and bulge on his body. One particular, magnificent bulge drew his attention as if hauling it in on a string. The man had a serious package down there, and Jensen’s mouth was watering as he tried not to stare at it. Sure, Jared was weird, and had a few OCD behaviors, but he was also smoking hot, and appeared to like Jensen a lot.
As the scene progressed, everything was going well. Genevieve looked graceful in her sparkling white tutu and diamante headdress although there had been a brief uncomfortable moment when Sebastian, the man wielding the clapper, had called out, “Scene 32 take 3 and brought the clapper down on Genevieve’s left breast, causing a brief but violent scene until Danni had intervened, laying him out with one well aimed uppercut.
Jeff, blue chin shaved smooth as a baby’s bottom, leapt and twirled in gay abandon across the stage as he performed his part as the kidnapper of princess Genevieve. Very gay abandon, was Jensen’s thought, although he had to commend the man on his pas de chat. His whole air was magnificent. Jensen was really happy with the way things were going. Each scene was moving on like clockwork.
The moment of truth arrived, and Jared, who had been waiting in the wings, danced onto the stage and plucked Genevieve into their first lift, raising her high above his head in effortlessly graceful fashion. Misha panned the camera back as they twirled together, and Jared set her down in preparation for the next movement.
At that moment, Genevieve gave a screech and pulled a stiletto out from somewhere in her bodice, raising it with a snarl on her face as she rushed towards Jared.
Jensen could only look on with horror as she bore down on her partner, evidently intent on ending him once and for all. Jared fell back a couple of steps, his face as pale as his costume, and it appeared that Jensen was about to lose his leading man. All of a sudden there came a yodeling sound, and a slender figure, long red hair trailing out behind her like a cloak, swooped down on a rope in a manner reminiscent of Tarzan, cannoning into Genevieve and knocking her ass over tea kettle.
The knife went flying, and the very quick thinking Jeff, who had been watching the goings on with horror, dove forward to grab it, before Genevieve could recover it.
Following that, there was pandemonium. Several of the crew members held Genevieve motionless, while Misha called for Gabriel to bring the strait-jacket, a call that made Jensen blink.
“You keep a strait-jacket on the set?” he asked Jensen, wondering if that was just this particular set, or if it was standard procedure for all TV sets.
“Oh, yeah. Need it for when the bunnies don’t work,” nodded Danni, who by this time had descended from her rope and was peeling off the leather gloves she had worn for the job.
“Well, thank you,” he murmured, a little uncertain of what the etiquette was in situations where the leading lady had narrowly missed making kebabs out of her leading man.
“Just go be nice to Jay,” she said, taking in his confusion and offering him a practical direction to take. “I think he’s a little shaken.”
Casting a glance over at Jared, Jensen could see what she meant. He climbed up onto the stage and rushed over to where the lanky actor was still vibrating like a tuning fork. “You okay, Jay?” he asked, reaching to pat Jared’s shoulder. Jared’s face crumpled, and he flung himself into Jensen’s arms.
“I don’t want to do this any more,” he whimpered. “She wants to kill me.”
“It’s okay, Jay. I think we need to fire her and get someone who isn’t homicidal to take over.” Jensen patted his back in a soothing manner as he attempted to calm the jittery man. Mentally he was wincing. This would probably mean re-shooting everything they’d done to date.
“McCoy’s her understudy. We always retain one, because Gen’s so… volatile. If you want, Clif can go get her; she’s at the hotel,” announced Danneel, furiously working her iPad as she messaged the studio back in LA.
“Do it. It’s perfectly obvious that Genevieve needs treatment somewhere nice and quiet.” He led Jared over to a corner of the auditorium, had him sit down and handed him the bottle of water that the vacant looking Chad had brought over for him. Jay, what can I say to make you feel better?”
“Say you’ll have dinner with me?” Jared peeked at him from under his lashes, piteous look front and center on his mobile features.
Smirking, Jensen cuffed him on the back of the head. “Dunno what makes you think that we’ll be out of here in time for dinner, but okay.”
Jared gave a squeal that would have done justice to one of his teenaged fans and flung his arms around Jensen, pressing a succession of kisses to his face. “Yes! You will! I’ll win you over yet. You deserve me, because you’re super-hot.”
Jensen wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Jared was right, of course. He knew he was hot, but he wasn’t sure about the deserving Jared thing. That might take some thought.
He didn’t get the chance to answer, because Jared started to speak again. “Jensen, do you like apple pie?”
“I love apple pie.” Jensen was sure of that.
Jared favored him with another of his beaming smiles and nodded as if he’d known what the answer must be. “Me too,” he murmured. “I have an extensive collection. Once we know each other better, you really must come and see it.”
As they broke for an hour to await the arrival of Ms. McCoy, Jensen had to admit to himself that maybe it was going to take time to get to grips with Jared, but he had definitely decided to give it a try. After all, one had to keep the talent happy, didn’t one?