NC-17 | Got a Reflection with a Different Name
Title: Got a Reflection with a Different Name.
:Rating: NC-17 - porns!
Words: 4,600
Summary: It's Dean Winchester's birthday, and Jared's gonna make sure it's one he never forgets.
Notes: Err, thank aldehyde for even mentioning Dean-birthday-Wincesty fic. Blame my brain and the enabling of timehasa_way and neros_violin. I, uh, don't know, really, what happens here. But it's cracky for sure, and officially? This is the closest I ever get to Wincest. Title and cut from John Mayer's song of the same name.
When Jensen woke, it was any other Sunday morning. Or so he thought. Because the second his foot dropped from the very last step to the first floor carpet, he caught something buttery and sweet in the air. And then he saw the banner and balloons. As he entered the kitchen, he grabbed the streamers at eye level and yanked them down with a sigh.
That’s when Jared turned from the stove. “Hey.”
“Jared.”
“Look, I know what you’re gonna say.”
“Jared,” he groaned as he sat at the island, elbows on the counter and head in his hands. “Not again.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Jared looked at him oddly and his voice was strangely level, restrained even. “Your birthday?”
Jensen scrubbed his face then kept his hands over his mouth. “No, it is not my birthday.”
Jared pushed a few pans around the stove and flipped the ranges off. “Dude, you don’t have to feel bad about your age- ”
“Which is the same as it was yesterday.”
His voice kept going as he moved around the kitchen to grab orange juice and plates and napkins. “But another year older? Another year you survived.”
“Fuck me,” Jensen groaned.
Jared stopped and stared, and the steady gaze was troubling, because it really wasn’t Jared’s. “What’s wrong?”
Jensen looked up. “I can’t do this without coffee.” Soon enough, Jared put a mug down and poured piping hot coffee as Jensen waited. Then waited some more until he asked, “Cream and sugar?”
“Since when?”
He sighed. “Since always. C’mon.”
Jared put the two containers in front of Jensen. “Don’t have to get grouchy.”
“I do. I insist on a real day off and not this stupid- ”
“Okay, so I know you don’t wanna make a big deal about this. But really, you only have one birthday a year. But I got some of your favorites. Steak and eggs. Sausage.”
“Jared,” he sighed. “Seriously. Just stop.”
His head dipped down as he moved around the kitchen and sounded sheepish. “Got a pie. Well a couple. Didn’t know which you had a taste for.”
Jensen looked up, only a little interested. “Pie?”
Jared broke a tiny smirk, but he tempered it instantly. “Yeah, well, it is your birthday.” He moved back to the counter and flipped the radio and Led Zeppelin immediately blared through the speakers.
Jensen rolled his eyes but settled in for the breakfast Jared put before him. It smelled fantastic, but it looked like it had been rolled in a pound of lard. “What is this?” he muttered with his hands motioning over his plate.
There was no answer except for the music to go even louder, and for Jared to start murmuring with the opening of Immigrant Song.
“Jesus Christ,” Jensen complained with a roll of his eyes.
“I can put Stairway to Heaven on next,” Jared suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders and face. He then dug right into his plate of greasy eggs, potatoes, bacon, and sausage, nodding to the beat of the music drowning out any other possible sounds in the room.
Jensen rose and stalked to the radio, flipping it off with a sigh, and then settled back at the island to eat some toast. Toast he could do, eggs dripping in grease he could not. “Why do we have to do this again?” he asked as he dabbed the bacon with his napkin.
“’Cause i’s your bir-day,” Jared mumbled through his chewing.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Denial won’t help,” he said while shoveling more eggs into his already half-full mouth.
Jensen put his napkin down and steeled himself to be as direct as possible. “Jared,” he started, covering Jared’s hand with his own and squeezing. “I don’t know if you realize this, but we are actors.”
Jared kept on eating.
“And we play characters on a TV show.”
And he still chewed on.
“It is not my birthday. It is Dean’s birthday.”
“Your birthday, yeah,” he nodded with a smile.
Jensen spoke clearly, slowly, and a bit gruffly. “I am not Dean. And it is not my birthday.”
Jared’s eyebrows rose and he broke character long enough to say, “You so just sounded like him.”
He sighed and tossed his hands out before grabbing his fork. “It’s official. You are damaged.”
“Hmm,” Jared sounded with a small snort while ripping off a big bite of toast with aggressive teeth.
It was quiet for most of breakfast as they ate and sipped coffee and orange juice. At one point, Jared turned the radio back on, but this time at a lower level and purposely found “Ramble On,” which Jensen nearly grumbled at. But then he stopped and hummed to bits of it. In addition to it being Dean Winchester’s favorite song, it was one Jensen liked, too. He’d take this little bit of absurdity for now.
Once Jared was done with his food, he put the plates into the sink, even snatching Jensen’s before he was finished and ignoring Jensen’s quiet complaints. “We got a schedule to keep.”
Jensen rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right. How could I forget?”
“You need a shower?”
“Where we going?” he asked with a critical eye.
Jared answered flippantly, “Sooner you get ready, sooner we can leave.”
Jensen took a long breath in and released it noisily. “You know, this got old two years ago.”
Jared tipped his head to the side. “Dude, you have a birthday every year. Why is this a surprise?” When Jensen didn’t answer, he said, ““I’ll meet you out front,” and grabbed a knapsack off the dining room table and marched out the front door.
A shower, shave, and new clothes later, Jensen opened the front door and tsked in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me, man?”
Jared shifted from leaning to standing next to the Impala. “What? You wanna drive? I was gonna offer to drive. Chauffeur for your birthday.”
“Seriously?” Jensen squawked and then followed it with a stern, “Seriously. No. We’re not doing this.”
“What?” Jared asked while shrugging with high shoulders. “I know you’re not comfortable with this. But we just gotta … Look, I’m just, I wanted to do something nice. You know? We’ve had a rough time since, well, since hell and on the hunt for Lucifer. Just thought it’d be nice to have a break. It’s your birthday.”
Jensen balled his hands into fists and pushed them into the air. He held his breath and scratched the back of his head while trying to figure it all out. So ridiculous, so, so, ridiculous and he had no idea how to stop Jared from being such an idiot. “Jared, this is … you have a problem. I don’t know what your point here is, but. Seriously, you can’t do this.”
“What?”
“You stole the Impala!”
“I didn’t,” Jared started while looking at the car. “I didn’t steal anything.”
After a long breath and a quick run over the possibilities for the rest of this day, Jensen asked as calmly as possible. “I do this and you’ll stop, right? You’ll go back to being Jared?”
Jared gave a typical Sam shruggy-face and looked rather pathetically lost in the conversation, so Jensen let out a muttered, “Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” and went for the Impala’s passenger side, getting in without another word.
He was silent for the ride, too, not commenting or caring on what music Jared played - well really, he absolutely cared, because Jared was blaring Bon Jovi. And if there was just one shared characteristic between Jensen and Dean it was that they both fucking hated Bon Jovi.
Jensen took to the window, catching the moving landscape and admiring one of the good things about being exiled to Vancouver: the scenery. He was actually taken by one particular clearing where the road split off and a small gravel drive led to an overlook along a lake. And it seemed that Jared was also favoring it because he pulled off and turned the car off. As Jensen got out and admired the view, Jared stopped at the trunk and came back with two beers, passing one over.
With a smirk and a snort, Jensen took the bottle but then winced at the label. Pilsner. Not great. Especially when he normally favored Alexander Keith’s every other day of the week. “Jared, ” he started with complaint, but then stopped when he saw the closed look on Jared’s face, how he tucked one hand into his pocket and stared at his foot kicking gravel around. “Hey, what’s up?”
Jared leaned back on the Impala and crossed his ankles while looking onto the lake and taking a sip. “You ever get tired of this?”
Jensen stared back, trying to hide his annoyance and waiting for Jared to continue. Even if it was obvious that he wouldn’t drop the act and was now forcing him into a typical Sam and Dean share-and-care moment.
“Tired of doing this?”
“All the time,” Jensen replied dryly, thinking of the last four ‘birthdays’ they’d celebrated,
“I mean, what’re we gonna do in twenty years? Thirty? What d’you think the future really is for us?”
Jensen took a sip and grimaced at the gritty taste. God, he hated cheap beer. “Don’t know about you, but I plan on being poolside in the sun every day.”
He sighed and gave one of Sam’s pissy looks. “I’m being serious.”
“Oh, I can tell,” he mumbled to the top of his bottle and took another gulp.
Jared picked at the top of his beer bottle and spoke gently. “You ever think about how different it would be? If you didn’t come get me? If Dad’d never gone missing?”
“No,” he answered with a tired shake of his head. “I’ve never once considered it. Because it didn’t really happen.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Jensen stared and waited for him to continue.
Jared gestured with the bottle towards him. “I mean, it was obviously meant to be. Dad ran off for a reason.” His face went through a fluid range of thoughtful emotions and then he said, “It’s almost like Dad always wanted us to be together. Like he wanted you to come get me from school. Be out on the road together. Again.”
Jensen leaned heavily on the Impala, sighed, and looked straight up the sky while muttering more obscenities under his breath. This was so not worth it. Not for the fifth year in a row. First year? Okay, funny and cute because Jared was like a little puppy and always jumping at the chance to play tricks on everyone. And back then it had felt like a prank when he had the whole cast join up for a brief surprise party and gift Jensen with classic rock tapes “for the Impala.” The few years since, and most definitely this time, were not so much funny as rather pathetic and a giant waste of time. Jesus Jensen swore to himself. He really wanted to have this day to relax, instead of running around and spending it once again pretending to be Dean Winchester.
“Wonder if he knew this is where we’d end up. Apocalypse? Lucifer and Michael and all that?”
“Jared.”
“I’m just saying … wondering, really. If Dad knew what we were going up against.”
“Don’t have the same dad,” Jensen muttered into his beer while drinking.
Jared went right on like Jensen hadn’t said anything out of context. “If he knew, you think he’d still have dealt with the demon? He would’ve found another way to save you.”
“Wish he’d save me now.”
Suddenly, Jared cleared his throat and his voice broke, catching Jensen’s full attention. “If he would’ve stuck around, if he didn’t just give in to deal, he could’ve been here for everything else. Keep you from hell. Me from the demon blood.”
“Okay, you know what?” Jensen spit out quickly while standing up and waving his beer around. It took one more second to think it through and he decided he’d play along just long enough to get them back home and to placate Jared. “Not an issue. Not an issue at all. Because Dad’s gone and we’re here now. We’re doing this and that’s all there is to it, okay? We just gotta move forward and keep going and that’s all we’ve got. This war and each other.” Jared gave a small, relieved smile at the words, and then Jensen huffed, “Fuck,” and turned away.
“No, you’re right,” Jared said resolutely.
“Don’t I know it,” Jensen sighed into his beer, finishing the bottle and tossing it into a brush of wild plants. “We ready?”
Jared awkwardly smiled and then nodded before downing the rest of his beer. “Yeah, we’re good.”
The ride back was even more awkward but Jensen was at least satisfied with the knowledge that they were going back to the house. Except they weren’t, because Jared pulled into a gas station even when, from where Jensen could see, the Impala had a good half tank of gas. “What’s up?”
“Just grabbing a few things, I’ll be back,” Jared said quickly, jumping from the car and heading into the mini-mart. He came back about five minutes later with a packed bag that he tucked into his lap.
“What’d you get?” Jensen asked strangely, because there was no way they honestly needed more than a gallon of milk from a gas station. “Jared, seriously. What’d you get?”
“Nothin’,” he mumbled with a tiny smile. “You’ll see when we get back.”
Jensen sighed and actually had to fight peeking at the bag for the next ten minutes and again just stared out the window until they pulled into the driveway of the house. When they got out, he shot Jared a look, but Jared wasn’t giving any more away and just marched right into the house. Jensen threw his hands in the air and followed.
In the kitchen was where it all got worse. Jared had laid out two paper bags and the main gas station bag was still on the counter but not as full as before. Jared smiled a little then nudged the two bags. “Happy birthday, man.”
Jensen eyed him as he neared but he had to admit that the curiosity was a bit overwhelming as he wondered what the hell Jared would’ve purchased at the gas station. But he really shouldn’t have spent so much energy thinking it over because he opened up the bags to find a handful of beef jerky in one and a couple issues of Asian Babes in the other. He stared at the items in his hand then up at Jared, unrelenting in his annoyed expression. And Jared was just as unrelenting in his tiny, expectant glance.
He put the items on the counter and smoothed a palm over the scantily clad woman on the porn magazine then planted the hand over her face so he didn’t have to look at her supposedly seductive gaze. “Jared.”
“You like?”
Jensen clucked his tongue to keep from saying anything awful, because Jared was putting in a performance of a lifetime. His face was slightly hopeful yet a little awkward, like he had felt just as uncomfortable buying the magazine as Sam would be, but also knew it would mean a lot to Dean. Jensen cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure, they’re great.”
“Awesome.”
“Can’t wait to use ‘em,” he shot out sarcastically. Jared chuckled then reached for the other bag but Jensen didn’t bother waiting to see what was there and instead marched to the fridge for a beer. In ten seconds, he had it opened and down the hatch, ignoring how it burned cold in his throat. He worked around the belch coming up and then grabbed another, figuring if nothing else, he’d get drunk and find a way to hate this day a little less. “Alright, what’s next?” he asked after drinking from a second beer.
“Got your favorite,” Jared said as he pulled out a foil-wrapped burger - nay, a double bacon cheeseburger. And then a few hot dogs.
Jensen looked them over then snorted. “People actually eat that shit?”
Jared gave a confused glance then rearranged the food, including bags of Funyons and Cheet-ohs. “Dude, you live off this stuff.”
He sighed and grabbed the burger anyway, pulling the foil halfway down and then staring at it. “I’m so gonna vomit when we’re done. You’re cleaning it up.”
They grazed over the food, taking bites here and there, handfuls of snacks, and downing beer after beer. Jensen was really making this birthday count.
“So, uh,” Jared started carefully. “You … you wanna watch the game?”
Jensen rolled his eyes, thinking back to a moment not unlike this very one where Sam and Dean celebrated Christmas. He cleared his throat then grabbed as many beers as he could manage in his hands and nodded to the living room.
There was no game on. At least not anything current, and Jared went so far as to comment, “These stations are awful,” as if there weren’t options like ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic,
NFL Network, a whole slew of MLB stations, and so many others from their gigantic cable package.
With a snort, Jensen dug into the couch cushions and kept on drinking.
They shared the beers, and it was near the end of a Super Bowl replay of the Bears and Patriots, which was a ridiculous blowout and, as far as Jensen was concerned, wholly unentertaining, that Jared wandered back into the kitchen. Jensen, bored and drunk, dumbly followed.
Jared turned from the fridge with Jensen right on him. “What’s up?” Jared asked awkwardly.
Jensen’s fingers curled into Jared’s white and pink patterned button down - God the thing was hideous - and pulled Jared closer. “Hey there,” he murmured with a sly smile.
He chuckled, obviously uncomfortable, and tried to move away. “You feeling okay?” Reaching for his neck, Jensen tried to pull Jared down to him, to bring his lips to his own, but Jared fought it. “Dude, what’re you doing?”
“C’mon, Jared,” Jensen nearly cooed, smoothing a palm over Jared’s cheek, through his hair, and to the back of his neck to, again, pull him down. He kept trying, fighting Jared’s denial, all in the name of being drunk and incredibly horny. Shit, if he had to deal with role playing all day long, he was as least going to get some ass out of the deal.
Jared still chuckled strangely and kept his face high and away from Jensen’s. “Okay, maybe you should just go to bed.”
Jensen gave up on Jared’s face and instead latched onto his neck, sucking and licking along the skin, teasing the muscle with his teeth. “C’mon, J. S’my birthday.”
“Um, no, c’mon, this is wrong.”
“Don’t wanna be right,” he murmured against Jared’s collarbone, smiling at the skin as Jared’s fight wanes.
“No, it’s not right. You’re my brother.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Jensen seethed, grabbing at Jared’s crotch and rubbing quickly.
“No, c’mon,” he lamely argued, moving right into Jensen’s hand. “I … you, you don’t know … don’t know what you’re doing,” he rambled on with his head falling and resting against Jensen’s. “This is so wrong.”
Jensen expertly undid Jared’s belt and jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. One hand held Jared’s ass, fingers teasing along his crack, while the other grabbed his dick, already hard. “C’mon baby,” Jensen soothed as he stroked Jared, pulling his body closer with every movement.
“God, no, we can’t.”
“Yes, yes we can.”
“No, no,” he weakly contended as Jensen’s finger edged his hole, calloused finger rubbing the rim.
Jensen nudged his head along to Jared’s until he found his mouth and kissed him wet and lazy, tongues rolling together.
“It’s incest, Jen.”
He finally laughed as Jared lost his place in the story, let the charade slip, and kissed him back in earnest. Jared’s large hands bracketed Jensen’s face to direct him in each way possible, fighting to find the angle where he could reach the deepest space of Jensen’s mouth.
“God,” Jared whispered as he pulled back. “Wait, wait, hang on.” He pushed Jensen just a few inches away, enough that Jensen stopped touching him. Jensen sighed, close to breaking and just tearing Jared up for the entire day. But then Jared reached under Jensen’s shirt and pulled it up over his head. He dropped messy kisses along Jensen’s chest, twirling the nipples under his tongue and lips while he unlatched Jensen’s belt, unbuttoned the pants, pushed them down. Jensen grabbed at Jared’s shirts, yanking until Jared stopped long enough to get rid of them Then Jared reached into Jensen’s boxers and stroked his dick, dragging out a well-meaning moan.
“Finally doin’ somethin’ right,” Jensen murmured, so distracted by the good sensations coursing his body.
Jared turned Jensen in his arms, still using one hand to stroke Jensen and the other arm wound around his shoulders, pulling him tight to his body. “God, this feels so wrong. It’s so dirty,” he said, but this time, his voice was playful and purposely over-the-top guilty.
Jensen rung an arm up around Jared’s neck to hold him close and grabbed Jared’s ass with the other hand. “Supposed to be dirty, baby.”
“I just … I dunno. I’ve always thought it. You’re always on my mind,” Jared goes on in between sucking marks across Jensen’s shoulders, apparently reciting some truly awful Winchester slash fic that Jensen doesn’t even want to know exists. But the way Jared’s overdoing it, purposely putting it all out there, Jensen can’t stop chuckling, but he also can’t stop grinding back on Jared’s dick. “We’re just so close. Only makes sense, to be this much closer.”
“Just fucking stick in already,” Jensen groaned.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“It’s my fucking birthday, yes I’m sure,” he huffed out, purposely low and gravelly, like he would if he really were Dean. “Think it’s a written rule that I get fucked on my birthday.”
“Without lube? You sure?”
Jensen sighed, nearly falling into Jared’s arms with how heartily he was about to give up. “Since when are you sensible one? Jesus Christ.”
Jared laughed, finally laughed his laugh and pulled away. “’Kay, gimme a minute.”
With another sigh, Jensen collapsed against the island, burying his head in his arms and panting steadily, trying to focus his breathing instead of thinking about how fucking hard he was and how fucking slow Jared moved. The pounding of blood through his ears was loud enough that he didn’t even know Jared was back until a slick finger shot into his ass and Jared pushed at his back, keeping him against the counter.
“Surprise,” he murmured against Jensen’s neck before sucking and marring the skin there.
“Fuck,” Jensen grunted out. “You know I hate surprises.” As Jared shoved another lubed finger in, Jensen gritted out, “Oh, fuck you,” on a short laugh.
A third finger later and plenty of lube over his dick, Jared lined up and pushed in, holding Jensen’s hips steady, even while Jensen tried to push back to force it faster. Jared stalled, and Jensen knew he was taking in the feel of filling the hole and the tension of muscles gripping his dick but not relenting quite yet. “God damn, you feel good.”
When the tension eased, Jensen rocked back, encouraging Jared to push forward until they found their rhythm. Jensen’s arm wound up to Jared’s neck again, pulling him flush enough to hear the low ramblings, which mostly included, “C’mon baby, do it, hit me hard, I want it hard and fast. Yeah, baby, like that.”
“Stop calling me baby,” Jared said through gritted teeth.
Jensen nearly chuckled, but the wind was knocked from his lungs with Jared’s hips ratcheting up and knocking Jensen’s prostate. “You love it. Love being my baby,” he taunted.
Jared pushed his forehead to Jensen’s shoulder and gripped the hips tight, squeezing between muscles and feeling bone beneath his fingers as he yanked Jensen back and forth over his dick. “God, shut up, bitch.”
“Jerk,” Jensen spat back on a smirk.
“Oh, fuck, no, don’t even start,” Jared whined but he kept on pounding, smiling with the smack of skin between them.
“You like it?” Jensen taunted again. “You like getting off, thinking of the incest? Sam fucking Dean? In a hotel room? In the Impala? His big, long dick in Dean’s tight ass.”
Jared bite into Jensen’s skin in retaliation and grumbled, “Stop it, fucking stop it.”
“C’mon, baby. You know your Sam would love it. Giving Dean all that love he’s bottled up, that Dean won’t let him show. Oh, fuck,” Jensen winced when Jared pounded even harder. “Yeah, yeah, this is it, fuckin’ give it to me.”
He kept fucking Jensen, hands tight on Jensen’s hips, his heart thumping with his building orgasm and his mind swirling with all that Jensen’s saying. “Fucking beggar,” Jared groaned. “Dirty, little beggar. Just like Dean, begging for someone to fuck him, so desperate for it.”
Jensen leaned further onto the counter, losing his mind and most of his muscle control because he suddenly felt like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He planted his elbows on the surface and hung his head as he pushed back, taking Jared and the whole length he forced in his ass. “Fuck, Jared, just, do it.”
Jared stopped hitting so hard and deep, and went for quick, short jabs, stuttering his hips as fast as humanly possible. And it was then that Jensen had to grab himself and start jacking off, to bring himself as close to Jared’s orgasm as possible. And they both moved fast, so fast that it was a blur of how much longer it lasted until they each came. Jensen over his hand and stomach, Jared inside Jensen’s ass.
After enough heavy breathing to steady themselves, Jared pulled out then kissed Jensen’s shoulder with a soft, “Happy Birthday.”
“Fuck off,” he laughed, pushing back on Jared and then realizing he still didn’t have full strength of his legs and practically collapsed to the floor. Jared dropped down next to him and they sat up against the cupboards, naked, sweaty, and completely sated.
Jared moved close to kiss Jensen’s shoulder, smiling against the skin, and Jensen reached up to pat his cheek then stroke his hair a few times.
Jensen tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a few quiet moments. “Is there really pie?”
He smiled at Jensen’s shoulder again and nodded.
“What kind?”
“Strawberry rhubarb and French silk.”
Jensen turned to him, confused then incredulous. “You baked a French silk?”
Jared laughed and reached up with a long arm, fumbling across the counter until he brought down the box. “Like I’d waste the time? I had shit to decorate this morning.”
“Right,” Jensen laughed while shifting to check the drawer to his left for silverware. He handed a fork over then dug in once Jared had the pie out of the box.
They wolfed down a good portion of the pie, just sitting on the floor, naked, tired, still completely sated. Jared looked over with a smirk and reached out with his thumb swiping the corner of Jensen’s mouth. He then licked the chocolate off and grinned at Jensen’s eye roll. “Have a good birthday?”
“Yeah, the greatest,” he replied in a flat voice.
Jared dug around the pie for another forkful and smiled carefully, falling back into Sam Winchester with a thoughtful head nod. “Good, I’m glad.”
Jensen decided to ignore the character slide and took another bite. But then he said, “Man, I hope that Jensen Ackles gets himself an awesome birthday.”
“I don’t know, dude. His brother ain’t as great as I am.”
He shook his head and huffed. “For the record? We are never doing this again.”
“Fucking in the kitchen and eating pie?”
“No, that we’re gonna do a lot.”
:Rating: NC-17 - porns!
Words: 4,600
Summary: It's Dean Winchester's birthday, and Jared's gonna make sure it's one he never forgets.
Notes: Err, thank aldehyde for even mentioning Dean-birthday-Wincesty fic. Blame my brain and the enabling of timehasa_way and neros_violin. I, uh, don't know, really, what happens here. But it's cracky for sure, and officially? This is the closest I ever get to Wincest. Title and cut from John Mayer's song of the same name.
When Jensen woke, it was any other Sunday morning. Or so he thought. Because the second his foot dropped from the very last step to the first floor carpet, he caught something buttery and sweet in the air. And then he saw the banner and balloons. As he entered the kitchen, he grabbed the streamers at eye level and yanked them down with a sigh.
That’s when Jared turned from the stove. “Hey.”
“Jared.”
“Look, I know what you’re gonna say.”
“Jared,” he groaned as he sat at the island, elbows on the counter and head in his hands. “Not again.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Jared looked at him oddly and his voice was strangely level, restrained even. “Your birthday?”
Jensen scrubbed his face then kept his hands over his mouth. “No, it is not my birthday.”
Jared pushed a few pans around the stove and flipped the ranges off. “Dude, you don’t have to feel bad about your age- ”
“Which is the same as it was yesterday.”
His voice kept going as he moved around the kitchen to grab orange juice and plates and napkins. “But another year older? Another year you survived.”
“Fuck me,” Jensen groaned.
Jared stopped and stared, and the steady gaze was troubling, because it really wasn’t Jared’s. “What’s wrong?”
Jensen looked up. “I can’t do this without coffee.” Soon enough, Jared put a mug down and poured piping hot coffee as Jensen waited. Then waited some more until he asked, “Cream and sugar?”
“Since when?”
He sighed. “Since always. C’mon.”
Jared put the two containers in front of Jensen. “Don’t have to get grouchy.”
“I do. I insist on a real day off and not this stupid- ”
“Okay, so I know you don’t wanna make a big deal about this. But really, you only have one birthday a year. But I got some of your favorites. Steak and eggs. Sausage.”
“Jared,” he sighed. “Seriously. Just stop.”
His head dipped down as he moved around the kitchen and sounded sheepish. “Got a pie. Well a couple. Didn’t know which you had a taste for.”
Jensen looked up, only a little interested. “Pie?”
Jared broke a tiny smirk, but he tempered it instantly. “Yeah, well, it is your birthday.” He moved back to the counter and flipped the radio and Led Zeppelin immediately blared through the speakers.
Jensen rolled his eyes but settled in for the breakfast Jared put before him. It smelled fantastic, but it looked like it had been rolled in a pound of lard. “What is this?” he muttered with his hands motioning over his plate.
There was no answer except for the music to go even louder, and for Jared to start murmuring with the opening of Immigrant Song.
“Jesus Christ,” Jensen complained with a roll of his eyes.
“I can put Stairway to Heaven on next,” Jared suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders and face. He then dug right into his plate of greasy eggs, potatoes, bacon, and sausage, nodding to the beat of the music drowning out any other possible sounds in the room.
Jensen rose and stalked to the radio, flipping it off with a sigh, and then settled back at the island to eat some toast. Toast he could do, eggs dripping in grease he could not. “Why do we have to do this again?” he asked as he dabbed the bacon with his napkin.
“’Cause i’s your bir-day,” Jared mumbled through his chewing.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Denial won’t help,” he said while shoveling more eggs into his already half-full mouth.
Jensen put his napkin down and steeled himself to be as direct as possible. “Jared,” he started, covering Jared’s hand with his own and squeezing. “I don’t know if you realize this, but we are actors.”
Jared kept on eating.
“And we play characters on a TV show.”
And he still chewed on.
“It is not my birthday. It is Dean’s birthday.”
“Your birthday, yeah,” he nodded with a smile.
Jensen spoke clearly, slowly, and a bit gruffly. “I am not Dean. And it is not my birthday.”
Jared’s eyebrows rose and he broke character long enough to say, “You so just sounded like him.”
He sighed and tossed his hands out before grabbing his fork. “It’s official. You are damaged.”
“Hmm,” Jared sounded with a small snort while ripping off a big bite of toast with aggressive teeth.
It was quiet for most of breakfast as they ate and sipped coffee and orange juice. At one point, Jared turned the radio back on, but this time at a lower level and purposely found “Ramble On,” which Jensen nearly grumbled at. But then he stopped and hummed to bits of it. In addition to it being Dean Winchester’s favorite song, it was one Jensen liked, too. He’d take this little bit of absurdity for now.
Once Jared was done with his food, he put the plates into the sink, even snatching Jensen’s before he was finished and ignoring Jensen’s quiet complaints. “We got a schedule to keep.”
Jensen rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right. How could I forget?”
“You need a shower?”
“Where we going?” he asked with a critical eye.
Jared answered flippantly, “Sooner you get ready, sooner we can leave.”
Jensen took a long breath in and released it noisily. “You know, this got old two years ago.”
Jared tipped his head to the side. “Dude, you have a birthday every year. Why is this a surprise?” When Jensen didn’t answer, he said, ““I’ll meet you out front,” and grabbed a knapsack off the dining room table and marched out the front door.
A shower, shave, and new clothes later, Jensen opened the front door and tsked in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me, man?”
Jared shifted from leaning to standing next to the Impala. “What? You wanna drive? I was gonna offer to drive. Chauffeur for your birthday.”
“Seriously?” Jensen squawked and then followed it with a stern, “Seriously. No. We’re not doing this.”
“What?” Jared asked while shrugging with high shoulders. “I know you’re not comfortable with this. But we just gotta … Look, I’m just, I wanted to do something nice. You know? We’ve had a rough time since, well, since hell and on the hunt for Lucifer. Just thought it’d be nice to have a break. It’s your birthday.”
Jensen balled his hands into fists and pushed them into the air. He held his breath and scratched the back of his head while trying to figure it all out. So ridiculous, so, so, ridiculous and he had no idea how to stop Jared from being such an idiot. “Jared, this is … you have a problem. I don’t know what your point here is, but. Seriously, you can’t do this.”
“What?”
“You stole the Impala!”
“I didn’t,” Jared started while looking at the car. “I didn’t steal anything.”
After a long breath and a quick run over the possibilities for the rest of this day, Jensen asked as calmly as possible. “I do this and you’ll stop, right? You’ll go back to being Jared?”
Jared gave a typical Sam shruggy-face and looked rather pathetically lost in the conversation, so Jensen let out a muttered, “Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” and went for the Impala’s passenger side, getting in without another word.
He was silent for the ride, too, not commenting or caring on what music Jared played - well really, he absolutely cared, because Jared was blaring Bon Jovi. And if there was just one shared characteristic between Jensen and Dean it was that they both fucking hated Bon Jovi.
Jensen took to the window, catching the moving landscape and admiring one of the good things about being exiled to Vancouver: the scenery. He was actually taken by one particular clearing where the road split off and a small gravel drive led to an overlook along a lake. And it seemed that Jared was also favoring it because he pulled off and turned the car off. As Jensen got out and admired the view, Jared stopped at the trunk and came back with two beers, passing one over.
With a smirk and a snort, Jensen took the bottle but then winced at the label. Pilsner. Not great. Especially when he normally favored Alexander Keith’s every other day of the week. “Jared, ” he started with complaint, but then stopped when he saw the closed look on Jared’s face, how he tucked one hand into his pocket and stared at his foot kicking gravel around. “Hey, what’s up?”
Jared leaned back on the Impala and crossed his ankles while looking onto the lake and taking a sip. “You ever get tired of this?”
Jensen stared back, trying to hide his annoyance and waiting for Jared to continue. Even if it was obvious that he wouldn’t drop the act and was now forcing him into a typical Sam and Dean share-and-care moment.
“Tired of doing this?”
“All the time,” Jensen replied dryly, thinking of the last four ‘birthdays’ they’d celebrated,
“I mean, what’re we gonna do in twenty years? Thirty? What d’you think the future really is for us?”
Jensen took a sip and grimaced at the gritty taste. God, he hated cheap beer. “Don’t know about you, but I plan on being poolside in the sun every day.”
He sighed and gave one of Sam’s pissy looks. “I’m being serious.”
“Oh, I can tell,” he mumbled to the top of his bottle and took another gulp.
Jared picked at the top of his beer bottle and spoke gently. “You ever think about how different it would be? If you didn’t come get me? If Dad’d never gone missing?”
“No,” he answered with a tired shake of his head. “I’ve never once considered it. Because it didn’t really happen.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Jensen stared and waited for him to continue.
Jared gestured with the bottle towards him. “I mean, it was obviously meant to be. Dad ran off for a reason.” His face went through a fluid range of thoughtful emotions and then he said, “It’s almost like Dad always wanted us to be together. Like he wanted you to come get me from school. Be out on the road together. Again.”
Jensen leaned heavily on the Impala, sighed, and looked straight up the sky while muttering more obscenities under his breath. This was so not worth it. Not for the fifth year in a row. First year? Okay, funny and cute because Jared was like a little puppy and always jumping at the chance to play tricks on everyone. And back then it had felt like a prank when he had the whole cast join up for a brief surprise party and gift Jensen with classic rock tapes “for the Impala.” The few years since, and most definitely this time, were not so much funny as rather pathetic and a giant waste of time. Jesus Jensen swore to himself. He really wanted to have this day to relax, instead of running around and spending it once again pretending to be Dean Winchester.
“Wonder if he knew this is where we’d end up. Apocalypse? Lucifer and Michael and all that?”
“Jared.”
“I’m just saying … wondering, really. If Dad knew what we were going up against.”
“Don’t have the same dad,” Jensen muttered into his beer while drinking.
Jared went right on like Jensen hadn’t said anything out of context. “If he knew, you think he’d still have dealt with the demon? He would’ve found another way to save you.”
“Wish he’d save me now.”
Suddenly, Jared cleared his throat and his voice broke, catching Jensen’s full attention. “If he would’ve stuck around, if he didn’t just give in to deal, he could’ve been here for everything else. Keep you from hell. Me from the demon blood.”
“Okay, you know what?” Jensen spit out quickly while standing up and waving his beer around. It took one more second to think it through and he decided he’d play along just long enough to get them back home and to placate Jared. “Not an issue. Not an issue at all. Because Dad’s gone and we’re here now. We’re doing this and that’s all there is to it, okay? We just gotta move forward and keep going and that’s all we’ve got. This war and each other.” Jared gave a small, relieved smile at the words, and then Jensen huffed, “Fuck,” and turned away.
“No, you’re right,” Jared said resolutely.
“Don’t I know it,” Jensen sighed into his beer, finishing the bottle and tossing it into a brush of wild plants. “We ready?”
Jared awkwardly smiled and then nodded before downing the rest of his beer. “Yeah, we’re good.”
The ride back was even more awkward but Jensen was at least satisfied with the knowledge that they were going back to the house. Except they weren’t, because Jared pulled into a gas station even when, from where Jensen could see, the Impala had a good half tank of gas. “What’s up?”
“Just grabbing a few things, I’ll be back,” Jared said quickly, jumping from the car and heading into the mini-mart. He came back about five minutes later with a packed bag that he tucked into his lap.
“What’d you get?” Jensen asked strangely, because there was no way they honestly needed more than a gallon of milk from a gas station. “Jared, seriously. What’d you get?”
“Nothin’,” he mumbled with a tiny smile. “You’ll see when we get back.”
Jensen sighed and actually had to fight peeking at the bag for the next ten minutes and again just stared out the window until they pulled into the driveway of the house. When they got out, he shot Jared a look, but Jared wasn’t giving any more away and just marched right into the house. Jensen threw his hands in the air and followed.
In the kitchen was where it all got worse. Jared had laid out two paper bags and the main gas station bag was still on the counter but not as full as before. Jared smiled a little then nudged the two bags. “Happy birthday, man.”
Jensen eyed him as he neared but he had to admit that the curiosity was a bit overwhelming as he wondered what the hell Jared would’ve purchased at the gas station. But he really shouldn’t have spent so much energy thinking it over because he opened up the bags to find a handful of beef jerky in one and a couple issues of Asian Babes in the other. He stared at the items in his hand then up at Jared, unrelenting in his annoyed expression. And Jared was just as unrelenting in his tiny, expectant glance.
He put the items on the counter and smoothed a palm over the scantily clad woman on the porn magazine then planted the hand over her face so he didn’t have to look at her supposedly seductive gaze. “Jared.”
“You like?”
Jensen clucked his tongue to keep from saying anything awful, because Jared was putting in a performance of a lifetime. His face was slightly hopeful yet a little awkward, like he had felt just as uncomfortable buying the magazine as Sam would be, but also knew it would mean a lot to Dean. Jensen cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure, they’re great.”
“Awesome.”
“Can’t wait to use ‘em,” he shot out sarcastically. Jared chuckled then reached for the other bag but Jensen didn’t bother waiting to see what was there and instead marched to the fridge for a beer. In ten seconds, he had it opened and down the hatch, ignoring how it burned cold in his throat. He worked around the belch coming up and then grabbed another, figuring if nothing else, he’d get drunk and find a way to hate this day a little less. “Alright, what’s next?” he asked after drinking from a second beer.
“Got your favorite,” Jared said as he pulled out a foil-wrapped burger - nay, a double bacon cheeseburger. And then a few hot dogs.
Jensen looked them over then snorted. “People actually eat that shit?”
Jared gave a confused glance then rearranged the food, including bags of Funyons and Cheet-ohs. “Dude, you live off this stuff.”
He sighed and grabbed the burger anyway, pulling the foil halfway down and then staring at it. “I’m so gonna vomit when we’re done. You’re cleaning it up.”
They grazed over the food, taking bites here and there, handfuls of snacks, and downing beer after beer. Jensen was really making this birthday count.
“So, uh,” Jared started carefully. “You … you wanna watch the game?”
Jensen rolled his eyes, thinking back to a moment not unlike this very one where Sam and Dean celebrated Christmas. He cleared his throat then grabbed as many beers as he could manage in his hands and nodded to the living room.
There was no game on. At least not anything current, and Jared went so far as to comment, “These stations are awful,” as if there weren’t options like ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic,
NFL Network, a whole slew of MLB stations, and so many others from their gigantic cable package.
With a snort, Jensen dug into the couch cushions and kept on drinking.
They shared the beers, and it was near the end of a Super Bowl replay of the Bears and Patriots, which was a ridiculous blowout and, as far as Jensen was concerned, wholly unentertaining, that Jared wandered back into the kitchen. Jensen, bored and drunk, dumbly followed.
Jared turned from the fridge with Jensen right on him. “What’s up?” Jared asked awkwardly.
Jensen’s fingers curled into Jared’s white and pink patterned button down - God the thing was hideous - and pulled Jared closer. “Hey there,” he murmured with a sly smile.
He chuckled, obviously uncomfortable, and tried to move away. “You feeling okay?” Reaching for his neck, Jensen tried to pull Jared down to him, to bring his lips to his own, but Jared fought it. “Dude, what’re you doing?”
“C’mon, Jared,” Jensen nearly cooed, smoothing a palm over Jared’s cheek, through his hair, and to the back of his neck to, again, pull him down. He kept trying, fighting Jared’s denial, all in the name of being drunk and incredibly horny. Shit, if he had to deal with role playing all day long, he was as least going to get some ass out of the deal.
Jared still chuckled strangely and kept his face high and away from Jensen’s. “Okay, maybe you should just go to bed.”
Jensen gave up on Jared’s face and instead latched onto his neck, sucking and licking along the skin, teasing the muscle with his teeth. “C’mon, J. S’my birthday.”
“Um, no, c’mon, this is wrong.”
“Don’t wanna be right,” he murmured against Jared’s collarbone, smiling at the skin as Jared’s fight wanes.
“No, it’s not right. You’re my brother.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Jensen seethed, grabbing at Jared’s crotch and rubbing quickly.
“No, c’mon,” he lamely argued, moving right into Jensen’s hand. “I … you, you don’t know … don’t know what you’re doing,” he rambled on with his head falling and resting against Jensen’s. “This is so wrong.”
Jensen expertly undid Jared’s belt and jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. One hand held Jared’s ass, fingers teasing along his crack, while the other grabbed his dick, already hard. “C’mon baby,” Jensen soothed as he stroked Jared, pulling his body closer with every movement.
“God, no, we can’t.”
“Yes, yes we can.”
“No, no,” he weakly contended as Jensen’s finger edged his hole, calloused finger rubbing the rim.
Jensen nudged his head along to Jared’s until he found his mouth and kissed him wet and lazy, tongues rolling together.
“It’s incest, Jen.”
He finally laughed as Jared lost his place in the story, let the charade slip, and kissed him back in earnest. Jared’s large hands bracketed Jensen’s face to direct him in each way possible, fighting to find the angle where he could reach the deepest space of Jensen’s mouth.
“God,” Jared whispered as he pulled back. “Wait, wait, hang on.” He pushed Jensen just a few inches away, enough that Jensen stopped touching him. Jensen sighed, close to breaking and just tearing Jared up for the entire day. But then Jared reached under Jensen’s shirt and pulled it up over his head. He dropped messy kisses along Jensen’s chest, twirling the nipples under his tongue and lips while he unlatched Jensen’s belt, unbuttoned the pants, pushed them down. Jensen grabbed at Jared’s shirts, yanking until Jared stopped long enough to get rid of them Then Jared reached into Jensen’s boxers and stroked his dick, dragging out a well-meaning moan.
“Finally doin’ somethin’ right,” Jensen murmured, so distracted by the good sensations coursing his body.
Jared turned Jensen in his arms, still using one hand to stroke Jensen and the other arm wound around his shoulders, pulling him tight to his body. “God, this feels so wrong. It’s so dirty,” he said, but this time, his voice was playful and purposely over-the-top guilty.
Jensen rung an arm up around Jared’s neck to hold him close and grabbed Jared’s ass with the other hand. “Supposed to be dirty, baby.”
“I just … I dunno. I’ve always thought it. You’re always on my mind,” Jared goes on in between sucking marks across Jensen’s shoulders, apparently reciting some truly awful Winchester slash fic that Jensen doesn’t even want to know exists. But the way Jared’s overdoing it, purposely putting it all out there, Jensen can’t stop chuckling, but he also can’t stop grinding back on Jared’s dick. “We’re just so close. Only makes sense, to be this much closer.”
“Just fucking stick in already,” Jensen groaned.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“It’s my fucking birthday, yes I’m sure,” he huffed out, purposely low and gravelly, like he would if he really were Dean. “Think it’s a written rule that I get fucked on my birthday.”
“Without lube? You sure?”
Jensen sighed, nearly falling into Jared’s arms with how heartily he was about to give up. “Since when are you sensible one? Jesus Christ.”
Jared laughed, finally laughed his laugh and pulled away. “’Kay, gimme a minute.”
With another sigh, Jensen collapsed against the island, burying his head in his arms and panting steadily, trying to focus his breathing instead of thinking about how fucking hard he was and how fucking slow Jared moved. The pounding of blood through his ears was loud enough that he didn’t even know Jared was back until a slick finger shot into his ass and Jared pushed at his back, keeping him against the counter.
“Surprise,” he murmured against Jensen’s neck before sucking and marring the skin there.
“Fuck,” Jensen grunted out. “You know I hate surprises.” As Jared shoved another lubed finger in, Jensen gritted out, “Oh, fuck you,” on a short laugh.
A third finger later and plenty of lube over his dick, Jared lined up and pushed in, holding Jensen’s hips steady, even while Jensen tried to push back to force it faster. Jared stalled, and Jensen knew he was taking in the feel of filling the hole and the tension of muscles gripping his dick but not relenting quite yet. “God damn, you feel good.”
When the tension eased, Jensen rocked back, encouraging Jared to push forward until they found their rhythm. Jensen’s arm wound up to Jared’s neck again, pulling him flush enough to hear the low ramblings, which mostly included, “C’mon baby, do it, hit me hard, I want it hard and fast. Yeah, baby, like that.”
“Stop calling me baby,” Jared said through gritted teeth.
Jensen nearly chuckled, but the wind was knocked from his lungs with Jared’s hips ratcheting up and knocking Jensen’s prostate. “You love it. Love being my baby,” he taunted.
Jared pushed his forehead to Jensen’s shoulder and gripped the hips tight, squeezing between muscles and feeling bone beneath his fingers as he yanked Jensen back and forth over his dick. “God, shut up, bitch.”
“Jerk,” Jensen spat back on a smirk.
“Oh, fuck, no, don’t even start,” Jared whined but he kept on pounding, smiling with the smack of skin between them.
“You like it?” Jensen taunted again. “You like getting off, thinking of the incest? Sam fucking Dean? In a hotel room? In the Impala? His big, long dick in Dean’s tight ass.”
Jared bite into Jensen’s skin in retaliation and grumbled, “Stop it, fucking stop it.”
“C’mon, baby. You know your Sam would love it. Giving Dean all that love he’s bottled up, that Dean won’t let him show. Oh, fuck,” Jensen winced when Jared pounded even harder. “Yeah, yeah, this is it, fuckin’ give it to me.”
He kept fucking Jensen, hands tight on Jensen’s hips, his heart thumping with his building orgasm and his mind swirling with all that Jensen’s saying. “Fucking beggar,” Jared groaned. “Dirty, little beggar. Just like Dean, begging for someone to fuck him, so desperate for it.”
Jensen leaned further onto the counter, losing his mind and most of his muscle control because he suddenly felt like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He planted his elbows on the surface and hung his head as he pushed back, taking Jared and the whole length he forced in his ass. “Fuck, Jared, just, do it.”
Jared stopped hitting so hard and deep, and went for quick, short jabs, stuttering his hips as fast as humanly possible. And it was then that Jensen had to grab himself and start jacking off, to bring himself as close to Jared’s orgasm as possible. And they both moved fast, so fast that it was a blur of how much longer it lasted until they each came. Jensen over his hand and stomach, Jared inside Jensen’s ass.
After enough heavy breathing to steady themselves, Jared pulled out then kissed Jensen’s shoulder with a soft, “Happy Birthday.”
“Fuck off,” he laughed, pushing back on Jared and then realizing he still didn’t have full strength of his legs and practically collapsed to the floor. Jared dropped down next to him and they sat up against the cupboards, naked, sweaty, and completely sated.
Jared moved close to kiss Jensen’s shoulder, smiling against the skin, and Jensen reached up to pat his cheek then stroke his hair a few times.
Jensen tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a few quiet moments. “Is there really pie?”
He smiled at Jensen’s shoulder again and nodded.
“What kind?”
“Strawberry rhubarb and French silk.”
Jensen turned to him, confused then incredulous. “You baked a French silk?”
Jared laughed and reached up with a long arm, fumbling across the counter until he brought down the box. “Like I’d waste the time? I had shit to decorate this morning.”
“Right,” Jensen laughed while shifting to check the drawer to his left for silverware. He handed a fork over then dug in once Jared had the pie out of the box.
They wolfed down a good portion of the pie, just sitting on the floor, naked, tired, still completely sated. Jared looked over with a smirk and reached out with his thumb swiping the corner of Jensen’s mouth. He then licked the chocolate off and grinned at Jensen’s eye roll. “Have a good birthday?”
“Yeah, the greatest,” he replied in a flat voice.
Jared dug around the pie for another forkful and smiled carefully, falling back into Sam Winchester with a thoughtful head nod. “Good, I’m glad.”
Jensen decided to ignore the character slide and took another bite. But then he said, “Man, I hope that Jensen Ackles gets himself an awesome birthday.”
“I don’t know, dude. His brother ain’t as great as I am.”
He shook his head and huffed. “For the record? We are never doing this again.”
“Fucking in the kitchen and eating pie?”
“No, that we’re gonna do a lot.”