Dial It In | J2 au | NC17
Dial It In.
Jared/Jensen. NC17. AU of Top Shot.
10,500 words. Beta by raeschae.
Dial it in: to make small adjustments until you have the perfect shot.
Tonight, on TOP SHOT, revenge is the name of the game. Old challenges come back to haunt our final five marksmen as they compete in a new kind of obstacle course. With everyone's sights set on the 100,000 dollar prize, friendships and alliances in the house will be tested, and a pair of rivals will meet in our elimination challenge to see which one will continue on their quest to be our TOP SHOT.
SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA.
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
"What the fuck was that?"
Jensen cracks the bedroom door and glances towards the kitchen. The secondary camera team is milling down by the door to the patio, but the clattering comes from the eating area next to the kitchen.
"Sounds like Carlos knocked over another bar-stool."
"That fucker." Jared's voice is muffled by three layers of blankets. Mornings in the hills are chilly, but Jared acts like he's been forced to live in the tundra. "It's too early."
"That's two bucks you owe me," Jensen says, pulling on the only clean green polo shirt he has left. His old red shirts are hanging up next to Jared's blue ones in the closet, symbols of the rivalry they'd struck up as soon as the cameras were rolling.
"No cameras in here," Jared complains. "Besides, they can bleep me out."
"That wasn't the deal. A dollar every time you swear, man. It's not that hard to keep it clean."
Jared mumbles something that would probably earn Jensen another few bucks, but he lets it slide. The kid's gotten better since they all met. No one in the house was a saint, but Jared had a sailor's mouth and even Jensen wanted to shove a bar of soap in there to see if it would help. Wagering was the only way to get through Jared's thick hair and thicker skull; Jensen's up at least fifty bucks by now.
Three sharp knocks on their door and Leroy sticks his head in.
"You guys sleep alright?" Leroy asks. "Danno gave us the word to be up at the practice range in half an hour." Danno, one of their assistant producers, keeps them all on a pretty tight schedule in the mornings. "Is Jared gonna be up by then?"
"It'll make for better drama if he's not," Jensen says, grinning at the former marine, but Leroy's all business, shaking his head.
"Haul him out and come get some breakfast before it's gone."
"Yes sir."
Leroy's mouth twitches but whatever, Jensen's always polite. Grabbing his belt, he gives Jared's twin bed a good kick.
"I will end you," Jared threatens from within his blanket burrito.
"Get up or I'm not saving you anything to eat."
"I will end you twice."
"So damn lame," Jensen huffs, kicking the frame again. "Ass up, Padalecki. It's time for your next lesson."
TOP SHOT. DAY 2.
Jensen expects the patio to be empty.
Both camera crews are in the house and the rest of the Red team is celebrating their victory in the season's first challenge; the overconfidence strikes Jensen as being too obnoxious this early in the competition. Sure, Jensen's happy, but they're just getting started. No way in hell Jensen's getting cocky yet.
It's quiet out on the villa's patio, but Jensen's definitely not alone.
The kid, Jared, is slouched on a lounge chair, chin tucked into his chest. His Oakley shades are hooked on his shirt even though the sun's been down for an hour. It almost looks like he's sleeping, but as Jensen turns to go back inside, Jared speaks up.
"I think I'm going home."
"Excuse me?"
Jensen back tracks over the flagstone until he can see the kid's eyes. Confusion and anxiety don't make for a pleasant mix and those emotions are all over the kid's face.
Jared sighs. "They're gonna eliminate me."
"As far as I know, they can only vote for you to compete again. They can't actually vote you off the show. You have a chance."
More than just a chance, Jensen thinks. He'd caught site of Jared during the challenge, cataloging everyone's skills. The kid's a fast shooter, but he seemed especially nervous, has more to prove because he's the youngest competitor in the field. But Jared's team had lost and, from what Jensen's been hearing in the house tonight, the despondent Blue team is ready to throw their youngest under the bus.
It doesn't sit well with Jensen.
"So, you're Jensen?" Jared asks, uncrossing his scuffed cowboy boots and sitting up in the lounger.
"And you're Jared."
Jared laughs. "Guess I wasn't the only one actually paying attention to names. You're with the police, right?"
"Up in San Francisco," Jensen says. "Been there since I got out of the Marines two years ago."
"You're close to me, then. I'm in my first year at Stanford Law."
They trade small talk about the Bay Area and Jensen watches the panic seep out of Jared's eyes. It's hard to feel comfortable here given the show's hectic schedule and the pressure of competition, but Jensen finds himself relaxing. Jared's a good kid: twenty-three, a member of the National Rifle Team, and already being scouted for the Olympic shooting roster in the next summer games, he admits with a goofy grin.
"And you probably like long walks on the beach, too," Jensen jokes.
"Only if I'm taking them with my dogs, and then it's more like getting dragged down the beach."
Their conversation fades and the pin-pricks of starlight contrast with the sky's inky background. Jensen's chair faces Jared's, and their feet share space on the same uneven flagstone.
"Thanks, man," Jared says. "I know I'm your competition and all-"
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Dude-" Jared scoffs, but then he starts laughing. "Yeah, I had that one coming."
"Don't worry about tomorrow," Jensen tells him. "You haven't gotten to know your team yet, so they'll vote on perceived weaknesses, not bad shooting."
"They're gonna vote for me."
"If they do, then you kick ass against whoever you're shooting against and show them how wrong they were to underestimate you. You're a quick thinker, and a fast shot. Just don't let anything else get in your head during the elimination, and use your strengths."
Jared smiles. "Got any other lessons for me, Officer?"
"Tons, but you've gotta pull through tomorrow to hear them. Think you can manage that, Padalecki?"
"Yeah," Jared says with renewed vigor. "I think I can."
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
"It's definitely gonna be a multi-weapon challenge," Carlos remarks to the group, looking at the display of firearms, throwing knives, and-aw, dammit!-bows laid out on tables in front of their practice range.
"Alright, shooters!" Colby sounds more awake than any of them, probably up for hours in hair and make-up before meeting them up here. Colby's smile is white and Texas-wide, cheeks brown from the wind and sun. "Today you're going to get the chance to redeem yourselves. In front of you are weapons you're going to recognize from old challenges."
Colby runs down the list of weapons, flubbing his dialogue a few times and stopping to re-film, laughing apologetically when Jared mocks his mistakes. As their host talks, Jensen's going through each weapon in his head, remembering the challenges they were a part of and identifying his weaknesses. Jensen doesn't even want to acknowledge the long recurve bow sitting innocently on the second table. He's not Robin Hood, for God's sake.
"There's the recurve bow, used in our fourth challenge, and the 1873 Winchester rifle, the gun that won the West." Colby points out the HK93, one of Jensen's favorite rifles, next to the TZ99's and Smith & Wesson's.
Jared is eyeing the Beretta shotgun, scowling. He didn't have a good encounter with that one, Jensen remembers.
"During today's session, you'll each be given the same amount of practice time. You can split your time between two weapons to refamiliarize yourself, or take the entire time to practice with a single weapon, but you cannot practice with more than two weapons, so choose carefully. Craig Sawyer and Garry James, two of our training experts, are here to help you out. You'll draw randomly for practice order, so let's get started."
Jensen draws the first slot; Jared draws the last. He tries to block out the sight of Jared pacing behind the practice tables, chewing on his thumbnail.
The crew splits up; most of them remain on the practice range to film Jensen, but a few return to the house with the rest of the shooters. Private practice has its advantages but Jensen's already a little jittery.
He gets through twenty minutes with the Winchester, solidifying the feel of the rifle in his hands, the pressure of the trigger and the force of the kick-back. Jensen learns to absorb it throughout his body, unshakable, and then he moves to the recurve.
"Here we go again," he mutters, the microphone attached to his collar easily picking it up. "I bet this would be easier if I had tights."
Back at the house, Jensen finds Jared in the kitchen scarfing down half a box of cereal.
"I thought you had breakfast," he says, dropping his windbreaker on the stool next to Jared.
"Elevensies," Jared mumbles, cornflakes in the corners of his mouth.
"What?"
"Nevermind." Jared gets everything in his mouth and swallows. "How'd it go?"
"Frustrating, but you'll see. Choosing what to practice on was pretty easy." Jensen grabs a banana from the mosaic bowl on the counter. "Where's the camera crew?"
"Outside I think," Jared says. "After Leroy left to practice, Carlos and Angie went outside. I don't think I was invited, you know what I mean?"
"Any problems?"
Jared knows what Jensen's getting at. Since the merge between the two teams, Angie's gotten more aggressive towards Jared where the cameras won't catch her.
"You mean, did she touch me in a bad place, Officer?"
Jared's got an irresistible smirk so Jensen lets the familiar joke play out. He leans in close, conspiratorially.
"Can you show me where the bad lady touched you?"
Jared laughs. Jensen loves that he's comfortable enough to let go, to be honest with Jensen, but of course there are times when sideline humor works better.
"Are you gonna make me forget the unwanted groping?"
Jensen stops with the banana in his mouth. Jared's eyes are wide, mostly amused, as if he's holding in another laugh at the sight of Jensen fellating a piece of fruit. But underneath, behind a layer of playfulness, is a more serious hurt. Jensen wants to offer a familiar comeback-tell Jared he'd be more than happy to touch him in any way deemed necessary, but he frowns and squeezes Jared's shoulder.
"Hey, seriously-"
"It's fine, Jensen," Jared cuts in, putting his hand over Jensen's. It's warm, intimate. Them. Jensen's glad the camera crew is outside filming Carlos and Angie's strategy session so he doesn't have to share the moment. "I can handle Angie. She's just trying to get to me."
"And me."
Jared cocks his head. "What do you mean?"
Jensen didn't mean for that to come out, but Jared's watching him in earnest. He looks around, checks to see that Brandon's not lurking around the corner with a hand-held camera. Flexing his fingers under Jared's, he sighs.
"Angie knows it gets to me, too. She always has."
"She does it to you?"
"Come on, Jared. You're not that dense," he says lightly.
Jared ducks his head, so much like he'd been doing when Jensen found him on the patio that first night. There's a blush spreading on his cheeks, but before Jensen can say anything else, heavy footsteps herald the return of the camera crew and their competition. Their hands drop just before Carlos comes around the corner with a cameraman on his heels.
Jensen silently curses when Angie sits right across from them at the counter, her big blue eyes dissecting the physical distance between Jensen and Jared. Jensen glares back when she throws him a smirk and he really hopes the cameras caught that.
He'll subtract a few bucks from Jared's running total for his mental tirade. It might be the least he can do for Jared, but he vows that it won't be the only thing.
TOP SHOT. DAY 9.
Eliminations rarely go down without a little bit of drama. But then without drama, the final show edits won't be nearly as exciting. Dress it up with professional shooters and zero skimpy outfits, and Top Shot's still a reality show, Jensen thinks. No getting away from that.
Tonight, Jensen's team is pissed. They've dominated the Blue team in the first three challenges and no one's happy about their streak being broken. Given his distracted performance and shoddy shooting, Jensen's the perfect scapegoat tonight.
There's a crew in the corner of Jensen's bedroom, failing to be subtle. Jensen tilts his head up and frowns at Brandon.
"You don't need me to say anything, right?"
"Nah," the cameraman says. "We're just shooting you sitting there, lookin' all pathetic."
"Should I pout some more?" Jensen likes Brandon. He's from Texas, grew up not far from Jensen, and his drawl's comforting. That and he never lets any of the marksmen stew for long when he needs a specific shot.
"You've got the mouth for it, Jenny."
"I hope to God they cut your sass out."
Brandon's laugh is cut off by the bedroom door opening. Jared appears, white-socked feet noiseless on the hardwood floor. Brandon's crew is immediately focused on Jared, chatter going quiet.
"Hey, man. Rough luck tonight."
Jensen bristles despite Jared's soft consolation. "It wasn't luck."
"So, what was it then?"
As Jared sits down on the bed across from him, Jensen's almost impressed that Jared doesn't bite back at Jensen's bitter tone. He's calm, ears open, and willing to listen no matter how much Jensen wants to beat on him.
The cameras keep rolling, probably hoping for Jensen to snap and give them an earful.
"I don't know what happened," Jensen starts, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Maybe I'm not as good as I thought."
"We were shooting with bows and arrows, Jensen. No one was good today. Like, whoever sucked less was gonna win this one." Jared smacks his hand down on Jensen's knee, gentle pressure to bring Jensen's eyes up. "This time, it really was luck."
"I did so bad."
"So don't fuckin' think about it."
"Man, you shouldn't swear," Jensen chides him, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. "This is for television."
"I can't help it, I've got a sailor's mouth."
Jensen raises an eyebrow. "You do, huh? Maybe I should charge you a dollar every time you swear until you stop."
"You're gonna end up a poor man then."
The room's quiet for a few minutes except for the electronic buzz coming from the camera crew. Jensen can't stop circling back to seeing the target with his name under it being obliterated on the nomination range. The Red team's first trip to elimination, and Jensen was nominated without a second thought.
Bows and fucking arrows. Jensen had thought Colby was kidding when the host pulled out the antiquated weapons.
But the weapons weren't the only thing troubling Jensen. The man sitting across from him has more to do with Jensen's distraction than he wants to admit out loud.
There's something brewing between Jensen and Jared, something that the competition and good-natured rivalry don't account for. They can't talk all the time, but ever since the first elimination challenge, when Jared walked confidently back into the house as the challenge survivor and found Jensen's eyes, they've progressed to a point beyond friendship.
Only, Jensen's not the only one in the house who thinks they have a connection with Jared.
Angie is one of two women in the competition. Jordan, a show shooter for Wild West reenactments, is all Southern-drawl and Dixie-manners, bringing humor and a motherly warmth to Jared's team. But Angie's all fire and grit, holding her own on Jensen's team. She's brazen, a hot-shot coming up through the ATF, and she's attracted to Jared; Jensen had no trouble figuring that one out. Not to mention, she's sharp. She sniffed out Jensen's bond with Jared almost as soon as it formed, and it irked her.
Angie had been all mouth on the morning of their bow and arrow practice session, dropping comments about Jared and making sure Jensen was there to hear. Baiting, caring more about distracting Jensen than making sure their team was solid. She's dangerous, Jensen knows that now, and he's not going to make the mistake of underestimating her again.
That is, if he lasts through tomorrow's challenge.
"You're going up against David, right? You can beat him, Jensen."
"I know." Jensen's not kidding. David's abilities come and go depending on the challenge. He's been reliable-never great but never terrible, either-and that's all Jensen can say about the Federal Air Marshal on his team.
Jensen's just not one-hundred percent sure his head's in the right place to pull out a victory.
"Try to survive, alright?"
"Are you saying you'd miss me, Padalecki?"
If nothing else, the cameras are gonna get plenty of banter out of the two of them.
"Gotta keep Team Jay-Two together, man!"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Jensen asks with mock exasperation. "We're not on a team."
"Fine," Jared laughs. "Then I'd miss the opportunity to beat your ass again."
"Take it all in," Jensen teases, breathing a little easier. Underneath everything, he senses Jared's camaraderie and the faith he has that Jensen will pull through. It may not mean much when it comes to pulling the trigger tomorrow-or shooting those damn bows-but it definitely means something. "Because I'm not gonna let it happen again."
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
"Jared, hey. Wait up-"
Before Jensen can make it through the door of their bedroom, it slams in his face. Cameras are there to catch the whole thing, but when Jensen looks to Brandon, his pal waves the crew off.
"Let's take five," Brandon says, directing everyone out of the hallway. He gives Jensen a nod over his shoulder and follows the rest of his crew.
Jensen's stomach is sour and he's exhausted from the challenge. Colby had dropped them in a shooter's obstacle course like they were in a cheap game show: multiple weapons and multiple objectives. Sure, the viewers would get a kick out of it, but the course was mentally grueling, each of them taking their turns competing for the best overall time. It had taken the better part of the afternoon to film and in the end, Jared's time sent him to the bottom of the pack. As the slowest, Jared was automatically up for elimination.
Ending up in second place behind Leroy, Jensen could only stand helplessly as Colby informed Jared that he was being sent to elimination. Jared's face had been pinched; he was angry and barely responsive. Once they were given permission to head back to the house, Jared had taken off, stride too much for Jensen to keep up.
Jensen considers knocking, but Jared's good at avoiding people when he thinks his silence will make a point. It's easier to walk in and face Jared's wrath than wait with the unknown.
"Jared, I'm coming in, okay?"
What he finds isn't what he expects. Jared's on his bed, but he's not curled up against the wall or hiding his face; he's not angry or destructive. He's sitting on the edge of the mattress with one of his bags pulled up at his feet, and he's holding something small between his fingers, staring down with his lips in a tight line.
Jensen waits before crossing the chaos of personal belongings strewn across their floor. The bedroom used to belong exclusively to the Red team but as the competition dwindled down to only a few, spaces were rearranged and Jared moved in. It worked for the most part. Jensen and Jared could navigate around each other without much of a fuss, and Jensen welcomed the extra support.
"This isn't a real medal, you know?" Jared holds up the small bronze disc clinging to a red ribbon. He turns it between his fingers; the metal must be soft and warm by now. "My dad got it for me when I was a kid and I was just starting to get into shooting competitions. Man, I sucked back then."
Jensen laughs; it may not be the appropriate reaction but it's what Jared needs. He smiles and looks up.
"I never won anything, and eventually I got so bummed my parents didn't know what to do. So, my dad got me this medal. He told me that he thought I was a great shooter, and that I'd grow up to be an expert. He said that all I needed was a little victory to get me going."
"You've kept it all this time?"
"My mom sewed it into my duffel when I got to high school so I'd always have it. I forgot about it..."
Jared trails off and sighs. Jensen sits next to him, closer than he's used to. He understands Jared's attachment to his dad's medal; sometimes what matters is what you walk away with when you don't win it all.
"Hey-"
"I don't want to talk about the challenge," Jared interrupts. "It was bound to happen sometime, you know? I mean, I never seriously thought I could win this. I'm sure no one expected me to do much of anything when I first got here."
"I did."
"I know, Jensen," Jared says gently. He tightens his fist around the medal and holds it to his chest. "Thank you." He's quiet for a moment before he starts chuckling and shaking his head. "But hell, if I'm going down tomorrow, then I'm going down fighting. I don't care who I have to face, they're gonna have their work cut out."
"What if it's Angie?"
Jared's smile shines all the way into his eyes, dimples deep and cheerful. "If I'm up against her, I'll give her a lot more than my ass to worry about. She's over, Jensen. Seriously."
"I'm with you, man," Jensen says, bumping Jared's shoulder. "We've gotta get her out of here."
"Carlos is never gonna vote for her. You're close to Leroy, ex-Marines and all. Think you can bring him around to shoot Angie's target?"
"It's worth a try."
And hell, Jensen's definitely going to try. Leroy had been a mentor for Jensen when they were both on the Red team, but lately, with the competition winding down to the final days, the middle-aged Desert Storm sniper has been more focused on taking out his competition rather than being fair. Everyone wants to win, Jensen supposes. Although right now, looking at Jared and staring down the possibility that Jensen might lose him, winning doesn't feel all that shiny.
"Damn straight," Jared adds. "You and me, Jensen. We're gonna make it all the way through this thing."
TOP SHOT. DAY 14.
"And that, gentlemen, is how it's done." Gabe tosses the cue onto the felt and throws his arms up. "Now, who wants a lesson?"
"Man." Jared laughs and slaps Gabe on the back. "Shut up."
The wide living room in the front of the house is dominated by an elegant pool table. In a house filled with marksmen, it's been damn popular, but Jensen has yet to see Jared take a turn. Gabe, a young construction worker and pistol champion, has been flaunting his billiard skills, goading his housemates into playing him. It had only taken Gabe twenty minutes to beat Jordan, but she's good-humored about the loss, grabbing a seat next to Leroy on the couch. And now Gabe's looking for his next challenger.
"You must suck," Gabe is telling Jared. "I haven't seen you play once. Ashamed or something?"
"Or something." Jared looks over at Jensen and winks. "Wanna teach me?"
"Sure, man."
From the armchair, Jensen's focus is half on the thriller in his hands and half on Jared circling the table, bending over to take his shots.
Jensen's not blind-he can shoot the stem off an apple at fifty feet-and he's definitely not ignorant, so he can acknowledge the fact that Jared's a good looking guy; he's fit, focused, and always up for a laugh. What throws Jensen is the idea that he's meeting Jared here of all places. He works in San Francisco, so he's met his fair share of handsome gay men, automatically ruling out any guy who thinks Jensen's poorly dressed up as one of the Village People when he's wearing his uniform. No way his Lieutenant would let him get away with pants that tight.
Walking into this competition, Jensen hadn't been prepared to meet anyone. He knows better than to pursue anything major while he's in the house, but if he and Jared keep hitting it off the way they have been, Jensen's pretty sure he'll at least gain a life-long friend. No use thinking about more right now, though. He's got a competition to win.
That doesn't mean Jensen can't appreciate Jared's ass when it's being paraded around the table.
"What'dya say, Jensen?" Jared waves the cue in front of Jensen's face. "Wanna take my skills for a test drive?"
And then there are comments like that, given with a smirk and a clever eye.
"I hope you learned a thing or two."
They flip to break and Jensen wins. Their audience shrinks when Danno sticks his head in the room and announces dinner.
"Just admit you're gonna lose right now," Jensen offers, "and I'll let you go eat."
"Take your shot, Officer. Food can wait."
Jensen sinks one striped ball off the break and another on his second shot. Jared sidles between Jensen and the front windows to get around the table.
"Man, you're built like a house."
"You'd never know it when I was a kid," Jared says, setting up his first shot. "I was gangly, all knees and elbows and big feet, you know? My mom used to call me 'Colt' because I'd stumble over everything."
As soon as Jared takes his shot, Jensen knows he's been had. It's a double strike right off the bat. Jensen should have known better; Jared's smirk is a telltale sign of imminent danger.
"I don't believe it," Jensen grumbles, watching another solid ball slide into the side pocket. "You're a shark."
"Nah. I just spent a lot of time at pool halls with my buddies in college. Learning and playing was the best way to stay mostly sober those nights."
"Not a big drinker?"
Jared shakes his head and studies the table, leaning one elbow on his cue. "I'm not too big on losing control. I like having a good time, don't get me wrong, but beyond a few beers, things can get a little fuzzy."
"Gotcha." Jensen's not big on drinking either; he's seen too much overseas and on the streets to want to tempt fate just for a buzz. Jared leans down, and Jensen sighs. "Man, do I even want to bother with this game?"
"Hey, if you can't handle a little challenge-"
Jensen grins. At this point, they've got the room to themselves and there are worse ways to spend a night than shamelessly flirting and getting his ass handed to him by a law student-cum-billiard shark.
"Shut up and take your shot."
"Yes, sir!"
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
When it happens, it happens fast. For Jensen, it's a blind-side. Jared's thin lips and tight eyes mean he'd suspected something going into the vote.
"That's two votes for Angie and three votes for Jensen," Colby repeats for the fourth time, high winds blowing static into everyone's mics. "Sorry, Jensen. You've been elected by your teammates to join Jared in the elimination challenge."
Carlos and Angie look smug enough to light a fire. Leroy lets his headphones twirl in his fingers; he isn't as pleased with himself, uncomfortable with Carlos and Angie's scheming.
Fuck. Jensen doesn't give away even the slightest twitch for the cameras. I thought I had Leroy on my side.
Three bullet holes mar his target on the nomination board. Carlos and Angie, high on their horses, had turned his name into J NS N, taking out the E's with the kind of precision that would have helped them out on the obstacle course. Leroy's shot was high, nearly off the target, as if he couldn't bring himself to desecrate Jensen's name.
Jared looks at him, apology written all over his face, but Jensen's pragmatic enough to know that there was nothing Jared could have done besides put his bullet straight through Angie's target. It wasn't enough.
Goddammit, Leroy.
Jensen keeps his poker face in place for the cameras. If he were facing Carlos or Angie, he'd give them a big smile, confident he could take those schemers down. Carlos has made it far on his rifle skills, a hunter from the time he could hold a gun, but there are so many skills Jensen could take him on. As for Angie-well, Jensen would welcome any excuse he gets to knock her out.
This is Jared. Jensen can't- He doesn't want to-
But Jensen isn't left with a choice. He's no longer in a competition because this is officially a disaster. There's no way he can face Jared tomorrow, not when it means one of them is inevitably going home.
And Colby hammers that point right through Jensen's skull with his next audio bit.
"Whatever happens in the elimination round, you should be proud of yourselves for making it to the final five," Colby's saying. "But for one of you, your Top Shot journey ends tomorrow. I'll see you bright and early on the practice range."
On to part two.
Jared/Jensen. NC17. AU of Top Shot.
10,500 words. Beta by raeschae.
Dial it in: to make small adjustments until you have the perfect shot.
Tonight, on TOP SHOT, revenge is the name of the game. Old challenges come back to haunt our final five marksmen as they compete in a new kind of obstacle course. With everyone's sights set on the 100,000 dollar prize, friendships and alliances in the house will be tested, and a pair of rivals will meet in our elimination challenge to see which one will continue on their quest to be our TOP SHOT.
SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA.
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
"What the fuck was that?"
Jensen cracks the bedroom door and glances towards the kitchen. The secondary camera team is milling down by the door to the patio, but the clattering comes from the eating area next to the kitchen.
"Sounds like Carlos knocked over another bar-stool."
"That fucker." Jared's voice is muffled by three layers of blankets. Mornings in the hills are chilly, but Jared acts like he's been forced to live in the tundra. "It's too early."
"That's two bucks you owe me," Jensen says, pulling on the only clean green polo shirt he has left. His old red shirts are hanging up next to Jared's blue ones in the closet, symbols of the rivalry they'd struck up as soon as the cameras were rolling.
"No cameras in here," Jared complains. "Besides, they can bleep me out."
"That wasn't the deal. A dollar every time you swear, man. It's not that hard to keep it clean."
Jared mumbles something that would probably earn Jensen another few bucks, but he lets it slide. The kid's gotten better since they all met. No one in the house was a saint, but Jared had a sailor's mouth and even Jensen wanted to shove a bar of soap in there to see if it would help. Wagering was the only way to get through Jared's thick hair and thicker skull; Jensen's up at least fifty bucks by now.
Three sharp knocks on their door and Leroy sticks his head in.
"You guys sleep alright?" Leroy asks. "Danno gave us the word to be up at the practice range in half an hour." Danno, one of their assistant producers, keeps them all on a pretty tight schedule in the mornings. "Is Jared gonna be up by then?"
"It'll make for better drama if he's not," Jensen says, grinning at the former marine, but Leroy's all business, shaking his head.
"Haul him out and come get some breakfast before it's gone."
"Yes sir."
Leroy's mouth twitches but whatever, Jensen's always polite. Grabbing his belt, he gives Jared's twin bed a good kick.
"I will end you," Jared threatens from within his blanket burrito.
"Get up or I'm not saving you anything to eat."
"I will end you twice."
"So damn lame," Jensen huffs, kicking the frame again. "Ass up, Padalecki. It's time for your next lesson."
TOP SHOT. DAY 2.
Jensen expects the patio to be empty.
Both camera crews are in the house and the rest of the Red team is celebrating their victory in the season's first challenge; the overconfidence strikes Jensen as being too obnoxious this early in the competition. Sure, Jensen's happy, but they're just getting started. No way in hell Jensen's getting cocky yet.
It's quiet out on the villa's patio, but Jensen's definitely not alone.
The kid, Jared, is slouched on a lounge chair, chin tucked into his chest. His Oakley shades are hooked on his shirt even though the sun's been down for an hour. It almost looks like he's sleeping, but as Jensen turns to go back inside, Jared speaks up.
"I think I'm going home."
"Excuse me?"
Jensen back tracks over the flagstone until he can see the kid's eyes. Confusion and anxiety don't make for a pleasant mix and those emotions are all over the kid's face.
Jared sighs. "They're gonna eliminate me."
"As far as I know, they can only vote for you to compete again. They can't actually vote you off the show. You have a chance."
More than just a chance, Jensen thinks. He'd caught site of Jared during the challenge, cataloging everyone's skills. The kid's a fast shooter, but he seemed especially nervous, has more to prove because he's the youngest competitor in the field. But Jared's team had lost and, from what Jensen's been hearing in the house tonight, the despondent Blue team is ready to throw their youngest under the bus.
It doesn't sit well with Jensen.
"So, you're Jensen?" Jared asks, uncrossing his scuffed cowboy boots and sitting up in the lounger.
"And you're Jared."
Jared laughs. "Guess I wasn't the only one actually paying attention to names. You're with the police, right?"
"Up in San Francisco," Jensen says. "Been there since I got out of the Marines two years ago."
"You're close to me, then. I'm in my first year at Stanford Law."
They trade small talk about the Bay Area and Jensen watches the panic seep out of Jared's eyes. It's hard to feel comfortable here given the show's hectic schedule and the pressure of competition, but Jensen finds himself relaxing. Jared's a good kid: twenty-three, a member of the National Rifle Team, and already being scouted for the Olympic shooting roster in the next summer games, he admits with a goofy grin.
"And you probably like long walks on the beach, too," Jensen jokes.
"Only if I'm taking them with my dogs, and then it's more like getting dragged down the beach."
Their conversation fades and the pin-pricks of starlight contrast with the sky's inky background. Jensen's chair faces Jared's, and their feet share space on the same uneven flagstone.
"Thanks, man," Jared says. "I know I'm your competition and all-"
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Dude-" Jared scoffs, but then he starts laughing. "Yeah, I had that one coming."
"Don't worry about tomorrow," Jensen tells him. "You haven't gotten to know your team yet, so they'll vote on perceived weaknesses, not bad shooting."
"They're gonna vote for me."
"If they do, then you kick ass against whoever you're shooting against and show them how wrong they were to underestimate you. You're a quick thinker, and a fast shot. Just don't let anything else get in your head during the elimination, and use your strengths."
Jared smiles. "Got any other lessons for me, Officer?"
"Tons, but you've gotta pull through tomorrow to hear them. Think you can manage that, Padalecki?"
"Yeah," Jared says with renewed vigor. "I think I can."
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
"It's definitely gonna be a multi-weapon challenge," Carlos remarks to the group, looking at the display of firearms, throwing knives, and-aw, dammit!-bows laid out on tables in front of their practice range.
"Alright, shooters!" Colby sounds more awake than any of them, probably up for hours in hair and make-up before meeting them up here. Colby's smile is white and Texas-wide, cheeks brown from the wind and sun. "Today you're going to get the chance to redeem yourselves. In front of you are weapons you're going to recognize from old challenges."
Colby runs down the list of weapons, flubbing his dialogue a few times and stopping to re-film, laughing apologetically when Jared mocks his mistakes. As their host talks, Jensen's going through each weapon in his head, remembering the challenges they were a part of and identifying his weaknesses. Jensen doesn't even want to acknowledge the long recurve bow sitting innocently on the second table. He's not Robin Hood, for God's sake.
"There's the recurve bow, used in our fourth challenge, and the 1873 Winchester rifle, the gun that won the West." Colby points out the HK93, one of Jensen's favorite rifles, next to the TZ99's and Smith & Wesson's.
Jared is eyeing the Beretta shotgun, scowling. He didn't have a good encounter with that one, Jensen remembers.
"During today's session, you'll each be given the same amount of practice time. You can split your time between two weapons to refamiliarize yourself, or take the entire time to practice with a single weapon, but you cannot practice with more than two weapons, so choose carefully. Craig Sawyer and Garry James, two of our training experts, are here to help you out. You'll draw randomly for practice order, so let's get started."
Jensen draws the first slot; Jared draws the last. He tries to block out the sight of Jared pacing behind the practice tables, chewing on his thumbnail.
The crew splits up; most of them remain on the practice range to film Jensen, but a few return to the house with the rest of the shooters. Private practice has its advantages but Jensen's already a little jittery.
He gets through twenty minutes with the Winchester, solidifying the feel of the rifle in his hands, the pressure of the trigger and the force of the kick-back. Jensen learns to absorb it throughout his body, unshakable, and then he moves to the recurve.
"Here we go again," he mutters, the microphone attached to his collar easily picking it up. "I bet this would be easier if I had tights."
Back at the house, Jensen finds Jared in the kitchen scarfing down half a box of cereal.
"I thought you had breakfast," he says, dropping his windbreaker on the stool next to Jared.
"Elevensies," Jared mumbles, cornflakes in the corners of his mouth.
"What?"
"Nevermind." Jared gets everything in his mouth and swallows. "How'd it go?"
"Frustrating, but you'll see. Choosing what to practice on was pretty easy." Jensen grabs a banana from the mosaic bowl on the counter. "Where's the camera crew?"
"Outside I think," Jared says. "After Leroy left to practice, Carlos and Angie went outside. I don't think I was invited, you know what I mean?"
"Any problems?"
Jared knows what Jensen's getting at. Since the merge between the two teams, Angie's gotten more aggressive towards Jared where the cameras won't catch her.
"You mean, did she touch me in a bad place, Officer?"
Jared's got an irresistible smirk so Jensen lets the familiar joke play out. He leans in close, conspiratorially.
"Can you show me where the bad lady touched you?"
Jared laughs. Jensen loves that he's comfortable enough to let go, to be honest with Jensen, but of course there are times when sideline humor works better.
"Are you gonna make me forget the unwanted groping?"
Jensen stops with the banana in his mouth. Jared's eyes are wide, mostly amused, as if he's holding in another laugh at the sight of Jensen fellating a piece of fruit. But underneath, behind a layer of playfulness, is a more serious hurt. Jensen wants to offer a familiar comeback-tell Jared he'd be more than happy to touch him in any way deemed necessary, but he frowns and squeezes Jared's shoulder.
"Hey, seriously-"
"It's fine, Jensen," Jared cuts in, putting his hand over Jensen's. It's warm, intimate. Them. Jensen's glad the camera crew is outside filming Carlos and Angie's strategy session so he doesn't have to share the moment. "I can handle Angie. She's just trying to get to me."
"And me."
Jared cocks his head. "What do you mean?"
Jensen didn't mean for that to come out, but Jared's watching him in earnest. He looks around, checks to see that Brandon's not lurking around the corner with a hand-held camera. Flexing his fingers under Jared's, he sighs.
"Angie knows it gets to me, too. She always has."
"She does it to you?"
"Come on, Jared. You're not that dense," he says lightly.
Jared ducks his head, so much like he'd been doing when Jensen found him on the patio that first night. There's a blush spreading on his cheeks, but before Jensen can say anything else, heavy footsteps herald the return of the camera crew and their competition. Their hands drop just before Carlos comes around the corner with a cameraman on his heels.
Jensen silently curses when Angie sits right across from them at the counter, her big blue eyes dissecting the physical distance between Jensen and Jared. Jensen glares back when she throws him a smirk and he really hopes the cameras caught that.
He'll subtract a few bucks from Jared's running total for his mental tirade. It might be the least he can do for Jared, but he vows that it won't be the only thing.
TOP SHOT. DAY 9.
Eliminations rarely go down without a little bit of drama. But then without drama, the final show edits won't be nearly as exciting. Dress it up with professional shooters and zero skimpy outfits, and Top Shot's still a reality show, Jensen thinks. No getting away from that.
Tonight, Jensen's team is pissed. They've dominated the Blue team in the first three challenges and no one's happy about their streak being broken. Given his distracted performance and shoddy shooting, Jensen's the perfect scapegoat tonight.
There's a crew in the corner of Jensen's bedroom, failing to be subtle. Jensen tilts his head up and frowns at Brandon.
"You don't need me to say anything, right?"
"Nah," the cameraman says. "We're just shooting you sitting there, lookin' all pathetic."
"Should I pout some more?" Jensen likes Brandon. He's from Texas, grew up not far from Jensen, and his drawl's comforting. That and he never lets any of the marksmen stew for long when he needs a specific shot.
"You've got the mouth for it, Jenny."
"I hope to God they cut your sass out."
Brandon's laugh is cut off by the bedroom door opening. Jared appears, white-socked feet noiseless on the hardwood floor. Brandon's crew is immediately focused on Jared, chatter going quiet.
"Hey, man. Rough luck tonight."
Jensen bristles despite Jared's soft consolation. "It wasn't luck."
"So, what was it then?"
As Jared sits down on the bed across from him, Jensen's almost impressed that Jared doesn't bite back at Jensen's bitter tone. He's calm, ears open, and willing to listen no matter how much Jensen wants to beat on him.
The cameras keep rolling, probably hoping for Jensen to snap and give them an earful.
"I don't know what happened," Jensen starts, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Maybe I'm not as good as I thought."
"We were shooting with bows and arrows, Jensen. No one was good today. Like, whoever sucked less was gonna win this one." Jared smacks his hand down on Jensen's knee, gentle pressure to bring Jensen's eyes up. "This time, it really was luck."
"I did so bad."
"So don't fuckin' think about it."
"Man, you shouldn't swear," Jensen chides him, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. "This is for television."
"I can't help it, I've got a sailor's mouth."
Jensen raises an eyebrow. "You do, huh? Maybe I should charge you a dollar every time you swear until you stop."
"You're gonna end up a poor man then."
The room's quiet for a few minutes except for the electronic buzz coming from the camera crew. Jensen can't stop circling back to seeing the target with his name under it being obliterated on the nomination range. The Red team's first trip to elimination, and Jensen was nominated without a second thought.
Bows and fucking arrows. Jensen had thought Colby was kidding when the host pulled out the antiquated weapons.
But the weapons weren't the only thing troubling Jensen. The man sitting across from him has more to do with Jensen's distraction than he wants to admit out loud.
There's something brewing between Jensen and Jared, something that the competition and good-natured rivalry don't account for. They can't talk all the time, but ever since the first elimination challenge, when Jared walked confidently back into the house as the challenge survivor and found Jensen's eyes, they've progressed to a point beyond friendship.
Only, Jensen's not the only one in the house who thinks they have a connection with Jared.
Angie is one of two women in the competition. Jordan, a show shooter for Wild West reenactments, is all Southern-drawl and Dixie-manners, bringing humor and a motherly warmth to Jared's team. But Angie's all fire and grit, holding her own on Jensen's team. She's brazen, a hot-shot coming up through the ATF, and she's attracted to Jared; Jensen had no trouble figuring that one out. Not to mention, she's sharp. She sniffed out Jensen's bond with Jared almost as soon as it formed, and it irked her.
Angie had been all mouth on the morning of their bow and arrow practice session, dropping comments about Jared and making sure Jensen was there to hear. Baiting, caring more about distracting Jensen than making sure their team was solid. She's dangerous, Jensen knows that now, and he's not going to make the mistake of underestimating her again.
That is, if he lasts through tomorrow's challenge.
"You're going up against David, right? You can beat him, Jensen."
"I know." Jensen's not kidding. David's abilities come and go depending on the challenge. He's been reliable-never great but never terrible, either-and that's all Jensen can say about the Federal Air Marshal on his team.
Jensen's just not one-hundred percent sure his head's in the right place to pull out a victory.
"Try to survive, alright?"
"Are you saying you'd miss me, Padalecki?"
If nothing else, the cameras are gonna get plenty of banter out of the two of them.
"Gotta keep Team Jay-Two together, man!"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Jensen asks with mock exasperation. "We're not on a team."
"Fine," Jared laughs. "Then I'd miss the opportunity to beat your ass again."
"Take it all in," Jensen teases, breathing a little easier. Underneath everything, he senses Jared's camaraderie and the faith he has that Jensen will pull through. It may not mean much when it comes to pulling the trigger tomorrow-or shooting those damn bows-but it definitely means something. "Because I'm not gonna let it happen again."
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
"Jared, hey. Wait up-"
Before Jensen can make it through the door of their bedroom, it slams in his face. Cameras are there to catch the whole thing, but when Jensen looks to Brandon, his pal waves the crew off.
"Let's take five," Brandon says, directing everyone out of the hallway. He gives Jensen a nod over his shoulder and follows the rest of his crew.
Jensen's stomach is sour and he's exhausted from the challenge. Colby had dropped them in a shooter's obstacle course like they were in a cheap game show: multiple weapons and multiple objectives. Sure, the viewers would get a kick out of it, but the course was mentally grueling, each of them taking their turns competing for the best overall time. It had taken the better part of the afternoon to film and in the end, Jared's time sent him to the bottom of the pack. As the slowest, Jared was automatically up for elimination.
Ending up in second place behind Leroy, Jensen could only stand helplessly as Colby informed Jared that he was being sent to elimination. Jared's face had been pinched; he was angry and barely responsive. Once they were given permission to head back to the house, Jared had taken off, stride too much for Jensen to keep up.
Jensen considers knocking, but Jared's good at avoiding people when he thinks his silence will make a point. It's easier to walk in and face Jared's wrath than wait with the unknown.
"Jared, I'm coming in, okay?"
What he finds isn't what he expects. Jared's on his bed, but he's not curled up against the wall or hiding his face; he's not angry or destructive. He's sitting on the edge of the mattress with one of his bags pulled up at his feet, and he's holding something small between his fingers, staring down with his lips in a tight line.
Jensen waits before crossing the chaos of personal belongings strewn across their floor. The bedroom used to belong exclusively to the Red team but as the competition dwindled down to only a few, spaces were rearranged and Jared moved in. It worked for the most part. Jensen and Jared could navigate around each other without much of a fuss, and Jensen welcomed the extra support.
"This isn't a real medal, you know?" Jared holds up the small bronze disc clinging to a red ribbon. He turns it between his fingers; the metal must be soft and warm by now. "My dad got it for me when I was a kid and I was just starting to get into shooting competitions. Man, I sucked back then."
Jensen laughs; it may not be the appropriate reaction but it's what Jared needs. He smiles and looks up.
"I never won anything, and eventually I got so bummed my parents didn't know what to do. So, my dad got me this medal. He told me that he thought I was a great shooter, and that I'd grow up to be an expert. He said that all I needed was a little victory to get me going."
"You've kept it all this time?"
"My mom sewed it into my duffel when I got to high school so I'd always have it. I forgot about it..."
Jared trails off and sighs. Jensen sits next to him, closer than he's used to. He understands Jared's attachment to his dad's medal; sometimes what matters is what you walk away with when you don't win it all.
"Hey-"
"I don't want to talk about the challenge," Jared interrupts. "It was bound to happen sometime, you know? I mean, I never seriously thought I could win this. I'm sure no one expected me to do much of anything when I first got here."
"I did."
"I know, Jensen," Jared says gently. He tightens his fist around the medal and holds it to his chest. "Thank you." He's quiet for a moment before he starts chuckling and shaking his head. "But hell, if I'm going down tomorrow, then I'm going down fighting. I don't care who I have to face, they're gonna have their work cut out."
"What if it's Angie?"
Jared's smile shines all the way into his eyes, dimples deep and cheerful. "If I'm up against her, I'll give her a lot more than my ass to worry about. She's over, Jensen. Seriously."
"I'm with you, man," Jensen says, bumping Jared's shoulder. "We've gotta get her out of here."
"Carlos is never gonna vote for her. You're close to Leroy, ex-Marines and all. Think you can bring him around to shoot Angie's target?"
"It's worth a try."
And hell, Jensen's definitely going to try. Leroy had been a mentor for Jensen when they were both on the Red team, but lately, with the competition winding down to the final days, the middle-aged Desert Storm sniper has been more focused on taking out his competition rather than being fair. Everyone wants to win, Jensen supposes. Although right now, looking at Jared and staring down the possibility that Jensen might lose him, winning doesn't feel all that shiny.
"Damn straight," Jared adds. "You and me, Jensen. We're gonna make it all the way through this thing."
TOP SHOT. DAY 14.
"And that, gentlemen, is how it's done." Gabe tosses the cue onto the felt and throws his arms up. "Now, who wants a lesson?"
"Man." Jared laughs and slaps Gabe on the back. "Shut up."
The wide living room in the front of the house is dominated by an elegant pool table. In a house filled with marksmen, it's been damn popular, but Jensen has yet to see Jared take a turn. Gabe, a young construction worker and pistol champion, has been flaunting his billiard skills, goading his housemates into playing him. It had only taken Gabe twenty minutes to beat Jordan, but she's good-humored about the loss, grabbing a seat next to Leroy on the couch. And now Gabe's looking for his next challenger.
"You must suck," Gabe is telling Jared. "I haven't seen you play once. Ashamed or something?"
"Or something." Jared looks over at Jensen and winks. "Wanna teach me?"
"Sure, man."
From the armchair, Jensen's focus is half on the thriller in his hands and half on Jared circling the table, bending over to take his shots.
Jensen's not blind-he can shoot the stem off an apple at fifty feet-and he's definitely not ignorant, so he can acknowledge the fact that Jared's a good looking guy; he's fit, focused, and always up for a laugh. What throws Jensen is the idea that he's meeting Jared here of all places. He works in San Francisco, so he's met his fair share of handsome gay men, automatically ruling out any guy who thinks Jensen's poorly dressed up as one of the Village People when he's wearing his uniform. No way his Lieutenant would let him get away with pants that tight.
Walking into this competition, Jensen hadn't been prepared to meet anyone. He knows better than to pursue anything major while he's in the house, but if he and Jared keep hitting it off the way they have been, Jensen's pretty sure he'll at least gain a life-long friend. No use thinking about more right now, though. He's got a competition to win.
That doesn't mean Jensen can't appreciate Jared's ass when it's being paraded around the table.
"What'dya say, Jensen?" Jared waves the cue in front of Jensen's face. "Wanna take my skills for a test drive?"
And then there are comments like that, given with a smirk and a clever eye.
"I hope you learned a thing or two."
They flip to break and Jensen wins. Their audience shrinks when Danno sticks his head in the room and announces dinner.
"Just admit you're gonna lose right now," Jensen offers, "and I'll let you go eat."
"Take your shot, Officer. Food can wait."
Jensen sinks one striped ball off the break and another on his second shot. Jared sidles between Jensen and the front windows to get around the table.
"Man, you're built like a house."
"You'd never know it when I was a kid," Jared says, setting up his first shot. "I was gangly, all knees and elbows and big feet, you know? My mom used to call me 'Colt' because I'd stumble over everything."
As soon as Jared takes his shot, Jensen knows he's been had. It's a double strike right off the bat. Jensen should have known better; Jared's smirk is a telltale sign of imminent danger.
"I don't believe it," Jensen grumbles, watching another solid ball slide into the side pocket. "You're a shark."
"Nah. I just spent a lot of time at pool halls with my buddies in college. Learning and playing was the best way to stay mostly sober those nights."
"Not a big drinker?"
Jared shakes his head and studies the table, leaning one elbow on his cue. "I'm not too big on losing control. I like having a good time, don't get me wrong, but beyond a few beers, things can get a little fuzzy."
"Gotcha." Jensen's not big on drinking either; he's seen too much overseas and on the streets to want to tempt fate just for a buzz. Jared leans down, and Jensen sighs. "Man, do I even want to bother with this game?"
"Hey, if you can't handle a little challenge-"
Jensen grins. At this point, they've got the room to themselves and there are worse ways to spend a night than shamelessly flirting and getting his ass handed to him by a law student-cum-billiard shark.
"Shut up and take your shot."
"Yes, sir!"
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.
When it happens, it happens fast. For Jensen, it's a blind-side. Jared's thin lips and tight eyes mean he'd suspected something going into the vote.
"That's two votes for Angie and three votes for Jensen," Colby repeats for the fourth time, high winds blowing static into everyone's mics. "Sorry, Jensen. You've been elected by your teammates to join Jared in the elimination challenge."
Carlos and Angie look smug enough to light a fire. Leroy lets his headphones twirl in his fingers; he isn't as pleased with himself, uncomfortable with Carlos and Angie's scheming.
Fuck. Jensen doesn't give away even the slightest twitch for the cameras. I thought I had Leroy on my side.
Three bullet holes mar his target on the nomination board. Carlos and Angie, high on their horses, had turned his name into J NS N, taking out the E's with the kind of precision that would have helped them out on the obstacle course. Leroy's shot was high, nearly off the target, as if he couldn't bring himself to desecrate Jensen's name.
Jared looks at him, apology written all over his face, but Jensen's pragmatic enough to know that there was nothing Jared could have done besides put his bullet straight through Angie's target. It wasn't enough.
Goddammit, Leroy.
Jensen keeps his poker face in place for the cameras. If he were facing Carlos or Angie, he'd give them a big smile, confident he could take those schemers down. Carlos has made it far on his rifle skills, a hunter from the time he could hold a gun, but there are so many skills Jensen could take him on. As for Angie-well, Jensen would welcome any excuse he gets to knock her out.
This is Jared. Jensen can't- He doesn't want to-
But Jensen isn't left with a choice. He's no longer in a competition because this is officially a disaster. There's no way he can face Jared tomorrow, not when it means one of them is inevitably going home.
And Colby hammers that point right through Jensen's skull with his next audio bit.
"Whatever happens in the elimination round, you should be proud of yourselves for making it to the final five," Colby's saying. "But for one of you, your Top Shot journey ends tomorrow. I'll see you bright and early on the practice range."
On to part two.