In My Dreams You're Blowing Me...Some Kisses [NC17] Jared/Jensen (the Suck Seed remix) Part Four

[queenklu]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four


Jared runs on autopilot all the way home, sleeps like the dead, and goes to class the same way. Chad texts him half-way through letting him know he’s not coming in, < bitch of a hangovr, > and Jared thinks about all the liquor he’d like to drink but can’t afford, and the way it’s going to be spilling through his hands tonight at work.

He still has a job, though, thanks to Jensen. He’s not going to need to sell a kidney to pay for gas, thanks to Jensen. And he can keep thanking him as long as it doesn’t have to be out loud.

It’s not like he needs his internal organs.

Jared’s having a big gay freak out, if he’s being honest with himself. Which he’s not, but. You know. If he was.

As far as big gay freak outs go, he wishes he could dredge up some fucking surprise about it. He doesn’t feel that particular emotion until Chris is picking up his first Arrogant Bastard Ale of the night and casually dropping, “Jensen’s not on the floor tonight. Don’t go pimping his ass, someone’s using it,” before he turns to leave.

“Hey,” Jared blurts before he can help himself. “He’s…okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Chris says like there’s never been a person alive with more shit for brains. “Jesus. He’s not some soggy flower…pony. You ain’t the first straight boy he’s fucked.”

The glass Jared was polishing hits the ground and shatters, but it’s not anything profound. It just slipped from his grasp.

When he’s done picking up the pieces there’s a fifty dollar bill in his tip jar.

The girls stop talking to him except to order drinks, but it takes him just under an hour to realize, so it might not be their fault. Except that Misha hasn’t come near the bar all night, and Mike won’t even meet his gaze. The whole floor is brightly tense, laughs just a little too loud, painted smiles tight. The patrons don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on, but with every employee in the place sending out don’t fuck with me vibes the girls get them off the floor quicker.

Jared puts on his own tight smile when he thinks about going to Sam, pitching a fit, saying “If this is how it’s going to be…” Because he knows he’s not leaving until they kick him out on his ass. His sense of pride is pretty much shot with how badly he needs that fifty.

“Beer, motherfucker.”

He doesn’t even raise his head to give the asshole a look, just to ask him what kind. And then his brain stops.

“Chad.”

“Yo,” Chad says the way some people say ‘fuck you.’ “Long time no fucking chitchat, douchebag.”

“I-I texted you this morning!” He’s so flustered his thumbs pantomime it.

“No, I texted you this morning, and I never got so much as a semicolon parenthesis back. And go blow your wad of surprise on someone else’s face, fudgepacker-‘death I think is no.’ I’m a fucking English Major.”

Jared swallows, trying his damnedest to wipe the shock off his face. “Codependent much?” is what he says, and Chad lunges across the bar to grab his shirt and drag him closer just so he can smack him upside the head. “OW!”

“You need money, you fucking tell me before you turn ass up for the first guy with ten bucks!” Chad thinks about it for a split second, then hits him again. “Assmunch!”

“Ow! Jesus, I wasn’t-” And then Chad is literally dragging him over the bar. Literally. Dragging him over. None of this ‘around’ bullshit, Chad has a fistful of his last good shirt and Jared knocks over three martinis and hits a tap with his elbow when his belly hits the bar top.

“Chad,” he yells the instant his feet are under him, well into his face with his teeth bared and a dark flush burning his face because every single eye in the place is turned their way. If they hadn’t been best friends since they were toddlers it might’ve even worked.

“I talked to Milo!”

“…Who?”

Chad scoffs with his entire being. “You don’t even know his name.”

“Whose name? Chad,” Jared tries again, yanking back this time when Chad pulls and forcing his voice into something urgent enough Chad might listen. Chris is prowling closer through the crowds and Jared’s pretty sure he saw Aldis run for Sam’s office the instant Chad started yelling. “Seriously. Dude. Calm the fuck down.”

“Calm the fuck down? My best dickwad of a friend in the whole motherfucking world is whoring himself out like a common slut and you want me to calm the fuck down?”

Several of the girls’ lips curl. One even recoils. Danny looks like she’s about to kill someone with her umbrella drink, and Jensen is standing with Aldis at the stairs.

“Chad.” Jared makes his eyes close, then focus on this instead of the feeling of every bone in his body crushing. “I don’t know who this Milo guy is, but did he tell you I work at the Ranch?”

“Yes, and-”

“As a bartender?”

“I-” Chad stops. Maybe for the first time realizes where Jared was standing when he came in. “…Ohh.”

“Yeah.” Jared can feel where Jensen is, knows with crystal clear memory from one glimpse that he’s in comfortable jeans and a loose t-shirt, fresh from a shower and whatever appointment was keeping him upstairs. What he can’t make himself decipher was the expression on his face.

“So…” Chad drawls, just as Kane reaches them. “Good or bad time to talk about employee discounts?”

~*~

Jensen watches Chris haul Jared’s squinty friend ass backwards out of the bar, even as the idiot throws winks and kisses and a, “Hey, you aint so common, baby,” at every scowling prostitute they pass. They start cooing at their marks harder than ever the instant that door shuts, and for a second the bar is so loud and fake it makes Jensen’s skin itch.

Not that that’s much different than what it was before. He’s been jittery and sick with it since he pulled himself off the bed last night to shower, and part of him wants to hate Jared for it.

Jared looks…stripped. Hands still curled like he had the last of something taken from him and he’s still used to holding it. Jensen would hazard a guess that something isn’t this ‘Chad.’

Aldis catches him before he goes too far, just a light touch on his elbow. “Jen, man…” is what he says, but he means Seriously, worth it? Jared turns his back on the bristling crowd to get a mop and broom for the drinks he spilled, and Jensen thinks-well, he doesn’t really let himself think, but if he did it’d be Yes.

“Hey,” Jensen says. Jared doesn’t flinch, but Jensen watches his throat work while he finds whatever he needs to meet Jensen’s gaze. Sort of Jensen’s gaze, his own is a little unfocused, detached. “Can I talk with you for a sec?”

“About?” Jared asks quietly like Jensen can’t see he thinks he doesn’t have much choice.

“Just…” Jensen tips his head towards the storage room behind the bar. “Real quick.”

“Jensen, I can’t.” Jared’s hands twitch towards the glass scattered across the floor. “People could get hurt.”

Jensen communes fast and silent with Aldis, who claps a sudden hand on Jared’s shoulder with a loud, “Hey, man, don’t worry about it, I got this one.” Danneel is one of the closest working girls, sends them all a sideways look, and Jensen’s hand is on Jared’s arm pulling him away from that before he can think why.

“So I have this job for you,” Jensen murmurs the instant the door closes, then takes a second to breathe in the smell of rough oak wood and sweet amaretto that Phil spilled in the corner while Jared blinks and wraps his head around the words. It’s a little bit easier to be inside his own skin in here, or at least fit behind one of his masks.

Until he actually makes eye contact with Jared, and his skin starts burning everywhere Jared touched last night.

“I have a job,” Jared says finally, like there’s not enough air in his lungs. “If Sam doesn’t fire me-”

“She’s not- She won’t,” Jensen promises, firm, makes sure his eyes stay locked on Jared’s so he knows he means it. He doesn’t mean them to stay as long as they do.

Jared’s the first to look elsewhere, Jensen blinking away whatever made his lungs seize up with the memory of-doesn’t matter. He’s still got his hand on Jared, sweating a little in the confines of the store room even though it’s a good ten degrees cooler in here than outside, so he drops it and tries not to be obvious when he rubs it dry.

“So this is like…an additional job.” There’s a wry twist of Jared’s lips Jensen wishes he hadn’t seen. “In my free time.” He’s got his shoulders set against a crate of scotch, heel of one boot on the first low shelf, and he’s all long lines that Jensen’s body has been trained to react to.

“Whenever free time happens,” Jensen stresses, shoving those urges back to the place with too-small clothing and eyeliner. “Seriously, you’ve never known flexible hours like these.”

“Jensen,” Jared sighs, and Jensen’s stomach flips over at the way Jared’s lashes fan across his cheekbones. “I-You don’t have to do this. I don’t know…what you got out of what I told you but I’m doing okay. Really.” His voice drops to a low, amused and self-deprecating roll. “I’m not going to be hitting up any soup kitchens soon, alright?”

“Yeah, but you’re-things are still tight, though,” Jensen points out, lungs pinched against his ribcage, “Jared… The money’s good. I’m not talking buy a Rolex and a matching Maserati, but enough to indulge in some brand names.”

Jared laughs, but it’s not pleasantly. “Jesus, Jensen-”

“Maybe,” Jensen starts, painfully aware that he’s pushing it. “Maybe even spring for some dog food.”

For a split second Jensen is dead sure he’s gonna get a fist to the jaw for his trouble and nice view of Jared’s legs stepping over him on the way out the door. He’s not too sure he doesn’t deserve it.

Then he takes a breath. “Yeah?” Jared’s jaw sets when he tilts it up; Jensen’s heartbeat stalls out, and it has nothing to do with nerves. “What’s the catch?”

Jensen’s hand is on the back of his own neck before either one of them can blink. His clothes feel weird against his body, all this movement he’s not used to from so much time spent in skin tight fabric, and he feels a little bit like a superhero without his costume. “It’s, uh. In the industry.”

Jared’s whole face collapses, strength snapping out of his shoulders, and it catches them both by surprise how much he’d built up since walking in here. “Jensen, I can’t. I can’t do what you do, let people paw all over me. I just can’t.”

Jensen knew that-knows that-and tries not to let it sting while he holds up his hands. “No pawing, no touching, you won’t even lay eyes on a client, swear to god.”

“Really?” Jared asks, doubtful, and Jensen tries not to imagine how hard he’d balk at the idea of offering Jared a position like his. Definitely doesn’t think about why. Then it clicks in Jared’s head exactly what he’s talking about, what he’s proposing, and his eyes roll in exasperation, dust spinning under the sharp turn of his boots. “Are you serious? You want me to-”

“Do what you’re good at,” Jensen cuts off, each word deliberately meant to derail any thoughts of this you want me business. “Come on, Jared. You can do it from wherever the hell you want, and swear to god, soon enough you’ll be able to do it in your sleep. Hell, while you’re studying. In the middle of a midterm, I will teach you how to get people off.”

That brings everything in the room not so much to a grinding halt than a spark flickering near a gas tank. Jensen swallows against a dry tongue and pastes on a politely hopeful look.

“Teach me?” Jared repeats, slow, like he heard wrong. “You’ll-what?”

“I show people the ropes, remember?” Jensen says, and it feels a little like what it was before last night, all the pieces just not quite slotted together. “When your shift gets done, if you’re interested.” His smile tastes as dusty and sweet as the amaretto-stained floors, but it’s a sight better than the leapfrogs in his stomach.

Jared looks…good. Tired, but…yeah. Better than when he came in. Probably still a bit of adrenaline in his blood after what happened on the floor, and all Jensen wants to do is-

“So we’re not gonna talk about it then?”

Jensen shifts his stance and instantly wishes he hadn’t forgotten about Jared’s bullshit meter. “Talk about what?”

Jared’s eyes are dark but not heated. “There’s a fifty in my tip jar.”

Jensen shrugs like he doesn’t know, easing sideways out of the room. “You serve a mean Cocksucking Cowboy.”

He’s only 90% sure the voice muttering, “Don’t have to tell me,” is in his head.

~*~

Jared’s not really going to do it. Really.

He doesn’t have free time.

So he just focuses on keeping his head down the rest of the night, trying to ignore the way the girls set their drinks down too hard and bite the ends of their words off when they order.

The third time Danneel does it, though, he breaks his own rules and looks up.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she says instantly, like she was waiting for it.

It takes a little doing, but he manages not to flinch. “I didn’t know Chad was coming,” he swears, each word deliberate, “I never even told him where I worked, and I’m sorry he said what he did but-”

“Yeah, and that right there is the problem. Jared.” Her nails are long and red tonight, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to sink them in the fleshy part of his arm. He still doesn’t move, and it takes a second to realize she’s waiting for him to make eye contact again. The paint around her eyes makes them look huge and alien, hard to decipher. “We’re used to the names and the secrets and the lies but not from each other, and not where Jensen is concerned. You fuck with him again and I’ll make you wish Chris got to you first.”

“I didn’t-do anything to Jensen!” His mind rolls out a heat wave of contradictions, and he shoves them aside before his gut can clench. “Dan, I didn’t hurt him.”

“Oh, bull.” Whatever game face she had on slips, and in her annoyance she looks younger, his age, and then her next words knock all of that from his head. “I know he canceled all of his appointments today. He wouldn’t come out of his fucking room except for you. Now you’re gonna tell me you had nothing to do with that?”

Something must show on his face, but he has honestly no idea what could make her expression go blank like that. “Oh.”

“Oh, what? What oh?” He sounds like an idiot, he knows he does.

“Nothing.” Her lips press in a tight smile, legs already sliding off the stool. “I’ll tell everyone to lay off.”

“Dan-”

“Hey,” she says, and her smile looks a little more genuine as she reaches out to pat his face, one deadly nail trailing under his chin. “Good luck.”

He wants to ask “With what?” and maybe throw in a “The hell?” but he also doesn’t want to sever his own jugular. And then Double-D’s mask slips on, and Dani’s left the building before she’s even on her feet.

Jared has no idea what she says, to who, or where, but all across the floor girls start to relax their smiles, until there’s this moment where the entire bar seems to let out a collective sigh of relief. The laughs get a little more real, drinks flow a little freer, and Jared notices it all with a detached sort of numbness.

What the hell did she mean, Jensen canceled his appointments? Why the hell would he do that? Jared’s dead certain if he’d physically hurt Jensen last night he’d’ve more than heard about it, but he can’t think of another reason. It’s like the pope playing hooky-only not so blasphemous, Jesus Christ.

The planets (or endorphins) align to make this one of the nights where people leave their empties everywhere, and maybe the fact that the girls don’t bring them to Jared on their way by is their last act of retribution. Other nights Chris might’ve helped out, gathering glasses like he’s doing it for the hell of it rather than anyone in particular, but tonight he’s out of there the second their last customer stumbles out of the door, which is just about right. Jared doesn’t mind taking the punishment, kind of even likes the way the bar feels with all the people plucked from it.

There’s a woman murmuring things about rusted brandy in a diamond glass bleeding through the speakers, and it makes something hot curl low in his belly as the glasses turn in his hands. Temptation…she sings, and his mind instantly shows him Jensen spread out on that bed, the way his mouth parted, the way his eyes burned even when they were muddled with what Jared was making him-

So he’s not…he’s not going to say yes. He’s just going to ask Jensen why.

It’s nearly an hour after his shift ends by the time Jared gets all the beer bottles chucked and the martini tumblers washed, and his hands are pruned when he knocks on Jensen’s door. Which doesn’t help at all with the nerves twisting in his belly.

It doesn’t really matter, though, if Jensen doesn’t open his door.

Jared’s half turned to leave when his ears pick up on a heavily muffled curse and then the door jerks open, and Jared’s heart just about stalls out.

"Hey," Jensen says, hair plastered to one side of his head with pillow lines along that cheek. Jared didn’t really get a chance in the walk-in to stare at how different his eyes were without eyeliner, and it shouldn’t be humanly possible for him to look that…something with them sleep puffy and unguarded. "Thought you weren’t-what time is it?"

"I, uh." Jared’s right back where he was at the beginning of the week, stumbling and fumbling, but his cheeks aren’t burning quite as bad. Can’t really, he needs all the help he can get figuring out what the hell just happened. "I got off late."

"Better late than premature?" Jensen tries with a smile. It should be corny as hell, or maybe a little bitter, but Jensen’s not all the way awake and it just comes out...making his heart flip over.

"Hey, man," Jared says quickly, "We don’t have to-I mean, I’m not, I didn’t come up here for that-"

Jensen just looks at him. "Uh-huh."

"I really didn’t."

"Look," Jensen sighs, "It’s not…that big a deal. And I did the math-" He makes a little self-conscious gesture over his shoulder where a laptop and a couple scattered bits of paper litter the satiny purple bed, and it hits Jared-Right. Then.-just how fucking gone he is. He can’t even really hear Jensen finishing up, talking about the average cost of dog food and some low cost rentals if his current landlord doesn’t allow pets; He can’t hardly breathe.

"What?" Jensen asks when he’s done, uncomfortable frown tugging his lips.

"Nothing," Jared says on autopilot, dragging himself back. "I’m just-I really appreciate it. This. You really didn’t have to."

"My appointments canceled," Jensen waves away, and Jared’s stomach swoops with the certainty he’s lying. "I didn’t have anything else to do.

"So," Jensen adds a little awkwardly when Jared’s too focused on schooling his expression into something not ‘ha ha CAUGHT YOU’ to answer. "We doing this?"

"Yeah, okay," Jared’s voice comes from far away, but the nodding is all him.

Honestly. Phone sex. How hard can it be?

---

Really fucking hard.

"So, uh, what are you wearing?"

"Jared, I will bet you ten billion dollars they’ll be the ones asking that question."

Jensen had stayed in the ‘entertainment suite’ because he said Jared needed to get comfortable doing this in a casual setting, but that also meant he’d left Jared alone in his apartment and Jared’s kind of stupid with it. He’s sitting on the floor because he can’t bring himself to lie on Jensen’s bed, and it’s honestly a lot less embarrassing to read every single title of the books and DVDs lining his shelves than pay attention to Jensen’s voice in his ear faking his way to an orgasm. He’s pretty sure that’s how this is going to go down, anyway.

"Okay, so ask me."

"What are you wearing?" Jensen drawls instantly, this low rumbling growl that makes Jared’s skin break out in goosebumps.

"Jesus."

"You’re wearing Jesus?" Jensen deadpans, then huffs out a breath. "Come on, Jared, it is not that hard."

"You aint kidding," Jared mutters, dragging a hand through his hair with a pointed glance at his lap. Not that Jensen can see, but he gets it anyway.

"You don’t actually have to get yourself off in phone sex, you know?"

"Hey, you have the Chronicles of Riddick box set!”

"Jared. Focus. Come on, Jay…" Jensen sounds one hundred percent sincere and desperate and kind of pleading, and suddenly it’s not such a problem anymore. "Just." He can feel Jensen’s eyes close, but he knows he has to be imagining the hitch in his breath. "Talk to me. Pretend I’m some random guy at the bar. What would you say?"

Jared gulps and just barely manages to get out, "Guys or girls?"

"Guys." Jensen’s smiling, indulgent. "Talking to you, aren’t I?"

Yeah, he is. "And, uh…" Jared slides a little lower, foot of the bed digging into his back. "What do you like?"

He’s not imagining the pause. But there are plenty of explanations for it. "I like…tall guys. Broad shoulders. Floppy hair. Dimples."

"Okay, now who’s not taking this seriously?" Jared’s belly feels hot, tight, and it’s nothing compared to whatever’s going on in his chest.

"Sorry," Jensen apologizes with a rumbling laugh that does nothing to appease that. "I like…"

"Tell me," Jared growls, and any humor left in the air snaps. That was the voice he used when Jensen-during. Just during.

Nothing. Jared’s throat and lungs burn with lack of air, but he just can’t. There’s no way Jensen will answer.

"I like knowing what people want." Jensen’s voice is so low it’s almost hoarse, a little bit broken, and Jared knows it’s true. "I like…being able to give it to them. Fuck," he adds in a whisper, then shoves onward, almost angry. "I like bending over for tops and bending over the bottoms, I like people who know what they want and people who just can’t admit it. Like showing them what I’m good at, like letting them show me."

Just want to be useful. Want to be needed.

Jared lets out a shaky breath, his own hand feeling like a branding iron on his thigh. "What gets you off, Jen?" he asks, murmurs, because Jensen doesn’t even probably realize he’s not answering the question. "Sure-fire, bullet-proof, turns you on until you can’t hardly stand it, doesn’t matter who’s touching you."

"Rimming," Jensen responds after a split second hesitation, somehow sure and vulnerable at the same time. "And when a guy tells me what he’s gonna do, how he’s gonna do it, gets me hot all over. Jared?"

He jumps a little at the prompt, tries not to think about other parts of his anatomy jumping too. Squeezes his eyes shut, just puts a hand on himself to quiet his dick. "You like…them licking you? Holding you open, holding you down?"

And then Jensen moans.

"Jesus Christ, Jen," Jared breathes, almost a whine, words spilling out of his mouth before he knows what they are. "You got a hand on yourself?”

Of course he doesn’t. This is pretend, practice. Jensen’s just…really fucking good and maybe Jared’s lie detector’s getting thrown by phone distortion.

"Fuck. Fuck, yeah, I do."

Holy shit, it isn’t. Maybe Jensen would’ve been able to pull this off-lying that he isn’t really doing what he’s saying he is-but Jared’s heard him when it’s real.

Jared bites his lip hard enough to bruise before he remembers he’s supposed to keep talking. "Never got to see you jack off," and okay, that’s not exactly as non-specific as they were keeping it before, but Jared can’t fucking help it. "Bet you’ve got it down to an art, fingers hitting all the spots that make your legs shake. Bet you could get yourself off in under a minute if you wanted."

"Now," Jensen says, lets out a shuddering breath that ties a thousand knots in Jared’s gut. "Tell…Tell me what you’d do if you were here."

It’s supposed to put him back in the moment, remind him that this isn’t real, and all it really does is piss Jared off. "I’d flip you." His voice comes out guttural, hard. "Push your legs wider but you’d spread for me anyway, wouldn’t you?"

Jensen breathes out like he’s been hit, and Jared knows he’s going to try and stop this before the words get out. "Fuck, okay-"

"I’ve never rimmed anyone before." Jared lets the words drag, nails digging deep into his thighs. He wants to jerk off, can’t remember a time when he wanted to more, but that’s not the game. "Bet it’s not too different from eating out a girl, though."

Jensen sucks in a lungful of air on the tail end of a sound that makes Jared throb.

"So I’d start like that. Lick you from just under your balls then curl the tip of my tongue into your hole."

"Jared-"

"And you’d just keep-bucking up into it, into my tongue." Jared’s breathing too hard, has to pinch the bridge of his nose and hunch a little, trying to get back some control. "Have to hold you down, Jen. Put a hand on the small of your back and pin your hips to the bed, make you fuck against those satin sheets as much as you could move."

"Oh yeah, baby, give it to me." Jensen grits out the blatant line through his teeth, and okay, so he’s caught on. Jared rides out a shudder, clenches his jaw so hard it hurts.

"Not going to give you what you want." His voice is so deep it feels like it’s tearing at his throat. "Because it’s me you want, right? You want my cock fucking into you again, want me to use you."

There’s that cry again, like he’s been belly-shot. "Jared-"

"Could you feel me the next day? That why you canceled your appointments, because you could still feel me balls deep in your ass?"

"Fuck you," Jensen gasps out, and that’s the last fucking straw.

"If you aren’t touching yourself yet you better get a fucking hand on that cock, Jensen."

Jensen makes this choked off broken little noise, then plows over all of that before the thrill finishes racing through Jared system with, "Okay, you’ve got it, I’ll put in a word with Sam," and he hangs up.

Jared’s on his feet before his cock can remind him that blood flow is being directed elsewhere, so he nearly falls a couple times but he makes it to the door before Jensen’s up off the bed. Barely, since he’s got one leg on the floor. His shirt’s rucked up and his jeans are slung low and unbuttoned but zipped, and he’s got mean, want, and skittish warring for dominance across his features. Jared can’t help what comes out of his mouth.

"You want to grab dinner sometime?"

Oh. Shit.

"What?" Jensen hisses like the air’s been punched out of him. "What the-" He cuts himself so fast it has to hurt. Pale. And there’s no makeup to help hide his emotions, which just makes it that much worse.

"I’m sorry, that came out- You probably get-"

"Yeah," Jensen jumps in, "I really-do." He sounds like he’s choking on whatever expletives want to come out, and Jared doesn’t have a clue why he’s not saying them.

"But I mean it," Jared says, taking another step towards the bed. "I know you’re going to tell me this is all a by-product of some sexual identity crisis, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed that I’m kind of good at sensing bullshit."

Jensen’s mouth opens, and then shuts. Jared’s stomach drops to the bottom of his shoes.

"I know I can’t really…afford you-"

"So this is your way of getting free professional sex."

Jared huffs, dropping his head with a little smile because he should have seen that one coming.

"Fuck you." Jensen’s off the bed and in his face before Jared realizes he’s moving. Just as fast he’s shoving Jared out of the way, making tacks for his room. "Just because you got me off once-Orgasms don’t mean shit, Jared!” When Jensen turns to round on him he’s definitely not expecting Jared so close on his heels, almost crashes right into him. "Jesus fuck, back off."

"Jensen." Jared wants really badly to grab him by the shoulders and shake, but he also kind of needs his fingers unbroken. "I didn’t mean- I meant, the dates might have to be a little low key. At first. I meant I’m not the type of guy you usually go out with."

Jensen tugs in a breath. Then, "If I wanted a fucking sugar daddy I could have one," and he just looks…young.

"Dude," Jared says like he’s kinda dumb instead, "I know. I don’t want to be your sugar daddy, and not just because I can’t afford it."

"This is so stupid," Jensen spits out under his breath. "Okay, man, you know how when you eat chocolate or you jerk off and all these happy endorphins-"

"Seriously, Jensen, what’s the worst that could happen?" In all honesty he’s not too sure he wants to hear the answer, so before Jensen can do more than open his mouth he’s right there, in Jensen’s space, still a little hard in his jeans because it’s kind of impossible to be around Jensen Ackles and not pop wood. "I want…to spend time with you," he says, trying desperately to convey how much he meant it the first time, before they even fell into bed. "And I think…I think you’d like that too."

He has no fucking clue what Jensen thinks.

Especially when he takes a step back. "Jared… The whole suddenly gay issue aside-"

"Bi," Jared corrects with whatever cheek he can muster on short notice.

"Okay, whatever. In the hypothetical crazy ‘verse where I say yes and…date you," he forces out with a wide-eyed hand gesture, "what happens the first time I’m back on the floor? What happens when I take a guy upstairs, or even a girl? You’re telling me that’s gonna sit just fine with you.”

Jared’s stomach flip flops and his face goes a little warm, but his voice is nice and even when he answers. "Been doing okay so far."

Jensen jerks back another step, hand shooting out between them. "What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Don’t even. I know arousal the way you know bullshit so what was that?" Jensen’s just gaping at him and Jared has no idea what to say. "You… What, you get off on knowing I’m with other people?"

"No! Of course I…" Jared is trying to imagine a time when he’d felt more embarrassed about anything, and it’s a little bit frightening when even his first meeting with Jensen doesn’t compete. "I get…" His eyes squeeze shut, open with a wave of his eyebrows and his gaze somewhere else. "Uh, aroused as you say, um. Actually, when you. When you come back…downstairs." Cringe.

He knows Jensen’s still staring at him like he’s grown another head. But he’s pretty sure neither of them saw what Jensen says next coming: "You a sloppy seconds guy, Jay?"

Okay, so it’s not what he says, but how he says it. Jared’s not too dumb about detecting arousal himself, and that low timbre is just about halfway to hitting the voice Jensen uses on marks.

"Uh," Jared says intelligently, "…maybe?"

Jensen stares. Blatantly. "…That’s a little fucked up. For you. I’ve had clients with that kink, and honestly you don’t-"

"It’s not an actual sloppy seconds kink!” It isn’t. Really. And he has no clue how he’s going to convince Jensen of that. "It’s…It’s just you. It’s those endorphins you were talking about, and you always come down those stairs looking…happy. I like seeing you happy and sex makes you happy so obvious conclusion: I’m not going to disapprove of your day job. Hell, with this phone sex thing, it’ll kind of be my day job too."

Jensen runs a hand halfway through his hair and tugs, dropping his gaze, and Jared knows that’s bad.

"Hey, you don’t have to-say yes or anything right now." He is so stalling the inevitable, and feeling kind of like a girl while he does it. "Just, uh," he adds with what he hopes is a masculine cough, "think about it and get back to me?"

Jared’s out the door before Jensen says anything, and the sad part is he took his time leaving.

~*~

"What. The. Hell."

It took him just over a week to spill his guts to Chris, and 90% of that was because he’s been kind of zombie walking through his appointments. Zombie fucking? Okay, no, that sounds wrong.

"I know. I know," Jensen groans into the table top, one hand inching for Kane’s alcohol so he doesn’t have to go up to the bar to get it.

And Jared’s been good. Jared’s been smiling. Jared’s been easy and flirty and fun and did he mention the flirting? Who the hell decided teaching Jared to work a phone sex line was a good idea? It’s like that red stuff they give the guy with big lips on TV that turns him into an evil superhero instead of just a gay one.

It’s only lately that Jared’s smiles have gotten a little dimmer. Jensen kind of hates that he knows and misses how bright Jared’s smiles can be.

"Jenny, get your paws off my beer." Chris sounds like his mama, and Jensen grumbles something to the effect. "Jen, if your mama knew what you were doing she’d take that big ol’ ladle off the top shelf and beat you upside the head."

"She already knows I’m a hooker," Jensen points out on a sigh, pushing his forehead deeper into the table then banging it a couple times to see if it’ll go through. Jensen’s mama is one of those crazy forces of nature who somehow found it in her big heart to accept what he was doing with the same grace she showed when she caught him kissing the neighbor boy down the block when he was thirteen (both he and the boy, Jensen’s never been a pedophile). She still worries, and always sends him home with boxes of condoms at Christmastime even though he’s told her a million times that Enthrall ‘Em Bunny’n’Steer Ranch provides contraceptives for free.

"That’s not what I was talkin’ about." Chris clips Jensen’s grasping fingers with his bottle. "Get your own damn beer. And while you’re at it, suck it the fuck up-and yeah, I mean it like that-and talk to your boy."

"He’s not-" Jensen grits his teeth and lifts his head. "You want me to get him fired for bunny fucking?"

"Oh for-I saw you at his indoctrination so quit spittin’ shit."

So maybe Sam had made Jared an official bun-steer now that he was working the phones. It was standard protocol, but it sure didn’t help that rumors said Jared was already in the top five pay slot. Jensen only went because Danneel threatened to castrate him if he didn’t, but he didn’t stay long and he didn’t congratulate Jared because Jensen is an asshole.

…He kind of understands why his mama should take a ladle to him.

Kane grabs him by the chin and holds his gaze, rough voice dropping into something almost gentle. "You ever heard of the expression, ‘shit or get off the pot?’"

"I hate that expression."

"Yeah, well." Chris makes Jensen’s head turn towards Jared, who’s rubbing down a handful of beer glasses during the lull. It’s not even erotic, just…makes Jensen feel like he’s been soaking for hours in the ranch’s company hot tub.

Chris’s steel-toed boot connecting with his calf snaps him out of it, and when he jerks his kneecaps hit the table so hard it jumps and throws his drink into the air. "OwmothersonofafuckingBITCH, Kane!"

"Shit," Chris hisses, hands soaked where he went to grab the bottle, then he fixes Jensen with a glare Jensen hasn’t seen since that big guy from Detroit tried to rough up Sandy. "What the hell are you scared of, Jensen?"

"Besides the fact that you might’ve cracked my femur?" Jensen spits though his teeth, trying to ignore the flip flop in his chest at hearing him use his whole name. Honestly, Jensen wasn’t too turn Chris knew his full name.

Chris stares at him a split second and then he’s on his feet, cuffing Jensen upside the head again and again until he tumbles out of his seat onto the floor, yelping as Chris snarls, "Get out of my booth and go to your boy!”

"Fuck off," Jensen mutters as he scrambles to his feet. He’s lucky Misha’s latest mark just paid him to make out with Mike on the pole-dancing stage, or people would’ve been a lot more interested in their corner of the bar. "He’s not-"

"And get me another fucking beer!”

When Jensen’s eyes stop rolling they somehow land on Jared, who’s sending a cautious smile and a not-entirely-serious peace sign their way. Or his way, as Chris has already thrown himself back in his seat. Jared has his head down when Jensen looks back, and…okay, yeah, his chest hurts when he sees how fast that smile is gone and he’s kind of…maybe Jensen’s found he enjoys his appointments more when he can picture someone tall with dimples and floppy hair-

Oh for fucks sake.

"Hi!” he blurts the instant he’s within speaking distance of the bar, and Jared’s head snaps up and lights up and then fits into something trying not to be wary and resigned.

"Hey," he says anyway with half a smile. "How are things? Haven’t talked to you for a while."

"Yeah…sorry." Jensen can’t help an embarrassed wince. "Things are…good?"

"You sure about that?" Jared laughs, but he doesn’t mean it. There’s a look in his eyes Jensen’s seen before-hell, even on his own face. That sure-as-hell-know-I’m-gonna-get-dumped.

Jensen’s throat works once before he talks. "How’s the phone sex gig working out for you?"

"Uh, great, actually," Jared says, sounding surprised, maybe that Jensen asked. "I’m headed out to San Antonio on Tuesday to get my kids. My dogs," he adds quickly, before Jensen’s eyes can widen too far.

"That’s awesome." Jensen gulps again, but there is really nothing in his mouth worth swallowing. Not like that. "So, uh…San Antonio, huh? I’m from Richardson."

"Okay, seriously Jensen," Jared snaps, but it doesn’t come out sounding angry. The ache in Jensen’s chest gives a painful throb. "Can we just… Can you just tell me you’re not interested so that maybe I can get started on getting over you any time soon?"

Jensen’s eyes drop to the counter, throat contracting a couple more times as he watches his thumbnail try to dig into the varnish. His voice comes out small. "Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?"

Even without eyes on him Jensen knows when Jared’s spine stiffens, knows that he is walking a very fine line that could very well get him punched.

"Sure." Now Jared’s mad, each word bitten off. "What can I get you?"

"I’d like a Negra Modelo but I’d-" Jensen catches Jared’s wrist when he turns to leave, but he can’t make himself raise his head. "I’d really like to have it…after your shift is done."

Jared goes still under his hand.

"And it doesn’t have to be here," Jensen adds in case he wasn’t clear enough. "And I’d kind of like to drink it with you. If you’re free."

Nothing. Jensen drags in a deep breath and lifts his gaze. Not that it does much good; Jared’s face is completely blank. Jensen’s heartbeat is jack-rabbit-ing in his chest, too fast to be healthy, and he doesn’t know how he got from Chris’s table to here wanting this so bad. That’s not even it, if he’s being honest, just letting himself want Jared this much.

"Can I." Jared’s mouth shuts abruptly, and then he’s tugging his hand away, tilting his head towards the storage room. "Talk to you for a second? Our usual conference room?"

Jensen’s nerves are strung so tight he can barely slide off his stool without tumbling, but Jared doesn’t wait to see him nod, doesn’t even really look back. Jensen makes himself follow with his heart in his throat, probably exactly how Jared’s been feeling this whole week.

When his back slams against the door he tells himself he deserves it, braces for a punch, and jumps hard when Jared’s mouth comes down on his instead.

It’s not a fast kiss, desperate or needy, for all that Jared’s pressed against him from his bruised kneecaps to his thudding heart. It’s slow, almost languid, almost deliberate and careful, but also warm and good and fuck, Jensen didn’t realize how much he missed just touching Jared, breathing him in. He’s too full, god, he’s going to fly apart.

"You realize this is fucked up," Jensen says the instant he pulls back, but he can’t stop touching Jared, too afraid to ease up on the grip he’s got on Jared’s sides to stroke the hair out of his eyes and trace the line of his jaw like he wants to. "Like, really fucked up. Like Julia-Roberts-convinced-Richard-Gere-to-give-up-his-millions-and-join-her-turning-tricks kind of fucked up."

Jared’s laugh is low and warm and more like a hum that vibrates through them both. "Only I don’t have any millions to give up. And you don’t have Julia Robert’s teeth."

"At least you’re not prematurely grey," Jensen admits when he can, giving Jared’s hair a tug. But then Jared turns his head and plants a quick kiss on the inside of his wrist, and the ability to speak is gone again.

"I think we’re gonna be okay," Jared whispers a little hopefully, almost like a question.

"Yeah?" Jensen kind of wants to kiss him, and it’s a little mind bending to realize he can.

"Yeah," Jared says, smiling against his mouth. "Yeah, we are."

Jared tastes like butterscotch and baileys.

END! 
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