get down, show me what you're good for
Title: The Bi-Curiosity of Jensen Ackles (1/2)
Author: veterization
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:: Don't own anything.
Genre and/or Pairing: Jensen/Jared, slight Jensen/Misha
Word Count: ~14,000
Summary: College AU. When Jared tells Jensen to pretend to be gay for the sake of grabbing the attention of Danneel Harris, Misha Collins pays interest. Much to the dismay of Jared.
Notes: For those who find the quip about Misha's Twitter, props for you.
She's hot, plump-lipped, red-haired down to her waist, and totally out of Jensen's league.
At first glance, Jensen believes she's most possibly the most sumptuous woman in the room, if not the universe, that including the nameless girl who attempted to sell him facial cream at the mall with big eyes framed with ebony lashes and a chest that was threatening to bust out of her dress that almost convinced Jensen to buy the damn product. The girl here, however, albeit also nameless, isn't selling any facial cream. As a matter of fact, she isn't talking to Jensen at all.
From across the room, Jensen can make out soft curves, long legs, and a bright, chirpy laugh, feminine and sweet like apple pie.
Jensen swallows on a dry tongue.
If there's anything a year and a half at college has taught him, it's that he's not as good as picking up women as he thought.
He still doesn't know what happened in between high school and college that suddenly made him so undesirable. He's come up with the theory that even though college girls are pegged as the wild, adventurous ones who drink tequila in the morning and party without panties, they're all going through complexes and insightful processes of finding themselves, while in high school desperation and hormones overpowers any sense of personality let alone logic.
It's a dry theory, not very optimistic, but Jensen likes to believe that theories are fabricated so they can be proven wrong. He's seen himself in the mirror, and even though he went through a brief yet troublesome acne phase in fifth grade and never really grew with the proper proportions adjusting his limbs to the rest of his body until junior high, by now he's developed not all too badly. He's got a nice smile and hair, albeit easily maintained, never sticks in horribly cumbersome directions.
He likes to reason that perhaps, it's his good looks that intimidate girls. If he's reasonably attractive, chances are he's got charisma. If he's got charisma, he's got wit. If he's witty, he's clever. If he's clever, he's astute beyond his years. If he's intelligent, he has the ability to produce money. In one way, it seems like a foolproof advertisement to reel in ladies, but instead, it might deter them, lower their self-esteem, persuade them that they need men more on their own level, like those who suffer from premature balding and always leave an uncultivated patch of uneven grass when they mow the lawn because they're just that type of sloppy.
So, if he's assuming that the glass is full concerning the situation that Jensen hasn't gotten laid since that one night he got intoxicated during the freshman Christmas party and had a quick fumble in a pantry, it's ultimately his perfection that's deterring the feminine half of the population.
Unfortunately, Jensen's ego isn't exactly brimming with enough narcissism to believe that quite yet.
"Hey."
He's made his way over to the girl with fortitude in his steps he doesn't possess, and before he can even consider skirting past her or gracefully backing up or even turning the whole walk into a sensual dance, he's already made his presence known.
She looks at him. She's a good few inches shorter than him, and Jensen smiles, the sort of smile that makes his lips curve up more at the left than at the right. Jared told him once it was sexy, so he goes with that.
"Hi."
"I'm Jensen." He keeps his smile in place as though it's default, like he's more of a wax statue with a smirk than anything else. She looks at him like he's slow, as though he's expecting her to reply with her own name. Jensen doesn't let his smile falter.
"Okay," she says, and Jensen has to admit, even though there's the undeniable hint of condescension scraping at her voice, it's pretty, "...Danneel."
She grits out her name as though she doesn't like saying it, like it's an STD on a poster in a health classroom during high school.
"So listen, I was thinking-"
Danneel plants the pad of her index finger directly on Jensen's lips. He inhales. She has the expression of a grandmother humoring her grandson by listening to imaginative stories about magical unicorns and teleporting to Asia. Jensen doesn't think that's an entirely good sign.
"I'm sure you were," she agrees, "but I have someone I need to talk to."
She slides past him before Jensen can get out another word, the softness of her skin on his mouth gone and replaced with the cold breeze of her hurrying to the other end of the room to refill her red cup even though last Jensen saw, it was already brimming with a pink cocktail.
He exhales again as someone bumps blatantly into his shoulder, and right when he's about to tell a guy to be a little more careful and a little less drunk when he walks, he's met with Jared's beaming face.
"Are you druuuuuunk?"
The dopey smile painting Jared's features implies that rather, he is, and wants Jensen to agree so he doesn't feel quite so lonesome in his romantic affair with apple martinis. Jensen's got a beer curled in his hand and doesn't feel quite as much alcohol-caused numbing in his mind as he would prefer.
"Unfortunately, still sober," Jensen says, and sips sourly at his beer, "where have you been?"
"Looking for you, actually."
"Oh," Jensen says, and Jared knocks his shoulder against Jensen's again. It's a gesture that Jared does too much because he's an undeniably touchy friend, but he's inebriated so it comes out a little rough and Jensen almost lands straight into Mark Pellegrino's unsuspecting lap, who looks far from pleased.
"What've you been doing?"
Jensen shrugs and cocks his cup in the direction of Danneel, now a fair distance away and crowded with a throng of drunkenly dancing college students. The music's a little loud and Jensen's dick could really use an intoxicated girl's attention after months of nothing but his own hand, but he still isn't all too keen on leaving the party and heading for his dorm room yet after a single rejection.
"Do you know her?" Jensen asks.
"Oh, yeah. She's always with Misha."
The name doesn't have any familiarity to Jensen, but Jared's face is suddenly looking a little pleased and coquettish at the mention of the man's name, so Jensen figures he can't be too bald, old, or ugly. And sure enough, when he glances over at Danneel again, a dark-haired man is plastered up against her side in the crowd.
"Are they dating?" Jensen asks.
"According to the last time I saw him with a hand down a girl's skirt, I'd say no." Jared snorts, but it's through a mouthful of martini and comes out more as a stifled snerk.
"So he's gay?"
"Fortunately." Jared supplies after he's swallowed.
"Is she?"
"I haven't seen her hand down any skirts either, Jen."
Jensen taps his thumb against his cup. Jared follows his gaze to where Danneel's laughing at something Misha's said, and he nudges him with an elbow. By the time Jensen looks over at him, he's sporting a hideously elated grin, misguiding in the way it looks promising but is really just stupid, because drunk Jared is not smart Jared.
"You could pretend you're gay enough to bring Freddie Mercury back from the grave."
Jensen blinks. And blinks again. Jared's grin doesn't waver. It reaffirms his fact that Jared does not make for a superb therapist when under the influence of one too many fruity drinks with umbrellas.
"I'm sure that's the answer to one of my problems," Jensen dismisses, "how does it relate to Danneel?"
Jared snorts again, as if Jensen's severely slow on the uptake, and this time a hint of green juice goes spurting from his lips like a sporadic fountain. Jensen promptly steps out of the target line.
"Dude, chicks dig homos. Why do you think girls keep trying to shove me into storage closets and do things they wouldn't dream of telling their momma during Sunday brunch?"
Up until now, Jensen has been unaware of this fact. He would assume that Jared's fibbing or decided to be uncharacteristically arrogant about his sexual appeal, but when he thinks about it, Jared's notorious for going missing during fifteen-minute intervals at parties and returning looking rumpled and a little exasperated. Jensen's lips curve into a frown.
"But you like men. Women aren't supposed to like men who like men. Is that some sort of forbidden fruit self-sabotage thing that women do to experience anguish?"
Jared shrugs, as if even though he's full of timeless wisdom, the complexity of the female species isn't a topic ready to be delved into on a drunk day. Or, as a matter fact, on a sober day either.
"They want to see if they can convert me. To be fair, girls grabbing your sausages while a broom watches is a good way to see if you really are gay."
Jensen nods, slowly, "You're saying that if I tell Danneel I'm gay she'll find me more appealing because she wants to turn me straight?"
"Girls like challenges. It's what causes drama and Facebook fights. Of course." A little dose of green goes sloshing out of Jared's cups and splashes unceremoniously into the faded carpet. The stain goes unnoticed to Jared as he continues to elaborate on his plan with enthused swings of his arm.
Jensen doesn't like agreeing with a Jared so pumped up on liquid courage. The last time he listened to one of Jared's therapy sessions while he was keeping some hardcore vodka under control, they both ended up naked in the nearby neighborhood dog park attempting to catch nighttime butterflies with Tupperware containers after completing half a dozen failed prank calls from Jensen's cell phone. It wasn't one of those things where he woke up with a tattoo on his forehead or shaved off all of his hair, but he still isn't going to downright call the incident the most intelligent portion of his twenty-something years of life so far either.
"You're making sense," Jensen agrees, nodding, "I'm not sure if you'll make this much sense by morning."
"Mockery will get you nowhere, Ackles," Jared mindlessly pushes Jensen in the direction of Danneel, even though there's a thick crowd with drinks and alcohol clouding their senses in the way, and Jensen promptly proceeds to bump into a poorly dancing Mike Rosenbaum. A few curse words hit the air but Jared is still all grins and thumbs up, unaware of the ruckus he caused as Jensen squeezes his way in between grinding couples and boisterous laughter.
He gets to Danneel before he can think up of a greeting interesting enough to result in conversation, let alone a bad pick-up line he read on the Internet. He opens his mouth, and he closes it. Tom Welling's elbow knocks into the small of his back and almost sends him topping onto Danneel's shoulder.
"Er. Can I get you a drink?"
Danneel turns around, but this time, her male lackey Misha also faces him. He manages another small smile, but the confidence from the last time he attempted to strike up conversation with her is lacking.
"I think I'm capable, thanks." The gratitude in her thanks doesn't exude the aura of much gratitude at all. Jensen wonders if there's something drawn on his face that he's missed all evening of if he's mismatched his buttons.
"No, of course! Just wondering if you wanted some help."
When Danneel's sneer turns from catching a glimpse of an expired milk carton to catching a glimpse of a circumcision, Jensen's starting to believe he won't even get out the words I'm gay before he loses the interest of this girl. If he looks at it fairly, the prettier the girl, the harder to impress, but from the looks of Danneel's even teeth and silky hair, Jensen will be here all night.
A hand, warm and strong and familiar in touch, plants itself on the small of Jensen's back before winding around his waist and resting loosely against his hip. He jumps at the unexpected contact, fully expecting to see Christian Kane or another man who has a habit of getting handsy when tipsy leaning against his side, but instead is met with Jared's lazy smile directed at both Misha and Danneel.
"Baby, you got me that martini yet?"
"Um."
Danneel's expression softens a little as it lands on Jared.
"He's - oh." Her lips curve in the perfect shape of an o and Jensen tries to smile even though he's visibly tense under Jared's grasp and isn't all too comfortable with his spontaneous coming out. Randomly proclaiming his false homosexuality suddenly doesn't seem like such a smart idea as it did five minutes ago.
"Gay?" Jared supplies, "You couldn't guess?"
"No, not at all."
Jensen suddenly morphs out of his costume of pimpled potato into chocolate-covered strawberry. Danneel steals a look at him again. Jensen assumes that claiming a college student is gay is just another way of effectively removing his dick. Danneel isn't staring at him now to judge how good he is in bed or how well his lips perform during osculation, but rather how superb his fashion sense is or how many hairstyles he knows how to work. Jensen swallows, and waits for Jared's scheme to kick in like planned like it tends to do at the climax in movies so he can be hauled off to a storage closet by those manicured nails already.
"Really?"
This time it's not Danneel that speaks up, but rather Misha. Jensen looks at him, actually looks at him, and is met with a striking pair of blue eyes that could rival the midday sky. He's got tousled hair, thick lips, and afternoon stubble, so handsome Jensen can hardly believe he's gay. Then again, he doubts that all homosexuals are only so after they give up on the females of the world.
Jared pets Jensen's hip, "He's... fresh out of the closet. Was finding shoes from the eighties in there for a while."
Misha laughs, and Danneel even joins in. Jensen automatically decides he likes the sound, and his grin grows.
"Wouldn't have pegged you as the type."
"From the things he's done to me-"
Intent on not rousing the beast that is Jared when he's both drunk and chatty and not the best of liars, he worms his way out from underneath his friend's arm and manages another quick smile.
"We're not together."
"Used to be." Jared cuts in.
"Not anymore."
"He's still gay, though."
"...interesting." Misha says, and his eyes rake over Jensen. He's got his good jeans on and despite earlier belief, his shirt's buttons are meticulously in order. He hadn't assumed when he had slipped into his clothing this morning that guys would be the party he'd be impressing with his outfit. Then again, he'd just come out to a stunning redhead and her gay companion, another task he hadn't assumed he would complete a few hours ago.
"You know," Danneel prompts, and she sets her cup down on the table, "Misha's single."
Misha swats her discreetly in the arm. Danneel grins. There's a proposal in her voice, but it's coming indirectly from Misha instead of her. Jensen isn't quite sure what to think, but his own grin doesn't waver.
"Really?" Jared pushes.
"Oh, yes. He's really been missing someone to do yoga with."
Jensen glances at Jared from the corner of his vision in the vain hope that after their years of close-knit teamwork and comradeship that Jared will get the hint and wordlessly inform Jensen of the next step in their so far shaky scheme, but the taller boy looks like he's much more engrossed in the idea of joining Misha in a downward dog pose and then blowing him on a yoga mat than aiding Jensen in his quest to bang Danneel Harris.
Jensen does what he does best, and keeps grinning. Danneel takes it as encouragement and grabs Jared's wrist in her tiny fingers.
"C'mon, I say we let these two talk."
If Jensen had suspicions about her intentions, they became clear the second he realizes that Jared is being hauled off by an either surprisingly strong Danneel or a very loose-limbed and sloshed Jared. And with the pair of them flouncing away from the drinks table, his heterosexuality flounced away from his grasp as well.
"So," Misha says, and Jensen had almost forgotten about his presence, "freshly gay? How's the other side of the fence?"
"...different." It's a conveniently vague word. Misha doesn't seem deterred by the ambiguity.
"I bet. Hey, at least it's not high school. That place is for beating up anybody who's not like anybody else."
Jensen smiles and nods stiffly, as though he's talking to his grandmother about her choices for the dinner china. He assumes that Misha's either naturally oblivious or too drunk to sense his discomfort when he still doesn't question it.
"If you wanted," Misha murmurs, and takes a step closer. Jensen breathes in a whiff of aftershave and what smells like the aftermath of a few tequila shots. "I could help you get used to the whole dick that isn't my own thing. Talk over coffee, maybe catch a movie."
Jensen doesn't know exactly what to say. He wants to blurt out that he's straight, straighter than a flagpole, that he's more interested in the woman that was hanging on his arm prior a few seconds ago, that coffee and a movie would make him very, very uncomfortable. He's got a whole speech explaining his heterosexuality tingling on the edge of his tongue, but he feels Jared and Danneel's eyes boring into the back of his head from behind him and he manages another easy grin.
"That sounds nice."
---
"So tell me again when during this plan I land Danneel and tell her the only dick I want to be getting used to is already in my pants."
Jared tuts, as if Jensen's lack of faith in his plan is far from understandable. He knocks Jensen's knees apart and sits between them, easing a tie around his neck.
"You're nervous."
"I'm going out with a guy. I'm straight." When Jared still fails to conjure up a response, Jensen adds on as a desperate afterthought, "Please tell me you see the clash of interests here."
"Do you expect you and Misha to have lots of buttsex in the middle of a gay pride parade here? You'll have coffee. He'll touch your knee. You'll kiss his cheek, go home. Misha tells Danneel how sweet you are, how well it went, and once again, the plan plays itself out perfectly."
"It worries me how much trust you have in this working."
"You're very pessimistic," Jared observes dryly and works a knot into the tie, smoothing down Jensen's collar, "now that you're gay, you've got to have a lot more spunk and a lot less frown."
"To be gay I have to be happy?"
"They're sort of synonyms." Jared says, with an aura of education dangling on his words as though he's spent hours pouring over the dictionary to be able to present Jensen with this information.
Jensen brushes Jared's hands dismissively off of his neck once he finishes knotting his tie, walking over to the mirror to fix any crooked buttons.
"What do I do if he kisses me?" Jensen mumbles over his shoulder, and his reflection seems to overhear. There's a good dosage of mockery radiating out of the mirror, and Jensen wants to wipe away his own image for the time being.
"You kiss back."
"I thought I wasn't going to have any gay buttsex here."
"Kissing doesn't always lead to whoring around, dude," Jared says, and looks at Jensen as though he wants to add a small little slut to the end of his sentence, but refrains because he's still too amused by the situation to be indignant about Jensen's assumptions about kissing.
"Well, I mean, is it different from kissing a girl?" Jensen inquires.
There's a long pause of what is presumably Jared creating a mental Venn diagram, and then proceeds to shrug noncommittally and step forward to fix Jensen's tie. He smooths down a few of the stray wrinkles on his stomach.
"Considering the last time you kissed a girl, you won't have anything to remember to compare it to."
"That's real nice, Jay."
"You're gay now, Jensen. I don't have to talk about your heterosexual experiences fondly anymore." Jared says, and his grin is shit-eating.
Jensen swats Jared's hands away from his tie as he loosens it, but the guy has more arms on an arm instead of a hand, and Jared's broad palm wins over as he keeps making adjustments to the way Jensen's clothing hangs on him.
"Maybe you should go on the date with Misha and I'll just go back into the closet earlier than expected." Jensen supplies, a little helplessly, as he spies his reflection in the mirror again. His shirt is snug and his pants hug his hips. It's a lot tight and a lot awkward and Jensen's pretty sure he can see his nipples through the flimsy fabric, which is not exactly a part of his body he's keen on putting on display in front of Misha or anyone else right now.
"I totally would."
"You like Misha?" Jensen asks.
"Misha's hot. Misha's always been hot. I've just never talked to him that much before." Jared shrugs again.
"I'll... mention you at dinner? Maybe you two can hook up once I'm with Danneel?"
Jared stares at him, long and hard, and after the allotted time of staring at someone that's allowed passes, Jensen starts to feel like perhaps he's missing something or forgot to hear a part of Jared's sentence. Internal or verbal.
"Just - don't do anything too slutty at the movies." Jared advises, and curls his lips into a thin, white line.
"Like give my first blow-job?" Jensen supplies.
"Sounds about right, actually."
"I'll let him save that for you. Don't worry 'bout it."
Jared stares at him again. Jensen blames the height difference, but he's feeling a little small and intimidated at the way Jared's staring him down, like he holds all the answers to the questions he doesn't want to hear responses to. Jared blinks at him. Jensen thinks there's a meaning behind it, or rather, what he's hoping for, that Jared just needed to blink.
"Look, just. Follow the plan." Jared orders, even though it's conveniently vague and Jensen isn't entirely sure that there are specific bullet points to follow in the scheme, but before he can question it, he's being pushed out of his dorm room by an impatient Jared.
Jensen is not excited about being gay.
---
The very first thing Jensen sees of Misha Collins is his underwear.
Jensen wasn't worrying too much about his appearance until he got to Misha's dorm, where the whiteboard hung up outside of it informed him that not only did Misha have a roommate, but said roommate happened to be Danneel. It turned into a frenzy of smoothing down all of the wrinkles Jared had forgotten and hoping his pants weren't slung too low on his hips, before ultimately, he knocked on the door. A stifled come in! wafted through the wall, and Jensen took the invitation.
Now, Jensen's wavering in the doorway of a tiny, cramped dorm room that looks like a rainbow parade exploded inside of it.
There's a collage of artsy frames hung up on the wall with Danneel and Misha with their arms looped around each other and grins plastered on their lips, posters of half-naked men like any dorm room has at least one of (except in this one, Jensen can't tell which inhabitant they belong to), and what smells suspiciously like an array of scented candles that give off the odor of fresh peaches in waves.
Lastly, there's also a man on the floor bent over a yoga mat in such a manner that his pants are slipping off of his hips and revealing a thin sliver of bright red briefs.
Jensen feels, to put it mildly, out of place.
"Hey." Misha says, suddenly out of his pretzel twist of a yoga pose and sending a wide smile in Jensen's direction. "You look awesome! Let me just get changed."
Misha traipses off in the direction of the bedroom. In the corner of his peripherals, Jensen spies Danneel watching innocently in the arm chair. He turns around, offering her a wave.
"Hi," Danneel says, and with one look at the revealing shirt she's wearing, Jensen can't help but believe he'll never stand as a homosexual permanently, "Are you nervous?"
"Just... a little." Jensen doesn't know what to say about his homosexual date. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say about his homosexual date. He's really still trying to wrap his mind around the homosexual part.
Oh, the things he does for beautiful women.
"Is he the first guy you're going out with, besides Jared? Since you're all fresh out of the closet?"
Jensen nods dumbly. Danneel smiles.
"He's a gentle guy. Just relax, he'll take care of you."
Jensen wants to ask what exactly Misha will be taking care of, but before he can start babbling about how he's a germaphobe or not into physical contact or much too straight for this whole ordeal, Misha's already coming back out of the door in a button-down and jeans, yoga pants stowed away.
"So now that we both look great," Misha prompts, "ready to leave?"
Really, he isn't. He'd much rather stay here with Danneel and keep talking about something that doesn't pertain to the subject of how much he's glad he's not being hugged into a closet anymore. Still, Misha doesn't seem to think that's an option, and before he can protest, he's waving a hasty goodbye to Danneel and his hand is twined tightly with Misha's.
---
As it turns out, Misha's actually an interesting person. If he tried, Jensen could probably write an entire book dedicated to Misha and his encounters with life. Some of them are bizarre enough to almost seem feigned, but Misha tells every one of his stories with such vigor that Jensen can't help but believe him.
They eat through dinner where Jensen promptly learns that Misha is one of those organic tea sort of individuals, the type he might find in a health food store trying to offer him basil to expand the duration of his life. He's strange, but he's interesting.
Jared was right. The whole thing almost feels like he's having dinner with a friend, except for the part where Misha's fingers eventually crawl up onto his knee and stay there throughout dessert. Still, it's not too bad. Jensen hasn't made any offensive homosexual quips yet that he tends to do around Jared all the time as a friendly tease, and he has yet to grow a little too wide-eyed at any suggestive contact from Misha and blow the entire game.
They talk about Misha's dreams to be an architect, a carpenter, an actor, a baker, a candlestick maker, and just about everything else a student could or could not major in at college, and occasionally Misha tries to worm a few words out of Jensen, like how his coming out was, or how he discovered he was gay. Jensen always hurries back to topics like candlestick making.
Before he knows it, the bill is paid and his fingers are threaded with Misha's again sandwiched in between the stocked shelves of a video rental store. Misha's in the middle of advertising off Moulin Rouge and mindless comedies when Jensen's phone goes off and Jared's name appears on the screen.
Jensen edges away from Misha as politely as possible after excusing himself and rounding a few shelves, answering the shrill ringing.
"Jared?"
"Jensen," there's a complete lack of amusement in Jared's tone that Jensen isn't very used to hearing, "it's past nine. Where are you. Come home."
There are no questions in Jared's monotone commands. Jensen's reminded of his youth, where he used to sneak out with Jared or a girl he'd met in his language class at school after hours and his mother would call him a minute past curfew to give him a good scolding and command him to come home instantly.
"We're just getting a movie, Jared."
"A movie? A movie? Are you kidding me, Jensen?" Jared makes it sound like Jensen and Misha are diabolically planning the end of all rainbows in a cave in India, and Jensen isn't quite sure what to say in response.
"...no."
"I can't believe this."
"It's... a comedy?" Jensen offers.
"Oh god," Jared says, "that's even worse."
"You don't want me educating myself in humorous film?"
"Jensen," Jared says, and it's an admonishment, like Jensen sneaked into the cookie jar before dinner, "A video is something you watch after dinner at home so you can make out and have sex through the whole thing so you're asleep in each other's arms by the credits."
Jensen's gaze discreetly wafts over to Misha, who, sure enough, is browsing the movies that Jensen fell asleep in at the movie theater. Images of Misha's fist in his pants and impromptu buttsex flit through Jensen's mind, and he hushes into the phone, "What do I do?"
"Come the hell home."
"I can't just leave."
"What?! So now you're all bi-curious all of a sudden?"
"Danneel's gonna be waiting at his place!" Jensen reasons, and ducks under the horror movies to continue on his urgent whispering into the receiver.
"Oh, come on!" Jared cries.
"If she's not there, I'll say I'm not feeling well." Jensen reasons, and when he spies Misha's tuft of dark brown hair wandering over the shelves over to where Jensen's kneeling by a copy of My Bloody Valentine, he snaps his phone shut before Jared can ramble out more homosexual words of wisdom, or rather, demands.
"You seen this one?" Misha jiggles a copy of a DVD so boring, the cover is practically blank. Jensen pins his bottom lip between his teeth and manages a short shake of his head.
---
What Jensen really loathes to admit more than once every night is when Jared is repeatedly right.
The lights are dimmed to accommodate the television glare and the space between Misha and Jensen on the couch is slowly dwindling from two whole cushions, to one, to half of one.
Jensen's been keeping his eyes trained intently on the television all night long, almost as if he's watching a thoroughly engaging porn video instead of something that vaguely resembles a historic documentary on the science channel. If his peripherals aren't lying, Misha is quite the contrary, and hasn't stolen a single glance at the TV all night.
He would give the guy props for trying, except that his heart rate is pounding at an alarmingly swift pace the closer Misha and his genitals get to his body. He isn't even quite sure how to approach the situation, like a seventh grader trying to waltz at his first dance or a teenager exchanging his first clumsy date with his girlfriend.
Misha's hand on his neck happens before he can see it inching toward the back of the couch. Misha's got a large thumb, brushing over the bristly strands of hair gathering at the nape of his neck in soothing circles. It would almost be nice, if the palpitations of Jensen's heart aren't beating harder than a trailer park husband.
"Movie's great, right?" Jensen tries to strike up, but to his horror, Misha only snickers lowly in response and moves closer.
"Haven't been watching."
And then there's lips on his neck, kissing and suckling, and there's no trace of lip gloss or any other make-up residue anywhere as a souvenir. Just deep, dark, demanding hickeys delivered by no other than Misha Collins, who just so happens to be a man.
Misha's hand worms it way onto Jensen's thigh, and when Jensen still doesn't protest or push Misha back in an obvious rejection, Misha replaces his palm with himself and promptly straddles Jensen's lap.
It's strange and oddly heavy to have a man sitting on his legs instead of a petite waist and tiny legs and a plump chest in his face. Misha's lips are still on his neck, leaving marks that Jensen's going to need a turtleneck to cover up properly, and the slight scrape of stubble against his collarbone reminds Jensen exactly who this is, what this is, and that by no means, is this Danneel.
"Misha-"
"Shhh."
"But-" Jensen squirms a little, and Misha wriggles his hips. There's something, long and hard and insistent, pressing up straight into his thigh, and Jensen almost scrambles off of the couch. He's had his few embarrassing boner incidents in his lifetime, like once when Jared tackled him in his backyard and his dick took a sudden interest, but by this point, he doubts he can call this incidental.
"Hush." Misha says when Jensen opens his mouth to speak. He's got teeth he likes to use, biting at the sensitive spot right under Jensen's ear, making him jump.
"Danneel-"
"Don't worry, I told her to stay out tonight." Misha reassures, voice muffled in Jensen's damp neck.
Jensen whimpers. Misha's not a bad looking guy, and to be fair, he knows exactly what to do and how to do it with his lips and body alike, but all he really wants right now to call Jared. Whether it to be to beg for him to pick him up instantly or offer him advice.
Then again, he's not sure what advice he's looking for. What to do when an attractive gay men licks your neck, or what to do to get a gay man off of your neck?
When a dose of logic kicks in, he's reminded that calling Jared really isn't a smart idea at all. Jared's been fully-fledged gay since he came traipsing out of the closet at prom a few years ago, and Jensen chasing after men and stealing the ones Jared admires right out from under his nose when he's denied any existence of his homosexuality is against any existing bro code.
"Misha, c-can we, er." Jensen pushes, ineffectually, but Misha's head still comes up for air from Jensen's neck. His lips are red and swollen from their work, and Jensen doesn't even want to check how many hickeys he's acquired by now. He's pretty sure that by this point he could play connect the dots with them.
"You're nervous, aren't you?
Jensen thinks of all of the things he is. Gay doesn't fall into that category. Nervous certainly does.
"Yeah."
"Don't be. I'm here with you." Misha murmurs, a soft, low grumble facsimile of his usual voice. And then, without any warning, Misha's palm goes to rub through Jensen's jeans.
Jensen inhales. His palm's larger than a girl's so it covers much more area on his groin, and Jensen feels a little shamefaced to admit that yes, it's nice.
When he gets home, he's going to be murdered. Slowly. Jared bought a whole set of Wolfgang Puck kitchen knives last weekend after swearing to start putting them to good use and make lots and lots of salad, but by now Jensen's starting to think they'll have other uses that won't include chopping up onions and tomatoes.
But when Misha's fingers deftly undo the button of his pants and slip in to grab his hardening erection and Jensen's throat decides to let loose a guttural moan without asking for permission, he figures he'll worry about that later.
---
After speeding down the highway at a speed that would've resulted in a intense car chase had the cops witnessed it, Jensen's inching into the dorm parking lot with his car at an ominously slow pace.
Knowing Jared, the guy's probably awake. He's probably diving into a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and watching Logo as the minutes tick by. Jensen doesn't have to be officially gay to know that heterosexuals and homosexuals alike have the same rule: coming home after midnight means someone got laid.
His legs are tingling as he walks up the stairs to Jared and his room like they might after a hot bath, except that this time the subsiding tremors are the aftermaths of the dull satisfaction that comes with getting off.
Now that his mind isn't fogging over quite as much as it was in the dim light and amongst the cushions of Misha's couch with his hand pumping his dick, Jensen vaguely recalls it being short and a little messy. He blames his poor stamina on the fact that it's really been a while since the last time he had proper sex with someone else's nether regions, but other than that, it had been good.
When he thinks about it, that really isn't a very convincing argument to give to Jared when he explains what happened. He would almost prefer it if he could deny any pleasure he had out of tonight.
"A hand is a hand," Jensen's murmuring to himself, rehearsing potential excuses as he pops his collar to ridiculous heights just to give him a semblance of dignity and conceal the noticeable spots on his neck, "I even told him about the impressive size of your stamp collection at dinner."
His excuses are lackluster at best. Jensen lets out an exhale he hasn't realized he's been holding in and slips into his dorm room.
"Jared?"
Jared's sitting atop the kitchen counter with an instant cup of ramen furled into his hands. Jensen detests those things, even if it's symbolism college food, and Jared does too. They used to buy them just to eat out the pieces of corn together and make mustaches with the curled noodles.
"Someone's looking a little gay." Jared says.
"You're still up."
"I was about to say the same thing about your dick." Jared pours the remainders of his cup into the sink nearby, noodles swimming down the drain. Jensen leans against the fridge. A magnet digs insistently into the flesh of his shoulder.
"I know you like him," Jensen says slowly, as though he's picking his words like the whole conversation is an intense game of Scrabble and he only has so many letters, "I wouldn't have done it if I knew Danneel wasn't going to come home."
"She never did?"
"No."
"And you had sex with Misha anyway?"
Jared's naturally got warm eyes. Never in the years that Jensen has known him has he ever been able to pinpoint them to a certain color or shade, just warmth. Specks of everything in the color wheel seemed to gather into a smorgasbord of greens and chocolates in Jared's iris. But right now, eclipsed in the shadows of the nighttime and with the weight of the situation, they seem much too distant for Jensen's liking.
"No item A went into any slot B, all right?" Jensen clarifies, and rakes his fingers through his hair, "it was more... dry humping than anything else."
"So something in the sexual form of thrusting."
"Jared, I'm not gonna be gay forever," Jensen reasons and fiddles with the magnet his shoulder dug into on the fridge. It's small and round and his thumb slides it around easily so he has something else to focus on other than Jared's face and his lack of a smile, a rarity on the guy's features. "This was your plan."
"I know, it's just-" Jared bites his lip. If there's anyone who makes their thinking hideously obvious, it's Jared. It's incredibly effortless to see the battle practically working itself out, or on some occasions, causing more causalities, inside Jared's pupils. "Jen, I think you're a smart guy. But sometimes you're really, really stupid."
Jensen's brow knits together and he's about to retaliate with something equally hurtful when Jared hops off of the counter, steps out of the shadows, and a gleam of light catches the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes.
It's a little sad and a lot Lifetime and Jensen isn't sure what to say when Jared fixes him with one hard stare that he's sure is secretly harboring a reprimand along with a few other choice words and hidden meanings, and then he promptly stalks past him into his bedroom.
If the door had slammed a few times or Jared had knocked deliberately into his shoulder, it would have been unnecessarily dramatic, the sort of thing Jensen could start a histrionic Facebook status about. Thanks to Jensen, the door only slams once.
( Part Two )
Author: veterization
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:: Don't own anything.
Genre and/or Pairing: Jensen/Jared, slight Jensen/Misha
Word Count: ~14,000
Summary: College AU. When Jared tells Jensen to pretend to be gay for the sake of grabbing the attention of Danneel Harris, Misha Collins pays interest. Much to the dismay of Jared.
Notes: For those who find the quip about Misha's Twitter, props for you.
She's hot, plump-lipped, red-haired down to her waist, and totally out of Jensen's league.
At first glance, Jensen believes she's most possibly the most sumptuous woman in the room, if not the universe, that including the nameless girl who attempted to sell him facial cream at the mall with big eyes framed with ebony lashes and a chest that was threatening to bust out of her dress that almost convinced Jensen to buy the damn product. The girl here, however, albeit also nameless, isn't selling any facial cream. As a matter of fact, she isn't talking to Jensen at all.
From across the room, Jensen can make out soft curves, long legs, and a bright, chirpy laugh, feminine and sweet like apple pie.
Jensen swallows on a dry tongue.
If there's anything a year and a half at college has taught him, it's that he's not as good as picking up women as he thought.
He still doesn't know what happened in between high school and college that suddenly made him so undesirable. He's come up with the theory that even though college girls are pegged as the wild, adventurous ones who drink tequila in the morning and party without panties, they're all going through complexes and insightful processes of finding themselves, while in high school desperation and hormones overpowers any sense of personality let alone logic.
It's a dry theory, not very optimistic, but Jensen likes to believe that theories are fabricated so they can be proven wrong. He's seen himself in the mirror, and even though he went through a brief yet troublesome acne phase in fifth grade and never really grew with the proper proportions adjusting his limbs to the rest of his body until junior high, by now he's developed not all too badly. He's got a nice smile and hair, albeit easily maintained, never sticks in horribly cumbersome directions.
He likes to reason that perhaps, it's his good looks that intimidate girls. If he's reasonably attractive, chances are he's got charisma. If he's got charisma, he's got wit. If he's witty, he's clever. If he's clever, he's astute beyond his years. If he's intelligent, he has the ability to produce money. In one way, it seems like a foolproof advertisement to reel in ladies, but instead, it might deter them, lower their self-esteem, persuade them that they need men more on their own level, like those who suffer from premature balding and always leave an uncultivated patch of uneven grass when they mow the lawn because they're just that type of sloppy.
So, if he's assuming that the glass is full concerning the situation that Jensen hasn't gotten laid since that one night he got intoxicated during the freshman Christmas party and had a quick fumble in a pantry, it's ultimately his perfection that's deterring the feminine half of the population.
Unfortunately, Jensen's ego isn't exactly brimming with enough narcissism to believe that quite yet.
"Hey."
He's made his way over to the girl with fortitude in his steps he doesn't possess, and before he can even consider skirting past her or gracefully backing up or even turning the whole walk into a sensual dance, he's already made his presence known.
She looks at him. She's a good few inches shorter than him, and Jensen smiles, the sort of smile that makes his lips curve up more at the left than at the right. Jared told him once it was sexy, so he goes with that.
"Hi."
"I'm Jensen." He keeps his smile in place as though it's default, like he's more of a wax statue with a smirk than anything else. She looks at him like he's slow, as though he's expecting her to reply with her own name. Jensen doesn't let his smile falter.
"Okay," she says, and Jensen has to admit, even though there's the undeniable hint of condescension scraping at her voice, it's pretty, "...Danneel."
She grits out her name as though she doesn't like saying it, like it's an STD on a poster in a health classroom during high school.
"So listen, I was thinking-"
Danneel plants the pad of her index finger directly on Jensen's lips. He inhales. She has the expression of a grandmother humoring her grandson by listening to imaginative stories about magical unicorns and teleporting to Asia. Jensen doesn't think that's an entirely good sign.
"I'm sure you were," she agrees, "but I have someone I need to talk to."
She slides past him before Jensen can get out another word, the softness of her skin on his mouth gone and replaced with the cold breeze of her hurrying to the other end of the room to refill her red cup even though last Jensen saw, it was already brimming with a pink cocktail.
He exhales again as someone bumps blatantly into his shoulder, and right when he's about to tell a guy to be a little more careful and a little less drunk when he walks, he's met with Jared's beaming face.
"Are you druuuuuunk?"
The dopey smile painting Jared's features implies that rather, he is, and wants Jensen to agree so he doesn't feel quite so lonesome in his romantic affair with apple martinis. Jensen's got a beer curled in his hand and doesn't feel quite as much alcohol-caused numbing in his mind as he would prefer.
"Unfortunately, still sober," Jensen says, and sips sourly at his beer, "where have you been?"
"Looking for you, actually."
"Oh," Jensen says, and Jared knocks his shoulder against Jensen's again. It's a gesture that Jared does too much because he's an undeniably touchy friend, but he's inebriated so it comes out a little rough and Jensen almost lands straight into Mark Pellegrino's unsuspecting lap, who looks far from pleased.
"What've you been doing?"
Jensen shrugs and cocks his cup in the direction of Danneel, now a fair distance away and crowded with a throng of drunkenly dancing college students. The music's a little loud and Jensen's dick could really use an intoxicated girl's attention after months of nothing but his own hand, but he still isn't all too keen on leaving the party and heading for his dorm room yet after a single rejection.
"Do you know her?" Jensen asks.
"Oh, yeah. She's always with Misha."
The name doesn't have any familiarity to Jensen, but Jared's face is suddenly looking a little pleased and coquettish at the mention of the man's name, so Jensen figures he can't be too bald, old, or ugly. And sure enough, when he glances over at Danneel again, a dark-haired man is plastered up against her side in the crowd.
"Are they dating?" Jensen asks.
"According to the last time I saw him with a hand down a girl's skirt, I'd say no." Jared snorts, but it's through a mouthful of martini and comes out more as a stifled snerk.
"So he's gay?"
"Fortunately." Jared supplies after he's swallowed.
"Is she?"
"I haven't seen her hand down any skirts either, Jen."
Jensen taps his thumb against his cup. Jared follows his gaze to where Danneel's laughing at something Misha's said, and he nudges him with an elbow. By the time Jensen looks over at him, he's sporting a hideously elated grin, misguiding in the way it looks promising but is really just stupid, because drunk Jared is not smart Jared.
"You could pretend you're gay enough to bring Freddie Mercury back from the grave."
Jensen blinks. And blinks again. Jared's grin doesn't waver. It reaffirms his fact that Jared does not make for a superb therapist when under the influence of one too many fruity drinks with umbrellas.
"I'm sure that's the answer to one of my problems," Jensen dismisses, "how does it relate to Danneel?"
Jared snorts again, as if Jensen's severely slow on the uptake, and this time a hint of green juice goes spurting from his lips like a sporadic fountain. Jensen promptly steps out of the target line.
"Dude, chicks dig homos. Why do you think girls keep trying to shove me into storage closets and do things they wouldn't dream of telling their momma during Sunday brunch?"
Up until now, Jensen has been unaware of this fact. He would assume that Jared's fibbing or decided to be uncharacteristically arrogant about his sexual appeal, but when he thinks about it, Jared's notorious for going missing during fifteen-minute intervals at parties and returning looking rumpled and a little exasperated. Jensen's lips curve into a frown.
"But you like men. Women aren't supposed to like men who like men. Is that some sort of forbidden fruit self-sabotage thing that women do to experience anguish?"
Jared shrugs, as if even though he's full of timeless wisdom, the complexity of the female species isn't a topic ready to be delved into on a drunk day. Or, as a matter fact, on a sober day either.
"They want to see if they can convert me. To be fair, girls grabbing your sausages while a broom watches is a good way to see if you really are gay."
Jensen nods, slowly, "You're saying that if I tell Danneel I'm gay she'll find me more appealing because she wants to turn me straight?"
"Girls like challenges. It's what causes drama and Facebook fights. Of course." A little dose of green goes sloshing out of Jared's cups and splashes unceremoniously into the faded carpet. The stain goes unnoticed to Jared as he continues to elaborate on his plan with enthused swings of his arm.
Jensen doesn't like agreeing with a Jared so pumped up on liquid courage. The last time he listened to one of Jared's therapy sessions while he was keeping some hardcore vodka under control, they both ended up naked in the nearby neighborhood dog park attempting to catch nighttime butterflies with Tupperware containers after completing half a dozen failed prank calls from Jensen's cell phone. It wasn't one of those things where he woke up with a tattoo on his forehead or shaved off all of his hair, but he still isn't going to downright call the incident the most intelligent portion of his twenty-something years of life so far either.
"You're making sense," Jensen agrees, nodding, "I'm not sure if you'll make this much sense by morning."
"Mockery will get you nowhere, Ackles," Jared mindlessly pushes Jensen in the direction of Danneel, even though there's a thick crowd with drinks and alcohol clouding their senses in the way, and Jensen promptly proceeds to bump into a poorly dancing Mike Rosenbaum. A few curse words hit the air but Jared is still all grins and thumbs up, unaware of the ruckus he caused as Jensen squeezes his way in between grinding couples and boisterous laughter.
He gets to Danneel before he can think up of a greeting interesting enough to result in conversation, let alone a bad pick-up line he read on the Internet. He opens his mouth, and he closes it. Tom Welling's elbow knocks into the small of his back and almost sends him topping onto Danneel's shoulder.
"Er. Can I get you a drink?"
Danneel turns around, but this time, her male lackey Misha also faces him. He manages another small smile, but the confidence from the last time he attempted to strike up conversation with her is lacking.
"I think I'm capable, thanks." The gratitude in her thanks doesn't exude the aura of much gratitude at all. Jensen wonders if there's something drawn on his face that he's missed all evening of if he's mismatched his buttons.
"No, of course! Just wondering if you wanted some help."
When Danneel's sneer turns from catching a glimpse of an expired milk carton to catching a glimpse of a circumcision, Jensen's starting to believe he won't even get out the words I'm gay before he loses the interest of this girl. If he looks at it fairly, the prettier the girl, the harder to impress, but from the looks of Danneel's even teeth and silky hair, Jensen will be here all night.
A hand, warm and strong and familiar in touch, plants itself on the small of Jensen's back before winding around his waist and resting loosely against his hip. He jumps at the unexpected contact, fully expecting to see Christian Kane or another man who has a habit of getting handsy when tipsy leaning against his side, but instead is met with Jared's lazy smile directed at both Misha and Danneel.
"Baby, you got me that martini yet?"
"Um."
Danneel's expression softens a little as it lands on Jared.
"He's - oh." Her lips curve in the perfect shape of an o and Jensen tries to smile even though he's visibly tense under Jared's grasp and isn't all too comfortable with his spontaneous coming out. Randomly proclaiming his false homosexuality suddenly doesn't seem like such a smart idea as it did five minutes ago.
"Gay?" Jared supplies, "You couldn't guess?"
"No, not at all."
Jensen suddenly morphs out of his costume of pimpled potato into chocolate-covered strawberry. Danneel steals a look at him again. Jensen assumes that claiming a college student is gay is just another way of effectively removing his dick. Danneel isn't staring at him now to judge how good he is in bed or how well his lips perform during osculation, but rather how superb his fashion sense is or how many hairstyles he knows how to work. Jensen swallows, and waits for Jared's scheme to kick in like planned like it tends to do at the climax in movies so he can be hauled off to a storage closet by those manicured nails already.
"Really?"
This time it's not Danneel that speaks up, but rather Misha. Jensen looks at him, actually looks at him, and is met with a striking pair of blue eyes that could rival the midday sky. He's got tousled hair, thick lips, and afternoon stubble, so handsome Jensen can hardly believe he's gay. Then again, he doubts that all homosexuals are only so after they give up on the females of the world.
Jared pets Jensen's hip, "He's... fresh out of the closet. Was finding shoes from the eighties in there for a while."
Misha laughs, and Danneel even joins in. Jensen automatically decides he likes the sound, and his grin grows.
"Wouldn't have pegged you as the type."
"From the things he's done to me-"
Intent on not rousing the beast that is Jared when he's both drunk and chatty and not the best of liars, he worms his way out from underneath his friend's arm and manages another quick smile.
"We're not together."
"Used to be." Jared cuts in.
"Not anymore."
"He's still gay, though."
"...interesting." Misha says, and his eyes rake over Jensen. He's got his good jeans on and despite earlier belief, his shirt's buttons are meticulously in order. He hadn't assumed when he had slipped into his clothing this morning that guys would be the party he'd be impressing with his outfit. Then again, he'd just come out to a stunning redhead and her gay companion, another task he hadn't assumed he would complete a few hours ago.
"You know," Danneel prompts, and she sets her cup down on the table, "Misha's single."
Misha swats her discreetly in the arm. Danneel grins. There's a proposal in her voice, but it's coming indirectly from Misha instead of her. Jensen isn't quite sure what to think, but his own grin doesn't waver.
"Really?" Jared pushes.
"Oh, yes. He's really been missing someone to do yoga with."
Jensen glances at Jared from the corner of his vision in the vain hope that after their years of close-knit teamwork and comradeship that Jared will get the hint and wordlessly inform Jensen of the next step in their so far shaky scheme, but the taller boy looks like he's much more engrossed in the idea of joining Misha in a downward dog pose and then blowing him on a yoga mat than aiding Jensen in his quest to bang Danneel Harris.
Jensen does what he does best, and keeps grinning. Danneel takes it as encouragement and grabs Jared's wrist in her tiny fingers.
"C'mon, I say we let these two talk."
If Jensen had suspicions about her intentions, they became clear the second he realizes that Jared is being hauled off by an either surprisingly strong Danneel or a very loose-limbed and sloshed Jared. And with the pair of them flouncing away from the drinks table, his heterosexuality flounced away from his grasp as well.
"So," Misha says, and Jensen had almost forgotten about his presence, "freshly gay? How's the other side of the fence?"
"...different." It's a conveniently vague word. Misha doesn't seem deterred by the ambiguity.
"I bet. Hey, at least it's not high school. That place is for beating up anybody who's not like anybody else."
Jensen smiles and nods stiffly, as though he's talking to his grandmother about her choices for the dinner china. He assumes that Misha's either naturally oblivious or too drunk to sense his discomfort when he still doesn't question it.
"If you wanted," Misha murmurs, and takes a step closer. Jensen breathes in a whiff of aftershave and what smells like the aftermath of a few tequila shots. "I could help you get used to the whole dick that isn't my own thing. Talk over coffee, maybe catch a movie."
Jensen doesn't know exactly what to say. He wants to blurt out that he's straight, straighter than a flagpole, that he's more interested in the woman that was hanging on his arm prior a few seconds ago, that coffee and a movie would make him very, very uncomfortable. He's got a whole speech explaining his heterosexuality tingling on the edge of his tongue, but he feels Jared and Danneel's eyes boring into the back of his head from behind him and he manages another easy grin.
"That sounds nice."
---
"So tell me again when during this plan I land Danneel and tell her the only dick I want to be getting used to is already in my pants."
Jared tuts, as if Jensen's lack of faith in his plan is far from understandable. He knocks Jensen's knees apart and sits between them, easing a tie around his neck.
"You're nervous."
"I'm going out with a guy. I'm straight." When Jared still fails to conjure up a response, Jensen adds on as a desperate afterthought, "Please tell me you see the clash of interests here."
"Do you expect you and Misha to have lots of buttsex in the middle of a gay pride parade here? You'll have coffee. He'll touch your knee. You'll kiss his cheek, go home. Misha tells Danneel how sweet you are, how well it went, and once again, the plan plays itself out perfectly."
"It worries me how much trust you have in this working."
"You're very pessimistic," Jared observes dryly and works a knot into the tie, smoothing down Jensen's collar, "now that you're gay, you've got to have a lot more spunk and a lot less frown."
"To be gay I have to be happy?"
"They're sort of synonyms." Jared says, with an aura of education dangling on his words as though he's spent hours pouring over the dictionary to be able to present Jensen with this information.
Jensen brushes Jared's hands dismissively off of his neck once he finishes knotting his tie, walking over to the mirror to fix any crooked buttons.
"What do I do if he kisses me?" Jensen mumbles over his shoulder, and his reflection seems to overhear. There's a good dosage of mockery radiating out of the mirror, and Jensen wants to wipe away his own image for the time being.
"You kiss back."
"I thought I wasn't going to have any gay buttsex here."
"Kissing doesn't always lead to whoring around, dude," Jared says, and looks at Jensen as though he wants to add a small little slut to the end of his sentence, but refrains because he's still too amused by the situation to be indignant about Jensen's assumptions about kissing.
"Well, I mean, is it different from kissing a girl?" Jensen inquires.
There's a long pause of what is presumably Jared creating a mental Venn diagram, and then proceeds to shrug noncommittally and step forward to fix Jensen's tie. He smooths down a few of the stray wrinkles on his stomach.
"Considering the last time you kissed a girl, you won't have anything to remember to compare it to."
"That's real nice, Jay."
"You're gay now, Jensen. I don't have to talk about your heterosexual experiences fondly anymore." Jared says, and his grin is shit-eating.
Jensen swats Jared's hands away from his tie as he loosens it, but the guy has more arms on an arm instead of a hand, and Jared's broad palm wins over as he keeps making adjustments to the way Jensen's clothing hangs on him.
"Maybe you should go on the date with Misha and I'll just go back into the closet earlier than expected." Jensen supplies, a little helplessly, as he spies his reflection in the mirror again. His shirt is snug and his pants hug his hips. It's a lot tight and a lot awkward and Jensen's pretty sure he can see his nipples through the flimsy fabric, which is not exactly a part of his body he's keen on putting on display in front of Misha or anyone else right now.
"I totally would."
"You like Misha?" Jensen asks.
"Misha's hot. Misha's always been hot. I've just never talked to him that much before." Jared shrugs again.
"I'll... mention you at dinner? Maybe you two can hook up once I'm with Danneel?"
Jared stares at him, long and hard, and after the allotted time of staring at someone that's allowed passes, Jensen starts to feel like perhaps he's missing something or forgot to hear a part of Jared's sentence. Internal or verbal.
"Just - don't do anything too slutty at the movies." Jared advises, and curls his lips into a thin, white line.
"Like give my first blow-job?" Jensen supplies.
"Sounds about right, actually."
"I'll let him save that for you. Don't worry 'bout it."
Jared stares at him again. Jensen blames the height difference, but he's feeling a little small and intimidated at the way Jared's staring him down, like he holds all the answers to the questions he doesn't want to hear responses to. Jared blinks at him. Jensen thinks there's a meaning behind it, or rather, what he's hoping for, that Jared just needed to blink.
"Look, just. Follow the plan." Jared orders, even though it's conveniently vague and Jensen isn't entirely sure that there are specific bullet points to follow in the scheme, but before he can question it, he's being pushed out of his dorm room by an impatient Jared.
Jensen is not excited about being gay.
---
The very first thing Jensen sees of Misha Collins is his underwear.
Jensen wasn't worrying too much about his appearance until he got to Misha's dorm, where the whiteboard hung up outside of it informed him that not only did Misha have a roommate, but said roommate happened to be Danneel. It turned into a frenzy of smoothing down all of the wrinkles Jared had forgotten and hoping his pants weren't slung too low on his hips, before ultimately, he knocked on the door. A stifled come in! wafted through the wall, and Jensen took the invitation.
Now, Jensen's wavering in the doorway of a tiny, cramped dorm room that looks like a rainbow parade exploded inside of it.
There's a collage of artsy frames hung up on the wall with Danneel and Misha with their arms looped around each other and grins plastered on their lips, posters of half-naked men like any dorm room has at least one of (except in this one, Jensen can't tell which inhabitant they belong to), and what smells suspiciously like an array of scented candles that give off the odor of fresh peaches in waves.
Lastly, there's also a man on the floor bent over a yoga mat in such a manner that his pants are slipping off of his hips and revealing a thin sliver of bright red briefs.
Jensen feels, to put it mildly, out of place.
"Hey." Misha says, suddenly out of his pretzel twist of a yoga pose and sending a wide smile in Jensen's direction. "You look awesome! Let me just get changed."
Misha traipses off in the direction of the bedroom. In the corner of his peripherals, Jensen spies Danneel watching innocently in the arm chair. He turns around, offering her a wave.
"Hi," Danneel says, and with one look at the revealing shirt she's wearing, Jensen can't help but believe he'll never stand as a homosexual permanently, "Are you nervous?"
"Just... a little." Jensen doesn't know what to say about his homosexual date. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say about his homosexual date. He's really still trying to wrap his mind around the homosexual part.
Oh, the things he does for beautiful women.
"Is he the first guy you're going out with, besides Jared? Since you're all fresh out of the closet?"
Jensen nods dumbly. Danneel smiles.
"He's a gentle guy. Just relax, he'll take care of you."
Jensen wants to ask what exactly Misha will be taking care of, but before he can start babbling about how he's a germaphobe or not into physical contact or much too straight for this whole ordeal, Misha's already coming back out of the door in a button-down and jeans, yoga pants stowed away.
"So now that we both look great," Misha prompts, "ready to leave?"
Really, he isn't. He'd much rather stay here with Danneel and keep talking about something that doesn't pertain to the subject of how much he's glad he's not being hugged into a closet anymore. Still, Misha doesn't seem to think that's an option, and before he can protest, he's waving a hasty goodbye to Danneel and his hand is twined tightly with Misha's.
---
As it turns out, Misha's actually an interesting person. If he tried, Jensen could probably write an entire book dedicated to Misha and his encounters with life. Some of them are bizarre enough to almost seem feigned, but Misha tells every one of his stories with such vigor that Jensen can't help but believe him.
They eat through dinner where Jensen promptly learns that Misha is one of those organic tea sort of individuals, the type he might find in a health food store trying to offer him basil to expand the duration of his life. He's strange, but he's interesting.
Jared was right. The whole thing almost feels like he's having dinner with a friend, except for the part where Misha's fingers eventually crawl up onto his knee and stay there throughout dessert. Still, it's not too bad. Jensen hasn't made any offensive homosexual quips yet that he tends to do around Jared all the time as a friendly tease, and he has yet to grow a little too wide-eyed at any suggestive contact from Misha and blow the entire game.
They talk about Misha's dreams to be an architect, a carpenter, an actor, a baker, a candlestick maker, and just about everything else a student could or could not major in at college, and occasionally Misha tries to worm a few words out of Jensen, like how his coming out was, or how he discovered he was gay. Jensen always hurries back to topics like candlestick making.
Before he knows it, the bill is paid and his fingers are threaded with Misha's again sandwiched in between the stocked shelves of a video rental store. Misha's in the middle of advertising off Moulin Rouge and mindless comedies when Jensen's phone goes off and Jared's name appears on the screen.
Jensen edges away from Misha as politely as possible after excusing himself and rounding a few shelves, answering the shrill ringing.
"Jared?"
"Jensen," there's a complete lack of amusement in Jared's tone that Jensen isn't very used to hearing, "it's past nine. Where are you. Come home."
There are no questions in Jared's monotone commands. Jensen's reminded of his youth, where he used to sneak out with Jared or a girl he'd met in his language class at school after hours and his mother would call him a minute past curfew to give him a good scolding and command him to come home instantly.
"We're just getting a movie, Jared."
"A movie? A movie? Are you kidding me, Jensen?" Jared makes it sound like Jensen and Misha are diabolically planning the end of all rainbows in a cave in India, and Jensen isn't quite sure what to say in response.
"...no."
"I can't believe this."
"It's... a comedy?" Jensen offers.
"Oh god," Jared says, "that's even worse."
"You don't want me educating myself in humorous film?"
"Jensen," Jared says, and it's an admonishment, like Jensen sneaked into the cookie jar before dinner, "A video is something you watch after dinner at home so you can make out and have sex through the whole thing so you're asleep in each other's arms by the credits."
Jensen's gaze discreetly wafts over to Misha, who, sure enough, is browsing the movies that Jensen fell asleep in at the movie theater. Images of Misha's fist in his pants and impromptu buttsex flit through Jensen's mind, and he hushes into the phone, "What do I do?"
"Come the hell home."
"I can't just leave."
"What?! So now you're all bi-curious all of a sudden?"
"Danneel's gonna be waiting at his place!" Jensen reasons, and ducks under the horror movies to continue on his urgent whispering into the receiver.
"Oh, come on!" Jared cries.
"If she's not there, I'll say I'm not feeling well." Jensen reasons, and when he spies Misha's tuft of dark brown hair wandering over the shelves over to where Jensen's kneeling by a copy of My Bloody Valentine, he snaps his phone shut before Jared can ramble out more homosexual words of wisdom, or rather, demands.
"You seen this one?" Misha jiggles a copy of a DVD so boring, the cover is practically blank. Jensen pins his bottom lip between his teeth and manages a short shake of his head.
---
What Jensen really loathes to admit more than once every night is when Jared is repeatedly right.
The lights are dimmed to accommodate the television glare and the space between Misha and Jensen on the couch is slowly dwindling from two whole cushions, to one, to half of one.
Jensen's been keeping his eyes trained intently on the television all night long, almost as if he's watching a thoroughly engaging porn video instead of something that vaguely resembles a historic documentary on the science channel. If his peripherals aren't lying, Misha is quite the contrary, and hasn't stolen a single glance at the TV all night.
He would give the guy props for trying, except that his heart rate is pounding at an alarmingly swift pace the closer Misha and his genitals get to his body. He isn't even quite sure how to approach the situation, like a seventh grader trying to waltz at his first dance or a teenager exchanging his first clumsy date with his girlfriend.
Misha's hand on his neck happens before he can see it inching toward the back of the couch. Misha's got a large thumb, brushing over the bristly strands of hair gathering at the nape of his neck in soothing circles. It would almost be nice, if the palpitations of Jensen's heart aren't beating harder than a trailer park husband.
"Movie's great, right?" Jensen tries to strike up, but to his horror, Misha only snickers lowly in response and moves closer.
"Haven't been watching."
And then there's lips on his neck, kissing and suckling, and there's no trace of lip gloss or any other make-up residue anywhere as a souvenir. Just deep, dark, demanding hickeys delivered by no other than Misha Collins, who just so happens to be a man.
Misha's hand worms it way onto Jensen's thigh, and when Jensen still doesn't protest or push Misha back in an obvious rejection, Misha replaces his palm with himself and promptly straddles Jensen's lap.
It's strange and oddly heavy to have a man sitting on his legs instead of a petite waist and tiny legs and a plump chest in his face. Misha's lips are still on his neck, leaving marks that Jensen's going to need a turtleneck to cover up properly, and the slight scrape of stubble against his collarbone reminds Jensen exactly who this is, what this is, and that by no means, is this Danneel.
"Misha-"
"Shhh."
"But-" Jensen squirms a little, and Misha wriggles his hips. There's something, long and hard and insistent, pressing up straight into his thigh, and Jensen almost scrambles off of the couch. He's had his few embarrassing boner incidents in his lifetime, like once when Jared tackled him in his backyard and his dick took a sudden interest, but by this point, he doubts he can call this incidental.
"Hush." Misha says when Jensen opens his mouth to speak. He's got teeth he likes to use, biting at the sensitive spot right under Jensen's ear, making him jump.
"Danneel-"
"Don't worry, I told her to stay out tonight." Misha reassures, voice muffled in Jensen's damp neck.
Jensen whimpers. Misha's not a bad looking guy, and to be fair, he knows exactly what to do and how to do it with his lips and body alike, but all he really wants right now to call Jared. Whether it to be to beg for him to pick him up instantly or offer him advice.
Then again, he's not sure what advice he's looking for. What to do when an attractive gay men licks your neck, or what to do to get a gay man off of your neck?
When a dose of logic kicks in, he's reminded that calling Jared really isn't a smart idea at all. Jared's been fully-fledged gay since he came traipsing out of the closet at prom a few years ago, and Jensen chasing after men and stealing the ones Jared admires right out from under his nose when he's denied any existence of his homosexuality is against any existing bro code.
"Misha, c-can we, er." Jensen pushes, ineffectually, but Misha's head still comes up for air from Jensen's neck. His lips are red and swollen from their work, and Jensen doesn't even want to check how many hickeys he's acquired by now. He's pretty sure that by this point he could play connect the dots with them.
"You're nervous, aren't you?
Jensen thinks of all of the things he is. Gay doesn't fall into that category. Nervous certainly does.
"Yeah."
"Don't be. I'm here with you." Misha murmurs, a soft, low grumble facsimile of his usual voice. And then, without any warning, Misha's palm goes to rub through Jensen's jeans.
Jensen inhales. His palm's larger than a girl's so it covers much more area on his groin, and Jensen feels a little shamefaced to admit that yes, it's nice.
When he gets home, he's going to be murdered. Slowly. Jared bought a whole set of Wolfgang Puck kitchen knives last weekend after swearing to start putting them to good use and make lots and lots of salad, but by now Jensen's starting to think they'll have other uses that won't include chopping up onions and tomatoes.
But when Misha's fingers deftly undo the button of his pants and slip in to grab his hardening erection and Jensen's throat decides to let loose a guttural moan without asking for permission, he figures he'll worry about that later.
---
After speeding down the highway at a speed that would've resulted in a intense car chase had the cops witnessed it, Jensen's inching into the dorm parking lot with his car at an ominously slow pace.
Knowing Jared, the guy's probably awake. He's probably diving into a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and watching Logo as the minutes tick by. Jensen doesn't have to be officially gay to know that heterosexuals and homosexuals alike have the same rule: coming home after midnight means someone got laid.
His legs are tingling as he walks up the stairs to Jared and his room like they might after a hot bath, except that this time the subsiding tremors are the aftermaths of the dull satisfaction that comes with getting off.
Now that his mind isn't fogging over quite as much as it was in the dim light and amongst the cushions of Misha's couch with his hand pumping his dick, Jensen vaguely recalls it being short and a little messy. He blames his poor stamina on the fact that it's really been a while since the last time he had proper sex with someone else's nether regions, but other than that, it had been good.
When he thinks about it, that really isn't a very convincing argument to give to Jared when he explains what happened. He would almost prefer it if he could deny any pleasure he had out of tonight.
"A hand is a hand," Jensen's murmuring to himself, rehearsing potential excuses as he pops his collar to ridiculous heights just to give him a semblance of dignity and conceal the noticeable spots on his neck, "I even told him about the impressive size of your stamp collection at dinner."
His excuses are lackluster at best. Jensen lets out an exhale he hasn't realized he's been holding in and slips into his dorm room.
"Jared?"
Jared's sitting atop the kitchen counter with an instant cup of ramen furled into his hands. Jensen detests those things, even if it's symbolism college food, and Jared does too. They used to buy them just to eat out the pieces of corn together and make mustaches with the curled noodles.
"Someone's looking a little gay." Jared says.
"You're still up."
"I was about to say the same thing about your dick." Jared pours the remainders of his cup into the sink nearby, noodles swimming down the drain. Jensen leans against the fridge. A magnet digs insistently into the flesh of his shoulder.
"I know you like him," Jensen says slowly, as though he's picking his words like the whole conversation is an intense game of Scrabble and he only has so many letters, "I wouldn't have done it if I knew Danneel wasn't going to come home."
"She never did?"
"No."
"And you had sex with Misha anyway?"
Jared's naturally got warm eyes. Never in the years that Jensen has known him has he ever been able to pinpoint them to a certain color or shade, just warmth. Specks of everything in the color wheel seemed to gather into a smorgasbord of greens and chocolates in Jared's iris. But right now, eclipsed in the shadows of the nighttime and with the weight of the situation, they seem much too distant for Jensen's liking.
"No item A went into any slot B, all right?" Jensen clarifies, and rakes his fingers through his hair, "it was more... dry humping than anything else."
"So something in the sexual form of thrusting."
"Jared, I'm not gonna be gay forever," Jensen reasons and fiddles with the magnet his shoulder dug into on the fridge. It's small and round and his thumb slides it around easily so he has something else to focus on other than Jared's face and his lack of a smile, a rarity on the guy's features. "This was your plan."
"I know, it's just-" Jared bites his lip. If there's anyone who makes their thinking hideously obvious, it's Jared. It's incredibly effortless to see the battle practically working itself out, or on some occasions, causing more causalities, inside Jared's pupils. "Jen, I think you're a smart guy. But sometimes you're really, really stupid."
Jensen's brow knits together and he's about to retaliate with something equally hurtful when Jared hops off of the counter, steps out of the shadows, and a gleam of light catches the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes.
It's a little sad and a lot Lifetime and Jensen isn't sure what to say when Jared fixes him with one hard stare that he's sure is secretly harboring a reprimand along with a few other choice words and hidden meanings, and then he promptly stalks past him into his bedroom.
If the door had slammed a few times or Jared had knocked deliberately into his shoulder, it would have been unnecessarily dramatic, the sort of thing Jensen could start a histrionic Facebook status about. Thanks to Jensen, the door only slams once.
( Part Two )