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raeschaeTitle: Disclaimer: We Will Not Be Held Responsible . . . 2/7
Author:raeschae
Rating: Hard R/NC-17(?) (I don't know – I guess it depends on your sensibilities)
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Chad, Sophia, Sandy, Genevieve (My list of characters will always be those featured in the chapter – suffice it to say pretty much everyone's in the story at some point or another.)
Summary: Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.
Warnings: This story is NOT an Mpreg. (I know that's kind of an anti-warning, but I wanna make sure that the graphic, especially, is not misleading to anyone.)
Word Count: 6000 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own any human beings at present time. If I do, at some point, acquire one of the individuals mentioned here, you'll be the first to know.
A/N: Thanks, guys, for the overwhelming response to chapter one. I was kind of scared, in that new kid kind of way, that everybody was going to think 'who's this crazy new chick?' Your support is awesome! So thanks!
Graphic under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
Jared's not such a fan of being watched. It happens a lot, being as he spends a not-small-portion of the time hanging out with rock stars and actors. And being as he's about twelve feet tall, and covered in tattoos. But it's still weird because, really, he's just a kid from San Antonio who happens to be artistic. And that talent has led him down a road he never imagined, and he's just kind of following the path, wherever it leads him. He knows that people stare at him, unsure of who he is most of the time, and sometimes of what he is. He gets it. Hell, sometimes he craves it. It's just that he just doesn't really like it.
Except when it's Jensen watching him. That he could live with for the rest of his natural life, he's pretty sure. His life has never really been stable, sometimes by chance and sometimes by Jared's own design, but Jensen? Jensen's the anchor that tethers him to the world at large, the one thing that makes the uncertain kid from Texas feel like he's found a safe place to just . . . be.
Rolling his head without opening his eyes, he mumbles, “Time is it?” to the man he doesn't have to see to know is watching him.
“Nine twenty-three,” Jensen answers without missing a beat, the pads of his fingers brushing over Jared's cheek as he chases stray hairs back from his cheek.
Jensen hates mornings. Maybe more than anyone Jared's ever met. Hates the sun for rising. Hates opening his eyes. Hates rolling out of bed. Jared's pretty sure, if daylight could be punched in the neck, Jensen would do it. It's actually a fairly rare occasion when he's coherent before Jared in the morning.
His tongue travels over his sleep-dried lips and Jared leans his face further into the contact, arm tightening around Jensen's back. He wonders, not for the first time, why Jensen's the only person who's ever been able to fall asleep on Jared's arm without his arm falling asleep right back. With anyone else, it's always been uncomfortable to waken all tangled up like this, but with Jensen? It's never bothered him. If he believed in shit like karma and signs and destiny, he'd think it means something. As it is, he's resigned it to one of the mysteries of the universe that's never actually meant to be solved.
As much as Jensen hates mornings, Jared's always kind of loved them. He's not rolling out of bed at five thirty or anything – usually because he hasn't even dropped into bed by then – but he likes the quiet that comes with the start of the day. Usually, Jensen's asleep, and the lights are out, and Jared can brew coffee and sit on the bedroom balcony, and enjoy the feeling of the day waking up with him.
This morning, though, he's exhausted. Heavy limbs, aching muscles, and the faintest hint of a headache around the corners of his brain. Jumping from drunk, to emotional, to completely fucked-out kind of took it's toll on Jared, and he's pretty sure he'd like to just stay in the bed all day. No clients, no interruptions. Just warm sheets under his back, warm sun through the window, and warm skin draped over him. Jensen's not usually hard to convince for days like this.
“TJ,” he mutters, and it's so soft he thinks maybe he just thought it in his head, instead of actually saying it out loud.
“When?” Jensen counters and Jared kind of loves the way he doesn't have to use full sentences for Jensen to understand him. He'd given up on the kind of relationship they have long before he ever met this graphic designer from Dallas, but something in his chest just fucking knew the day Jensen walked into his shop with Chris that it was something. Didn't know what yet, but it was something.
“Tonight,” Jared answers, limbs still refusing to move, even when Jensen dips his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the top of Jared's bicep. He's always kissing Jared in weird places, and Jared's never really been one to complain. It feels more intimate, like it's just something they do. Nobody else gets it, and he likes that about it.
“Kay,” Jensen agrees easily, moving his kisses to the underside of Jared's bare arm. It tickles when his morning stubble brushes the sensitive skin, but he's too drained to flinch or pull away.
Yesterday was just too much, with the emotions and all of the bull shit that Jared didn't want to think about. Still doesn't want to think about. Hence the TJ suggestion. Even though he knows damn well Jensen gets it, understands exactly what it means, Jared needs to get away. Needs to escape for a little bit. Bring himself back to center. The bungalow that they bought on the beach in Tijuana last year is the perfect place. Mexican heat, sandy beaches, and naked Jensen. Jared's pretty sure there's nothing else he needs in the world as much as he needs that right now.
The blasted ringing of a cell phone interrupts their quiet moment, and Jared begins an internal planning about how many appointments he has today and how he can shift them around when Jensen reaches to answer it. Tomorrow's pretty much clear, if he remembers correctly, and Chad and Sophia can handle the walk-ins. Yeah, they're a man down now that Steve's out on tour, but they can manage without Jared for a day or two. He's pretty sure he won't be much good anyway, if he doesn't get some relaxation.
When Jared finally pulls himself out of his head, finally drags his eyes open, Jensen is sitting beside him, leaned against the headboard, staring at nothing and nodding his head in concentration. And he's naked. Which is pretty much all the invitation Jared needs to roll onto his stomach, drag himself over Jensen's thigh, and reach out to grip the base of his boyfriend's half-hard cock.
Jensen's jade eyes fly wide open at the contact and he shakes his head furiously when Jared looks up to meet his eye. Don't, he mouths, but Jared doesn't listen. Jared never listens. Just continues studying Jensen's beautiful face with a wicked gleam in his eye as his tongue darts out to drag over the quickly hardening flesh. So warm. So full against his tongue.
How he has the presence of mind to cover the mouthpiece of his receiver before he moans, Jared doesn't know, but Jensen does it, head thrown back against the wall and eyes squeezed shut as Jared quickens his pace. There'll be time for slow, languid lovemaking, not that either of them will call it that, in Mexico. For now, he wants to see Jensen fall apart in record time.
Not that he will. Fall apart, that is. It's kind of impressive the way he regains his composure while getting head and talking on the phone at the same time. Last week, he was on a conference call with Tom, his business manager, and a couple of big-wigs from Macy's. They've been trying to broker an exclusive deal to sell a line of Jensen's tee shirts nationwide, and while he would never admit it, Jared knew that it was a big deal to his boyfriend. Could tell by the tension in his posture as he paced the length of his home office and spoke in short, clipped sentence to everyone who addressed him.
Wanting nothing more than to be helpful, Jared crossed the office, dropped to his knees, and unzipped Jensen's pants. Same thing as this morning, same wide eyes and mouthed warning, and Jared ignored it then, too. It took Jensen all of five seconds to bite his lip and collect himself, and then he was answering questions as though nothing was happening on the floor beneath his chair. Even when Jared took him deep in the back of his throat, Jensen managed to convey something about maintaining total artistic freedom. He was silent when he came hot against the back of Jared's throat and all the younger man could do was sit back and marvel as he wiped his lips and drew a wink and a fucking pet on the top of his shaggy head from his boyfriend.
Yeah, Jensen's a freak in the bedroom most of the time, turns Jared out in ways nobody else has ever been able to. But when it comes to getting phone head? He's a motherfucking pro, that's what he is. And it probably turns Jared on more than it should. More than you'd think it could, that's for sure.
The blunt fingernails scratching at his skull, and the slight movement of Jensen's hips are the only things that really tip Jared off to his awareness of the situation. Without that, he might think that Jensen didn't even notice Jared's lips around him, or feel his tongue tracing that pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. If he didn't feel Jensen's fingers tighten in his hair as he got closer to completion, Jared's not sure he would believe that Jensen was really there with him at all.
“So it's just',” Jensen finally speaks, fingers tugging at Jared's hair more insistently as he narrowed his eyes to focus on whatever the caller was saying in his ear. “I don't know, man. Sounds too fuckin' easy, ya know?” He comes, eyes drifting shut for a fraction of a second before he licks his lips and grins at Jared like a million evil thoughts of revenge are running through his head all at one time. “Guess it pays to have friends in high places, huh?” he adds to his conversation, foot traveling up the back of Jared's thigh, toe tracing the crashing ocean wave tattooed there.
Resting his forehead on Jensen's stomach, Jared takes a second to enjoy the feeling. Jensen knows him. Has him memorized. Every design on his body, Jensen can trace without looking. Every ridge of every muscle, his tongue could map blind. He's never met anyone, in all of his twenty-six years, who has ever wanted to take the time to know him the way Jensen knows him. It's unnerving and exhilarating all at one time. Whether it's walking through the door and not having to explain his shitty day because his boyfriend can see from the look on his face that he doesn't want to talk about it, or Jensen telling Danneel to lock up behind her when she closes the store, just because Jared walked through the door of Ollie with a need you right the fuck now expression. Jensen just seems to know.
When he finally clicks his phone shut and drops it onto the bedside table, Jensen clutches Jared's shoulder until their eyes meet through lowered lashes once again. “Get up here,” he chuckles, pressing his lips eagerly to Jared's as he covers Jensen's smaller body with his own. “You're gonna fuckin' kill me some day, man,” he laughs.
Jared would apologize, but really? He's not at all sorry. “That was Chris?” he asks, and he's not sure how he knows, but he does. Maybe it's not just Jensen that does the knowing in this relationship.
Nodding, Jensen lets Jared kiss his neck as he relays the information his friend just laid on him. “Big Dave knows some judge in juvie court that granted Chris emergency guardianship this morning. Owed him a favor or somethin', I guess. Just means that, while they search for the kid's family or whatever, Chris has the court's permission to act on his behalf.”
Jared knows what it means, but he doesn't bother pointing that out. Doesn't want to talk about it. “This judge know Chris's bailin' town?” Jensen shrugs, and Jared would maybe wanna smack the stupid out of him, if he wasn't so fucking happy laying right where he is. Sure, it's great that Dave has some family court judge in his back pocket – works out nicely for Chris's conscience or whatever, but it doesn't make the situation any better. Just means that one more person in Brayden's life is taking responsibility for him, and then passin' him off on somebody else so they don't have to do the real work.
For some reason, Chris has decided to be the white knight in this situation, but Jared has a feeling his, and Jensen's, new save the world mentality is a little too lacking in the actual application of anything resembling reality. Not that he's ever going to be able to convince either of them of that. Not that he's going to try. Not his issue, and he meant what he said when he told Jensen that he doesn't feel the need to save every foster kid in America.
“Where's he gonna stay, Jen?” he asks, praying that Jensen doesn't take that as some kind of crazy offer. Because really? It's a thousand kinds of wrong for either of them to start thinking they have any business whatsoever taking care of a child. He just hopes Jensen doesn't ask him to list those reasons, because the only ones Jared can come up with at the moment are: 1.) They are going to Mexico tonight. 2.) They haven't called the cleaning lady to stop by in a couple of weeks. And 3.) There is a string of anal beads and a Fleshlight on the kitchen counter. There are more though. He knows there are more.
“Tom's gonna take him,” Jensen says, voice starting to drift away like he can finally rest easy now that he knows the kid's going to be alright. Like everything all better now. Like he doesn't even notice that Jared obviously disagrees.
“Jamie okay with that?” Jared asks of Tom's wife, who Jared thinks deserves a medal for the patience she has in dealing with years of her husband's less-than-discreet indiscretions. Well, a medal or a swift kick in the ass. It's kind of a toss-up.
Jensen shrugs again and his hands leave Jared as he scratches over the tattoo on his left pectoral. The one Jared etched for their anniversary last year. It's a symbol for 'cancer' – his own zodiac sign. He has a 'pisces' one in the same place, for Jensen's sign. He was never supposed to be the guy who tattooed anything having to do with another person anywhere on his body. He was never supposed to be a lot of the things he is with Jensen.
“According to Danneel, they're not speaking right now. I guess her walking in and actually seeing Mike sucking Tom's dick wasn't exactly a welcome visual,” he huffs.
And Jared can't help but pull a face. “Can you blame her?” he asks, rolling off of Jensen and propping himself up on his elbow. “Anybody who lets Rosenbaum anywhere near their dick deserves to get kicked the fuck outta the house.”
Jensen's laughing as he burrows back down into his pillow. He'll relax now that Chris has convinced him that the world isn't going to end. Jensen's like that – pretends to be tough as nails, but where his friends are concerned? His heart is as big as the state he still calls home. They're not mushy, chick-flick kind of guys, but if pressed, Jared would admit that Jensen's fierce loyalty to the people he cares about is probably one of the things he loves the very most about the guy.
Of course, Jensen's technique when his hand closes around Jared's still-hardened shaft is pretty high up on that list, too. It's not that he forgot he hadn't gotten off when Jensen did a few minutes ago, but with all the talk about the kid and whatnot, it didn't really seem like the appropriate time to ask for a return favor. His boy never leaves him hanging, though. It's another constant in the relationship between Jensen and Jared.
“So,” Jensen starts, easy as anything, as though he's not jerking Jared in long, lazy strokes that are about to drive the younger man out of his mind. “TJ tonight, huh?” Jared nods, lip caught between his teeth as he tries to focus. He's not as good at the multi-tasking as Jensen is. “We should take the bike,” Jensen goes on, a rough growl on his lips when Jared's head falls back. “Whatcha think, Jay? You, me, couple thousand CC's rumbling between our thighs?”
“Fuck, Jen,” Jared breathes, unsure of whether it's the words Jensen is saying, or the timber of his deep, smoke-tinged voice that affects him so strongly.
“Yeah?” Jensen leans forward, closes the gap between them, and presses his lips, open and wet, against the column of Jared's exposed throat, teeth raking over the skin just the way Jared loves it. “It's gonna be so good, Jay,” he promises. “Feel you up all the way to TJ, get you all hot and hard for me.”
When Jared risks opening his eyes, Jensen is watching him with heated focus, tongue running over his plump, lower lip. “What . . . when . . . get there,” he tries to engage, but Jensen's got him so close to the edge, he's not sure what he's trying to say. “Jesus Christ, Jensen,” is all he manages to say with any degree of clarity as Jensen begins to thumb the head of his cock in lazy circles, staving off a climax while still heightening his already spiked pleasure.
“What am I gonna do to you when we get there?” he asks the question Jared couldn't seem to spit out and Jared just clenches his eyes tightly and nods, his forehead brushing against his boyfriend's shoulder. “Wanna strip you down on the deck,” he explains. “'Member that railing you built last summer?” Jared's only response is a whimper. “Yeah . . . wanna bend you over that railing, Jay. Start fuckin' you all slow and lazy while the tides roll in.”
He thinks he's going to be able to hold off, to wait until Jensen describes more, but then Jensen changes the rules. He squeezes his fist, tugs firm and hard on Jared's shaft while his lips find that spot behind Jared's ear that drives him insane. “Come on, Jay.” Jensen shifts his hips, their bodies mere inches apart. “Wanna feel you come,” he adds.
Like Jared's going to be able to do anything else?
Heart pounding against his ribs, Jared waits until he can breathe properly before opening his eyes to see Jensen staring down at him. Of all the times he loves being watched by Jensen, this has to be his favorite. The adoration and pure awe that pours from the older man's eyes as he watches Jared shaken completely apart is maybe the most beautiful sight in the world.
“My last appointment should be over by six. Can you . . . “ he trails the word as Jensen dips to kiss him quickly and then rolls to the left to slip out of the bed, the tattoo that Jared chose for their first anniversary low on his left hip. It's probably a pretty cheap gift for a couple of guys who make as much as he and Jensen do, just choosing a design and the placement of a new tat to mark another year together, but it's far more personal than anything Jared can buy in a store, and Jensen seems to appreciate them, so maybe it's not so bad.
“Staff meeting at 4:30, and then I'm out,” Jensen wiggles his eyebrows before heading out of the bedroom and across the hall. When Jared hears the bathroom door close, and the shower start, he breathes deeply and lets his eyes fall shut once again.
A few more minutes, and then he'll get up. Work for a few hours, make sure the crew has everything together at the shop, and then head back to pick Jensen up. A little R&R in TJ and everything will be A-OK once again. Life will be zen and perfect, just like it was before the clock struck midnight and flung everything out of order last night.
Jared met Chad upon arriving in LA, almost immediately. Both drifters in their own right, they gravitated to each other in the way that only a yin and a yang can truly do. When Jared found out that Chad was a pretty wicked graffiti artist, and that he desperately wanted to learn how to tattoo, he'd done his best to give the kid lessons. And when he bought Slinging Ink, it was only natural to start employing the people who's work he knew, and whom he trusted.
When he learned how to tat back in high school, it was just supposed to be an outlet for him. Artistic expression that would give him a place to channel his teenaged angst and anger. It was never really a way out of anything. In fact, if you had told sixteen-year-old Jared that he would some day make a living tattooing rock stars and painting pop art for actors, he would have laughed in your face. Or punched you in the mouth. Dumb luck and a whole lot of chance led him to this place. Not that he's going to sneeze at it or anything.
Chad was at the party that night. The night that kicked everything off for Jared. When some kid at some kegger said he wanted a tat, Jared offered to do it for him. He had a few basic supplies in the back of his truck, and he set up at the kitchen table. Totally illegal and probably slightly unsanitary, but the result was pretty fucking incredible, especially given his limited resources.
That kid turned out to be the younger brother of some bass player in one of those punk/pop bands that all sound exactly the same as every other band on the charts right now. Big brother was Jared's next client, and then the rest of his band. By the end of the summer, he's pretty sure he inked up the whole of the Warped Tour, instructing Chad every step of the way.
Growing up as Jared did, he doesn't spend a lot of money frivolously. In fact, if he and Jensen fight over anything, it's the fact that Jensen can't save a dime to save his life, and Jared would rather hold on to his cash with both hands than ever let it go on something he doesn't need. Jensen's theory is that money is worthless if it's just sitting in a bank with no purpose. Jared's philosophy veers more toward the belief that you never know when you may hit a patch of bad luck and find yourself living out of your car. Back up is very important.
It was his frugal way of saving cash that allowed him to buy Slinging Ink at the age of twenty-one. When he was hired on, at nineteen, the owner was working by himself and garnering little-to-no business. Jared brought his small base of high”ish”-profile clientele and turned revenue around, but it wasn't enough to keep the previous owner interested in running a place that he was clearly no longer in charge of. So he offered it to Jared. And Jared paid generously to start his own business before most kids his age were even out of college.
He brought Chad in for a couple of reasons. One, he's Jared's best friend. What twenty-one-year-old kid doesn't want to work every day with his best friend? And two, his background in graffiti and airbrushing make him one hell of a script artist. He can handle basic design as well as Jared can, and he manages to run interference when Jared won't admit that he needs a break. Chad's employee of the month, every month, and nobody really questions it. Mostly because Chad's the only one who refers to himself as such, but still . . . Jared can't disagree.
A few months after joining up with Jared, Chad asked if he could bring his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Sophia on board. When Jared saw her portfolio, he hired her without hesitation. She is, bar none, the best portrait artist he's ever met. Kat Von D has nothing on Sophia Bush, as far as Jared's concerned.
Almost a year after they opened, Jared ran into Steve at music festival. Somehow, talk turned to the rising reputation Jared was building for himself, and how Steve would love to rent some space and set up shop at Jared's place part-time, if the kid didn't have a problem with it. He's not technically an employee, being as he pays rent and sets his own hours, but he's just as much a part of the team as anyone now. His expertise lies in nature – birds, fish, flowers, etc. - and it's only fitting, seeing as he belongs on a beach in Hawaii somewhere, sipping Corona with his feet tucked in the white sands while he strums some hapless melody on his beat-up old guitar.
After that, it became pretty obvious that they would need some help keeping things organized, so Jared called a temp-to-hire agency for a part-time receptionist. Sandy McCoy was an aspiring actress back then. Now she's Jared's full-time business manager, and he has to admit that thing runs smoother with her at the helm than they ever did when he was trying to keep it all in order.
“Gen,” he nods toward the newest member of their team, a tiny brunette named Genevieve who's been a loyal customer since Jared took her ink virginity three years ago. She answers phones, sets up appointments, and most importantly, makes coffee and lunch runs when things get a little too crazy inside the shop. She's been a Godsend, really, and the fact that she greets him every day with a smile and a caramel machiatto from the coffee place down the boardwalk doesn't hurt her standing with her boss one bit.
“Hey, Jay,” she nods, extending the coffee cup without so much as a glance away from her computer screen. “PCD in twenty minutes. Something little – told her Chad could handle it – but she insisted.” Her mouth pulls into a grimace as she tears her eyes away from the screen. “And Brock called.”
Jared can't help smiling at the way she winces. Everyone in the shop knows that Brock Kelly has been pretty much stalking Jared since they met at a party a few years back. He's nice enough, and he's pretty subtle, but it's still kind of obvious to the entire team that he wants more than Jared's ink on his body every time he comes in for a new piece.
“What's he lookin' for this time?” Jared asks, crossing the room to drop his keys into the drawer at his station. Truth be told, Brock bothers Jensen more than he bothers Jared. The kid's nice enough, and sure as hell easy on the eyes, but Jared barely noticed before Jensen came into his life. Now, Brock's a moot point.
“You want me to answer that honestly?” she asks, eyes glinting in amusement as Jared shakes his head good-naturedly. “Shoulder piece,” is the answer she settles for, swinging around on her bar stool and propping her combat boot-clad feet onto the counter. She twirls a streak of candy-apple hair around her finger and considers it thoughtfully before going on. “I told him that you were booked today, but he said he'd just stop by later and drop the sketch off for you to look over.”
Jared just nods, takes it all in stride. Not much rattles him these days, and he thinks it's probably the reason his team likes working for him so much. “You sure I have a PCD this morning?” he questions her earlier statement once his brain wraps around the schedule for the day. He doesn't remember that being a part of the agenda. Not that he really cares what appointments Genevieve makes without asking him first, just as long as the last ass is out of his chair by six.
Genevieve shrugs her thin shoulders. “I think it's a PCD. One of those lip-syncers who gyrates around with her tits hangin' out,” she answers easily. So easily that it makes Jared laugh.
The Pussycat Dolls have been faithful clients of Jared's for years. Started coming in when Sandy was working with the troupe, and haven't stopped, regardless of the formation, since. He doesn't mind them, but they grate on Genevieve's last nerve. Pretty much any hot chick that would rather pay more attention to Jared than Genevieve grates on her nerves, though.
“Kimberly,” Sandy supplies the name as she steps out of the back room, a steaming bowl of microwaved soup in her hand. “What's with this text you sent me this morning?” She holds up her blackberry, as though Jared forgot sending her a message.
“Headin' down TJ way tonight,” he explains as he checks his ink wells and makes sure that his glove supply is ample for the day. Not that he should doubt that it will be – Sandy takes good care of him. “Chad and Soph are gonna handle walk-ins, but make sure that anybody who asks knows I'll be back on Thursday,” he instructs.
“TJ, huh?” Sophia's smokey voice filters into the room just before she does, also carrying a Cup o' Noodles in her hands. “I want a night in Mexico with my hotter-than-fuck-all boyfriend,” she fakes a pout and then smiles when Jared winks his greeting in her direction.
Genevieve snorts and goes back to her computer screen. “Too bad the only boyfriend you have is Chad then.”
The girls laugh, and as if summoned, Chad comes blowing through the door in a leather jacket and aviator sunglasses. In Los Angeles. In early September. “What's funny?” he asks as he cuts through to the back of the studio, stopping to drop a kiss on Sophia's head as he goes.
“You,” Sophia answers innocently, sipping at her cup.
He just grunts and dumps the jacket, keeps the sunglasses, and sinks into his chair. “There coffee?” he asks.
They all know he drank way too much last night – were all at Chris's to witness it – and that he'll be an ass most of the morning. Chad doesn't do 'hungover' very well at all.
“Here,” Genevieve grins brightly, hopping off her stool to deliver his drink. She's not Chad's biggest fan, but she's chipper as anything when he's like this. Mostly to piss him off, Jared thinks. When Chad reaches for the cup, Genevieve holds it out of his reach and her smile brightens. “Only if you say please.”
“What if I say I'll punch you in your throat if you don't hand it over right the fuck now?” Chad manages with a fake smile that stretches ear to ear.
Genevieve is actually the one who does the punching, hard into Chad's right should as he reaches out to take the coffee she's offering. He scowls, but says nothing, as he sinks back further into his chair and cradles his cup with both hands.
“So what's the deal with this kid Lindsay dropped off after we left?” Sandy asks when everyone's kind of settled in for the morning.
Jared's back stiffens at the mention. He really needs that night away. Like now. “Fuck if I know,” he answers, massive shoulders shrugging as he tries to play it cool. “Her ex left his kid with her and took off. Some judge Dave knows granted Chris ETG and he's gonna stay with Tommy until Chris can figure out what to do with him, I think,” he explains as quickly as he can, hoping that's going to be the end of the discussion. He'd be happy never to think about it again, actually.
“What's ETG?” Genevieve asks innocently, back at her computer. Jared's pretty sure she spends most of her day chatting with gamers and Sci-Fi movie fans online, but she does her job and that's really the only thing that matters to him. She can stare at the screen all day as long as he doesn't have to answer the phone and schedule his own appointments.
“Emergency Temporary Guardianship,” Sophia explains before Jared has to. “That's fuckin' quick, Jay. I mean, it's been, what? Twelve hours?” Jared just shrugs again and bends his knees to lean against his station. “I don't know, man. Is that even right? Can they do that? Legally?”
Again, Jared shrugs. He's seen stranger things in his lifetime. And he knows, from experiences he doesn't really want to talk about, that certain judges can be easily convinced to come down on any given side, regardless of what the law, and a medical report from a board-certified surgeon, says. He has no doubt that legally, Chris is Brayden's guardian for the time being. He also knows that he's gonna have a hard time staying that way if anybody bothers to ask a few questions and find out that he's not actually the one caring for the kid.
“Dani said the kid looked skittish as a bunny last night,” Sophia goes on. She befriended Danneel quickly, almost immediately upon meeting her at the first joint party of the Slinging Ink crew, and Jensen's Ollie kids. The fact that the red-head has already filled Sophia in on everything from last night isn't surprising. Just annoying.
“Looked like a kid,” is his only response because, really? He wasn't paying that much attention when Brayden showed up last night. He basically went from the back door to the bathroom to the living room. It's not like they had a lengthy chat. And he doesn't make a habit of staring at twelve-year-old boys.
But as much as he wants to drop the subject, Sophia seems intent on keeping it rolling. “I just don't get it, ya know,” she sighs, kicking back in her chair to rest her feet on her station. “This whole abandoning your kid thing? I can't wrap my head around it. I mean, how do you sleep at night when you've done something like that?”
Jared blocks her out fairly easily. He's become adept at ignoring what's going on around him in this place. It's just him and the ink and the client. Has to be, or someone will end up with a seriously fucked up piece of art. Still, it's an uncomfortable nagging in his brain, knowing that they're all still talking about the one thing he just wants to forget.
“You'd be surprised what people are capable of,” Sandy chimes in, sipping from her cup of soup as she leans one trim hip against the counter.
Her black hair, dyed since last night if Jared remembers correctly through his semi-drunken haze, shakes as Sophia moves her head from side to side, an expression of disgust on her dainty features. “No, I know,” she agrees with her friend. “I'm just sayin' . . . It's just . . . it's not right.”
Just as he's about to let them all know where they can stick this stupid conversation, Chad proves exactly why he's Jared's best friend. Forever.
“MY GOD!” he exclaims from his chair in the corner. “Can we please stop with this bull shit? It is too fucking early in the goddamn morning to contemplate social injustice! Jesus Christ!” Nobody bothers to point out that it's nearly noon. For Chad, anything before three is too fucking early in the goddamn morning.
The girls look like they're about to tell him just where he can stick his bad mood, though, when Jared clears his throat and looks up from the impressionist art book in front of him. “Don't you guys have something to do?”
“Like what?” Genevieve asks, her tone leading as though she's just begging Jared to take part in this conversation.
Rolling his eyes, Jared refuses the bait. “Like whatever the hell it is that I pay you for?”
But Sophia just clucks her tongue and shakes her hair again. “Relax,” she commands with a wave of her hand, and Jared kind of wishes it was just that easy to do so. “This work we do? It's very serious. It requires serious mental preparation. So we're, ya know . . . prepping.”
He can't really help the snort that escapes through his nose at that. “Preppin' my ass,” he mutters under his breath.
“Think that's Jen's job,” Chad points out as he gulps down another long swallow of coffee to a feminine chorus of groans and eye rolls.
Jared just flashes his friend a smile. “Cute,” he says, though it's more than just a word. It's a silent thanks to the kid who always knows him well enough to know when a conversation needs to just die and get buried as fucking deep as it possibly can.
Chapter 3
Author:
raeschae Rating: Hard R/NC-17(?) (I don't know – I guess it depends on your sensibilities)
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Chad, Sophia, Sandy, Genevieve (My list of characters will always be those featured in the chapter – suffice it to say pretty much everyone's in the story at some point or another.)
Summary: Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.
Warnings: This story is NOT an Mpreg. (I know that's kind of an anti-warning, but I wanna make sure that the graphic, especially, is not misleading to anyone.)
Word Count: 6000 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own any human beings at present time. If I do, at some point, acquire one of the individuals mentioned here, you'll be the first to know.
A/N: Thanks, guys, for the overwhelming response to chapter one. I was kind of scared, in that new kid kind of way, that everybody was going to think 'who's this crazy new chick?' Your support is awesome! So thanks!
Graphic under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
Jared's not such a fan of being watched. It happens a lot, being as he spends a not-small-portion of the time hanging out with rock stars and actors. And being as he's about twelve feet tall, and covered in tattoos. But it's still weird because, really, he's just a kid from San Antonio who happens to be artistic. And that talent has led him down a road he never imagined, and he's just kind of following the path, wherever it leads him. He knows that people stare at him, unsure of who he is most of the time, and sometimes of what he is. He gets it. Hell, sometimes he craves it. It's just that he just doesn't really like it.
Except when it's Jensen watching him. That he could live with for the rest of his natural life, he's pretty sure. His life has never really been stable, sometimes by chance and sometimes by Jared's own design, but Jensen? Jensen's the anchor that tethers him to the world at large, the one thing that makes the uncertain kid from Texas feel like he's found a safe place to just . . . be.
Rolling his head without opening his eyes, he mumbles, “Time is it?” to the man he doesn't have to see to know is watching him.
“Nine twenty-three,” Jensen answers without missing a beat, the pads of his fingers brushing over Jared's cheek as he chases stray hairs back from his cheek.
Jensen hates mornings. Maybe more than anyone Jared's ever met. Hates the sun for rising. Hates opening his eyes. Hates rolling out of bed. Jared's pretty sure, if daylight could be punched in the neck, Jensen would do it. It's actually a fairly rare occasion when he's coherent before Jared in the morning.
His tongue travels over his sleep-dried lips and Jared leans his face further into the contact, arm tightening around Jensen's back. He wonders, not for the first time, why Jensen's the only person who's ever been able to fall asleep on Jared's arm without his arm falling asleep right back. With anyone else, it's always been uncomfortable to waken all tangled up like this, but with Jensen? It's never bothered him. If he believed in shit like karma and signs and destiny, he'd think it means something. As it is, he's resigned it to one of the mysteries of the universe that's never actually meant to be solved.
As much as Jensen hates mornings, Jared's always kind of loved them. He's not rolling out of bed at five thirty or anything – usually because he hasn't even dropped into bed by then – but he likes the quiet that comes with the start of the day. Usually, Jensen's asleep, and the lights are out, and Jared can brew coffee and sit on the bedroom balcony, and enjoy the feeling of the day waking up with him.
This morning, though, he's exhausted. Heavy limbs, aching muscles, and the faintest hint of a headache around the corners of his brain. Jumping from drunk, to emotional, to completely fucked-out kind of took it's toll on Jared, and he's pretty sure he'd like to just stay in the bed all day. No clients, no interruptions. Just warm sheets under his back, warm sun through the window, and warm skin draped over him. Jensen's not usually hard to convince for days like this.
“TJ,” he mutters, and it's so soft he thinks maybe he just thought it in his head, instead of actually saying it out loud.
“When?” Jensen counters and Jared kind of loves the way he doesn't have to use full sentences for Jensen to understand him. He'd given up on the kind of relationship they have long before he ever met this graphic designer from Dallas, but something in his chest just fucking knew the day Jensen walked into his shop with Chris that it was something. Didn't know what yet, but it was something.
“Tonight,” Jared answers, limbs still refusing to move, even when Jensen dips his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the top of Jared's bicep. He's always kissing Jared in weird places, and Jared's never really been one to complain. It feels more intimate, like it's just something they do. Nobody else gets it, and he likes that about it.
“Kay,” Jensen agrees easily, moving his kisses to the underside of Jared's bare arm. It tickles when his morning stubble brushes the sensitive skin, but he's too drained to flinch or pull away.
Yesterday was just too much, with the emotions and all of the bull shit that Jared didn't want to think about. Still doesn't want to think about. Hence the TJ suggestion. Even though he knows damn well Jensen gets it, understands exactly what it means, Jared needs to get away. Needs to escape for a little bit. Bring himself back to center. The bungalow that they bought on the beach in Tijuana last year is the perfect place. Mexican heat, sandy beaches, and naked Jensen. Jared's pretty sure there's nothing else he needs in the world as much as he needs that right now.
The blasted ringing of a cell phone interrupts their quiet moment, and Jared begins an internal planning about how many appointments he has today and how he can shift them around when Jensen reaches to answer it. Tomorrow's pretty much clear, if he remembers correctly, and Chad and Sophia can handle the walk-ins. Yeah, they're a man down now that Steve's out on tour, but they can manage without Jared for a day or two. He's pretty sure he won't be much good anyway, if he doesn't get some relaxation.
When Jared finally pulls himself out of his head, finally drags his eyes open, Jensen is sitting beside him, leaned against the headboard, staring at nothing and nodding his head in concentration. And he's naked. Which is pretty much all the invitation Jared needs to roll onto his stomach, drag himself over Jensen's thigh, and reach out to grip the base of his boyfriend's half-hard cock.
Jensen's jade eyes fly wide open at the contact and he shakes his head furiously when Jared looks up to meet his eye. Don't, he mouths, but Jared doesn't listen. Jared never listens. Just continues studying Jensen's beautiful face with a wicked gleam in his eye as his tongue darts out to drag over the quickly hardening flesh. So warm. So full against his tongue.
How he has the presence of mind to cover the mouthpiece of his receiver before he moans, Jared doesn't know, but Jensen does it, head thrown back against the wall and eyes squeezed shut as Jared quickens his pace. There'll be time for slow, languid lovemaking, not that either of them will call it that, in Mexico. For now, he wants to see Jensen fall apart in record time.
Not that he will. Fall apart, that is. It's kind of impressive the way he regains his composure while getting head and talking on the phone at the same time. Last week, he was on a conference call with Tom, his business manager, and a couple of big-wigs from Macy's. They've been trying to broker an exclusive deal to sell a line of Jensen's tee shirts nationwide, and while he would never admit it, Jared knew that it was a big deal to his boyfriend. Could tell by the tension in his posture as he paced the length of his home office and spoke in short, clipped sentence to everyone who addressed him.
Wanting nothing more than to be helpful, Jared crossed the office, dropped to his knees, and unzipped Jensen's pants. Same thing as this morning, same wide eyes and mouthed warning, and Jared ignored it then, too. It took Jensen all of five seconds to bite his lip and collect himself, and then he was answering questions as though nothing was happening on the floor beneath his chair. Even when Jared took him deep in the back of his throat, Jensen managed to convey something about maintaining total artistic freedom. He was silent when he came hot against the back of Jared's throat and all the younger man could do was sit back and marvel as he wiped his lips and drew a wink and a fucking pet on the top of his shaggy head from his boyfriend.
Yeah, Jensen's a freak in the bedroom most of the time, turns Jared out in ways nobody else has ever been able to. But when it comes to getting phone head? He's a motherfucking pro, that's what he is. And it probably turns Jared on more than it should. More than you'd think it could, that's for sure.
The blunt fingernails scratching at his skull, and the slight movement of Jensen's hips are the only things that really tip Jared off to his awareness of the situation. Without that, he might think that Jensen didn't even notice Jared's lips around him, or feel his tongue tracing that pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. If he didn't feel Jensen's fingers tighten in his hair as he got closer to completion, Jared's not sure he would believe that Jensen was really there with him at all.
“So it's just',” Jensen finally speaks, fingers tugging at Jared's hair more insistently as he narrowed his eyes to focus on whatever the caller was saying in his ear. “I don't know, man. Sounds too fuckin' easy, ya know?” He comes, eyes drifting shut for a fraction of a second before he licks his lips and grins at Jared like a million evil thoughts of revenge are running through his head all at one time. “Guess it pays to have friends in high places, huh?” he adds to his conversation, foot traveling up the back of Jared's thigh, toe tracing the crashing ocean wave tattooed there.
Resting his forehead on Jensen's stomach, Jared takes a second to enjoy the feeling. Jensen knows him. Has him memorized. Every design on his body, Jensen can trace without looking. Every ridge of every muscle, his tongue could map blind. He's never met anyone, in all of his twenty-six years, who has ever wanted to take the time to know him the way Jensen knows him. It's unnerving and exhilarating all at one time. Whether it's walking through the door and not having to explain his shitty day because his boyfriend can see from the look on his face that he doesn't want to talk about it, or Jensen telling Danneel to lock up behind her when she closes the store, just because Jared walked through the door of Ollie with a need you right the fuck now expression. Jensen just seems to know.
When he finally clicks his phone shut and drops it onto the bedside table, Jensen clutches Jared's shoulder until their eyes meet through lowered lashes once again. “Get up here,” he chuckles, pressing his lips eagerly to Jared's as he covers Jensen's smaller body with his own. “You're gonna fuckin' kill me some day, man,” he laughs.
Jared would apologize, but really? He's not at all sorry. “That was Chris?” he asks, and he's not sure how he knows, but he does. Maybe it's not just Jensen that does the knowing in this relationship.
Nodding, Jensen lets Jared kiss his neck as he relays the information his friend just laid on him. “Big Dave knows some judge in juvie court that granted Chris emergency guardianship this morning. Owed him a favor or somethin', I guess. Just means that, while they search for the kid's family or whatever, Chris has the court's permission to act on his behalf.”
Jared knows what it means, but he doesn't bother pointing that out. Doesn't want to talk about it. “This judge know Chris's bailin' town?” Jensen shrugs, and Jared would maybe wanna smack the stupid out of him, if he wasn't so fucking happy laying right where he is. Sure, it's great that Dave has some family court judge in his back pocket – works out nicely for Chris's conscience or whatever, but it doesn't make the situation any better. Just means that one more person in Brayden's life is taking responsibility for him, and then passin' him off on somebody else so they don't have to do the real work.
For some reason, Chris has decided to be the white knight in this situation, but Jared has a feeling his, and Jensen's, new save the world mentality is a little too lacking in the actual application of anything resembling reality. Not that he's ever going to be able to convince either of them of that. Not that he's going to try. Not his issue, and he meant what he said when he told Jensen that he doesn't feel the need to save every foster kid in America.
“Where's he gonna stay, Jen?” he asks, praying that Jensen doesn't take that as some kind of crazy offer. Because really? It's a thousand kinds of wrong for either of them to start thinking they have any business whatsoever taking care of a child. He just hopes Jensen doesn't ask him to list those reasons, because the only ones Jared can come up with at the moment are: 1.) They are going to Mexico tonight. 2.) They haven't called the cleaning lady to stop by in a couple of weeks. And 3.) There is a string of anal beads and a Fleshlight on the kitchen counter. There are more though. He knows there are more.
“Tom's gonna take him,” Jensen says, voice starting to drift away like he can finally rest easy now that he knows the kid's going to be alright. Like everything all better now. Like he doesn't even notice that Jared obviously disagrees.
“Jamie okay with that?” Jared asks of Tom's wife, who Jared thinks deserves a medal for the patience she has in dealing with years of her husband's less-than-discreet indiscretions. Well, a medal or a swift kick in the ass. It's kind of a toss-up.
Jensen shrugs again and his hands leave Jared as he scratches over the tattoo on his left pectoral. The one Jared etched for their anniversary last year. It's a symbol for 'cancer' – his own zodiac sign. He has a 'pisces' one in the same place, for Jensen's sign. He was never supposed to be the guy who tattooed anything having to do with another person anywhere on his body. He was never supposed to be a lot of the things he is with Jensen.
“According to Danneel, they're not speaking right now. I guess her walking in and actually seeing Mike sucking Tom's dick wasn't exactly a welcome visual,” he huffs.
And Jared can't help but pull a face. “Can you blame her?” he asks, rolling off of Jensen and propping himself up on his elbow. “Anybody who lets Rosenbaum anywhere near their dick deserves to get kicked the fuck outta the house.”
Jensen's laughing as he burrows back down into his pillow. He'll relax now that Chris has convinced him that the world isn't going to end. Jensen's like that – pretends to be tough as nails, but where his friends are concerned? His heart is as big as the state he still calls home. They're not mushy, chick-flick kind of guys, but if pressed, Jared would admit that Jensen's fierce loyalty to the people he cares about is probably one of the things he loves the very most about the guy.
Of course, Jensen's technique when his hand closes around Jared's still-hardened shaft is pretty high up on that list, too. It's not that he forgot he hadn't gotten off when Jensen did a few minutes ago, but with all the talk about the kid and whatnot, it didn't really seem like the appropriate time to ask for a return favor. His boy never leaves him hanging, though. It's another constant in the relationship between Jensen and Jared.
“So,” Jensen starts, easy as anything, as though he's not jerking Jared in long, lazy strokes that are about to drive the younger man out of his mind. “TJ tonight, huh?” Jared nods, lip caught between his teeth as he tries to focus. He's not as good at the multi-tasking as Jensen is. “We should take the bike,” Jensen goes on, a rough growl on his lips when Jared's head falls back. “Whatcha think, Jay? You, me, couple thousand CC's rumbling between our thighs?”
“Fuck, Jen,” Jared breathes, unsure of whether it's the words Jensen is saying, or the timber of his deep, smoke-tinged voice that affects him so strongly.
“Yeah?” Jensen leans forward, closes the gap between them, and presses his lips, open and wet, against the column of Jared's exposed throat, teeth raking over the skin just the way Jared loves it. “It's gonna be so good, Jay,” he promises. “Feel you up all the way to TJ, get you all hot and hard for me.”
When Jared risks opening his eyes, Jensen is watching him with heated focus, tongue running over his plump, lower lip. “What . . . when . . . get there,” he tries to engage, but Jensen's got him so close to the edge, he's not sure what he's trying to say. “Jesus Christ, Jensen,” is all he manages to say with any degree of clarity as Jensen begins to thumb the head of his cock in lazy circles, staving off a climax while still heightening his already spiked pleasure.
“What am I gonna do to you when we get there?” he asks the question Jared couldn't seem to spit out and Jared just clenches his eyes tightly and nods, his forehead brushing against his boyfriend's shoulder. “Wanna strip you down on the deck,” he explains. “'Member that railing you built last summer?” Jared's only response is a whimper. “Yeah . . . wanna bend you over that railing, Jay. Start fuckin' you all slow and lazy while the tides roll in.”
He thinks he's going to be able to hold off, to wait until Jensen describes more, but then Jensen changes the rules. He squeezes his fist, tugs firm and hard on Jared's shaft while his lips find that spot behind Jared's ear that drives him insane. “Come on, Jay.” Jensen shifts his hips, their bodies mere inches apart. “Wanna feel you come,” he adds.
Like Jared's going to be able to do anything else?
Heart pounding against his ribs, Jared waits until he can breathe properly before opening his eyes to see Jensen staring down at him. Of all the times he loves being watched by Jensen, this has to be his favorite. The adoration and pure awe that pours from the older man's eyes as he watches Jared shaken completely apart is maybe the most beautiful sight in the world.
“My last appointment should be over by six. Can you . . . “ he trails the word as Jensen dips to kiss him quickly and then rolls to the left to slip out of the bed, the tattoo that Jared chose for their first anniversary low on his left hip. It's probably a pretty cheap gift for a couple of guys who make as much as he and Jensen do, just choosing a design and the placement of a new tat to mark another year together, but it's far more personal than anything Jared can buy in a store, and Jensen seems to appreciate them, so maybe it's not so bad.
“Staff meeting at 4:30, and then I'm out,” Jensen wiggles his eyebrows before heading out of the bedroom and across the hall. When Jared hears the bathroom door close, and the shower start, he breathes deeply and lets his eyes fall shut once again.
A few more minutes, and then he'll get up. Work for a few hours, make sure the crew has everything together at the shop, and then head back to pick Jensen up. A little R&R in TJ and everything will be A-OK once again. Life will be zen and perfect, just like it was before the clock struck midnight and flung everything out of order last night.
Jared met Chad upon arriving in LA, almost immediately. Both drifters in their own right, they gravitated to each other in the way that only a yin and a yang can truly do. When Jared found out that Chad was a pretty wicked graffiti artist, and that he desperately wanted to learn how to tattoo, he'd done his best to give the kid lessons. And when he bought Slinging Ink, it was only natural to start employing the people who's work he knew, and whom he trusted.
When he learned how to tat back in high school, it was just supposed to be an outlet for him. Artistic expression that would give him a place to channel his teenaged angst and anger. It was never really a way out of anything. In fact, if you had told sixteen-year-old Jared that he would some day make a living tattooing rock stars and painting pop art for actors, he would have laughed in your face. Or punched you in the mouth. Dumb luck and a whole lot of chance led him to this place. Not that he's going to sneeze at it or anything.
Chad was at the party that night. The night that kicked everything off for Jared. When some kid at some kegger said he wanted a tat, Jared offered to do it for him. He had a few basic supplies in the back of his truck, and he set up at the kitchen table. Totally illegal and probably slightly unsanitary, but the result was pretty fucking incredible, especially given his limited resources.
That kid turned out to be the younger brother of some bass player in one of those punk/pop bands that all sound exactly the same as every other band on the charts right now. Big brother was Jared's next client, and then the rest of his band. By the end of the summer, he's pretty sure he inked up the whole of the Warped Tour, instructing Chad every step of the way.
Growing up as Jared did, he doesn't spend a lot of money frivolously. In fact, if he and Jensen fight over anything, it's the fact that Jensen can't save a dime to save his life, and Jared would rather hold on to his cash with both hands than ever let it go on something he doesn't need. Jensen's theory is that money is worthless if it's just sitting in a bank with no purpose. Jared's philosophy veers more toward the belief that you never know when you may hit a patch of bad luck and find yourself living out of your car. Back up is very important.
It was his frugal way of saving cash that allowed him to buy Slinging Ink at the age of twenty-one. When he was hired on, at nineteen, the owner was working by himself and garnering little-to-no business. Jared brought his small base of high”ish”-profile clientele and turned revenue around, but it wasn't enough to keep the previous owner interested in running a place that he was clearly no longer in charge of. So he offered it to Jared. And Jared paid generously to start his own business before most kids his age were even out of college.
He brought Chad in for a couple of reasons. One, he's Jared's best friend. What twenty-one-year-old kid doesn't want to work every day with his best friend? And two, his background in graffiti and airbrushing make him one hell of a script artist. He can handle basic design as well as Jared can, and he manages to run interference when Jared won't admit that he needs a break. Chad's employee of the month, every month, and nobody really questions it. Mostly because Chad's the only one who refers to himself as such, but still . . . Jared can't disagree.
A few months after joining up with Jared, Chad asked if he could bring his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Sophia on board. When Jared saw her portfolio, he hired her without hesitation. She is, bar none, the best portrait artist he's ever met. Kat Von D has nothing on Sophia Bush, as far as Jared's concerned.
Almost a year after they opened, Jared ran into Steve at music festival. Somehow, talk turned to the rising reputation Jared was building for himself, and how Steve would love to rent some space and set up shop at Jared's place part-time, if the kid didn't have a problem with it. He's not technically an employee, being as he pays rent and sets his own hours, but he's just as much a part of the team as anyone now. His expertise lies in nature – birds, fish, flowers, etc. - and it's only fitting, seeing as he belongs on a beach in Hawaii somewhere, sipping Corona with his feet tucked in the white sands while he strums some hapless melody on his beat-up old guitar.
After that, it became pretty obvious that they would need some help keeping things organized, so Jared called a temp-to-hire agency for a part-time receptionist. Sandy McCoy was an aspiring actress back then. Now she's Jared's full-time business manager, and he has to admit that thing runs smoother with her at the helm than they ever did when he was trying to keep it all in order.
“Gen,” he nods toward the newest member of their team, a tiny brunette named Genevieve who's been a loyal customer since Jared took her ink virginity three years ago. She answers phones, sets up appointments, and most importantly, makes coffee and lunch runs when things get a little too crazy inside the shop. She's been a Godsend, really, and the fact that she greets him every day with a smile and a caramel machiatto from the coffee place down the boardwalk doesn't hurt her standing with her boss one bit.
“Hey, Jay,” she nods, extending the coffee cup without so much as a glance away from her computer screen. “PCD in twenty minutes. Something little – told her Chad could handle it – but she insisted.” Her mouth pulls into a grimace as she tears her eyes away from the screen. “And Brock called.”
Jared can't help smiling at the way she winces. Everyone in the shop knows that Brock Kelly has been pretty much stalking Jared since they met at a party a few years back. He's nice enough, and he's pretty subtle, but it's still kind of obvious to the entire team that he wants more than Jared's ink on his body every time he comes in for a new piece.
“What's he lookin' for this time?” Jared asks, crossing the room to drop his keys into the drawer at his station. Truth be told, Brock bothers Jensen more than he bothers Jared. The kid's nice enough, and sure as hell easy on the eyes, but Jared barely noticed before Jensen came into his life. Now, Brock's a moot point.
“You want me to answer that honestly?” she asks, eyes glinting in amusement as Jared shakes his head good-naturedly. “Shoulder piece,” is the answer she settles for, swinging around on her bar stool and propping her combat boot-clad feet onto the counter. She twirls a streak of candy-apple hair around her finger and considers it thoughtfully before going on. “I told him that you were booked today, but he said he'd just stop by later and drop the sketch off for you to look over.”
Jared just nods, takes it all in stride. Not much rattles him these days, and he thinks it's probably the reason his team likes working for him so much. “You sure I have a PCD this morning?” he questions her earlier statement once his brain wraps around the schedule for the day. He doesn't remember that being a part of the agenda. Not that he really cares what appointments Genevieve makes without asking him first, just as long as the last ass is out of his chair by six.
Genevieve shrugs her thin shoulders. “I think it's a PCD. One of those lip-syncers who gyrates around with her tits hangin' out,” she answers easily. So easily that it makes Jared laugh.
The Pussycat Dolls have been faithful clients of Jared's for years. Started coming in when Sandy was working with the troupe, and haven't stopped, regardless of the formation, since. He doesn't mind them, but they grate on Genevieve's last nerve. Pretty much any hot chick that would rather pay more attention to Jared than Genevieve grates on her nerves, though.
“Kimberly,” Sandy supplies the name as she steps out of the back room, a steaming bowl of microwaved soup in her hand. “What's with this text you sent me this morning?” She holds up her blackberry, as though Jared forgot sending her a message.
“Headin' down TJ way tonight,” he explains as he checks his ink wells and makes sure that his glove supply is ample for the day. Not that he should doubt that it will be – Sandy takes good care of him. “Chad and Soph are gonna handle walk-ins, but make sure that anybody who asks knows I'll be back on Thursday,” he instructs.
“TJ, huh?” Sophia's smokey voice filters into the room just before she does, also carrying a Cup o' Noodles in her hands. “I want a night in Mexico with my hotter-than-fuck-all boyfriend,” she fakes a pout and then smiles when Jared winks his greeting in her direction.
Genevieve snorts and goes back to her computer screen. “Too bad the only boyfriend you have is Chad then.”
The girls laugh, and as if summoned, Chad comes blowing through the door in a leather jacket and aviator sunglasses. In Los Angeles. In early September. “What's funny?” he asks as he cuts through to the back of the studio, stopping to drop a kiss on Sophia's head as he goes.
“You,” Sophia answers innocently, sipping at her cup.
He just grunts and dumps the jacket, keeps the sunglasses, and sinks into his chair. “There coffee?” he asks.
They all know he drank way too much last night – were all at Chris's to witness it – and that he'll be an ass most of the morning. Chad doesn't do 'hungover' very well at all.
“Here,” Genevieve grins brightly, hopping off her stool to deliver his drink. She's not Chad's biggest fan, but she's chipper as anything when he's like this. Mostly to piss him off, Jared thinks. When Chad reaches for the cup, Genevieve holds it out of his reach and her smile brightens. “Only if you say please.”
“What if I say I'll punch you in your throat if you don't hand it over right the fuck now?” Chad manages with a fake smile that stretches ear to ear.
Genevieve is actually the one who does the punching, hard into Chad's right should as he reaches out to take the coffee she's offering. He scowls, but says nothing, as he sinks back further into his chair and cradles his cup with both hands.
“So what's the deal with this kid Lindsay dropped off after we left?” Sandy asks when everyone's kind of settled in for the morning.
Jared's back stiffens at the mention. He really needs that night away. Like now. “Fuck if I know,” he answers, massive shoulders shrugging as he tries to play it cool. “Her ex left his kid with her and took off. Some judge Dave knows granted Chris ETG and he's gonna stay with Tommy until Chris can figure out what to do with him, I think,” he explains as quickly as he can, hoping that's going to be the end of the discussion. He'd be happy never to think about it again, actually.
“What's ETG?” Genevieve asks innocently, back at her computer. Jared's pretty sure she spends most of her day chatting with gamers and Sci-Fi movie fans online, but she does her job and that's really the only thing that matters to him. She can stare at the screen all day as long as he doesn't have to answer the phone and schedule his own appointments.
“Emergency Temporary Guardianship,” Sophia explains before Jared has to. “That's fuckin' quick, Jay. I mean, it's been, what? Twelve hours?” Jared just shrugs again and bends his knees to lean against his station. “I don't know, man. Is that even right? Can they do that? Legally?”
Again, Jared shrugs. He's seen stranger things in his lifetime. And he knows, from experiences he doesn't really want to talk about, that certain judges can be easily convinced to come down on any given side, regardless of what the law, and a medical report from a board-certified surgeon, says. He has no doubt that legally, Chris is Brayden's guardian for the time being. He also knows that he's gonna have a hard time staying that way if anybody bothers to ask a few questions and find out that he's not actually the one caring for the kid.
“Dani said the kid looked skittish as a bunny last night,” Sophia goes on. She befriended Danneel quickly, almost immediately upon meeting her at the first joint party of the Slinging Ink crew, and Jensen's Ollie kids. The fact that the red-head has already filled Sophia in on everything from last night isn't surprising. Just annoying.
“Looked like a kid,” is his only response because, really? He wasn't paying that much attention when Brayden showed up last night. He basically went from the back door to the bathroom to the living room. It's not like they had a lengthy chat. And he doesn't make a habit of staring at twelve-year-old boys.
But as much as he wants to drop the subject, Sophia seems intent on keeping it rolling. “I just don't get it, ya know,” she sighs, kicking back in her chair to rest her feet on her station. “This whole abandoning your kid thing? I can't wrap my head around it. I mean, how do you sleep at night when you've done something like that?”
Jared blocks her out fairly easily. He's become adept at ignoring what's going on around him in this place. It's just him and the ink and the client. Has to be, or someone will end up with a seriously fucked up piece of art. Still, it's an uncomfortable nagging in his brain, knowing that they're all still talking about the one thing he just wants to forget.
“You'd be surprised what people are capable of,” Sandy chimes in, sipping from her cup of soup as she leans one trim hip against the counter.
Her black hair, dyed since last night if Jared remembers correctly through his semi-drunken haze, shakes as Sophia moves her head from side to side, an expression of disgust on her dainty features. “No, I know,” she agrees with her friend. “I'm just sayin' . . . It's just . . . it's not right.”
Just as he's about to let them all know where they can stick this stupid conversation, Chad proves exactly why he's Jared's best friend. Forever.
“MY GOD!” he exclaims from his chair in the corner. “Can we please stop with this bull shit? It is too fucking early in the goddamn morning to contemplate social injustice! Jesus Christ!” Nobody bothers to point out that it's nearly noon. For Chad, anything before three is too fucking early in the goddamn morning.
The girls look like they're about to tell him just where he can stick his bad mood, though, when Jared clears his throat and looks up from the impressionist art book in front of him. “Don't you guys have something to do?”
“Like what?” Genevieve asks, her tone leading as though she's just begging Jared to take part in this conversation.
Rolling his eyes, Jared refuses the bait. “Like whatever the hell it is that I pay you for?”
But Sophia just clucks her tongue and shakes her hair again. “Relax,” she commands with a wave of her hand, and Jared kind of wishes it was just that easy to do so. “This work we do? It's very serious. It requires serious mental preparation. So we're, ya know . . . prepping.”
He can't really help the snort that escapes through his nose at that. “Preppin' my ass,” he mutters under his breath.
“Think that's Jen's job,” Chad points out as he gulps down another long swallow of coffee to a feminine chorus of groans and eye rolls.
Jared just flashes his friend a smile. “Cute,” he says, though it's more than just a word. It's a silent thanks to the kid who always knows him well enough to know when a conversation needs to just die and get buried as fucking deep as it possibly can.
Chapter 3
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Date: 2009-09-18 03:12 am (UTC)Even better than the last chapter! More please? XD
♥ Maria ♥
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Date: 2009-09-18 03:19 am (UTC)Thanks, though! It's awesome to hear from someone so fast, and I'm so glad you're still with me . . . Chapter 3 will be ready for your reading pleasure tomorrow, if all goes according to plan! :)
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Date: 2009-09-18 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 06:16 am (UTC)I totally in love with this story. I have a thing for tatts and, obviously, a thing for J2.
Put 'em together and I get the awesomeness that is your fic, loves it!
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Date: 2009-09-18 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 06:20 am (UTC)I am really Loving this fic...
more please.. ^_^
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Date: 2009-09-18 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 06:20 am (UTC)...and ya gotta love tattoo guys!! lol
Can't wait for more!!
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Date: 2009-09-18 01:21 pm (UTC)Anyway, thanks for the comment, and I'm right there with ya. I love this relationship, too!
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Date: 2009-09-18 06:21 am (UTC)Stoicduingblowjobs!Jensen is probably my favorite jensen of all.
And I love that the whole gang's here!
And I need a tattooed boys icon, stat. :D
And oh CHAD. Love him.
Can't wait to read more! It's fantastic so far, sweetie!
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Date: 2009-09-18 01:22 pm (UTC)I actually have a tattooed version of Chad that I did for visual aid with writing the story - I'll see what I can do about morphing it into an icon for ya. :)
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Date: 2009-09-18 09:55 pm (UTC)Oh tattooed boys... I was actually thinking of getting one, and much more of this fic and I may be completely sold. :D
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Date: 2009-09-20 01:16 am (UTC)<------------
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Date: 2009-09-20 02:24 am (UTC)I love it! Yay, thank you so much!
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Date: 2009-09-20 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 04:39 pm (UTC)And I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter - once I finished this story, I couldn't figure out if I liked the stuff with Brayden and all the guys' friends more, or if I liked the relationship between the J's more . . . I'll let you decide for yourself, but I know which it is for me. :)
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Date: 2009-09-18 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-19 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-19 12:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-19 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 03:10 am (UTC)I know I've already read this whole story (and so I won't spoil for anyone) but...I just can't help it. I LOVE IT! This story really is just so much freakin'fantastic...the way the boys interract, the tats ('cause let's face it...the tats are HOT!) And this was a pretty cool "origin" story of sorts..how they got to where they are. Love the set up and this world you've created, sweety! Keep 'em comin'!
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Date: 2009-09-20 04:10 am (UTC)Seriously, thank you! It means the world to me that you like the story and that you believe in the world I'm creating here!
And the tats certainly don't hurt, do they? Mmm . . . love me some inked up hotties.
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Date: 2010-03-29 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-29 01:30 am (UTC)