raeschae | Day Dream Come True, 1/1, NC-17, Jared/Jensen (For Kiwiana)

Title: Day Dream Come True
Author:

raeschae
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3300

Summary: Jared dreams of some day seeing his name in lights on a Broadway marquis. While he's waiting, he works as a stage hand, fantasizes about his big break, and fosters a crush he doesn't even know he has on the show's star, Jensen.

A/N: For kiwiana, who responded to my cry for prompts earlier this week with two simple words: public sex. The boys wanted to tell a little more of a story, so I hope that's okay with you, babe! Enjoy!

When he was a kid, growing up in Texas and dreaming of a life under the bright lights of the Great White Way, this wasn't exactly what Jared had in mind. But after three years in New York, countless auditions, and subsequent rejections, he's kind of gotten used to being a stage hand. Oh, he still imagines and dreams and hopes that the right part will come along at the right time and he'll get his moment in the spotlight. He just does it while he moves set pieces and directs backstage traffic, and supervises scripts in the shadowed wings of the August Wilson Theater.

Jared likes musicals, but they're not really his performing strength, so working with the crew of Jersey Boys wasn't his first choice. It hasn't been a bad experience or anything, but it doesn't really play into his fantasy:

He's standing in the wings, hurriedly directing the cast to their start positions behind the heavy curtain, doing his job like the stand-out stage hand that he is, of course. Suddenly, a hand grips his bicep and the director tells him that the star of the show has the swine flu, and his understudy got hit by a bus or something on the way to the theater. It doesn't matter, really. All that matters is that the show has to go on, and there is a huge crowd of anxious fans and the business's harshest, and most respected, critics out there waiting. The director is distraught, and the only thing Jared can do to save the day is throw his headset off, run to wardrobe, and slide into the starring role, blowing everyone away with his subtle and nuanced performance.

Articles are written, producers are beside themselves, and Jared is the greatest 'rags-to-riches' story Broadway has ever seen. He's a hero, and all of the casting directors that have passed on him until now will be stumbling over themselves to score him for their next big show. When he wins his Tony, he thanks his mom and dad for always believing in him, the members of the crew for teaching him to appreciate the tireless and thankless work that they do, and he almost cries when he talks about the struggles of living in a shoebox of an apartment and dreaming of the day when this moment would come.

“Daydreaming again, Padalecki?” a sardonic voice sounds behind him and Jared whips around, nearly taking on of the stars of the show, Tom, out with the handle of a broom. It might be funny, but being as Jared can't sing to save his life, he's incapable of saving this show at the last minute.

“Leave him alone, Welling.” Also, there's only one Frankie Valli in Jersey Boys, and even if Jared had the chops to fill in for the mysteriously-unconscious Tom Welling? He'd never be able to steal the spotlight away from Jensen Ackles. “Hey, Jared. How's it goin'?”

Truth is, Jared doesn't want to. Because Jensen's not just the best vocalist he's ever met, he's got the stage presence and the acting stones to back it all up. He's a true star, and quite possibly the nicest person Jared has ever met. It's hard to wish swine flu or sudden coma on someone with a smile like Jensen's.

“I'm good, man. How are you?”

Tom snorts and walks off, but Jared isn't so much paying attention anymore because Jensen is watching him with narrowed eyes and opening his mouth to speak again.

“How long we known each other, Jared?” When Jared shrugs (it's been five months, three weeks, and four days since rehearsals started and Jared noticed him for the first time, but it's not like he can say that), Jensen nods his head and folds his arms over his chest, like he's considering a difficult math problem or something. “You ever gonna ask me out? Or am I gonna have to, like, blow you right here to show you that I'm interested?”

The sound that comes out of his mouth is not attractive, or worth being remotely proud of. “I, uh,” he stammers and shakes his head, eyes blinking. He's not inexperienced, or shy around guys. Or girls. Or anyone else that might not fit into one of those categories. But Jensen is like brain Novocaine or something, and Jared just can't get anything to come out of his mouth.

Undeterred, or possibly encouraged, by Jared's temporary paralysis, Jensen steps into his personal space and rests a hand low on his hip, eyes zeroed in on Jared's mouth. “Have dinner with me tonight. After the show.”

His hand drifts to Jared's belt and his lips trail, open and hot, over his jaw. “Yeah,” Jared agrees, but he's not sure if he's saying 'yes' to dinner, or the fact that it takes Jensen less than ten seconds to get his belt open.

“Yeah?” Jensen growls against his ear and Jared slumps against the wall, thankful that it's close enough and that he didn't ruin this perfect moment by falling flat on his ass.

The roll of his hips in the direction of Jensen's hand isn't really what he'd consider his smoothest move, but it's less obvious than the way his head falls back and exposes the column of his throat to the teeth now raking over his skin.

“Jenny, we're gonna run through . . . oh.”

Jared jolts, and tries to convince himself that it's absolutely not the hottest thing he's ever seen when Jensen grips his hip tighter and turns only his head away when he addresses his co-star. “Be there in a minute, Rosie.”

“Sure thing.”

They're alone again, and the weight of what is happening starts to set in for Jared. It's impossible to put space between himself and Jensen, being as he's backed up to the wall, but he's at work. And as much as he loves to indulge his daydreaming fantasies, he does know the difference between them and actual reality.

“I better get back to work,” he mumbles.

Jensen's smile is wide and lazy. “Yeah. I'll see you after the show, Jared,” he winks and pushes off with another squeeze of Jared's hip.

He walks away without a glance back, and Jared can't help wondering how in the hell someone just does that. It's not like Jared hasn't been crushing on Jensen hard for months, but they don't really flirt that much or anything. Unless you count staring at each other, sharing private smiles, and casual touches when they pass in the halls “flirting.”

Sure, he's noticed Jensen watching his mouth and licking his own lips while they talk sometimes, but maybe he does that with everyone? And, yeah, Jared hugs him after every show, holds him close and possibly runs a hand up and down the back of Jensen's back when he whispers 'congratulations' against his ear, but he's almost sure he hasn't been sending signals or anything. He's too intimidated by Jensen's greatness on the stage, and the awesome guy that he is off the stage, to really try to seduce him or anything.

“Oh, honey,” Genevieve shakes her head sadly when Jared tells her about the “incident” during the first act. “Everybody in this damn theater knows you been droolin' over each other for months.” She chuckles and lifts an apple box with both hands. “Tell you the truth, we thought you were already fuckin'.”

“Oh come on. I'm not that oblivious,” Jared insists. “I would know it if a guy was hitting on me.”

Genevieve just arches an eyebrow.

“I knew it when he was licking my neck!” Well, maybe it's not the best defense.

Hyper-aware, Jared spends the rest of the night paying extra attention to the way Jensen winks at him between scenes, and brushes against him when he comes off stage at intermission. He catches his fingers dragging against Jensen's hand when he gives him a microphone during the third act. He can't help noticing the smack Jensen aims at his ass before running out to take his curtain call.

None of it is unusual. It's nothing they haven't done every night for the last few months.

“Holy shit,” he shakes his head when the house lights come back up and the audience starts to move toward the exits. “Jensen's totally been flirting with me. And I've been flirting back!”

Genevieve rolls her eyes and heads off to wherever she goes after the shows.

Jared's not really paying attention to her, though. He's a little distracted by the way Jensen is moving toward him, laughing at something that Chris is saying, eyes locked on Jared and twinkling.

When Jared holds his arms wide in the midst of the chaos and Jensen presses up against his chest, he hears himself say, “I can't believe I didn't notice.”

Jensen chuckles and pulls back, shaking his head. “Neither can I,” he winks, hand drifting low on Jared's back. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower and wash this shit off my face and we'll head out, okay?”

Nodding, Jared watches him walk away again and kicks himself for the time he's already wasted being completely fucking blind.

When Jared's big break comes, it's off-Broadway, starring in The Little Dog Laughed as an actor on the brink of superstardom, if his agent can figure out how to keep his gay ass in the closet. The script is strong, and the part is so right for him. Jared kind of felt like he had to get the part when he read for it. Having a Tony-award winning boyfriend to run lines with before the audition probably didn't hurt, either.

Whatever the reason, Jared's going to open his first show tonight, and it's a little more surreal than he thought it would be. He's been in the theater for weeks, rehearsing and living as Mitchell Green, and he figures he should probably be used to it by now. But when the curtain goes up in a little more than six hours, he's not going to be standing here in the wings, dreaming, anymore. He's going to be out there, on the stage, under the lights, making it.

Fuckin' hell.

“Daydreaming again, Padalecki?”

His lips curl into a lazy smile as he turns his head to see Jensen moving toward him. He's in rehearsals to be the next Billy Flynn in Chicago, but he managed to clear his schedule for the day so he could be front row, center when his boyfriend makes his big debut.

“I've wanted this for so long, Jensen,” Jared hears himself as strong arms circle his waist and Jensen rests his chin between Jared's shoulder blades. “I don't even know what I'm thinking right now,” he admits.

He can hear voices in the theater, crew members making last minute adjustments on the stage for the big night. There's anxiety and anticipation hanging thick in the air and he can't remember the last time something meant so damn much to him. His parents flew in last night, and his little sister's flight should be here later this afternoon.

“You're thinking you wanna come here,” Jensen growls, grabbing Jared's hand and dragging him down the hall.

For a minute, he thinks they're going to make a break for it out the emergency exit, but Jensen stops short and shoves him back against the wall instead. Out of the wings, but in plain view of anyone who may have forgotten something in the hallway.

With Jensen working on a new show, and Jared gearing up for the opening of this one, they haven't had a lot of time together lately. He tells himself that it's okay. They worked for another two months together on Jersey Boys before Jensen's run ended and he decided to take a little break in order to do a few guest spots on television crime dramas and look for another part he really wanted.

Jared used to tell him that they were going to get sick of each other with all the time they spent together in the beginning. But Jensen would just smile against his skin and shake his head. “Gotta save it up, Jared. When you're a superstar, when we're both working, we're not gonna get to do this much.”

It was as awesome a fantasy as any Jared had ever come up with on his own, but he didn't really understand then what Jensen was saying. Partially because he never let his dreams be that real, afraid that he would somehow chase them off if he wanted them too much. And partially because Jensen usually said it right before he fucked hard into Jared and his brain was pretty useless for any other functioning.

“What are you doing?” Jared laughs when Jensen holds his hip tight and sucks lightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. It's so reminiscent of the first time Jensen asked him to dinner.

“There's no way you don't know that,” Jensen says as his fingers work effortlessly to pop the top button on Jared's jeans. “Even you're not that clueless.”

“Jensen, someone could come back here,” he hisses through clenched teeth. The first time he tried this, Jensen was just making sure that Jared knew he was interested. This time, his intentions seem a little less innocent.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jensen runs his tongue over his bottom lip and nods. “I know,” he grins so dark and dirty that Jared's sure his knees are going to buckle.

“Jensen,” Jared starts to protest again, but then Jensen's hand plunges into his open jeans. “Fuck, man.”

“Relax.” His hand strokes lazily up and down as he pushes Jared's tee shirt up with one hand and gracefully drops to his knees. “Be quiet and I'll make it quick.”

His fingers tangle in Jensen's hair. If one of the producers, or the director, or one of his costars walks back here right now, if they see him with his pants around his knees with his boyfriend's mouth stretched wide around his . . . oh, fuckin' hell, Jensen's lips are stretched red and wide around his cock. How's he supposed to worry about getting caught when his eyes can't stop staring at that?

His tongue runs lazy stripes and circles around Jared, eyes gleaming with pure deviant amusement as he looks up through those too-long-to-be-masculine lashes. When he pulls off and wraps his fist around Jared's throbbing dick, he smiles so bright is almost knocks Jared out. “You have any idea how long I've been wantin' this, Jared?”

“What?”

“This,” his eyes dart from Jared's face to the hard cock in his hand, “Here. Fuck, been dyin' to do this for so long.” The way he stares, mesmerized, at the slip of Jared against the palm of his hand is so much hotter than it has any right to be. “Since I met you. Wanted to fuck you in the hall since I met you,” he goes on. “Right here, where anybody could see it. Wanted 'em to.” He dips his head to lick over the beaded precome and his eyes fall shut for a second. “Wanted 'em all to know how bad I want this cock.” He trails the point of his tongue around the head again and then flicks his glance up to Jared's face. “Wanted you to know.”

“Fuck, Jensen,” Jared sighs, fingers flexing against Jensen's scalp. “Just fuckin' do it.”

He doesn't need anymore prompting, sealing his lips and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks Jared as far back as he possibly can. A vacuum of wet heat surrounds him and Jared's pretty sure he could drown in it. Splayed against the theater wall, one hand lazy on the back of Jensen's head and the other covering Jensen's hand against his hip, fingers laced together. His head falls back and it doesn't matter where they are or who's around.

Jensen's words play in his head, “Wanted 'em all to know how bad I wanted this.” For once, he kind of hopes someone does find them like this.

“Jesus,” he yelps and clears his throat when Jensen squeezes his hip, “Christ” he whispers the end of the statement. Jensen's throat is opening around him, and he's had his dick in this mouth a lot over the last six months, but never like this. Whether it's the thought of being caught, or just the jumble of emotions he's been tangled up in today, Jared doesn't know. “God, yeah. Fuck, Jensen,” he tightens his fingers in the short hair at the base of Jensen's neck and rolls his hips forward.

Releasing his hold on Jared's cock, Jensen braces his hand against his thigh and looks up. When their eyes lock, Jensen barely nods.

There's no way in hell this is going to last long, so Jared holds the back of Jensen's head loosely with both hands and fucks into his mouth, eyes never breaking contact. There are so many things he wants to say, about how fucking good it feels, how much he loves seeing Jensen like this, all slutty and hungry for Jared's cock. Wants to ask if he likes it like this, if he wants more, if he can take it.

He's pretty sure he won't be able to control his own volume if he opens his mouth, so Jared bites hard on his bottom lip, squeezes his eyes shut, takes his fingers off Jensen's head ,and smacks his hand against the concrete wall at his back. Jensen is swallowing around him, drinking every drop that Jared has to give, and he fucking wishes they were at home where he could properly express just how goddamn perfect Jensen really is.

Before he has time to realize that he's finished, Jensen is on him again, body pressed tight against Jared's, tongue rolling and sliding with his, tasting like come mixed with a faint hint of cigarettes and those damned cinnamon disks he always sucks on before a show. He's rutting hard and wet against the cut of Jared's hip and moaning like a cheap whore into his mouth.

It only takes a few firm strokes for his back to bow toward Jared, spilling over his fingers. “Goddamn,” he breathes in a rush as he collapses forward.

Jared holds on until he's sure they're both able to stand on their own and when Jensen looks at him again, they both laugh. “You got come on my jeans,” Jared nods toward his waist.

With a shrug, Jensen kisses him again. “Put another pair in your dressing room.”

“You planned this!”

“Well, yeah,” Jensen admits unabashedly. “Lord knows the hints and the implications are never gonna work with you. It's, like, my ultimate fantasy, man.”

They walk, hand-in-hand, to Jared's dressing room and he pulls up short just outside the door. “We have to take my family to dinner after the show tonight,” he reminds Jensen, who just nods. “But when I get you home? I'm gonna show you one of my favorite fantasies.”

“What is it?” Jensen's still smiling when he follows Jared into the small room where his jeans rest on the vanity counter.

“You're Mr. Observant. You figure it out,” he challenges, and yeah, he sounds a little bratty, but he figures Jensen deserves it. For something or other. “I'll tell you this much,” he calls over his shoulder as he buttons his clean pants and shoves his wallet into his messenger bag, “You're gonna get more than your cock sucked.”

Current Mood: mellow
Current Music: Olympic Snowboarding AGAIN