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raeschaeTitle: Disclaimer: We Will Not Be Held Responsible . . . 5/7
Author:raeschae
Rating: R
Characters: Jared, Jensen, OMC, Sophia
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: Still just the language, which is probably a given by now but, ya know, I live life on the safe side. (Uh, er, something like that.)
Word Count: 5500 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone. Especially the J's, who would totally be inked like they are in the graphic if I did. :)
Graphic under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
Eventually, things even out. Jared and Brayden aren't best friends or anything, but at least the kid stops flinching every time Jared walks into a room. And Jared stops waiting for Brayden to snap and try to kill them in their sleep. Jensen's still the middle man, but he thinks it might always be that way.
So, everything considered, they're in a pretty decent place after a week together and Jensen figures they'll, at the very least, survive until Chris gets home. Of course, it's only when things are going well that the shit can truly hit the fan in poetic fashion.
Therefore, it shouldn't surprise him when Jared shoulders his way past a line of customers on a busy Thursday afternoon to rest his hand low on Jensen's back. It shouldn't surprise him when he dips his head and growls, “We gotta go,” with more anxiety than his usual 'we gotta go grab a quickie in the store room' voice.
Shouldn't be, but Jensen's heart rate still accelerates in his chest as he motions Mike over to help Danneel on the floor before following Jared through the store without question. Jared doesn't interrupt his work unless it's important.
“What is going on?” he asks around the lump in his throat.
Outside, stalking back toward his own vehicle, Jared speaks over his shoulder. “You turned your phone off,” like it's the most egregious error on the planet. “You can't just turn your motherfucking phone off, man!”
“Danneel's is on,” Jensen excuses, sliding into the front seat of Jared's car.
“Yeah,” Jared nods, easing the car out of its space. “Except that the kid doesn't live with Danneel, so Chris isn't gonna call her when shit goes down, is he?”
Jensen's not sure if he feels more guilty for turning his phone off, or for not considering that this little emergency situation might have something to do with Brayden sooner. “What happened?” he asks, well-aware the panicky sound in his voice. “Is he okay?”
“Little pissed,” Jared answers, resting his elbow in the open window as he accelerates onto the freeway. “But that's kinda par for the course with Chris,” he adds, eyes flitting over his left shoulder as he switches lanes.
Smacking him in the arm, Jensen grits his teeth. Leave it to Jared to be a smart ass when the situation could be serious. “I meant Brayden,” he clarifies with a roll of his eyes.
And Jared just looks amused. “Oh, now you're concerned?”
“Fuck you,” Jensen snaps, body twisting in the seat to easily face the man at his side. There are times when that profile takes his breath away. And times when he wants to knock the nose right off of Jared's face. “You have any idea how much pressure Tom's got me under right now? This Macy's line has to be done in two weeks, Jay. Business is picking up at the store and Danneel's having trouble handling it all on her own, so I'm tryin' to pitch in and help, but it's kinda runnin' me over right now.”
“You want me to cry for you?” Jared asks, sympathetic as a lover should be at just the right moments.
“I want you to stop bein' an ass for thirty seconds,” Jensen shoots back, annoyed and tense. “Just tell me where the fuck we're goin',” he sulks, sinking back into his seat and staring out the passenger side window.
“Kid got in a fight. School called Chris, but they won't release him 'til an adult shows up to get him,” is the only explanation Jensen gets.
“He start the fight?” Jensen asks.
Jared huffs and rolls his eyes, turning down a residential, tree-lined street that neither of them have really ever been on, if Jensen remembers correctly. “Fuck if I know what the hell happened, man.”
Jared's car is kind of irritatingly ostentatious. Bright red. Sleek and brand new. Convertible. It kind of screams 'I'm an asshole with money and you're not – na na na na na!' Jensen thinks, but it took a whole lot of seduction to convince Jared that something he wanted wasn't a collosal waste of money. Of course, in the parking lot of Truman Middle School? It's about a thousand times more conspicuous than down at the pier.
“Ya know, you coulda just done this yourself,” he points out as they climb out of the car and Jared locks the doors. Of the convertible. With the top down. Genius. Jensen knows he's being a bitch, that he's in a bad mood, but he has so much to do and Jared's not helping by dragging him away for some stupid shit he could have taken care of on his own.
“Oh, no,” Jared laughs and shakes his head, stuffing his keys into the pocket of his baggy jeans. “You're the one that gave that hearty 'we're in this together' speech the other night.”
Pouting, Jensen follows Jared through the parking lot and toward the double glass doors. “Bastard,” he grumbles under his breath. The reflection of Jared's grin in the doors is kind of like seeing sunlight reflected off the Pacific on a bright day. He smiles a little just at the sight of it.
Because really? If they're getting called into the principal's office? He's not going in without an ally. And there's nobody else in the world that Jensen wants as his partner in crime than Jared, even if he is stressed out and pissed off.
Inside the main office, they're told to take a seat and that the principal will be with them shortly. Jensen asks if they can just wait it out with Brayden, but the elderly secretary just fixes him with a curt stare and shakes her head.
It's not like they're not used to this. Being judged and found wanting by pretty much everyone with a real job and normal wardrobe, but Jensen's a little tense and it takes Jared's hand on his arm, pulling him down into a hard, plastic chair to keep him from telling her just where she can stick her condescending looks.
“Mr. Ackles,” a jovial-looking, middle-aged man in a cheap suit greets from the small hallways behind the secretary's desk. “Mr. Padalecki. Right this way, please,” he motions down the hall behind him
They follow and find Brayden slumped in one of the chairs. He's not smiling. Not really frowning. Just kind of sitting there, staring at nothing, and waiting for this day to be over. Jensen can sympathize.
“Now, as I told Mr. Kane earlier on the phone, a few of Brayden's teachers have voiced concerns that he's been acting,” the man pauses as he slides into his chair and folds his hands on the desk. His eyes are fixed on Brayden, like he's looking for some sort of crack in the kid's non-existent armor or something. “They feel he's acting out of character lately.”
Jensen risks a glance at Jared only to see everything that his boyfriend is thinking clearly on his handsome features. His dad took off while he was at school one day, and he's been passed around like a hot potato ever since. How the fuck do you expect him to act, asshole? To Jared's credit, he only clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest, hip resting against the filing cabinet next to the window.
“His homework is not as thorough as it once was,” the principal goes on and Jensen wants to ask why he's acting like Brayden's not even sitting here with them. “His language borders on, and sometimes crosses into, inappropriate.” Neither Jensen nor Jared bother to ask what that means. “And today, he punched another student with no provocation.”
“You sure about that?” Jared asks, and it takes Jensen by surprise. He fully expected to walk in, hear the principal tell them that they were terrible caretakers and that they should be monitoring Brayden more closely. He fully expected that they would get reamed out for whatever had happened today, and that they would both just sit there and take it. He kind of thought that maybe the school would have called the police and blown the whistle on Chris for leaving a kid he's supposed to be responsible for with two chuckleheads who obviously have no idea what they're doing. And then he expected to laugh about it on the way home. Jared challenging authority isn't new. Still, it catches Jensen off-guard.
“Every account says the same thing, Mr. Padalecki,” the principal answers in a tone that Jensen's pretty sure would get him knocked out if he used it anywhere but in his own office.
Instead of taking the answer at face value, Jared's eyebrow shoots up. “Even Brayden's?”
It's the first time he's said the kid's name in just over a week, and Jensen's not the only one who notices. Though he doesn't look up, Brayden's eyes fly wide and he sits a little straighter in his seat, like Jared speaking his name means something to him.
The principal, obviously not used to being questioned, stammers for a moment. “Well, he . . . when we asked him for his take on the events of this afternoon, he didn't have anything to say for himself.”
“Oh for fuck's sake,” Jensen hears himself say, turning his head to catch Jared's eye once again. Even he knows that something shady is going on. Not that he believes there's some big conspiracy, but he's been an outcast long enough to know that the quiet kid who sits in the corner and minds his own is the first one to get blamed when shit goes down he happened to be close to. He's not sure how long this guy's been working with adolescent boys, but he clearly has no idea how they operate.
Jared's voice breaks into his thoughts as he kicks a long leg out to nudge Brayden's chair. “Bray?” The kid turns unsure eyes to the large man's face. “You punch this kid?” Brayden nods, cheeks tinted red at the admission. “On purpose?” Again, a nod. “Why?”
“It doesn't matter,” the principal starts to interject.
But Jared just glares at him, and it almost makes Jensen laugh. Most of the time, his boyfriend is perfectly happy to just look intimidating. He doesn't purposely use it on anyone usually. Today, he seems to have a point to prove, and Jensen's not sure if it's more entertaining, or sexy as all hell.
He doesn't speak to the principal, just turns his gaze back to Brayden, who offers a soft confession of, “He called Joey gay.”
“So?” Jensen prods, because there's obviously more to this story than this dumbass school administrator has bothered to figure out.
“So he said it like it was the worst thing a person could be. And it pissed me off.” Brayden's body is turned now, facing Jared and Jensen instead of the principal. His head is held a little higher, like he's not ashamed of what he did. Like he would do it again in a heartbeat.
Even though he can respect the kid's desire to stand up for his friend, even Jensen can see the irony in promoting tolerance by hitting someone in the face. “Dude, you can't just go around punching people, okay?” He's not sure what they're supposed to do here. They're not his parents, and until this moment, Brayden hasn't really given them any reason to punish him for anything. He's been pretty good. Even now, Jensen's not entirely sure they need to be grounding him or anything. He's pretty sure that Jared would agree that Brayden maybe didn't do anything so wrong.
“Mr. Ackles is right, Brayden.”
The words piss Jensen off. And he can tell that Jared's shoulders stiffen a little bit, too. Because he might be right, because maybe Brayden shouldn't have hit the damn kid, but it's not so black and white. Nothing ever is. And Chuckles in a Cheap Suit doesn't seem to understand that.
“What happened to the other kid?” he asks and the principal gapes a little bit like he's surprised by the turn in the conversation.
“He had a bloody nose. Some swelling,” the older man starts to explain.
But that's not what Jensen means, and Jared knows it. “He means what kind of punishment did he receive,” he clarifies and it's all Jensen can do not to throw his arm around his boyfriend's neck and suck a deep bruise into his skin. There's something so commanding about him, something that doesn't come out so often, but that never fails to turn Jensen on completely.
“Punishment?” With a shake of his graying head, the man looks at Brayden and then back at the united pair standing next to his window. “Brayden started the fight.”
Once, after they'd been dating for about four months, some guy mouthed off to Jensen in a bar. Said something about emo fuckers and Jensen's eyeliner. As is usually his M.O., Jensen let it roll. The guy didn't like being ignored, and eventually started shouting all sorts of idiotic bull shit over the din of conversation and the 80's rock playing on the jukebox in the corner.
He tried, really fucking tried to get Jared to stand down and let it go. But that was the night that Jensen learned, for all Jared's apathetic bluster, he does care about certain injustices. Or, at least, about certain people in his life. And he's not about to let shit go quietly until he says what he has to say about it.
“So your policy then,” Jared starts, hands resting loosely on his hips, “is that anyone can spread whatever moronic bull shit they want, as long as it doesn't result in physical violence?” His tone says that he thinks the principal is an incompetent child. And everyone knows how much Jared loves children of any kind.
The man behind the desk clenches his jaw and plasters a smile so fake on his lips it almost hurts Jensen to look at it. “I am not homophobic, Mr. Padalecki,” he starts to defend himself.
“He didn't ask if you were,” Jensen jumps in because he's pretty sure that Jared's going to get tired of trying to talk to this guy in about fifteen seconds. And he's also pretty sure that Jared breaking the principal's jaw isn't going to help Brayden's case at all. “Listen, we're not the guys who fight for the right to wave our rainbow flag, okay? Don't really care if you're teachin' these kids about tolerance or whatever.
“Just seems that, when the kid who was trying to do the right thing is the one bein' held in the principal's office, and the one who's too ignorant to know that people's differences don't actually make them bad people is the victim? Somethin' might be a little off is all,” he shakes his head and pushes off the filing cabinet he's been leaning against. “Come on, Bray,” he pats the kid on the shoulder and leaves the office without waiting for a response.
Jared's quiet as they pull out of the parking lot, his fingers clutched tightly against the steering wheel, and Jensen knows better than to ask him what's wrong.
“Thanks guys,” Brayden's small voice fills the silence in the car as they ease back on the freeway.
Jared just huffs a laugh and casts a glance over his shoulder. “Stop punching people in the face, kid,” he instructs, tone serious. But Jensen's pretty sure even Brayden can see the humor dancing in Jared's hazel eyes now.
“And stop fuckin' swearing in class, dammit,” Jensen throws in for good measure, adopting his most parental voice. Which pretty much sounds like his normal voice because, let's face it, he's not in the least bit paternal.
Casting a glance over his shoulder, he almost laughs at the mock-sincerity on the kid's face when he looks pointedly at Jensen. “I learned it from watching you,” he intones and Jensen makes a mental note not to let him watch YouTube with Mike at the store anymore.
“We're legal,” is his lame-ass answer to that accusation.
Jared's eyebrow shoots up to his hairline as he risks a glance at the man beside him. “What is the legal swearing age in California, Jensen?” he asks.
“Fuck you,” Jensen responds, looking past his boyfriend's shoulder to the ocean just beyond the highway.
This life that they're living right now is pretty fucking surreal, it occurs to him at this moment. They live in a beautiful city, own businesses that they love, and have a pretty solid relationship. Coupled with the fact that they have great friends, and are looking after a pretty cool kid who only gets in trouble for doing something that neither of them think is actually wrong? It's pretty hard to convince Jensen that his life is anything but totally sick at the moment.
“I want a taco,” he announces and Jared stretches his arm out around the back of Jensen's seat with a look that says I love you, you random dork while Brayden leans back in his seat and taps his hands to some unheard rhythm against his thigh. For the first time in more than a week, Jensen lets himself believe that everything is just going to work itself out, and he has nothing to really worry about at all.
“Alright, dude, you're all set,” Jared pats the arm of the client he's been tatting for the last four hours. His eyes are starting to burn and his hand is cramped from the constant gripping of the gun and the pulling of skin. He never thought he'd be the guy who couldn't wait to get home, but dropping onto the couch with a cold beer and Jensen sounds like maybe the best fantasy he's ever allowed himself.
Of course, Jensen's been crazy busy lately, so the chances of him actually coming out of his office to watch television are slim-to-none. The Macy's deadline looms ever closer, and Jared's not sure he's ever seen Jensen so focused on anything in the entire three years he's known him. It's annoying, when Jared wants to see him, but it's also kind of inspiring. And more-than-a-little hot, too.
Turning, he casts his eyes to the back of the studio, cringing when he finds Brayden's tee shirt sleeve pulled up over his puny shoulder while Sophia presses thin white paper to the skin. “The fuck you doin', woman?” he barks.
Both Brayden and Sophia shoot guilty eyes in Jared's direction and then Sophia smiles easily and shrugs. “Experimentin',” she answers impishly. “Not like I'm gonna do a real one,” she rolls her eyes.
“You could,” Brayden tells her, eyes flitting between the woman sitting before him and the design she's stenciled onto his arm. “It's pretty bad ass,” he adds, blushing a little bit when Sophia smiles.
Oh, Jesus, Jared thinks to himself, wondering if Chad will bother to beat the shit out of a kid like he would anyone else who flirts with Sophia. He hopes not. He'd hate to have to knock his best friend out. “Yeah, you'll be thinkin' bad ass when Chris gets home and kicks yours,” he points out, knowing that he sounds way too 'mother hen' for his own liking.
The bell over the door dings, and Jared can't fight the smile that spreads over his lips when he sees Jensen standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his loose-fitting dickies. Sure, he just saw the guy this morning, but still . . . it never really gets old, looking up and seeing that face focused solely on him.
“Hey, Stranger,” he greets when Jensen crosses the room and stops next to Jared's station. He drops a quick kiss on his boyfriend's lips and returns to cleaning his tools.
Jensen just rolls his eyes and cracks his knuckles. “You done for today?” Jared nods. “Wanna go to Houston's?” He mentions the name of Jared's favorite steakhouse and then smiles in return when the grin breaks Jared's face.
“What's the occasion?” Not that they need an occasion to grab dinner together. Except that lately, it seems like they do.
Shrugging, Jensen jams his hands into his pockets and leans back against the counter at his back. “Just finished my line,” he says as though it's nothing. “Thought we could celebrate.”
“It's done?” Jared asks, smiling even wider because he knows it's a big deal, even if Jensen won't admit it. “That's awesome, Jen,” he winks, grabbing another quick kiss before making sure all of his ink wells are sealed.
Jensen nods and casts a glance over his shoulder. “Think Soph will mind?” he nods and Jared follows his eyes to the pair across the way. “I mean, we can take him with, if you want,” he starts to backtrack, like he's embarrassed for implying that he wants some time alone with Jared.
One hundred and sixty weeks. That's how long Jared and Jensen have been together, give or take, and Jared can't remember a single one that they've spent without at least a few uninterrupted hours of time together. It's not always about fucking, though they do their lion's share of that, for sure. It's about hanging out together. Talking. Not talking. Laughing. Reading. Whatever. Even when Jared gets a last minute call to fly out on business, or Jensen has to head out to the X-Games or whatever, they find time in the week together.
It's kind of embarrassing how Jared didn't realize how much he loves hanging out with Jensen until he hasn't been able to for the better part of two weeks. Sure, they still fall asleep and wake up together, but it's not the same thing now that there's someone else in the house all the time. And Brayden's a good kid and everything, but Jared's still not convinced that anybody is worth sacrificing all of his alone time with Jensen. Even if that makes him a selfish bastard, Jared's okay with it. He doesn't need to be Father of the Year. He needs Jensen.
Reaching an arm out, Jared grabs Chad as he walks by on his way to his station.
“The fuck you touchin' me for?” Chad asks, all indignant, though he makes no move to escape.
Jared just rolls his eyes. “You and Soph take the kid for a few hours?” The fact that he doesn't have to say anymore for Chad to nod, roll his shoulders, and then smirk like a motherfucker is yet another reason that he's Jared's wingman. “Thanks, man,” he smiles brightly and Chad just rolls his eyes.
“Whatever, dude. Call when you're all fucked out and ready to have him back,” he sighs and continues on to the back of the studio.
The ease with which Chad takes it all in and lets it all right back out again makes Jared huff a laugh and he stands to smooth his hands over the thighs of his jeans. “Come on, Michael Kors. Let's celebrate,” he winks and Jensen rolls his eyes as he follows Jared from the shop and into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. If Jared ignores him when Jensen asks how he knows who Michael Kors is? Well, maybe he just didn't hear the question.
There was one time, when he was about fourteen, he was sent to live with this Christian couple in El Paso. Jared doesn't think about them often because it's embarrassing to remember the one time he was the reason things didn't work out. They were good people, and if he hadn't been so angry, so determined to fuck the world like it had fucked him, they probably would have kept him until he graduated.
He remembers the way they used to sit together at dinner, talking about their day and smiling at each other like there was nobody else in the entire world that mattered as much to each of them than the other. And he remembers one particularly unguarded moment where he let himself think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't suck out loud to have somebody look at him like that someday. Of course, he didn't really believe it would ever happen, and he couldn't afford hope at the point, but he remembers the flash of it in his chest on that one occasion.
Over the main course, Jensen's talking about how different Tom's been lately, about how much he's changed in the two weeks since he's finally owned up to his sexuality and all but moved in with Mike. It's not really important conversation, and it doesn't really have anything to do with them or anything, but it reminds Jared of that day back in El Paso. Of wishing that somebody would smile at him like he held their entire world in his hands. And it doesn't matter that Jensen's words are kind of mindless gossip because he's got that smile on his face and it's aimed right at Jared. Like this story wouldn't be worth telling if he wasn't telling it to Jared.
“I love you,” Jared blurts out a few minutes later, in the middle of some anecdote about frozen coffee and Danneel's pink tank top.
It surprises him as much as it surprises Jensen and it kind of feels like an eternity that they just stare at each other, eyes wide and a little bit confused. Not because they've never said it before, but it's really not that often that the words come out of either of them. It's a phrase neither of them really trusts much, given their past histories, and to be completely honest, it's kind of unnecessary. It doesn't really change anything between them, the way they interact and exist with each other. So what's the point?
“Okay,” Jensen nods finally, face twisted just this side of confusion as he shakes his head and pulls a drink from his beer bottle. He's thrown, Jared can see it, and he wants to assure him that it's not a big deal and he should go on with the Danneel story.
But it is kind of a big deal. Not that it's anything new, but just that Jared really fucking feels it this time. Deep. Like it's in his bones or something. “No, I,” he starts to stammer around it because they don't talk about their feelings. Well, Jared doesn't talk about his feelings. Ever. To anyone. Would much rather show them than have to address them. “I just . . . I don't know, man. Just thought you should know, I guess,” he tries to laugh it off, shoulders rising and falling with an easy shrug.
Under the table, he feels Jensen's foot crawling up the inside of ankle and then passing over his calf. He's not sure if that makes him feel suddenly hot, or if it's the way Jensen's smile threatens to swallow his whole face just a few feet away. “Me, too,” he responds.
It's not Shakespeare. It's not even John Hughes. And on the surface, it feels a little like a Sundance entry: Couple of punk outcasts from opposites sides of Texas find each other in LA and manage to overcome their baggage to fall easily and madly in love with each other? It's definitely an indie film waiting to happen. But even Diablo Cody couldn't really capture Jensen and Jared in quirky, catch-phrasey accuracy.
Because, despite the fact that they're party boys who've had some random abandoned pre-teen thrust on them, forcing them to adjust their way of life and adapt to a whole new set of challenges, their life is not some romantic comedy that's going to hit theaters like the sleeper surprise of the summer. Nobody's going to ever be able to portray, with any amount of accuracy, what Jared feels when he shifts his foot under the table and Jensen's leg drags against his. And he's pretty sure no actor cast to play Jensen would ever capture the unadulterated joy that shines from his eyes when he tosses a couple of bills onto the check that the waiter left a few minutes ago and pulls his keys from his pocket.
It doesn't really matter, Jared thinks as they leave the restaurant with intent charging between them like electricity through the Santa Monica streets as they make their way home. Doesn't matter if this life has taken a decidedly different turn in the last few weeks, or if things are changing in ways that Jared resists when he stops to really think about them. It just doesn't matter.
Their life isn't a movie and it's not going to be tied up in a neat little bow after a couple of hours. The characters aren't always going to be sympathetic, and occasionally, it's going to feel trite and somewhat cliché. It doesn't follow any kind of pattern or outline, but it just doesn't fucking matter.
It's still good. Better than good. Every single part of it. With all of it's flaws and imperfections and . . . damn, it's hard to consider anything about imperfections when Jensen sinks to his knees like that.
A few hours later, Jared makes his way into the kitchen, thoroughly fucked and freshly showered. Brayden is sitting at the kitchen island, Jensen is leaning across from him, reading something off of a piece of paper.
“S'goin' on?” Jared asks, brushing his hip against Jensen's on his way to the refrigerator. He pulls a couple of beers for himself and Jensen and then slides a soda bottle to Brayden before taking his first drink.
Jensen holds the paper up and then puts it back down to open his bottle. “PTA fundraiser carnival,” he says with a smirk, and Jared rolls his eyes just like Jensen's waiting for him to do. Not because Jensen's waiting. Because it's the frickin' PTA, man.
Brayden's eyes are on him now, too, and Jared thinks maybe he just unwittingly walked into something really painful and kinda fucking ugly. “What?” he asks, lowering his beer bottle and gripping the counter behind him.
“The school is asking for adult participation. Volunteers and donations for a silent auction and shit,” Jensen explains. “But it's next weekend and I'm gonna be in New York for the Macy's thing.”
The explanation hangs in the air and Jared knows he's supposed to say something, but he doesn't know what. “Pretty sure we didn't leave the best impression last time we were there, Jen,” he reminds his boyfriend and Brayden rolls his eyes. “What do you want me to do? I can put up a certificate for some chair time,” he offers.
Jensen clears his throat and Brayden looks back at his hands, like he doesn't want to be singled out in this conversation. “Bray kinda has a great idea,” he prods and the kid just blushes.
Jared waits, but it's pretty obvious that Brayden's not going to say anything. “You gonna make me guess, Kid?” he asks.
Exhaling a deep breath, Brayden finally meets Jared's eye and sometimes it bugs him just how scared the kid can be of him. He doesn't think he's scary at all. Jensen will tell anybody who asks, and a lot of people who don't, that Jared's just a big puppy dog or a teddy bear. But something about him seems to bother Brayden and it didn't really concern Jared until recently.
“There's a few parents that are doin' stuff for charity. Like, not for the school, but for other charities around or whatever. Like they're tryin' to teach us 'bout giving back to others or some shit,” Brayden starts to explain, his voice draining with each syllable he pushes out. “Thought maybe you could set up a booth?”
“You want me to tattoo a bunch of a middle school kids?” Jared asks, eyes wide at the absolute badness of that idea.
Jensen jumps in to calm him down. “Not permanently, dumbass. Just some airbrushed shit. Take Soph with you . . . kinda like face painting, only cooler and you can charge more.”
Okay, so maybe that's not a terrible idea. “Do they choose the charity?” he asks and Brayden shakes his head and points, like Jared would get to choose his own. “Cool. Tell 'em I'll do temp tats for the A Dog's Life,” he nods easily. And just like that, it's settled.
On his way to the theater, Jared's thoughts drift back to the life that he and Jensen are sharing now. In the course of the last twelve hours, he has tattooed a D-list reality television star, had a really stellar dinner and even better sex with his too-hot-to-be-real boyfriend, and agreed to do charity work at a middle school PTA function.
Charity work. At a middle school. For the PTA. Jared Padalecki. What. The. Fuck?
Chapter 6
Author:
raeschae Rating: R
Characters: Jared, Jensen, OMC, Sophia
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: Still just the language, which is probably a given by now but, ya know, I live life on the safe side. (Uh, er, something like that.)
Word Count: 5500 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone. Especially the J's, who would totally be inked like they are in the graphic if I did. :)
Graphic under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
Eventually, things even out. Jared and Brayden aren't best friends or anything, but at least the kid stops flinching every time Jared walks into a room. And Jared stops waiting for Brayden to snap and try to kill them in their sleep. Jensen's still the middle man, but he thinks it might always be that way.
So, everything considered, they're in a pretty decent place after a week together and Jensen figures they'll, at the very least, survive until Chris gets home. Of course, it's only when things are going well that the shit can truly hit the fan in poetic fashion.
Therefore, it shouldn't surprise him when Jared shoulders his way past a line of customers on a busy Thursday afternoon to rest his hand low on Jensen's back. It shouldn't surprise him when he dips his head and growls, “We gotta go,” with more anxiety than his usual 'we gotta go grab a quickie in the store room' voice.
Shouldn't be, but Jensen's heart rate still accelerates in his chest as he motions Mike over to help Danneel on the floor before following Jared through the store without question. Jared doesn't interrupt his work unless it's important.
“What is going on?” he asks around the lump in his throat.
Outside, stalking back toward his own vehicle, Jared speaks over his shoulder. “You turned your phone off,” like it's the most egregious error on the planet. “You can't just turn your motherfucking phone off, man!”
“Danneel's is on,” Jensen excuses, sliding into the front seat of Jared's car.
“Yeah,” Jared nods, easing the car out of its space. “Except that the kid doesn't live with Danneel, so Chris isn't gonna call her when shit goes down, is he?”
Jensen's not sure if he feels more guilty for turning his phone off, or for not considering that this little emergency situation might have something to do with Brayden sooner. “What happened?” he asks, well-aware the panicky sound in his voice. “Is he okay?”
“Little pissed,” Jared answers, resting his elbow in the open window as he accelerates onto the freeway. “But that's kinda par for the course with Chris,” he adds, eyes flitting over his left shoulder as he switches lanes.
Smacking him in the arm, Jensen grits his teeth. Leave it to Jared to be a smart ass when the situation could be serious. “I meant Brayden,” he clarifies with a roll of his eyes.
And Jared just looks amused. “Oh, now you're concerned?”
“Fuck you,” Jensen snaps, body twisting in the seat to easily face the man at his side. There are times when that profile takes his breath away. And times when he wants to knock the nose right off of Jared's face. “You have any idea how much pressure Tom's got me under right now? This Macy's line has to be done in two weeks, Jay. Business is picking up at the store and Danneel's having trouble handling it all on her own, so I'm tryin' to pitch in and help, but it's kinda runnin' me over right now.”
“You want me to cry for you?” Jared asks, sympathetic as a lover should be at just the right moments.
“I want you to stop bein' an ass for thirty seconds,” Jensen shoots back, annoyed and tense. “Just tell me where the fuck we're goin',” he sulks, sinking back into his seat and staring out the passenger side window.
“Kid got in a fight. School called Chris, but they won't release him 'til an adult shows up to get him,” is the only explanation Jensen gets.
“He start the fight?” Jensen asks.
Jared huffs and rolls his eyes, turning down a residential, tree-lined street that neither of them have really ever been on, if Jensen remembers correctly. “Fuck if I know what the hell happened, man.”
Jared's car is kind of irritatingly ostentatious. Bright red. Sleek and brand new. Convertible. It kind of screams 'I'm an asshole with money and you're not – na na na na na!' Jensen thinks, but it took a whole lot of seduction to convince Jared that something he wanted wasn't a collosal waste of money. Of course, in the parking lot of Truman Middle School? It's about a thousand times more conspicuous than down at the pier.
“Ya know, you coulda just done this yourself,” he points out as they climb out of the car and Jared locks the doors. Of the convertible. With the top down. Genius. Jensen knows he's being a bitch, that he's in a bad mood, but he has so much to do and Jared's not helping by dragging him away for some stupid shit he could have taken care of on his own.
“Oh, no,” Jared laughs and shakes his head, stuffing his keys into the pocket of his baggy jeans. “You're the one that gave that hearty 'we're in this together' speech the other night.”
Pouting, Jensen follows Jared through the parking lot and toward the double glass doors. “Bastard,” he grumbles under his breath. The reflection of Jared's grin in the doors is kind of like seeing sunlight reflected off the Pacific on a bright day. He smiles a little just at the sight of it.
Because really? If they're getting called into the principal's office? He's not going in without an ally. And there's nobody else in the world that Jensen wants as his partner in crime than Jared, even if he is stressed out and pissed off.
Inside the main office, they're told to take a seat and that the principal will be with them shortly. Jensen asks if they can just wait it out with Brayden, but the elderly secretary just fixes him with a curt stare and shakes her head.
It's not like they're not used to this. Being judged and found wanting by pretty much everyone with a real job and normal wardrobe, but Jensen's a little tense and it takes Jared's hand on his arm, pulling him down into a hard, plastic chair to keep him from telling her just where she can stick her condescending looks.
“Mr. Ackles,” a jovial-looking, middle-aged man in a cheap suit greets from the small hallways behind the secretary's desk. “Mr. Padalecki. Right this way, please,” he motions down the hall behind him
They follow and find Brayden slumped in one of the chairs. He's not smiling. Not really frowning. Just kind of sitting there, staring at nothing, and waiting for this day to be over. Jensen can sympathize.
“Now, as I told Mr. Kane earlier on the phone, a few of Brayden's teachers have voiced concerns that he's been acting,” the man pauses as he slides into his chair and folds his hands on the desk. His eyes are fixed on Brayden, like he's looking for some sort of crack in the kid's non-existent armor or something. “They feel he's acting out of character lately.”
Jensen risks a glance at Jared only to see everything that his boyfriend is thinking clearly on his handsome features. His dad took off while he was at school one day, and he's been passed around like a hot potato ever since. How the fuck do you expect him to act, asshole? To Jared's credit, he only clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest, hip resting against the filing cabinet next to the window.
“His homework is not as thorough as it once was,” the principal goes on and Jensen wants to ask why he's acting like Brayden's not even sitting here with them. “His language borders on, and sometimes crosses into, inappropriate.” Neither Jensen nor Jared bother to ask what that means. “And today, he punched another student with no provocation.”
“You sure about that?” Jared asks, and it takes Jensen by surprise. He fully expected to walk in, hear the principal tell them that they were terrible caretakers and that they should be monitoring Brayden more closely. He fully expected that they would get reamed out for whatever had happened today, and that they would both just sit there and take it. He kind of thought that maybe the school would have called the police and blown the whistle on Chris for leaving a kid he's supposed to be responsible for with two chuckleheads who obviously have no idea what they're doing. And then he expected to laugh about it on the way home. Jared challenging authority isn't new. Still, it catches Jensen off-guard.
“Every account says the same thing, Mr. Padalecki,” the principal answers in a tone that Jensen's pretty sure would get him knocked out if he used it anywhere but in his own office.
Instead of taking the answer at face value, Jared's eyebrow shoots up. “Even Brayden's?”
It's the first time he's said the kid's name in just over a week, and Jensen's not the only one who notices. Though he doesn't look up, Brayden's eyes fly wide and he sits a little straighter in his seat, like Jared speaking his name means something to him.
The principal, obviously not used to being questioned, stammers for a moment. “Well, he . . . when we asked him for his take on the events of this afternoon, he didn't have anything to say for himself.”
“Oh for fuck's sake,” Jensen hears himself say, turning his head to catch Jared's eye once again. Even he knows that something shady is going on. Not that he believes there's some big conspiracy, but he's been an outcast long enough to know that the quiet kid who sits in the corner and minds his own is the first one to get blamed when shit goes down he happened to be close to. He's not sure how long this guy's been working with adolescent boys, but he clearly has no idea how they operate.
Jared's voice breaks into his thoughts as he kicks a long leg out to nudge Brayden's chair. “Bray?” The kid turns unsure eyes to the large man's face. “You punch this kid?” Brayden nods, cheeks tinted red at the admission. “On purpose?” Again, a nod. “Why?”
“It doesn't matter,” the principal starts to interject.
But Jared just glares at him, and it almost makes Jensen laugh. Most of the time, his boyfriend is perfectly happy to just look intimidating. He doesn't purposely use it on anyone usually. Today, he seems to have a point to prove, and Jensen's not sure if it's more entertaining, or sexy as all hell.
He doesn't speak to the principal, just turns his gaze back to Brayden, who offers a soft confession of, “He called Joey gay.”
“So?” Jensen prods, because there's obviously more to this story than this dumbass school administrator has bothered to figure out.
“So he said it like it was the worst thing a person could be. And it pissed me off.” Brayden's body is turned now, facing Jared and Jensen instead of the principal. His head is held a little higher, like he's not ashamed of what he did. Like he would do it again in a heartbeat.
Even though he can respect the kid's desire to stand up for his friend, even Jensen can see the irony in promoting tolerance by hitting someone in the face. “Dude, you can't just go around punching people, okay?” He's not sure what they're supposed to do here. They're not his parents, and until this moment, Brayden hasn't really given them any reason to punish him for anything. He's been pretty good. Even now, Jensen's not entirely sure they need to be grounding him or anything. He's pretty sure that Jared would agree that Brayden maybe didn't do anything so wrong.
“Mr. Ackles is right, Brayden.”
The words piss Jensen off. And he can tell that Jared's shoulders stiffen a little bit, too. Because he might be right, because maybe Brayden shouldn't have hit the damn kid, but it's not so black and white. Nothing ever is. And Chuckles in a Cheap Suit doesn't seem to understand that.
“What happened to the other kid?” he asks and the principal gapes a little bit like he's surprised by the turn in the conversation.
“He had a bloody nose. Some swelling,” the older man starts to explain.
But that's not what Jensen means, and Jared knows it. “He means what kind of punishment did he receive,” he clarifies and it's all Jensen can do not to throw his arm around his boyfriend's neck and suck a deep bruise into his skin. There's something so commanding about him, something that doesn't come out so often, but that never fails to turn Jensen on completely.
“Punishment?” With a shake of his graying head, the man looks at Brayden and then back at the united pair standing next to his window. “Brayden started the fight.”
Once, after they'd been dating for about four months, some guy mouthed off to Jensen in a bar. Said something about emo fuckers and Jensen's eyeliner. As is usually his M.O., Jensen let it roll. The guy didn't like being ignored, and eventually started shouting all sorts of idiotic bull shit over the din of conversation and the 80's rock playing on the jukebox in the corner.
He tried, really fucking tried to get Jared to stand down and let it go. But that was the night that Jensen learned, for all Jared's apathetic bluster, he does care about certain injustices. Or, at least, about certain people in his life. And he's not about to let shit go quietly until he says what he has to say about it.
“So your policy then,” Jared starts, hands resting loosely on his hips, “is that anyone can spread whatever moronic bull shit they want, as long as it doesn't result in physical violence?” His tone says that he thinks the principal is an incompetent child. And everyone knows how much Jared loves children of any kind.
The man behind the desk clenches his jaw and plasters a smile so fake on his lips it almost hurts Jensen to look at it. “I am not homophobic, Mr. Padalecki,” he starts to defend himself.
“He didn't ask if you were,” Jensen jumps in because he's pretty sure that Jared's going to get tired of trying to talk to this guy in about fifteen seconds. And he's also pretty sure that Jared breaking the principal's jaw isn't going to help Brayden's case at all. “Listen, we're not the guys who fight for the right to wave our rainbow flag, okay? Don't really care if you're teachin' these kids about tolerance or whatever.
“Just seems that, when the kid who was trying to do the right thing is the one bein' held in the principal's office, and the one who's too ignorant to know that people's differences don't actually make them bad people is the victim? Somethin' might be a little off is all,” he shakes his head and pushes off the filing cabinet he's been leaning against. “Come on, Bray,” he pats the kid on the shoulder and leaves the office without waiting for a response.
Jared's quiet as they pull out of the parking lot, his fingers clutched tightly against the steering wheel, and Jensen knows better than to ask him what's wrong.
“Thanks guys,” Brayden's small voice fills the silence in the car as they ease back on the freeway.
Jared just huffs a laugh and casts a glance over his shoulder. “Stop punching people in the face, kid,” he instructs, tone serious. But Jensen's pretty sure even Brayden can see the humor dancing in Jared's hazel eyes now.
“And stop fuckin' swearing in class, dammit,” Jensen throws in for good measure, adopting his most parental voice. Which pretty much sounds like his normal voice because, let's face it, he's not in the least bit paternal.
Casting a glance over his shoulder, he almost laughs at the mock-sincerity on the kid's face when he looks pointedly at Jensen. “I learned it from watching you,” he intones and Jensen makes a mental note not to let him watch YouTube with Mike at the store anymore.
“We're legal,” is his lame-ass answer to that accusation.
Jared's eyebrow shoots up to his hairline as he risks a glance at the man beside him. “What is the legal swearing age in California, Jensen?” he asks.
“Fuck you,” Jensen responds, looking past his boyfriend's shoulder to the ocean just beyond the highway.
This life that they're living right now is pretty fucking surreal, it occurs to him at this moment. They live in a beautiful city, own businesses that they love, and have a pretty solid relationship. Coupled with the fact that they have great friends, and are looking after a pretty cool kid who only gets in trouble for doing something that neither of them think is actually wrong? It's pretty hard to convince Jensen that his life is anything but totally sick at the moment.
“I want a taco,” he announces and Jared stretches his arm out around the back of Jensen's seat with a look that says I love you, you random dork while Brayden leans back in his seat and taps his hands to some unheard rhythm against his thigh. For the first time in more than a week, Jensen lets himself believe that everything is just going to work itself out, and he has nothing to really worry about at all.
“Alright, dude, you're all set,” Jared pats the arm of the client he's been tatting for the last four hours. His eyes are starting to burn and his hand is cramped from the constant gripping of the gun and the pulling of skin. He never thought he'd be the guy who couldn't wait to get home, but dropping onto the couch with a cold beer and Jensen sounds like maybe the best fantasy he's ever allowed himself.
Of course, Jensen's been crazy busy lately, so the chances of him actually coming out of his office to watch television are slim-to-none. The Macy's deadline looms ever closer, and Jared's not sure he's ever seen Jensen so focused on anything in the entire three years he's known him. It's annoying, when Jared wants to see him, but it's also kind of inspiring. And more-than-a-little hot, too.
Turning, he casts his eyes to the back of the studio, cringing when he finds Brayden's tee shirt sleeve pulled up over his puny shoulder while Sophia presses thin white paper to the skin. “The fuck you doin', woman?” he barks.
Both Brayden and Sophia shoot guilty eyes in Jared's direction and then Sophia smiles easily and shrugs. “Experimentin',” she answers impishly. “Not like I'm gonna do a real one,” she rolls her eyes.
“You could,” Brayden tells her, eyes flitting between the woman sitting before him and the design she's stenciled onto his arm. “It's pretty bad ass,” he adds, blushing a little bit when Sophia smiles.
Oh, Jesus, Jared thinks to himself, wondering if Chad will bother to beat the shit out of a kid like he would anyone else who flirts with Sophia. He hopes not. He'd hate to have to knock his best friend out. “Yeah, you'll be thinkin' bad ass when Chris gets home and kicks yours,” he points out, knowing that he sounds way too 'mother hen' for his own liking.
The bell over the door dings, and Jared can't fight the smile that spreads over his lips when he sees Jensen standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his loose-fitting dickies. Sure, he just saw the guy this morning, but still . . . it never really gets old, looking up and seeing that face focused solely on him.
“Hey, Stranger,” he greets when Jensen crosses the room and stops next to Jared's station. He drops a quick kiss on his boyfriend's lips and returns to cleaning his tools.
Jensen just rolls his eyes and cracks his knuckles. “You done for today?” Jared nods. “Wanna go to Houston's?” He mentions the name of Jared's favorite steakhouse and then smiles in return when the grin breaks Jared's face.
“What's the occasion?” Not that they need an occasion to grab dinner together. Except that lately, it seems like they do.
Shrugging, Jensen jams his hands into his pockets and leans back against the counter at his back. “Just finished my line,” he says as though it's nothing. “Thought we could celebrate.”
“It's done?” Jared asks, smiling even wider because he knows it's a big deal, even if Jensen won't admit it. “That's awesome, Jen,” he winks, grabbing another quick kiss before making sure all of his ink wells are sealed.
Jensen nods and casts a glance over his shoulder. “Think Soph will mind?” he nods and Jared follows his eyes to the pair across the way. “I mean, we can take him with, if you want,” he starts to backtrack, like he's embarrassed for implying that he wants some time alone with Jared.
One hundred and sixty weeks. That's how long Jared and Jensen have been together, give or take, and Jared can't remember a single one that they've spent without at least a few uninterrupted hours of time together. It's not always about fucking, though they do their lion's share of that, for sure. It's about hanging out together. Talking. Not talking. Laughing. Reading. Whatever. Even when Jared gets a last minute call to fly out on business, or Jensen has to head out to the X-Games or whatever, they find time in the week together.
It's kind of embarrassing how Jared didn't realize how much he loves hanging out with Jensen until he hasn't been able to for the better part of two weeks. Sure, they still fall asleep and wake up together, but it's not the same thing now that there's someone else in the house all the time. And Brayden's a good kid and everything, but Jared's still not convinced that anybody is worth sacrificing all of his alone time with Jensen. Even if that makes him a selfish bastard, Jared's okay with it. He doesn't need to be Father of the Year. He needs Jensen.
Reaching an arm out, Jared grabs Chad as he walks by on his way to his station.
“The fuck you touchin' me for?” Chad asks, all indignant, though he makes no move to escape.
Jared just rolls his eyes. “You and Soph take the kid for a few hours?” The fact that he doesn't have to say anymore for Chad to nod, roll his shoulders, and then smirk like a motherfucker is yet another reason that he's Jared's wingman. “Thanks, man,” he smiles brightly and Chad just rolls his eyes.
“Whatever, dude. Call when you're all fucked out and ready to have him back,” he sighs and continues on to the back of the studio.
The ease with which Chad takes it all in and lets it all right back out again makes Jared huff a laugh and he stands to smooth his hands over the thighs of his jeans. “Come on, Michael Kors. Let's celebrate,” he winks and Jensen rolls his eyes as he follows Jared from the shop and into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. If Jared ignores him when Jensen asks how he knows who Michael Kors is? Well, maybe he just didn't hear the question.
There was one time, when he was about fourteen, he was sent to live with this Christian couple in El Paso. Jared doesn't think about them often because it's embarrassing to remember the one time he was the reason things didn't work out. They were good people, and if he hadn't been so angry, so determined to fuck the world like it had fucked him, they probably would have kept him until he graduated.
He remembers the way they used to sit together at dinner, talking about their day and smiling at each other like there was nobody else in the entire world that mattered as much to each of them than the other. And he remembers one particularly unguarded moment where he let himself think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't suck out loud to have somebody look at him like that someday. Of course, he didn't really believe it would ever happen, and he couldn't afford hope at the point, but he remembers the flash of it in his chest on that one occasion.
Over the main course, Jensen's talking about how different Tom's been lately, about how much he's changed in the two weeks since he's finally owned up to his sexuality and all but moved in with Mike. It's not really important conversation, and it doesn't really have anything to do with them or anything, but it reminds Jared of that day back in El Paso. Of wishing that somebody would smile at him like he held their entire world in his hands. And it doesn't matter that Jensen's words are kind of mindless gossip because he's got that smile on his face and it's aimed right at Jared. Like this story wouldn't be worth telling if he wasn't telling it to Jared.
“I love you,” Jared blurts out a few minutes later, in the middle of some anecdote about frozen coffee and Danneel's pink tank top.
It surprises him as much as it surprises Jensen and it kind of feels like an eternity that they just stare at each other, eyes wide and a little bit confused. Not because they've never said it before, but it's really not that often that the words come out of either of them. It's a phrase neither of them really trusts much, given their past histories, and to be completely honest, it's kind of unnecessary. It doesn't really change anything between them, the way they interact and exist with each other. So what's the point?
“Okay,” Jensen nods finally, face twisted just this side of confusion as he shakes his head and pulls a drink from his beer bottle. He's thrown, Jared can see it, and he wants to assure him that it's not a big deal and he should go on with the Danneel story.
But it is kind of a big deal. Not that it's anything new, but just that Jared really fucking feels it this time. Deep. Like it's in his bones or something. “No, I,” he starts to stammer around it because they don't talk about their feelings. Well, Jared doesn't talk about his feelings. Ever. To anyone. Would much rather show them than have to address them. “I just . . . I don't know, man. Just thought you should know, I guess,” he tries to laugh it off, shoulders rising and falling with an easy shrug.
Under the table, he feels Jensen's foot crawling up the inside of ankle and then passing over his calf. He's not sure if that makes him feel suddenly hot, or if it's the way Jensen's smile threatens to swallow his whole face just a few feet away. “Me, too,” he responds.
It's not Shakespeare. It's not even John Hughes. And on the surface, it feels a little like a Sundance entry: Couple of punk outcasts from opposites sides of Texas find each other in LA and manage to overcome their baggage to fall easily and madly in love with each other? It's definitely an indie film waiting to happen. But even Diablo Cody couldn't really capture Jensen and Jared in quirky, catch-phrasey accuracy.
Because, despite the fact that they're party boys who've had some random abandoned pre-teen thrust on them, forcing them to adjust their way of life and adapt to a whole new set of challenges, their life is not some romantic comedy that's going to hit theaters like the sleeper surprise of the summer. Nobody's going to ever be able to portray, with any amount of accuracy, what Jared feels when he shifts his foot under the table and Jensen's leg drags against his. And he's pretty sure no actor cast to play Jensen would ever capture the unadulterated joy that shines from his eyes when he tosses a couple of bills onto the check that the waiter left a few minutes ago and pulls his keys from his pocket.
It doesn't really matter, Jared thinks as they leave the restaurant with intent charging between them like electricity through the Santa Monica streets as they make their way home. Doesn't matter if this life has taken a decidedly different turn in the last few weeks, or if things are changing in ways that Jared resists when he stops to really think about them. It just doesn't matter.
Their life isn't a movie and it's not going to be tied up in a neat little bow after a couple of hours. The characters aren't always going to be sympathetic, and occasionally, it's going to feel trite and somewhat cliché. It doesn't follow any kind of pattern or outline, but it just doesn't fucking matter.
It's still good. Better than good. Every single part of it. With all of it's flaws and imperfections and . . . damn, it's hard to consider anything about imperfections when Jensen sinks to his knees like that.
A few hours later, Jared makes his way into the kitchen, thoroughly fucked and freshly showered. Brayden is sitting at the kitchen island, Jensen is leaning across from him, reading something off of a piece of paper.
“S'goin' on?” Jared asks, brushing his hip against Jensen's on his way to the refrigerator. He pulls a couple of beers for himself and Jensen and then slides a soda bottle to Brayden before taking his first drink.
Jensen holds the paper up and then puts it back down to open his bottle. “PTA fundraiser carnival,” he says with a smirk, and Jared rolls his eyes just like Jensen's waiting for him to do. Not because Jensen's waiting. Because it's the frickin' PTA, man.
Brayden's eyes are on him now, too, and Jared thinks maybe he just unwittingly walked into something really painful and kinda fucking ugly. “What?” he asks, lowering his beer bottle and gripping the counter behind him.
“The school is asking for adult participation. Volunteers and donations for a silent auction and shit,” Jensen explains. “But it's next weekend and I'm gonna be in New York for the Macy's thing.”
The explanation hangs in the air and Jared knows he's supposed to say something, but he doesn't know what. “Pretty sure we didn't leave the best impression last time we were there, Jen,” he reminds his boyfriend and Brayden rolls his eyes. “What do you want me to do? I can put up a certificate for some chair time,” he offers.
Jensen clears his throat and Brayden looks back at his hands, like he doesn't want to be singled out in this conversation. “Bray kinda has a great idea,” he prods and the kid just blushes.
Jared waits, but it's pretty obvious that Brayden's not going to say anything. “You gonna make me guess, Kid?” he asks.
Exhaling a deep breath, Brayden finally meets Jared's eye and sometimes it bugs him just how scared the kid can be of him. He doesn't think he's scary at all. Jensen will tell anybody who asks, and a lot of people who don't, that Jared's just a big puppy dog or a teddy bear. But something about him seems to bother Brayden and it didn't really concern Jared until recently.
“There's a few parents that are doin' stuff for charity. Like, not for the school, but for other charities around or whatever. Like they're tryin' to teach us 'bout giving back to others or some shit,” Brayden starts to explain, his voice draining with each syllable he pushes out. “Thought maybe you could set up a booth?”
“You want me to tattoo a bunch of a middle school kids?” Jared asks, eyes wide at the absolute badness of that idea.
Jensen jumps in to calm him down. “Not permanently, dumbass. Just some airbrushed shit. Take Soph with you . . . kinda like face painting, only cooler and you can charge more.”
Okay, so maybe that's not a terrible idea. “Do they choose the charity?” he asks and Brayden shakes his head and points, like Jared would get to choose his own. “Cool. Tell 'em I'll do temp tats for the A Dog's Life,” he nods easily. And just like that, it's settled.
On his way to the theater, Jared's thoughts drift back to the life that he and Jensen are sharing now. In the course of the last twelve hours, he has tattooed a D-list reality television star, had a really stellar dinner and even better sex with his too-hot-to-be-real boyfriend, and agreed to do charity work at a middle school PTA function.
Charity work. At a middle school. For the PTA. Jared Padalecki. What. The. Fuck?
Chapter 6
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 06:15 pm (UTC)I think Jared and Jensen are a lot more grown up than they give themselves credit for -can't wait for the next chapter, I want to see Jared at this PTA thing!
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 01:22 am (UTC)