Celebration (A Disclaimer Verse OneShot)
Apr. 12th, 2010 08:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raeschaeTitle: Celebration (A Disclaimer Verse OneShot)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raeschae
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5000
Summary: It's Jared's 30th birthday, and Jensen plans the perfect party (and gift) to celebrate the occasion.
Part of the Disclaimer Verse
Forimaginethehappy, on her special day - hope it's nothing but awesome, and that all of your birthday wishes come true.
A/N: I teased this last week, but I had to wait until today because it's, apparently, the day to be born around here. Betweenimaginethehappy, princesslanie, and a couple of people IRL, I know four people who entered to world on this date however many years ago. Insanity! Anyway, this is my tribute.
Also, for those of you who don't know, I ran a Disclaimer comment meme last week, which resulted in amazing prompts from a lot of people, and twenty-three little timestamps in this verse. They're all under a thousand words and can be found here, if you wanna check them out. Each fic has it's own link, so you don't have to sort through everything if you don't want to, or don't have the time.
“What are you doing?”
Jensen looks up from the sheet of paper in his hand and shrugs. “Seating chart.”
“For what?” Danneel's eyebrow arches and she grabs the paper before Jensen can protest. “Are you?” Her mouth gapes. “Jensen, are you guys finally gonna . . . are you seriously . . . “
Jensen rolls his eyes and drops his pencil onto the top of his table. “Did you hit your head?” He leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other, and then folds his hands against his stomach. “Of course we're not gonna . . . ever. Never ever.”
“Methinks thou doth protest too much,” is Mike's answer from his table.
Jensen throws a corn chip at him – he has no idea how long it's been setting there – and slumps back in his seat. “Methinks you're a stupid fuck face.”
Mike throws up a middle finger and nods for Danneel to hand the paper over. His eyes scan it for a minute, and then he laughs. Hard and sharp. “You're fucking kidding with this, right?”
“What?”
“Dude, you had it all nailed down last week,” Mike reminds him, and sometimes Jensen hates his friend for being so attentive. “Why are you fuckin' around with it again? Don't you have, like, nineteen businesses to run or something?”
Before Jensen can answer, Danneel hoists herself onto the counter that separates his desk from Mike's and crosses her arms. “Would somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on here? If you're not getting married, then what's with the wack-a-doo seating chart?”
Jensen finally gets the paper back in his hands and immediately hates all of the work that he's done thus far. Mike's right. He should have left it like it was. “Jared's thirtieth birthday is next Saturday,” he mumbles distractedly, while trying to erase the names of everyone at table five.
“And you're what? Planning to throw him a gala event in some hotel ballroom? Wait, is this . . . Trash? You're making a seating chart for the hottest club in LA?” Danneel laughs, even as she says the words and shakes her head. “What is wrong with you? Have you met Jared Padalecki? I think you'd like him. Want me to introduce you?” Jensen flips her off and shakes his head. “Dude, your man is not gonna wanna sit around some stuffy party with a buncha industry people to celebrate his birthday.”
How in the hell Danneel thinks she has some kind of inside knowledge of Jared that Jensen doesn't, he's not sure, but it's kind of fucking annoying. “Nobody loves a party like Jay. Good booze, hot music, sweaty, dancing bodies. He loves that shit.” More than Jensen does, actually.
“No, you're right,” Mike nods, and then smiles at Jensen like he's a complete fucking idiot or something. “For anybody else's birthday, he'd love it. But you're throwin' it for him, right?”
“No, I'm throwing his thirtieth birthday for you.”
“Then there better be twinkie boys in neon hot pants dancing on poles,” Danneel cracks and Mike throws the corn chip her direction. It sticks in her hair for a second and she throws it back at Jensen for good measure. “Look, Jen, I get it, okay? This is a big birthday. The first really big one he's had since you guys got together, right?” Jensen nods. “What'd he do for your thirtieth?”
Jensen can't help the smile that forms at that memory. “Took me to a donkey show in TJ, and then,” he stops and looks at his audience before laughing. “And then he let me tie him to the bed and fuck him with this monster. . . OW! Fucker!” he exclaims, when the pen Mike throws his way smacks him in the eye.
“Seriously? You think we wanna hear that shit?”
With a shrug, Jensen sinks back into his chair again. “Is there a point to all of this?”
Danneel slides from the counter and smooths her mini-skirt over her hips. “The point is that you gotta give Jared a night he'll never forget. He goes to parties like this all the time, Jensen. Throw him one that's different. One that he'd throw for himself, if the guy ever did a damn thing for himself.”
Advice bestowed, she disappears back into the pro shop. Mike doesn't say anything else, either, just cranks the stereo at his side and bobs his head to Brass Monkey by The Beastie Boys.
While it kills him to admit it, Danneel and Mike are right. He can't give Jared some huge, extravagant party, filled with people he barely knows and expect it to mean something to the guy. He has to make it Jay-specific.
Even as he shouts along with the song, and Mike (who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket if it had three handles), he knows exactly what he has to do.
“Happy birthday, Jay. It's on me.”
Jared turns from his place in the lounger by the pool and accepts the long neck bottle Chris is offering. “Thanks, man,” he nods, twisting the cap and taking a long, refreshing pull.
“The fuck you mean it's on you? Ain't shit here on you, fucker. You didn't pay for a goddamn thing.”
Laughing, Jared traces the tattoo on Jensen's hip with his thumb and shifts until his thighs are pressed against the outside of Jensen's. “But he had to pull himself away from the women, walk all the way over to the cooler, and then all the way over here to give it to me. It's the thought that counts.”
“The hell it is,” Jensen mutters, stealing Jared's frosty bottle to drink half of it himself. “If the fucking thought counted for shit, you wouldn't have made that goddamn bitch face of yours when I brought all this shit home.”
All Jared can do is lean back in his chair and pull Jensen to his chest, eyes drifting around the back yard. He did think that the food and alcohol Jensen was bringing home for a simple barbecue were excessive. But Jensen is excessive, and Jared's learned that well in the last seven years, so he doesn't complain too much.
It's a beautiful day for hanging out with his family, the scent of grilling burgers, beer, and cigarettes signaling summer as Jared has come to know it. There's laughter and trash talking in the pool, and Brayden's master birthday mix pours from the speakers in the pool house to accentuate it all.
The kid himself disappeared into the main house with his girl of the moment, Brandi (with an 'I'), forty-five minutes ago and Jared isn't thinking about what they might be doing in there. It's easier to enjoy himself that way.
The girls set up a volleyball game in the pool, but there's no net, so Chad, Steve, and Tom got roped into standing in the middle of the pool with their arms outstretched to mark the line. The party is worth the price of admission (metaphorically speaking) just to watch Chad get continuously knocked on the head with the pink rubber ball they're using.
“Eat it, Cupcake!” Sophia calls over the “net” when Katie dives for a ball that's just out of her reach.
“Eat me!” Katie calls back. And then, with a wicked grin, she winks at Sophia as she tosses the ball over her shoulder to Sandy. “No, seriously. You should definitely eat me.”
Jared's pretty sure Chad could catch the ball in his fucking mouth with the way his jaw drops at that suggestion, but Sophia just takes it in stride and easily returns Sandy's serve to Genevieve, who lunges and volleys it back.
If Danneel's eye was actually on the ball, instead of on the way Chris is tonguing the lip of his beer bottle in her direction, she might see it coming. As it is, though, she gets knocked under water when it thunks her in the head and Steve laughs so hard, he loses his footing and swallows half the pool. Jared's afraid, for a minute, that they might lose him, but he just spits and sputters, grinning like an idiot at his own stupidity.
Danneel rubs the back of her head and launches the ball as hard as she can across the pool, narrowly missing Genevieve's face. “Is anyone actually keeping score?” she asks to no one in particular.
Before anybody can answer, Mike turns from his place at the grill and holds a plate up. “Food's done!”
For a minute, Jared thinks they're actually going to drain his pool in their mad dash for the tables Jensen set up with side dishes and desserts. Either that, or somebody's gonna slip on the wet concrete and bust their head wide open. And won't that just be a birthday memory he'll never forget? Of course, he's nobody's mother, so he's not going to tell them to slow down or anything.
Jensen stands and turns, offering his hand to Jared. When he takes it, though, Jensen pulls him toward the house, instead of the food.
“Dude, what're you doin'?” Jared motions with his thumb over his shoulder. “Food's over there.”
Jensen doesn't seem to care, though, as they enter the house and Jared finds himself pushed forcefully against the wall. “Figure we got a few minutes 'til they realize you're not around,” he winks, hands clawing and raking over Jared's bare chest as Jensen's tongue plunges deep into his mouth.
It doesn't take any further prompting for Jared to cover the globes of Jensen's ass and hitch him in closer, widening his stance and bending his knees just enough to make them slot together like puzzle pieces. It's not sweet or choreographed, the way their bodies smash together and their teeth clash on impact. There's grunting, and possibly a little drool, but it's so goddamn perfect that Jared thinks Jensen could have given him this, just this, and it would have been the best present ever.
He's got his hands on Jensen's belt, brain fogged with the promise of Jensen on his tongue in just a few seconds, when he hears, “Oh, come the fuck on!” Keeping Jensen's hips pinned to his, Jared turns his head and runs his tongue over his lower lip while he smiles at Brayden. “There are people outside!”
“We're not outside,” Jensen retorts, leaning further into Jared's chest.
With a roll of his eyes, Brayden reaches for the hand of the girl at his side. Jared's fairly sure she's not Brandi (with an 'I'), being as she's brunette and about six inches taller than the blond Brayden came home with a couple of hours ago. “Let's go,” he grumbles, and the girl continues to stare at Jared as they walk by.
“Hi,” he greets with a friendly smile and she blushes hard.
“Fuck me sideways,” Brayden growls and his shoulders rise, and then fall, in a hopeless gesture of concession. “Alright, fine. This is Jay. Yes, he's on television. Yes, he's tall as a skyscraper and built like a brick shit house. Yes, he's really my dad. Can we go eat now?”
The girl just nods and catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “So you must be Jensen then?” she asks, eyes still focused on the couple, even as Brayden tries to drag her outside.
Jensen extracts himself from Jared's embrace and offers the girl a hand. It's not often that his boyfriend looks uncomfortable, but Jared can tell that Jensen's not happy with this turn of events. A.) He's not getting his dick sucked, and B.) Their son is, once again, fooling around with some girl who's more interested in them than she is in him. Brayden may think they don't notice, but there's not much he does that gets by them.
“Mike just finished the food, if you wanna head out there,” Jensen nods toward the door, and the girl just smiles wider. “Brayden, can I talk to you for a second?”
Brayden just shrugs and then opens the door for his new plaything. “I'll be right there,” he promises. “Go find Sophia or something.” Turning, he has the decency to look a little guilty.
“Who the fuck is that?” Jared asks, still not willing to let go of Jensen's waistband.
“Brandy,” he answers.
“That is not . . .”
“With a 'Y.' I'm not completely retarded, ya know?” He looks at them like he's hurt that they question his skills at this point. “I'm not gonna bring two girls with different names. Y'all are far too old to remember that shit.”
At that, Jared smiles and shakes his head. Sometimes, Brayden is so much like he was at seventeen, that it scares him a little bit. “You told her the rules, right?” is all he says about their new guest.
Brayden doesn't have a lot of rules when it comes to dating. Condoms and manners are pretty much the only things he has to remember. But if he brings a girl around the shop, the park, or any kind of gathering at the house, or any other house with the guys' friends, there are a few things he has to stress to said girl:
1.) Any pictures that she might take of any quasi-famous reality television “stars” are strictly for personal use, and selling them would be tacky and result in Jared calling a lawyer. They all know that there's nothing Jeff could do about it, but the threat has managed to keep the problem contained to this point.
2.) Discussion of the show, be it specific episodes or just general curiosity, should be kept to a minimum. They're all proud of what they do, and they're accepting of the attention that it brings them, but they live it all day, every day, and they're not interested in using their personal party time to talk about what Katie said to Chad in episode 3.06 or whatever.
3.) Jared, Jensen, Mike, and Tom really are one hundred percent, totally fucking gay. They're not going to change for some random fangirl who happens to think she has a great rack. Danneel has pretty much the most perfect breasts in the world, and she hasn't converted any of them yet. Conversely, Genevieve, Katie, Chris, and Steve will flirt, but they love Brayden almost as much as Jared and Jensen do, so propositioning them is another fruitless endeavor. Also, it's really fucking bad form.
“Of course I told her the rules. What, am I an idiot?” They both raise an eyebrow and Brayden's face falls while he lets a humorless laugh. “You guys are a laugh riot. Can I go back to my date now?”
They nod and when he's gone, Jared squeezes Jensen's hip and shakes his head. “Not our choice,” he reminds, like they've had this conversation a thousand times. Lately, it feels like they have.
Neither of them were so much saintly at Brayden's age, or for years after that, but that doesn't make it okay. In fact, it just reminds them that there were reasons they were constantly looking to bury themselves in someone else, and further drives home the point that Brayden has a few issues they can't help him fight through. It's easily Jared's least favorite part of parenting.
Dipping his head to resume where they left off, Jared is surprised when Jensen clutches a handful of his purple hair and exclaims, “Fuckin' hell, I gotta go!”
“You what?”
“Dude, I totally forgot I have to go pick up . . . something.”
“What something? The fuck're you talkin' about?” Jensen's been psyched about Jared's birthday for weeks. And it's not like him to skip out on their friends for anything.
“Just,” Jensen lunges forward to kiss him, quick and dirty. “Go eat. I'll be back.”
He's gone before Jared can ask 'what the hell' again, and for a second, Jared considers following. How fucking weird is that?
Instead, he stands against the wall and watches his friends through the glass doors.
Jensen told him last night about the plans he'd made to host some huge, raging blow out at Trash for Jared's birthday. He'd reserved the club, and they were going to shut down, on a Saturday night, to accommodate Jared and about three hundred of his closest friends and business acquaintances. It probably would have made TMZ and a few other gossip sites, judging from the A-list guests Jensen was throwing around in his description.
In the end, though, he scrapped it all and went with a backyard barbecue – family only. Jared can't express how glad he is that Jensen made the switch. He would have had a good time at the other party, no doubt. But it would have been because these people were there, partying with him. Not because of the celebrities and the hot location.
This? He pushes through the door and heads over to the food and his friends. This is his idea of a celebration.
It's nearly seven when Jensen rolls his bike into the garage. Brayden is showing Brandy (with a 'Y') the new rims he put on his bike last weekend, and Jensen barely nods in their direction as he heads into the house and directly up the stairs.
He stressed for months over what to get Jared for his big birthday, trying to figure out what he could do that would stand out, that Jared wouldn't soon forget. He's talked to everyone they know, gathered ideas, and racked his brain for the perfect thing.
And then he dropped by Slinging Ink one night to see if Jared was about ready to head home. Fifteen minutes into a conversation with Genevieve, it punched him square in the head. Obviously.
Pulling it off was no easy feat. He had to get away from Jared and over to Katie's place at some point during the party. Then he had to wait for her to do the same. She showed up, helped Jensen pick exactly the right one, and then ran back to the house before anyone noticed she was gone too long. Then he had to find something else to do for an hour or so, in the hopes that no one would catch on to their plan. And by 'no one', he means 'Jared'.
The party's still going strong in the backyard while Jensen lays the gift-wrapped box on Jared's pillow and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He texts two words (Bedroom. Now.) and then sits back to wait.
Jared doesn't disappoint, thundering up the stairs and looking a little more worried for wear than he did when Jensen left. “The fuck have you been?” he demands.
Jensen doesn't say anything, only nods to the box on Jared's pillow.
Taking the cue, Jared sits on Jensen's side of the bed, the one closest to the door, and reaches over to pluck the box from its place. He tears the silver ribbon off and opens the box, eyebrow arching up to his hairline. “This is the tackiest goddamn thing I've ever seen.” He holds the silicone cock ring on his finger, flicking at the little letters, spelling out “Happy Birthday” in a rainbow of colors along the top of it. “Seriously? Why don't we just call the party my present and be happy with that?”
Jensen shakes his head, but still says nothing.
“Alright, what the fuck is going on with,” Jared starts to ask, eyes drifting around the room like something's going to jump out of the bathroom or closet at him.
Without waiting for Jared to look at him, Jensen drops to the floor and works the button on Jared's shorts. Though he's still asking what the hell Jensen thinks he's doing, and why the fuck this can't wait, he raises his hips and helps Jensen rid him of his clothing.
“Come on, man. Seriously?” he asks, when Jensen slides the snug, blue ring into place and smirks as his thumb skims the top of the letters. “Jen, I don't know if now is the best time,” he starts.
But then Jensen catches his eyes. And slowly, so painfully slow it's like time might be stopping, he opens his mouth. The silver bar that Jared's been hinting at wanting him to get for years lays in the center of his tongue, catching the light and glinting so it almost seems to be winking.
For a full minute, Jared just stares, mouth gaping while his dick hardens and his eyes fix, with laser-focus, on the little silver ball. “I can't believe you,” he shakes his head finally and rakes his fingers through his hair. “This is . . . and you did . . . for me . . . “
Clearing his throat, Jensen licks his lips and cringes a little at the heightened sensation in his mouth. It's going to take a couple of weeks for it to heal, but it doesn't really hurt so much right now, and Katie told him to use it today, if he feels like it, because there's no way he's going to want to for the next week. It's a little swollen right now, but the next few days are going to be exponentially worse.
It's probably going to hurt, but Jensen knows that he can't just spring something like this on Jared and then not try it out. That's just cruel and unusual punishment.
“Alright, here's the deal. I don't know how this is gonna go down,” Jensen admits, hands climbing up Jared's thighs as he pushes them apart and scoots in closer. “It's a little numb, so my technique might be off,” he goes on.
Jared wraps a hand around the back of his neck and shakes his head. “Dude, I don't fuckin' care if you slobber like a fuckin' puppy,” he assures and tugs until Jensen gets the message and raises up a little.
The kiss is uncomfortable. Jared's tongue sliding against his is too much, and Jensen almost calls the whole thing off. But the whimper and the groan and the way Jared's hips move from just this? He can't give up. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't now.
He sinks back down and strokes his fist along Jared's shaft, the ball on the bottom of his tongue clinking against his teeth. It's going to take some getting used to, but if Jared loves it as much as he thinks he's going to, it's going to be worth it in the end.
Tentatively, he lays his tongue flat against the base of Jared's cock and drags the tip, along with the silver ball, in a slow stripe to the head. Jared's hand clutches the back of Jensen's neck and his head falls back as he groans, low and loud.
The nerve endings in Jensen's mouth are too sensitive, and it hurts to press too hard with his tongue against Jared's dick, but when he angles his face, squeezes his fist, and pushes the ball under the ridge of the head, Jared's hips thrust forward and lets out a, “Fucking Christ, Jen.” And Jensen forces his own pain down to do it again.
Some things work, some don't get much of a reaction, but Jensen spends a good ten minutes learning which is which by the sounds Jared is making. Pressing the ring against the slit earns him a whimper of pain, but pulling the head into his mouth and soothing it with the lazy point of his tongue seems to help immensely. With the swelling, he can't suck much without gagging, but he strips Jared's cock slow with one hand and uses the other to stroke circles around his hole. Judging from the string of curses and the bucking of Jared's hips, it makes up for the awkward blow job.
“Come on, Jen,” Jared finally manages, face and neck flushed red from the exertion.
Jensen crawls back onto the bed and presses his thigh hard between Jared's legs. “You wanna come for me, man?” he asks, fingers fumbling to loose the ring.
“Since you opened your mouth, fucker,” is Jared's response. Hence the cock ring.
When he's thrown the ridiculous thing they'll never use again over the side of the bed, Jensen grabs Jared's hand and wraps them both around his cock. “Happy Birthday, Jay,” he groans, sealing their mouths together and running the warm metal ball along the roof of Jared's mouth while their hands work together to bring him over the edge.
Jared slumps back against the mattress, boneless, and Jensen takes a second to steady himself. Jared will take care of him later, when there's not a crowd of people waiting downstairs to tease them for disappearing. When everyone's done making all sorts of inappropriate comments about Jensen's new jewelry. When they're alone, and able to take their time with each other. He's okay with that, and the throbbing feeling in his tongue is intense enough to overpower the waning erection anyway.
“You can't fall asleep,” Jensen reminds, patting Jared's thigh as he stands. “Come on. Clean yourself up and we'll get back to your party.”
“You clean me up,” Jared mumbles sleepily. “My birthday. Your mess.”
“Ain't my mess dryin' on your stomach, Stretch,” Jensen points out. “'Sides, I gotta rinse my mouth out. Unless you want it to get infected. Which, ya know, means we have to take the bar out.”
Jared's off the bed like a shot, smacking Jensen's ass on his way into the bathroom to grab a rag. “Be rude to leave my guests down there while I take a nap anyway,” he winks when he catches Jensen's eye in the mirror.
Preparing a cap of non-alcoholic mouthwash, Jensen shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know. They'd probably understand. I mean, you're all old and stuff now.”
Snapping a towel against the back of Jensen's thigh, Jared grabs his hip with one hand and bites softly at his shoulder. “Thank you, Jen. This has been an awesome birthday.”
He won't say it, but Jensen knows how much it means to Jared to have a day totally dedicated to him. He hates too much attention, but there's also a part of him that loves knowing that people care enough to make his existence a priority. It's not something he had before Jensen came along, but if Jensen has anything to say about it, it's not something he's ever going to go without again.
After dropping a kiss on the side of Jensen's neck, Jared dresses himself and heads back down to the party. He knows damn well how uncomfortable what they just did was for Jensen. It's his business to know the ins and outs of that kind of shit. That he would do it anyway, without so much as a hesitation? That he fucking planned for it? Means too fucking much to put into words.
He's walking through the kitchen when his eyes catch on something at the island. A quick detour around the counter, a closer look, reveals that it's a plain, white envelope with an artistic grafitti that simply says Jay.
The card inside is store bought and screams so much of the sender that Jared doesn't even have to open the damn thing to know it's from Brayden. He opens it anyway, though, and finds himself choking on a sudden, unexpected round of emotion.
Under the sarcastic punchline, in a simple scrawl that's barely legible, are the words Happy Birthday, Jay. Even though you're old and shit now, I'm glad you're my dad. Love, Bray.
Jared knows that the only reason the kid left it here is so that they won't have to talk about it again. He won't press the issue. Just reading it is enough.
“Hey,” Jensen speaks quietly, and Jared realizes that he didn't even hear the guy approach. “You okay?”
Sometimes, that's a hard question to answer, but today? He turns, bright, genuine smile and slightly-glassy eyes. “I'm awesome.” His stomach growls and they both laugh. “And fucking starving.”
“You didn't eat while I was gone?”
Jared throws his arm around Jensen's shoulder and shrugs. “Yeah, but that was, like, an hour ago. Dude, I'm a growing boy.”
Rolling his eyes, Jensen tucks his hand into the back pocket of Jared's baggy cargo shorts and lets himself be led back outside. “Not a boy anymore. You're thirty now, Jay. Standin' at the top of the goddamn hill. It's all over from here, man.”
Jared laughs but doesn't say anything. If he did, he would ask Jensen, if it's all over from here, why does it feel like his life's just starting to get really fucking good?
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Author:
raeschaePairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5000
Summary: It's Jared's 30th birthday, and Jensen plans the perfect party (and gift) to celebrate the occasion.
Part of the Disclaimer Verse
For
imaginethehappy, on her special day - hope it's nothing but awesome, and that all of your birthday wishes come true.A/N: I teased this last week, but I had to wait until today because it's, apparently, the day to be born around here. Between
imaginethehappy, princesslanie, and a couple of people IRL, I know four people who entered to world on this date however many years ago. Insanity! Anyway, this is my tribute.Also, for those of you who don't know, I ran a Disclaimer comment meme last week, which resulted in amazing prompts from a lot of people, and twenty-three little timestamps in this verse. They're all under a thousand words and can be found here, if you wanna check them out. Each fic has it's own link, so you don't have to sort through everything if you don't want to, or don't have the time.
“What are you doing?”
Jensen looks up from the sheet of paper in his hand and shrugs. “Seating chart.”
“For what?” Danneel's eyebrow arches and she grabs the paper before Jensen can protest. “Are you?” Her mouth gapes. “Jensen, are you guys finally gonna . . . are you seriously . . . “
Jensen rolls his eyes and drops his pencil onto the top of his table. “Did you hit your head?” He leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other, and then folds his hands against his stomach. “Of course we're not gonna . . . ever. Never ever.”
“Methinks thou doth protest too much,” is Mike's answer from his table.
Jensen throws a corn chip at him – he has no idea how long it's been setting there – and slumps back in his seat. “Methinks you're a stupid fuck face.”
Mike throws up a middle finger and nods for Danneel to hand the paper over. His eyes scan it for a minute, and then he laughs. Hard and sharp. “You're fucking kidding with this, right?”
“What?”
“Dude, you had it all nailed down last week,” Mike reminds him, and sometimes Jensen hates his friend for being so attentive. “Why are you fuckin' around with it again? Don't you have, like, nineteen businesses to run or something?”
Before Jensen can answer, Danneel hoists herself onto the counter that separates his desk from Mike's and crosses her arms. “Would somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on here? If you're not getting married, then what's with the wack-a-doo seating chart?”
Jensen finally gets the paper back in his hands and immediately hates all of the work that he's done thus far. Mike's right. He should have left it like it was. “Jared's thirtieth birthday is next Saturday,” he mumbles distractedly, while trying to erase the names of everyone at table five.
“And you're what? Planning to throw him a gala event in some hotel ballroom? Wait, is this . . . Trash? You're making a seating chart for the hottest club in LA?” Danneel laughs, even as she says the words and shakes her head. “What is wrong with you? Have you met Jared Padalecki? I think you'd like him. Want me to introduce you?” Jensen flips her off and shakes his head. “Dude, your man is not gonna wanna sit around some stuffy party with a buncha industry people to celebrate his birthday.”
How in the hell Danneel thinks she has some kind of inside knowledge of Jared that Jensen doesn't, he's not sure, but it's kind of fucking annoying. “Nobody loves a party like Jay. Good booze, hot music, sweaty, dancing bodies. He loves that shit.” More than Jensen does, actually.
“No, you're right,” Mike nods, and then smiles at Jensen like he's a complete fucking idiot or something. “For anybody else's birthday, he'd love it. But you're throwin' it for him, right?”
“No, I'm throwing his thirtieth birthday for you.”
“Then there better be twinkie boys in neon hot pants dancing on poles,” Danneel cracks and Mike throws the corn chip her direction. It sticks in her hair for a second and she throws it back at Jensen for good measure. “Look, Jen, I get it, okay? This is a big birthday. The first really big one he's had since you guys got together, right?” Jensen nods. “What'd he do for your thirtieth?”
Jensen can't help the smile that forms at that memory. “Took me to a donkey show in TJ, and then,” he stops and looks at his audience before laughing. “And then he let me tie him to the bed and fuck him with this monster. . . OW! Fucker!” he exclaims, when the pen Mike throws his way smacks him in the eye.
“Seriously? You think we wanna hear that shit?”
With a shrug, Jensen sinks back into his chair again. “Is there a point to all of this?”
Danneel slides from the counter and smooths her mini-skirt over her hips. “The point is that you gotta give Jared a night he'll never forget. He goes to parties like this all the time, Jensen. Throw him one that's different. One that he'd throw for himself, if the guy ever did a damn thing for himself.”
Advice bestowed, she disappears back into the pro shop. Mike doesn't say anything else, either, just cranks the stereo at his side and bobs his head to Brass Monkey by The Beastie Boys.
While it kills him to admit it, Danneel and Mike are right. He can't give Jared some huge, extravagant party, filled with people he barely knows and expect it to mean something to the guy. He has to make it Jay-specific.
Even as he shouts along with the song, and Mike (who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket if it had three handles), he knows exactly what he has to do.
“Happy birthday, Jay. It's on me.”
Jared turns from his place in the lounger by the pool and accepts the long neck bottle Chris is offering. “Thanks, man,” he nods, twisting the cap and taking a long, refreshing pull.
“The fuck you mean it's on you? Ain't shit here on you, fucker. You didn't pay for a goddamn thing.”
Laughing, Jared traces the tattoo on Jensen's hip with his thumb and shifts until his thighs are pressed against the outside of Jensen's. “But he had to pull himself away from the women, walk all the way over to the cooler, and then all the way over here to give it to me. It's the thought that counts.”
“The hell it is,” Jensen mutters, stealing Jared's frosty bottle to drink half of it himself. “If the fucking thought counted for shit, you wouldn't have made that goddamn bitch face of yours when I brought all this shit home.”
All Jared can do is lean back in his chair and pull Jensen to his chest, eyes drifting around the back yard. He did think that the food and alcohol Jensen was bringing home for a simple barbecue were excessive. But Jensen is excessive, and Jared's learned that well in the last seven years, so he doesn't complain too much.
It's a beautiful day for hanging out with his family, the scent of grilling burgers, beer, and cigarettes signaling summer as Jared has come to know it. There's laughter and trash talking in the pool, and Brayden's master birthday mix pours from the speakers in the pool house to accentuate it all.
The kid himself disappeared into the main house with his girl of the moment, Brandi (with an 'I'), forty-five minutes ago and Jared isn't thinking about what they might be doing in there. It's easier to enjoy himself that way.
The girls set up a volleyball game in the pool, but there's no net, so Chad, Steve, and Tom got roped into standing in the middle of the pool with their arms outstretched to mark the line. The party is worth the price of admission (metaphorically speaking) just to watch Chad get continuously knocked on the head with the pink rubber ball they're using.
“Eat it, Cupcake!” Sophia calls over the “net” when Katie dives for a ball that's just out of her reach.
“Eat me!” Katie calls back. And then, with a wicked grin, she winks at Sophia as she tosses the ball over her shoulder to Sandy. “No, seriously. You should definitely eat me.”
Jared's pretty sure Chad could catch the ball in his fucking mouth with the way his jaw drops at that suggestion, but Sophia just takes it in stride and easily returns Sandy's serve to Genevieve, who lunges and volleys it back.
If Danneel's eye was actually on the ball, instead of on the way Chris is tonguing the lip of his beer bottle in her direction, she might see it coming. As it is, though, she gets knocked under water when it thunks her in the head and Steve laughs so hard, he loses his footing and swallows half the pool. Jared's afraid, for a minute, that they might lose him, but he just spits and sputters, grinning like an idiot at his own stupidity.
Danneel rubs the back of her head and launches the ball as hard as she can across the pool, narrowly missing Genevieve's face. “Is anyone actually keeping score?” she asks to no one in particular.
Before anybody can answer, Mike turns from his place at the grill and holds a plate up. “Food's done!”
For a minute, Jared thinks they're actually going to drain his pool in their mad dash for the tables Jensen set up with side dishes and desserts. Either that, or somebody's gonna slip on the wet concrete and bust their head wide open. And won't that just be a birthday memory he'll never forget? Of course, he's nobody's mother, so he's not going to tell them to slow down or anything.
Jensen stands and turns, offering his hand to Jared. When he takes it, though, Jensen pulls him toward the house, instead of the food.
“Dude, what're you doin'?” Jared motions with his thumb over his shoulder. “Food's over there.”
Jensen doesn't seem to care, though, as they enter the house and Jared finds himself pushed forcefully against the wall. “Figure we got a few minutes 'til they realize you're not around,” he winks, hands clawing and raking over Jared's bare chest as Jensen's tongue plunges deep into his mouth.
It doesn't take any further prompting for Jared to cover the globes of Jensen's ass and hitch him in closer, widening his stance and bending his knees just enough to make them slot together like puzzle pieces. It's not sweet or choreographed, the way their bodies smash together and their teeth clash on impact. There's grunting, and possibly a little drool, but it's so goddamn perfect that Jared thinks Jensen could have given him this, just this, and it would have been the best present ever.
He's got his hands on Jensen's belt, brain fogged with the promise of Jensen on his tongue in just a few seconds, when he hears, “Oh, come the fuck on!” Keeping Jensen's hips pinned to his, Jared turns his head and runs his tongue over his lower lip while he smiles at Brayden. “There are people outside!”
“We're not outside,” Jensen retorts, leaning further into Jared's chest.
With a roll of his eyes, Brayden reaches for the hand of the girl at his side. Jared's fairly sure she's not Brandi (with an 'I'), being as she's brunette and about six inches taller than the blond Brayden came home with a couple of hours ago. “Let's go,” he grumbles, and the girl continues to stare at Jared as they walk by.
“Hi,” he greets with a friendly smile and she blushes hard.
“Fuck me sideways,” Brayden growls and his shoulders rise, and then fall, in a hopeless gesture of concession. “Alright, fine. This is Jay. Yes, he's on television. Yes, he's tall as a skyscraper and built like a brick shit house. Yes, he's really my dad. Can we go eat now?”
The girl just nods and catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “So you must be Jensen then?” she asks, eyes still focused on the couple, even as Brayden tries to drag her outside.
Jensen extracts himself from Jared's embrace and offers the girl a hand. It's not often that his boyfriend looks uncomfortable, but Jared can tell that Jensen's not happy with this turn of events. A.) He's not getting his dick sucked, and B.) Their son is, once again, fooling around with some girl who's more interested in them than she is in him. Brayden may think they don't notice, but there's not much he does that gets by them.
“Mike just finished the food, if you wanna head out there,” Jensen nods toward the door, and the girl just smiles wider. “Brayden, can I talk to you for a second?”
Brayden just shrugs and then opens the door for his new plaything. “I'll be right there,” he promises. “Go find Sophia or something.” Turning, he has the decency to look a little guilty.
“Who the fuck is that?” Jared asks, still not willing to let go of Jensen's waistband.
“Brandy,” he answers.
“That is not . . .”
“With a 'Y.' I'm not completely retarded, ya know?” He looks at them like he's hurt that they question his skills at this point. “I'm not gonna bring two girls with different names. Y'all are far too old to remember that shit.”
At that, Jared smiles and shakes his head. Sometimes, Brayden is so much like he was at seventeen, that it scares him a little bit. “You told her the rules, right?” is all he says about their new guest.
Brayden doesn't have a lot of rules when it comes to dating. Condoms and manners are pretty much the only things he has to remember. But if he brings a girl around the shop, the park, or any kind of gathering at the house, or any other house with the guys' friends, there are a few things he has to stress to said girl:
1.) Any pictures that she might take of any quasi-famous reality television “stars” are strictly for personal use, and selling them would be tacky and result in Jared calling a lawyer. They all know that there's nothing Jeff could do about it, but the threat has managed to keep the problem contained to this point.
2.) Discussion of the show, be it specific episodes or just general curiosity, should be kept to a minimum. They're all proud of what they do, and they're accepting of the attention that it brings them, but they live it all day, every day, and they're not interested in using their personal party time to talk about what Katie said to Chad in episode 3.06 or whatever.
3.) Jared, Jensen, Mike, and Tom really are one hundred percent, totally fucking gay. They're not going to change for some random fangirl who happens to think she has a great rack. Danneel has pretty much the most perfect breasts in the world, and she hasn't converted any of them yet. Conversely, Genevieve, Katie, Chris, and Steve will flirt, but they love Brayden almost as much as Jared and Jensen do, so propositioning them is another fruitless endeavor. Also, it's really fucking bad form.
“Of course I told her the rules. What, am I an idiot?” They both raise an eyebrow and Brayden's face falls while he lets a humorless laugh. “You guys are a laugh riot. Can I go back to my date now?”
They nod and when he's gone, Jared squeezes Jensen's hip and shakes his head. “Not our choice,” he reminds, like they've had this conversation a thousand times. Lately, it feels like they have.
Neither of them were so much saintly at Brayden's age, or for years after that, but that doesn't make it okay. In fact, it just reminds them that there were reasons they were constantly looking to bury themselves in someone else, and further drives home the point that Brayden has a few issues they can't help him fight through. It's easily Jared's least favorite part of parenting.
Dipping his head to resume where they left off, Jared is surprised when Jensen clutches a handful of his purple hair and exclaims, “Fuckin' hell, I gotta go!”
“You what?”
“Dude, I totally forgot I have to go pick up . . . something.”
“What something? The fuck're you talkin' about?” Jensen's been psyched about Jared's birthday for weeks. And it's not like him to skip out on their friends for anything.
“Just,” Jensen lunges forward to kiss him, quick and dirty. “Go eat. I'll be back.”
He's gone before Jared can ask 'what the hell' again, and for a second, Jared considers following. How fucking weird is that?
Instead, he stands against the wall and watches his friends through the glass doors.
Jensen told him last night about the plans he'd made to host some huge, raging blow out at Trash for Jared's birthday. He'd reserved the club, and they were going to shut down, on a Saturday night, to accommodate Jared and about three hundred of his closest friends and business acquaintances. It probably would have made TMZ and a few other gossip sites, judging from the A-list guests Jensen was throwing around in his description.
In the end, though, he scrapped it all and went with a backyard barbecue – family only. Jared can't express how glad he is that Jensen made the switch. He would have had a good time at the other party, no doubt. But it would have been because these people were there, partying with him. Not because of the celebrities and the hot location.
This? He pushes through the door and heads over to the food and his friends. This is his idea of a celebration.
It's nearly seven when Jensen rolls his bike into the garage. Brayden is showing Brandy (with a 'Y') the new rims he put on his bike last weekend, and Jensen barely nods in their direction as he heads into the house and directly up the stairs.
He stressed for months over what to get Jared for his big birthday, trying to figure out what he could do that would stand out, that Jared wouldn't soon forget. He's talked to everyone they know, gathered ideas, and racked his brain for the perfect thing.
And then he dropped by Slinging Ink one night to see if Jared was about ready to head home. Fifteen minutes into a conversation with Genevieve, it punched him square in the head. Obviously.
Pulling it off was no easy feat. He had to get away from Jared and over to Katie's place at some point during the party. Then he had to wait for her to do the same. She showed up, helped Jensen pick exactly the right one, and then ran back to the house before anyone noticed she was gone too long. Then he had to find something else to do for an hour or so, in the hopes that no one would catch on to their plan. And by 'no one', he means 'Jared'.
The party's still going strong in the backyard while Jensen lays the gift-wrapped box on Jared's pillow and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He texts two words (Bedroom. Now.) and then sits back to wait.
Jared doesn't disappoint, thundering up the stairs and looking a little more worried for wear than he did when Jensen left. “The fuck have you been?” he demands.
Jensen doesn't say anything, only nods to the box on Jared's pillow.
Taking the cue, Jared sits on Jensen's side of the bed, the one closest to the door, and reaches over to pluck the box from its place. He tears the silver ribbon off and opens the box, eyebrow arching up to his hairline. “This is the tackiest goddamn thing I've ever seen.” He holds the silicone cock ring on his finger, flicking at the little letters, spelling out “Happy Birthday” in a rainbow of colors along the top of it. “Seriously? Why don't we just call the party my present and be happy with that?”
Jensen shakes his head, but still says nothing.
“Alright, what the fuck is going on with,” Jared starts to ask, eyes drifting around the room like something's going to jump out of the bathroom or closet at him.
Without waiting for Jared to look at him, Jensen drops to the floor and works the button on Jared's shorts. Though he's still asking what the hell Jensen thinks he's doing, and why the fuck this can't wait, he raises his hips and helps Jensen rid him of his clothing.
“Come on, man. Seriously?” he asks, when Jensen slides the snug, blue ring into place and smirks as his thumb skims the top of the letters. “Jen, I don't know if now is the best time,” he starts.
But then Jensen catches his eyes. And slowly, so painfully slow it's like time might be stopping, he opens his mouth. The silver bar that Jared's been hinting at wanting him to get for years lays in the center of his tongue, catching the light and glinting so it almost seems to be winking.
For a full minute, Jared just stares, mouth gaping while his dick hardens and his eyes fix, with laser-focus, on the little silver ball. “I can't believe you,” he shakes his head finally and rakes his fingers through his hair. “This is . . . and you did . . . for me . . . “
Clearing his throat, Jensen licks his lips and cringes a little at the heightened sensation in his mouth. It's going to take a couple of weeks for it to heal, but it doesn't really hurt so much right now, and Katie told him to use it today, if he feels like it, because there's no way he's going to want to for the next week. It's a little swollen right now, but the next few days are going to be exponentially worse.
It's probably going to hurt, but Jensen knows that he can't just spring something like this on Jared and then not try it out. That's just cruel and unusual punishment.
“Alright, here's the deal. I don't know how this is gonna go down,” Jensen admits, hands climbing up Jared's thighs as he pushes them apart and scoots in closer. “It's a little numb, so my technique might be off,” he goes on.
Jared wraps a hand around the back of his neck and shakes his head. “Dude, I don't fuckin' care if you slobber like a fuckin' puppy,” he assures and tugs until Jensen gets the message and raises up a little.
The kiss is uncomfortable. Jared's tongue sliding against his is too much, and Jensen almost calls the whole thing off. But the whimper and the groan and the way Jared's hips move from just this? He can't give up. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't now.
He sinks back down and strokes his fist along Jared's shaft, the ball on the bottom of his tongue clinking against his teeth. It's going to take some getting used to, but if Jared loves it as much as he thinks he's going to, it's going to be worth it in the end.
Tentatively, he lays his tongue flat against the base of Jared's cock and drags the tip, along with the silver ball, in a slow stripe to the head. Jared's hand clutches the back of Jensen's neck and his head falls back as he groans, low and loud.
The nerve endings in Jensen's mouth are too sensitive, and it hurts to press too hard with his tongue against Jared's dick, but when he angles his face, squeezes his fist, and pushes the ball under the ridge of the head, Jared's hips thrust forward and lets out a, “Fucking Christ, Jen.” And Jensen forces his own pain down to do it again.
Some things work, some don't get much of a reaction, but Jensen spends a good ten minutes learning which is which by the sounds Jared is making. Pressing the ring against the slit earns him a whimper of pain, but pulling the head into his mouth and soothing it with the lazy point of his tongue seems to help immensely. With the swelling, he can't suck much without gagging, but he strips Jared's cock slow with one hand and uses the other to stroke circles around his hole. Judging from the string of curses and the bucking of Jared's hips, it makes up for the awkward blow job.
“Come on, Jen,” Jared finally manages, face and neck flushed red from the exertion.
Jensen crawls back onto the bed and presses his thigh hard between Jared's legs. “You wanna come for me, man?” he asks, fingers fumbling to loose the ring.
“Since you opened your mouth, fucker,” is Jared's response. Hence the cock ring.
When he's thrown the ridiculous thing they'll never use again over the side of the bed, Jensen grabs Jared's hand and wraps them both around his cock. “Happy Birthday, Jay,” he groans, sealing their mouths together and running the warm metal ball along the roof of Jared's mouth while their hands work together to bring him over the edge.
Jared slumps back against the mattress, boneless, and Jensen takes a second to steady himself. Jared will take care of him later, when there's not a crowd of people waiting downstairs to tease them for disappearing. When everyone's done making all sorts of inappropriate comments about Jensen's new jewelry. When they're alone, and able to take their time with each other. He's okay with that, and the throbbing feeling in his tongue is intense enough to overpower the waning erection anyway.
“You can't fall asleep,” Jensen reminds, patting Jared's thigh as he stands. “Come on. Clean yourself up and we'll get back to your party.”
“You clean me up,” Jared mumbles sleepily. “My birthday. Your mess.”
“Ain't my mess dryin' on your stomach, Stretch,” Jensen points out. “'Sides, I gotta rinse my mouth out. Unless you want it to get infected. Which, ya know, means we have to take the bar out.”
Jared's off the bed like a shot, smacking Jensen's ass on his way into the bathroom to grab a rag. “Be rude to leave my guests down there while I take a nap anyway,” he winks when he catches Jensen's eye in the mirror.
Preparing a cap of non-alcoholic mouthwash, Jensen shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know. They'd probably understand. I mean, you're all old and stuff now.”
Snapping a towel against the back of Jensen's thigh, Jared grabs his hip with one hand and bites softly at his shoulder. “Thank you, Jen. This has been an awesome birthday.”
He won't say it, but Jensen knows how much it means to Jared to have a day totally dedicated to him. He hates too much attention, but there's also a part of him that loves knowing that people care enough to make his existence a priority. It's not something he had before Jensen came along, but if Jensen has anything to say about it, it's not something he's ever going to go without again.
After dropping a kiss on the side of Jensen's neck, Jared dresses himself and heads back down to the party. He knows damn well how uncomfortable what they just did was for Jensen. It's his business to know the ins and outs of that kind of shit. That he would do it anyway, without so much as a hesitation? That he fucking planned for it? Means too fucking much to put into words.
He's walking through the kitchen when his eyes catch on something at the island. A quick detour around the counter, a closer look, reveals that it's a plain, white envelope with an artistic grafitti that simply says Jay.
The card inside is store bought and screams so much of the sender that Jared doesn't even have to open the damn thing to know it's from Brayden. He opens it anyway, though, and finds himself choking on a sudden, unexpected round of emotion.
Under the sarcastic punchline, in a simple scrawl that's barely legible, are the words Happy Birthday, Jay. Even though you're old and shit now, I'm glad you're my dad. Love, Bray.
Jared knows that the only reason the kid left it here is so that they won't have to talk about it again. He won't press the issue. Just reading it is enough.
“Hey,” Jensen speaks quietly, and Jared realizes that he didn't even hear the guy approach. “You okay?”
Sometimes, that's a hard question to answer, but today? He turns, bright, genuine smile and slightly-glassy eyes. “I'm awesome.” His stomach growls and they both laugh. “And fucking starving.”
“You didn't eat while I was gone?”
Jared throws his arm around Jensen's shoulder and shrugs. “Yeah, but that was, like, an hour ago. Dude, I'm a growing boy.”
Rolling his eyes, Jensen tucks his hand into the back pocket of Jared's baggy cargo shorts and lets himself be led back outside. “Not a boy anymore. You're thirty now, Jay. Standin' at the top of the goddamn hill. It's all over from here, man.”
Jared laughs but doesn't say anything. If he did, he would ask Jensen, if it's all over from here, why does it feel like his life's just starting to get really fucking good?
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