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ladyjanellyTitle: Re-cast (scar!verse) ch 6/?
Author: Ladyjanelly
Rating: R
Characters: Jensen/Jared,
Summary: Jensen stopped acting in 2000. He still runs into Jared.
Warning: Men sexing men, AU.
Disclaimer: Never happened, not my boys.
Betaed by the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misskatieleigh Thanks so much for the concrit and hand-holding.
Feedback: honestly curious what people think of this. Love it, hate it, either way, I'd love to know why.
Jared knows he’s in Jensen's living room, that there’s some detective show on the television that Jensen follows every week. The dogs are curled up in a corner, safe, happy and sleeping off their day of running around like wild Indians. There’s a half a delivery pizza in his stomach and the promise of a good night’s sleep ahead of him. Jensen's knees are sort of boney on either side of his ribs, and the carpet under his ass isn’t much padding.
None of that matters much though, because Jensen's sitting on the couch behind him and his hands are doing things to Jared’s shoulders and neck and scalp. Jen’s hands feel so good Jared’s sure he’s losing brain cells, or at least function. Jensen's work massage has nothing on Jensen's sensual, pleasure-oriented massage.
Then Jensen's breath ghosts across the top of his ear, followed by a brush of lips. The touch of the hands on his shoulders changes from a massage to a caress.
Jared twists around in the corral of Jen’s knees. Jensen leans down and Jared stretches up. Their kiss doesn’t stay tentative for long. Jared’s feeling like a supplicant worshiping at Jensen's feet. His hands hold onto denim-clad hips like Jen’ll slip away if they come apart.
Jensen's holding on too, palms cradling Jared’s face, fingers cupping the curve of his skull.
The kiss may not be chaste but it’s still slow. Jared loses track of passing time, loses himself in the taste and scent of Jensen, the slick of his tongue and the sharp of his teeth.
Jensen makes a strained noise and Jared realizes he’s been stroking him through his jeans. God, Jared wants, he aches for and not in a way he’s ever known before.
He pushes Jen’s chest until the other man leans back against the couch. Jared could live forever in those green eyes, in the look of awe that matches his own, in the sheen of sweat on Jen's forehead and the shine of spit on his lips. His fingers fumble on Jensen's button fly, and damn it, why aren’t these things illegal? Somebody should start a campaign, like a year ago.
He tugs and Jensen's hips lift and the pants come down, boxers and all. Jared shifts around enough to get them all the way off. Jensen's left in his shirt and glasses and white sport socks. It’s ridiculous how sexy it is, with his dick standing eager and half his clothes on the floor. He somehow seems more naked than he had been the night before.
“Let me, Jen,” Jared whispers, because he can smell Jensen's crotch, feel the warmth against his face and he’s not sure he can survive not tasting him this time.
“You gotta let me.”
Jensen's cock twitches and Jared’s thumbs slide down the creases between his thighs and hips. Jen makes a strangled noise and Jared dares to hope.
“Tell me--” Jared’s not sure how Jensen can manage to get words out, his throat sounds so tight. “Tell me I’m not fucking this up.” Jared wants Jensen begging, but not like this. “Tell me I’m not rushing this.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Jared drawls, not even trying to tone down the Texas in his voice. “I want you, but I’m not just thinkin’ with my dick here.”
The only part of Jensen he can look at without risk of losing it is his eyes, so Jared keeps them locked there.
“This, you, us--” Jared’s babbling, but how can Jen expect words at a moment like this? “It’s right, I know it is.”
Butterfly-light touches flutter against his cheek and he turns his head to press his lips to Jen's fingers. It dawns on Jared, that last night, Jen's hesitation, it hadn’t been to protect himself, it had been to protect this.
“Okay,” Jensen whispers, “Okay, yeah.”
And if that ain’t all the joys of Christmas packed into three words, Jared doesn’t know what could be. He stretches up again and takes Jensen's lips, slow but deep. He strokes his hands up the lean muscles of his torso, pushing his shirt up to his ribs. He licks and kisses his way down the center of Jen's lean stomach. Then, because he’s not cruel, opens his mouth and takes Jensen in, all the way in, in one smooth plunge.
Jensen's hips buck up into the sudden heat and moisture. Jared may not have a lot of practice at the whole gay thing, but he’s good at taking it deep and he knows how to make it sloppy-wet. He knows how to hold his lips over his teeth and press down so it’s tight.
He loves the noises Jensen's making above him, soft gasps and whimpers and other sounds that slip past where his teeth hold his lower lip. He gazes up and Jen looks like he’s tearing himself to pieces with his attempts at restraint, so tense like he doesn’t know how to let go.
Jared wants to get him drunk one day, see him free to do everything he’s trying to hold back. He guides Jensen's hand to his hair. It’s better to be touched than not, but the fingers are almost too light, not pushing or guiding, just riding along as Jared goes down on him.
He wants to make it last, to show how good he can be, but Jensen's too beautiful to resist when he’s like this. He tastes too sexy, feels too right at the back of his throat. Jared’s hand is scrambling for his own fly and then he’s hurrying to catch up with Jensen before it’s too late.
“Jare, Jare, Jare--” Jensen's whispering like other guys would call God, or maybe it’s a warning. Jared doesn’t pull back when Jen taps him on the shoulder, just presses his lips around the base of his cock and swallows.
Jensen's cum is hot and thick, too far back in his mouth to taste, and Jared almost chokes on it. It’s so real, Jensen filling all his senses, and Jared’s over the edge before he’s ready for it.
It takes Jared forever to come back to himself, but that’s okay. He can’t think of any place better, safer, to be than with his head on Jen's thigh, warm legs wrapped around his ribs and Jen's fingers petting and stroking hair.
---------
Monday’s shooting kicks Jared’s ass. He gets banged up and thrown to the ground. He scrambles across the set floor on his knees until they’re nothing but bruises.
He calls Jen once between takes, but he’s at work too and Jared talks to his voice mail. Texting is easier, and Jared feels like he’s fourteen and passing notes in class. A dose of silly is just what he needs though, so he’s not complaining.
They don’t’ see each other until Wednesday, when Jensen comes for Jared’s PT. Jensen's so normal then, so “Here’s the sheet, I’ll wait outside while you undress” that Jared doesn’t know what to do. He won’t even look Jared in the eye and yeah, that doesn’t feel good.
“Have I done something wrong?” He asks when Jen pulls away from his touch. “Are you mad at me?”
“No! No, Jared.” Jensen looks honestly shocked and that helps Jared feel a little better. “It’s just I’ve never been involved with a client before. I could lose my job, I--”
He looks so anguished that that Jared wants to hold him and it hurts to know that would only make it worse.
“It’s okay,” he interrupts, “I won’t--I’m sorry.”
“Come over tonight,” Jensen says, soft and serious and like he needs Jared to be there to be alright.
“It’ll be late,” Jared warns, because Sandy would have been pissed at him showing up at that time of night.
“I’m okay with that.”
The work Jen does on his back is just as good, just as competent as it’s ever been. The only difference is that Jared has known his touch as a lover and anything less leaves him feeling dissatisfied, after.
“I’m sorry,” Jen whispers as he rubs Jared’s neck one last time, in the closest to a caress he can seem to force himself into at work.
He goes back to the set afterwards, and he’s off, he knows he’s off. Filming runs until eleven. It’s midnight before Jared’s said goodbye to everyone and taken off his makeup and changed into his own clothes.
The WB’s driver leaves him on Jensen's doorstep at a quarter ‘til one in the morning and Jared hopes to God Jen hasn’t changed his mind. It’s cold and wet out, and he’s more tired than he can remember being in his life.
Jensen opens the door in his sleeping pants and a t-shirt, barefoot with a blanket around his shoulders. He’s bleary-eyed like he’s not wearing his contacts. He mutters something about “Freakin’ cold,” reaches out and drags Jared inside.
Steady hands unzip Jared’s jacket for him; they’re warm as they push the chilled fabric off his shoulders to the floor. Jared’s so exhausted that all he can do is lean in, let Jen lean him through the small apartment, undressing him as he goes. It feels vaguely blasphemous to leave his crap where it falls, like his momma’s gonna pop out from around a corner and thwap him with her wooden spoon.
His jacket stays by the front door; his outer shirt ends up on the coffee table; his jeans straggle down the hall. There’s nothing sexual about the way Jen's stripping him, and Jared’s just tired enough to be grateful.
“I can’t do it again,” Jared says as Jensen pulls the comforter over both of them, snuggles in warm around his back. He tries to just state the fact, but it comes out strained.
“Jare? Hey. What, what can’t you do?” Jensen's so gentle but Jared can still hear the fear in his voice and that’s not what he wanted at all.
“I can’t--I can’t be naked with you and not with you, Jen.” He’s not whining, really. Not about one wrong word from tears, not at all. “It felt like you were pissed at me or I’d done something terrible.”
“Shhh,” Jensen hushes him, stroking his hair, his face, his shoulders. “Shh, it’s okay. We’ll work it out tomorrow, Jared. I’m sorry,” he whispers, “so sorry.”
Jared fires somebody for the first time in his life on Thursday.
Okay, so maybe not fires, maybe more: makes a call to the girl who does the PT group’s scheduling and says that Wednesday doesn’t work for him anymore, and it has to be Monday now. Monday is Jen's busiest day, and Jared tells the nice girl he’s heartbroken to have to switch, and if Jensen ever needs a letter of recommendation for anything, to call him.
-------------
“It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.”
It’s Saturday evening, and they’re sitting at the breakfast bar in Jensen's house. Jensen's holding a copy of the newly revised script for Monday in his hand, but his eyes are focused somewhere past it.
“But there’s got to be something that you want for yourself,” Jared answers back, and he’s watching Jen out of the corner of his eye. He wants to stop, to say something about the change he’s witnessing, but he’s too afraid to break the moment.
He’d been worried about asking Jensen to read lines with him, reluctant to remind him that Jared was an “actor-type.” It was the only way they could spend time together and let Jared still be prepared for next weeks shooting though, so he’d dared it.
“Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam.”
Jensen may have started the read-through with the world’s flattest inflection and zero presence, but line by line he warms to it, hitting the character in ways Eric J. never had. His voice drops, deeper than his usual tone. Even his accent blurs, becoming more “anywhere” and less Texas.
“Jesus,” Jared blurts. Jensen glances down at the script, looking for the line. An expression of worried confusion flickers across his features.
“What, did I miss--” He blinks up at Jared. “What?” And as quick as that, Dean’s gone and he’s Jensen again.
“No, just--that was good, man.”
Jen laughs but it sounds like a recording, less natural than his Dean voice had been. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. The line of his scar flushes red, a Y-shaped beacon of his discomfort.
“I mean it,” Jared insists, trying to duck around and meet Jen's eyes. “Seriously, did you ever think about acting?”
Jensen looks down, like the words he wants to say are on the script he holds in his hands.
“My dad was an actor.” For a second, Jared wonders what kind of family mess he’s stepped into.
Jen's lips twitch; a smile tries to break free. “We went to church with Chuck Norris, and I did some modeling when I was a kid. Catalog shots, mostly. So yeah, thinking about acting was sort of mandatory.”
“And?” Jared prompts, bumping their shoulders together.
Jensen shrugs. “I dabbled for a while, it wasn’t my thing, I moved on.” He gestures with the script. “You want to run through it again or go get dinner?”
“Oooh,” Jared says with a grin. “Dinner?” He doesn’t mind playing up his enthusiasm if it keeps Jensen smirking like that. He knows a distraction when he sees one, and that acting stuff has to be good for something besides a paycheck.
Author: Ladyjanelly
Rating: R
Characters: Jensen/Jared,
Summary: Jensen stopped acting in 2000. He still runs into Jared.
Warning: Men sexing men, AU.
Disclaimer: Never happened, not my boys.
Betaed by the lovely
misskatieleigh Thanks so much for the concrit and hand-holding. Feedback: honestly curious what people think of this. Love it, hate it, either way, I'd love to know why.
Jared knows he’s in Jensen's living room, that there’s some detective show on the television that Jensen follows every week. The dogs are curled up in a corner, safe, happy and sleeping off their day of running around like wild Indians. There’s a half a delivery pizza in his stomach and the promise of a good night’s sleep ahead of him. Jensen's knees are sort of boney on either side of his ribs, and the carpet under his ass isn’t much padding.
None of that matters much though, because Jensen's sitting on the couch behind him and his hands are doing things to Jared’s shoulders and neck and scalp. Jen’s hands feel so good Jared’s sure he’s losing brain cells, or at least function. Jensen's work massage has nothing on Jensen's sensual, pleasure-oriented massage.
Then Jensen's breath ghosts across the top of his ear, followed by a brush of lips. The touch of the hands on his shoulders changes from a massage to a caress.
Jared twists around in the corral of Jen’s knees. Jensen leans down and Jared stretches up. Their kiss doesn’t stay tentative for long. Jared’s feeling like a supplicant worshiping at Jensen's feet. His hands hold onto denim-clad hips like Jen’ll slip away if they come apart.
Jensen's holding on too, palms cradling Jared’s face, fingers cupping the curve of his skull.
The kiss may not be chaste but it’s still slow. Jared loses track of passing time, loses himself in the taste and scent of Jensen, the slick of his tongue and the sharp of his teeth.
Jensen makes a strained noise and Jared realizes he’s been stroking him through his jeans. God, Jared wants, he aches for and not in a way he’s ever known before.
He pushes Jen’s chest until the other man leans back against the couch. Jared could live forever in those green eyes, in the look of awe that matches his own, in the sheen of sweat on Jen's forehead and the shine of spit on his lips. His fingers fumble on Jensen's button fly, and damn it, why aren’t these things illegal? Somebody should start a campaign, like a year ago.
He tugs and Jensen's hips lift and the pants come down, boxers and all. Jared shifts around enough to get them all the way off. Jensen's left in his shirt and glasses and white sport socks. It’s ridiculous how sexy it is, with his dick standing eager and half his clothes on the floor. He somehow seems more naked than he had been the night before.
“Let me, Jen,” Jared whispers, because he can smell Jensen's crotch, feel the warmth against his face and he’s not sure he can survive not tasting him this time.
“You gotta let me.”
Jensen's cock twitches and Jared’s thumbs slide down the creases between his thighs and hips. Jen makes a strangled noise and Jared dares to hope.
“Tell me--” Jared’s not sure how Jensen can manage to get words out, his throat sounds so tight. “Tell me I’m not fucking this up.” Jared wants Jensen begging, but not like this. “Tell me I’m not rushing this.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Jared drawls, not even trying to tone down the Texas in his voice. “I want you, but I’m not just thinkin’ with my dick here.”
The only part of Jensen he can look at without risk of losing it is his eyes, so Jared keeps them locked there.
“This, you, us--” Jared’s babbling, but how can Jen expect words at a moment like this? “It’s right, I know it is.”
Butterfly-light touches flutter against his cheek and he turns his head to press his lips to Jen's fingers. It dawns on Jared, that last night, Jen's hesitation, it hadn’t been to protect himself, it had been to protect this.
“Okay,” Jensen whispers, “Okay, yeah.”
And if that ain’t all the joys of Christmas packed into three words, Jared doesn’t know what could be. He stretches up again and takes Jensen's lips, slow but deep. He strokes his hands up the lean muscles of his torso, pushing his shirt up to his ribs. He licks and kisses his way down the center of Jen's lean stomach. Then, because he’s not cruel, opens his mouth and takes Jensen in, all the way in, in one smooth plunge.
Jensen's hips buck up into the sudden heat and moisture. Jared may not have a lot of practice at the whole gay thing, but he’s good at taking it deep and he knows how to make it sloppy-wet. He knows how to hold his lips over his teeth and press down so it’s tight.
He loves the noises Jensen's making above him, soft gasps and whimpers and other sounds that slip past where his teeth hold his lower lip. He gazes up and Jen looks like he’s tearing himself to pieces with his attempts at restraint, so tense like he doesn’t know how to let go.
Jared wants to get him drunk one day, see him free to do everything he’s trying to hold back. He guides Jensen's hand to his hair. It’s better to be touched than not, but the fingers are almost too light, not pushing or guiding, just riding along as Jared goes down on him.
He wants to make it last, to show how good he can be, but Jensen's too beautiful to resist when he’s like this. He tastes too sexy, feels too right at the back of his throat. Jared’s hand is scrambling for his own fly and then he’s hurrying to catch up with Jensen before it’s too late.
“Jare, Jare, Jare--” Jensen's whispering like other guys would call God, or maybe it’s a warning. Jared doesn’t pull back when Jen taps him on the shoulder, just presses his lips around the base of his cock and swallows.
Jensen's cum is hot and thick, too far back in his mouth to taste, and Jared almost chokes on it. It’s so real, Jensen filling all his senses, and Jared’s over the edge before he’s ready for it.
It takes Jared forever to come back to himself, but that’s okay. He can’t think of any place better, safer, to be than with his head on Jen's thigh, warm legs wrapped around his ribs and Jen's fingers petting and stroking hair.
---------
Monday’s shooting kicks Jared’s ass. He gets banged up and thrown to the ground. He scrambles across the set floor on his knees until they’re nothing but bruises.
He calls Jen once between takes, but he’s at work too and Jared talks to his voice mail. Texting is easier, and Jared feels like he’s fourteen and passing notes in class. A dose of silly is just what he needs though, so he’s not complaining.
They don’t’ see each other until Wednesday, when Jensen comes for Jared’s PT. Jensen's so normal then, so “Here’s the sheet, I’ll wait outside while you undress” that Jared doesn’t know what to do. He won’t even look Jared in the eye and yeah, that doesn’t feel good.
“Have I done something wrong?” He asks when Jen pulls away from his touch. “Are you mad at me?”
“No! No, Jared.” Jensen looks honestly shocked and that helps Jared feel a little better. “It’s just I’ve never been involved with a client before. I could lose my job, I--”
He looks so anguished that that Jared wants to hold him and it hurts to know that would only make it worse.
“It’s okay,” he interrupts, “I won’t--I’m sorry.”
“Come over tonight,” Jensen says, soft and serious and like he needs Jared to be there to be alright.
“It’ll be late,” Jared warns, because Sandy would have been pissed at him showing up at that time of night.
“I’m okay with that.”
The work Jen does on his back is just as good, just as competent as it’s ever been. The only difference is that Jared has known his touch as a lover and anything less leaves him feeling dissatisfied, after.
“I’m sorry,” Jen whispers as he rubs Jared’s neck one last time, in the closest to a caress he can seem to force himself into at work.
He goes back to the set afterwards, and he’s off, he knows he’s off. Filming runs until eleven. It’s midnight before Jared’s said goodbye to everyone and taken off his makeup and changed into his own clothes.
The WB’s driver leaves him on Jensen's doorstep at a quarter ‘til one in the morning and Jared hopes to God Jen hasn’t changed his mind. It’s cold and wet out, and he’s more tired than he can remember being in his life.
Jensen opens the door in his sleeping pants and a t-shirt, barefoot with a blanket around his shoulders. He’s bleary-eyed like he’s not wearing his contacts. He mutters something about “Freakin’ cold,” reaches out and drags Jared inside.
Steady hands unzip Jared’s jacket for him; they’re warm as they push the chilled fabric off his shoulders to the floor. Jared’s so exhausted that all he can do is lean in, let Jen lean him through the small apartment, undressing him as he goes. It feels vaguely blasphemous to leave his crap where it falls, like his momma’s gonna pop out from around a corner and thwap him with her wooden spoon.
His jacket stays by the front door; his outer shirt ends up on the coffee table; his jeans straggle down the hall. There’s nothing sexual about the way Jen's stripping him, and Jared’s just tired enough to be grateful.
“I can’t do it again,” Jared says as Jensen pulls the comforter over both of them, snuggles in warm around his back. He tries to just state the fact, but it comes out strained.
“Jare? Hey. What, what can’t you do?” Jensen's so gentle but Jared can still hear the fear in his voice and that’s not what he wanted at all.
“I can’t--I can’t be naked with you and not with you, Jen.” He’s not whining, really. Not about one wrong word from tears, not at all. “It felt like you were pissed at me or I’d done something terrible.”
“Shhh,” Jensen hushes him, stroking his hair, his face, his shoulders. “Shh, it’s okay. We’ll work it out tomorrow, Jared. I’m sorry,” he whispers, “so sorry.”
Jared fires somebody for the first time in his life on Thursday.
Okay, so maybe not fires, maybe more: makes a call to the girl who does the PT group’s scheduling and says that Wednesday doesn’t work for him anymore, and it has to be Monday now. Monday is Jen's busiest day, and Jared tells the nice girl he’s heartbroken to have to switch, and if Jensen ever needs a letter of recommendation for anything, to call him.
-------------
“It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.”
It’s Saturday evening, and they’re sitting at the breakfast bar in Jensen's house. Jensen's holding a copy of the newly revised script for Monday in his hand, but his eyes are focused somewhere past it.
“But there’s got to be something that you want for yourself,” Jared answers back, and he’s watching Jen out of the corner of his eye. He wants to stop, to say something about the change he’s witnessing, but he’s too afraid to break the moment.
He’d been worried about asking Jensen to read lines with him, reluctant to remind him that Jared was an “actor-type.” It was the only way they could spend time together and let Jared still be prepared for next weeks shooting though, so he’d dared it.
“Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam.”
Jensen may have started the read-through with the world’s flattest inflection and zero presence, but line by line he warms to it, hitting the character in ways Eric J. never had. His voice drops, deeper than his usual tone. Even his accent blurs, becoming more “anywhere” and less Texas.
“Jesus,” Jared blurts. Jensen glances down at the script, looking for the line. An expression of worried confusion flickers across his features.
“What, did I miss--” He blinks up at Jared. “What?” And as quick as that, Dean’s gone and he’s Jensen again.
“No, just--that was good, man.”
Jen laughs but it sounds like a recording, less natural than his Dean voice had been. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. The line of his scar flushes red, a Y-shaped beacon of his discomfort.
“I mean it,” Jared insists, trying to duck around and meet Jen's eyes. “Seriously, did you ever think about acting?”
Jensen looks down, like the words he wants to say are on the script he holds in his hands.
“My dad was an actor.” For a second, Jared wonders what kind of family mess he’s stepped into.
Jen's lips twitch; a smile tries to break free. “We went to church with Chuck Norris, and I did some modeling when I was a kid. Catalog shots, mostly. So yeah, thinking about acting was sort of mandatory.”
“And?” Jared prompts, bumping their shoulders together.
Jensen shrugs. “I dabbled for a while, it wasn’t my thing, I moved on.” He gestures with the script. “You want to run through it again or go get dinner?”
“Oooh,” Jared says with a grin. “Dinner?” He doesn’t mind playing up his enthusiasm if it keeps Jensen smirking like that. He knows a distraction when he sees one, and that acting stuff has to be good for something besides a paycheck.
