phaballa (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} phaballa) wrote,@ 2007-08-09 15:52:00 |
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| Entry tags: | fic, going to hell, project mayhem, rps |
Fic: Manny and the Beast | CW RPS | Jensen/Jared
or, A Tale of Two Nannies (Only One of Which We Care About)
or, Jensen, the Lonely Goatherd
Fandom: CW RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: Adult. And everyone is over 18 years old. And consenting.
Disclaimer: Never happened, never will, they're not gay, blah blah.
Comments: I just want to thank
madame_d and wendy for being awesome and really kicking my ass on this. It wouldn't be half as good (or as long!) without you guys. Written for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
spn_harlequin with the prompt: For Amy Logan, living with wildly attractive widower Dan Major for the past three years was a fantasy come true...even if it was only as nanny to his six-year-old daughter. But now Dan had just stunned her with a proposal every woman dreams of-and one she couldn't possibly accept. Dan needed a wife, and Amy seemed the ideal candidate. All he had to do was make her fall in love with him. But Amy had other ideas. Wanted: One young woman to take care of four-year-old boy. Must be cheerful, enthusiastic, and selfless--bordering on masochistic. Must relish sixteen-hour shifts with a deliberately nap-deprived preschooler. Must love getting thrown up on, literally and figuratively, by everyone in his family. Must enjoy the delicious anticipation of ridiculously erratic pay. Mostly, must love being treated like fungus found growing out of employer's Hermes bag. Those who take it personally need not apply. -The Nanny Diaries
Back when he first put his resume up with the agency during his last few weeks of college, even though he maybe should've been studying for exams and revising his final papers, Jared read The Nanny Diaries to get some kind of idea of what he was getting himself into. It seemed like a really shit job, he thought, half babysitter, half beleaguered PA, but he didn't really have anything else going on and there wasn't much of a call for kids with degrees in philosophy with minors in Latin in the commercial job market, so nannying it was. Charleston was the perfect place for it, too, full of rich people with tall pink houses in the city and big pink houses on the beach who all felt pressured by the whole southern culture thing to get married young and have lots of tiny rich babies they wouldn't have the time or energy to deal with on their own.
Getting a job turned out to be a lot easier than Jared thought it would be. He showed up where the agency told him, a tall, pale yellow three-story on Queen Street just a few blocks from Waterfront Park with a wrought-iron gate blocking the sidewalk and a buzzer to get in. Jared wasn't sure what, exactly, he was expecting—a Jackie-O wannabe who'd had more plastic surgery than Michael and Janet Jackson combined, maybe—but Jensen Ackles really wasn't it.
For one thing, he was hot. Also, young. But mostly, really, blindingly hot. The kids barely registered in Jared's mind. They were kids, and kid-shaped—small and probably they had hair and eyes and things—but all Jared could see was the really fucking hot guy answering the door.
"You're not a nun," Ackles said, which actually made no sense at all, but it hardly mattered, because—hot.
"Um, no. Why would I be a nun?"
Ackles shrugged. "I thought the agency would send someone, you know. Appropriate. Like a nun. It'd be like The Sound of Music. You'd be all innocent and shy and make my kids ugly play clothes out of curtains, and I'd be the gruff-yet-loving father who needed the sweet, innocent nun to remind him of the good old days. There would be singing and puppet shows and evil Baronesses and more singing. Then we'd get married and have to flee the country because of all the Nazis."
"Um," said Jared, and okay so, this Ackles guy was maybe super hot, but also? Off his fucking rocker. "I'm not a nun," Jared said after a minute. "But I can pretend, if it would get me the job."
"Into role-play, huh?" Ackles said, and let him in.
*
In the nearly three years since Jared took the job with the Ackles family, he's learned a lot about the ways in which taking care of kids involves very little actual child care. Children are messy and gross and are constantly getting crap all over their clothing and themselves and him. Jared learned on the first day never to wear his favorite, ass-flattering, most comfortable pair of Diesels around the kids, pretty much ever, because as soon as he likes any article of clothing, they find a way to fuck it up. Usually this involves mud, yoghurt, gum, or a combination of all three. Jared has tried to ban the illicit substances in the past, but then they cry because Jared won't let them make mud pies and they still don't believe him about how eating dirt will give them worms. Jared's a sucker for crying kids. Mostly because they produce so much damned snot, which, of course, he then has to clean off of faces and clothing. He'd almost rather they get worms.
So Jared never ended up having to pretend to be a nun after all, which was kind of a relief because he doesn't actually know how to sew anything except for hems and patches, much less ugly, used-to-be-curtains play clothes, and those nun outfits look seriously uncomfortable. Jared's hair likes to breathe, thank you, and there's no way he'd be willing to wear a veil at all times, especially to signify a marriage to a guy he'd never get to fuck. Jared's not so keen on the whole virgin-bride-of-Christ deal. Like, Jesus is a pretty hot guy for a carpenter, good with his hands and a seriously connected family and all, but Jared hasn't been a virgin since the dress rehearsal for Pippin his sophomore year of high school, so he's pretty sure he doesn't qualify. No nunning for Jared. Instead, Jensen just showed him around the house, called his references, and introduced him to the kids—GiGi and Fabian: bad names, cute kids—and Jared's pretty much been here ever since.
A typical day goes something like this: wake up, get the kids ready for the day, eat, mess around, run errands, eat some more, go on a play date, eat some more, go to bed. Okay, well, maybe not. When Jared was a kid, his mom just sent him outside on his bike to play with his friends, but kids—or at least, rich kids—are really, really different today. They do more during the day than Jared did when he was in college taking classes and doing work study, and that's when he includes 'beer drinking' and 'partying' as two separate activities.
The kids are almost old enough to get themselves dressed now. GiGi is four and Fabian just turned six, so they can definitely get their clothes on by themselves unless complicated snaps or zippers are involved, but GiGi has an absolutely atrocious sense of style and can't be counted on to match anything if she chooses her own clothing, and Fabian still doesn't understand why he can't just go around in his Underoos all the time.
"Because they're underwear," Jared has explained many, many times. "As in, the stuff you wear under your clothing."
"But if I don't wear them on the outside, how will everyone know I'm Superman?"
"They're not supposed to know. It's a secret identity. As in, you know. Secret!"
After the inevitable clothing debacles and convincing GiGi that no, stripes and plaid really, really don't match, there's breakfast with Jensen before he has to leave for his office, from which, Jared assumes, he runs his porn and sex-toy empire with a little more poise than he does his family. Jared has seen Jensen giving interviews on television for various gay rights organizations, talking about his coming out experience and his wife's death and how it made him realize what a lie his life was, blah blah. Jared doesn't particularly care about Jensen's former life as a pretending-to-be-straight, corporate CEO guy before he discovered his passion for butt sex and gay porn, but the interviews only prove that somewhere inside Jensen there's a halfway normal gay guy who doesn't have a panic attack about the safety of his kids every five seconds.
Unfortunately, Jared hardly ever gets to see that guy in person, so breakfast is usually spent with Jensen explaining for the millionth time to Jared that he is not to allow the kids' pictures to be taken at all costs (because, you know, there are so many paps just hanging around in Charleston, Jared is sure) and maybe they should think about hiring a bodyguard in case of kidnappings and does Jared really think the public library is a safe place to take them?
"Well, it's illegal to carry a concealed weapon in the building, so it's probably safer than anywhere else in the city," Jared always tells him.
"Thanks, Jared. That makes me feel so much better."
The good thing about working for a gay guy who works too much is that Jensen doesn't have time to go to a gym to work out, so he has his own personal trainer instead, who doubles as the cook because "working out is useless if I'm just going to put crap right back in." Margarita is pretty fabulous, in Jared's opinion. She has the best abs he's seen pretty much ever and she makes a fantastic mojito.
After breakfast Jared lets the kids watch whatever annoying and/or frightening children's television program they're into at the moment while he throws the laundry in the washer and collects the breakfast dishes, sticks them in the dishwasher. Margarita is awesome and she does has fabulous abs, but she doesn't do dishes, ever, and the maid only comes once a week, so. That only takes a few minutes, and then Jared can go watch Barry the Rapping Bear or Reading Rainbow or whatever else the kids have decided on. If he's really unlucky, they'll be watching Teletubbies, which Jared thinks must have been invented by someone who was high out of their minds, because drugs are seriously the only thing that could ever help this show make sense. The laughing baby-headed sun really freaks him out.
Then Jared piles them all into the Prius, straps GiGi in her car seat while Fabian complains loudly about having to sit in the back even though he's way grown up now and not a baby and why does he have to sit in the back because he's almost a first grader now, but Jared just turns the radio up and pointedly ignores him while GiGi sings along loudly in the seat next to him, "Something something REHAB NO NO NO!" She really loves that song. Jared thinks it's just because she likes screaming "NO!" at the top of her lungs as much as possible. Lately she's taken to doing it when the song isn't on at all.
"GiGi, come on, it's time for bed," Jared will say.
"They try to make me go for bedtime but I said NO NO NO!" GiGi's pretty much a musical genius, Jared thinks, making up parodies at the age of four. As long as she doesn't understand what that song is actually about though, he doesn't think Jensen needs to know.
Jared's favorite part of the day is after television time, usually, because he gets to drop the kids off at the Sylvan Learning Center for tutoring—Jensen thinks his kids need to know how to speak French and Spanish, which aren't exactly offered at their school, even if it is for little rich kids. He gets to leave them at Sylvan and fuck off to the bookstore or the coffee shop for an hour, it's really nice. Usually he goes to the coffee shop on the corner down on Meeting Street even though it's not a Starbucks and they're kind of snooty and mean to the customers. But there's a really cute barista boy Jared likes to flirt with who sometimes works that shift. The coffee isn't even as good as Starbucks, but it's all worth it if Jared can get the barista boy to smile at him. Although sadly, Barista Boy's smile resembles more of a sneer and he tends to stare at Jared like he's the gunk underneath the refrigerator, but whatever, he's hot, so Jared doesn't really mind.
After that it's back to the house for lunch, which Jared usually has to make and so mostly consists of sandwiches because even that pretty much exceeds Jared's skills in the kitchen. He can use a microwave and make things from boxes, actually, but Jensen has this weird thing about not trusting chemicals that don't come from the health food store even though Jared has explained several times that health food stores mainly sell speed, but Jensen never listens to Jared, really, so sandwiches it is.
If it's not raining, Jared usually takes the kids down to Waterfront Park after lunch. GiGi likes to run up and down the long pier, back and forth until she gets tired and flops down on one of the bench swings, while Fabian hangs his head over the low barrier gate at the end of the pier to stare down at the ocean. Jared never really gets over the fact that they live two blocks from the ocean. The fucking ocean. He can stand next to Fabian and just see water going forever in the distance, interrupted only by the tiny islands that make up Charleston itself, and Fort Sumter a few miles out to see. If it's really hot out, he'll let them run through the fountains even though that means more laundry later, and if it's really, really hot, Jared will run through the fountains with them.
And then it's running errands for Jensen—picking up his dry cleaning and stocking up his liquor cabinet and whatever else Jensen needs. For a while, back when Jared first started, this mostly involved choosing expensive gifts for a long string of very hot guys Jensen dated, but apparently none of them turned out because Jared only got to choose once per guy, and he never met any of them. Nowadays Jensen doesn't really date anymore, but Jared is of the opinion that he should probably start, or at least try to get some action that doesn't involve his own hand and a bottle of lube, because lately Jared has caught Jensen staring at Jared's ass like, well. Like he maybe wants to fuck it. And if Jensen is resorting to fantasizing about the nanny, Jared thinks, he really needs to get out and meet some people.
Finally, they head back home for dinner with Jensen, who sometimes has to go back to his office afterward or to some other business function—a dinner or an art show or once, the Gay Porn Awards. Jared begged Jensen to bring him as his date, but Jensen refused to get a babysitter so the nanny could drool over porn stars, so Jared was cruelly denied. He's never going to meet Hunter James, damnit, and it's just not fair. He's totally Hunter's type, too. Jensen is a crusher of gay porn dreams.
"Hunter James won't even be there, you stalker," Jensen had told him, but to this day, Jared still thinks he was lying. He probably just wanted Hunter for himself.
*
They spend most of the weekends in the summer and into the fall at Jensen's house on the Isle of Palms, which Jared personally thinks is a way cooler house than the showplace on Queen's Street, especially since the furniture is all rustic chic and already looks slightly broken-down, so Jared doesn't have to do nearly as much yelling about shoes indoors and feet on tables and no drinks in the living room, ever. It's the kind of house that kids can run around in their wet bathing suits in and they don't need to worry about keeping anything nice. Jensen never invites outsiders to the beach house.
Since Jared doesn't know how to cook and Jensen refuses to spend his weekends standing over a stove, they eat most of their meals out at one of the beachfront restaurants within walking distance of the house—the One Eyed Parrot or Coconut Joes, which GiGi and Fabian like best because they can wear their swimsuits and no shoes as long as they sit out on the deck.
Jared is teaching Fabian how to wakeboard, mostly because he got a new board from Jensen out of it, but it's also pretty fun. At the beginning of the summer, he took Fabian over to the Surf Shack to pick out boards, and in between informational lectures about board care and safety, Jared managed to get the cute shop boy's phone number, but he turned out to be a really annoying bottom-only, so that didn't end up working out in the long run. Plus, his blowjobs were only mediocre at best, which really surprised Jared. You'd think surfers would learn how to hold their breath better.
But summer's almost over now and Fabian's gotten really good at the wakeboarding. He hardly needs pointers at all now, so Jared takes a few turns in the water before settling on his towel with his board tossed carelessly in the sand to watch as Fabian rides the waves in or glides horizontally across the beach, sending up showers of water over GiGi's meticulously sculpted sand castle.
"It's not a castle," she tells him when he goes over to help her rebuild the turret that Fabian's waves destroyed. "It's a palace like the one the queen had."
"Oh right. That one, obviously," Jared says, grinning. "Uh, which queen was that?"
"You know. The fancy one. The one who got her head cut off! With the cake!"
"Um," says Jared. He piles more sand onto the tower.
"We learned all about it with Madame Renaldo in French class," GiGi says.
Fabian glides by and hops off his board, lets it skid up the beach a few feet so he can stand over the castle—palace, whatever—and examine it carefully, frowning a little and making hmming noises, like he's inspecting a house he's going to buy. Jared has heard Jensen make the same noises into his cell to business associates several times.
"Nice palace," Fabian says finally. He points to the empty area in the center, which Jared assumes is some sort of courtyard. "Is that where we're building the guillotine?"
"Duh, stupid," GiGi says. "I'm gonna go get my Malibu Beach Barbie. She can be the queen because her head's already kind of falling off!"
She returns a few minutes later with her Malibu Beach Barbie, whose head is, indeed, just sort of dangling on its neck, and Jensen, who stares at the palace with a sort of horrified fascination. Fabian has attempted to build a make-shift guillotine out of sand, and there's a shell shard wedged at the top of the thing, which Fabian explains is for cutting off the queen's head.
Jensen sits down in the sand to watch, and Jared tries really hard not to notice how hot he is half-naked in just his swim trunks, but really, Jared's been trying to do that every summer for the past three years and pretty much failed every time, so he might as well just start enjoying the view, he thinks. It's a really nice view, and if Jensen's going to spend half his time staring at Jared's ass, Jared figures it's karma or something. Plus, Jensen's stomach is sort of hypnotic in its rippley goodness. Margarita the Trainer really knows her shit.
"Do you honestly approve of this," Jensen whispers as Fabian and GiGi arrange the doll for beheading.
"Dude, they're your kids. I'm pretty sure this freakishness is a genetic trait. I'm not the one teaching them about French history."
Jensen frowns and Jared tries not to notice how pouty and kissable that makes his mouth look. Well, he tries, just not very hard. Jensen has a really nice mouth, it's kind of undeniable.
"Maybe I should just have them doing Spanish. Probably the more useful of the two, right?" Jensen says.
"Well," Jared says, trying not to laugh at GiGi and Fabian arguing heatedly over who gets to be the executioner, "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition."
"I'm a terrible father," Jensen says as GiGi gleefully pulls the head off her doll.
*
So in the end, it turns out that being a nanny isn't anything like The Nanny Diaries. For one thing, there's no skanky husband having affairs left and right that Jared might be forced to keep quiet about and or use to blackmail his employers with; instead, he just has to deal with Jensen who, while hot as fucking hell, really is a train wreck in almost all other ways, but especially when it comes to his kids. He's one of those ultra-political power gays who has just enough money to attract the unfortunate attentions of gossip bloggers and paparazzi to become really paranoid and over-protective of his kids. Most of Jared's day is spent trying to reassure Jensen that social services is not on their way to take the kids and it's really, incredibly exhausting, especially after a night at Pantheon trying to pick up the cute boy dressed in drag who turned out to actually be a girl, which was pretty much the disappointment of a lifetime. Jared doesn't do vaginas. Not even for a really good drag king who knows how to work a strap on.
But whatever, Jared's over it. It's a new day, with new fires to put out, and Jared resists the urge to roll his eyes at Jensen over breakfast that morning during his newest freakout. Instead, he sticks his tongue out at Fabian across the table while GiGi pretends her strips of bacon are dolls and tries to dress them up in eggs before biting the heads off. It looks better than you'd think, and Jared wonders if maybe GiGi doesn't have a future as a gay man after all, if only for the bits. She certainly has a flair for egg fashions, anyway.
"Are you even listening, Jared?" Jensen's face is slowly turning a blotchy red and Jared frowns at him.
"Calm down, dude. You're gonna have another panic attack and get hives and then everyone at your meeting will think you're some sort of gross-looking freak and not want to buy your, um." Porn and sex toys and sex toy accessories, Jared thinks, but says, "Your eggs. No one wants to buy eggs from an ugly guy."
"I thought Daddy sold dildos," Fabian says, frowning. "And, um. Naked videos."
"Is Daddy an egg farmer now?" GiGi asks. "I like eggs."
"No, honey, I'm not an egg farmer. And Fabian, remember what I said about not talking about the dildos in company?" Jensen looks like he's about to start hyperventilating, although probably your six-year-old going on about sex toys isn't great for the nerves, so Jared can understand that.
"Jared's not company, Daddy," Fabian says. "Can I tell Mrs. Arbuckle that you're an egg farmer?" Fabian starts first grade next week and all he can talk about now is his teacher, Mrs. Arbuckle, who he hasn't even met yet, but has already decided he's going to marry, after Angelina Jolie, of course.
"Yeah, sure. But the point is—Jared, are you listening? The point is, I don't want social services coming over here because they saw some picture of me on one of those heinous websites coming out of one of my stores with a guy and, and assuming, well. You know."
"What's a dildo?" GiGi says. "Can you make eggs with it?"
"Sort of." Jared grins and makes a face at her until she giggles and starts shoving the bodies of her bacon-dolls into her mouth.
"I won't be the next Britney Spears!" Jensen says, eyes wild. "Do you know what will happen if my mother gets a hold of the kids? She'll brain wash them, Jared. She'll turn them into Baptists." Jensen says this like it's the worst thing that could possibly happen. Actually, Jared thinks, it is pretty bad. Baptists are scary, and also, really bad dressers. Or maybe that's Mormons. He can never tell them apart.
"Just don't shave your head or marry any back-up dancers and I'm sure you'll be fine," Jared says. "Although if you could hook me up with Justin Timberlake, that would be pretty sweet."
Jensen takes a few deep, calming breaths and waves his hands in front of his face to cool himself down. His face is still red, Jared thinks, but Jensen's not at the hives stage of panic yet, so they're still okay.
"D'you think Mrs. Arbuckle would want a dildo as a present? She could make breakfast with it and everything!"
"Actually," says Jensen, ignoring Fabian, who's making up a long list of things that Mrs. Arbuckle could do with her dildo which includes, but is not limited to, gardening and washing her car, "Actually, I was thinking that we should get married."
Jared chokes on his coffee from laughing so hard, and promptly falls out of his chair when GiGi starts jumping up and down on hers, yelling, "YAY, let's have a party! Let's celebrate with dildos!" and Fabian tells her sternly, "Don't be silly, dildos aren't toys, stupid face."
Jared hauls himself back into his chair, grinning and shaking his head as he finishes the last of his breakfast. "That's a good one, Jensen. Hilarious. Now they're all riled up and I'm the one that has to deal with them."
"But I'm not—"
"Come on, guys, let's get you dressed. We're going to the park today."
"Do you think Mrs. Arbuckle likes the park?" Fabian asks, jumping down from his chair.
"Mrs. Arbuckle is a dildo!" GiGi says. And that, Jared thinks as he leads them upstairs to get ready for the day, pretty much sums things up.
*
After lunch, Jared takes GiGi and Fabian over to North Meeting Street. There's a storytime deal at the public library and he knows Sandy will be there with the Mack kids, because Sandy never misses an opportunity to leave the heathens under the supervision of someone else and grab some time to herself. Jared settles GiGi and Fabian in the children's amphitheatre, telling them, "Be good and listen to the story and no asking about dildos, okay?" before leaving to find Sandy in her usual place, hiding in the math reference section with her smuggled-in Starbucks.
"Fucking finally," she says, handing over Jared's double mocha light, no whip, and shifting uncomfortably on her kick stool. Jared grins and sits down on the floor, takes a sip of coffee. Mmm, caffeine, how he loves it so.
"What's up, chica? The lesbians still treating you okay?"
"Oh, you know the Macks. Christ, I didn't realize that dykes were so freaking paranoid about their kids when I took this job. You'd think they'd be less concerned, considering that Jacob is, like, a rude little monster and Bailey is still trying to nurse. She's three! That's just gross. And wrong. She has teeth." Sandy shudders delicately and takes a long, fortifying gulp of coffee. "I have to be all, 'Stay away from my tits, kid!' It's so sick."
"Dude, I totally know what you mean. Um, not about the boob thing, you should really try to wean her or something. She's gonna be scarred for life if that shit continues. But talk about paranoid—Jensen was on the warpath this morning, going on and on about child protective services and bloggers and Britney Spears. Britney Spears, Sandy! And then! And then he goes, 'So that's why we should get married.' What a freak."
"He asked you to marry him?" Sandy says, eyes wide. "Jared, that's sort of hot. Can you stash me in the closet on your wedding night so I can watch?"
"Gross, don't be a perv, Sandy. He wasn't serious, anyway, he was just freaking out because Fabian wants to give his new teacher a dildo."
Sandy snorts. "Honestly. Fabian. Who names their kid that?"
"Only a complete and utter flaming queer."
"Oh, right," Sandy says, and giggles. "Wasn't he supposed to be straight when the kids were born? Wasn't he like, married and shit?"
Jared just rolls his eyes. "Typical in-denial married gay man trying to be all hetero. You know, the kind who finds himself in rest stop bathrooms sticking his dick through the glory hole who has to imagine Brad Pitt to get it up for his wife."
"Or. Or he does her from behind and closes his eyes. I bet he was the kind of guy who was all, 'Ooops, wrong hole, sorry about that!' I guess it's a good thing the wife bit the bullet, huh?"
"It got me this job, didn't it?" Jared says. "Thank god for freak plastic surgery disasters."
Sandy is silent for a moment, sipping her coffee and staring into space. "So he really asked you to marry him?" she says.
"He was in a when-good-popstars-go-bad anxiety frenzy," Jared says. "He didn't mean anything by it."
Sandy gives him a look. "Jared, how long have we known each other?"
"Almost three years."
"That's right. And as someone who's known you for a significant amount of time, can I just say—you're an idiot. I mean, the guy stares at your ass constantly. It's like his eyes are frigging glued there. And honey, you have a nice ass, but it's not the best I've seen. It's not even in the top ten."
"Whatever," Jared says, finishing up his coffee. "If Jensen is staring, it's because the man hasn't gotten laid in months."
"Or it's because he wants you, you retard. And he's hot, and rich. When a hot, rich guy wants to fuck you, Jared, you don't say no. You should know this shit by now!"
"Jensen's not like that. He was just freaking out, okay, and can we please stop talking about him fucking? We're in a library! And I haven't gotten laid in, like, days and days, so stop making my brain think about things."
"Your brain, or your dick?"
"Fuck you."
"Ha," Sandy says, grinning, "I think I'll leave that to Jensen."
*
Jared tries to put the conversation out of his mind, but while he's helping Margarita, make dinner that night—something that looks entirely too healthy for Jared to ever want it anywhere near his mouth, so it's a good thing he stashed a box of Kraft in the cupboards that he can sneak later, after everyone's gone to bed—he can't seem to stop thinking about it.
"He didn't mean it, right?" Jared says, stealing a slice of green pepper to nibble on. "I mean, he's freakishly paranoid and all the insanity is, like, rushing to his brain and making him say idiotic things."
"Maybe," Margarita says, "but he seemed sort of put out about your reaction during our session today. And he wanted to do extra glute work. He said something about, if only his ass weren't so flat, maybe then."
"His ass is kind of flat," Jared agrees. "But I mean, he wasn't serious. I know he's all super-political, HRC-loving, woo pride queer and all, but like. Marriage? Is that even legal in South Carolina?"
"Definitely not," Margarita says, chopping at an onion from as far away as she can and swearing when her eyes tear up anyway. "I'm pretty sure," she adds, dumping the onion in a sauce pan and wiping at her eyes, "that it's illegal to even think about gay marriage in this state."
"See, it makes no sense. It's not like I'm Fran Dresher—"
"Thank god," Margarita mutters, wincing.
"—or even, like, Maria Von Trapp. He's not in love with me, you know? He doesn't even look at me with lust in his eyes, which is totally freakish, by the way."
"You are pretty hot," Margarita agrees. "You have the floppy hair. Are you sure he doesn't look? Like, not even a tiny bit of lust?"
Jared ignores that pointedly, because it's just stupid and besides which, looking at his ass and looking at him are two totally different things. He's been working for Jensen for almost three years. If there was any chance they were going to fuck, it totally would've happened by now. Jared remembers the long line of hot guys which, okay, dried up pretty suddenly over a year ago, but still. He knows Jensen has zero willpower.
"He should marry you," Jared says, chewing thoughtfully on his stolen pepper. "You have a fabulous body. You'd actually look good in white, and we could do, like, pink and silver as your colors, that's so classic."
"Plus, a free supply of all the sex toys I could ever possibly want."
"Huh," Jared says, grinning, "maybe I should've said yes after all."
*
The worst thing about the summer, aside from the whole global warming, constant rain thing, is that there's nothing good on television. All his favorite shows are on hiatus and, okay, so maybe he watched Hidden Palms, but he's gay and it's Kevin Williamson, so he kind of had to, it's sort of a requirement or else they'll take away his gay card. Not that he'll ever make that mistake again, because seriously, if he wanted to watch a teen drama about a best friend's murder, he'd get out his season one DVDs of Veronica Mars, or better yet, Twin Peaks. At least that one has backwards-talking midgets. Summer hiatus sucks. This is the only justification Jared has for what he's doing right now, which is sitting down in front of Jensen's gigantic flat screen that pretty much takes up an entire wall to watch So You Think You Can Dance.
Jared is deeply immersed in the new Wade Robson routine, starring Lacy and Kameron as jungle cats or possibly hookers, Jared's not exactly sure but there's definitely spandex and growling involved, when Jensen flops down on the couch next to him and totally breaks his concentration.
"I can't believe you're actually watching this crap," Jensen says, searching for the remote and glaring when he spots it in Jared's hand. "Turn it to CNN, Anderson Cooper is doing a special on AIDS in Africa."
"Whatever, you don't care about AIDS in Africa, you just want to look at Anderson Cooper."
"I care! The AIDS epidemic is a serious threat and as a member of the gay political community—"
"Oh, here we go with the justifications."
"—as a member of the gay political community," Jensen says louder, completely drowning out the weird twangy jungle-hooker music, "it's important for me to be informed on these issues."
"And you think Anderson Cooper is hot."
"Well. He is."
"Maybe you should ask him to marry you," Jared says, grinning.
"Maybe you should go fuck yourself."
"I do still have that purple dildo you gave me instead of my Christmas bonus last year," Jared says thoughtfully, "but I think I'll pass. I want to see Neil do the rhumba."
They're silent for a while, watching the dancing and that stupid giantess Kat go on about how wonderful everyone is. Jared has to mute the television whenever Mary comes on, and it's during one of these times that Jensen clears his throat meaningfully and says, "So, um, about this morning. I think you should really just, you know. Just consider it."
"Consider what?"
"Getting married."
"Dude, we're not even dating. We've never had sex. What if you suck in bed? I'm not gonna just marry a guy because he's paranoid."
"No, seriously." Jensen snatches the remote away and shuts the television off in the middle of Neil dancing, which is so not cool because Neil is fucking gorgeous. Jared would maybe marry Neil without fucking him first, he's so good-looking. There's no way sex with him could be bad. Plus, he's really bendy.
"I was watching that and I don't think—"
And then Jensen's kissing him, which pretty much ruins the whole comeback he had planned because he can't really talk properly with Jensen's tongue in his mouth. Also, Jensen's tongue is in his mouth. It's pretty fucked up, and Jensen's, like, a seriously good kisser. Seriously good, and he's practically crawling into Jared's lap and licking his way inside Jared's mouth and it's, yeah. Wow. Maybe worth missing Neil for. Maybe.
Jensen leans back, breathing hard, and Jared makes a noise that is definitely not a whimper but shares a strong resemblance to one, because he is suddenly, blindingly hard and Jensen is in his lap and, yeah, Jensen's pretty hot. Definitely hot enough to fuck, except for the part where he's Jared's boss and a total nutjob.
"What're you. Dude. Get off me. This is like, totally unprofessional!" Jared doesn't take his hands off Jensen's hips though. It's just, they fit in his hands so nicely.
"Just think about it," Jensen says, sounding way calmer than is fair. "The kids already love you and I know you can take care of them. You're not going to send them to one of those scary Warriors for Jesus camps and brain wash them—"
"People don't really do that, Jensen."
"I've seen Jesus Camp, they really do. And I don't want my kids turning into that."
"Considering Fabian's dildo obsession, I think you're probably okay on that score."
"Jared," Jensen says, and he looks seriously desperate and deadly serious. "I'm just trying to protect my kids. I could try to find someone else, but I'm really too busy for dating and you're here already."
"It's not even legal here. It would be completely useless."
"I have residency in Massachusetts. I, uh, own a beach there. So we'd be legal there and you could adopt the kids and then, you know, if I died you might have to move to Massachusetts permanently, but you'd also be a millionaire, so."
"Um," says Jared.
"And I'll set you up with a house in Provincetown and more money than you could ever need, and if you want to feel like you're useful or something, I'll let you run the P-town store. We'd only have to do the hardcore faking-the-marriage thing for a year at most, and then you could pretty much be on your own. I mean, you'd have to spend time with the kids and stuff but we can work all that out later and—"
"Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch," Jared says, shoving Jensen off his lap and standing up quickly. He stares down at Jensen like he's insane, which, well, Jared's pretty sure he is. "You're actually serious about this. You've like, thought it all out and everything."
"I love my kids."
"You're a complete wackjob."
"Um. So is that a yes?"
Jared just gives him a look. "I'm gonna go finish watching this in my room," he says, and backs away very slowly. There's no telling what crazy ass thing Jensen will do next, and the last thing Jared wants is to provoke him further. Unless it ends up with them making out again, which was pretty fabulous, and actually now that he thinks about, maybe he'll look for that purple dildo after all. It's been a while since he fucked himself.
*
They're back at the beach house that weekend and Jensen hasn't tried to kiss him again (unfortunately, Jared thinks to himself, although really, he's totally happy that his boss isn't creating a hostile work environment by attacking Jared with his lips. Yes, totally.), but he's been acting really strangely ever since that night. Jared tries to pretend it never happened, except that he's developed this horrible fixation on Jensen's hips, so seeing him prancing around in his swim trunks all day is pretty much torture. Jared really, really hates him.
So Jared tries to pretend it never happened, but Jensen is. Weird. Weird, even for Jensen. Their first evening back at the beach house after the kids are in bed, he sits down with Jared and watches two entire episodes of Degrassi: The Next Generation without making a single mocking comment or complaining about the ways in which gays are portrayed in the media. And Jared was completely ready to defend Marco's characterization and everything, but Jensen never says a word, just watches the show like he's totally into it. He doesn't even mock Spinner or the crazy Christian internet slut. Jared can only guess that he's gone even crazier than he was before. Clearly, kissing Jared is bad for Jensen's mental health.
"So that was. Um. Enlightening," Jensen says, coughing a little. "I never knew Canadian teenagers were so. Um."
"Retarded?" Jared says, lips twitching a little.
"Well. I mean. I'm sure there's redeeming value in it and they're definitely trying to teach some sort of lesson. Like that Marco kid, and how gambling addictions are bad."
"And how MySpace is evil and all the hot guys you think you're talking to are actually disgusting old pedophiles."
"But if you can get new cheerleading uniforms out of the pervs before you get them arrested, it all comes out okay."
"See, now you're getting it. Who needs Anderson Cooper when you have Degrassi?" Jared grins. He sort of wants to kiss Jensen right now, but there's that thing with Jensen being his boss and all, completely insane, so instead he just clears his throat and looks away. The walls are made of a sort of clapboard-style material and this room is painted a very light green. It's pretty. It doesn't remind Jared at all of Jensen's eyes.
*
They don't watch television the next night, but Jensen does drag Jared outside onto the covered balcony off of the living room after the kids are asleep for "a talk. C'mon, I just want to talk, I promise."
Jared's still kind of freaked that maybe Jensen will try something. Well, freaked and kind of hopeful, because if Jensen makes a move it's totally not Jared's fault at all and Jensen can hardly fire Jared for getting kissed, right? But instead Jensen just grins and hands Jared a lit joint, says, "Go on, it's cool."
They sit on the porch swing and Jared rests his feet on the smooth, worn wood of the balcony railing, rocking them back and forth a little as they smoke and pass the joint between them.
"This is cool," Jared says, taking a long drag and letting the smoke burn in his throat for a long moment before letting it out. He passes the joint. "It's nice to see you, you know. Relaxed and shit. Not having a panic attack. You worry way too much, dude."
"I know," Jensen says, sucking on the almost-dead joint, trying to get the last out of it. Jared tries not to stare at the way Jensen's cheeks hollow out, but it's pretty sexy and he's feeling pretty good. He lets himself wonder what Jensen's like as a cocksucker. Probably better than that surf boy, Chad, although really, pretty much anyone would be better than him. Jensen exhales and pinches the butt out, smiles slow and easy and stares up at the sky. "I really do like you, you know," Jensen says, touching Jared's knee once, softly, before tucking his hands behind his head. "It's not just, you know, the thing that you think it is. I just. Like you. You're a good guy. And you have a nice ass."
"Okay," Jared says. He's not even sure what they're talking about anymore, he just knows that this is nice, here, sitting on the balcony, rocking the swing back and forth with the sound of the waves rolling onto the beach below. He can feel Jensen beside him and their knees brush sometimes, but mostly, it's just, yeah. It's just nice.
"Okay," Jensen agrees, and smiles.
*
A week goes by and Jensen doesn't say anything more about them getting married or how much he likes Jared or what a good guy Jared is, so Jared thinks that maybe Jensen realized what a totally retarded idea it was in the first place and gave up. Or it really was just the pot talking. Jared maybe imagined that whole beach conversation, he thinks. It's not the weirdest thing he's imagined while high.
So Jensen doesn't say anything more about it, and Jared thinks he should be relieved. No more worrying that Jensen's going to randomly kiss him again, which he can't say he really minded the first time, but in conjunction with the whole marriage idea, it's just fucking scary. Jared is only twenty-five. He'd sort of like to have some sort of long term relationship before he gets married. Hell, he'd settle for a normal boyfriend who cheated on him with twinks, or at least someone he fucked on a regular basis. These are experiences one is supposed to have before getting all committed, so marriage? Hell no.
He can't help but feel a tiny bit disappointed about it, though. All the attention was nice, even if it was from a crazy person.
"You should've just said yes in the first place," Sandy tells him, waving her arms around wildly in an attempt to get the bartender's attention. Unfortunately for Sandy, though, the bartender is being distracted by a particularly hot twink boy whose pants seem to be made entirely of mesh, so the likelihood of them getting drinks anytime soon is seriously low. That's the risk you take, choosing Pantheon as your night on the town hot spot. On the other hand, it's the only gay club in Charleston, so it's never really a choice to begin with. Maybe Jensen's onto something with the whole Provincetown idea. At least there are gay people in Massachusetts.
"He's clearly insane, though," Jared says, sipping at the dregs of his amaretto sour. "I mean, what kind of guy asks his nanny to fake marry him? That's fucked up."
"Didn't that happen on that show with that chick with the terrible voice?" Sandy says. "Or, um, like every Bronte novel ever written?"
"No idea. I tried to read the one about the crazy chick in the attic, but Rochester just didn't seem hot and if I'm gonna read het, the guy needs to at least be a Darcy-level of hotness."
Sandy gives him a look. "Okay, weird guy. My point is, that maybe the whole random marriage proposal thing isn't that weird. The guy's all political and shit, he's probably read a million stories about gay guys getting their kids taken away. And we don't exactly live in a gay-friendly state, you know, so I just think—"
"Dude, I did not come out on my night off to get a lecture about equal rights. Can't we just—look, the twink is going away, maybe we can get drinks now." Jared leans forward over the bar and ignores the way Sandy rolls her eyes and sighs like she's all put upon or something, because seriously, it's not in Jared's job description to fix Jensen's neuroses. Cleaning up child vomit, reading incredibly boring children's books about caterpillars and loving yourself, watching pointless hour after hour of Sesame Street and other shows Jared didn't even like when he was a kid—all of that, totally, yes, sure. Because being a nanny is one thing—it's a perfectly respectable profession no matter what his dad says—but being a wife and mother? No, absolutely not. Not for all the free porn and sex toys in the world. Especially if he doesn't even get to fuck Jensen out of the deal.
*
Which doesn't explain what happens when he gets home that night, but really, it's not Jared's fault and actually he can maybe place the full extent of the blame on Sandy for making him take those last two shots. He's pretty sure they weren't lemon drops like she said, either, unless lemon drops suddenly taste exactly like tequila, in which case Jared is switching to vodka for life. Because tequila clearly makes him psychotic. It's the only explanation he has for accidentally fucking his boss who already wants to marry him.
He's already writing an extremely angry email to Sandy in his head when he wakes up the next morning, mostly about how tequila is gross and she's evil and he hates her forever for his hangover, when he rolls over and sees Jensen blinking awake and smiling softly and dear god, the man must curl his eyelashes or something, because that is seriously not natural.
"Um," says Jared, but before he can go into full denial mode his brain switches on and he remembers, quite suddenly, the exact size and shape of Jensen's dick and the way it felt inside him, which was pretty much hot and perfect and, yeah, Jensen really knows how to use his hips. The details of how, exactly, that dick somehow magicked itself up Jared's ass are very fuzzy, something about Sandy shoving him into a cab and Jensen having to pretty much carry him to his room because, yeah, tequila—but the actual fucking? Jared maybe remembers that.
"Um," Jared says again, and closes his eyes shut tight. Because maybe, just maybe, if he pretends this isn't happening, he'll open his eyes and discover that the memory of Jensen's mouth sliding wet and tight around his dick is just some, some overactive, tequila-induced hallucination and really, it wasn't Jensen at all, but Brad Pitt, because if he's going to start having psychotic breaks involving highly realistic hallucinated sex, it should totally be Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt from Thelma and Louise, with the cowboy hat and everything. Yes.
Except that when Jared finally gets the courage to open his eyes—okay, one eye, just a tiny bit, just to see—Jensen's still there. Only now Jensen's fully awake and shifting closer to Jared, making a low, happy sound and running his hand up the inside of Jared's thigh.
And all Jared can think is that he must still be drunk from the night before. That's the only explanation he has for letting Jensen roll him over on his other side and press long, thick fingers inside him, slow, so slow. Jensen's talking, maybe, something about how hot Jared is and how good he feels and how Jensen was totally right about the sex not being bad, but Jared's finding it really hard to pay attention when Jensen's fingers are in his ass, so instead he just moans a little and presses back against Jensen's hand. It's okay if he's being totally slutty, Jared thinks, because he's still drunk and tequila is evil and so is Sandy.
Then Jensen's pressing into him, one long, slow slide, breath hot against Jared's neck and, yeah, he's really good at this. Or at least, the tequila hallucination fairies seem to like Jensen's dick an awful lot, and Jared's okay with that, too. Because maybe he's not Brad Pitt, but Jensen is, yeah, he's pretty good. He does this twisting, shoving thrust thing that has Jared on the verge of coming right away, and then his fingers wrap around Jared's dick, brush lightly up and down, across the head as Jensen pushes in again, hard, and Jared comes abruptly, just like that.
Tequila, Jared thinks as Jensen pushes into him over and over, teeth scraping across the back of Jared's neck, maybe isn't so bad, after all.
*
The next time Jared wakes up, he's alone, thank god, but there's a note on the pillow next to him and a distinct soreness in his ass that lets him know that the whole fucking his boss (twice) thing really did happen.
Jared dreads reading the note, puts it off until he's showered and brushed his teeth and put clothes on, but when he finally gets around to it, all it says is, "I hope this helps change your mind. -Jensen." Jensen has dotted all his I's with smiley faces. Jared feels like puking, and he's pretty sure that's only partly to do with the tequila.
So Jared takes a deep breath, resists the urge to spend the day purging into the toilet, and heads downstairs to quit his job.
*
Jensen doesn't take the whole quitting thing very well, but since Jared tells him he has two weeks to find a replacement and make the transition and then refuses to talk to him or stay in the same room with him afterward, Jensen doesn't really have much of a choice in the matter.
"I'm glad you won't marry Dad," Fabian tells him when Jared meets him in front of his school that afternoon. GiGi is asleep in her stroller, drooling all over her new pink dress that she just had to wear and promised ten times she wouldn't ruin, but drool is probably okay, Jared thinks, as long as no snot is involved.
Jared just shrugs and takes Fabian's hand, pushing the stroller along with the other while Fabian talks. He's a talker, Fabian, and he'll pretty much go on and on for as long as you let him, especially if someone has made the mistake of giving him juice for snack, which clearly, his teacher doesn't know about and Jared makes a note that he'll have to tell the new nanny. The mental notes are piling up.
"Mrs. Arbuckle says it's very forward-thoughting to have a man for a nanny," Fabian says, "but I told her you don't really count since you're gay."
"I'm still a man, Fabian," Jared says. "Would you say your dad is a woman, too? He's pretty gay." Jared should know, what with the whole part where Jensen had his dick up Jared's ass last night. A lot, and roughly, judging from the amount of soreness Jared's feeling now. Jared coughs and lets go of Fabian's hand. It's too weird to think about fucking Jensen with his kids right there.
"But Dad is like the Dad and he makes all the money and buys us stuff, so he's the man."
"Yeah, um. Okay, sure, if we're living in 1950 or something and the women's rights movement never happened. In that case, I'm totally the woman. So why don't you want your dad to get married?"
"People would be mean to him," Fabian says, skipping ahead so he can turn and skip backwards, facing Jared and GiGi, who continues to drool and make some truly disgusting slurping noises in her sleep. "They'd be all, 'Gross, look at the fags.' And Dad is kinda sensitive about that stuff."
"You know you're not supposed to use that word."
"I'm quoting," Fabian says. "That's like, when you say what someone else said. You know, quoting?"
"I know what it is, but that doesn't mean you get to swear, you little brat."
"Whatever," Fabian says, and laughs. "Can I have a Gogurt when I get home? Do we have any strawberry?"
People would be mean to him, Jared thinks, shaking his head. People are already mean to Jared and he's been called 'faggot' more times than he really wants to remember, but he's never really thought about it in terms of Jensen. Jensen's rich and he managed to procreate twice before his wife's tragic liposuction accident, so it's not like he isn't capable of marrying a woman, which would actually be legal and a lot more uncontestable in court and no one would have to move to Massachusetts. The whole thing is suddenly a hundred times weirder than it was before, when Jared was just refusing to acknowledge its existence and trying to forget the (fantastic) sex.
Maybe, he thinks as he jostles the stroller over a crack in the sidewalk, he should introduce Jensen to Sandy.
*
"Hell no," Sandy says, standing up on her tip toes, trying to see past the people in the line in front of them. Yo Burrito is packed tonight, full of hipster kids trying to get trashed on dollar PBRs before they hit the actual bars and have to pay five times as much for rum and cokes that have little to no actual rum in them. "Could this line be any longer? For fuck's sake, buy a twelve pack at home, it's much easier!" she half-yells at the kid in the front of the line. "I need a burrito, damnit. The Mack Monster only allows organic vegan food in her house. I need some meat!"
"Dude, calm down," Jared says. "Didn't you even hear me? I can totally hook you up with Jensen. And then, see, that way I can keep my job and not have to, like, wait tables or something. Sandy, seriously—do you want me to end up as a barista? Making coffee for strangers?"
"Don't be disgusting," Sandy says. "And yeah, Jensen's totally hot and under different circumstances, I'd totally fuck him. But I'm not going to marry some random guy I don't even know. Especially not after his dick has already been in you. You're like my brother, Jared. That's just sick."
"How do you that he—"
Sandy shuts him up with a look. "Ha," she says, shuffling forward in line, "as if I ever questioned your bottomy tendencies."
They get to the front of the line and order, and Jared gets them each two PBRs because really, the whole dollar PBR thing is a very good deal even if it's totally a gross hipster thing to do. He lets Sandy take a few bites of her burrito before he starts in again. At least this way, maybe she'll be in a better mood.
"I just, I hate to leave them like this," Jared says, sipping at his beer. It's disgusting—it's PBR, so that's to be expected—but it's alcoholic and it was only a dollar. "Those kids are little freaks and someone else might not understand how to handle the freakishness without, you know, stifling it or whatever."
"I dunno, that Fabian kid could probably stand to lose the dildo obsession."
"Okay, yeah. But aside from that."
"Aside from that," Sandy says, her mouth half-full of chewed up burrito bits, "I don't really see what the problem is." She swallows hard and takes a long drink from her beer. "I mean, you've got a hot, rich guy who wants to marry you and pretty much set you up for life. He's good in bed and you already like his kids. So basically, you're just being a fucking idiot."
"I'm being sensible," Jared says, frowning at his burrito. "I'm being, like, a normal person or something. Normal people don't run away to Massachusetts to get married and run porn shops in Provincetown and live happily ever after."
"He offered you a porn shop?" Sandy says, staring blankly. She slaps his arm, hard. "You didn't tell me he offered you a fucking porn shop, Jared!"
"That was sort of the least fucked up thing about the proposal. Sorry if it slipped my mind."
"Whatever," Sandy says, finishing off her PBR and popping the top on her second one. "I don't think I can even talk to you right now. You are too stupid to be alive."
*
When Jared brings the kids down for breakfast the next morning, still trying to zip up the back of GiGi's dress because she ran away from him screaming, "Naked GiGi!" at the top of her lungs before he could manage it, there's a strange guy standing in the foyer with Jensen. A strange, hot guy who is nearly as tall as Jared, and possibly just a tiny bit prettier than him, too. Jared frowns and yanks the zipper on GiGi's dress before setting her down. She immediately reaches back and tries to unzip herself, but she's still a little kid and not the most coordinated little kid, either, so instead she just spins herself in circles and falls over. The stranger clears his throat.
"This must be little GiGi!" he says, smiling wide. He has perfect teeth to compliment his perfect mouth and his perfect cheekbones. Jared hates him on sight and the way his hair falls perfectly over his forehead makes Jared want to hit him.
GiGi grunts at him, still rolling around on the floor trying to reach her zipper.
"GiGi is very special," Jared says dryly. "You must be my replacement."
"Tom," the perfect guy says, smiling fondly at GiGi even though she's acting like a total freak.
"Tom has a degree in early education. And he knows how to cook," Jensen says pointedly.
"Tom is a dildo!" Fabian shouts from the dining room. Jared doesn't even know the guy, but he's pretty sure he agrees.
*
Tom, it turns out, really is pretty much perfect. He handles the kids professionally, he tries to teach them shit even when they're just having a normal conversation. The kids, after some initial rebellion including the flinging of eggs across the table, seem to like him okay, especially since he actually pays attention during Sesame Street and doesn't make them watch Passions. He makes them snacks and cooks dinner and he's really good at it. He's pretty much perfect in every way, and Jared hates him.
"He's like fucking Mary Poppins," Jared tells Sandy a few days later when they meet up at Waterfront Park. Tom has taken the kids down to the end of the pier to look out at Fort Sumter, leaving Sandy and Jared alone in the large, grassy area with their blankets and the Martha Stewart-esque picnic basket he put together. He's probably explaining the history of the entire Civil War in child-friendly terms that educate without pulling too many punches. Jared really, really hates him.
"Practically perfect in every way," Sandy agrees, staring down the hill at Tom's ass. "Jensen should marry him. He's like, the perfect mommy shoved inside a really hot guy."
Jared pulls up a clump of grass and frowns into his lap. "Yeah," he says, "and then they can be this perfect little gay family and everyone will live happily ever after except the poor, stupid, former nanny, who will work at Starbucks for the rest of his life, making espressos for fat, balding men who don't need the extra calories but demand whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on everything."
"Yeah, that'll really suck," Sandy agrees, still staring at Tom's ass. "You know what else will suck? When the poor, retarded nanny gets horribly stabbed for talking about himself in the third person. Seriously, Jared, get over yourself."
"You know I can't help it! It just slips out like that, it's because I'm a writer."
Sandy gives him a look. "That's so not what I was talking about."
*
It's Jared's last night in the house and he can't sit still, not even for the finale of So You Think You Can Dance, which he's been saving specifically for tonight. He tries to watch The Singing Bee, but the band pretty much murdering his favorite ABBA song has him shutting that off right away, so instead he's watching Anderson Cooper and trying to learn something and not think about Jensen and the kids and leaving.
"I thought you spurned all news shows on principle," Jensen says, settling on the couch next to him.
"Yeah, well. Neil got kicked off the dancing show, so I figured I'd give it a try. Anderson is pretty hot."
"Listen, Jared, I think—"
"I don't want to leave," Jared blurts out. His eyes remain firmly fixed on Anderson Cooper, who is wearing a particularly fetching pin-striped suit tonight, and he is trying very hard not to think about the words coming out of his mouth. He can't blame tequila this time, but he's pretty sure it's Sandy's fault anyway. She mind-tricked him.
"You. You don't?" Jensen says.
"It's just. I don't like Tom. He's an ass. He's too perfect. He's probably like, secretly a psycho axe-murderer or something. He's definitely hiding something, anyway, and I just don't think the kids should be subjected to someone so. Tom-like."
"He does dress really well," Jensen says thoughtfully. "I think he even presses his jeans, which is just—"
"Freakish! It's totally freakish. You can't marry someone who presses their jeans! It's like, against the laws of nature!"
"Jared." Jensen grabs his hand and tugs until Jared turns to face him. Jensen's lips are twitching like he wants to smile, but otherwise he looks completely serious. "Jared, I'm not planning on marrying Tom. Why would I marry someone I barely know?"
"You wanted to marry me," Jared says, glaring and trying to yank his hand away, but Jensen just hangs on tighter.
"I've known you for three years. You've lived in my house and taken care of my kids and planned my parties and ordered my flowers and picked up my dry cleaning for three years! I've survived three years of terrible reality television and even worse teenaged soap operas—"
"Dude, The O.C. doesn't count as teenaged, there are totally adults involved."
"The point is," Jensen says loudly, "I think I know you. And I didn't ask you to marry me because I. Well, okay, so maybe I had sort of a freakout or whatever—"
"You had a major, total freakout of epic proportions."
"—but I think that the whole Britney Spears situation entitles me to freak out a little, and also, you have to admit that the sex was really hot."
"Mmm. Okay," Jared says, coughing a little, "the sex was pretty, um. It was okay, I guess."
"It was amazing, asshole, and you know it."
"Not everything can be Britney's fault, you know."
"Well, but a lot of things are, right? But uh, you know, even before the sex, I, well. I liked you. And there was always an attraction, I mean, bosses don't just give out top-of-the-line dildos as Christmas bonuses unless they're trying to, you know, tell you something."
"Oh," says Jared.
"Oh," Jensen agrees.
Jared swallows and looks up at Jensen, who after all, is really fucking hot and rich and Jared does already like his kids. He maybe likes Jensen too, even if Jensen does like to watch the news and give him lectures on queer rights and pride and shit. Plus, Jared was totally lying before—the sex was pretty much the best sex he's ever had.
"Okay, but look. Clearly, Tom can't stay."
"Clearly," Jensen says. "He's probably possessed, or a demon or something. He presses his jeans!"
"But I'm not, okay. I'm not going to marry you. The way this is gonna work is, we're going to have a proper, old-fashioned Jude Law-type affair. Because like, hot sex is one thing—"
"Ha! So you admit it?"
"—but I'm not, you know, some orphaned chick who doesn't have any other options except to deal with the psychotic wife in the attic or whatever. Maybe we'll try it and it'll be exactly like the Jude Law thing and we'll end up hating each other and I'll try to steal all your money and you'll go back to Sienna Miller."
"Or maybe it'll be like The Sound of Music, and we'll fall in love and get married and teach GiGi and Fabian how to sing Austrian folk songs."
Jared grins and leans forward, because, after all, the sex was really hot and right now he just wants to kiss his. His boyfriend, his person, whatever. He wants to kiss Jensen, so he does. Jensen tastes like the apple pie Tom made for dessert and he shivers and makes this delicious half-moaning sound when Jared bites gently at his bottom lip.
"Okay," Jared says, resting his forehead on Jensen's shoulder and trying to breathe. "It can, yeah, it can be like The Sound of Music. But I'm still not dressing up like a nun."
"No nuns," Jensen agrees, running his hand up Jared's spine and into the hair at the nape of his neck to pet him a little. "No nuns," he says again, "but how do you feel about priests?"
The end. And then they lived happily ever after in Massachusetts.
