audrarose

The bar's way too crowded for Jared.

Which is weird, because usually he loves to hang out in a place like this, just some bar downtown with a loud, local band and a hyper Friday night crowd, but there's something off about tonight. He feels it in the tug at his gut, in the restless, unsettled feeling that dropped over his shoulders the second they walked in the place and it's just gotten more intense every minute they've been standing there. He wonders if maybe Jensen wouldn't mind taking off early, even if this is supposed to be a bachelor party. 

He's about to tap Jensen's shoulder and ask but the tight crowd shifts suddenly and then he's got Jensen falling into him, leaning heavily and looking up at Jared like he's surprised to find him there. Jensen's face rearranges itself into a slow, drunken smile before he drags Jared's head down, fingers curling warm around Jared's neck.  

"Hey... hey, not here," Jared manages, even though with Jensen's mouth right there it's kind of hard to remember why he has to say it.

At the last second Jensen changes direction, leans up so their cheeks brush, so the tip of his nose brushes the hair behind Jared's ear and Jared can feel the breath of air when Jensen speaks. "This place is fucking awesome," Jensen says.

Or at least that's what Jared thinks he says, because Jensen probably wouldn't raise his voice if the bar were on fire and besides, he'd had enough to drink an hour ago to start running his words together into one slow, sliding drawl. Jared tries to push Jensen back up into a standing position, using the bar-height table behind them for support, but it's like propping a puppet on a shelf.

Jensen grins at him. "Hey," he says. 

A very uncoordinated, very affectionate puppet.

"Hey." Jared can't help smiling a little. "Come on, just stand up straight. You can do that, right? Try."

"Of course I can," Jensen says, sounding a little insulted, and he almost manages to focus.  "Because I'm not drunk at all."

"Okay," Jared says.  He's learned it's easier not to argue with Jensen's perception of his own sobriety. He's also kind of surprised that Jensen thinks this place is awesome, because he knows Jensen hates crowds and smoke and lame-ass cover bands pretty much as a general rule. "I thought you hated this kind of thing."

Jensen shakes his head. "We never do this."

"Because you hate it."

Jensen blinks in the face of circular logic until someone behind him stumbles into him again and knocks him back into Jared. The bottles on the table lurch ominously.

"Jenseeeeen!"

Jared can hear the shout even over the music and watches Jensen wince against the pain in his ear before he smiles.

Steve. Of course.

"Isn't this totally fucking awesome?" Steve howls into Jensen's ear.

Jared wonders what Steve expects Jensen to say to that, because Steve's hauling Jensen upright with his hands on Jensen's shoulders, shaking him so hard that if Jensen tried to answer he'd bite his tongue.

Jared drinks his beer in Steve's direction and hopes it comes off as sarcastic. "Yeah. It's awesome. Are we done here, yet?"

Steve looks at him like he's nuts. "Oh, no. No way, are you crazy? I know you want to get to the club, but man, we gotta get Tony wasted first!"

Jared glances at the bar where Kane's sound tech is doing shots without using his hands. "Dude, Tony's been wasted since he got out of the van. I don't think you're depriving him."

Steve waves his hand and almost takes out the guy behind him. "Fine. Okay. Soon. We'll go. But first. Jen. Jen!" Steve flings his arm around Jensen's neck in a strangle-hold and shouts into Jensen's ear again. "Come -- come with me. You need to do a shot with Tony!" He leans on Jensen's shoulder like Jensen should just carry him to the bar and for the zillionth time Jared decides he really, really hates Jensen's best friend.

Jensen nods. "Yeah... okay. Yeah."

Hates him a lot.

Then Jensen's smiling half-apologetically at Jared and Steve's dragging him off backwards into the crowd like they're in the final swarm scene in a zombie movie, so all Jared can do is just grimace back. 

This whole thing would be so much easier if Steve were just using Jen. If Steve had dragged Chris and their road crew and what seemed like half their fans up to Vancouver just to use the show's PR people to put them on a list for some hot club or some low-lit bar where a third of the place was behind a velvet rope and you had to buy your ridiculously over-priced vodka by the bottle and then couldn't even pour it yourself -- that, Jared could live with.

But that's not what Steve did. Oh, no - instead he rolled into town and found some dive bar where his band had played once or twice, where the girls in the offices on Seymour Street came to party after work and who all apparently think "My friend's getting married," is the best pick-up line they've ever heard.  If this typical shit was all Steve wanted to do, why the fuck did they have to come all the way up here for Tony's bachelor party in the first place? They could have done this at ten different places in Austin.

In fact, Jared had asked that exact question while editing out the profanity and irritation, and Steve had just smiled his shit-eating grin and said Canada has better beer and hotter women. 

Whatever.

Jared hadn't really needed to ask. He already fucking knows there's only one reason Steve comes to Vancouver ever, and that reason is now sitting right next to him at the too-crowded bar, slouched down with half-focused eyes and a lop-sided grin getting totally hammered. 

And God. Jared's been on the other side of that sleepy smile, that touchable sprawl that Jensen sinks into when he's had a few; those things have been his and his alone for months now. Watching Jensen relax, watching Jensen let down his guard for Steve is making the blood rush to Jared's head so fast he can hear his own heartbeat in his temples.

"Hey, I know you!" The voice is high and excited and comes from somewhere around his chest. Jared resigns himself to a night of exclamation points and looks down at the admittedly hot Canadian office-worker woman smiling up at him. Jared automatically smiles back before he remembers he hates his life.

"Do you?"

"You're on that show! With that other guy!"

Yeah. That other guy who seems to have forgotten his existence. Jared thinks his smile has probably gotten a little frightening by now but that doesn't deter his fan, who seems to think he needs reminding which show he's on.

"You chase ghosts!" she says. "And... and try to catch Superman!"

Jared smiles wider, teeth gritted. The woman falters but for some unknown reason doesn't run. Jared looks through the crowd to see if That Other Guy's noticed that Jared's being chatted up by hot, drunk Canadian women, but he's too busy listening to something Steve's saying, laughing at it. Jared can actually hear him, a short burst of laughter like Jensen can't help it, cut off like he's surprised he made the sound out loud.

Through the red haze in front of his eyes Jared reminds himself that Jensen's the one who gets jealous. Jensen.

Always.

"Um... isn't that the right show?" Jared barely hears the suddenly uncertain and vaguely annoyed voice coming from the woman beside him.  "Hey, hello?"

Jensen's the one who gets jealous because Jared's the one who can talk to anyone, make friends with anyone, pick up anyone -- case in point, hot Canadian office worker woman... who has apparently fled while Jared was glaring, but even so. He can't help being adorable. His fucking dry-cleaner back in Austin still sends him Christmas cards and wants him to marry her daughter, and okay, so maybe, maybe he's a little bit of a flirt, he can admit that.

But it's not like he means it. Whenever it pisses Jensen off Jared always makes it up to him in really creative and extremely enjoyable ways, so Jared figures it's kind of a win all around.

The wall of people in front of Jared suddenly shifts again and he finds himself looking at Chris and blinking into a shout, something between a rebel yell and an aria. As long as Jared's known him Chris has thought that the best way to comment on the relative success of a party is the face-scream. Apparently, this party is the shit.

Jared's too busy being morose to scream back. "Glad you're having fun," he says. He ends up saying most of it to his beer.

"Dude!" Jared translates that to yes. "Tony!" Chris continues.

"Jared," Jared tells him, just in case Chris is so far gone he's not sure who he's talking to. "Tony's over there."  Leaning into the bar, listing a little to the left and listening to Steve tell whatever story it is that has Jensen so fucking amused.

"He's getting married!" Chris elaborates.

"Yeah, I know." His second lifetime commitment in as many years. "Again."

That makes Chris miss a beat. "Yeah... but... but it doesn't happen every day! Just -- every year or so, and --  it's our  job -- no, it's our duty to party his ass into bondage. So have a drink and cheer the fuck up!" The last part comes with a semi-friendly shove to his shoulder and a fresh beer landing on the table in front of him and Jared thinks, well, why the fuck not.

Because Jared never gets jealous. Never, and he deserves a drink for that. In fact, he deserves a frickin' medal for that, because the cold fact is that every single person, man or woman, in every single bar, restaurant, store, street-corner they pass looks at Jensen. Every single one, whether they recognize him or not. 

And that just makes Jared proud. That makes him think, yeah, he's mine, and then congratulate himself on not feeling threatened, on being so self-assured that he can easily deal with the fact that every breathing human they meet is basically checking out his boyfriend. 

Only watching Jensen now... Now Jared's realizing that maybe that's total bull-shit. Maybe that was only because Jensen never looked back.

There's a burst of laughter from the bar where Steve's obviously finished the funniest fucking story in the history of life on the planet, and Jensen's shaking his head and leaning back, looking at Steve like he's the only one in the room.

"Does Steve even know what time it is?" Jared asks. "I thought we were going to try to get out of here, get over to the strip club." He sounds bitchy and whiny and can't even bring himself to care.

"Is it late?" Chris asks, trying to drag out his phone. The crowd's too close and he gives up, gestures toward the bar. "Does it matter? Look, Tony's having a good time -- and you know how Jen and Steve are. They could be there all night."

Jared wants to turn on Chris, wants to say, no, as a matter of fact, he doesn't know how Jen and Steve are, and could Chris elaborate and provide dates and times where they've been anything at all?  He doesn't get that far because the group around Jensen and Steve has shifted, divided. Jared stares in surprise.

The woman Steve's kissing is pretty and blonde and tiny, seems far more interested in giggling than making out, and whatever Steve's whispering in her ear makes her laugh out loud. 

When Jared looks at Jensen he finds that Jensen's looking back at him, turning that soft smile toward him where it should always be and Jared relaxes just a little, because he knows this. Knows by the way Jen's tilting his head that he's saying, let's go, let's leave, let's take this home, and Jared nods.

Right before the girl kissing Steve turns to Jensen.

Right before Steve gives her a little nudge and she puts her hands on Jensen's face. And turns him toward her. And presses their lips together. 

Time does backflips around Jared's head.

Someone else.

Kissing.

Jensen.

It takes a minute for the concept and the visual to add up to any kind of sense, and even then he's still mostly good, because okay, drunk girl in a bar, but then Steve leans down to kiss her neck. Only he doesn't touch her; he touches Jen.  He curves his hand around Jensen's shoulder, then slides it up to cup Jensen's head when Jen goes to pull away. The rest of the bar whites out and all Jared can see are Steve's fingers in Jensen's hair, slipping through the strands like he can't touch enough.

Jared's moving before he thinks. At the edges of his vision he can see Jen break away, can hear his self-effacing laugh and mama-raised-me-right thanks, he might even call the blonde girl 'ma'am' as he stands up but Jared doesn't see what happens next because he's heading for the back exit.

**

Jensen catches up with him near a supply closet room past the bathrooms, down two steps and off to the side of the fire exit and when Jensen tries to catch Jared's arm Jared reaches out and drags him in, makes him stumble over the threshold and blink into the dim light when Jared slams the door shut behind him.

"Jay, what the fuck?"

Jensen's puzzled question is barely out of his mouth before Jared's pushing him, shoving him hard into the wall behind him so the air whooshes out of his lungs and his hands come up to Jared's shoulders. Jared leans in and kisses him, forces Jensen's mouth open to taste lime and salt... and lipstick. Fucking lipstick. Wax and chemical sweetness slicked over the bottom curve of Jensen's lip and suddenly Jared's biting down, harder than he should, nipping it away as Jensen makes a small grunt of pain.

"Hey..." Jensen says, the vibration of his words against Jared's lips where they're moving over Jensen's throat, sucking hard and biting down to make Jensen gasp. "Hey, I'm not -- not complaining, but weren't you the one who said not here?"

Jared tugs hard at Jensen's belt buckle in reply, one arm around his waist, mouth moving over the line of Jensen's jaw. "Fuck that," he growls into Jensen's skin, right up against his throat so he can feel Jensen swallow convulsively when Jared's fingers drag the zipper down and dip into the open v, rubbing the hardening line of his cock through the soft cotton of his boxers.

"Okay. Okay..."Jensen says, almost soothingly, shifting his body so his jeans come down a little and hang off his hips, giving Jared access. He sounds a little baffled but he's obviously trying to give Jared what he needs, and part of Jared breaks apart at that -- the part that isn't writhing and blind with jealousy, anyway. He grabs the waist of Jensen's jeans and shoves it down to his thighs, bringing the boxers along, too, so he gets one glimpse of Jensen's almost-hard cock before he's spinning Jensen around and pushing his face into the wall.

"Fuck, Jay, are you kidding me? Here?" Jensen sounds a little angry, now, and Jared knows it's stupid, fucking idiotic, but it's like maybe he doesn't care, like maybe the smooth curve of Jensen's ass beneath the hem of his shirt and the memory of Jensen smiling at Steve have pushed any rationality off into the ether, somewhere far away so the only thing that matters is getting his hands on Jensen's body and burying himself deep.

Lube from his front pocket, squeezed dripping over his fingertips before he pushes two fingers inside, gripping Jensen's hip to get the right leverage, the right angle.

Jensen mutters, "Jesus fuck," as Jared twists his fingers exactly the way he knows Jensen's likes it; the way no one else should ever know Jensen likes it because this is his, the way Jensen feels and the way he sounds, tight heat and growling sex noises that all belong to him. Scissored movement and another finger; it's too much too fast and the alarm of that knowledge is pounding in Jared's head, but Jensen's practically whining, twisting back against Jared's fingers like he wants more.

Jared leans in when he opens his own jeans, sucks Jensen's earlobe into his mouth with just the barest hint of teeth and says, low and heated, "You ready for me?"

And God, Jensen better be fucking ready because Jared needs to be inside now; now now now, so Jensen's broken whisper, "Yeah, c'mon, God," isn't even finished before Jared's lining himself up and pushing in; one thick, sliding thrust that he feels all the way to the base of his spine. Jensen's stuttering breath folds around a moan and it goes right to Jared's throat, makes it ache with something he isn't going to let out, not yet, and he stills his forward motion, pulls Jensen tight against him until he gets control, just to make sure it stays that way.

"Move, move... damn it, Jay, you've got to move," Jensen begs, frantic whisper as he pushes back, bracing himself and Jared against the wall. He bends his head so Jared can see the arch of his neck, the vulnerable place at the top his spine where the bone skates so close to the surface there's only fragile skin stretched tight that Jared licks, sucks on to leave a bruise. The red flush he leaves behind is right, satisfying, like the marks his fingers leave on Jensen's hips; Jared's almost ashamed at how much he wants to mark Jensen, bruise him, claim him, moving his hips hard and fast until it's almost, almost too much.  

That's when he leans in, curls himself over Jensen's back and curls his hand around Jensen's cock, smooth, hard-soft against his palm, just damp enough to slide and slide the way Jared's sliding into Jensen's body, a stuttering rhythm that leaves Jared moaning release into Jensen's neck and Jensen coming all over Jared's fingers, slippery and hot.

For a second or two all Jared can do is breathe. Breathe, and push his lips against the beaded sweat on Jensen's shoulder, Jensen panting fast and out of breath and letting out a groaning laugh as Jared slips free.  Jared closes his slippery hands around Jensen's hips, turns him around and drags him in, his own pants gaping open so their bodies touch, an intimate crush of damp skin as Jensen lets his head drop back against the wall.

Jensen's eyes are closed, his expression blissed out and happy. He looks well-fucked and sated, mouth soft with it, and God, Jared loves that look. He's loved that look since the first time he saw it, loves the fact that he can put it there, that Jensen lets him see what Jared does to him. Jared loves all of it.

Because he loves Jensen. Jared blinks, almost reels from the sudden shock of that thought. He loves Jensen. Actually fucking loves him, and what a goddamn ridiculous thing to realize at the same time he also kind of hates him, too.

Jared realizes Jensen's watching him, eyes slitted open, glint of green beneath his lashes and he's started to look a little thoughtful, like his brain is coming back on line.

"I'm not gonna argue with the results... but there is no known universe where you're jealous of that girl back there." Jensen sounds almost amused, soft drawl roughened with tequila and sex, tiny smile at the corners of his lips. "You know goddamn well she kissed me."

And that -- that's just so many miles away from the point that Jared isn't sure there's a way to communicate it. He looks down at Jensen who is calm and oblivious and amused; looks at him until the room seems to spin a little bit and the air seems to thin and there's nowhere to put the hurt he's feeling except into that too-raw space in between them. 

"That was Steve," Jared says, hissing it out and the truth of it makes him want to thow up. "That was Steve kissing you."

Jensen opens his eyes all the way, blinks a few times. "No," he finally says. "No way I'm that drunk."

Jensen's mouth is slack with shock, red with the faintest trace of lipstick that's no competition for the vivid bruise Jared put over it and suddenly Jared feels sick to his stomach. He has a sudden, vivid mental picture of Steve's hand in Jensen's hair and has to move, has to leave right now because Jensen doesn't get it, maybe refuses to get it, and if he stays here any longer he's going to suffocate.

"Hey, wait..." Jensen says, turning to go after him but Jensen has to stop to pull his clothes back into place, fix the gorgeous mess that Jared made of him so Jared's half-way across the parking lot before Jensen catches up. 

"Jay, come on. Stop."

Fast footsteps on the pavement behind him, strong fingers closing around his arm, stopping him, turning him, pushing him up against some car in the darkness. Jared tries to shove Jensen away but Jensen's strong and Jensen's heavy and somehow that's as reassuring as it is maddening; Jared feels a sudden, painful rush of relief at knowing he'd never be able to make Jensen do something he didn't want to do. But that still doesn't change the fact that Jared can't get any leverage. He tries to turn his head but then he has Jensen's hand in his hair, gripping tight; has Jensen leaning into him to push their faces close, to whisper to him, soft and urgent.

"Hey, listen to me. Listen. It's never gonna be Steve. Not ever."

Jared closes his eyes and lets Jensen's words bat at him, has to let them swirl around a little before he can actually hear them.

"Never...?" His throat is raw.

"No. Jesus."  Jensen sounds so certain underneath the irritation that Jared relaxes, just a little.

"He wants you," Jared says, finally, feeling calmer about it now. It's the simple truth.  Steve and half the people Jensen's ever come across in his life.

Jensen looks away at that. Shrugs. "Maybe. Fuck, I don't know. Doesn't matter, though." Then Jensen shoves Jared's shoulder a little. Pushes Jared's hair back, fingers rough. "And you should know that. Dick head."

Jared sighs. Maybe he does know that. A little. Jensen's staring at him appraisingly, but all Jared can see is the darkening bruise on Jensen's lip. It makes something twist inside him. He reaches up, brushes over the spot gingerly with his thumb, like he can wipe it away.

Jensen shakes him off. "Come on, don't. Don't look like that." The corner of Jensen's mouth twitches. "It was fucking hot."

Jared nods, not feeling a whole lot better. "Sorry," he says anyway, voice rasping with only part of the misery he feels.

Jensen looks up at the sky like it's going to give him patience, then moves in so suddenly he can feel Jensen's breath, a soft puff of air over his lips with every furiously whispered word. "You make me fucking insane," Jensen says. "Totally batshit crazy and I don't think you even know you're doing it. Listen to me. It's never gonna be Steve. It's never gonna be anyone, Jay, don't you get that?"

Jensen shakes him a little, like that will make the words sink in, but Jared isn't capable of answering, can only hold his breath and wait for more. 

Except Jensen pauses, like he's thinking about what he said. "Well, anyone else," he clarifies. "Other than you, obviously." Jensen tilts his head, considering. "Or unless I'm not consenting, I guess."

Jared has to smile then, has to laugh, too, because it's so typically Jensen to offer a sweeping commitment and then try to define the details. He laughs while Jensen looks at him like maybe he's a little nuts, feels Jensen's body over him and around him and takes a deep breath because he can breathe again, now that the weight crushing his chest is gone, replaced with something lighter than air.  "So. Those are your terms?"

Jensen grins, too, warily. "People randomly kiss me. What can I say? You're just gonna have to live with it."

Jared lets his hands slide over Jensen's back and lower; thinks he can deal with the fine print.  "Okay. Okay, me, too."

"Yeah?" Jensen sounds so cautiously hopeful that Jared decides he won't flirt anymore.

Well, as much as he can help.  "Yeah. Of course. What did you think?"

Jensen shrugs, looking uncertain, and suddenly the words are just hanging there, begging to be said. And it would be so easy but... Jared doesn't want this to be what he remembers later. Not some crappy parking lot while Jensen's still a little drunk and the imprint of Jared's teeth are still marking his lip. It can wait.

Jared drags him close. "Dick head," he says.

Love you, he thinks. Love you.

End