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Entry tags:
J2 | This Bipolar Love Affair (1/2) | NC-17
Title: This Bipolar Love Affair
Words: 16000
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jensen tends bar at a local hangout that stays open too late and never has anything good happen in it - bad hookups, ugly fights, love gone sour. He thinks he's keeping Jared at length, but it's not really working. Jared definitely knows it's not.
Notes: The infamous, 2.5-year-old bartender!Jensen/patron!Jared fic! Title from Train's "You Already Know." Huge belated thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
queenklu who betaed half of this way back when it first started as a Big Bang for 2010 and pushed me to drive the characters more. More huge thanks to raeschae for her nudging and support and final beta on this in the last few months.
Read on AO3
Jensen
When Jared’s drunk, he lasts longer. He gets handsy. Sometimes he whines. But Jensen’s not going to lie; he loves it. At this moment, fully aware that Jared’s bar tab hit nearly a hundred tonight, and pushing right into his tight, hot hole, Jensen’s smiling down on Jared. And he’s nudging his face into Jared’s hand, welcoming the gentle scrape of fingernails in his growing stubble.
Jared’s legs tighten around Jensen’s waist, tugging him closer, forcing Jensen’s dick deeper on each movement. He’s making all the little noises he always does, a well-known string of uh, uh, hmm, hmm and many other variations. Jensen’s pretty sure that Jared’s close to releasing his criminally good run of filthy talk, but he thinks it’s time he makes a point and moves faster, punching harder and quicker, reveling in the high pitched whimpers that Jared releases as his prostate is hit on each slide in.
While it’s not really known at the bar that they’re doing this, and that’s pretty much Jensen’s doing of avoiding public scenes, there is such a thing as decorum. It’s a fact that after enough alcohol, Jared often lacks it. Jensen’s tired of witnessing the truth and figures he’ll make a point.
Jensen hits harder, faster, feels the cut of Jared’s hips hitting his own and just keeps going. Even through Jared’s groans that border on painful.
Jared breaks, streaking Jensen’s belly, and then Jensen is stalling with the pulse of Jared’s ass, clenching and nearly holding him in place. Just a few more strides and Jensen loses it, comes inside and tries so hard to keep himself up, palms firm in the mattress. He pulls out and then reaches down and smirks at Jared. He runs his finger around the hole, feels Jared flinch, and then his finger eases in, helped by lube and his come.
Jared whimpers again and Jensen’s smirk turns dark as his finger presses in tight against the walls. “Fuck man,” Jared mumbles, smacking Jensen’s arms. He tosses his head to the side and does little to hide the pain.
Jensen pushes harder for a few seconds and then withdraws, but doesn’t waste the chance to tug at the ring with a slight scrape of fingernail. He relishes the wince on Jared’s face and chuckles at him.
“You’re an asshole,” Jared mumbles.
“Learned well,” he returns as he tumbles over Jared to collapse on his back. His eyes flash to the clock: 6:39am. They roll back and close, and he releases a tired sigh.
…
This Sunday afternoon is much like any other. They’re hungover, mumbling to each other about coffee, and it’s Jared who’s up to start a pot on his own in Jensen’s kitchen until Jensen pulls himself out of bed to join him. Jensen rubs at his bare chest and leans in on Jared, dressed only in jeans with the top button undone to show dark boxer briefs. As he is most weekend mornings.
Jared passes a full mug behind him and Jensen instantly takes it, but not before dropping a kiss to Jared’s shoulder with a short bite added on the end. “Fucker,” Jared mutters as he shifts his shoulder away.
Jensen chuckles and turns to the counter, leaning back and facing him. “Maybe next time you won’t be a dick.”
“Yeah? What’d I do this time?”
“This time,” Jensen snorts. “You were all over Cathy.”
“Was not.”
He nods and raises a hand, squeezing air. “All hands and ass.”
Jared relaxes against the counter, takes a long sip, and closes his eyes on the thought. “Which one’s Cathy?”
“From Gianatti’s.”
A few seconds later, Jared’s face sparks with the recognition, but then he’s groaning. “No, I did not. Not her, nuh-uh.”
“Yeah-huh,” Jensen shoots right back. He downs his coffee and puts the mug into the sink. He’s moving to the bedroom without another word, almost ignoring how Jared follows.
“That girl … she’s the one who had the threesome with Chad. I wouldn’t touch her.”
“It is. And you did,” he fires back with a bit of attitude.
It’s not so much that he’s pissed at Jared for flirting and getting playful. He’s pretty sure that Jared’s not going after anyone else no matter how many times he chats up people in the bar. Besides, he comes back to Jensen’s each week without question.
It’s more the fact of who these people are. All the regular weekend drunks, the ones who work at local restaurants and other bars that aren’t fortunate – or unfortunate, depending on one’s point of view – enough to be open until four in the morning, like the place Jensen works. The people like Jared who mosey in half drunk and make the night carry on with more drunkenness than should be appropriate.
Jared nearly crowds him, forcing him to take an extra step or two to not be giving a piggy-back ride. “Aww, baby’s first jealous streak.”
Jensen turns and all but pushes Jared from his path and heads for the bathroom. “What’m I jealous of? The girl who goes after anything with a pulse and a dick?” He’s closing the door, but Jared’s head is pushed into the doorway and Jensen just stares. Until Jared breaks out a pout and wide eyes, playing up the best wounded puppy face he’s used yet. “What?” Jensen sighs.
The corner of Jared’s mouth tilts as he tries to hide a smile. “Thought I’d come in.”
“I’m showering.”
“I’m dirty, too,” he nearly chuckles.
“Don’t I know it?” When he pushes at Jared’s chest and starts to shut the door, Jared holds onto Jensen’s wrist to make it the cause for the door to remain open. Jensen pulls the door open enough to see Jared’s face again. “What?”
Jared moves close in the space so all they can manage to see are their faces. “Is this your way of kicking me out?”
“I was going for subtle.”
“Hate to tell you,” Jared smirks. “Ain’t working.”
“So I noticed.” He sighs when Jared moves in closer. Jensen finally gives in and kisses him, fighting the groan of how ridiculous Jared is in the morning and how he does all he can to overstay his welcome. Or at least, the welcome Jensen has set down. He doesn’t necessarily hate being with Jared in the morning, but he’s all about boundaries and Jared always tests them. When the kiss has lasted long enough, Jensen pushes him back. “’Kay, go.”
Jared rolls his eyes with a sigh of his own and pushes at Jensen’s head. “I hate you.”
Through the shut door, he calls out, “I’m sure that’s why you keep coming back.”
Jensen hears the muttered, “Yeah, and why do you?” but chooses to ignore it.
This is them. Pathetic and too ignorant to be real.
Jared
Jared grabs lunch with Chad, like they do all too often during the week, relishing the swatches of sunlight peaking between tall office buildings. They settle on the front steps of a building halfway between their offices and snack through sandwiches and chips while talking about anything.
Chad surprises him when he bumps his knee. “Saw you talking to Cathy on Saturday.”
He shakes his head, not wanting to admit to it, even when he can’t remember a second of it. “No, I was not.”
With a dark chuckle, Chad smacks the side of Jared’s leg. “You were all over her.”
Another shake of his head, Jared can’t take this. He scrubs a hand through his hair and sighs. Jensen’s said it, now Chad – and that’s the worst part. That someone else noticed. “You really have a threesome with her? She ain’t that hot.”
Chad shrugs and looks at his sandwich, pinpointing his next bite. “She was willing.” Through his chewing, he keeps talking. “I mean, her friends are hot, and I was just getting through to that.”
“Right. That always works.”
“What’d you guys do?”
Jared eats and shakes his head, barely getting out, “Nothing. I didn’t go home with her.”
“Who did you go home with?”
His entire mood shifts low, even when he doesn’t want to consider it. He goes home with Jensen every Friday or Saturday, sometimes both. They fuck for hours, sleep, and then Jared leaves. He’s not quite happy about it, doesn’t want it to be the only pattern. It’s been going on for months and hardly anyone’s the wiser. Though Sandy once caught them exchanging looks and she insisted Jared get on that. When Jared refused and was way too nonchalant for what Sandy was used to seeing, they were made. Chad heard it from her, but he tends to ignore it, pushing Jared in so many other directions, forcing him onto other guys and girls.
Except Jared doesn’t want anyone else. He just wants Jensen to calm the hell down and let something actually evolve between them. But Jensen doesn’t allow for anything to happen outside of the weekly late night, drunken rendezvous, and Jared, against his better judgment, goes with it.
He really wishes he didn’t. Wishes he’d made a point early on and pushed Jensen out beyond this fuck-on-the-weekends-when-drunk phase. But Jensen doesn’t allow much else to happen and Jared … well, sometimes he lets things dissipate and then he’s screwed. Because he really likes Jensen and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to cut him out of his life.
Though he’s getting real tired of it all.
“Wait, lemme guess,” Chad perks up, bouncing his knee. “In the car. You did her in the car, didn’t you?”
“What?” Jared nearly shrieks. “No. I didn’t do anything with her.”
“Why not?”
Jared rolls his eyes, tries to push it to the back of his head. For once, he’s grateful that he drank enough to forget, enough to not have the knowledge of what everyone else saw. He’ll take the taunting from Jensen and Chad and whoever else wants to mention it. It’s better than watching it on replay if his mind could show it.
“Fuck. You kiddin’ me?” Chad whines, and Jared knows he’s pegged. Knows he doesn’t have to utter a word for Chad to know where he’d disappeared to. “Still with that asshole?”
Jared’s ready to argue he’s not an asshole, but the fight has left him on this one. He has no energy to do it, to defend Jensen, no matter how much he wants to.
…
Saturday night again and Jared’s feeling good, packed tight with enchiladas and lubricated with frozen fruity drinks. He and his friends crowd their end of the bar, free with the volume of their voices and little care for anything other than alcohol. Jared repeatedly checks Jensen out, appreciates the lines of his shoulders and back, the strength in his arms as he moves behind the bar, the curve of denim over his ass. He grins when Jensen turns from bending over the cooler and their eyes lock briefly. His smile quirks and his eyes roam again, even when Jensen gets back to his business, because Jared’s still got a great view of Jensen slipping along the bar, reaching under then over to serve other patrons. Jensen’s muscles stretch with each movement and Jared imagines the bulk there, and then he feels a steady thrum in his body that could match Jensen’s energy behind the bar.
Jared’s pulled from his viewing when bumped by Sandy, and she’s smiling way too brightly for her to not mean trouble. Especially when she seems to have brought company. “Jared, John. John, Jared. I work with him.”
And then she’s gone.
He looks at the guy, his height rivaling Jared’s. Soft, side-swept blonde bangs, smooth nose and jawline. There are kind eyes and a kinder smile as he reaches for Jared’s hand and shakes.
They fumble their way through conversations. Jared only half-heartedly listens, and actually gives more attention when Jensen swings by for a refill. He grabs onto Jensen’s hand, holding it to the bartop, and smiles at him. “Two Patrons, on the rocks.”
Jensen’s eyes flicker over Jared’s shoulder to John while he tugs his hand back, but it’s useless. Jared holds on tight, and eventually Jensen relaxes enough to not seem like a threat, so Jared loosens his hand, too. “No Jameson?” Jensen asks with a tiny smile.
“Don’t think that mixes well with Uncle Julio’s.”
In seconds, Jensen’s back with a shaker, two shot glasses, and the bottle. He’s efficiently preparing the shot, but isn’t exactly moving on from watching the guy milling behind Jared’s back. “Big date?”
Jared just tips his head to the side, frowning with a deadly stare, which causes Jensen to laugh.
“You have swirls?”
Jared slowly smiles, remembering the sweetness of the frozen sangria-margarita mix that he’d inhaled through all of dinner and for a while after, before he and his friends came here. “Naturally.”
Jensen nods and pushes the shots forward, but Jared just taps his glass into the other, forcing it back to Jensen. They share a look and Jared raises an eyebrow, doing his best to tempt and taunt as he wraps his lips at the edge of the shot and waits. He sees Jensen’s hard swallow and short head shake. Then Jensen’s lifting it and saluting before dropping it back into his mouth and disappearing.
Over time, Jared orders two more rounds of shots, and Jensen takes them both with him. Jared can see Jensen’s eyes warming to him and how the fingers linger, dancing on the bartop and sliding in spilt liquor. Yet Jensen still won’t give in to the temptation and wiggles away the second it gets too close, tossing a tiny smirk Jared’s way.
It’s beyond infuriating. Jared can’t handle it, becoming angered and hurt at the same time. He turns his energy to John, and they talk for the rest of the night.
Jared still goes home with Jensen. He still doesn’t say a word about it.
Instead, he revels in Jensen’s loose muscles, helped along by the shots Jared bought him, not to mention the way Jared licks up the side of his dick and back down the other. It’s wet and loud, made even louder with Jensen’s lazy drawl. “That tongue. Just work the tongue. Right … yeah, that, just that. Jay, fuck, you suck so good,” he rambles on, uncharacteristically talkative tonight.
Jared takes it, bundles it up in his memory bank, and tells himself to never let this moment go. Never forget what he can do for Jensen, never let Jensen forget it either. So he gets more enthusiastic, pulling at Jensen’s hips and burrowing down as far as his mouth and throat will allow, taking as much of Jensen as is physically possible without depriving himself of too much oxygen for too long. Jensen’s hands thread through his hair. They don’t yank, but comb it off his forehead, and Jared is lost with the touch and vows to get Jensen drunk more often.
With a deep breath, Jared pushes himself even lower, Jensen’s dick fitting at the back of his throat. It elicits whine after whine, and now, Jensen’s fingers clench around the hair as he grinds up into Jared’s mouth.
“Fuck!” Jensen exclaims when Jared stays where he is, when he doesn’t relent. “Shit, Jay, gonna fuck you so good, man. Gonna do it up right. Payback for this. You’re gonna get it so hard.”
Jared swallows, takes a short bit of air through his nose, turns his head, sucks harder, does everything in his power to over-stimulate Jensen and force him to orgasm. He slips up, sucks at the head, and strokes him through it, swallowing everything until Jensen’s a bundle of slack skin and bones. Settling over Jensen’s body, Jared fucks his tongue into Jensen’s mouth, forcing the fact that he’s just obliterated any bit of control Jensen ever had for this moment.
Jensen’s only reply is whimpering through the kiss and trying like hell to hold Jared in place with tight fingers around his biceps.
With his throat ragged from all his effort, Jared asks, “How about that fuck?”
Jensen pushes his head back into the pillow and shuts his eyes tight. “Man … when I recover.”
Jared finds out that recovery is somewhere around eight in the morning with Jensen slipping a spit-slick finger inside before Jared can even open his eyes to the onslaught of fingers and mouth and tongue. It feels ungodly good to be woken up to it, having never been in this position before.
Jensen fucks him with two gifted fingers in his ass and his tongue making an appearance from time to time, until finally, Jared’s begging and Jensen’s relenting, stroking him to come. It blows his mind and he’s a sack of muscle in bed, not wanting to leave, relishing Jensen’s dark chuckle and his quick peck-turned-bite at the shoulder.
He still hates himself when he leaves the apartment two hours later.
...
Sandy rings him later that week with the cheeriest of voices. “You’re gonna love me.”
“Highly doubt it,” he mumbles back while working the lock on his front door. He drops his work bag to the couch and tosses mail across the loveseat, caring so little about where it all lands. “What’d you do now?”
“Got you a date.”
Jared laughs and is about to insist she needn’t do that. Even if he was interested in dating, he could do it himself.
“You need yourself a boyfriend,” she insists.
He shakes his head while rummaging through his fridge. Okay, yeah, he’d like one of those, but he doesn’t really need one, he already has …
She rambles on, clearly knowing his line of thought. “And Jensen doesn’t count. Oh my God, does he not count. Has never counted. Will never count.”
“Sandy, what …” He trails off there, stops cold in his tracks, because he’s closed the fridge door and is staring at picture from the bar. One he’d snapped of Jensen a few weeks ago. While incredibly gorgeous in a fitted white v-neck, his eyebrow is up high and he’s clearly annoyed. Which only reminds Jared of how fucked up the two of them are, how Jensen doesn’t let him in, doesn’t even let him be around more than is necessary. He needs a fucking life beyond Jensen and that bar.
Jared sighs. “What’s his name?”
…
He kind of hates Sandy, because the date is actually pretty nice, definitely not a failure and ranking fairly high on his list of nights out, even when initially awkward.
It’s John, from the week before, and he lights up the evening with tales of being an entertainment writer for one of the city’s major newspapers. He has colorful stories about acts he’s seen, people he’s interviewed, and he peppers his stories with detailed anecdotes that have Jared laughing and smiling fondly through the whole thing.
On top of it, he’s truly interested to hear Jared drone on about his administrative job at Mercy General, how Jared loves traipsing up and down the hallways, encouraging the nursing staff in ICU no matter how many times they see patients come and go, for the better and worse. John acknowledges the heart it takes to be there day in and day out. Jared gives a small smile and nods, knowing himself how much he loves his job and his coworkers and the people they treat.
It’s the first time in months he’s talked about himself, about his career, his daily activities, and where he wants to go with his life. The night couldn’t be better.
Except when John kisses him goodnight, gently and like he’s nervous himself, Jared freezes and thinks of how Jensen kisses. Plump lips, coarse fingertips roaming his neck, a wide, slick tongue. Nowhere near the same thing right here.
There’s guilt running through his body. He hates it, knowing it shouldn’t be there. It has no place in his life. Jensen is not his. Except he’s still sick over it.
He calls Sandy and laments. She doesn’t understand. She gives him shit for not staying on track with a new opportunity.
Naturally, easily, he ignores her, and heads straight to the bar.
Jensen
Jensen likes working at the bar. Really, he does. It’s just that he hates working weekends when everything gets crazy. When everyone goes nuts. During the week, there’s a mellow string of regulars and it closes at two. It’s Fridays and Saturdays when all breaks loose, and it’s like hell released all its worst offenders to keep drinking well beyond what is humanly acceptable. Or possible.
Downsides to his weekdays are the low tips and slow nights. He manages well enough and makes meager tips, but it’s the weekends when the money just pours in. He supposes he can’t complain. Much.
Wednesdays are the slowest night, so he’s surprised that Jared hops up to a barstool and grins at him. The surprise sits more in the fact that it’s already ten and Jared is a regular nine-to-five worker bee who actually follows through with his responsibilities during the week.
He pulls a Lite from the cooler and is half a second from plucking the cap off when Jared frowns and shakes his head.
“No, the other stuff.”
Jensen’s eyebrow goes high as he turns for a highball glass and the bottle of Jameson. His skeptical look is still in place when he pours the drink in front of Jared and watches him take a healthy sip from the glass. Jared releases a low Ahh in appreciation, or relaxation, or just stress release. Jensen’s not sure.
It’s then that he realizes Jared’s not in a regular trendy tee or ugly patterned button-up. He’s clothed in something stylish and almost adult-like.
“Where’re you coming from?” Jensen asks oddly as he puts the bottle back and rests his palms on the bar.
Jared takes a deep breath. “Nowhere. Just a weird day.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
There’s a long look then Jared stares into his glass. “Nothing, don’t worry.”
“What’s wrong?”
With a snort, Jared shakes his head. “You gonna play bar therapy?”
Jensen rolls his eyes. He likes quiet week nights; he’s not up for moods right now. “Suit yourself.” He moves down the line to check in on another patron.
He’ll admit to watching Jared, keeping an eye on him and refilling his glass as soon as it’s near empty. But he doesn’t ask more, just works his way through the night. Though he does note when Danneel serves Jared, fills his glass up for a third time, and leans in to talk and laugh and, he’s sure, flirt.
She’s working tips, he tells himself. The other half asks, What do you care?
He snorts with a flick of an eyebrow and washes another glass. He doesn’t care. He shouldn’t.
Except, before he realizes it, it’s near one. He’s thinking about last call creeping up soon and Jared’s still at the bar. Jared has his hand cupped around the glass and is glaring at it like he’s having a thorough conversation with it.
Without much thought, Jensen pours a tall glass of water and passes it to Jared. They’re both quiet and Jared slowly looks at the water then to Jensen standing right there.
“What’s this?”
“H-two-oh.”
Jared snorts, his head knocking back with the sound, and it’s obvious the liquor’s gotten to him.
Jensen crosses his arms at the bar and taps a finger at the surface. “So, what’s wrong?”
Jared pushes the highball glass at Jensen as he sits up and shakes his head. There’s something there that Jensen wants to ease, but he won’t offer much more than water and this last chance to talk about it. He sees Jared’s throat clench with a tough swallow then Jared leans forward against the bar and takes a deep breath, seeming to prepare himself for his question. “Think I can come by?”
Jensen flicks an eyebrow and looks up and down the bar, logging who’s there and who’s paying any attention. No one is, and for a small second, his pinky reaches out and grazes Jared’s hand. Even with that soft touch, he says, “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
Jared’s mouth twists and he looks to the side as he pushes Jensen’s hand away. Beyond his better judgment, Jensen grabs Jared’s wrist to keep his attention.
“You should probably just go home and sleep it off,” Jensen murmurs. Jared tsks and wrenches his hand away. Jensen lets him, then casually says, “We’re not done ‘til after two, and I’m not gonna keep serving you.”
“I didn’t want …” and Jared shakes his head before glancing around them, which forces Jensen to do the same.
Danneel’s watching and Jensen feels a shock to his belly. He stands up and steps back, grabbing the highball glass and putting it in the sink to his right.
Jared takes a long drink from the water. “I was just asking about hanging out, that’s all.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s one am, and you’ve got work.”
“Right. I forgot. Weekends only,” Jared says, pushing back from the bar and rising.
Jensen catches Danneel moving closer to grab a few bottles out of the nearby cooler. For her, he rolls his eyes, mutters, “Whatever, man,” and doesn’t watch Jared leave.
After she’s served the beers, Danneel plants herself next to Jensen, elbow on the bar and leaning at a cool angle. “What’s wrong with Jared?”
Jensen goes on cleaning glasses and gives a plain, “Hell if I know.”
“I think he needs to get laid,” she says with no real intentions, though Jensen freezes at that anyway. “He’s here all the time and never takes anyone home.”
While he pours a draft beer for himself, Jensen snorts, knowing how true that statement is because Jared’s always going home with him.
She rubs a hand over her hip and tips her head to the side. “Maybe I should.”
He turns quickly, but tries to shield his panic while drinking from the pint glass. “Maybe you should what?”
The hand then seductively roams her stomach and other hip. “Man, I bet he really knows how to take a girl.”
Jensen spits a bit of beer, and turns. “Right, yeah,” he mumbles.
“What? You know something I don’t?” she smirks.
He flips an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“You don’t ever take a look at him? Big boy like that …” She drifts off with a happy sigh, and Jensen sighs.
“I like to keep my life safely compartmentalized.”
Danneel snickers. “And what does that mean? No sex?”
“It means no sex with patrons.” Or being public about it his brain supplies.
“But then what’s the fun in working in a bar?”
It feels awkward that she’s smiling so brightly at him now. As if she’s trying to lay claim to Jared, or maybe she’s making a move on Jensen, because then she slides in close and taps his bottom lip.
“Gotta have fun, Jensen,” she purrs. When he flinches, she laughs heartily. As she steps away to clear glasses, she yanks her towel out of her back pocket then snaps him in the ass with it. “Relax a little, Jen. Life’s too short to think too much.”
…
It’s another busy Friday night with the other bars emptying between one and two, and the hordes rush into theirs. Danneel, Jensen, and even Tom are rushing back and forth to handle the overflow of orders, slipping between each other and the counters, reaching for glasses and bottles, and narrowly smacking each other every time.
Jensen settles back at the corner where a quick run of drunks had been rattling off their order, and he spots Jared. It’s obvious that he’s happier than he was the other night, laughing gleefully to something one of his friends says. Jensen gives him a small smile when their eyes meet. “Whatcha need?” he asks, nodding at him.
Jared leans on the bar, elbows edging out other patrons who are smashed up against it. He’s drunk already, and something flares in Jensen’s belly, but it’s squashed the minute Jared starts talking, voice dark and sneaky, like he’s seducing and slipping under Jensen’s skin. “Whatever you’ve got.”
He wants to bite Jared’s head off for wasting time screwing around, but with the mess of people around them, he doesn’t even have time for that. “Miller Lite? Jameson?”
“Both!” Jared says, eyes lighting up and a grin breaking across his face. “Make it three shots and four beers.” As Jensen turns away, Jared covers his hand and squeezes. “You want one, too?”
Jensen pulls it away immediately, fights the scowl, and just shakes his head before hurrying to fill the order.
As he works the tops off the beers, he’s muttering to himself and Danneel falls into place beside him to open her own bottles. “Look at Jared. He’s out for ass tonight.”
“Yeah? Haven’t noticed.”
“Everyone has.”
When he looks over, he finally sees Jared, sees the fitted sweater that just barely reaches his jeans. At least it likely should fully cover him, but with every shift there’s a slip of golden skin and underwear. The handful of people in his conversation are close and a short brunette keeps swiping her hand at his hip as they talk, as she leans up and in close to be heard. Her fingers touch Jared’s bare skin, squeeze, and hold on while she gets on her tip toes.
That does it. That’s what it takes for Jensen to finally watch and think about later, and to wish that he didn’t have such issue with people in bars and drunken hook-ups. Because he wants to touch that skin and taste the sweat, and then he’s bumped by Tom and taken out of it all.
When he gets back to Jared with the beers, he’s warmed from head to toe, but ignoring it in the name of pouring three shots across the bar.
“Hey,” Jared says lowly. When Jensen looks up, Jared’s smirking and leaning across the bar, totally ignoring anyone else around him. Even that girl who couldn’t stop touching him. “You’re lookin’ good tonight.”
“Thanks,” Jensen says quickly, going right back to the shots as he fills them up dangerously close to the top.
“Is that the navy blue? Can’t tell in this light.”
He shuts his eyes for a second to steady himself. Yeah, Jensen dresses with intention for work. He knows which colors work with his eyes, or make his tan pop, or fit his chest and arms and hang at his hips just right. He also knows which ones in particular Jared prefers, and this navy blue v-neck is one of Jared’s favorites. He knows this, but he hadn’t exactly taken that into account when dressing before his shift. At least he thinks he didn't.
Without another thought, Jensen slaps another shot glass on the bar, fills it. He raises it up to Jared’s and nods with a muttered, “Cheers.” He knocks it back with Jared’s eyes on him the whole time, but he doesn’t look again. Not while he snags a few empties off the counter and not while Jared slides his credit card across the bar and asks to open a tab.
He can feel Jared’s eyes burning into his back with every movement. Whenever he chances a look to the far end of the bar, Jared’s there with the regulars. They’re all talking excitingly, getting wasted, hitting on each other with all the liquid courage they can afford. Jared has his arm around the petite brunette and is inappropriately close to her. Jensen’s stomach twists and his mind bends, trying to figure it out. He’s seen her before, knows she knows other people in the crowd who come every Saturday, and that almost bugs him more. Jared’s falling into the trap, will just screw anyone else in the bar because they had a thing go awry the other night.
There’s no reason to be mad, no jealousy needed. Jensen knows he’s an asshole when it comes to Jared. He doesn’t let things happen and doesn’t allow Jared inside. Not where it counts, where Jared wants to be. He knows he has no justification in being pissed at Jared for his roaming hand that, over the next twenty minutes, doesn’t seem to decide between grazing her side with his thumb coursing a line along the edge of her bra, her lower back, or even ghosting over the curve of her ass.
At the middle of the bar, a few girls are inhaling vodka cranberries and ordering lemon drops and red-headed sluts. When they flag him over, he smirks, working them up for the tips. “Ladies, you want more?”
The blonde slips a hand over his elbow and smiles right back. “Of course we do, what d’you say?”
“Same round?”
“Shots!” a redhead calls out, and the others chorus in. “Something sweet,” she says with a seductive smile, “But hard.”
He laughs and keeps on laughing to himself as he pours Southern Comfort into a shaker with ice and squirts lemon juice on top. He flexes as he pounds the shaker in front of them, all but leering and pouring with a flourish across four shot glass. They each reach for one and he grabs the last, raising it in the air.
“To hot bartenders!” the blonde yells.
He flicks his eyebrows as he downs it with them, grinning when they wince with the strength of the harsh liquor. He grabs the glasses and turns to put them in the sink, instantly catching Jared staring. Jensen subtly nods at him then to the side and Jared immediately disengages himself from the brunette, rolling his head towards the hallway just off to his left.
As Danneel slides past with her hands full of bottles, Jensen grab her hips to stop and he mumbles his excuse to step away for a moment. She complains about the customers, how full the place is, but he ignores it and moves out from the bar and to the hallway leading to the office.
Jared’s there in seconds and Jensen pushes him into the tiny office and against the wall. His mind rages on, berating Jared for his behavior, for being so obvious and touching that girl. Genevieve, Jensen thinks with suddenly clarity, even with Jared’s tongue wet and all around the inside of his mouth.
Jensen sucks on it, hard and rough like he wants to blow Jared, like he wants Jared on him, but he doesn’t ask for it. Just pushes in tighter so they can feel each other.
It’s Jared who starts talking, mumbling through the kisses. “Saw you with those girls. You want them? Wanna fuck them?” His fingers are tugging on Jensen’s belt loops, keeping Jensen in place as Jared rolls his hips and their dicks cross beneath denim. “Want them to suck you off?”
Jensen finally speaks, grabbing the back of Jared’s neck and forcing him closer. “No. Want you to.”
Jared dips his fingers into the back of Jensen’s jeans, the length of them slipping into his crack. “Right here?”
His voice is hard, dark, purposeful. “Right now, right here. Just do it.”
In seconds, Jared’s on his knees, unbuttoning and peeling Jensen’s pants and boxer briefs away, and then stroking his dick. He looks up with a short moment of hesitation. They’ve never messed around at the bar. There was the first time they’d ever kissed in the parking lot, but it ended there. The bar is off limits, no matter what.
“Jay, just fucking do it,” Jensen insists, feeling the need coil in his belly. His breathing is sharp and burns, and then his fingers thread through Jared’s hair as his voice drops. “Do it how you do.”
Jared licks his lips and takes Jensen into his mouth, humming with Jensen’s immediate moan. He moves slow at first, keeping with Jensen’s easy nudges at his head, but then Jensen starts moving his hips forward and Jared takes it enthusiastically. Jared moves faster and it’s sloppy and loud, even with the muddled sound of music from inside the bar. Jensen can’t stop the little noises escaping his mouth, either. Little whimpers and groans and muttered pleading.
Jared shifts his head, changes angles, lets Jensen’s dick bump the inside of his check, the far reaches of his throat, working it masterfully, which blows Jensen’s mind considering how much Jared’s had to drink.
Jensen feels heady with the shots he’d also downed in the last hour and now this. Jared on his knees, sucking and licking like he’s dying for it. Jensen grabs at Jared’s hair with a murmured, “Hey, hey, Jay, wait,” in warning.
It’s a loud pop when Jared moves back, but he squeezes at the base of Jensen’s dick and looks up with heavy eyes while his tongue reaches out to pad over the head. Jensen tips his face to the ceiling with a soft groan. Jared’s tongue curls around Jensen’s dick, teases the hole, runs under the rim, and Jensen looks back down. He pushes the hair off Jared’s forehead, slowly shaking his head, and trying so hard to not come, trying to keep these sensations as long as he can because everything is tingling heading to toe and then it’s sparking wherever Jared licks.
Jared takes him again, tongue flattening cross the head, moving all around it and inching it back in with maddening patience. It’s when Jensen sees his dick pressing inside Jared’s cheek, stretching and obvious, that he loses it. He moves into Jared’s mouth for a few quick strokes, pressing his hands into Jared’s cheeks so he can feel himself inside, and then he stutters, shakes, and comes in Jared’s mouth with a groan.
When Jensen settles back against the wall, Jared’s got a shit eating grin, and Jensen slowly smiles back. The smile tips up when Jared stands and his dick is hard and obvious in his jeans.
Jared leans forward, pushing into Jensen’s mouth so they both taste him, and Jensen can’t help the moan because it reminds him of how good it just was. Jared mumbles against him, “You gonna take care of this?” as he pulls Jensen in tight to feel him.
Jensen nudges him back, against the opposite wall and at arm’s length. “You do it.” Jared’s confusion is obvious, and Jensen eases it by saying, “I’ll watch you do it.”
Jared’s eyes widen as does his smile and he undoes his pants and pulls himself out. He strokes slowly and it looks more like he’s just holding himself than anything, but Jensen can see how Jared’s moving right into the hand. No matter how leisurely it is, Jensen’s turned right back on. “You wanna watch me?” Jared murmurs.
With the flip of his stomach, Jensen grabs onto Jared’s hips and nods, not even conscious of it until he says, “Fuck, yeah. I wanna watch.”
Jared leans back against the wall, eyes on Jensen as he starts stroking in earnest and his other hand tugs his sweater up his chest. Jensen is pinned by Jared’s stare until he sees Jared’s abs clench as he gets faster and Jensen has to watch that. His fingers tighten around Jared’s hips and begin guiding him into the hand, still watching as Jared’s fingers curl around his dick and slide up and down, faster and faster as his dick is long, red, and leaking. His precome slicks the way and the sound of skin on wet skin causes Jensen to stop breathing, not wanting any of his sounds louder than that.
He’s grateful for that because then he has Jared’s loud breathing and the slap of skin in his ear for the longest time. Until Jared’s breathing hitches and he slows down, making his usual hmm noises, ones that get higher until he jacks himself quick and hard, and then he comes on his stomach.
“Oh, God,” Jensen murmurs as his hands move across Jared’s belly, thumbs spreading the come over his tanned skin, almost iridescent in the dull light of the office. There’s a pressure in his chest at the whole thing. Having told Jared that he wanted that, having Jared do it, and to then stare at the results, to feel it on the pads of his thumbs.
Jared’s flat to the wall, spent with his eyes closed and head tipped back. Jensen grabs a bar towel and wipes him down, then moves in to kiss. It’s surprisingly languid, almost meaningful for a moment; he takes his time and enjoys the slowness of their mouths together, feels something warm inside with it. Jensen tries to ignore that, he really does. But he knows.
Keeping Jared at arm’s length has been his standard. No sex in the bar is his rule.
And now he’s fucked them all to hell.
…
Truth be told, Jensen’s has had his eye on Jared since the first time he served him, fitting the tall, dark, and handsome type to a T. Jensen had felt instantly eased by Jared’s smile and his laughter, even got roped into his sense of humor and they got along well.
Jared didn’t come alone; every time he stepped foot in the place, he was huddled with no less than five others. Most of them worked at the local restaurants and came half in uniform, using the night’s tips to cover their drinks. Jensen had soon enough found out that Jared and Chad were friends with a few others and then got to know so many other regulars in the place.
Which only caused inter-bar breeding.
Which meant everyone had slept with anyone in the place – and continued to. Which pissed Jensen off more than any possible thing in the world.
He once made his own mistake in sleeping with a patron who got around far too much. Every time the guy milled around, flirting his way with someone else, Jensen cringed, knowing he’d been there before. Since then he’s witnessed more than enough late night, drunken hookups turn into more before crumbling and becoming more fodder for gossip. He didn’t want to get into that again, couldn’t manage to allow himself to, which is why it took so long to actually get to know Jared.
Jared certainly tried, picking up on his role as Jensen’s soft spot, but Jensen still fended off all advances.
The first night Jensen let anything happen, he struggled against it well before.
Jared had stepped up to the bar on a slow night around Labor Day, when so much of the regular Saturday night rush was off at end-of-summer celebrations. “Jen-sen,” Jared drawled out with a sly look.
Jensen sighed with a playful roll of the eyes while putting clean glasses into a line under the bar.
“What?”
“When you gonna give me a chance?”
“About never.”
Jared leaned onto the bar, pushing himself over the side to watch Jensen work. H frowned. “What? I’m a good looking guy. You’re a good looking guy. Let’s have some good-looking fun.”
“That is the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
“Come on,” he whined, sitting on a stool and tipping his head.
Jensen smirked and leaned on the bar with a critical eye. “You actually use that voice? How the hell you get laid with that?”
Jared bristled and shifted in place, trying to hide a brief wince. “I do fine.”
With a flick of an eyebrow, Jensen tapped the surface and walked down the line to serve another group, calling out, “I’m pretty sure your hand doesn’t count.”
“Man, that hurts,” he joked with a frown. “You’re cuttin’ real deep now.”
Jensen came back to pour drinks and then made a show of looking at Jared, reaching beneath the bar and coming back with a hard slap on the top. When he was gone, Jared laughed at the Band-Aid staring back at him.
But it didn’t keep Jared away, because he stayed all night, smiling at Jensen when no one forced him to leave after last call, when no one made a fuss then the bar cleared and they counted out tips and registers. He grinned even harder when Jensen served him another beer.
In the parking lot, Jensen lost all major thought, backing Jared up against his truck and kissing him first carefully then wet and rough. They’d spent seven months dancing around each other, Jensen always fighting back, expelling more energy than was likely necessary when he knew he would fall.
It was another three weeks of lowkey flirting and Jensen shooting him sly glances before Jared asked “Wanna go somewhere else?” after last call.
Jensen snapped his gum with an interested eyebrow and went back to cleaning up without word. When Jared looked like he was wrapping up his drinking, not interested in waiting around anymore, Jensen excused himself. He left Danneel and Tom finish the night out and met Jared in the parking lot. They’d gone to Jensen’s; he wouldn’t let himself go anywhere else.
No matter how long Jared had sucked him off, no matter how much Jared keened against Jensen’s fingers and made all the right moves and noises while they slowly screwed each other mad, Jensen pushed down his guilt when he kicked Jared out in the morning.
The second Jared was out the door, Jensen knew he was fucked, because the remorse came up like bile. And he couldn’t say no to Jared at the bar, took him home every time Jared asked, but never gave anything else.
…
Chris isn’t a regular, but he’s known. Whenever he’s in the bar, he makes a splash of an appearance and Jensen’s always rolling his eyes at him. Chris’s attitude has been bad enough that he’s gotten himself booted from the place a few times before. Jensen always keeps on eye on him, fully in tune to Chris’s inability to control his temper. They grew up next door to one another, got into enough bouts throughout grade school, and even fought each other when Jensen had enough of his shit as adults.
Jensen always keeps a critical eye on him to make sure there’s no issue.
And of course, there is, because he’s talking with a girl who’s new to Jared’s little group, one Chad had been pawing all night. One that Jensen immediately recognizes from other times Chris has been in here.
He knows it’s over the second Chad eyes Chris, because even beyond Chris’s obnoxious nature, Chad’s in a class all his own.
It unreels like so many other bar fights that Jensen’s had to split up and force outdoors. Chad glances over then talks to his friends before looking over again, this time enraged and jumpy to move. He stalks right over to Chris, slipping between him and the girl, and raising his head well above Chris, who’s obviously losing in the height debate.
“You got a problem, man?” Chris asks easily, but there’s more in his gaze, taking Chad in from top to bottom.
Jensen can read the judgment in Chris’s eyes; he’s ready and willing to take Chad’s rail-thin body.
Chad pushes Chris away from the girl. “Not anymore.”
“Well, maybe I do now. You interrupted my conversation.”
The girl slips away, pathetically groping Chad’s elbow and trying to get him out of it. It doesn’t work, and Chad’s not going to back down.
There are a few more words, smirks, huffs of breath, and then the fists fly. Jensen’s launching himself over the bar and reaching them long before the bouncers can thread through the circling mass. He yanks Chad away just after pushing a forceful hand into Chris’s chest. He shoves repeatedly and then bodily blocks Chad from getting back into it. Jensen meets Jared’s eyes when Jared pulls on Chad from behind and holds him, one arm around Chad’s arms and the other around his throat to keep him stable.
Jensen sees all the patrons up on their feet, some excitedly so, others hysterical and scooting out of the way. He grabs heavy fistfuls of Chris’s shirt and hauls him across the floor and out the side door. With a good shove, Chris stumbles to the pavement, forced over with a hand to the ground to keep him as upright as possible. “Motherfucker,” Chris grunts in return as he rises to a tough stance, daring Jensen.
“Stay the hell outta my bar.”
Chris looks up at the awning and laughs. “I don’t see Ackles up there. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Jensen moves forward, so tired of this guy and his act, tired of breaking up his fights and putting his ass to the sidewalk. “I’m the asshole who keeps kicking you out. Now stay – the fuck – out,” he forces out with steely eyes, just inches from Chris’.
Chris quickly forces Jensen out of his space and in an instant, Jared’s pushing his way between them and Chad’s jumping right back in to slug Chris into the ground.
Jensen’s shouting every curse word he knows while pulling Chad off Chris. He even points a firm finger at Jared and orders, “Keep him the fuck away.”
Jared pushes Chad to the brick wall of the building, but doesn’t take his eyes off Jensen. Jensen’s still brewing, pissed as hell that this is how it goes down. Especially when he realizes half the bar has spilled out to watch.
Jensen gets back in Chris’s face with a finger between them. “You come in here again, I swear to God – ”
“Get the fuck out of my face,” he complains as he pushes sharp hands into Jensen’s face, punching and shoving.
They’re scrabbling against each other. Chris lands a hard left fist to Jensen’s cheek, and Jensen yanks at Chris’s hair. He wraps a hand in Chris’s shirt and with one hard push, he knocks Chris down to the ground. Jensen follows on hard knees with a harder hand into Chris’s windpipe. “I said, stay out of my bar.”
Someone tugs on Jensen’s arm and he’s jumpy, flinching and elbowing back into Jared’s face before he can realize it. Jared winces, but he moves back in and pulls Jensen up as a patrol car whips into the lot and two cops rush in to handle the situation.
Jensen’s not bleeding, but his cheek is tender and he holds a rag with ice that Danneel brought him. He winces every time he brings it up to his face, but he tries to keep it there often enough to alleviate the pain of raw skin. A headache builds on that side of his face as he has to give his report of the fight to the cops.
It’s late enough that the police push and prod until Jensen and Danneel have no choice but to close shop and get everyone out. He’s inside cleaning up the bar while Danneel’s taking care of the tables, and he’s doing a pretty damn good job ignoring Jared re-entering. Until Jared reaches over the bar and into a cooler to nab a bottle. Jensen yanks it from his grasp and puts it back. “We’re closed.”
“Dude, I fucking … ” He sighs before pointing at his own budding black eye. “You think this deserves a beer or what?”
Jensen slides down to wash more glasses, snapping them onto the drain pads without a word.
“Need I remind you,” Jared says, “you elbowed the shit outta my head when I was trying to help you.”
Jensen looks up for a second, flashes a shitty smile, and lets out an equally shitty tone. “Yeah? That’s awesome. Too bad I didn’t ask you to.”
Jared sighs and lifts up off his seat enough to grab shot glasses and spreads them across the bar in front of him. “You need a shot, asshole.” He looks around and spots Danneel in the far corner. He calls out, “You ready for something hard and strong, sweetheart?”
Danneel laughs and turns from the table she’s been wiping down to cross the room. “I’m always ready for it.”
“See,” Jared smirks at Jensen. “She’s up for it.”
Jensen snatches the glasses back. “Great, go fuck her tonight.”
“What the hell?!”
Jensen finally snaps, unable to keep it in and refusing to care that Danneel’s right there next to Jared. In fact, it all reminds him of what pisses him off day and in day out about Jared and his friends. Someone’s always there. “No, fuck you! It’s your dickhead friends who start shit all the fucking time, and then I gotta put my neck out there to stop it all.”
“My dickhead friends?” Jared bitches back. “As I recall, it was Chris Kane who started shit. And I believe he was your childhood BFF.”
Danneel’s attention flips between them and she tries to get between them, she really does, but Jensen just shouts right over her. “If Chad could keep a hold on himself, or even bother keeping his dick in his pants for one night, this wouldn’t be a problem. That was Chris’s girlfriend, dumbass.”
Jared stalls, lips parted and eyes dulling as he stares back at Jensen. “Fuck,” he whispers.
Danneel touches Jensen’s forearm and carefully says, “Jen,” before he shrugs away.
He glances at her and thinks on it, but decides he’s had enough. He leans over the bar and gets as close to Jared as possible without his feet leaving the floor. “You wonder why I don’t wanna say anything or do anything? Because you’ve fucked enough people here for me to watch my back and wonder who’s gonna step up to me.”
To his credit, Jared looks guilty and then thoughtful as he reaches for Jensen’s hands with a quiet, “Hey, c’mon, man,” but Jensen pulls away as soon as he can.
It doesn’t take much, now that he’s said his piece, to end the conversation. He removes the towel from his back pocket with a flourish and drops it on the bar then leaves.
He’s so tired when he gets home that he doesn’t imagine releasing all his frustrations with more liquor, mindless television, or even jerking off. He collapses face first to bed and focuses on the burn of his lungs as he struggles to stabilize his breathing.
In the morning, it’s not much better. His only response is to call out that night.
next
Words: 16000
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jensen tends bar at a local hangout that stays open too late and never has anything good happen in it - bad hookups, ugly fights, love gone sour. He thinks he's keeping Jared at length, but it's not really working. Jared definitely knows it's not.
Notes: The infamous, 2.5-year-old bartender!Jensen/patron!Jared fic! Title from Train's "You Already Know." Huge belated thanks to
queenklu who betaed half of this way back when it first started as a Big Bang for 2010 and pushed me to drive the characters more. More huge thanks to raeschae for her nudging and support and final beta on this in the last few months. Read on AO3
Jensen
When Jared’s drunk, he lasts longer. He gets handsy. Sometimes he whines. But Jensen’s not going to lie; he loves it. At this moment, fully aware that Jared’s bar tab hit nearly a hundred tonight, and pushing right into his tight, hot hole, Jensen’s smiling down on Jared. And he’s nudging his face into Jared’s hand, welcoming the gentle scrape of fingernails in his growing stubble.
Jared’s legs tighten around Jensen’s waist, tugging him closer, forcing Jensen’s dick deeper on each movement. He’s making all the little noises he always does, a well-known string of uh, uh, hmm, hmm and many other variations. Jensen’s pretty sure that Jared’s close to releasing his criminally good run of filthy talk, but he thinks it’s time he makes a point and moves faster, punching harder and quicker, reveling in the high pitched whimpers that Jared releases as his prostate is hit on each slide in.
While it’s not really known at the bar that they’re doing this, and that’s pretty much Jensen’s doing of avoiding public scenes, there is such a thing as decorum. It’s a fact that after enough alcohol, Jared often lacks it. Jensen’s tired of witnessing the truth and figures he’ll make a point.
Jensen hits harder, faster, feels the cut of Jared’s hips hitting his own and just keeps going. Even through Jared’s groans that border on painful.
Jared breaks, streaking Jensen’s belly, and then Jensen is stalling with the pulse of Jared’s ass, clenching and nearly holding him in place. Just a few more strides and Jensen loses it, comes inside and tries so hard to keep himself up, palms firm in the mattress. He pulls out and then reaches down and smirks at Jared. He runs his finger around the hole, feels Jared flinch, and then his finger eases in, helped by lube and his come.
Jared whimpers again and Jensen’s smirk turns dark as his finger presses in tight against the walls. “Fuck man,” Jared mumbles, smacking Jensen’s arms. He tosses his head to the side and does little to hide the pain.
Jensen pushes harder for a few seconds and then withdraws, but doesn’t waste the chance to tug at the ring with a slight scrape of fingernail. He relishes the wince on Jared’s face and chuckles at him.
“You’re an asshole,” Jared mumbles.
“Learned well,” he returns as he tumbles over Jared to collapse on his back. His eyes flash to the clock: 6:39am. They roll back and close, and he releases a tired sigh.
…
This Sunday afternoon is much like any other. They’re hungover, mumbling to each other about coffee, and it’s Jared who’s up to start a pot on his own in Jensen’s kitchen until Jensen pulls himself out of bed to join him. Jensen rubs at his bare chest and leans in on Jared, dressed only in jeans with the top button undone to show dark boxer briefs. As he is most weekend mornings.
Jared passes a full mug behind him and Jensen instantly takes it, but not before dropping a kiss to Jared’s shoulder with a short bite added on the end. “Fucker,” Jared mutters as he shifts his shoulder away.
Jensen chuckles and turns to the counter, leaning back and facing him. “Maybe next time you won’t be a dick.”
“Yeah? What’d I do this time?”
“This time,” Jensen snorts. “You were all over Cathy.”
“Was not.”
He nods and raises a hand, squeezing air. “All hands and ass.”
Jared relaxes against the counter, takes a long sip, and closes his eyes on the thought. “Which one’s Cathy?”
“From Gianatti’s.”
A few seconds later, Jared’s face sparks with the recognition, but then he’s groaning. “No, I did not. Not her, nuh-uh.”
“Yeah-huh,” Jensen shoots right back. He downs his coffee and puts the mug into the sink. He’s moving to the bedroom without another word, almost ignoring how Jared follows.
“That girl … she’s the one who had the threesome with Chad. I wouldn’t touch her.”
“It is. And you did,” he fires back with a bit of attitude.
It’s not so much that he’s pissed at Jared for flirting and getting playful. He’s pretty sure that Jared’s not going after anyone else no matter how many times he chats up people in the bar. Besides, he comes back to Jensen’s each week without question.
It’s more the fact of who these people are. All the regular weekend drunks, the ones who work at local restaurants and other bars that aren’t fortunate – or unfortunate, depending on one’s point of view – enough to be open until four in the morning, like the place Jensen works. The people like Jared who mosey in half drunk and make the night carry on with more drunkenness than should be appropriate.
Jared nearly crowds him, forcing him to take an extra step or two to not be giving a piggy-back ride. “Aww, baby’s first jealous streak.”
Jensen turns and all but pushes Jared from his path and heads for the bathroom. “What’m I jealous of? The girl who goes after anything with a pulse and a dick?” He’s closing the door, but Jared’s head is pushed into the doorway and Jensen just stares. Until Jared breaks out a pout and wide eyes, playing up the best wounded puppy face he’s used yet. “What?” Jensen sighs.
The corner of Jared’s mouth tilts as he tries to hide a smile. “Thought I’d come in.”
“I’m showering.”
“I’m dirty, too,” he nearly chuckles.
“Don’t I know it?” When he pushes at Jared’s chest and starts to shut the door, Jared holds onto Jensen’s wrist to make it the cause for the door to remain open. Jensen pulls the door open enough to see Jared’s face again. “What?”
Jared moves close in the space so all they can manage to see are their faces. “Is this your way of kicking me out?”
“I was going for subtle.”
“Hate to tell you,” Jared smirks. “Ain’t working.”
“So I noticed.” He sighs when Jared moves in closer. Jensen finally gives in and kisses him, fighting the groan of how ridiculous Jared is in the morning and how he does all he can to overstay his welcome. Or at least, the welcome Jensen has set down. He doesn’t necessarily hate being with Jared in the morning, but he’s all about boundaries and Jared always tests them. When the kiss has lasted long enough, Jensen pushes him back. “’Kay, go.”
Jared rolls his eyes with a sigh of his own and pushes at Jensen’s head. “I hate you.”
Through the shut door, he calls out, “I’m sure that’s why you keep coming back.”
Jensen hears the muttered, “Yeah, and why do you?” but chooses to ignore it.
This is them. Pathetic and too ignorant to be real.
Jared
Jared grabs lunch with Chad, like they do all too often during the week, relishing the swatches of sunlight peaking between tall office buildings. They settle on the front steps of a building halfway between their offices and snack through sandwiches and chips while talking about anything.
Chad surprises him when he bumps his knee. “Saw you talking to Cathy on Saturday.”
He shakes his head, not wanting to admit to it, even when he can’t remember a second of it. “No, I was not.”
With a dark chuckle, Chad smacks the side of Jared’s leg. “You were all over her.”
Another shake of his head, Jared can’t take this. He scrubs a hand through his hair and sighs. Jensen’s said it, now Chad – and that’s the worst part. That someone else noticed. “You really have a threesome with her? She ain’t that hot.”
Chad shrugs and looks at his sandwich, pinpointing his next bite. “She was willing.” Through his chewing, he keeps talking. “I mean, her friends are hot, and I was just getting through to that.”
“Right. That always works.”
“What’d you guys do?”
Jared eats and shakes his head, barely getting out, “Nothing. I didn’t go home with her.”
“Who did you go home with?”
His entire mood shifts low, even when he doesn’t want to consider it. He goes home with Jensen every Friday or Saturday, sometimes both. They fuck for hours, sleep, and then Jared leaves. He’s not quite happy about it, doesn’t want it to be the only pattern. It’s been going on for months and hardly anyone’s the wiser. Though Sandy once caught them exchanging looks and she insisted Jared get on that. When Jared refused and was way too nonchalant for what Sandy was used to seeing, they were made. Chad heard it from her, but he tends to ignore it, pushing Jared in so many other directions, forcing him onto other guys and girls.
Except Jared doesn’t want anyone else. He just wants Jensen to calm the hell down and let something actually evolve between them. But Jensen doesn’t allow for anything to happen outside of the weekly late night, drunken rendezvous, and Jared, against his better judgment, goes with it.
He really wishes he didn’t. Wishes he’d made a point early on and pushed Jensen out beyond this fuck-on-the-weekends-when-drunk phase. But Jensen doesn’t allow much else to happen and Jared … well, sometimes he lets things dissipate and then he’s screwed. Because he really likes Jensen and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to cut him out of his life.
Though he’s getting real tired of it all.
“Wait, lemme guess,” Chad perks up, bouncing his knee. “In the car. You did her in the car, didn’t you?”
“What?” Jared nearly shrieks. “No. I didn’t do anything with her.”
“Why not?”
Jared rolls his eyes, tries to push it to the back of his head. For once, he’s grateful that he drank enough to forget, enough to not have the knowledge of what everyone else saw. He’ll take the taunting from Jensen and Chad and whoever else wants to mention it. It’s better than watching it on replay if his mind could show it.
“Fuck. You kiddin’ me?” Chad whines, and Jared knows he’s pegged. Knows he doesn’t have to utter a word for Chad to know where he’d disappeared to. “Still with that asshole?”
Jared’s ready to argue he’s not an asshole, but the fight has left him on this one. He has no energy to do it, to defend Jensen, no matter how much he wants to.
…
Saturday night again and Jared’s feeling good, packed tight with enchiladas and lubricated with frozen fruity drinks. He and his friends crowd their end of the bar, free with the volume of their voices and little care for anything other than alcohol. Jared repeatedly checks Jensen out, appreciates the lines of his shoulders and back, the strength in his arms as he moves behind the bar, the curve of denim over his ass. He grins when Jensen turns from bending over the cooler and their eyes lock briefly. His smile quirks and his eyes roam again, even when Jensen gets back to his business, because Jared’s still got a great view of Jensen slipping along the bar, reaching under then over to serve other patrons. Jensen’s muscles stretch with each movement and Jared imagines the bulk there, and then he feels a steady thrum in his body that could match Jensen’s energy behind the bar.
Jared’s pulled from his viewing when bumped by Sandy, and she’s smiling way too brightly for her to not mean trouble. Especially when she seems to have brought company. “Jared, John. John, Jared. I work with him.”
And then she’s gone.
He looks at the guy, his height rivaling Jared’s. Soft, side-swept blonde bangs, smooth nose and jawline. There are kind eyes and a kinder smile as he reaches for Jared’s hand and shakes.
They fumble their way through conversations. Jared only half-heartedly listens, and actually gives more attention when Jensen swings by for a refill. He grabs onto Jensen’s hand, holding it to the bartop, and smiles at him. “Two Patrons, on the rocks.”
Jensen’s eyes flicker over Jared’s shoulder to John while he tugs his hand back, but it’s useless. Jared holds on tight, and eventually Jensen relaxes enough to not seem like a threat, so Jared loosens his hand, too. “No Jameson?” Jensen asks with a tiny smile.
“Don’t think that mixes well with Uncle Julio’s.”
In seconds, Jensen’s back with a shaker, two shot glasses, and the bottle. He’s efficiently preparing the shot, but isn’t exactly moving on from watching the guy milling behind Jared’s back. “Big date?”
Jared just tips his head to the side, frowning with a deadly stare, which causes Jensen to laugh.
“You have swirls?”
Jared slowly smiles, remembering the sweetness of the frozen sangria-margarita mix that he’d inhaled through all of dinner and for a while after, before he and his friends came here. “Naturally.”
Jensen nods and pushes the shots forward, but Jared just taps his glass into the other, forcing it back to Jensen. They share a look and Jared raises an eyebrow, doing his best to tempt and taunt as he wraps his lips at the edge of the shot and waits. He sees Jensen’s hard swallow and short head shake. Then Jensen’s lifting it and saluting before dropping it back into his mouth and disappearing.
Over time, Jared orders two more rounds of shots, and Jensen takes them both with him. Jared can see Jensen’s eyes warming to him and how the fingers linger, dancing on the bartop and sliding in spilt liquor. Yet Jensen still won’t give in to the temptation and wiggles away the second it gets too close, tossing a tiny smirk Jared’s way.
It’s beyond infuriating. Jared can’t handle it, becoming angered and hurt at the same time. He turns his energy to John, and they talk for the rest of the night.
Jared still goes home with Jensen. He still doesn’t say a word about it.
Instead, he revels in Jensen’s loose muscles, helped along by the shots Jared bought him, not to mention the way Jared licks up the side of his dick and back down the other. It’s wet and loud, made even louder with Jensen’s lazy drawl. “That tongue. Just work the tongue. Right … yeah, that, just that. Jay, fuck, you suck so good,” he rambles on, uncharacteristically talkative tonight.
Jared takes it, bundles it up in his memory bank, and tells himself to never let this moment go. Never forget what he can do for Jensen, never let Jensen forget it either. So he gets more enthusiastic, pulling at Jensen’s hips and burrowing down as far as his mouth and throat will allow, taking as much of Jensen as is physically possible without depriving himself of too much oxygen for too long. Jensen’s hands thread through his hair. They don’t yank, but comb it off his forehead, and Jared is lost with the touch and vows to get Jensen drunk more often.
With a deep breath, Jared pushes himself even lower, Jensen’s dick fitting at the back of his throat. It elicits whine after whine, and now, Jensen’s fingers clench around the hair as he grinds up into Jared’s mouth.
“Fuck!” Jensen exclaims when Jared stays where he is, when he doesn’t relent. “Shit, Jay, gonna fuck you so good, man. Gonna do it up right. Payback for this. You’re gonna get it so hard.”
Jared swallows, takes a short bit of air through his nose, turns his head, sucks harder, does everything in his power to over-stimulate Jensen and force him to orgasm. He slips up, sucks at the head, and strokes him through it, swallowing everything until Jensen’s a bundle of slack skin and bones. Settling over Jensen’s body, Jared fucks his tongue into Jensen’s mouth, forcing the fact that he’s just obliterated any bit of control Jensen ever had for this moment.
Jensen’s only reply is whimpering through the kiss and trying like hell to hold Jared in place with tight fingers around his biceps.
With his throat ragged from all his effort, Jared asks, “How about that fuck?”
Jensen pushes his head back into the pillow and shuts his eyes tight. “Man … when I recover.”
Jared finds out that recovery is somewhere around eight in the morning with Jensen slipping a spit-slick finger inside before Jared can even open his eyes to the onslaught of fingers and mouth and tongue. It feels ungodly good to be woken up to it, having never been in this position before.
Jensen fucks him with two gifted fingers in his ass and his tongue making an appearance from time to time, until finally, Jared’s begging and Jensen’s relenting, stroking him to come. It blows his mind and he’s a sack of muscle in bed, not wanting to leave, relishing Jensen’s dark chuckle and his quick peck-turned-bite at the shoulder.
He still hates himself when he leaves the apartment two hours later.
...
Sandy rings him later that week with the cheeriest of voices. “You’re gonna love me.”
“Highly doubt it,” he mumbles back while working the lock on his front door. He drops his work bag to the couch and tosses mail across the loveseat, caring so little about where it all lands. “What’d you do now?”
“Got you a date.”
Jared laughs and is about to insist she needn’t do that. Even if he was interested in dating, he could do it himself.
“You need yourself a boyfriend,” she insists.
He shakes his head while rummaging through his fridge. Okay, yeah, he’d like one of those, but he doesn’t really need one, he already has …
She rambles on, clearly knowing his line of thought. “And Jensen doesn’t count. Oh my God, does he not count. Has never counted. Will never count.”
“Sandy, what …” He trails off there, stops cold in his tracks, because he’s closed the fridge door and is staring at picture from the bar. One he’d snapped of Jensen a few weeks ago. While incredibly gorgeous in a fitted white v-neck, his eyebrow is up high and he’s clearly annoyed. Which only reminds Jared of how fucked up the two of them are, how Jensen doesn’t let him in, doesn’t even let him be around more than is necessary. He needs a fucking life beyond Jensen and that bar.
Jared sighs. “What’s his name?”
…
He kind of hates Sandy, because the date is actually pretty nice, definitely not a failure and ranking fairly high on his list of nights out, even when initially awkward.
It’s John, from the week before, and he lights up the evening with tales of being an entertainment writer for one of the city’s major newspapers. He has colorful stories about acts he’s seen, people he’s interviewed, and he peppers his stories with detailed anecdotes that have Jared laughing and smiling fondly through the whole thing.
On top of it, he’s truly interested to hear Jared drone on about his administrative job at Mercy General, how Jared loves traipsing up and down the hallways, encouraging the nursing staff in ICU no matter how many times they see patients come and go, for the better and worse. John acknowledges the heart it takes to be there day in and day out. Jared gives a small smile and nods, knowing himself how much he loves his job and his coworkers and the people they treat.
It’s the first time in months he’s talked about himself, about his career, his daily activities, and where he wants to go with his life. The night couldn’t be better.
Except when John kisses him goodnight, gently and like he’s nervous himself, Jared freezes and thinks of how Jensen kisses. Plump lips, coarse fingertips roaming his neck, a wide, slick tongue. Nowhere near the same thing right here.
There’s guilt running through his body. He hates it, knowing it shouldn’t be there. It has no place in his life. Jensen is not his. Except he’s still sick over it.
He calls Sandy and laments. She doesn’t understand. She gives him shit for not staying on track with a new opportunity.
Naturally, easily, he ignores her, and heads straight to the bar.
Jensen
Jensen likes working at the bar. Really, he does. It’s just that he hates working weekends when everything gets crazy. When everyone goes nuts. During the week, there’s a mellow string of regulars and it closes at two. It’s Fridays and Saturdays when all breaks loose, and it’s like hell released all its worst offenders to keep drinking well beyond what is humanly acceptable. Or possible.
Downsides to his weekdays are the low tips and slow nights. He manages well enough and makes meager tips, but it’s the weekends when the money just pours in. He supposes he can’t complain. Much.
Wednesdays are the slowest night, so he’s surprised that Jared hops up to a barstool and grins at him. The surprise sits more in the fact that it’s already ten and Jared is a regular nine-to-five worker bee who actually follows through with his responsibilities during the week.
He pulls a Lite from the cooler and is half a second from plucking the cap off when Jared frowns and shakes his head.
“No, the other stuff.”
Jensen’s eyebrow goes high as he turns for a highball glass and the bottle of Jameson. His skeptical look is still in place when he pours the drink in front of Jared and watches him take a healthy sip from the glass. Jared releases a low Ahh in appreciation, or relaxation, or just stress release. Jensen’s not sure.
It’s then that he realizes Jared’s not in a regular trendy tee or ugly patterned button-up. He’s clothed in something stylish and almost adult-like.
“Where’re you coming from?” Jensen asks oddly as he puts the bottle back and rests his palms on the bar.
Jared takes a deep breath. “Nowhere. Just a weird day.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
There’s a long look then Jared stares into his glass. “Nothing, don’t worry.”
“What’s wrong?”
With a snort, Jared shakes his head. “You gonna play bar therapy?”
Jensen rolls his eyes. He likes quiet week nights; he’s not up for moods right now. “Suit yourself.” He moves down the line to check in on another patron.
He’ll admit to watching Jared, keeping an eye on him and refilling his glass as soon as it’s near empty. But he doesn’t ask more, just works his way through the night. Though he does note when Danneel serves Jared, fills his glass up for a third time, and leans in to talk and laugh and, he’s sure, flirt.
She’s working tips, he tells himself. The other half asks, What do you care?
He snorts with a flick of an eyebrow and washes another glass. He doesn’t care. He shouldn’t.
Except, before he realizes it, it’s near one. He’s thinking about last call creeping up soon and Jared’s still at the bar. Jared has his hand cupped around the glass and is glaring at it like he’s having a thorough conversation with it.
Without much thought, Jensen pours a tall glass of water and passes it to Jared. They’re both quiet and Jared slowly looks at the water then to Jensen standing right there.
“What’s this?”
“H-two-oh.”
Jared snorts, his head knocking back with the sound, and it’s obvious the liquor’s gotten to him.
Jensen crosses his arms at the bar and taps a finger at the surface. “So, what’s wrong?”
Jared pushes the highball glass at Jensen as he sits up and shakes his head. There’s something there that Jensen wants to ease, but he won’t offer much more than water and this last chance to talk about it. He sees Jared’s throat clench with a tough swallow then Jared leans forward against the bar and takes a deep breath, seeming to prepare himself for his question. “Think I can come by?”
Jensen flicks an eyebrow and looks up and down the bar, logging who’s there and who’s paying any attention. No one is, and for a small second, his pinky reaches out and grazes Jared’s hand. Even with that soft touch, he says, “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
Jared’s mouth twists and he looks to the side as he pushes Jensen’s hand away. Beyond his better judgment, Jensen grabs Jared’s wrist to keep his attention.
“You should probably just go home and sleep it off,” Jensen murmurs. Jared tsks and wrenches his hand away. Jensen lets him, then casually says, “We’re not done ‘til after two, and I’m not gonna keep serving you.”
“I didn’t want …” and Jared shakes his head before glancing around them, which forces Jensen to do the same.
Danneel’s watching and Jensen feels a shock to his belly. He stands up and steps back, grabbing the highball glass and putting it in the sink to his right.
Jared takes a long drink from the water. “I was just asking about hanging out, that’s all.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s one am, and you’ve got work.”
“Right. I forgot. Weekends only,” Jared says, pushing back from the bar and rising.
Jensen catches Danneel moving closer to grab a few bottles out of the nearby cooler. For her, he rolls his eyes, mutters, “Whatever, man,” and doesn’t watch Jared leave.
After she’s served the beers, Danneel plants herself next to Jensen, elbow on the bar and leaning at a cool angle. “What’s wrong with Jared?”
Jensen goes on cleaning glasses and gives a plain, “Hell if I know.”
“I think he needs to get laid,” she says with no real intentions, though Jensen freezes at that anyway. “He’s here all the time and never takes anyone home.”
While he pours a draft beer for himself, Jensen snorts, knowing how true that statement is because Jared’s always going home with him.
She rubs a hand over her hip and tips her head to the side. “Maybe I should.”
He turns quickly, but tries to shield his panic while drinking from the pint glass. “Maybe you should what?”
The hand then seductively roams her stomach and other hip. “Man, I bet he really knows how to take a girl.”
Jensen spits a bit of beer, and turns. “Right, yeah,” he mumbles.
“What? You know something I don’t?” she smirks.
He flips an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“You don’t ever take a look at him? Big boy like that …” She drifts off with a happy sigh, and Jensen sighs.
“I like to keep my life safely compartmentalized.”
Danneel snickers. “And what does that mean? No sex?”
“It means no sex with patrons.” Or being public about it his brain supplies.
“But then what’s the fun in working in a bar?”
It feels awkward that she’s smiling so brightly at him now. As if she’s trying to lay claim to Jared, or maybe she’s making a move on Jensen, because then she slides in close and taps his bottom lip.
“Gotta have fun, Jensen,” she purrs. When he flinches, she laughs heartily. As she steps away to clear glasses, she yanks her towel out of her back pocket then snaps him in the ass with it. “Relax a little, Jen. Life’s too short to think too much.”
…
It’s another busy Friday night with the other bars emptying between one and two, and the hordes rush into theirs. Danneel, Jensen, and even Tom are rushing back and forth to handle the overflow of orders, slipping between each other and the counters, reaching for glasses and bottles, and narrowly smacking each other every time.
Jensen settles back at the corner where a quick run of drunks had been rattling off their order, and he spots Jared. It’s obvious that he’s happier than he was the other night, laughing gleefully to something one of his friends says. Jensen gives him a small smile when their eyes meet. “Whatcha need?” he asks, nodding at him.
Jared leans on the bar, elbows edging out other patrons who are smashed up against it. He’s drunk already, and something flares in Jensen’s belly, but it’s squashed the minute Jared starts talking, voice dark and sneaky, like he’s seducing and slipping under Jensen’s skin. “Whatever you’ve got.”
He wants to bite Jared’s head off for wasting time screwing around, but with the mess of people around them, he doesn’t even have time for that. “Miller Lite? Jameson?”
“Both!” Jared says, eyes lighting up and a grin breaking across his face. “Make it three shots and four beers.” As Jensen turns away, Jared covers his hand and squeezes. “You want one, too?”
Jensen pulls it away immediately, fights the scowl, and just shakes his head before hurrying to fill the order.
As he works the tops off the beers, he’s muttering to himself and Danneel falls into place beside him to open her own bottles. “Look at Jared. He’s out for ass tonight.”
“Yeah? Haven’t noticed.”
“Everyone has.”
When he looks over, he finally sees Jared, sees the fitted sweater that just barely reaches his jeans. At least it likely should fully cover him, but with every shift there’s a slip of golden skin and underwear. The handful of people in his conversation are close and a short brunette keeps swiping her hand at his hip as they talk, as she leans up and in close to be heard. Her fingers touch Jared’s bare skin, squeeze, and hold on while she gets on her tip toes.
That does it. That’s what it takes for Jensen to finally watch and think about later, and to wish that he didn’t have such issue with people in bars and drunken hook-ups. Because he wants to touch that skin and taste the sweat, and then he’s bumped by Tom and taken out of it all.
When he gets back to Jared with the beers, he’s warmed from head to toe, but ignoring it in the name of pouring three shots across the bar.
“Hey,” Jared says lowly. When Jensen looks up, Jared’s smirking and leaning across the bar, totally ignoring anyone else around him. Even that girl who couldn’t stop touching him. “You’re lookin’ good tonight.”
“Thanks,” Jensen says quickly, going right back to the shots as he fills them up dangerously close to the top.
“Is that the navy blue? Can’t tell in this light.”
He shuts his eyes for a second to steady himself. Yeah, Jensen dresses with intention for work. He knows which colors work with his eyes, or make his tan pop, or fit his chest and arms and hang at his hips just right. He also knows which ones in particular Jared prefers, and this navy blue v-neck is one of Jared’s favorites. He knows this, but he hadn’t exactly taken that into account when dressing before his shift. At least he thinks he didn't.
Without another thought, Jensen slaps another shot glass on the bar, fills it. He raises it up to Jared’s and nods with a muttered, “Cheers.” He knocks it back with Jared’s eyes on him the whole time, but he doesn’t look again. Not while he snags a few empties off the counter and not while Jared slides his credit card across the bar and asks to open a tab.
He can feel Jared’s eyes burning into his back with every movement. Whenever he chances a look to the far end of the bar, Jared’s there with the regulars. They’re all talking excitingly, getting wasted, hitting on each other with all the liquid courage they can afford. Jared has his arm around the petite brunette and is inappropriately close to her. Jensen’s stomach twists and his mind bends, trying to figure it out. He’s seen her before, knows she knows other people in the crowd who come every Saturday, and that almost bugs him more. Jared’s falling into the trap, will just screw anyone else in the bar because they had a thing go awry the other night.
There’s no reason to be mad, no jealousy needed. Jensen knows he’s an asshole when it comes to Jared. He doesn’t let things happen and doesn’t allow Jared inside. Not where it counts, where Jared wants to be. He knows he has no justification in being pissed at Jared for his roaming hand that, over the next twenty minutes, doesn’t seem to decide between grazing her side with his thumb coursing a line along the edge of her bra, her lower back, or even ghosting over the curve of her ass.
At the middle of the bar, a few girls are inhaling vodka cranberries and ordering lemon drops and red-headed sluts. When they flag him over, he smirks, working them up for the tips. “Ladies, you want more?”
The blonde slips a hand over his elbow and smiles right back. “Of course we do, what d’you say?”
“Same round?”
“Shots!” a redhead calls out, and the others chorus in. “Something sweet,” she says with a seductive smile, “But hard.”
He laughs and keeps on laughing to himself as he pours Southern Comfort into a shaker with ice and squirts lemon juice on top. He flexes as he pounds the shaker in front of them, all but leering and pouring with a flourish across four shot glass. They each reach for one and he grabs the last, raising it in the air.
“To hot bartenders!” the blonde yells.
He flicks his eyebrows as he downs it with them, grinning when they wince with the strength of the harsh liquor. He grabs the glasses and turns to put them in the sink, instantly catching Jared staring. Jensen subtly nods at him then to the side and Jared immediately disengages himself from the brunette, rolling his head towards the hallway just off to his left.
As Danneel slides past with her hands full of bottles, Jensen grab her hips to stop and he mumbles his excuse to step away for a moment. She complains about the customers, how full the place is, but he ignores it and moves out from the bar and to the hallway leading to the office.
Jared’s there in seconds and Jensen pushes him into the tiny office and against the wall. His mind rages on, berating Jared for his behavior, for being so obvious and touching that girl. Genevieve, Jensen thinks with suddenly clarity, even with Jared’s tongue wet and all around the inside of his mouth.
Jensen sucks on it, hard and rough like he wants to blow Jared, like he wants Jared on him, but he doesn’t ask for it. Just pushes in tighter so they can feel each other.
It’s Jared who starts talking, mumbling through the kisses. “Saw you with those girls. You want them? Wanna fuck them?” His fingers are tugging on Jensen’s belt loops, keeping Jensen in place as Jared rolls his hips and their dicks cross beneath denim. “Want them to suck you off?”
Jensen finally speaks, grabbing the back of Jared’s neck and forcing him closer. “No. Want you to.”
Jared dips his fingers into the back of Jensen’s jeans, the length of them slipping into his crack. “Right here?”
His voice is hard, dark, purposeful. “Right now, right here. Just do it.”
In seconds, Jared’s on his knees, unbuttoning and peeling Jensen’s pants and boxer briefs away, and then stroking his dick. He looks up with a short moment of hesitation. They’ve never messed around at the bar. There was the first time they’d ever kissed in the parking lot, but it ended there. The bar is off limits, no matter what.
“Jay, just fucking do it,” Jensen insists, feeling the need coil in his belly. His breathing is sharp and burns, and then his fingers thread through Jared’s hair as his voice drops. “Do it how you do.”
Jared licks his lips and takes Jensen into his mouth, humming with Jensen’s immediate moan. He moves slow at first, keeping with Jensen’s easy nudges at his head, but then Jensen starts moving his hips forward and Jared takes it enthusiastically. Jared moves faster and it’s sloppy and loud, even with the muddled sound of music from inside the bar. Jensen can’t stop the little noises escaping his mouth, either. Little whimpers and groans and muttered pleading.
Jared shifts his head, changes angles, lets Jensen’s dick bump the inside of his check, the far reaches of his throat, working it masterfully, which blows Jensen’s mind considering how much Jared’s had to drink.
Jensen feels heady with the shots he’d also downed in the last hour and now this. Jared on his knees, sucking and licking like he’s dying for it. Jensen grabs at Jared’s hair with a murmured, “Hey, hey, Jay, wait,” in warning.
It’s a loud pop when Jared moves back, but he squeezes at the base of Jensen’s dick and looks up with heavy eyes while his tongue reaches out to pad over the head. Jensen tips his face to the ceiling with a soft groan. Jared’s tongue curls around Jensen’s dick, teases the hole, runs under the rim, and Jensen looks back down. He pushes the hair off Jared’s forehead, slowly shaking his head, and trying so hard to not come, trying to keep these sensations as long as he can because everything is tingling heading to toe and then it’s sparking wherever Jared licks.
Jared takes him again, tongue flattening cross the head, moving all around it and inching it back in with maddening patience. It’s when Jensen sees his dick pressing inside Jared’s cheek, stretching and obvious, that he loses it. He moves into Jared’s mouth for a few quick strokes, pressing his hands into Jared’s cheeks so he can feel himself inside, and then he stutters, shakes, and comes in Jared’s mouth with a groan.
When Jensen settles back against the wall, Jared’s got a shit eating grin, and Jensen slowly smiles back. The smile tips up when Jared stands and his dick is hard and obvious in his jeans.
Jared leans forward, pushing into Jensen’s mouth so they both taste him, and Jensen can’t help the moan because it reminds him of how good it just was. Jared mumbles against him, “You gonna take care of this?” as he pulls Jensen in tight to feel him.
Jensen nudges him back, against the opposite wall and at arm’s length. “You do it.” Jared’s confusion is obvious, and Jensen eases it by saying, “I’ll watch you do it.”
Jared’s eyes widen as does his smile and he undoes his pants and pulls himself out. He strokes slowly and it looks more like he’s just holding himself than anything, but Jensen can see how Jared’s moving right into the hand. No matter how leisurely it is, Jensen’s turned right back on. “You wanna watch me?” Jared murmurs.
With the flip of his stomach, Jensen grabs onto Jared’s hips and nods, not even conscious of it until he says, “Fuck, yeah. I wanna watch.”
Jared leans back against the wall, eyes on Jensen as he starts stroking in earnest and his other hand tugs his sweater up his chest. Jensen is pinned by Jared’s stare until he sees Jared’s abs clench as he gets faster and Jensen has to watch that. His fingers tighten around Jared’s hips and begin guiding him into the hand, still watching as Jared’s fingers curl around his dick and slide up and down, faster and faster as his dick is long, red, and leaking. His precome slicks the way and the sound of skin on wet skin causes Jensen to stop breathing, not wanting any of his sounds louder than that.
He’s grateful for that because then he has Jared’s loud breathing and the slap of skin in his ear for the longest time. Until Jared’s breathing hitches and he slows down, making his usual hmm noises, ones that get higher until he jacks himself quick and hard, and then he comes on his stomach.
“Oh, God,” Jensen murmurs as his hands move across Jared’s belly, thumbs spreading the come over his tanned skin, almost iridescent in the dull light of the office. There’s a pressure in his chest at the whole thing. Having told Jared that he wanted that, having Jared do it, and to then stare at the results, to feel it on the pads of his thumbs.
Jared’s flat to the wall, spent with his eyes closed and head tipped back. Jensen grabs a bar towel and wipes him down, then moves in to kiss. It’s surprisingly languid, almost meaningful for a moment; he takes his time and enjoys the slowness of their mouths together, feels something warm inside with it. Jensen tries to ignore that, he really does. But he knows.
Keeping Jared at arm’s length has been his standard. No sex in the bar is his rule.
And now he’s fucked them all to hell.
…
Truth be told, Jensen’s has had his eye on Jared since the first time he served him, fitting the tall, dark, and handsome type to a T. Jensen had felt instantly eased by Jared’s smile and his laughter, even got roped into his sense of humor and they got along well.
Jared didn’t come alone; every time he stepped foot in the place, he was huddled with no less than five others. Most of them worked at the local restaurants and came half in uniform, using the night’s tips to cover their drinks. Jensen had soon enough found out that Jared and Chad were friends with a few others and then got to know so many other regulars in the place.
Which only caused inter-bar breeding.
Which meant everyone had slept with anyone in the place – and continued to. Which pissed Jensen off more than any possible thing in the world.
He once made his own mistake in sleeping with a patron who got around far too much. Every time the guy milled around, flirting his way with someone else, Jensen cringed, knowing he’d been there before. Since then he’s witnessed more than enough late night, drunken hookups turn into more before crumbling and becoming more fodder for gossip. He didn’t want to get into that again, couldn’t manage to allow himself to, which is why it took so long to actually get to know Jared.
Jared certainly tried, picking up on his role as Jensen’s soft spot, but Jensen still fended off all advances.
The first night Jensen let anything happen, he struggled against it well before.
Jared had stepped up to the bar on a slow night around Labor Day, when so much of the regular Saturday night rush was off at end-of-summer celebrations. “Jen-sen,” Jared drawled out with a sly look.
Jensen sighed with a playful roll of the eyes while putting clean glasses into a line under the bar.
“What?”
“When you gonna give me a chance?”
“About never.”
Jared leaned onto the bar, pushing himself over the side to watch Jensen work. H frowned. “What? I’m a good looking guy. You’re a good looking guy. Let’s have some good-looking fun.”
“That is the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
“Come on,” he whined, sitting on a stool and tipping his head.
Jensen smirked and leaned on the bar with a critical eye. “You actually use that voice? How the hell you get laid with that?”
Jared bristled and shifted in place, trying to hide a brief wince. “I do fine.”
With a flick of an eyebrow, Jensen tapped the surface and walked down the line to serve another group, calling out, “I’m pretty sure your hand doesn’t count.”
“Man, that hurts,” he joked with a frown. “You’re cuttin’ real deep now.”
Jensen came back to pour drinks and then made a show of looking at Jared, reaching beneath the bar and coming back with a hard slap on the top. When he was gone, Jared laughed at the Band-Aid staring back at him.
But it didn’t keep Jared away, because he stayed all night, smiling at Jensen when no one forced him to leave after last call, when no one made a fuss then the bar cleared and they counted out tips and registers. He grinned even harder when Jensen served him another beer.
In the parking lot, Jensen lost all major thought, backing Jared up against his truck and kissing him first carefully then wet and rough. They’d spent seven months dancing around each other, Jensen always fighting back, expelling more energy than was likely necessary when he knew he would fall.
It was another three weeks of lowkey flirting and Jensen shooting him sly glances before Jared asked “Wanna go somewhere else?” after last call.
Jensen snapped his gum with an interested eyebrow and went back to cleaning up without word. When Jared looked like he was wrapping up his drinking, not interested in waiting around anymore, Jensen excused himself. He left Danneel and Tom finish the night out and met Jared in the parking lot. They’d gone to Jensen’s; he wouldn’t let himself go anywhere else.
No matter how long Jared had sucked him off, no matter how much Jared keened against Jensen’s fingers and made all the right moves and noises while they slowly screwed each other mad, Jensen pushed down his guilt when he kicked Jared out in the morning.
The second Jared was out the door, Jensen knew he was fucked, because the remorse came up like bile. And he couldn’t say no to Jared at the bar, took him home every time Jared asked, but never gave anything else.
…
Chris isn’t a regular, but he’s known. Whenever he’s in the bar, he makes a splash of an appearance and Jensen’s always rolling his eyes at him. Chris’s attitude has been bad enough that he’s gotten himself booted from the place a few times before. Jensen always keeps on eye on him, fully in tune to Chris’s inability to control his temper. They grew up next door to one another, got into enough bouts throughout grade school, and even fought each other when Jensen had enough of his shit as adults.
Jensen always keeps a critical eye on him to make sure there’s no issue.
And of course, there is, because he’s talking with a girl who’s new to Jared’s little group, one Chad had been pawing all night. One that Jensen immediately recognizes from other times Chris has been in here.
He knows it’s over the second Chad eyes Chris, because even beyond Chris’s obnoxious nature, Chad’s in a class all his own.
It unreels like so many other bar fights that Jensen’s had to split up and force outdoors. Chad glances over then talks to his friends before looking over again, this time enraged and jumpy to move. He stalks right over to Chris, slipping between him and the girl, and raising his head well above Chris, who’s obviously losing in the height debate.
“You got a problem, man?” Chris asks easily, but there’s more in his gaze, taking Chad in from top to bottom.
Jensen can read the judgment in Chris’s eyes; he’s ready and willing to take Chad’s rail-thin body.
Chad pushes Chris away from the girl. “Not anymore.”
“Well, maybe I do now. You interrupted my conversation.”
The girl slips away, pathetically groping Chad’s elbow and trying to get him out of it. It doesn’t work, and Chad’s not going to back down.
There are a few more words, smirks, huffs of breath, and then the fists fly. Jensen’s launching himself over the bar and reaching them long before the bouncers can thread through the circling mass. He yanks Chad away just after pushing a forceful hand into Chris’s chest. He shoves repeatedly and then bodily blocks Chad from getting back into it. Jensen meets Jared’s eyes when Jared pulls on Chad from behind and holds him, one arm around Chad’s arms and the other around his throat to keep him stable.
Jensen sees all the patrons up on their feet, some excitedly so, others hysterical and scooting out of the way. He grabs heavy fistfuls of Chris’s shirt and hauls him across the floor and out the side door. With a good shove, Chris stumbles to the pavement, forced over with a hand to the ground to keep him as upright as possible. “Motherfucker,” Chris grunts in return as he rises to a tough stance, daring Jensen.
“Stay the hell outta my bar.”
Chris looks up at the awning and laughs. “I don’t see Ackles up there. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Jensen moves forward, so tired of this guy and his act, tired of breaking up his fights and putting his ass to the sidewalk. “I’m the asshole who keeps kicking you out. Now stay – the fuck – out,” he forces out with steely eyes, just inches from Chris’.
Chris quickly forces Jensen out of his space and in an instant, Jared’s pushing his way between them and Chad’s jumping right back in to slug Chris into the ground.
Jensen’s shouting every curse word he knows while pulling Chad off Chris. He even points a firm finger at Jared and orders, “Keep him the fuck away.”
Jared pushes Chad to the brick wall of the building, but doesn’t take his eyes off Jensen. Jensen’s still brewing, pissed as hell that this is how it goes down. Especially when he realizes half the bar has spilled out to watch.
Jensen gets back in Chris’s face with a finger between them. “You come in here again, I swear to God – ”
“Get the fuck out of my face,” he complains as he pushes sharp hands into Jensen’s face, punching and shoving.
They’re scrabbling against each other. Chris lands a hard left fist to Jensen’s cheek, and Jensen yanks at Chris’s hair. He wraps a hand in Chris’s shirt and with one hard push, he knocks Chris down to the ground. Jensen follows on hard knees with a harder hand into Chris’s windpipe. “I said, stay out of my bar.”
Someone tugs on Jensen’s arm and he’s jumpy, flinching and elbowing back into Jared’s face before he can realize it. Jared winces, but he moves back in and pulls Jensen up as a patrol car whips into the lot and two cops rush in to handle the situation.
Jensen’s not bleeding, but his cheek is tender and he holds a rag with ice that Danneel brought him. He winces every time he brings it up to his face, but he tries to keep it there often enough to alleviate the pain of raw skin. A headache builds on that side of his face as he has to give his report of the fight to the cops.
It’s late enough that the police push and prod until Jensen and Danneel have no choice but to close shop and get everyone out. He’s inside cleaning up the bar while Danneel’s taking care of the tables, and he’s doing a pretty damn good job ignoring Jared re-entering. Until Jared reaches over the bar and into a cooler to nab a bottle. Jensen yanks it from his grasp and puts it back. “We’re closed.”
“Dude, I fucking … ” He sighs before pointing at his own budding black eye. “You think this deserves a beer or what?”
Jensen slides down to wash more glasses, snapping them onto the drain pads without a word.
“Need I remind you,” Jared says, “you elbowed the shit outta my head when I was trying to help you.”
Jensen looks up for a second, flashes a shitty smile, and lets out an equally shitty tone. “Yeah? That’s awesome. Too bad I didn’t ask you to.”
Jared sighs and lifts up off his seat enough to grab shot glasses and spreads them across the bar in front of him. “You need a shot, asshole.” He looks around and spots Danneel in the far corner. He calls out, “You ready for something hard and strong, sweetheart?”
Danneel laughs and turns from the table she’s been wiping down to cross the room. “I’m always ready for it.”
“See,” Jared smirks at Jensen. “She’s up for it.”
Jensen snatches the glasses back. “Great, go fuck her tonight.”
“What the hell?!”
Jensen finally snaps, unable to keep it in and refusing to care that Danneel’s right there next to Jared. In fact, it all reminds him of what pisses him off day and in day out about Jared and his friends. Someone’s always there. “No, fuck you! It’s your dickhead friends who start shit all the fucking time, and then I gotta put my neck out there to stop it all.”
“My dickhead friends?” Jared bitches back. “As I recall, it was Chris Kane who started shit. And I believe he was your childhood BFF.”
Danneel’s attention flips between them and she tries to get between them, she really does, but Jensen just shouts right over her. “If Chad could keep a hold on himself, or even bother keeping his dick in his pants for one night, this wouldn’t be a problem. That was Chris’s girlfriend, dumbass.”
Jared stalls, lips parted and eyes dulling as he stares back at Jensen. “Fuck,” he whispers.
Danneel touches Jensen’s forearm and carefully says, “Jen,” before he shrugs away.
He glances at her and thinks on it, but decides he’s had enough. He leans over the bar and gets as close to Jared as possible without his feet leaving the floor. “You wonder why I don’t wanna say anything or do anything? Because you’ve fucked enough people here for me to watch my back and wonder who’s gonna step up to me.”
To his credit, Jared looks guilty and then thoughtful as he reaches for Jensen’s hands with a quiet, “Hey, c’mon, man,” but Jensen pulls away as soon as he can.
It doesn’t take much, now that he’s said his piece, to end the conversation. He removes the towel from his back pocket with a flourish and drops it on the bar then leaves.
He’s so tired when he gets home that he doesn’t imagine releasing all his frustrations with more liquor, mindless television, or even jerking off. He collapses face first to bed and focuses on the burn of his lungs as he struggles to stabilize his breathing.
In the morning, it’s not much better. His only response is to call out that night.
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