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Title:  “And You Can Tell Everybody”  (Part 1/4)

Author: Gwenknight

Pairing:  Jensen/Jared

Other characters:  Christian Kane, Mike Rosenbaum, Tom Welling

Rating:  NC17

Disclaimer:  Total fiction, no money made, no harm intended

Notes:   Written for the J2AU “Summer Song Challenge”

Prompt/Song:  “Your Song” by Elton John

Author’s Notes:  I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing the first time

I heard this song and I’ve loved it ever since. 



“And You Can Tell Everybody”


Part One


“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

I don’t have much money but, boy if I did

I’d buy a big house where we both could live”


Jared loves his brand new house in Vancouver.  He loves not living out of a hotel anymore.  He loves being able to make all the noise he wants to, at any hour of the day or night, because Jared’s just not a quiet kind of guy.  Ever. He loves being able to have all his stuff in one place, out of storage, up from LA, and even stuff he’d gotten his mom to ship him from back home.  Cause no one can mock him in his own house for his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle collection, right?  He loves having a huge yard for Sadie and Harley to run around in.  He loves that Supernatural finally locked in the five-year deal, so he’ll have a good, long while to live in his brand new house.


There’s only one thing he doesn’t love about it.  Well, other than the Evil Washing Machine of Doom in the laundry room, which is the reason that Jared is currently standing in his kitchen wearing his last clean boxers, a t-shirt from his pre-gym days that could probably fit his little sister now, one argyle sock that he thinks he somehow acquired the last time he tried to play golf with Jen, and one Bart Simpson sock.  Because The Machine has inexplicably either shrunk the rest of his clothes to Mini-Me size or, in the case of his socks, just plain gobbled them up.  He thinks it’s possessed and is just about to the point of calling Ghostfacers to the damn thing.  He really sort of misses the hotel laundry service and knows he’s got to get a handle on this whole laundry doing business before he runs completely out of clothes.  He’s down now to his favorite stuff that he can’t risk feeding to the Evil Machine and he’s getting desperate.


He leans against the counter, eating a bowl of Count Chocula, and thinks about the only other thing he doesn’t love and that’s the fact that Jensen isn’t living in Jared’s bright, shiny new house. 


Jared has only been in the house for a few weeks and there hasn’t been a day that Jensen hasn’t spent time here.  He’d even been with Jared when he’d found it.  He’d come along on every house hunting trip the realtor had arranged, because he said he’d known that Jared would pick the first one he came across with a yard big enough for his ginormous dogs and a rec room big enough for his ginormous screen TV and the mandatory gaming systems and pool table, without taking into consideration there would actually be grown-up rooms in the house.  So, in Jared’s best interest, he’d accompanied them every time, knocking on walls, crawling into fireplaces, checking pipes, and exhausting the realtor with a jillion questions about insulation and beams and termite inspections and solar panels until Jared’s head was spinning. He’s pretty sure his name has been put on the Realtor’s Crazy Customer Blacklist and faxed all over Vancouver and the surrounding area. 


They’d looked at a dozen houses before finding this one, but, once they’d seen it, it had only taken them a few minutes to say “yes”.  It had the yard and the rec room.  It was in a secluded area, behind a decorative wrought-iron gate, safe from overzealous fangirls.  Not too far from the city.  Polished wood floors and warm paneling.  High ceilings and smooth granite countertops.  Enough skylights and solar panels to satisfy Jensen’s eco-obsession and, best of all, a master bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the wide expanse of lawn and the thick woods that backed up to the property.  The grass, vibrant green from all the rain back in the spring, sloped gently to meet the thick stand of evergreens, interspersed with flowering Japanese maples and alders, which bordered the back yard. 


Jared had come up behind Jensen as he’d stood looking out those windows.  Wrapped his arms around him, kissed the back of his neck and proclaimed that lying in bed together, all sleepy and sexed out, and watching the morning sun break through those trees would be the best thing ever, right?   Jensen had laughed and kissed him back and declared that this was definitely the place, although he’d opt for watching the sunset, if Jared didn’t mind, thank you very much.  Sexed out or not, Jen was not a morning person. 


Jared had signed on the dotted line and promptly dubbed the place “The Roadhouse”, in part a salute to the show that was paying for it and, in part, because he planned to have many friends and much drinking underneath his roof.  And, sex.  Lots and lots of sex.  He and Jen had spent the first weekend there with nothing but two sleeping bags, take-out menus, and several cases of beer.  They’d christened every single room.  Hot, sweaty, urgent, acrobatic sex in the living room.   Up-against-the-wall sex in the foyer.  Limber, bendy sex on the basement stairs.  Shower sex.  Back yard sex.  Kitchen counter sex.  And, best of all,  carpet sex on the bedroom floor in front of those tall, tall windows, long and slow and lazy and perfect.  At sunset. 


Now, standing in the kitchen in his mismatched socks, drinking the last of the milk from his cereal bowl, he thinks he’s got everything in the world he’s ever wanted.  Except a user friendly washing machine and a boyfriend who doesn’t have a separate address.  Because even though Jared had added his extra house key to Jensen’s key ring when the realtor had handed them over, Jensen still stubbornly hangs onto his own apartment, because he apparently has issues.  


But, Jared’s a man with a plan.  He’ll call his mom for washing machine advice, because she’d kept him clean for 20 some odd years, so she’s gotta have some special Laundry Mojo. 


And, Jensen?  He knows Jensen.  He knows Jensen like nobody else does.  His ins and outs.  His obsessions and compulsions and twists and turns.  He knows what pisses him off, what makes him laugh, what he’ll eat, what he’ll wear, and what he won’t waste his time with.  He knows the sounds he makes when he’s about to come, the broken way he groans Jared’s name when he’s breaking apart underneath him.  He knows that Jensen loves him, knows that without a shadow of a doubt.


Armed with all that knowing, Jared’s sure it’s just a matter of time before he wears Jensen down.  Before he strips away all those walls and barriers, one by one, all the shit that’s keeping Jensen from taking that last step.  The step that will allow him to let the world know that he and Jared are together and those who don’t like it can take a flying fuck.  The step that will add Jensen’s name to Jared’s mailbox.


Jared’s only worry is that he’s never done well with wearing people down slowly, with that whole doing away with obstacles one by one thing.  He’s more the bulldozer type.  He’s not so good with stealth, either.  He can’t keep a secret to save his life.  And, hiding what he feels for Jensen is eating a giant hole in what little patience he possesses.  He’s always told Jen that if it were up to him, he’d have them in a house with a freaking white picket fence, there for the entire world to see. 


Now, he’s got the house and the fence.  All he needs is Jensen.


Gulping down the last of his coffee, he rinses his dishes and turns Harley and Sadie out into the back yard with plenty of food and water for the day.  The air still holds a little bit of Vancouver chill, but he knows that it’ll warm up by mid-morning and he fleetingly wishes he could just be a sloth and hang out in the sunshine all day.  He knows for a fact that he and Jen can both fit in the big, soft, comfy deck chaise that had been a housewarming present from Sera.  But, he also knows there are demons to fight and a mortgage to earn, so he heads back into the house. Managing to find his other Bart Simpson sock and clothes that still fit him, he grabs his keys and heads out to pick Jensen up for work.  They’d opted out of the studio driver routine after the first season, preferring to have the drive time to themselves.


On the ride over to Jensen’s apartment, Jared thinks back to when they’d met, when Supernatural first started.  They’d hit it off right away.  Not only did they having acting as a common ground, but as soon as they’d found out they were both Texas boys,  the ice was officially broken.  Eric had thrown them together for a few days of Sam and Dean bonding, meetings, rehearsals, prep work.  Jensen was intensely serious about his career, dedicated, a perfectionist, and it showed.  Working with Jen had raised the bar for Jared as an actor and Jensen had been patient with him, coaching him, teaching him.  Even early on, Jen had seemed to be able to instinctively know when Jared would be feeling overwhelmed or unsure on set, and he was always right there.  Warm hand solid on his back.  Quiet whisper of encouragement.  “You can do this, Jay.” 


And, so Jared had done it.  Time and again, and better every day, because Jensen believed he could. 


In turn, Jared had slowly brought Jensen out of his shell.  Jen was careful, so fucking careful about everything in his life.  Naturally reserved and shy, he worried about backlash and consequences and shit like that.  Jared had chipped away at that reserve.  Had broken through his defenses, had wormed his way into his life until they’d become inseparable friends.  Which had eventually turned into friends with benefits.  Which had eventually turned into lovers in every sense of the word. 


But, only a very few of their inner circle of close friends know about that part of their lives.  Jensen still worries about what would happen to their careers, both of their careers, he’s always quick to point out, if they come out to the public.  Hell, he hasn’t even come out to his family, even though Jared has met his parents and is pretty sure they’ve never been fooled by the Playboy Bunnies and Pretty Things who turn up on Jensen’s arm at red carpet events from time to time.  Not fooled, but they apparently would rather play blind, deaf and dumb, hiding behind their straight-laced, church-oriented, picture perfect lifestyle and so maybe Jensen has a point there, but still.  Jared can’t imagine having to hide what you basically are from your own kin.  And, he hates that Jensen can’t break himself out of that.


He uses the ride time to call his mom.  She generously shares family gossip, his grandmother’s rib sauce recipe, and tips on how to turn evil washing machines into miracles of modern technology, which Jared fervently thanks her for as he pulls up in front of Jensen’s building.  Who knew there was a whole hot water/cold water, softener, sorting ritual you have to do?  No wonder he’s running out of socks and underwear.


Jen climbs into the truck, grumpy and sleepy-eyed and gorgeous, and Jared holds his coffee cup while he buckles his seatbelt, then catches him with a long, slow, morning kiss, sliding his tongue along Jensen’s, tasting toothpaste and Colombian dark.  Jen kisses him back, humming low under his breath and squeezing his Jared’s thigh.  Jared tries not to pay attention when it ends and Jensen pulls away, glancing uneasily out the truck window to make sure no one saw them.  He sighs and pulls out into the early morning traffic. 


The ride to work is as easy as always.  Jensen wakes up slowly, caffeine filtering into his system, his hand finding its way to rest on Jared’s thigh every now and then, his voice early-morning low and raspy as they go over the scenes they’ll be shooting that day.  Working out the Sam and Dean of it all, how this or that should play out.  Jared finds Jen’s favorite news show on the car radio.  Jensen shares his coffee with Jared until it’s gone.  It’s smooth and familiar and everything that makes Jared’s world right.  This is what he wants, this right here.  All day, every day, amen.


So, when they pull into the lot and Jensen moves his hand away from Jared’s leg and hugs the passenger door, he feels it.  Really feels it, and it hurts like hell.


Filming is intense, focused on action-heavy chase and fight segments.  Kim fusses a lot with every scene, going over and over the details with the stunt guys and the set people, then with Jared and Jensen, then with the set guys again.  Jared’s glad for the lack of down time, glad to be forced to concentrate on what he’s doing so closely.  He and Jensen work together easily, naturally, able to almost anticipate each other’s stops and starts.  They instinctively know just when to pull punches.  Jensen knows exactly how long Jared’s reach is when he swings and when to duck; Jared knows just how fast Jensen can spin around and come at him from the side.  They get a lot of praise from Kim and the stunt coordinators about how much they’ve evidently practiced.  Jared knows it’s more from months of mapping each others bodies with their hands and mouths countless times, from moving against each other night after night, from restless and aching and needy to languid and boneless and sated.  From wrestling matches and basketball games to marathon sex, they’ve learned every inch of each other.


They shoot for long hours before Kim finally calls for a break and Jared heads for his trailer, shedding his jacket along the way, enjoying the feeling of the summer sun on his arms.  It’s not LA or Texas hot, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the rain that they get almost daily, so he’ll gladly take it.   He’s sore from banging into breakaway furniture and knocking into walls and trying to be careful with Jensen.  Not that he should even worry about that.  Jared’s bigger and stronger, but Jen is the natural athlete of the two of them and with his speed and agility, he always comes through the physical stuff in better shape than Jared does anyway.


He’s not surprised at all when his trailer door opens a few minutes later and Jen comes in armed with two carry-out boxes from craft services, carefully locking the door behind him.  Jared’s sprawled on the couch that’s not nearly long enough for his legs and moans with delight when he smells lunch. 


“Oh, God, you brought me food.  I love you.”


Jensen and settles down beside him on the couch and hands over one of the boxes.   “Yes, I did, because I’m just that awesome.”  He leans over to kiss him, quick and easy and comfortable.  “I love you, too.  Besides, it’s an apology for kicking Sam’s ass all morning long.”


Jared protests around a mouthful of chicken.  “You wish, dude.  I owned you.  Kim only stopped cause he knew you couldn’t take much more of my ninja skills.”


Jensen grins, licking salad dressing off his fingers.  “Yes.  Sam Winchester.  Seven-foot-tall Emo Ninja Master of Doom.”


“Shut it.”  Jared elbows him in the ribs just hard enough to get a grunt and a few choice cuss words and then they concentrate on demolishing their lunches in companionable silence. 


“Don’t forget Chris is flying in tomorrow for the weekend.”  Jensen tosses his Styrofoam container on the floor beside the couch.  “That means a night out.  We’ll do steaks and beer and give him shit about his sad love for the Lakers.”


Jared nods.  “Good times.”  Chris has been a friend of Jensen’s for years and is a member of their acting crowd, even though he prefers playing his music to acting most of the time.  He and Jared get along well as long as Jared makes Jen happy, so it’s all working out. 


But, he doesn’t waste much thought on Christian Kane right now, cause Jensen sits up straight to do the stretchy thing he does that Jared loves to watch.  Turns his head until his neck cracks.  Twists at the waist, rolls his shoulders, arches his back.  And, then stretches his arms high above his head with a satisfied moan, lets his head fall back, closes his eyes. 


Jared watches as Jensen’s t-shirt rides up, exposing a pale strip of skin above his belt.  Stares at the long, smooth, expanse of his throat.  Listens to him sigh, watches his chest move as he breathes in deeply.


Jared tosses the carry-out box aside and reaches for him, laughing at Jensen’s surprised yelp when Jared wraps his arms around his waist and tugs at him, landing them both on the floor of the trailer.  Jared kisses him deep, with lots of tongue and serious intent and Jensen goes with it, moving on top of him, running his hands underneath Jared’s shirt, licking a stripe down Jared’s throat, fitting his leg between Jared’s thighs and pressing just hard enough to make a statement.


Jared sucks in a quick breath when Jensen moves lower, shoves his shirt up and kisses his belly.    “Oh, God, Jen.  Yeah.”


Jensen lifts his head, green eyes bright and teasing and so beautiful.  “Yeah?”


Jared moves his hips restlessly.  “Fuck, yeah, hurry up!”


Jensen laughs low and pops the button on Jared’s jeans.  “Or, what?  You’ll Ninja me to death?”


Jared squirms enough to help with getting his jeans down, then puts a hand on Jensen’s head, guiding him down to his cock.   “Just shut up and finish your lunch, baby.”

Part two:


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May 2009

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