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aeroport_artTitle: Cupid 97 (This ain't your Hallmark Cupid)
Characters: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/JDM, Jared/Sandy, Chris Kane, CW cast and cameos from Grey's Anatomy cast
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aeroport_art
Rating: R
Warnings: potty mouths, sarcasm, UST/schmoop, AU
Word Count: ~27,500
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made, go 'way.
Notes: Written forspn_fairytales. My challenge/inspiration was The Saucy Boy by Hans Christian Andersen. Thanks to mooyoo, insomnia_geek and gestaltrose for the betas! You guys kick butt.
Summary: Everybody's got a love/hate relationship with their jobs. But for Jensen Ackles, top Cupid in the nation, after a hit goes wrong it's just a long, downhill slide from there. Caution: an ungodly amount of swearing, sarcasm, and schmoop in which Chris Kane is an awesome best friend, Tom Welling's the vacuous son of Zeus, Rosenbaum is Rosenbaum, and Jensen has a penchant for Plans.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
The next day, Jensen’s relieved to find out that his invisibility came back overnight, so he exploits it with a vengeance. Just to make sure that it’s in working order, he shouts obscenities in the middle of Melrose Avenue, grinning stupidly when only the immortal bystanders shoot him dirty looks. Then Jensen double-checks by nudging a toddler with his foot until it falls over, and chuckles in glee when the mother yells to her husband, “I thought you said he learned to walk! You just didn’t want to carry him, I knew it.”
All in all, Jensen’s in a pretty good mood. He convinces himself that that the fiasco at the bar was a one-time thing, so when Jensen comes in to work on Monday, he’s eager to shuck the weekend’s insecurities by kicking ass and taking names.
“Morning, Venus. Whatcha got for me today?” he says, stepping right up to her desk to get the day’s assignment. “Twenty, thirty guys? I nailed it on Friday, you gotta give me that.”
Samantha laces her fingers together on her desk. “Friday was good,” she agrees as Jensen waits for the catch that’s so evident in her lingering voice, and she doesn’t disappoint. “But we have a bit of a problem with your Thursday targets. It seems a…” she pauses, opening a file to scan, “…Sandra McCoy and Jared Padalecki aren’t in love anymore.”
Jensen blinks at her, letting the information sink in before growling under his breath. It just figures that the stupid giant would come back to haunt him today, as if the last four days of panic and worry about his invisibility (his manhood, dammit) weren’t enough. Samantha continues, “Now I know you don’t normally make rookie mistakes like this, so I’m cutting you some slack. I won’t call in the Charities so long as you get this fixed. Today.”
Jensen nods tersely. The Charities are a freelance professional clean-up crew consisting of three goddesses who get called in to patch up minor mistakes for the Bureau, but they’re expensive as hell and it looks bad on a record so Jensen’s thankful for the small favor. “You got any intelligence for me?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she replies, pulling out a pen to scribble in her yellow notepad. “We know where they’ll be at 10:00 AM and at 6:30 PM, but that’s all we’ve got. Don’t miss them again.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix this,” Jensen promises as he takes the sheet and leaves the room.
Only when he’s alone in the elevator does he allow himself to wonder what the hell went wrong. He throws his memory back to last Thursday to scour for any mistakes he might’ve made, but nothing out of the ordinary comes up. Both shots had been clean, straight through the heart. Furthermore, the couple had definitely been in love for at least a little awhile—they hadn’t red-flagged the system until after the weekend had passed.
The elevator hits ground level and Jensen steps off, still deep in thought. It could’ve been unfamiliarity with the new gun, he supposes; there’s a small chance he might’ve clipped Sandy’s heart instead of piercing it. Or hey, there’s the possibility that Jared’s part-immortal, which would also explain his freaky ability to see and notice Jensen. It’s kind of a stretch though, and by the time Jensen’s reached the parking lot, he’s already talked himself out of that theory.
Oh well, life’s full of mysteries and it isn’t Jensen’s job to solve them. What is his job is making humans fall in love, so he shakes all speculation from his mind and focuses on the task at hand. At 10:00 AM, Sandy’s going to be at Leimert Park, Jared just a couple blocks over, so it’s up to Jensen to re-plant the magical bullets and get them close enough to touch.
Should’ve been easy enough to finish the job at their ten o’clock locations, but unfortunately Jensen hadn’t taken into account Sandy’s busy schedule. After he plants the first bullet (taking care to get the shot perfect) he’s dismayed to find that she won’t come easily when Jensen tries to pull her down the block to where Jared is. She weasels out of his grasp every few minutes to rush towards her Jeep, so eventually he gives up and lets her go. There’s always later that evening, when they’ll both be in West Hollywood.
Unfortunately, this means that Jensen’s got half a day to kill now. Great.
After ten (agonizingly boring) minutes of watching dogs yank their owners around in the dog park, Jensen grabs his phone from his pocket and calls up Chris.
“Dude, don’t bug me right now. I’m looking for a target, some guy named Jack Brody...” Chris says, sounding preoccupied.
“C’mon, let me tag along. I’m bored outta my skull, man,” Jensen wheedles in what he hopes is a convincing manner.
“Fine, fine,” Chris gripes, quickly rattling off his location before snapping the line closed.
Yes, Jensen cheers. His buddy’s on La Brea, so Jensen can get some shopping done while he’s waiting for 6:30 to roll around.
-----
Jared scratches his chin. It’s getting itchy. It’s been a couple days so his beard’s growing out, but when shaves too often his skin gets all irritated and red. He’ll shave later. This sucks.
“This sucks,” he grumbles out loud, running a hand over his face. It’s so stubbly and annoying.
“Have a nice day,” he hears as he pushes through the boutique door, the warm air greeting Jared like a butterfly kiss. When he’s outside he looks up and down the street, trying to decide where to go next.
Jared’s looking for something to give to Sandy for Valentine’s Day which is only a couple weeks away. Even though they just started to hang out again after being strictly friends on the set of Cry Wolf, it feels different this time around, like the air between them is charged with electricity. And if the shameless flirtation they shared at Great Lakes last week was any indication, the outlook is pretty promising—promising enough to warrant an early start on a good gift. ‘Sides, their dinner date isn’t until 6:00 PM so he’s whiling the time away by window-shopping.
Jared pulls his sunglasses on and trundles towards Starbucks, hankering for a caramel frappuccino. It’s really starting to get warm out and he’s regretting wearing long sleeves today; of course, he’s probably not as hot as that sucker sitting on the bench, decked out in a full suit and tie. Jared walks by, glancing at him skeptically—
Hey, wait. Wait a second. “Don’t I know you?” he blurts, stopping in front of the seated man who ignores him. It takes the guy awhile to notice that he’s sitting in Jared’s shadow and then he looks around bewilderedly, as if Jared wasn’t standing right there.
Oh yeah, Jared remembers this guy. “Weren’t you at Great Lakes on Saturday?” he asks, smiling broadly. The guy had been kind of weird like, sitting by himself at this huge table and acting all jittery when Jared asked to borrow a couple chairs. He was funny. Jared likes funny people. He examines him a little closer, opening his mouth to ask, “Why are you dressed like that? It’s like, 90 degrees out.”
The guy finally picks his head up, though his lashes are so long and dark that Jared can hardly see his eyes until he’s looking straight at him. Whoa, the guy’s got really bright eyes. Especially with the sun shining into them, they’re like green and hazel-ish. Cool. “Are you a bodyguard or something?” he asks, trying to break the awkward silence thing that’s going on, because stuff like that sucks.
“Um,” the guy finally manages. “You can… are you talking to me?” Then he looks off to the side, eyes convulsively traveling between Jared’s face and some airborne spot above the bench.
Jared’s smile dims a little. He likes funny guys, but he’s not so sure about possibly-crazy guys who’re also possibly on drugs.
Still, this one’s kind of interesting, and Jared’s sick of shopping anyway so he plops down on the bench next to Mr. Schizo. “Hope you don’t mind,” he says, frowning in confusion as the guy keeps his eyes trained on some invisible spot and he’s mouthing something with twitchy jerks of his hands. Jared doesn’t know whether to laugh or back away slowly. He settles for asking, “You okay there? I can leave, you know.”
Finally, the guy freezes, his eyes snapping on to Jared’s face. “Um, you caught me at a bad time. Sorry,” he says, getting up off the bench and walking backwards with his eyes trained on Jared like he thinks Jared’s a psychopath who’s going to lunge for his throat with his bare teeth any moment now.
Jared stands up as well, intrigued by the flux of expressions crossing the man’s face. “No worries, I’ll walk you to wherever you’re going. I did see you the other night though, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” the guy replies, veering towards the sidewalk as he avoids eye contact and picks up his pace like he’s trying to shake a persistent puppy. “Look, I have to—“
“So, what do you do?” Jared interrupts. What? He’s bored. “The whole suit and tie thing kinda stands out, you know.”
The guy looks like he might humor Jared for a minute, but then he suddenly stops in his tracks and turns to face him. “Seriously, I have stuff to do. Can’t you just…” He makes a wiggly motion with hand that clearly reads Disappear.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bug you or nothin’,” Jared replies tersely. He watches the guy wander into the crowd but before he can stop himself, Jared suddenly yells, “Hey, what’s your name?”
He doesn’t think he’ll really get an answer, but the guy pauses, deliberates for a bit, and then squarely meets Jared’s gaze. “It’s Jensen,” he says finally, something that’s not quite a smile playing on his lips.
Jared breaks out into a big grin, feeling inexplicably triumphant. He moves forward to introduce himself (he’s got manners, after all), glancing down for just a moment to maneuver around a woman with her baby stroller, but when he looks up again Jensen’s gone.
Jared searches for a bit, even peeking into the nearby store to see if Jensen ducked in, but the guy’s nowhere to be seen. He frowns, shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way back towards Starbucks. Despite being incredibly strange at times, Jensen was interesting. Jared wanted to find out more.
Oh well, he eventually sighs as he enters the cool, air-conditioned coffee shop and orders himself a caramel frappuccino. Once he’s fetched it from the take-out counter he heads back out to enjoy his drink on the bench.
As he’s stirring the whipped cream into slush, Jared realizes that he never did find out why Jensen was all dressed up. It’d been a pretty wicked suit, though.
-----
“Jared?” Jensen asks, cocking his head at the kid’s obvious confusion. He’d just given his name and Jared had definitely heard him, if that enormous toothy smile was anything to go by, but now he’s acting like Jensen’s vanished into thin air.
Ah, he thinks, aware that he’d just answered his own question. To Jared, he probably had vanished.
“What, so he can’t see you now?” Chris grumbles. After nearly being sat on by the mortal on the bench, he’d followed Jensen around during the entire incident.
“I guess not,” Jensen replies, stepping forward and waving his hand in front of Jared’s forlorn face. Nope, not even a blink.
“What the fuck, man? This is some wacky shit going on,” Chris says, watching Jared open a boutique door to peek in, only to step back out again. “You oughta tell the Bureau about this. You can’t work if your visibility’s on and off.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Jensen replies, imagining the crazy amount of shit he’d be in if a human reported being tracked by a fully armed Cupid who was flickering in and out of view. Yeah, that’d be bad.
He watches as Jared eventually stops looking for him and slumps away, hands deep in his pockets. Jensen kind of wishes the kid would smile instead; he wants to see that smile again… for Sandy, that is. Because when Sandy sees it, all bright and toothy and beaming down on her, she’ll fall in love properly and then Jensen can finally move on with his job.
“Oh shit,” Jensen starts, suddenly remembering what his one assignment is for the day. He reaches for his gun as he takes off in Jared’s direction, calling to his friend, “Hold on, I should shoot this guy while he’s here.”
Jensen winds up at the bench again, scanning the crowd and thankful that Jared’s so friggin’ tall—it should be a piece of cake to find the guy. Turns out he’s right behind Jensen, having just left Starbucks with a drink in hand that’s giant enough to be proportional to Jared’s ridiculous size. The kid goes on to sit on the bench, happily sucking away at the straw as Jensen backs up to find a good angle.
He raises his gun just as Jared pulls his mouth away from the straw, wet shine on translucent green plastic, and sprawls out on the bench with arms and legs languidly spread like he’s melted onto the metal bench. It presents Jensen with the perfect shot and so he lifts the gun, takes his time to aim directly at Jared’s heart, and then buries the bullet into his chest with a deafening bang.
Jared doesn’t notice anything, thank God. He only turns his head to look back at where Jensen had vanished earlier, then faces front again and drinks from his frappuccino.
Chris jogs up next to Jensen, asking, “You got him this time?”
“I think so,” he replies, lowering his firearm. “Now I just gotta wait until he meets up with the girl.”
Jensen checks his watch as he tucks his gun back into its holster. It’s only an hour or so before Jared and Sandy will meet, touch, and fall in love again. He’s made no mistakes this time, Jensen’s sure of it.
Chris shoots him a worried look. “Hey, don’t worry about your invisibility problem,” he says, misunderstanding Jensen’s deep frown. “We’ll get you checked out with the tech guys at the Bureau.”
“Yeah,” Jensen replies, thankful for Chris’ concern, misplaced as it is—what Jensen actually wants is for this colossal fuck-up to be fixed and done with. Though if he’s willing to be truthful to himself, the idea of Jared and Sandy falling in love and getting their Happily Ever After doesn’t really sit right with him either.
Nevertheless, Jensen’s too tired to psychoanalyze anything right now, much less his own jumbled thoughts, so he just claps Chris on the shoulder and steers his friend into one of the clothing shops lining the street.
“C’mon man,” Jensen says. “The award ceremony’s up in a few weeks. Help me pick out an outfit for when I’m on stage again.”
“You’re an arrogant sonuvabitch, you know that?” Chris replies as he lets himself be dragged into one of the nicest boutiques on the strip. Jensen just beams back, shoving the day’s worries behind a cocky grin, determined not to get bogged down by the strange discontent that’s been climbing into him ever since he crashed into Jared Tristan Padalecki just last Thursday.
Jared Padalecki, and those twinkling eyes and huge hands that look like they could cradle Jensen’s head in one palm; Jared who smiles like a child and smells like earth and spice, and now Jensen’s wondering, how does he even know what Jared smells like?
A job’s a job and everybody always says, “don’t get too close.” Jensen wonders if he’s getting too close. Decides that he’s not, that “tangled” would be a better word for this situation, and that it’ll all be moot anyway since Jensen’s a professional and after 6:30 sharp, a touch and some magic, he won’t ever see Jared again anyway.
You’re a Cupid. Act like one, he tells himself.
-----
The next morning—
“They’re still not in love, C-97.”
“Mother fucker—“
“Hey, watch your mouth in here.”
“I did everything right, you know me, Ferris.”
A pause. “I do know you, Jensen. Now, I’m willing to give you the week to patch this up the old-fashioned way, but you’re not getting any more days off, either.”
“Sounds fair to me.”
“Alright, then. Your assignments for the day,” Samantha says, sliding a list of names across the wooden table. “Good luck, Cupid.”
-----
Jared pulls down the brim of his baseball cap, low over his eyes, and nurses his pint as he checks his watch again for the fortieth time, steadfastly reminding himself that he’s waiting for Sandy, he’s staring at the front door for Sandy. Sandy, Sandy, Sandy, he repeats in his head.
It isn’t like Jared’s staking out Great Lakes on the off-chance that Jensen might show up here again, because that’d be creepy. And Jared’s not creepy. Just… a little maybeintrigued, but what of it? Who wouldn’t be interested by a possible schizophrenic who wears really expensive suits to outdoor strip malls? Besides, Jared’s always been drawn to fix-it cases, like his adopted pets Sadie and Harley. That worked out awesome, so who knows, maybe Jensen’s his next adopted puppy. Only this one’s got big, sparkling green eyes instead of the droopy brown ones he’s used to, and Jensen probably won’t whine for extra doggie biscuits (not that that’s entirely out the question; Jared’s tried the things, and they’re not all that awful, honestly).
Anyway, there’s no need to follow that train of thought because really, Jared’s just here to meet Sandy for a drink and if he’s chosen to come to this bar for any particular reason, it’s just ‘cause he likes it here. They’ve got New Castle on tap, and that’s a good enough reason alone.
“Hey, you,” Sandy’s voice floats in and Jared looks up to face dark brown eyes and a bright, lipstick-red smile. “You been waiting long?” she asks, gesturing at his nearly empty pint as she sets down her purse and takes a seat.
“Nah, not that long,” Jared replies. He leans in to greet her with a hug and a peck on the cheek, then pulls back and overtly sweeps his gaze up and down her body, grinning lewdly as she giggles and pushes at Jared’s shoulder. It’s no farce though; Sandy looks adorable with her long dark hair swept up in a casual ponytail and her outfit just low-cut and clingy enough to be sexy, but respectable. She quickly flags down a waitress and orders a Guinness for herself—“And get the foam right!” she calls—as Jared swells with pride.
See? Jared’s crazy about her. Not crazy like muttering to himself and looking at invisible things Crazy, or even wearing a dark jacket and tie out in the hot sun in the middle of a work day Crazy, just… yeah.
Sandy, he reminds himself.
Her Guinness arrives and the two of them quickly fall into easy, enjoyable conversation. Nonetheless, engaging as her company is, Jared just can’t seem to keep his eyes from wandering. Throughout the night he constantly catches himself searching the crowd or watching the front door even as he’s fully listening to her; has to check himself when he’s staring elsewhere for too long because seriously, what the hell? Sandy’s here, she’s funny and smart and a fucking hottie and there’s absolutely no reason for Jared to be watching the door. Get a grip, he tells himself, refocusing for the umpteenth time to give Sandy his undivided attention.
“—and so I’ve forwarded my demo reel, but I’m kind of iffy about the director anyway and…Jared?” Sandy bites her lip, turning around to see what it is that her date’s been looking at all night long.
“Sorry, go on,” he encourages, eyes snapping down to meet hers but c’mon, she isn’t stupid.
“Look, you’ve been distracted all evening—“ she shakes her head when Jared opens his mouth— “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just make it an early night.”
Feeling distinctly like a horrible, horrible person, Jared sits back in his chair, defeated. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I’m just…”
“No worries,” Sandy reassures. She leans forward conspiratorially and says, “Just know that I’ll be expecting flowers and chocolates from you next time, Mister.”
God, she’s so freakishly adorable, and Jared tells her so and presses a loud kiss on her forehead. He tosses some cash onto the table for the drinks, then grabs her hand and leads her out of the bar.
Outside, the air’s still warm. It never gets too cold in Southern California, even during the winter. Jared walks Sandy to her car, opens the door for her and waits patiently as she throws her jacket in the backseat. She’s arranging her skirt, glancing up at Jared with huge, hopeful eyes so he leans down, one hand on the car door and the other reaching up to cup her face. Her eyes flutter down, Jared leans in—
In the corner of his eye, he sees some movement in the side mirror of the car. He can’t help but flicker his gaze to it, even though he’s so close to Sandy that he can feel her warm breath over his lips.
He wants to look. It’s just human nature, right? He wants to turn around and see who’s behind them. Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable kissing around others, maybe he doesn’t want any trouble from some drunkard stumbling out of the bar. Maybe it has nothing to do with the one thing that’s been dominating his mind all night (all day, all week)…no. No, it doesn’t have anything to do with that, with him, so Jared ducks down and presses his mouth against Sandy’s.
Her lips are sticky with gloss. She tastes like peaches. It’s good, it’s real good, but for some inexplicable reason he’d expected them fuller, to have more give; expected her lips to be soft and smooth but dry, and firm.
-----
“So do you want to fuck her or not?”
“Oh my God, what gives? ” Tom covers his face with his hands, as if that’ll keep Jensen and his lack of propriety at bay. Ha ha, nice try, kiddo.
“I’m serious here! She’s hot and single. You’re hot and single,” Jensen reasons. It makes perfect sense.
“Hey you hear that?” Mike shoulders his way between the two of them. “Jenny thinks you’re hot. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something,” he snickers, slinging his arms around them as Tom blushes a deep shade of what the other immortals have affectionately dubbed the “Tommy Glow”.
It’s nighttime in downtown LA and the three immortals are sitting at their favorite bar, sharing a quick evening drink. Jensen’s feeling good and loose, encouraging the alcohol to flow through his system and work out the tension that’s crept up over the past week or so. So okay, it’s possible he may’ve overdone it a tiny bit for a weekday but hey, it’s been stressful lately. Really, incredibly stressful, no thanks to that lumbering oaf of a mortal who’d somehow managed to slip through the system over and over again. Jared is single-handedly destroying Jensen’s career, with the added bonus of doing it right before the V-Day reviews.
Yeah, let’s not think about that, Jensen thinks. He shrugs out from underneath Rosenbaum’s arm and swivels around on the bar stool, nearly slipping off before scootching back, then fixes Tom with a pointed look. “I’m completely serious Tom,” he says, as the other two exchange amused looks. Hey, hey, he’s not that drunk. Ignoring their deprecating smiles, Jensen continues, “You like her, don’t you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Kristin likes you. ”
“It… it’s not like that,” Tom says, clearly unhappy as he looks over to Mike for help, but he’s tuned them out in favor of idly watching the TV mounted in the corner. So Tom takes matters into his own hands, coughing loudly and saying, “So, uh, you ever get your invisibility checked out?”
Oh, Jensen wants to steamroll over that sad attempt at changing the subject. He really does, but one look at Tom’s pleading blue eyes and it’s enough to send a little guilt over in Jensen’s direction. He sighs and casts Tom a pitying look. “Yeah, I had the guys over in IT look it over but they said there’s nothing wrong with it. Hey,” Jensen snaps his fingers, remembering. “Maybe you’ll know the answer to this. Is there any chance the guy who keeps seeing me could be part-immortal? Because it’s always the same guy wrecking my cloak, so I thought maybe it’s just him.”
Tom mulls this over for a bit but Mike’s the one to answer, “Nah, that’s not it. If somebody’s got even a drop of immortal blood, he should be able to see you just fine without messing with your cloak. Has to do with the ions in our blood and how they interact with the electromagnetic field around the cloak.” Making sure that Jensen and Tom look duly impressed, Mike buffs his nails on his shirt. “Fucked a girl in IT, once.”
“Ah,” they reply.
“Damn it though, puts me back to square one,” Jensen sighs.
“Better figure it out soon, though Jenny,” Mike says, leaning in. “Now you didn’t hear it from me, but grapevine among the higher execs says you’ve got some competition for top Cupid this year.”
“What?” Oh, hell no. That award’s been his for the last three years and Jensen is not about to give up special treatment (his Casual Fridays!) and a hefty bonus just because one overgrown kid couldn’t be bothered to fall in love like a normal human being.
“Really? Jensen’s got competition?” Tom asks incredulously. No way. Tom had secretly hero-worshiped the Bureau’s most (in)famous Cupid since the early days; he’d gone through college on a diet of near legends like how Jensen had shot thirty couples in the span of one football game, or how he’d paired up an entire sorority house, much to the delight of every male Cupid who’d dropped by to witness the aftermath. No freaking way could somebody outdo Cupid 97.
“Who is it?” Jensen demands.
“I can’t say who,” Mike says, but then shrugs immediately after. “Some sleeper hit from New York. Cupid 23.”
“23…” Jensen’s eyes widen. “Hey, you talking about Jeff Morgan?”
“Yeah, that’s his name,” Mike replies. “Why, you know the guy?”
Does he know the guy? Christ, Jeff’s the one who’d recruited him six years ago, when Jensen had just graduated college without a clue as to what he should do with the rest of his life. And after that… he’d known Jeff a couple years more, under his mentorship in the training program. Known the solid weight of muscle against his own, the sexy scrape of stubble across his face. The feel of Jeff’s smile blanketing him, slow, God, like the Texas sun. Known all these things and more.
When he notices his friends staring at him, Jensen clears his throat and says, “Yeah. I worked with him back in Dallas for awhile.”
Nodding, Tom says, “I’ve heard of him. He was supposed to be really good, but then he quit the Bureau out of the blue a few years ago. I wonder why he came back?”
“Well, either way, he’s climbing the ranks like crazy so you better be in top form,” Mike says, nudging Jensen with his shoulder. Jensen just grips his pint with both hands, staring down the dark liquid like it’ll speak to him if he waits long enough. Damn it, maybe this wasn’t the night for drinking—old, familiar anger and insecurity rises up in him and Jensen doesn’t even have his sobriety to stamp the feelings down with.
He decisively picks up his beer, downs the last half of it, then wipes the foam off his mouth as he slides off the stool. “Well, guys,” he says. “It’s a work day tomorrow. I’m going home.”
Mike’s back to watching the game on TV, so he waves Jensen off with one hand. “You go ahead, I’m just gonna finish this up.”
Tom glances back and forth between the two of them, then says, “I’m gonna stick around too. See you tomorrow, Jensen.”
“Later,” he says, clapping them on the backs before making his way out of the bar.
Once he’s pushed through into the warm night air, Jensen walks towards his car with the full intention of driving straight home, but when he trips over the curb he realizes he should probably sober up a bit before hitting the streets. In the glove compartment of his car is a pack of smokes so he reaches in, finagles out a cigarette, then lights it with the car’s push-in lighter.
The first deep inhale hits him low and easy. Jensen slams the door shut, turns around and leans against his car as he observes the half-empty parking lot, his gaze lidded and sleepy, filtering in the wan pools of light that glow from tall fluorescent lamps.
So, Jeff’s up for the number one spot, huh? Not that he’s surprised by it. No, Jensen knows that his former teacher deserves that recognition more than anyone. It’s past due, in fact. Still doesn’t stop Jensen from wanting to come out on top though, wanting to steal the award out from under Jeff’s nose so he realizes that hey, maybe he’d made a mistake all those years ago. Maybe he shouldn’t have dumped Jensen’s ass in Texas, only to disappear off the radar for the next three years. Not a word, damn it; he hadn’t even said a word to Jensen.
Shit, the drinking was definitely a bad idea tonight. Can’t get away from his own moods when he’s like this.
Jensen takes another slow drag off his cigarette, listening to the sizzle of tobacco and oxygen before he exhales and watches the smoke dissipate in front of him. Beyond the haze, a couple rows over, there’s a Jeep with two bodies on the other side. He can’t make out the color of the car—in this lighting, everything’s washed in murky oranges—but the car looks familiar. Curious, Jensen pads over with a vague sense of foreboding at the pit of his stomach. When he stops before the two mortals, he shouldn’t be surprised.
He shouldn’t be, and he isn’t. Somehow he’d just known he would run into him again.
It’s Jared. And Sandy, too; only the two most troublesome targets Jensen’s ever had the displeasure of being assigned to during his entire career as Cupid. They’re standing there, Jared crowding the girl against the open door of her car and bending down to kiss her, her feet on tiptoe to reach him.
He’s kissing her, and Jensen’s suddenly pissed because what the fuck, what is the problem? If these two kids aren’t in love—Jared’s hand dwarfs her face, his thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek—if this isn’t two mortals living out their god-ordained love, then Jensen’s a soft cuddly kitty. Or a cat with claws and pissed, more like, because he’s about to be pushed to second place in the rankings, pushed beneath Jeff and thus confirming the fact that Jensen wasn’t good enough, wasn’t ever good enough to be on top of Jeff, on top of him hard, aching, wanting.
“Shit,” he curses, grimacing at the realization that he’s circled back to fucking Jeffrey Dean Morgan.
Jensen pinches the cigarette between his finger and thumb, pulling it to his lips for one last drag when in front of him, Jared turns around and inhales sharply, loud enough for them all to hear.
Ah, fuck. Not again.
“Jensen,” Jared breathes, disbelief coloring his words. “I didn’t—what are you doing here?” Behind Jared’s huge frame, Sandy peeks out, watching Jensen with interest.
“Was here for a few drinks. Heading home now, though,” he says, sucking hard at the butt of his cigarette as if that last bit of nicotine will get him out of this one. Jared watches him unblinkingly, his eyes tracing the hollow of Jensen’s cheeks, the shape of Jensen’s lips around the filter.
“Sorry,” Jared says, shaking his head a little bit. “This is my friend Sandy. Sandy, Jensen.”
She winds around Jared’s body and steps forward, shaking Jensen’s proffered hand as he flicks the used butt away. “Nice to meet you,” she smiles, her teeth white and straight against red, red lips.
Now, Jensen thinks to himself as he grips her small hand in his own, he has two choices. He can either get the fuck out of there, pretend like his invisibility doesn’t get flattened by Jared’s presence alone…or, he could play along. Accept the fact that there’s something off about this whole job, but that he needs to get it done nonetheless. Even if it means doing it (ugh) the old-fashioned way.
Jeff’s face briefly flickers through his mind and Jensen finds that there are no options here, not really. He isn’t, he won’t give up so easily.
Jensen leans in, pulling on their joined hands so that Sandy stutters in closer. If he’s going to have to do this the hard way, it means he’s got to get creative. He’s got to get Jared and Sandy to fall in love without magic.
“Nice to meet you too,” he says, pitching his voice low. He licks his bottom lip, letting his tongue linger there because he remembers it used to drive Jeff crazy and he’s thinking it just might work on the pretty lady too. Sandy’s eyes flick down to his mouth and Jensen thinks, Still got it.
Good. If Jensen’s going to do this, actually throw himself into playing matchmaker between Jared and Sandy, he’s going to have to dust off all his old tricks because he’s formulating a plan. In the time between his last puff and the meeting of Sandy’s palm against his, Jensen’s figured out how this is going to work.
It’s basic, really. Any Cupid worth his salt knows a few back-up procedures to follow when the arms and arsenal fall through. And this plan’s the simplest of the bunch: play the girl, get some jealousy flowing, and pray the ensuing attraction between the couple grows into love. And while the cons aren’t great, since the targets will often fall out of love soon after, it doesn’t really matter in this case because Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and along with it, the Bureau’s annual award ceremony. Right around the corner so Jensen can sweep this nightmare of a job under the rug just long enough to get up on stage and dazzle the crowd (which will include a regretful, pining Jeff, of course) with his fourth consecutive year as top Cupid. Yup, sounds like a plan.
“So,” Jensen says, still clasping Sandy’s hand. “Whatcha kids up to for the night?”
Sandy self-consciously reclaims her hand and tucks her hair behind an ear. “Well, it’s a weeknight—“
“We were, uh…” Jared cuts in, eyes darting over to Sandy. “We were just heading over to Toi for some grub.” He sends her a pleading look whose meaning is way beyond Jensen, but she catches on quickly and follows up with a murmur of agreement. “I’m freakin’ starving. You too, right?” Jared asks Sandy, his words sounding like an Is this okay? Jensen flits his gaze between the two, trying to work out their mental conversation but before he can tap into it, the awkwardness breaks.
Sandy rolls her eyes a little and nudges Jared as she confirms, “Yeah. Starving. ”
“Mm, sounds goods,” Jensen agrees casually.
“So what’re you up to?” Jared asks a little too quickly. Noticing Jensen’s assessing gaze, he follows it up with a lame cough.
Jensen’s a merciful man, however. “Just dicking around until I’m sober enough to drive,” he answers with the jerk of a thumb towards his car.
“Oh yeah? Well there’s room in my car, you wanna come with?” Jared glances at Sandy again, praying that he’s not pushing his luck.
He needn’t have worried; Sandy’s eyes light up and she nods encouragingly. “Yeah, come with us. It’ll be fun.”
In the bag, Jensen smirks inwardly, even as he puts on airs, hemming and hawing just for show; does it just to make her want it that much more, hoping her enthusiasm will point Jared down the path to some good old-fashioned jealousy.
“You know you want some pad thai,” Sandy wheedles, rocking forward and butting against Jensen with her shoulder. Her eyes look impossibly large as they blink up at him.
Jared frowns.
Jensen smiles. “Alright,” he says eventually.
Oh, this is going to be easy.
Back | Next
Characters: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/JDM, Jared/Sandy, Chris Kane, CW cast and cameos from Grey's Anatomy cast
Author:
aeroport_artRating: R
Warnings: potty mouths, sarcasm, UST/schmoop, AU
Word Count: ~27,500
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made, go 'way.
Notes: Written for
spn_fairytales. My challenge/inspiration was The Saucy Boy by Hans Christian Andersen. Thanks to mooyoo, insomnia_geek and gestaltrose for the betas! You guys kick butt.Summary: Everybody's got a love/hate relationship with their jobs. But for Jensen Ackles, top Cupid in the nation, after a hit goes wrong it's just a long, downhill slide from there. Caution: an ungodly amount of swearing, sarcasm, and schmoop in which Chris Kane is an awesome best friend, Tom Welling's the vacuous son of Zeus, Rosenbaum is Rosenbaum, and Jensen has a penchant for Plans.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
The next day, Jensen’s relieved to find out that his invisibility came back overnight, so he exploits it with a vengeance. Just to make sure that it’s in working order, he shouts obscenities in the middle of Melrose Avenue, grinning stupidly when only the immortal bystanders shoot him dirty looks. Then Jensen double-checks by nudging a toddler with his foot until it falls over, and chuckles in glee when the mother yells to her husband, “I thought you said he learned to walk! You just didn’t want to carry him, I knew it.”
All in all, Jensen’s in a pretty good mood. He convinces himself that that the fiasco at the bar was a one-time thing, so when Jensen comes in to work on Monday, he’s eager to shuck the weekend’s insecurities by kicking ass and taking names.
“Morning, Venus. Whatcha got for me today?” he says, stepping right up to her desk to get the day’s assignment. “Twenty, thirty guys? I nailed it on Friday, you gotta give me that.”
Samantha laces her fingers together on her desk. “Friday was good,” she agrees as Jensen waits for the catch that’s so evident in her lingering voice, and she doesn’t disappoint. “But we have a bit of a problem with your Thursday targets. It seems a…” she pauses, opening a file to scan, “…Sandra McCoy and Jared Padalecki aren’t in love anymore.”
Jensen blinks at her, letting the information sink in before growling under his breath. It just figures that the stupid giant would come back to haunt him today, as if the last four days of panic and worry about his invisibility (his manhood, dammit) weren’t enough. Samantha continues, “Now I know you don’t normally make rookie mistakes like this, so I’m cutting you some slack. I won’t call in the Charities so long as you get this fixed. Today.”
Jensen nods tersely. The Charities are a freelance professional clean-up crew consisting of three goddesses who get called in to patch up minor mistakes for the Bureau, but they’re expensive as hell and it looks bad on a record so Jensen’s thankful for the small favor. “You got any intelligence for me?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she replies, pulling out a pen to scribble in her yellow notepad. “We know where they’ll be at 10:00 AM and at 6:30 PM, but that’s all we’ve got. Don’t miss them again.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix this,” Jensen promises as he takes the sheet and leaves the room.
Only when he’s alone in the elevator does he allow himself to wonder what the hell went wrong. He throws his memory back to last Thursday to scour for any mistakes he might’ve made, but nothing out of the ordinary comes up. Both shots had been clean, straight through the heart. Furthermore, the couple had definitely been in love for at least a little awhile—they hadn’t red-flagged the system until after the weekend had passed.
The elevator hits ground level and Jensen steps off, still deep in thought. It could’ve been unfamiliarity with the new gun, he supposes; there’s a small chance he might’ve clipped Sandy’s heart instead of piercing it. Or hey, there’s the possibility that Jared’s part-immortal, which would also explain his freaky ability to see and notice Jensen. It’s kind of a stretch though, and by the time Jensen’s reached the parking lot, he’s already talked himself out of that theory.
Oh well, life’s full of mysteries and it isn’t Jensen’s job to solve them. What is his job is making humans fall in love, so he shakes all speculation from his mind and focuses on the task at hand. At 10:00 AM, Sandy’s going to be at Leimert Park, Jared just a couple blocks over, so it’s up to Jensen to re-plant the magical bullets and get them close enough to touch.
Should’ve been easy enough to finish the job at their ten o’clock locations, but unfortunately Jensen hadn’t taken into account Sandy’s busy schedule. After he plants the first bullet (taking care to get the shot perfect) he’s dismayed to find that she won’t come easily when Jensen tries to pull her down the block to where Jared is. She weasels out of his grasp every few minutes to rush towards her Jeep, so eventually he gives up and lets her go. There’s always later that evening, when they’ll both be in West Hollywood.
Unfortunately, this means that Jensen’s got half a day to kill now. Great.
After ten (agonizingly boring) minutes of watching dogs yank their owners around in the dog park, Jensen grabs his phone from his pocket and calls up Chris.
“Dude, don’t bug me right now. I’m looking for a target, some guy named Jack Brody...” Chris says, sounding preoccupied.
“C’mon, let me tag along. I’m bored outta my skull, man,” Jensen wheedles in what he hopes is a convincing manner.
“Fine, fine,” Chris gripes, quickly rattling off his location before snapping the line closed.
Yes, Jensen cheers. His buddy’s on La Brea, so Jensen can get some shopping done while he’s waiting for 6:30 to roll around.
-----
Jared scratches his chin. It’s getting itchy. It’s been a couple days so his beard’s growing out, but when shaves too often his skin gets all irritated and red. He’ll shave later. This sucks.
“This sucks,” he grumbles out loud, running a hand over his face. It’s so stubbly and annoying.
“Have a nice day,” he hears as he pushes through the boutique door, the warm air greeting Jared like a butterfly kiss. When he’s outside he looks up and down the street, trying to decide where to go next.
Jared’s looking for something to give to Sandy for Valentine’s Day which is only a couple weeks away. Even though they just started to hang out again after being strictly friends on the set of Cry Wolf, it feels different this time around, like the air between them is charged with electricity. And if the shameless flirtation they shared at Great Lakes last week was any indication, the outlook is pretty promising—promising enough to warrant an early start on a good gift. ‘Sides, their dinner date isn’t until 6:00 PM so he’s whiling the time away by window-shopping.
Jared pulls his sunglasses on and trundles towards Starbucks, hankering for a caramel frappuccino. It’s really starting to get warm out and he’s regretting wearing long sleeves today; of course, he’s probably not as hot as that sucker sitting on the bench, decked out in a full suit and tie. Jared walks by, glancing at him skeptically—
Hey, wait. Wait a second. “Don’t I know you?” he blurts, stopping in front of the seated man who ignores him. It takes the guy awhile to notice that he’s sitting in Jared’s shadow and then he looks around bewilderedly, as if Jared wasn’t standing right there.
Oh yeah, Jared remembers this guy. “Weren’t you at Great Lakes on Saturday?” he asks, smiling broadly. The guy had been kind of weird like, sitting by himself at this huge table and acting all jittery when Jared asked to borrow a couple chairs. He was funny. Jared likes funny people. He examines him a little closer, opening his mouth to ask, “Why are you dressed like that? It’s like, 90 degrees out.”
The guy finally picks his head up, though his lashes are so long and dark that Jared can hardly see his eyes until he’s looking straight at him. Whoa, the guy’s got really bright eyes. Especially with the sun shining into them, they’re like green and hazel-ish. Cool. “Are you a bodyguard or something?” he asks, trying to break the awkward silence thing that’s going on, because stuff like that sucks.
“Um,” the guy finally manages. “You can… are you talking to me?” Then he looks off to the side, eyes convulsively traveling between Jared’s face and some airborne spot above the bench.
Jared’s smile dims a little. He likes funny guys, but he’s not so sure about possibly-crazy guys who’re also possibly on drugs.
Still, this one’s kind of interesting, and Jared’s sick of shopping anyway so he plops down on the bench next to Mr. Schizo. “Hope you don’t mind,” he says, frowning in confusion as the guy keeps his eyes trained on some invisible spot and he’s mouthing something with twitchy jerks of his hands. Jared doesn’t know whether to laugh or back away slowly. He settles for asking, “You okay there? I can leave, you know.”
Finally, the guy freezes, his eyes snapping on to Jared’s face. “Um, you caught me at a bad time. Sorry,” he says, getting up off the bench and walking backwards with his eyes trained on Jared like he thinks Jared’s a psychopath who’s going to lunge for his throat with his bare teeth any moment now.
Jared stands up as well, intrigued by the flux of expressions crossing the man’s face. “No worries, I’ll walk you to wherever you’re going. I did see you the other night though, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” the guy replies, veering towards the sidewalk as he avoids eye contact and picks up his pace like he’s trying to shake a persistent puppy. “Look, I have to—“
“So, what do you do?” Jared interrupts. What? He’s bored. “The whole suit and tie thing kinda stands out, you know.”
The guy looks like he might humor Jared for a minute, but then he suddenly stops in his tracks and turns to face him. “Seriously, I have stuff to do. Can’t you just…” He makes a wiggly motion with hand that clearly reads Disappear.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bug you or nothin’,” Jared replies tersely. He watches the guy wander into the crowd but before he can stop himself, Jared suddenly yells, “Hey, what’s your name?”
He doesn’t think he’ll really get an answer, but the guy pauses, deliberates for a bit, and then squarely meets Jared’s gaze. “It’s Jensen,” he says finally, something that’s not quite a smile playing on his lips.
Jared breaks out into a big grin, feeling inexplicably triumphant. He moves forward to introduce himself (he’s got manners, after all), glancing down for just a moment to maneuver around a woman with her baby stroller, but when he looks up again Jensen’s gone.
Jared searches for a bit, even peeking into the nearby store to see if Jensen ducked in, but the guy’s nowhere to be seen. He frowns, shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way back towards Starbucks. Despite being incredibly strange at times, Jensen was interesting. Jared wanted to find out more.
Oh well, he eventually sighs as he enters the cool, air-conditioned coffee shop and orders himself a caramel frappuccino. Once he’s fetched it from the take-out counter he heads back out to enjoy his drink on the bench.
As he’s stirring the whipped cream into slush, Jared realizes that he never did find out why Jensen was all dressed up. It’d been a pretty wicked suit, though.
-----
“Jared?” Jensen asks, cocking his head at the kid’s obvious confusion. He’d just given his name and Jared had definitely heard him, if that enormous toothy smile was anything to go by, but now he’s acting like Jensen’s vanished into thin air.
Ah, he thinks, aware that he’d just answered his own question. To Jared, he probably had vanished.
“What, so he can’t see you now?” Chris grumbles. After nearly being sat on by the mortal on the bench, he’d followed Jensen around during the entire incident.
“I guess not,” Jensen replies, stepping forward and waving his hand in front of Jared’s forlorn face. Nope, not even a blink.
“What the fuck, man? This is some wacky shit going on,” Chris says, watching Jared open a boutique door to peek in, only to step back out again. “You oughta tell the Bureau about this. You can’t work if your visibility’s on and off.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Jensen replies, imagining the crazy amount of shit he’d be in if a human reported being tracked by a fully armed Cupid who was flickering in and out of view. Yeah, that’d be bad.
He watches as Jared eventually stops looking for him and slumps away, hands deep in his pockets. Jensen kind of wishes the kid would smile instead; he wants to see that smile again… for Sandy, that is. Because when Sandy sees it, all bright and toothy and beaming down on her, she’ll fall in love properly and then Jensen can finally move on with his job.
“Oh shit,” Jensen starts, suddenly remembering what his one assignment is for the day. He reaches for his gun as he takes off in Jared’s direction, calling to his friend, “Hold on, I should shoot this guy while he’s here.”
Jensen winds up at the bench again, scanning the crowd and thankful that Jared’s so friggin’ tall—it should be a piece of cake to find the guy. Turns out he’s right behind Jensen, having just left Starbucks with a drink in hand that’s giant enough to be proportional to Jared’s ridiculous size. The kid goes on to sit on the bench, happily sucking away at the straw as Jensen backs up to find a good angle.
He raises his gun just as Jared pulls his mouth away from the straw, wet shine on translucent green plastic, and sprawls out on the bench with arms and legs languidly spread like he’s melted onto the metal bench. It presents Jensen with the perfect shot and so he lifts the gun, takes his time to aim directly at Jared’s heart, and then buries the bullet into his chest with a deafening bang.
Jared doesn’t notice anything, thank God. He only turns his head to look back at where Jensen had vanished earlier, then faces front again and drinks from his frappuccino.
Chris jogs up next to Jensen, asking, “You got him this time?”
“I think so,” he replies, lowering his firearm. “Now I just gotta wait until he meets up with the girl.”
Jensen checks his watch as he tucks his gun back into its holster. It’s only an hour or so before Jared and Sandy will meet, touch, and fall in love again. He’s made no mistakes this time, Jensen’s sure of it.
Chris shoots him a worried look. “Hey, don’t worry about your invisibility problem,” he says, misunderstanding Jensen’s deep frown. “We’ll get you checked out with the tech guys at the Bureau.”
“Yeah,” Jensen replies, thankful for Chris’ concern, misplaced as it is—what Jensen actually wants is for this colossal fuck-up to be fixed and done with. Though if he’s willing to be truthful to himself, the idea of Jared and Sandy falling in love and getting their Happily Ever After doesn’t really sit right with him either.
Nevertheless, Jensen’s too tired to psychoanalyze anything right now, much less his own jumbled thoughts, so he just claps Chris on the shoulder and steers his friend into one of the clothing shops lining the street.
“C’mon man,” Jensen says. “The award ceremony’s up in a few weeks. Help me pick out an outfit for when I’m on stage again.”
“You’re an arrogant sonuvabitch, you know that?” Chris replies as he lets himself be dragged into one of the nicest boutiques on the strip. Jensen just beams back, shoving the day’s worries behind a cocky grin, determined not to get bogged down by the strange discontent that’s been climbing into him ever since he crashed into Jared Tristan Padalecki just last Thursday.
Jared Padalecki, and those twinkling eyes and huge hands that look like they could cradle Jensen’s head in one palm; Jared who smiles like a child and smells like earth and spice, and now Jensen’s wondering, how does he even know what Jared smells like?
A job’s a job and everybody always says, “don’t get too close.” Jensen wonders if he’s getting too close. Decides that he’s not, that “tangled” would be a better word for this situation, and that it’ll all be moot anyway since Jensen’s a professional and after 6:30 sharp, a touch and some magic, he won’t ever see Jared again anyway.
You’re a Cupid. Act like one, he tells himself.
-----
The next morning—
“They’re still not in love, C-97.”
“Mother fucker—“
“Hey, watch your mouth in here.”
“I did everything right, you know me, Ferris.”
A pause. “I do know you, Jensen. Now, I’m willing to give you the week to patch this up the old-fashioned way, but you’re not getting any more days off, either.”
“Sounds fair to me.”
“Alright, then. Your assignments for the day,” Samantha says, sliding a list of names across the wooden table. “Good luck, Cupid.”
-----
Jared pulls down the brim of his baseball cap, low over his eyes, and nurses his pint as he checks his watch again for the fortieth time, steadfastly reminding himself that he’s waiting for Sandy, he’s staring at the front door for Sandy. Sandy, Sandy, Sandy, he repeats in his head.
It isn’t like Jared’s staking out Great Lakes on the off-chance that Jensen might show up here again, because that’d be creepy. And Jared’s not creepy. Just… a little maybeintrigued, but what of it? Who wouldn’t be interested by a possible schizophrenic who wears really expensive suits to outdoor strip malls? Besides, Jared’s always been drawn to fix-it cases, like his adopted pets Sadie and Harley. That worked out awesome, so who knows, maybe Jensen’s his next adopted puppy. Only this one’s got big, sparkling green eyes instead of the droopy brown ones he’s used to, and Jensen probably won’t whine for extra doggie biscuits (not that that’s entirely out the question; Jared’s tried the things, and they’re not all that awful, honestly).
Anyway, there’s no need to follow that train of thought because really, Jared’s just here to meet Sandy for a drink and if he’s chosen to come to this bar for any particular reason, it’s just ‘cause he likes it here. They’ve got New Castle on tap, and that’s a good enough reason alone.
“Hey, you,” Sandy’s voice floats in and Jared looks up to face dark brown eyes and a bright, lipstick-red smile. “You been waiting long?” she asks, gesturing at his nearly empty pint as she sets down her purse and takes a seat.
“Nah, not that long,” Jared replies. He leans in to greet her with a hug and a peck on the cheek, then pulls back and overtly sweeps his gaze up and down her body, grinning lewdly as she giggles and pushes at Jared’s shoulder. It’s no farce though; Sandy looks adorable with her long dark hair swept up in a casual ponytail and her outfit just low-cut and clingy enough to be sexy, but respectable. She quickly flags down a waitress and orders a Guinness for herself—“And get the foam right!” she calls—as Jared swells with pride.
See? Jared’s crazy about her. Not crazy like muttering to himself and looking at invisible things Crazy, or even wearing a dark jacket and tie out in the hot sun in the middle of a work day Crazy, just… yeah.
Sandy, he reminds himself.
Her Guinness arrives and the two of them quickly fall into easy, enjoyable conversation. Nonetheless, engaging as her company is, Jared just can’t seem to keep his eyes from wandering. Throughout the night he constantly catches himself searching the crowd or watching the front door even as he’s fully listening to her; has to check himself when he’s staring elsewhere for too long because seriously, what the hell? Sandy’s here, she’s funny and smart and a fucking hottie and there’s absolutely no reason for Jared to be watching the door. Get a grip, he tells himself, refocusing for the umpteenth time to give Sandy his undivided attention.
“—and so I’ve forwarded my demo reel, but I’m kind of iffy about the director anyway and…Jared?” Sandy bites her lip, turning around to see what it is that her date’s been looking at all night long.
“Sorry, go on,” he encourages, eyes snapping down to meet hers but c’mon, she isn’t stupid.
“Look, you’ve been distracted all evening—“ she shakes her head when Jared opens his mouth— “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just make it an early night.”
Feeling distinctly like a horrible, horrible person, Jared sits back in his chair, defeated. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I’m just…”
“No worries,” Sandy reassures. She leans forward conspiratorially and says, “Just know that I’ll be expecting flowers and chocolates from you next time, Mister.”
God, she’s so freakishly adorable, and Jared tells her so and presses a loud kiss on her forehead. He tosses some cash onto the table for the drinks, then grabs her hand and leads her out of the bar.
Outside, the air’s still warm. It never gets too cold in Southern California, even during the winter. Jared walks Sandy to her car, opens the door for her and waits patiently as she throws her jacket in the backseat. She’s arranging her skirt, glancing up at Jared with huge, hopeful eyes so he leans down, one hand on the car door and the other reaching up to cup her face. Her eyes flutter down, Jared leans in—
In the corner of his eye, he sees some movement in the side mirror of the car. He can’t help but flicker his gaze to it, even though he’s so close to Sandy that he can feel her warm breath over his lips.
He wants to look. It’s just human nature, right? He wants to turn around and see who’s behind them. Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable kissing around others, maybe he doesn’t want any trouble from some drunkard stumbling out of the bar. Maybe it has nothing to do with the one thing that’s been dominating his mind all night (all day, all week)…no. No, it doesn’t have anything to do with that, with him, so Jared ducks down and presses his mouth against Sandy’s.
Her lips are sticky with gloss. She tastes like peaches. It’s good, it’s real good, but for some inexplicable reason he’d expected them fuller, to have more give; expected her lips to be soft and smooth but dry, and firm.
-----
“So do you want to fuck her or not?”
“Oh my God, what gives? ” Tom covers his face with his hands, as if that’ll keep Jensen and his lack of propriety at bay. Ha ha, nice try, kiddo.
“I’m serious here! She’s hot and single. You’re hot and single,” Jensen reasons. It makes perfect sense.
“Hey you hear that?” Mike shoulders his way between the two of them. “Jenny thinks you’re hot. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something,” he snickers, slinging his arms around them as Tom blushes a deep shade of what the other immortals have affectionately dubbed the “Tommy Glow”.
It’s nighttime in downtown LA and the three immortals are sitting at their favorite bar, sharing a quick evening drink. Jensen’s feeling good and loose, encouraging the alcohol to flow through his system and work out the tension that’s crept up over the past week or so. So okay, it’s possible he may’ve overdone it a tiny bit for a weekday but hey, it’s been stressful lately. Really, incredibly stressful, no thanks to that lumbering oaf of a mortal who’d somehow managed to slip through the system over and over again. Jared is single-handedly destroying Jensen’s career, with the added bonus of doing it right before the V-Day reviews.
Yeah, let’s not think about that, Jensen thinks. He shrugs out from underneath Rosenbaum’s arm and swivels around on the bar stool, nearly slipping off before scootching back, then fixes Tom with a pointed look. “I’m completely serious Tom,” he says, as the other two exchange amused looks. Hey, hey, he’s not that drunk. Ignoring their deprecating smiles, Jensen continues, “You like her, don’t you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Kristin likes you. ”
“It… it’s not like that,” Tom says, clearly unhappy as he looks over to Mike for help, but he’s tuned them out in favor of idly watching the TV mounted in the corner. So Tom takes matters into his own hands, coughing loudly and saying, “So, uh, you ever get your invisibility checked out?”
Oh, Jensen wants to steamroll over that sad attempt at changing the subject. He really does, but one look at Tom’s pleading blue eyes and it’s enough to send a little guilt over in Jensen’s direction. He sighs and casts Tom a pitying look. “Yeah, I had the guys over in IT look it over but they said there’s nothing wrong with it. Hey,” Jensen snaps his fingers, remembering. “Maybe you’ll know the answer to this. Is there any chance the guy who keeps seeing me could be part-immortal? Because it’s always the same guy wrecking my cloak, so I thought maybe it’s just him.”
Tom mulls this over for a bit but Mike’s the one to answer, “Nah, that’s not it. If somebody’s got even a drop of immortal blood, he should be able to see you just fine without messing with your cloak. Has to do with the ions in our blood and how they interact with the electromagnetic field around the cloak.” Making sure that Jensen and Tom look duly impressed, Mike buffs his nails on his shirt. “Fucked a girl in IT, once.”
“Ah,” they reply.
“Damn it though, puts me back to square one,” Jensen sighs.
“Better figure it out soon, though Jenny,” Mike says, leaning in. “Now you didn’t hear it from me, but grapevine among the higher execs says you’ve got some competition for top Cupid this year.”
“What?” Oh, hell no. That award’s been his for the last three years and Jensen is not about to give up special treatment (his Casual Fridays!) and a hefty bonus just because one overgrown kid couldn’t be bothered to fall in love like a normal human being.
“Really? Jensen’s got competition?” Tom asks incredulously. No way. Tom had secretly hero-worshiped the Bureau’s most (in)famous Cupid since the early days; he’d gone through college on a diet of near legends like how Jensen had shot thirty couples in the span of one football game, or how he’d paired up an entire sorority house, much to the delight of every male Cupid who’d dropped by to witness the aftermath. No freaking way could somebody outdo Cupid 97.
“Who is it?” Jensen demands.
“I can’t say who,” Mike says, but then shrugs immediately after. “Some sleeper hit from New York. Cupid 23.”
“23…” Jensen’s eyes widen. “Hey, you talking about Jeff Morgan?”
“Yeah, that’s his name,” Mike replies. “Why, you know the guy?”
Does he know the guy? Christ, Jeff’s the one who’d recruited him six years ago, when Jensen had just graduated college without a clue as to what he should do with the rest of his life. And after that… he’d known Jeff a couple years more, under his mentorship in the training program. Known the solid weight of muscle against his own, the sexy scrape of stubble across his face. The feel of Jeff’s smile blanketing him, slow, God, like the Texas sun. Known all these things and more.
When he notices his friends staring at him, Jensen clears his throat and says, “Yeah. I worked with him back in Dallas for awhile.”
Nodding, Tom says, “I’ve heard of him. He was supposed to be really good, but then he quit the Bureau out of the blue a few years ago. I wonder why he came back?”
“Well, either way, he’s climbing the ranks like crazy so you better be in top form,” Mike says, nudging Jensen with his shoulder. Jensen just grips his pint with both hands, staring down the dark liquid like it’ll speak to him if he waits long enough. Damn it, maybe this wasn’t the night for drinking—old, familiar anger and insecurity rises up in him and Jensen doesn’t even have his sobriety to stamp the feelings down with.
He decisively picks up his beer, downs the last half of it, then wipes the foam off his mouth as he slides off the stool. “Well, guys,” he says. “It’s a work day tomorrow. I’m going home.”
Mike’s back to watching the game on TV, so he waves Jensen off with one hand. “You go ahead, I’m just gonna finish this up.”
Tom glances back and forth between the two of them, then says, “I’m gonna stick around too. See you tomorrow, Jensen.”
“Later,” he says, clapping them on the backs before making his way out of the bar.
Once he’s pushed through into the warm night air, Jensen walks towards his car with the full intention of driving straight home, but when he trips over the curb he realizes he should probably sober up a bit before hitting the streets. In the glove compartment of his car is a pack of smokes so he reaches in, finagles out a cigarette, then lights it with the car’s push-in lighter.
The first deep inhale hits him low and easy. Jensen slams the door shut, turns around and leans against his car as he observes the half-empty parking lot, his gaze lidded and sleepy, filtering in the wan pools of light that glow from tall fluorescent lamps.
So, Jeff’s up for the number one spot, huh? Not that he’s surprised by it. No, Jensen knows that his former teacher deserves that recognition more than anyone. It’s past due, in fact. Still doesn’t stop Jensen from wanting to come out on top though, wanting to steal the award out from under Jeff’s nose so he realizes that hey, maybe he’d made a mistake all those years ago. Maybe he shouldn’t have dumped Jensen’s ass in Texas, only to disappear off the radar for the next three years. Not a word, damn it; he hadn’t even said a word to Jensen.
Shit, the drinking was definitely a bad idea tonight. Can’t get away from his own moods when he’s like this.
Jensen takes another slow drag off his cigarette, listening to the sizzle of tobacco and oxygen before he exhales and watches the smoke dissipate in front of him. Beyond the haze, a couple rows over, there’s a Jeep with two bodies on the other side. He can’t make out the color of the car—in this lighting, everything’s washed in murky oranges—but the car looks familiar. Curious, Jensen pads over with a vague sense of foreboding at the pit of his stomach. When he stops before the two mortals, he shouldn’t be surprised.
He shouldn’t be, and he isn’t. Somehow he’d just known he would run into him again.
It’s Jared. And Sandy, too; only the two most troublesome targets Jensen’s ever had the displeasure of being assigned to during his entire career as Cupid. They’re standing there, Jared crowding the girl against the open door of her car and bending down to kiss her, her feet on tiptoe to reach him.
He’s kissing her, and Jensen’s suddenly pissed because what the fuck, what is the problem? If these two kids aren’t in love—Jared’s hand dwarfs her face, his thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek—if this isn’t two mortals living out their god-ordained love, then Jensen’s a soft cuddly kitty. Or a cat with claws and pissed, more like, because he’s about to be pushed to second place in the rankings, pushed beneath Jeff and thus confirming the fact that Jensen wasn’t good enough, wasn’t ever good enough to be on top of Jeff, on top of him hard, aching, wanting.
“Shit,” he curses, grimacing at the realization that he’s circled back to fucking Jeffrey Dean Morgan.
Jensen pinches the cigarette between his finger and thumb, pulling it to his lips for one last drag when in front of him, Jared turns around and inhales sharply, loud enough for them all to hear.
Ah, fuck. Not again.
“Jensen,” Jared breathes, disbelief coloring his words. “I didn’t—what are you doing here?” Behind Jared’s huge frame, Sandy peeks out, watching Jensen with interest.
“Was here for a few drinks. Heading home now, though,” he says, sucking hard at the butt of his cigarette as if that last bit of nicotine will get him out of this one. Jared watches him unblinkingly, his eyes tracing the hollow of Jensen’s cheeks, the shape of Jensen’s lips around the filter.
“Sorry,” Jared says, shaking his head a little bit. “This is my friend Sandy. Sandy, Jensen.”
She winds around Jared’s body and steps forward, shaking Jensen’s proffered hand as he flicks the used butt away. “Nice to meet you,” she smiles, her teeth white and straight against red, red lips.
Now, Jensen thinks to himself as he grips her small hand in his own, he has two choices. He can either get the fuck out of there, pretend like his invisibility doesn’t get flattened by Jared’s presence alone…or, he could play along. Accept the fact that there’s something off about this whole job, but that he needs to get it done nonetheless. Even if it means doing it (ugh) the old-fashioned way.
Jeff’s face briefly flickers through his mind and Jensen finds that there are no options here, not really. He isn’t, he won’t give up so easily.
Jensen leans in, pulling on their joined hands so that Sandy stutters in closer. If he’s going to have to do this the hard way, it means he’s got to get creative. He’s got to get Jared and Sandy to fall in love without magic.
“Nice to meet you too,” he says, pitching his voice low. He licks his bottom lip, letting his tongue linger there because he remembers it used to drive Jeff crazy and he’s thinking it just might work on the pretty lady too. Sandy’s eyes flick down to his mouth and Jensen thinks, Still got it.
Good. If Jensen’s going to do this, actually throw himself into playing matchmaker between Jared and Sandy, he’s going to have to dust off all his old tricks because he’s formulating a plan. In the time between his last puff and the meeting of Sandy’s palm against his, Jensen’s figured out how this is going to work.
It’s basic, really. Any Cupid worth his salt knows a few back-up procedures to follow when the arms and arsenal fall through. And this plan’s the simplest of the bunch: play the girl, get some jealousy flowing, and pray the ensuing attraction between the couple grows into love. And while the cons aren’t great, since the targets will often fall out of love soon after, it doesn’t really matter in this case because Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and along with it, the Bureau’s annual award ceremony. Right around the corner so Jensen can sweep this nightmare of a job under the rug just long enough to get up on stage and dazzle the crowd (which will include a regretful, pining Jeff, of course) with his fourth consecutive year as top Cupid. Yup, sounds like a plan.
“So,” Jensen says, still clasping Sandy’s hand. “Whatcha kids up to for the night?”
Sandy self-consciously reclaims her hand and tucks her hair behind an ear. “Well, it’s a weeknight—“
“We were, uh…” Jared cuts in, eyes darting over to Sandy. “We were just heading over to Toi for some grub.” He sends her a pleading look whose meaning is way beyond Jensen, but she catches on quickly and follows up with a murmur of agreement. “I’m freakin’ starving. You too, right?” Jared asks Sandy, his words sounding like an Is this okay? Jensen flits his gaze between the two, trying to work out their mental conversation but before he can tap into it, the awkwardness breaks.
Sandy rolls her eyes a little and nudges Jared as she confirms, “Yeah. Starving. ”
“Mm, sounds goods,” Jensen agrees casually.
“So what’re you up to?” Jared asks a little too quickly. Noticing Jensen’s assessing gaze, he follows it up with a lame cough.
Jensen’s a merciful man, however. “Just dicking around until I’m sober enough to drive,” he answers with the jerk of a thumb towards his car.
“Oh yeah? Well there’s room in my car, you wanna come with?” Jared glances at Sandy again, praying that he’s not pushing his luck.
He needn’t have worried; Sandy’s eyes light up and she nods encouragingly. “Yeah, come with us. It’ll be fun.”
In the bag, Jensen smirks inwardly, even as he puts on airs, hemming and hawing just for show; does it just to make her want it that much more, hoping her enthusiasm will point Jared down the path to some good old-fashioned jealousy.
“You know you want some pad thai,” Sandy wheedles, rocking forward and butting against Jensen with her shoulder. Her eyes look impossibly large as they blink up at him.
Jared frowns.
Jensen smiles. “Alright,” he says eventually.
Oh, this is going to be easy.
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Date: 2007-10-16 03:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-16 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 04:20 am (UTC)ROFLMAO
Funniest image ever!
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Date: 2007-11-02 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 08:20 am (UTC)HILARIOUS. :-D
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Date: 2009-01-20 05:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 05:36 am (UTC)Thanks for letting me know you're liking the story! I have such a soft spot for it.
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Date: 2009-01-20 06:31 am (UTC)Toi Thai is awesome; it's a Thai restaurant but with a punk rock theme, so the tables all have like Sex Pistols album covers beneath the surface, and there are guitars all over the walls and stuff. It's probably not the most authentic Thai you could get ever or anything, but it's really good, and you always meet interesting people there. (LA's weird like that, though. I ran into one of the guys from Duran Duran at the newsstand once and didn't even realize it because I was too busy petting his yippy little dog. ;D) Your fic made me kinda nostalgic; I haven't lived there in years and it's not really the city for me (I'm not a city girl at all anymore, I'm afraid), but I had some great times there, and it was certainly nice to picture Jensen and Jared necking on La Brea. I used to live just off La Brea, I could've seen them! ;D
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Date: 2009-01-22 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-04 05:23 pm (UTC)Cat