aeroport_art | Fic: paper.planes (6/6)

Title: paper.planes (6/6)
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Author:

aeroport_art
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3,369 (24,000)
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.
Notes: Is done!! I hope you guys enjoyed it ._. Feedback = ♥

Summary: In which Jared is a wee British undergrad, and Jensen, American postgrad extraordinnaire, seduces him with how great his ass looks in a pair of jeans.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It’s been a week since Jared last saw Jensen.

The graduation ceremony is taking place on campus this afternoon, and seeing as how it may quite possibly be Jared’s final chance to see Jensen, he doesn’t fancy it the best occasion to be nearly two hours late.

Jared bursts through double doors, panting hard as he scans the room frantically—the auditorium is cluttered with folding chairs jostled helter-skelter and abandoned programs litter the floor but otherwise, the room’s devoid of life.

Fuck! Jared curses inwardly. He morosely runs his eyes over the ghost town before him as he catches his breath, carding a hand through sweat-damp hair before he resignedly makes his way towards the nearest chair. Bloody photo shoots always go overtime. A loud screech of metal on linoleum resounds when Jared flops into the chair.

Far up on stage, a man straightens up from behind the podium. “Can I help you?” he calls out.

Quickly recovering from his surprise, Jared bounds out of his chair and strides forward. “Yeah, I just missed the ceremony. Where’d everybody go?” he asks.

The man points to the exit behind him with a mic-wielding hand. “Reception’s out back,” he says.

Jared’s halfway out the door before he can finish saying “thanks.”

-----

There’s an itch on Jensen’s leg. He scratches it, digging blunt fingernails through polyester robe, through the fabric of his jeans, but the spot just tickles that much more. He gives up, exasperated, and turns his attention back to the podium.

Jensen counts eight more graduates before it’s his turn to walk. Jared still hasn’t shown.

Damn it, Jay. He said he’d come—had sworn it, just last week during their lunch together. Jared had been all bright smiles and heartfelt enthusiasm about attending Jensen’s graduation ceremony, and so he’d thought—he’d stupidly assumed that everything that happened after their lunch, back at Jensen’s apartment…he’d hoped it wouldn’t change Jared’s intentions of coming.

But, well. So much for that.

“Jensen Ackles,” the announcer reads aloud and Jensen snaps out of his reverie, stands up to the whoops and catcalls of his fellow classmates and saunters up as he takes the diploma with a big smile. A girl in the audience yells out “I love you!” , the crowd letting loose a collective chuckle as Jensen feels his neck and ears warm. Still, he uses the time and vantage point to scan the rows of people for one last, cursory search.

No Jared.

Jensen steps down and returns to his seat.

By the time the last name’s been called, Jensen’s given up on seeing Jared at all, for the rest of the day. Maybe, possibly ever. Jensen stuffs his disappointment down, suffering through the end of the ceremony. Afterwards, he files out the back doors alongside his studiomates.

Get over it, dammit, Jensen tells himself. It’s just a guy, for God’s sake; plenty more where that came from.

Jensen squares his shoulders with spackled-in resolve and steps out into the light.

Outside, the weather’s good; spring is in the air and the sun grows in confidence by day. In the courtyard there’s a smattering of cherrywoods that sprinkle white petals like snow, catching in drifts along the edge of the lawn.

Mike appears at Jensen’s side and hands him a plastic glass of champagne. “All they’ve got is the bubbly shite,” Mike apologizes. “But hey, booze is booze.”

Jensen shrugs agreeably and they butt their plastic cups together.

“To getting more than three hours of sleep a night,” Jensen offers.

“To never laying eyes on Brian’s ass crack in studio anymore!” Mike adds. The commiserate with exaggerated shudders before downing their drinks. The fizz travels up Jensen’s sinuses in a huge rush and he sneezes.

“Bless you,” a female voice sounds.

Jensen’s rubbing the tickle in his nose away when he looks up to find Sandra McCoy standing in front of him. His eyes slide behind her.

“He’s not here,” Sandy says.

“I wasn’t—“ Jensen replies automatically, but she simply raises a manicured eyebrow and Jensen shuts up.

Sandy flicks her eyes over to Mike, who straightens up visibly. “I’m sorry, can I borrow Jensen for a moment?” she asks.

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Mike replies, flustered. When Jensen snickers it earns him a venomous glare before Mike leaves to join their old classmates.

Sandy places a hand on Jensen’s elbow and guides him over to the corner of the courtyard, under the shade of a softly snowing tree. Jensen automatically throws his back against the cool bark, arms crossed over his chest.

Sandy hesitates, and this makes Jensen nervous. He bites at the quick of his thumbnail.

“It’s about Jared,” she begins. God, it makes her sick to do this, but she knows she must. “I need to know how you feel about him.”

“What?” Jensen asks, shifting his weight and crossing his ankles.

Sandy toys with the ends of her hair, fretting. Ever since Jared found out Jensen was graduating, he’d been nothing but sullen and moody, and it’s so out of character that even his blithe friends had begun to notice. By this point, at wit’s end, Sandy will do almost anything to get Jared back— including confronting the source of the problem.

She hastily demands, “You heard me. Do you fancy him, or are you just in for a quick shag? Are you playing him?”

Jensen’s eyes widen at her words. What— how? “What’s Jared been saying?”

“—Because if you’re just playing him,” Sandy continues, her voice breaking a bit at the end. She clears her throat. “I can’t forgive you if you are.”

Jensen watches in alarm as Sandy slumps in on herself, dark hair obscuring her face. Unsettled, Jensen repeats, “What did he say to you?”

“He didn’t have to say anything. I’ve been his best friend for years, he reads like a book. It isn’t rocket science to know…” Sandy takes a breath, ignores the queasiness in her stomach. “That he’s completely in love with you.”

Jensen blinks slowly and tightens his arms. He says, “What about you and… I thought you guys were dating.”

Sandy gives him a look like she’s observing a particularly slow child, but it’s disguised with such politeness that it only makes Jensen feel ten times worse. Luckily, comprehension soon dawns across her face and she responds, “Oh, you mean the rumours? I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea. We simply never bothered to correct the papers or anything—it was easier to let people believe what they wanted.”

Her words sound casual, but there’s a hint of sadness lingering around the edges of Sandy’s smile. Before Jensen can mull over it, however, she quickly crosses her arms over her chest, and goes on the offense, prompting him— ”So, are you serious about Jared or not?”

Well… shit, Jensen thinks as the information slowly sinks in. As he lets himself believe Sandy’s dismissal of any romantic ties with Jared, a burgeoning warmth spreads from his chest and outwards. A smile emerges, unstoppable. “I…” Jensen starts as he steps forward. He rests a hand on Sandy’ bicep to ease her standoffish stance, placating, then throws a cursory look around before he quietly tells her.

He tells her, tells Sandy that her best friend Jay drives him crazy; funny farm, need-to-be-committed crazy, but it’s the hushed reverence and ill-contained excitement coloring his voice that tells Sandy all she needs, tells her more than she really wants to know.

Jensen keeps talking, lips close to her ear lest others overhear. But Sandy isn’t listening anymore, not really.

There, done, she thinks to herself. Although Sandy knows she’s giving up on the one thing she’s wanted her entire life, she finally feels at peace again. If telling Jensen what he needs to hear will chase the husk of Jared away and bring back the bravado of her best friend’s laugh, it’ll be worth it.

Sandy puts a hand on Jensen’s chest to push him away as suddenly, somebody cuts in and shoves Jensen up against the cherrywood trunk.

Jensen utters a noise before it gets muffled, his words choked in his throat.

Sandy takes a step backwards, watching in disbelief as her gentle, easygoing Jared pins Jensen to the tree, fists balled in his shirt and jaw clenching, their faces close, too close—

-----

When Jared leaves the empty, echoing auditorium to go outside, he’s immediately embraced by the stark contrast of life and laughter, by the celebratory noises coming from the throng of folks in the little courtyard. Shaking the dissonance off, he makes his way into the crowd in search of Jensen. The courtyard is not that big; he shouldn’t have any trouble.

However, after mingling for several minutes and making small talk with a few casual friends, he’s starting to wonder if Jensen’s there at all.

What the hell? he thinks, making another surreptitious loop through the crowd. He suddenly spies a shocking green beanie and recognizes the face of Jensen’s friend, who he’s seen a few times before. He walks over.

“Hey, excuse me. Do you know where Jensen is?” Jared asks the familiar face as the small group of graduates around him pause and stare.

“Oh, hi,” the guy responds. “That’s funny, he’s with Sandra McCoy. You know, your, uh…”

What the hell’s he doing with Sandy? Jared wonders. He hadn’t been under the impression that the two were friends. Only…wait. The other day, when they’d—when he and Jensen had… done stuff …hadn’t he mentioned something about Sandy just as they were breaking apart?

Unease sits down on Jared’s shoulders, making itself at home. Jared frowns and asks, “You know where they went?”

“I left ‘em back there,” Jensen’s friend vaguely gestures towards the perimeter of the lawn and Jared thanks him politely.

Once he knows what he’s looking for, it isn’t hard to spot Sandy with her unmistakable figure, tiny and petite in the sea of blue-garbed graduates and older parents. But just as he’s about to call her name, the unease on his shoulders drops down to his gut like a stone.

Well, no wonder he couldn’t find the guy. Tall as he is, Jensen’s obscured by Sandy as he slouches low against the trunk of a cherrywood. Little white petals dot his dark hair, and if this were any other time, Jared would go over and make fun of him for it. Not now, though.

Jensen leans forward and touches Sandy on the arm. He moves in close, mouth hovering over her ear and that’s when Jared catches a glimpse of Jensen’s face… eyes bright and a heat-soaked smile like daybreak, even from this distance.

Jensen hasn’t smiled at Jared like that for months. Not since the very beginning, when they’d hardly known each others names yet—and sure, Jared’s been recipient to some amazing smiles since. He’s gotten the lustful ones, the amused ones, and all these other ones like a damned assortment pack of expressions, but the one he’s giving away to Sandy? It’s unguarded, and it hurts to watch when it’s not Jared on the receiving end.

Sandy bows her head, beautiful hair spilling over Jensen’s bicep as he lifts a sure hand and places it on her bare arm, leaning ever closer as he whispers into her ear. Sandy tips in, palm delicate on his chest.

What the fuck? he thinks, when just like that—the puzzle pieces snap together. A fierce possessiveness launches out of left field and crunches into Jared’s chest, and before he can stop to think twice, he’s stormed over and bunched up fistfuls of Jensen’s robe, crinkling polyester into permanent creases as he shoves him up against the tree.

Jensen’s eyes are startling green, his mouth agape with shock. Beneath his fists, Jared feels a sharp inhalation.

“Ja—“

Jared doesn’t want to hear it, so he shuts Jensen up with a hard kiss. Pushes insistently at Jensen’s body until there’s no space and no air, just tight pressure, muscle against muscle, bone against bone — but under his mouth, Jensen doesn’t move.

Shit, Jared’s mind catches up as he launches himself backwards. Jensen instantly grabs a handful of Jared’s shirtfront and he flinches, anticipating the blow, but when nothing follows he disentangles himself from Jensen’s grasp and jerks away.

He’d look up to meet Jensen’s gaze but he won’t, he can’t—

And so, he flees.

-----

Back at his flat, Jared is moping. He’s watching a classic horror marathon on the telly—currently the Blob is in the midst of ingesting everything in sight, as is Jared. Brandishing a spoon, Jared digs into the pint of Cherry Garcia that’s sitting, cold, in his lap.

Sandy has been calling him for hours, leaving plaintive messages riddled with pleas for him to call her back, but fuck that. Behind my fucking back, he seethes. God dammit, she knew Jared had a thing for Jensen, must have known. Doesn’t matter that he never said anything aloud; looking back on it, Jared had never been what one could call subtle about his enthusiasm for Jensen, and Sandy of all people should’ve been able to piece things together.

He growls and digs out a frozen cherry with his spoon, popping it into his mouth. Maybe he should’ve claimed Jensen better, black permanent marker on smooth forehead. Property of Jared Tristan Padalecki.

Onscreen, the Blob predatorily eyes a bus when just behind Jared, the loud buzz of the doorbell sounds.

Jared ignores it and sucks vanilla off his spoon. But then comes the pounding—insistent thumps on wood that shake the walls and shove annoyance down Jared’s throat until he has no choice but to concede. When the film cuts to a commercial break, he curses and gets up, storming towards the door.

He yanks it open, hinges quivering from the force.

“Goddammit Sandy, just—“

Jensen’s fist is poised mid-knock. Jared freezes.

“How did you…?” Jared asks, brow furrowed in confusion. As Jensen lets his hand fall, Jared leans against the doorframe, effectively blocking the entryway. “What are you doing here?”

“Sandy sent me. She’s worried…” Jensen trails off as Jared’s eyes darken perceptibly. “What’s going on with you?”

What’s going on? Jared nearly laughs aloud at that, as images of Jensen and Sandy—laughing and smiling and conspiring together—storm his consciousness.

In the silence, Jensen carefully steps closer but Jared stands his ground. Jensen’s so close, his head’s tipped up just to meet Jared’s gaze.

“Jay,” Jensen says, almost warningly. It sounds like a dare, and Jared was never one to back down.

“Fine. You want to know what’s going on? Well let me enlighten you,” he starts bitterly as Jensen’s eyes widen. Jared continues, “There’s this guy who’s been hitting on me all term, but he’s a bloody arse about it and I never know what the hell he’s thinking, not even after he’s gotten into my pants—during which, for the record, he ditched me while I was still in his flat, bare-arsed naked. He changes his mind about what he wants at the drop of a hat and lately, his preference isn’t me but my best friend—“ Jensen splutters but Jared barrels on— “What’s going on is I’m kind of fucked. Kind of really fucked because I still want the guy. I still fucking want him, but he’s graduated, he’ll be gone and I’ll never see him again, but still— even now— all I really want to do is just...”

Jared falters, emotions breaking across his face. Jensen just gawps at him, breathing heavily through his mouth, and God, Jared’s so turned around that even that makes his fingers itch, wanting to reach out, maybe…

…God, he is not going down that path, not this time. Instead, Jared channels that tension into other uses—he bites, “What are you doing here anyway? I figured you’d be halfway to California by now.”

“Jared—“

“That or, I don’t know, spending your last moments with Sandy, since you two seem to hit it off better than we ever did.”

Jensen grunts and has the audacity to look impatient, opening his mouth to perhaps explain himself, to delineate the merits of a Sandy and Jensen union and fuck if that doesn’t make Jared all the angrier. He bends closer, vulnerability eclipsed by fury-colored words. “Don’t even say it Jensen, I don’t need to hear it. Tell Sandy I hope she’s happy. I hope you’re both happy—“

“Jared, shut the fuck up,” Jensen says quietly, hands reaching up to tangle in Jared’s overgrown hair and yanking the taller man down. Their mouths suddenly share the same breaths, mere millimeters apart, and if Jared keeps talking his words will get lost between Jensen’s full, parted lips. Jared shuts his mouth and swallows hard.

“You’re an idiot,” Jensen whispers, then licks at the hard line of Jared’s lips.

Jared murmurs back a decidedly witty, cutting remark, but it gets absorbed in the space between Jensen’s teeth. He feels Jensen smile against his mouth, quick slide of teeth against his own lips but hell Jared isn’t something to laugh at, so he does what any guy with a pair would do— roughs up Jensen’s shirt with clenched fists, and drags the man into his loft.

This time around, Jared’s not thinking about much at all. Just lets go, lets himself want and have, as he forces his tongue in deeper, bearing down until the door’s slammed shut behind them and his weight’s on top, bearing down until he’s winning. Between Jared and the front door, Jensen (and his mouthneckarse) is his.

“God, Jay—” Jensen pants, hips rolling involuntarily beneath Jared’s.

“Yeah,” Jared agrees, biting against Jensen’s throat.

“Hold on. I gotta—I gotta ask— “

“Can we please not talk about Sandy right now?” Jared whuffs air through his nose, deeply frustrated. “God damn it, Jen, if you’re here to ask for my blessing or something, I think you already know my answer to that,” he grumps, pausing from his sampling of Jensen’s jaw just long enough to gesture down at his crotch, where his arousal tents the front of his jogging shorts. Except Jensen—the strange, unfathomable creature that he is—he doesn’t look disappointed at all. Far from, in fact; he just lights up like the summer sky and beams with the sunniest, most artless grin Jared’s ever seen on anyone’s face.

Jensen chuckles a little, before grabbing Jared by the back of the neck to jerk him down down. When they’re eyes are level, Jensen says, filthily, “All I wanted to ask was where your bed is at.”

Unable to come up with anything more articulate than a slow, dumbstruck smile that mirrors the one on Jensen’s face, Jared just says, “Oh.”

Jensen starts unbuttoning his own shirt, looking pointedly at Jared. “It’s, uh—“ Jared stutters, cocking his head towards the door to his room just as Jensen peels off his button-down, standing before Jared in only a thin, white undershirt and jeans.

Sod it, Jared thinks. He latches onto Jensen’s belt with two sure hands and pulls him into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

There’s a lot more that could be said for what goes on behind it, but what they share—Jensen, open and endless as a blue, cloudless day, and Jared breathless with it—it’s for them, and them only.

And when it’s over—for the time being, at least—Jared thinks to himself, Finally. Ghosts his fingers over Jensen’s sleeping face and kisses him on his eyelids. The best part is? When Jensen wakes, he just pulls Jared back down to his pillow and murmurs against the crook of Jared’s neck, burrowing under covers like he wants to stay there all day and all night—like he wants to stay for as long as Jared will let him.

If that’s the case—Jared eases down, makes himself comfortable around the warm curl of Jensen’s body—Jared figures they’re going to be there for a very, very long time.

fin.

Back