Category/Rated: Slash, Adult
Year/Length: 2009/~10,3100 words
Pairing: Sam/Dean and Jensen/Jared
Disclaimer: We don't pretend to know what happens in real life. This is purely for fun and we mean no harm.
Author's Notes: This is crack, pure and simple. Imagine if the boys had to attend a convention!
Dean looked at Castiel, his eyebrows somewhere up in his hairline. "You can't be serious. They actually made a TV show?" He shoved the convention program over so Sam could see it.
"It's all over the internet," Castiel said. "Chuck didn't ask for this, but this man, Erik Kripke, thought it would translate well to TV and wanted to do the show. I guess it will be another way for your fans..."
"No, don't say it," Dean held up his hand to stop the angel from going any further. "That still wigs me out."
"The Winch..." the angel looked confused.
"That's enough!" Dean stopped him in his tracks with a forbidding expression that was apparently enough to silence even an angel of the Lord. "So why do we have to go there again?" the older Winchester flopped down on his bed, grabbing his gun to clean it.
Sam watched the two interact with a half smile as he sat at the table, watching the show that was upsetting Dean so much on his laptop. Lifting shrewd, hazel–green eyes to study Castiel, he reflected that he liked this angel better than any of the others they'd encountered so far. Uriel had been an ass, and Sam was half glad he was out of the picture. But it did make him wonder what was going on up there.
"You need to recover a scroll," Castiel announced, in that aggravatingly calm voice of his. It seemed that whenever the angel needed to tell them something he would 'announce' it as if to a throng.
"What kind of a scroll?" Sam asked finally speaking up, since Dean apparently wasn't going to.
Castiel turned his attention to Sam, and the Winchester could swear that there was relief in his eyes that he'd got an audience, albeit a small one. "It's called the Codex Angelicus, and it has a list of all of our members, descriptions, and, more importantly, a number of very powerful spells such as the one you saw Anna use. If that falls into the wrong hands ..."
"You mean demon hands," Dean finally spoke up from where he was checking out his firing pin.
"And it's at this geek filled convention," he sighed.
Castiel nodded again. "There was a serious error made, and somehow one of Uriel's host caused it to be printed on a poster the 'stars' of your show are to sign and will be auctioning off."
"And you want us to go to this ridiculous gathering to get it?" Sam looked over at Dean, catching Dean before he could disguise his smirk.
"And I was looking forward to ordering pizza and watching porn," said Dean. He slapped his gun together and shoved it down the back of his jeans. "Well, let's get rolling."
Dean let out a chuckle as he heard Sam scratching at his chin again. "It is so killing you that you can't shave 'til after the convention."
"He's such a slob. Why did he have to let himself go like that? Doesn't he know he has the Winchester pride at stake?" Sam's eyes were wide with outrage, his face pink beneath the scruffy stubble he was sporting. "Besides, all angels are dicks. Do we have to do this, just because the holy tax accountant says we should?"
Dean chuckled some more. "It's not being a slob. They film in the cold, it's called insulation." The part about this job that he hated was coming up; they were getting into city traffic. God, he loathed it. He considered pulling over and letting Sam take the wheel.
"Look, if it will help us get in, we need to do this. Besides, I'm not thinking of the angels so much as what bastard demons like your girlfriend Ruby will do with that roster of angels," Dean pointed out. "If we can keep them from getting one up on us, let's just do it. Get the poster and get the hell out of that freak nut house."
"You'd just better not decide there's some fan you wanna nail." Sam knew his brother, and he really wanted to point a lesson home to him. "Just read this shit," he said, indicating the sheaf of fan fiction he'd printed off. "They're all completely nuts. You stand the risk of losing your dick to some weirdo that thinks you shouldn't be fucking your brother." The smile in Sam's voice was almost hidden, but there was enough there to make Dean wonder. Sam shrugged, letting his brother off the hook. "Okay, we get in, grab the poster and get out again, yeah? What could be simpler than that?"
Flashing his brother a look composed of equal parts horror and lust, Dean shook his head. "Dude, you've got to be kidding me. I don't even want to think about fan fiction. They are obsessed with us? They have no idea!" Laughing, Dean reached to turn the music down. "I mean remember that girl with the tattoo on her rear? So not my type! And people writing fan fiction? It's a really nice thought, but I so just want to get that poster and get out. Besides, what I do with you is my business. Though I will say," He favored Sam with a wicked grin, "Some of those stories gave me ideas."
The hotel the convention was to be held in appeared in the distance, and he gave a little groan as they rolled into the lot and pulled into a parking space. Dean looked at Sam with a frown. "Okay, who are we supposed to be again?"
"Your name is Jensen – Jensen Ackles." Sam smirked. "It's not the kind of name I'd expect an actor to have. If I were him I'd have changed it to something a bit more manly, but I guess he decided to tough it out. I shall call you Jenny baby!" He unfastened his seat belt and turned to look at Dean, nodding. "Yep, definitely a Jenny baby," he said, grinning. "My name is Jared Padalecki – and that's much more manly, I think."
Dean climbed out of the car, waving his hand in dismissal. "They both sound like a cat hacking up a hair ball. And don't call me that, stay in character." He really wasn't keen on wearing Jensen Ackles' summer season look, even if he was still able to wear his beat up jeans and a half grown beard. Biting his lip, he turned and headed for the front door, through the glass doors and up to the reception counter. "Hey, we're here to check in."
The woman at the desk looked up from her paperwork, and her eyes went wide. "Uh, excuse me, yes. I... let me get someone..." She picked up the phone, dialed a number and said, "They're here." Then she gave Dean a brilliant smile. "I'm a big fan of yours," she said. "I've always wanted to know what those things were that you stuffed in your mouth in that ep with the trickster. Were they real? Did you eat them?"
A man came hurtling through the foyer towards the two of them, saving Dean from having to admit that he didn't know what she was talking about. "Gentlemen, you're early. I'm sorry. We would have picked you up from the airport. Did you catch an earlier plane?"
Both Winchesters turned and looked at him, sweat on the man's brow showing how nervous he was. "Um, yeah, we came early. Look, can you get us different rooms from the ones you booked for us? We had information that... that our room numbers were known, and we don't want fans... you know finding us. Oh and they are sending two lookalikes later, give them those rooms, okay."
"Uh... absolutely." The man turned to the receptionist. "We need to get them out of the foyer before they're spotted. Most of the fans are in the auditorium right now, but you know what they're like when they think they can get some alone time with Sam and Dean, don't you?"
The lady was typing feverishly, and after a moment, she handed the man a pair of keycards. "Sorry," she said. "Those rooms aren't the ones we put the welcome baskets in. I'll have someone deliver one to your suite right away."
"Thanks, sweetheart," Dean smiled at her, causing her to blush and gasp as he started to follow the con organizer over to the elevator, carrying his bag. He raised an eyebrow at Sam as they stepped into it. "So do we have a schedule or something?"
"Yes, I'll get that right to you," the man informed him as they stepped off and headed down the hallway toward their suite.
Catching Sam's eye, Dean smiled.
Sam wasn't smiling, although he felt a little relieved that they'd arrived before their alter egos. He was the first one into the suite that had been allocated to them, and he looked around himself with great interest, enjoying the kind of accommodation a movie star could expect to stay in.
After their assistant, whose name apparently was Adam, had left, promising to return momentarily with their schedules, Sam turned to Dean. "Dude, too bad we can't stay here for the whole weekend. These beds are so comfy."
Dean whistled as he looked around, "Sammy, this place ... rocks! No wonder Dad never took us to places like this. We would have been spoiled." He walked over and looked out the window, whistling again. "Check it out, dude. There are girls all around the pool down there. Dude, these guys have it made." He rubbed his hands together in glee, then tardily shook himself and started the procedures required to make the suite safe, motioning to Sam for salt lines.
"I'm telling you, dude, we can't stay here. If they ever found out that we were ringers for the real actors, they'd probably sacrifice us to the great god Baal." Sam was pacing as he spoke. "It's a shame, but we're going to have to grab that poster and run with it. There won't be time for us to do any lounging around pools eating grapes. Where did Cas say that the poster was located? Maybe we can go and find it now."
Dean shrugged, "Until we get the schedule, I have no idea, unless you want to go and scout around?" He started for the door as he was speaking. "Let's ask to see where these poster things are, and maybe we can snatch it from there and get the heck out." As he pulled open the door he skidded backwards. A man who looked exactly like Castiel was at the door.
"Hey guys, thought you weren't getting here till later? Wanna grab some breakfast?" Misha Collins asked with a smile that freaked Dean out by its very existence.
"Breakfast?" asked Sam, frowning. "Since when do angels eat?" He studied the man in the doorway, trying to decide what seemed wrong about him. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "You lost the dirty old raincoat," he said. "Damn, I don't know if I'm going to be able to see you as angelic wearing blue jeans and an overshirt."
Misha looked down at himself and then up at Sam, "Of course I lost the dirty old raincoat. It's not like I take it with me when I leave the set." He shook his head at Sam with a pitying expression and then turned to Dean. "You wanna come, Jensen?"
"Um, sure," muttered Dean, looking at Sam for help. "C'mon, let's go."
So, thought Sam. Not Castiel at all. This must be the actor that plays him in that show. He stole a glimpse at the man who played at being an angel. He certainly looked like the angel, although he didn't think he'd ever seen Castiel crack a smile, and this man was grinning away, chatting to Dean and laughing as he described an encounter with a couple of fans that had been at the airport when he was waiting to be brought to the hotel. "One of them wanted me to sign my name on her shoulder. She said she was going to get it tattooed on. Isn't that nuts?"
Dean gaped at him, "You serious? To get it tattooed on her shoulder? Not her breast? That's kind of disappointing." He shook his head as they headed into the buffet area. Being Dean, he lost no time in grabbing a plate and loading it up with bacon and waffles.
Misha watched him and blinked, "You must be starving?"
"Well yeah!" Dean answered.
"He's always starving," murmured Sam, watching as Dean added eggs, sausage and maple syrup to his plate. "Anyone would think he never ate a meal in his life."
"I thought Jensen was really careful about watching his weight." Misha stared, mouth open as Dean found a seat and dug into the pile of food on his plate.
"I... er... guess that when he's nervous, he gets hungry. He's really nervous at the moment. The fans, you know? They put a lot of pressure on him."
Sam had gathered together some fruit and a yogurt, and was eying up the bagels as if trying to decide whether or not he wanted one.
Dean was stuffing his face and looked up at Misha as if he was insane to think someone would not eat like this. And then he realized they didn't know a thing about the other guys, or at least not personal stuff. He caught Sam's gaze and rolled his eyes as his brother picked out his more 'healthy' meal, then looked back to the other guy.
"Yeah, sometimes I get nervous, and I eat, but don't let that get out. Besides, the thing people really need to know is that Jared here gets gassy," he grinned.
"Yeah, he does." Misha shuddered. "He wanted me to pull his finger the other day. I refused, but to no avail. Oh, god, his insides must be toxic."
"Hey, I'm right here you know," protested Sam, frowning at Dean. "And don't think you're so lily–white either. You smell really bad when you eat onions, and you always eat onions. It's really sad." He grinned. "Sometimes I'm shocked that the car hasn't taken on the scent of your extra onions."
Dean just grinned at his brother, "My car," he informed his brother. "She loves me." He reached for his coffee and drank deeply. "So, I hear they want us to sign a bunch of posters and shit; got any idea where that's at?"
"Guess we need to wait for Adam to come and get us for that." Misha was busy gathering food for himself, and he looked up from the hash browns he was loading onto his plate. "I saw him a few minutes ago looking harassed, because the sound system was giving him trouble. He'll find us soon enough."
Nodding, Sam set to eating his breakfast, rapidly demolishing the fruit he'd taken and avoiding Misha's frowning regard. Vaguely he wondered if this Jared that was pretending to be him ate less healthily. Shrugging, he turned to his bagel and smeared it with cream cheese.
Dean cursed under his breath, because he really just wanted to get that poster and hit the road. He finished his plateful, considered licking it clean and then caught both Sam and Misha watching him. He leaned back then, nonchalantly reaching for his coffee and sipping as he looked around. "Okay, well, we should go look around. Let's go ...Sa...Sad sack," he corrected.
Sam was done with his breakfast too, and he began to get to his feet. Misha, who had been happily eating potatoes, laid down his fork. "I'll go with you," he announced. "I was really bored 'til you guys turned up. "It's no fun just waiting."
Dean looked at Sam then at Misha. "Um, okay," he answered as he made for the door, pulling it open. Turning quickly as the others came up, he headed in another direction. "Let's go this way," he said, hastily pulling them out through another side door, mouthing to Sam that their alter egos had arrived."
Worried, Sam began to wonder if they were too late, and they'd never manage to get that poster without discovery. He turned to Misha. "Listen, dude, we really need to get to that poster. I can't tell you why, but it's important. You down with that?"
"Are you pulling some kind of prank?" asked Misha, eyes wide and smile eager as though he was glad to be included. "Okay. Count me in. What can I do to help?"
Oh Yahtzee! Dean gave a big grin. "We were gonna draw mustaches and beards on them all. But we didn't want them to see 'til the auction, so if you can go find Adam and see where they are, we can go do our evil task." He grinned from ear to ear. Sam might think he couldn't lie convincingly, but he knew he was good at lying on the fly.
"Gotcha." Misha winked and scurried away on his mission. A moment later he was back. "Guys," he said, looking baffled. "There are two more out there that look exactly like you."
For a moment, Sam turned pale, but then he rallied. "Yeah, yeah. We know about them. They're Sam and Dean," he said, grinning. "Actually, they're doubles we use at these events to help us manage the fan attention. You should probably get one as well. You're starting to get pretty popular."
Nodding, Misha hastened away again, leaving the brothers to look at each other and roll their eyes.
Sighing heavily, Dean shook his head. "Man, this is gonna drive me nuts. C'mon; let's go see if we can find the damned poster and get out of here fast." He headed off down one of the corridors, making for the main hall. "This bites. Having the damned convention in the same place we're staying. How are we supposed to avoid fans in that case? Damn Castiel." He shook his head.
"I guess we need to stay in the service areas and blame the fans for having to hide." Sam elbowed his brother and then made his way after him. "But we need to find someone that can tell us where the poster is being kept."
Dean nodded. He was opening each door as he came to it, but so far there was nothing that looked like the place they sought. "Yeah, where is that Adam guy?" Dean stopped for a moment. He was looking into a room that held a table with a coffee urn on it, cups and saucers all neatly laid out alongside. He suddenly really wanted some.
"Dude, you're a slave to your stomach!" Laughing softly, Sam followed his brother towards the urn. As Dean poured himself a cup, Sam pulled out his phone and called the front desk. "We need to know where Adam is," he said. "Dammit. I don't know his last name. He didn't tell me. Just Adam." He paused. "This is Jared... Jared Paladicki. Yeah. Him."
Dean had explored the table further while Sam was talking. There were pastries in a basket covered by a white cloth. Lifting it, he grabbed for a donut and began stuffing it into his mouth as Sam spoke. He choked when he heard Sam say Jared's last name. "Paladicki?" he chuckled. "More like Pad–a–licki. Or is that Padded–dickie?" He shook his head. He'd have changed his name for sure, to something manly like... like Dean Winchester. Oh, wait!
Finally, Sam's phone rang, and Adam came on the line. "Where did you go? I need to get you guys to the green room to do the press thing and sign those autographs."
"I'm not exactly sure where we are." Sam shrugged and looked at Dean as if to ask him. "We were just grabbing coffee and donuts somewhere on the ground floor. We kind of ran to escape some fans."
"Tell him to get down here. I want to find this stupid poster and get the hell out of here," Dean grumbled. He picked up another donut and took a bite out of it while trying to work out what Sam was talking about. "Is he coming?"
Nodding, Sam relayed the message and then went to the door to peer out of it in an attempt to identify which room they were in. "Looks like A–14. That's what's on the door, dude, yeah."
Moments later, he turned back to Dean. "Yeah. He's on his way to find us. You have another donut; you must be starving."
"I am." Dean took a drink of his coffee and held a pastry out to Sam. "Have one, they're really good." He smiled. "Adam'd better get here quick."
It was only a few moments more before Adam pushed open the door to the room in which they'd been lurking and greeted them with great relief. "There you are," he said, sagging a little as he studied them. "Come on. There's a whole lot to do before the stage presentations. You have to sign the posters for prizes, and the guy from KTLA is here to interview you about the show."
"Oh, great," growled Sam, moving to follow Adam to the door. "Come on, dude, let's go sign the posters for the nice man."
"KTLwhat?" Dean blinked, then shrugged and followed Sam out. He so wanted to get this over with. This kind of hiding and pretending was not his thing. Pretending to be an FBI agent, a reporter, that he could do. Anything was easier than pretending to be these two actor guys he'd never even heard of before now.
Preparing to follow Adam through the maze of corridors, Dean really hoped to be able to sign the poster first. That way they could get it and get out before they ended up on stage in front of a legion of fans with tattoos on their asses. That would be best for everyone concerned, even if it meant that he would miss out on all the free food.
"It's a TV station," hissed Sam and frowned as Dean passed the donuts on his way to the door, hoping that he wouldn't grab yet another.
Their shepherd led them down a corridor to a set of stairs and down into an area where there seemed to be a whole bunch of people lining up. Hurrying past them, Sam kept his face averted, and they were almost past by the time he heard his first squeal and voices calling him Jared. Speeding up, he followed Adam into a small room where – thank goodness – there were a number of posters and banners.
Dean turned his head to look back at Sam, "Told you your freakish height would get us in trouble one day. How could they miss you in a crowd unless you were on your hands and knees?" He pushed into the room and stopped. "Holy shit," he hissed, looking at the array of posters bearing his face. He looked at Sam, whose face was showing much the same concern. 'How we gonna tell which it is?'
"Where's your pet angel when you want him?" Sam looked around for Castiel, but he was apparently out doing angelic things somewhere else. "Guess we're going to have to take all the posters. He did say it was a poster, didn't he?"
"He broke his leash," Dean grumbled, still looking around the room in horror. "And no," he said as he crossed the threshold, "He didn't say." Walking over to study all the different posters, he blinked as images of himself and Sam crowded his brain.
"Hey, dude, look at this one." Sam indicated a poster of his brother, lounging back and looking sultry as he sat on a stone hearth beside a statue of an angel with several desiccated bodies to one side of him. "Looks like that was quite a party you went to. Too bad you didn't keep your party hat on for the photo."
As he spoke, Sam was picking up each poster, trying to sense if there was some kind of angelic vibe being given off by it, but if there was it didn't set off his spidey senses at all. "So summon Cas. We can't steal all these things. We'll be discovered for sure."
Dean shook his head then looked at his brother. "Summon him? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't get his number, and somehow he forgot to give it to me. I don't have his myspace page either. You think it's 555–HELL?" He pulled his cell phone out as he was speaking. "Just grab them a..." He stopped as he heard a sound behind him.
The man called Adam had re–entered the room and was holding out a selection of marker pens, gold, black, silver and red. "Guys, if you just take a seat, I can bring them to you for signing one by one."
Sam let out a growl of frustration, and as he did so, Misha came into the room. Ambling over to stand behind Dean, he smirked. "Peace be with you, my child."
Dean didn't look back, "Oh, only you would think that was funny. I swear I'm gonna kick your feather cherub ass. Where the hell have you been? How are we supposed to find the right one?"
Dean looked back to him, "The poster, dingbat." Dean turned to face him, noticing immediately that something was off about Castiel.
The man didn't look quite as angelic and remote as usual, and Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs. "I don't think he's at all angelic," he growled, hoping Dean would get the message. "I think he's only... acting that way."
Meanwhile, Misha had taken a seat and begun to sign his name on all the posters. "Which poster has you all in an uproar, Jensen?" he asked Dean.
Dean gulped. He looked despairingly at Sam and then back to where Misha was signing his name and calling him Jensen. "Um, I don't know. They’re all pretty scary looking," he muttered and sat down, casting a desperate glance at Sam. This was not good.
Excusing himself for a moment, Sam headed for the door. This wasn't working. There were too many people watching for them to be able to sneak out with the poster, even if they found out which one it was. He headed for the restroom, and, once there, he grabbed a pile of paper towels, dumped them into one of the metal refuse containers and set fire to them. As smoke began to billow, he rushed back to where he had left Dean.
He was just taking his seat when the fire alarm went off.
Dean was about to protest about Sam leaving, when someone slid what was obviously the poster they were seeking to him for signature. He gazed at it in amazement and grabbed a marker to sign it. Scribbling Jensen's name upon it, he looked around to see if anyone was watching him. Sam approached just at that moment and took his seat beside him. "Dude, where did you ..." He was interrupted by the alarm going off, and he shot up and out of his chair. Before he could stake his claim on the poster, a bunch of people began rushing around in a panic, and he found himself being pushed out of the door.
He pulled away, "Wait I have to ..." He pushed around Misha, trying to get back in to get that poster. It was hopeless. He couldn't get into the room because of the people stampeding by.
The wild flurry of activity made Sam smile. "Don't panic, man. We'll be able to get back in once they think they have us all evacuated. Just give them a moment, and then we can sneak back." He had rolled up a couple of the posters near to him, including the one Dean had been signing, and as they were ushered out, he elbowed Dean again. "We really need Cas, dude. How can we get a hold of him?"
"Shout at the top of your lungs. He only shows when he wants," Dean commented, his voice low. He looked at the rolls Sam had managed to filch. "Okay, you go take those to our room. Go that way." He pointed to the service elevator. "I'll create a diversion."
He ran off after Misha and caught up to him, putting his arm around him, "Dude, is this wild or what?"
"It's completely crazy. You realize we're going to be stuck outside with all those fans?" Misha was frowning at the thought. "We may never get out alive." He gave Dean a sudden grin. "We're much too young to die. What are we going to do?"
Dean looked back at him with an answering smile. "Out with those nutjobs? I'm way too pretty to die." Well technically he'd already died twice, but that wasn't something he was going to go into with Misha. He looked at Misha then grabbed hold of his shoulder. "You're right; we can't go out there. Let's go this way." He began pulling Misha down one of the hallways towards a side door. "Over here." They ran for the exit, and all Dean could do was hope Sam was making his way out away from the fire.
Sam, of course, knew that the fire wasn't serious. He had raced to their room and dumped the posters, and now he was circling the staff corridors, trying to remain unseen, until he could get into the room where the rest of them were, because he wasn’t aware of the fact that he’d already got the one they were seeking safely stashed in their suite. Finally creeping in through the door that the waitstaff used, he swiftly grabbed the rest of the posters and fled back the way that they had come, just as the fire department arrived.
Meanwhile, Dean got Misha outside and paused to look around. He thought he'd spotted Sam and ran up to him. "Dude, where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you."
"I was in the room; where do you think?" Jared Padalecki gave the man he believed to be his co–star a beaming smile. "Was about to get in the shower when the alarm went off." He indicated the hotel and the firemen. "Do you suppose it'll burn down? Dude, it would serve them right for giving our rooms to someone else."
Dean frowned. "You were gonna take a shower? At a time like this? My god, you are a geek." Pausing, distracted, he scanned the area, hoping to avoid being spotted by any of the fans. "Only guy I know who wants to be clean..." The terrible truth dawned on him, and he stopped, realizing that this guy wasn't his brother.
"Dude, if you're going to start whining about Misha again, I'm going to go find someone else to play with." Jared gave Dean a gentle punch to the shoulder. "He just likes water. He said he was sorry for using all your bubble bath, so just forget it." He looked at his watch and frowned. "I hope we can go back in soon. I feel kind of exposed here."
"Huh?" Dean rocked from the punch. "Um, yeah, well, I was hoping to enjoy that bubble bath." He was still looking around furtively. "I need a drink," he mumbled.
"I've still got some of your wheat grass juice in my room." The lanky actor gave Dean a pleased grin and waited for Dean to be grateful. "Wanna come and get it?" He put his arm around Dean and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Would make sense for you to come on up so we can go over our story for the fangirls tomorrow. We need to do a little obfuscation, because someone saw us down in that bar in Oregon."
Dean looked at Jared as if he was insane, "What?! Wheat grass juice." He felt like he wanted to die, "Just kill me now," he grumbled. He stopped as the next part of Jared's utterance went in. "They what? They did?" He gaped up at the guy.
"They did." Jared smirked. "Told you we should've grown beards first. Some woman took photos of us when we were in the rough on the golf course. I honestly thought that nobody could see us, but it looks like we've been outed on YouTube." He threw his arm around Dean's shoulders. "So come and drink your evil health drink and help me get a story together. You know they're gonna ask us when we get on stage."
"You and me?" Dean moved his finger between them as he was crushed by the taller man. He walked along beside Jared, dreading the drink he'd been promised rather than the talk. "Dude, can't we just tell them we fell into each other? I was checking your head ‘cause you got hit by a golf ball?" He paused. "We play golf? What a pussy game."
"Hey, I keep on telling you that!" Jared frowned. "The getting hit by a golf ball story would've been fine, but she followed us to that bar afterwards, and if you remember, you had one scotch too many and sang, "I will always love you," and then sat on my lap and...." He broke off and looked at the man he thought was Jensen, with a frown. "You don't remember it, do you? You were completely stoned, weren't you?"
An out! Perfect. Dean gave a guilty look, "Well, yeah, I was. I just remember singing." He pushed Jared into the elevator, letting him hit the button. He scratched at his beard wishing he could shave the thing off. "How could we be so sloppy?" Dean played along, because it felt like his only possible option. "It's all your fault. If you weren't so freakishly tall."
"Hey! You were the aggressor, Jensen Ackles! I was sitting there minding my own business. You're the one that suddenly decided to straddle me and shove your tongue down my throat while you rubbed one off on me." Jared was grinning as he spoke. "I don't think it would've hurt to wait 'til we got back to the motel."
Dean blinked at him, because even HE wasn't that brave. He shrugged, "Well maybe from your point of view, of course. Like I said, I don't remember." The elevator dinged at them and as the doors opened they headed for Jared's room. He wondered what Sam was going through and wondered if he should try and call him. Where was his brother?
In the suite that had been allocated to Jensen and Jared, things looked remarkably similar to the one Sam and he had been given. There was a laptop on the desk, and the clothing that had been scattered around was all casual. Jared went to the mini bar and retrieved a bottle of greeny brown liquid. "Here, dude. Do me a favor and drink that. It gives me the heebie–jeebies just looking at it, and if it's gonna make you fit and cure your hangover for you then go for it."
Dean looked at the bottle with revulsion, the look on his face asking if he really had to. Taking a deep breath, he opened it up, and the smell just about knocked him over. He forced a smile, "Down the hatch!" Making a face, he tipped the bottle back and allowed the disgusting mix to slip down his throat. He chugged it just to get it over with, fighting to keep from making a face as it went down. Somehow he felt that drinking it was the bravest thing he'd ever done.
"Seriously, Jen, I think you need to quit with the health kick and just lay off the single malt for a while. That'll make your liver thank you. You could start working out with me in the morning too." Jared had a huge smile on his face as he spoke. "So, what are we gonna tell the fans? You think we should just bite the bullet and come out?"
Dean so wanted a beer. He moved and sat down, shoving clothing aside and pulling his phone out so he could text Sam. "Dude, I've seen the error of my ways. I promise I won't ever drink that stuff again." As it was, he didn't think he would ever be able to get the taste out of his mouth. "I did it on purpose," Dean was a little distracted because he was in the act of texting Sam to ask where the hell he was. "I did it just to show them that not everything they see is true." He hoped that was good enough.
"Huh?" Jared frowned, scratching his head. "But it is true." He reached for Dean's hand. "Are you breaking up with me? Who are you texting? It's Misha, isn't it? You're gonna leave me for Misha." His eyes filled with tears. "Don't leave me, Jen. Please don't."
Dean's phone beeped. Get me out of here, was the message from Sam. This idiot thinks I'm Jared.
Dean fought the urge to jerk his hand away. He sneaked a look at his phone, grinning savagely at Sam's message to him. He typed in HELP in response. Glancing up at Jared, he was about to say something when he spotted the tears, and just like with Sam, he couldn't fight them. Bastard! "No, I'm not. It's my mom." The lie spilled out unbidden, but seemed to be acceptable. He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm not leaving you for him. I'm not leaving you at all."
The smile on Jared's face was wider than any that Dean had seen on Sam since he'd hit puberty. Sam laughed and smiled, sure enough, but there was always that remoteness in him. Not so, Jared. The tall lookalike flung himself onto Dean and pressed a kiss onto his mouth, making Dean gasp. "You're not? Oh, thank God," he whispered and buried his face into Dean's neck.
Dean let out a faint keening sound. He fell back, dropping his phone as his mouth was suddenly covered, and he found himself kissing the other man. He held Jared to him as his fingers reached desperately for his phone. "I would be insane if I did," he slurred around the other man's lips.
"So do you want to come out?" Jared dropped to his knees at Dean's side and put his arms around the hunter's waist. "Just tell the fans that they were right all along, and you and I are gonna live happily ever after?" He gave Dean a smoldering look. "They'll go nuts, but it'll stop them from hitting on us, I bet."
The phone beeped again. This time, Sam had written, These two are together. Be really careful if you meet either of them.
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's message. Tell me something I don't know, he thought. He looked at Jared with a smirk. "Are you kidding me? It would make things even worse. 'Cause then they will want to try change us." He quickly texted Sam back, No shit. He peered at Jared, trying to gauge his level of commitment to the relationship. "Look, let's just keep it to ourselves. Tell them it was our doubles, okay? Last thing we need is them hounding us and trying to catch us. Bad enough they do it now." He ran his hand over Jared's hair, then pushed himself up to his feet. "I'll be back, okay?" He made for the door. "I'll be back in a few."