Chapter 7: Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead (J2, NC-17)

[lucifersprize]

Fic title: Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead
Artist name: amberdreams
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: past domestic abuse, sexual language, non explicit sex, cussing, Chad

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***

Saturday morning was dedicated to paperwork and accounts. The Spendlethift debacle was still fresh in Jared’s mind so he resolved to put all thoughts of Jensen, Christian and even faeries out of his mind until his last piece of paper was filed and his books were balanced.  Jensen had kept his word and the first week’s invoice had already been paid. Once Jared had settled all of his outgoings he was marginally in the black for the first time in several months. It felt good.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Chad was out at the Ackles place so he would work on planting schedules, invite bids on specialist services and then get ready for his date with Christian. Should it be called a date? Could dinner at a classy club really be defined as a one night stand? Technically he didn’t date. If it was a date, then why not date Jensen? If it was a one night stand, did it mean that Jensen was on the table for a one night stand too? Yes, Jensen was his client but Christian was acting as his client’s foreman so surely that was double standards. 

“Aagh!” he yelled aloud as he relaxed his muscles. His love life generally consisted of a casual hook up and sneaking out on a stranger at 5 a.m. How was it getting so out of control? Jensen Ackles, his mind unhelpfully supplied. Not once did he consider that his mysterious faerie wife might not exist. He had examined the possibility that his mother had invented a faerie, in great depth, since his teen years but her story about a faerie deal had never changed and Jared hadn’t come up with a reasonable alternative theory. He’d spent his entire life avoiding faerie rings and faerie ephemera to escape his uncertain fate but now he wondered if it would be better to get it over and done with. Maybe his faerie had decided he was too big or too ugly and didn’t want him any more. It was all so complicated.

***

His Uber dropped him off at five to eight. He straightened his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. There was no sign of Christian outside the venue, so he waited in the glow of its neon sign. The entrance to the Hawthorn Tree jostled with hopefuls waiting for entry. Ladies with barely-there designer dresses tittered and flirted with two burly bouncers. Men in expensive shades and carefully ripped jeans peered over and into the crowd, looking for any progress in the slow line. Jared chewed his lip and looked mournfully at the outfit he had gleefully purchased pre-worn from eBay a year earlier. Sure, it had the tags but it was seasons out-of-date. It didn’t help that his shoulders and biceps barely squeezed into the fabric of his top. It was uncomfortable and while he had shaved, his hair was already windswept and oh god - was lip-gloss de-rigueur for men these days? Because a lot of them seemed to be wearing it. Chad had nagged him to get out more but the business had been struggling and his  one-bed apartment with it’s huge couch and south facing balcony was perfect to crash out, drink beer, play games and sleep. Real life was passing him by.

One of the bouncers uncoupled the entry chain and slipped through towards him, as if to greet somebody. Jared looked at the taxi-line that slowed at the curb, wondering if he would see a celebrity. He didn’t recognise anybody.

“Mr. Padalecki, sir?”

He was startled at the bouncer’s close presence, he had at least three inches height on him and his impressive breadth was packed with muscles. Was he blocking an entrance? The sidewalk? “I should move. I’m in the way aren’t I?”

“Mr Padalecki, my name is Pip.” He pointed to a name tag pinned to his lapel - ‘P. Peppertwist’. His poker face invited no comment on his name.

“Mr. Kane asked me to greet you.” He showed him a text with a photo of himself in sweaty bandana, clearly taken while he was working on the Ackles property. Christian had not asked permission to take the unflattering snap and it made him uncomfortable.

Pip continued, “He is running a little late. Step this way.”

Now Jared noticed the curious looks from the line of hopefuls. He colored up in embarrassment, everyone was staring.

“Mr. Kane? Oh, right, yes, Christian. I er, I’m fine. I can wait.”

“Of course, your table is ready and you should wait in comfort. Champagne is on ice. Follow me.”

“Right.”

Jared just avoided falling on his face as he tripped on the first step into the venue. Could he get any more obvious? Pip thankfully remained poker faced. He concentrated on keeping the bouncer in sight and staying upright as he pushed through the crowd to follow him up a circular wooden staircase. It sparkled with fairy lights and small lanterns and opened out into a plushly carpeted balcony with cocktail bar and four dining tables. It had an unobstructed view of the stage below. Pip nodded greetings to a similarly uniformed man who unclipped another chain to give entry. Okay then, it was the VIP area . He looked around in awe, he was way out of his league. Branches from the tree staircase extended across the low ceiling, giving the impression of a woodland glade and each table was decorated with wreaths of flowers to reflect the theme. It was beautiful and Jared would have appreciated it if the glamorous couples at the other tables hadn’t turned to stare as he was seated alone.

A tiny, efficient waitress who introduced herself as Genevieve proceeded to cluck about him, offering a glass of Dom Perignon and a plate of tiny seafood hor d’oeuvres. He had never felt so visible and while the little lobster pastry he first bit into was absolutely delicious, he could feel the crumbs stick to his lips and shed onto his clothes. He put it down abruptly and picked up his glass. His sip seemed more like a gulp and a drip settled on the crease of his mouth. He used his napkin, missed the table and dropped it on the floor. Genevieve appeared from nowhere to pick it up and provide a fresh one. Roadies finished setting up the stage below and a man in jeans and a luminescent pink top appeared for a sound test. “123 Testing, 123.”

Where the hell was Christian? Was this a cruel prank?  

His phone pinged and his heart sank into his stomach, it was a text from Christian, *Hey, had a job come up last minute. Thought I’d make it but I’m still here. Don’t waste the reservation, am arranging company for you.*

He felt sick, like everybody in the club could see he’d been stood up. And who did Christian think he was? Did he think Jared was some sort of gigolo he could pass off to one of his friends? He wanted to storm out but he was frozen to his seat in anxiety, not knowing if security would detain him unless he paid the check or signed something. Then he would have to walk out alone, down stairs, on jelly-legs and close to tears. It was a mess, he was a mess . He picked up the generous sized menu and hid his face, pretending to read it.

A hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed, gently, “Hey.”

Jared jumped and dropped the menu to the table, he didn’t have to turn to check out who it was because Jensen goddamn Ackles was already leaning into his view with his most charming smile, and his cologne smelt distractingly good.

“I told you he’s a dick. I love my brother, Jared, but he’s a dick. How are you?”

Jared wiped his hand over his damp eyes and swallowed back tears of relief. “I didn’t see you come up the stairs.I didn’t know you were back.”

“I caught the red-eye from Vegas last night.” Jensen gestured to a staff door behind the bar, “And I didn’t take the guest stairs. Full disclosure: Our cousin owns this place, it’s how Christian got the reservation.” He picked up one of the pastries and popped it into his mouth whole, “Oh, my god I love these,” he said enthusiastically, with his mouth full, and crumbs sprayed onto the table. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite Jared. “Holy Cow, Jared, you look hot! That shirt fits, absolutely perfectly!” He pretended to fan himself, “Chris’s loss,” then he picked up something that looked like shrimp toast and offered it to him, “You’ve got to try this, it’s buttered chilli shrimp. I mean it makes an unbelievable mess but it's amazing.”

Jared finally found his voice and tentatively accepted it from him, “Yeah, I dropped pastry everywhere earlier.”

“Everyone does it. That’s what it’s all about, dude.” Jensen lowered his voice so only Jared would hear him, “I think a good proportion of the clientele get food on their clothes deliberately.” He mimed actions to his next words, “Oh dear! Oh my! I must remove my ruined top. Woe is me, I have to display my body on the dance floor while this person grinds against me!”

He grinned at Jared and for the first time that evening Jared felt himself unwinding. He grinned back at him and bit into the shrimp. It was divine and it was suddenly unimportant if butter dripped down his chin. “It’s good,” he agreed.

“So, I’m the stand in. Who is the band? Are you okay with me being the understudy? I mean obviously not for the sex part, you already made that clear.” Jensen was nonchalant as he finished off the hors d’oeuvres.

Jared looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Um, band. I don’t know. He told you everything?”

“Did you tell Chad?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Bros and buddies, dude.”

“You’re cool with this?”

“If you are. I love food. I like you a lot. What’s not to be cool with? I mean, I thought you were promised or something so it's weird, but sure, hanging out with you is no hardship. Look at you!” He licked his lips and Jared stared. He continued, “Everyone will be gossiping.”

Jared shook himself from his haze in a panic, “What if I don’t want anyone to gossip? It was supposed to be dinner and a roll in the hay, not some PR stunt.”

“A roll in the hay?” Jensen looked unreasonably hurt. “With Christian! He wasn’t exaggerating? You actually planned that?”

“I don’t date so if he thought it was more, he was wrong.”

“Because your family has already arranged your marriage to a stranger?”

Jared nodded, he was finally making some headway.

“And you don’t have a problem with that?”

“A promise is a promise and I can’t hate somebody I don’t know. Maybe I will have a problem with it, but why borrow trouble?” Jared quoted one of his mother’s favorite sayings.

The strained chords of a dance number began and the band introduced themselves. Jensen grimaced. “You’re into Pity Chick?”

Jared grimaced back at him, “No,” but the words were lost in a blast of music.

Jensen leaned towards him and shouted, "Do you like burgers?"

“Yes,” nodded Jared.

“Let’s get out of here.” Jensen lifted his hand and Genevieve was by their side in a moment. He asked for the check and she pointed to the barman. There was some unspoken conversation and they were waved away. He grabbed the bottle of Dom Perignon from it’s clinking ice bath and waved it at Jared, “Shall we take it with us?”

Jared shook his head, it was just sweet enough for his taste, and a glass with a meal would be great, but he didn’t like to drink much. He knew where that led.

“Nah. I bet the staff would love to finish it off,” he replied.

“Ah, of course,” Jensen dropped it back, so hard that a shard of ice broke off and shot through the air, briefly reflecting a shimmering rainbow of twinkling light.

Like faerie wings, thought Jared but he shook the thought off. He was probably being a douche, champagne like that had to be expensive.

It was dark on the street when they stumbled out of the Hawthorn Tree but the sidewalk remained busy and the air warm. “Al’s Fries,” suggested Jensen.

“Definitely!”

“Have you ever had their…,” they spoke together, and spent the cab ride comparing notes on burgers, hot dogs and fries.

***

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