Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So way a long time ago in robanybody's journal, [there was a picture posted of Jared in a school uniform] from the apparently awful movie Cry Wolf, and naturally discussion veered toward a High School AU. Max and estrella30 and I were convinced that winterlive should write the thing, since, you know, she's good at what she does. But somehow in comments she and I ended up trading bits of things, and... well... she kind of conned me into comment-porning her. So this is me just collecting those bits in one place and continuing it.

highschoolery, a jsquared high school au

Danny wrote this:
omg my high school au jenny is such a wicked flirt, i can feel him already.

and then I wrote this:
I'd manage the track team just to get close to him, yes I would.

and she replied:
there's rumors all over school that he's gay - it's pretty accepted, even though nobody's ever asked him about it, because he barely dates - but oddly enough, he rarely gets hassled by the guys for it. you would think, because he's a cheerleader and presumably gay and it's fucking texas, hello. but nothing. it's just weird.

little does everyone know that after practice, he stands around with the guys from the team smoking outside the gym, telling everyone about what the girls gossip about in the locker room - who likes who, who's done what, who WILL do what, and who they did it with. they all think he's gay, so they don't censor. and the football team reaps the benefits, and thinks he's straight as an arrow.

nobody really knows for sure.

and I wrote:
Nobody except Jared, who is about five degrees of too tall, going through that awkward phase where he's taller than he feels. *He* only knows because Jensen likes to smoke in the middle of the day, when his PE class is out on the track. He has to go sit on the bleachers and massage his Achilles tendon, which he sprained while showing off doing sprints, so he goes over and he can see two people through the slats of the bleachers. They kind of break everything off as he approaches and one of them hurries away, tugging at his -- it's a guy, he can tell -- zipper as he goes.

The other one is this *really* cute guy, a couple inches shorter than he is, who's unapologetically pulling a pack of Camels out of his jeans and flicking his lighter. Jared kind of doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything.

Danny:
The guy's smoking under the bleachers, and Jared keeps peering through, sort of surreptitiously, trying to sneak glances at him. And it goes on for about ten full minutes before he realizes that the guy is staring right at him.

moi:
And the guy is *obviously* not a freshman if he's got a free period. But then, he does look like the kind of guy who'd cut class to smoke and not get yelled at for it. Jared's conflicted, because he wants to find out what's up with this guy but he's afraid the first words out of his mouth would be something really, really dirty. Finally he just says "yeah?" and the guy pulls the cigarette from his lips as his mouth curls sideways.

Danny:
so there's jared and he totally saw what he thought he saw, and he's freaking out. jen's in so good with the footballers, he can't get on jen's bad side or he's fucking toast at this school, he might as well not even go. and he's terrified about what jensen might ask, and so he should be, so he gets down off the bleachers and boots it into the school, hoping he can avoid.

that works. for a day.

me again:
And then he has the same damn problem the next day, when he's got gym, same time, same place, same stupid exercises. And his calves are still hurting because they don't heal overnight, especially not with the sprinting into the building he did to get away from Jensen the previous day. So he's got to do his stretches and go sit on the bleachers again, and he's a little worried he might see Jensen again.

Which, of course, he does. But since he heads over earlier in the period, he catches a snatch of conversation as he's walking over there; the other guy is all worried about Jared walking over, but Jensen soothes him with a "nah, dude, he just wants to watch," and boy howdy does Jared respond to that.

Jared is still going over to the bleachers, because he kind of has to -- that's what you do when you can't run laps, and his calves hurt *way* too much to do that. And, you know, he's kind of... no, he's *really* intrigued about what's going on. Intrigued and, er, *excited*.

He gets closer and he can see the outlines of the two guys through the slats of the bleachers and his dick is saying "HELLO!" but he's still not saying anything. One of the guys is clutching at the metal supports at the back of the bleachers and one guy is crouched down around waist-height, his face practically *in* the other guy's pants.

Time seems to slow down as he approaches the bleachers. You know, how there are things you shouldn't watch, but they're like a trainwreck and you can't look away? This is kind of like that, only instead of horriffic, it's really... hot. The guy who's standing up almost can't stay that way; his knees are quivering a little and Jared hears the light scrape of flesh on steel when the guy's hands tighten around the supports, trying to hold himself upright.

Jensen pulls back, lazy, but his eyes flick in Jared's direction as he swallows.

The other guy gets back to a place where he can, you know, *breathe*, and heads back shakily toward the building, zipping his fly like the other guy did yesterday. Yesterday's guy was tall and dark-haired, with huge guns, and today's guy is a little shorter, and bald, and he slides sunglasses on his face even though it's overcast. Jared thinks he's seen him somewhere before, because hello, not many bald guys in high school, but he can't place it.

Jared finally makes it to the bleachers and plunks himself down, stretching out his right leg and working it with his hands, very carefully *not* saying anything to Jensen. He can feel eyes on him, though, and eventually he stops pretending not to care and just looks over through the slats at the guy who's leaning and smoking and generally doing fuck all.

"What?" Jensen asks, between drags. "You want in, too?" His voice is a little lower than it looks like it should be, and a little raspier than it would be without the Marlboro Man, but it's his nonchalance about blowjobs that's got Jared completely hooked.

There are about four seconds during which Jared considers playing the naïve card, but he gives up when he realizes Jensen's probably been playing it all his life. Plus, Jared's about six inches too tall to play it reliably -- it works on some people and doesn't on others, and he's virtually certain it won't work on Jensen. "Didn't realize you were giving out engraved invitations."

"Yeah, well, don't flatter yourself." He puffs on his cigarette. "You always this nosy?"

"Didn't know this bleacher was off-limits." Jared reaches out and grabs the toe of his shoe, stretching his foot up toward his shin and trying to tune out the anguished cry of his calf muscle.

"You *must* be a freshman. Jezus." Jensen's eyeroll is just as offhand as his tone. "I'm a transfer and even *I* knew about the BJ Bench." He takes another drag. "And how to use it."

Jared's attention is riveted to the cigarette, to what Jensen's lips do around it. "What do I have to, uh." He falters, completely unsure of how to even phrase the question. He's lightheaded from the continuous downward rush of blood, yet he's sure his face is a deep beet red.

Jensen's smirk grows to colossal proportions. "Whatever, cowboy. You know you want it. Just ask." Again with the lips.

"You taunt everybody this way?"

"Just the ones I can freak out without doing much." His laugh is smoky and a little forceful, like a punch to the gut. He flicks ash from the tip of his cigarette with a practiced thumb and Jared comes to a decision.

"Blow me." His chin sticks out just a little and he's surprised at his own voice; he sounds like sex.

Jensen looks him up and down, then nods. "When?"

"Right now, braniac; I only have ten minutes left in the period."

So that's how Jared finds himself up behind the bleachers, arms practically wrapped around the metal crosspieces to hold himself up, alternating between staring and the short hair and red lips around his dick and flicking his head skyward in pre-orgasmic ecstasy. He comes almost embarassingly early, but Jensen doesn't say anything, just tucks his dick back in his gym shorts and breaks out another cigarette. Jensen's lips are glossy and a little swollen, and it's the hottest fucking thing Jared has ever seen in his entire life.

It's also how he finds himself walking back to the locker room with his mind still behind the bleachers.

The next day, he makes the stupidest mistake of his life: he tries to ask Jensen out.