Jensen is not a judgmental guy. No, really, he’s not.
His best friend, Danneel, says that he’s “emotionally stunted from drinking too much coffee as a child,” but that’s completely ridiculous. Jensen knows this because he checked the American Journal of Medicine the first time she said it to him when they were twelve.
So Jensen is not being judgmental at all when he says that his neighbor is a gigantic dick.
It starts a few months prior when Jensen is just getting home from a six week assignment in South America. He arrives back to his apartment, lugging suitcases and camera bags, exhausted and sunburned and knowing that he has about ten trillion more goddamn stupid freckles then when he left. Jensen’s a travel writer, so traveling is part of his job, and he’s damn good at it, but the best part of his job is when he gets to go back to his nice, cozy, peaceful apartment and spend the following two or three months putting his adventures down into his laptop in a manner that will make housewives from Michigan and co-eds from Texas think they want to explore the Brazilian rainforest.
Jensen drops down onto his couch, scratching absently at the mosquito bites that seem to line half the skin on his body because Avon Skin-So-Soft does not stop bugs like his Mama told him it would and instead just made him smell like a fucking flower garden. Next time he’s covering himself in DEET like a burly, smelly man, thank you very much.
He’s contemplating ways to reassert his masculinity, if only in his mind, when he hears the thumping coming from the apartment above.
“What the actual fuck?” Jensen says to the ceiling.
The ceiling answers him back with an angry “whomp, whomp.”
Jensen takes a moment to think hard through his jetlag, remembering that a new guy had just moved in to the apartment above a few weeks before he left for his trip.
Oh yeah, that guy.
Big, long, tan, dimpled, messy-haired, Texas-drawling hunk of gorgeous guy.
Jensen is just starting to daydream about the glorious things he could do with said gorgeous guy when the ceiling starts protesting again and Jensen nearly bites his tongue off in surprise.
Jensen decides right then that he hates the guy, dimples or no dimples.
Of course, logic would dictate that Jensen go upstairs and ask the new guy to please stop whatever the fuck he is doing and, maybe, you know, come downstairs and count his bug bites, but Jensen is way too annoyed and tired to do that, so instead he pulls a couch pillow over his head and promptly passes out.
A month into it and Jensen doesn’t quite know what to do anymore, so he calls Danneel.
“I think he’s making snuff films upstairs. Like, or at least killing kittens. Oh shit, what if he’s Dexter? Does that make me Deb? I don’t think I’m skinny enough to pull off being Deb. Maybe if I use enough bronzer I can be La Guerta.”
“You’re an idiot,” Danneel replies.
“Have you gone upstairs and said to the guy, ‘hey, guy, you need to stop making so much noise during the day because I’m supposed to be writing an awesome book about South America so I can earn my commission and take my gorgeous best friend out to that hot new restaurant that she’s been bitching about for the last two weeks’?” Danneel asks.
Danneel thinks she’s so smart. “I left him a note.”
“A note?” Danneel echoes, skepticism in every syllable.
“Yes, a note. If he’s really Dexter then I don’t want to get in his face and chance him stabbing me,” Jensen points out.
Danneel sighs in her most exasperated fashion. Jensen has hated that sigh since the first time she used it on him when he insisted freshman year that he was completely heterosexual and just didn’t date because he didn’t like hot blonde cheerleaders.
“What did the note say?”
“It was a good note,” Jensen mumbles. He thinks back to the week before, when he slipped the neatly written piece of paper into the guy’s mailbox one evening. He had been just trying to sneak back upstairs when the guy came in and found it.
“Stop killing kittens. Some of us have to work,” the guy had read aloud, holding the paper with a perplexed expression.
Jensen tries not to remember how adorable the guy had looked while confused. Asshole.
Danneel’s peals of mocking laughter bring him back to the present and Jensen glares at his phone.
“You are such a passive aggressive little shithead,” she cackles.
“I have tons of aggression! You just wait,” Jensen growls and wishes he had an old rotary phone so that hanging up on her would be more satisfying than just pressing the end button.
“Go get him, cowboy!” Danneel wheezes, and hangs up on him first. Rude!
Jensen flops down on his couch and pouts. He’s alone though, so it’s not quite as aggressive as he hopes.
Since Danneel is useless, Jensen decides to check with his other neighbors. Maybe if he can get them together as a neighborhood-watch-type coalition, they can force the kitten killer to shut the fuck up.
He knocks one evening on the door of the guys across the hall, Adam and Blake. He doesn’t talk to them much, but at least they don’t keep him from earning a living, so bonus points to them.
Four knocks into it and he’s about to give up, before Adam opens the door. He leans against the frame lazily, wearing nothing but boxers and tattoos. His hair is standing up with an aggression that Jensen envies.
“Um, hey Adam.”
“Jensen,” Adam smirks, which is pretty much his default facial expression.
“So,” Jensen starts, suddenly realizing that his plan is kind of dumb. “Do you know that Pada-whatever guy that moved in upstairs?”
Adam’s eyebrow wiggles and Jensen wonders how he can make it do that so effortlessly.
“Jensen, take a good look at me.” He motions down the length of his body and Jensen follows with his eyes.
“You are very, um, lanky?” Jensen offers, shaking his fist in what he hopes is an encouraging manner.
Adam rolls his eyes. “What part of all this,” he gestures again. “Makes you think that I would be the ideal matchmaker for your sweet gay loving?”
Jensen sputters. Sweet, gay, what now?
“I mean, this,” gesture, gesture. “Is for making hot sweaty love with long-legged blonde supermodels. Like, daily.”
A loud snort comes from inside the apartment, and Jensen hopes that it’s Blake, or else Adam’s long-legged blonde supermodels need to lay off the testosterone shots.
“Hillbilly!” Adam shouts over his shoulder.
“Prostitute!” comes the reply.
Definitely Blake then.
“I take it you don’t want to join my neighbor watch group then, huh?” Jensen deadpans.
“Do you have weed?” Adam asks in return and Jensen sighs before heading back across the hall.
One day, Jensen is positive that they are having an honest-to-god orgy upstairs, so he decides to bust out the big guns: Katie Cassidy.
Katie is, well, insane. So when Jensen calls her up and begs her to come over immediately to help him get back at his evil, kitten-killing neighbor by pretending to have loud, obnoxious sex with him, her instant response is “fuck yeah!”
Which is how it comes to pass that 5’7” of hot blonde is standing on his couch yelling “Oh, Jensen, fuck me hard with that big juicy cock!” at 2:15 in the afternoon.
“Juicy?” Jensen mouths back to her, shuddering slightly.
Katie winks and starts moaning again. “Gimme that come, Jensen! Come on my face, on my face dammit!”
The noise upstairs stops abruptly and there’s a sudden knock on his door.
Jensen pulls it open warily and the wrong neighbor pushes his way through and right to the hot blonde on the couch.
“Hi, I’m Adam. “Cue eyebrow wiggle as Katie giggles.
Jensen sighs. At least the orgy stopped.
There’s one night when Jensen’s worst fear comes to fruition.
Pada-whatever comes into the lobby just as Jensen is coming back from grocery shopping. When he sees Jensen, he gets this big, stupid, dimpled grin on his face and shakes his long, stupid, fluffy hair like a Pantene commercial. Jensen doesn’t quite understand how someone who kills kittens every day can be so goddamn cute. Lies and sorcery is the obvious answer.
“Hey, can I help you with those?” Pada-whatever says, reaching for one of Jensen’s bags.
Jensen jerks his arms back instinctually. What if kitten-killing extends to stealing his expensive French Roast? Jensen can put up with a lot of things, but stealing his good coffee is the final straw.
Pada-whatever makes a confused face and Jensen kind of wants to lick him. As a defense mechanism, of course.
“So,” Pada-whatever clears his throat and looks down at his sneakers. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself since I moved in, but I’ve been crazy busy.”
Jensen snorts at that. Crazy busy, his ass. Killing kittens and having orgies.
Pada-whatever swallows audibly. “Well then, okay. I’m Jared. You’re Jensen, right?”
Jensen eyes him suspiciously. Could this be his final warning that Pada-Dexter is coming after him next? Oh god, he’s too young to die!
Jensen does the sensible thing and runs up the stairs as fast as he can. When he gets into his apartment, he slams the door shut and tries to forget about how hurt Pada…Jared looked before Jensen ran.
Jensen’s friend Rosey comes up with the final plan to give Jared a taste of his own medicine: party like it’s New Years in the middle of the week.
Jared’s apartment is silent as a church at night, so Jensen assumes that’s when he rests from all the orgies. Fighting back during the day didn’t seem to work, since after Katie left to have sweaty sex with Adam, the noises started right back again. Rosey’s plan, for once in the entire time Jensen has known him, seems ideal.
It’s a Wednesday night in Spring when Jensen winds up with forty people that he barely knows (and some he doesn’t know at all) squeezing into his one-bedroom.
Rosey and Tommy are shirtless and doing beer pong on his coffee table. Adam is humping Katie on top of the recliner Jensen got from his parents. Danneel and Blake are singing Spice Girls karaoke, as Misha passes around tequila shots and Sandy presents her cleavage as a salt receptacle.
Jensen is just drunk enough not to be annoyed, and is quite pleased with how fucking loud everyone is. That’ll teach that adorable fucking bastard….
…who is now standing in Jensen’s open doorway looking at the mass chaos with a stunned expression on his face.
“What the hell?” Jared blurts out, eyes all big and soft and hazel and pretty. Fucking fucker.
“Ha!” Jensen hollers, bravely stumbling a little closer to get into Jared’s face. “You are finally getting a taste of your own medicine.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jared demands.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, kitten killer!” Jensen yells back, and damn, maybe it’s not the best choice to insult Dexter to his face.
“Kitten…holy shit, did you leave that weirdo message in my mailbox?” Jared asks, looking horrified.
Jensen looks a little chastised at that one. Maybe that note was a little harsh. “Um, maybe?”
Jared looks hurt for a half a second, before schooling his face into a blank expression. “Look, dude, I have no idea what your damage is, but I have a major final tomorrow and I have to study. Can you please turn down the volume on your little party?”
Jensen gasps. Kitten Killer has some audacity, that’s for sure. “After all the noise you’ve subjected me to for the past two months? Every fucking day with your goddamn orgies and murders and who knows what the hell else when I’m trying to write and make a living?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about, you asshole. Every single day, the thumping and the screaming and the moaning and the weird cranking noise that is just really fucking annoying,” Jensen growls. Okay, fuck passive aggression now, Jensen is just drunk enough to fist-fight Jared if that’s what it’ll take for the dude to shut up already. Not that Jensen gets into a lot of fist-fights. Or any, ever. But still, dammit!
Jared blanches completely white, and it’s sudden enough that Jensen loses some of his healthy rage.
“Oh, my god,” Jared mumbles. “Fucking Chad.”
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Jensen barks, figuring that Jared can’t kill him in front of forty witnesses, even if they are drunk and horny ones.
Jared swallows again, and Jensen’s eyes are drawn against his will to the long, tan length of his neck.
“I just found out yesterday that my best…former best friend Chad made a copy of my apartment key and has been squatting there during the day,” Jared says, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t know what he was doing before, but I guess I have some idea now, huh?”
Jensen stands there dumbfounded, vision a little hazy from the tequila. Out of all the scenarios that he contemplated, Jared’s criminal best friend causing all the problems was not one of them. Not that Jensen actually contemplated any scenarios beyond “Jared is a serial killer”, but still.
“Oh,” Jensen says.
“Oh,” Jared echoes.
Danneel and Blake singing Sonny and Cher fills the silence as they stand there staring at each other stupidly.
“So, you don’t really kill kittens?” Jensen offers, smiling weakly.
Jared rolls his eyes. “I am a dog person, but no, I don’t kill kittens.”
Jensen clears his throat, figuring this was repentance time. “I’m Jensen. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Jared stares at Jensen’s hand, which he has thrust out in a show of good faith. Finally, after the longest three seconds of Jensen’s life, Jared reaches out and presses their palms together.
“Hi, Jensen. I’m Jared, your new neighbor.”
Jared aces his last final the next day, even with all the distraction, and Jensen spends the entire day making dishes he learned in Peru to help him celebrate that night. Because now that Jensen knows Jared is not a kitten killer, Jared’s suddenly become the ridiculously hot upstairs neighbor that Jensen needs to woo his way into sex with.
Jared shows up at Jensen’s door holding a six pack and grinning like a mad man, so Jensen pulls him inside and pushes him down on the couch as he goes and finishes dinner.
“Pre-med, huh? Do you know what you want to do yet when you’re done?” Jensen asks him later, spooning a creamy bit of Suspiro a la Limeña into his mouth as they sprawl across the couch.
Jared stares at Jensen’s mouth as he licks his lips delicately, and that is a very, very good sign.
“Yeah, I’m actually starting my Doctorate in Veterinary medicine next year,” Jared clears his throat and Jensen just barely resists smirking.
“So I was really off with the kitten killing, huh?” Jensen flinches a bit. Maybe that was a little silly to assume, even if the ceiling did tell him otherwise.
Jared snorts. “Yeah, just a little off.”
Jensen leans over just a little bit, licking his spoon clean for effect. “Is there any way you can forgive me for being such an asshole to you?”
Jared shifts closer. “I think you need to make it up to me. For defaming my character and all.”
“That was really mean of me,” Jensen breathes, the spoon falling aimlessly to the floor as he somehow ends up straddling Jared’s lap.
Gee, how did that happen?
“Really fucking mean,” Jared murmurs, wrapping one big hand around Jensen’s neck and bringing their lips together for the first time.
Jensen moans into his mouth as Jared opens to him and slips his tongue inside. Two months of misinformed hatred is the absolute best foreplay it seems, as Jensen slides his hands into Jared’s silly mass of hair and yanks them deeper into each other.
Jared’s hands slide down the length of Jensen’s body, fingers pressing into random spots as they explore greedily. Jensen feels him yanking at his waist-line and slides up just enough for Jared to get his jeans down around his thighs. The hands come back up and glide over the cotton of Jensen’s boxer briefs, and the skin underneath is tingling in anticipation.
“Jared, fuck,” Jensen groans, grinding down harder until his cotton-covered cock is rubbing against Jared’s still-denim-clad one. It’s almost too hot like this, like they’re teenagers fucking around in the front seat of the car they borrowed from their dad.
Jared takes control, gripping Jensen’s ass and pulling him down even harder. His fingers hover just inside the elastic of Jensen’s underwear, taunting him deliciously. Jensen wants to rip the material from himself, but he waits, letting Jared rub teasing fingers just inside the cleft of his ass.
“Yeah, like that, c’mon Jensen,” Jared hisses, biting down on Jensen’s lower lip until Jensen can feel it swelling. Jared angles his body up just slightly as he slides his middle finger right down the crease and taps against Jensen’s hole.
“Oh god,” Jensen moans, rubbing against Jared frantically before finally coming in his pants like he just went through puberty.
Jared sighs and grips him tighter, fucking up into him through two layers of clothing until he’s making a mess out of his own jeans.
“Oh,” Jensen huffs, panting against Jared’s mouth.
“Oh,” Jared agrees, going limp underneath him.
Jensen can’t resist nuzzling his face into the curve of Jared’s perfect sweaty neck. “I’m really glad you moved in.”
Jensen can feel the vibrations from where Jared laughs tiredly. “So no more serial killer jokes?”
Jensen bites down just to hear Jared grunt. “Depends on whether or not you’re dumb enough to let people steal your key again.”
He totally doesn’t giggle when Jared throws him down on the couch with a growl and starts their celebrating all over again.