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One for the Team

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"Hello, Dean."

They're alone together in Jensen's trailer with at least an hour before the next take, and Jared's on his knees, wearing an oversized trench-coat that makes him look absurdly small. He's wearing that ridiculous wig again and brandishing the prop angel blade as if it's an umbrella on a rainy day, and the whole effect is deliberately absurd.

Except he's also using that stupidly deep voice that sounds nothing like Misha but does things to Jensen's dick that just should not be possible.

"Yeah," Jensen snorts. "That's so last year. Don'tcha got anything better?"

It's almost Halloween, and after last year's display of silliness, in which Team Free Will cosplayed each other, it seems only fair that they should find something equally ridiculous to do this year.

Except, last year was a little hard to beat.

"Okay," Jared pulls the wig off and climbs to his feet, dropping the blade and shrugging out of the coat. "How about just you and me this year?"

"Yeah?" Jensen cocks an eyebrow and is rewarded by Jared's dazzling dimpled grin, the one that just won't quit.

"Yeah," Jared squares his shoulders, hunches forward and bows his legs dramatically as he pulls up the collar of his flannel. "I'll be you. Dean. And you can be Sam."

Jensen's dick likes that idea, too. Hell, he seems to like most of Jared's suggestions, most of the time. Must be something about the way Jared licks his lips when he comes up with a new idea. Like every thought holds the promise of undressing Jensen and spreading him open on any available surface in the not-too-distant-future.

Which, knowing Jared and his constantly-horny thought-processes, probably isn't too far from the truth.

"Okay, you're on," Jensen stands tall, makes a show of flicking invisible hair out of his face, then grabs a chair and climbs up on it so that he towers over Jared. "I'm Sam."

"No, no," Jared shakes his head, laughing. "Not me playing Sam. You play Sam. You almost got cast as him in the first place, so let's have it. Show us what Jensen Ackles would do if he played Sam. And I'll be Dean."

This should be interesting, Jensen thinks.

"Well, first thing would be, I'd cut his hair," Jensen grunts, and Jared rolls his eyes.

"Okay, now Sam has butt-short hair," he agrees good-naturedly, and Jensen jumps down from the chair, frowning.

"Dean would never have long hair," he comments as he peers up at Jared skeptically.

Jared's smile turns wicked as he moves closer, eyes locked on Jensen's, and now Jensen's heart's twitching along with his dick.

"My Dean would wear it tied back all the time," Jared drawls. "He'd only let it down when he was alone. At night. With his handsy little brother who loves to run his fingers through it."

"Oh yeah?" Jensen's voice cracks, and it's damned embarrassing is what it is, the way Jared just gets to him without even doing anything. Just with his words and his looks and his goddamn ideas. Shit.

"Uh-huh," Jared nods, closing the final distance so that Jensen finds himself pressed against the counter, Jared right there in his personal space, almost touching. "His gorgeous, infuriating little brother can be so stubborn sometimes. So bossy. Thinks he's got his big brother wrapped around his adorable little finger."

"He does," Jensen growls, but his voice is shaking. "Little brothers always have the upper hand."

"That's what they think," Jared slots himself between Jensen's thighs, which have somehow parted of their own accord. He hooks his thumbs in Jensen's belt-loops and tugs, pressing their lower bodies together. There's no mistaking the hard line of Jared's overgrown cock, wedged against Jensen's stomach. Jensen hisses as his dick gets some friction, and Jared lowers his head, cups the back of Jensen's head as his lips graze Jensen's ear, sending sparks of delicious arousal up his spine.

"Sometimes pain-in-ass little brothers need to be taken in hand," he purrs against Jensen's ear. "Sometimes they need to be reminded who's the boss."

Jensen shivers and arches up against Jared's long body, which is almost completely covering his now. Jensen's eyes have closed, and when he arches against Jared the taller man slides his hand down over Jensen's ass, long middle finger slipping into the crack between his ass-cheeks, brushing his hole through his jeans.

"Just because you're taller, doesn't mean you're the boss," Jensen gasps as Jared's lips graze along his jaw. Jared's huge hand tilts Jensen's head to the side so Jared can mouth along the tender stubbled skin there too, and Jensen sucks in a breath.

"It so does, little brother," Jared smiles against Jensen's skin as his hand spans Jensen's ass, rubbing deliberately at his hole now, making Jensen squirm. "It so does."

Jensen moans and spreads his legs wider as Jared manhandles him onto the counter, one arm around his back, the other under his thigh, lifting Jensen as he spreads his legs wider. Somewhere along the line Jensen's hooked his arms up over Jared's shoulders, one hand tangled in his long, soft hair as Jared mouths at his neck and jaw. Jared's hands are everywhere now that Jensen's practically sitting on the counter with his legs wrapped around Jared's waist; he's pushing them up under Jensen's shirts, seeking skin, and Jensen moans again as Jared's thumbs brush over his nipples.

"Off," Jared commands breathlessly, pushing Jensen's costume flannel off his shoulders roughly, momentarily binding his arms behind him.

"Don't tear it," Jensen gasps. "Marci will kill me." It wouldn't be the first time Jensen's ripped one of his costumes in the pursuit of a backstage quicky, although so far their wardrobe mistress has been remarkably tolerant. Jensen wants to keep it that way.

Jared controls his impatience as Jensen pulls his arms out of the sleeves, then yanks his undershirt over his head. Jared leans back so he can admire the view, and Jensen gets an eyeful of his disheveled, red-cheeked co-star, eyes blown almost black with lust, soft lips parted and slick and rubbed raw from Jensen's stubble.

"Lookin' good, big brother," Jensen growls and is rewarded by a blinding Padalecki grin, all teeth and dimples.

"You sound like Dean," Jared accuses, like he's caught Jensen slipping character, and Jensen quickly shakes his head.

"Oh no," Jensen says. "The way I play him, Sam's a total charmer."

"Oh, is that so?" Jared starts to lean in for a kiss and Jensen puts a hand on his chest.

"Yes it is, as a matter of fact," he quirks an eyebrow, admires how Jared blushes in response. "And my Sam needs your Dean naked. Now."

"Is that an order, Sammy?" Jared steals a kiss from the edge of Jensen's mouth and Jensen pushes him square in the chest.

"Yes," he snaps. "Yes it is. Now strip."

Jared smirks as he takes a step back, makes a show of removing his shirts slow and sexy, keeping his eyes locked on Jensen's as he does it. When he unbuckles his belt Jensen reaches for it.

"Gimme that," he demands. Jensen's already removed his own belt and boots, and Jared steps in to let Jensen grab one end of his belt, slipping it out of its loops nice and slow as Jared unbuttons his jeans and slides the zipper down. Jensen licks his lips as the solid mound of Jared's fully erect dick comes into view, covered by only a thin layer of gray cotton boxer-briefs.

"Lookin' real good," Jensen repeats as Jared's big hand shoves its way down the front of his jeans to palm his dick.

"Wait," Jensen slides the leather belt through his hands speculatively as he watches Jared's hand stop moving. He catches Jared's dark gaze as his co-star looks up expectantly. "Turn around. Show me what you got."

Jared smirks as he obeys, sending a flirtatious glance over his shoulder as his big hands start pushing his jeans down. He wiggles provocatively as the jeans slide over his ass, then drop into a puddle at his feet. He arches his back and sticks out his butt as he steps out of them, sending another sly smirk over his shoulder.

Jensen doesn't hesitate. He's got the belt in his hands anyway, doubled so he can give it a quick snap just before he slaps it against the perfect mound of Jared's brief-covered ass.

"Off," Jensen commands as Jared jumps a little, casts a startled glance over his shoulder. "All of it. Need you naked, Dean."

Jared sucks in a breath as he hears the name, obeys almost eagerly, then stands with his back to Jensen, awaiting further instruction. Jared's almost too well-conditioned, Jensen thinks, after all the times Jensen has directed him. He stands still with his arms hanging at his sides as Jensen gets a good look, drags the moment on just a little too long, so that Jared starts to fidget.

"Turn around," Jensen says finally, and Jared almost spins in place. He's flushed and tan and glorious from both angles, but this way Jared can see him, and he gives Jensen that eager-to-please hopeful expression that Jensen knows too well. Without his clothes Jared seems smaller, more vulnerable, and after the slap on the ass he's dropped the sassy attitude, waits humble and trusting for his next order.

"Come here," Jensen commands, and Jared steps back into the space between Jensen's legs. His body gives off waves of heat that soak into Jensen's skin and make him shiver; Jared's trembling, he realizes, and he runs the leather belt up Jared's hip, over his belly, just tracing Jared's skin with the flat of it.

"You know I could never hurt you, right?" Jensen murmurs, and Jared nods. His dick is so hard and they're standing so close that it's lying heavy on Jensen's jean-clad thigh, leaking and tempting.

"Kiss me," Jensen commands, and Jared sighs, takes Jensen's head in his big hands and leans in. He has to bend a little, tilting Jensen's face up since he's still sitting on the counter, but Jared's used to his height and knows how to manage it. Jensen catches a glimpse of Jared's closed eyes before his lips take Jensen's in a searing kiss, tentative and gentle at first, then deeper as Jensen parts his lips to let Jared in. Jared plunders his mouth, manhandling his head to get the angle just right, moaning as he tastes and devours every corner and crevice of Jensen's mouth with his tongue.

Jensen slides the belt up Jared's hip, around his back to the curve of his ass. He slides his arm around Jared's waist and grabs the other end of the belt, pulling Jared closer with the strap over his hips.

Jared squirms against the leather, pulls back from the kiss to nose along Jensen's jaw again.

"What do you want, Sammy?" Jared gasps, voice raw and desperate. "Tell me what you want."

"Want you to ride me, big brother," Jensen growls. "Can you do that? Ride me in that big soft chair over there? Huh?"

"Yeah," Jared breathes, kissing at Jensen's lips, sucking on them and pulling them into his mouth, worrying them with his teeth. Jensen knows what they look like when Jared's done with them; he's seen his reflection in the mirror after Jared's worked his mouth over like this, all bee-stung swollen and red. "Yeah, I can do that."

Before Jensen can protest, Jared's picking him up, holding his thigh with one arm, the other wrapped around Jensen's back, hand splayed as he pulls Jensen against him and steps back from the counter.

Jensen gasps at how easily Jared picks him up. He'll never get used to it. Jared carries him like a child to the sprawling armchair in the corner of the trailer and sets him down gently. Somewhere along the way Jensen dropped the belt, along with his vague idea of asking Jared to bind his wrists with it, but now he's glad he has his hands free so he can unzip his jeans and shimmy his way out of them and his boxers as Jared grabs lube out of the drawer beside the chair.

Jensen watches as Jared slicks up his fingers and starts working himself open.

"Turn around," he demands, gesturing for the lube. "Let me help."

Jared obeys without hesitation, turning around and bending over so his perfect ass is almost eye-level and Jensen scoots forward, drizzling lube over his fingers as he inspects Jared's slick hole. He rubs his lubed thumb around the rim, watches the skin pucker and flex before he pushes one finger inside, waiting for Jared to adjust before he starts to move. Once he feels the muscles relax, Jensen adds another finger. Jared grunts and tenses so Jensen stops for a moment, running a soothing hand up Jared's back as he waits for his body to adjust.

"Okay, buddy?" he murmurs, and Jared huffs out a laugh.

"Yeah," he nods. "It's fine."

Jensen leans forward and places a kiss on the base of Jared's spine, then leaves his mouth there as he starts to work his fingers in Jared's ass, kissing and soothing with his other hand as he eases Jared open. When he pushes a third finger inside with little resistance, Jensen can tell Jared's ready. He pumps and scissors his fingers a few more times as Jared moans and shudders, then Jensen withdraws his hands so he can slick up his dick. Jared turns around, leans over Jensen with his hands propping his weight on the back of the chair and kisses him, slow and dirty.

As Jared pulls back to add his weight to the chair, climbing on with a knee on either side of Jensen's hips, Jensen gets a good view of Jared's debauched state. His hair clings in sweaty strings around his face, which is as flushed and sweaty as the rest of him; Jared's powerful throat is shiny with sweat and his chest hair is dark and damp all the way down to his dick. Veins stick out prominently on his strong arms as he holds his weight off Jensen, and his jaw is clenched with concentration as Jensen angles his dick so that Jared can sink down onto it, shaking a little with the effort as he does it.

Jensen's big, hairy, sweaty mess of a co-star is quite definitely the most beautiful thing Jensen's ever laid eyes on, not that he'd ever tell him that.

"So gorgeous, little brother," Jared breathes as he gazes down at Jensen, who feels like his mind's been read. It makes him blush, and Jared's right there, kissing him as he rises up and sinks down again, making satisfied moans and growls deep in his chest. "God damn it, your dick feels good."

The big chair rocks with their combined weight as Jared starts to really ride him, and Jensen keeps his hands on Jared's hips, his eyes on his face, alert for any sign of discomfort. Jared's expression shifts from focused concentration to blissful abandonment, his soft pink mouth parting so that Jensen gets a flash of uneven teeth and wet tongue.

Jensen reaches between them for Jared's neglected dick, but Jared bats his hand away,

"Wanna come on your dick," he gasps. "Wanna come just looking at you."

Jensen's dick twitches and swells at the thought and he squeezes his eyes shut in his effort not to come.

"Jesus, Jay," he breathes, wave after wave of arousal making him incoherent, turning his brain to jello.

"Ha," Jared huffs out a laugh that's almost a cry as he tenses, then comes hot and hard all over Jensen's chest, one particularly forceful drop hitting Jensen's chin, just below his bottom lip. "You broke character."

Jensen opens his eyes, pumping his hips to follow Jared over the edge, babbling, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," as the tension builds and finally crests, shooting his release into Jared's ass. "Son of a bitch."

Jared lets his weight rest on Jensen's body for a full minute as he comes down, collapsed on top of Jensen so that Jensen's face is smashed into Jared's sweaty shoulder. Jensen allows it until he starts to run out of air, then he gets his hands between them and pushes on the sweaty, slippery mess of Jared's chest.

"Get off me," he grumbles, and Jared scrambles to comply. His face is an adorable mask of confusion, which is how Jensen knows he fell asleep, the big baby, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is. Then he grins, all goofy and pleased with himself.

"You broke character," he repeats himself, and Jensen scowls. "You called me Jay. And you said 'son-of-a-bitch.' Sam would never say that."

"Shut up," Jensen grumbles. "You're a mess."

"You liked it," Jared insists, still grinning broadly. "You like playing the little brother."

"I am not little," Jensen protests as he gets up, pushing Jared backwards toward the trailer's small bathroom.

"You like letting big brother take care of you," Jared teases, eyes sparkling. "You would've let me tie you up. Admit it."

"Oh for God's sake," Jensen growls, directing Jared ahead of him into the shower stall. "You don't know what you're talking about. And we are not playing that game again, you hear me? That was just – stupid."

"You liked it," Jared says again, slanted fox eyes too sly and wise for their own good, goddamn it anyway, Jensen decides as he positions Jared under the shower head and turns on the water.

He soaps Jared up good all over, just to show him who's still completely in charge, who's the director of this show. Jared grins at him the whole time, gloating and so adorably sure of himself that it makes Jensen want to kiss that smug look right off his face.

So he does, which might have led to another round of good old-fashioned slippery shower-sex if the knock on the door hadn't interrupted to remind them it was time to return to set.

Just another day of life imitating art, Jensen thinks as he lets Jared wash the shampoo out of his hair. The family that showers together and all. Of course, with Jared life and art are so closely intertwined it really isn't possible to find the boundaries, maybe because they keep shifting. Some days Jensen feels like he's everything when it comes to Jared. He's Dean, he's Sam, he's big brother and little brother. He's best friend, lover, and co-worker. He and Jared are partners in every way. Teammates.

Except, in their case, there's only one team. Which is probably a good thing, Jensen reflects as he combs the shampoo out of Jared's long, silky hair.

It's just the way it should be.