salixbabylon | Fic: Gretel to His Hansel (1/1)

Title: Gretel to His Hansel
Author:

salixbabylon
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2139
Disclaimer: No offense meant at all to the real guys. This is just fiction, people.

Summary: Jared has a bad day at work, Jensen is stupidly hot, and a fairy tale gets mangled.

Warning: Spoilers for episode 4.05.

Notes: I can't even believe I wrote this. *facepalms* Credit goes to

mizbhaven for encouraging this insanity. And also betaing. *smooches her* (And to

sileya and

arieltachna for assuring me I wasn't crazy to keep writing.)

Gretel to His Hansel

Seriously, Jared had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him.

It was a costume. They'd been in stupid costumes before. It was part and parcel of acting, the stupid costumes. Not so much on "Supernatural," but yeah, in general acting came with silly costumes, as well as makeup and taunts of being a fag. None of it was a big deal. It didn't faze him, hadn't since he was fifteen.

But holy fucking Christ. This? Was so wrong.

I mean, lederhosen.

Sure, Oktoberfest was awesome – how could anyone go wrong with beer and ooompah music and cleavage - and the episode was going to be amazing in about eight million kinds of ways. The dailies he'd glanced at were fucking fantastic.

But.

Jensen.

In lederhosen.

It was making something in Jared's head just explode.

Or maybe something in his pants. And not quite exploding, but well. Thinking about exploding. In a way that made him glad Sam wore loose jeans and hope the camera angles weren't going to catch his Enormous Throbbing Erection. Because Sam? Should not be so turned on by his brother dressed as fucking Hansel for fucking fuck's sake.

Man, it was like Ben Edlund had some freaky psychic ability to find all of Jared's worst fetishes, fetishes unknown even to him, and decide to include them in this week's script. Evil fucking bastard. Jared was never forgiving him for this. Or for the Mandroids thing, either, although that was a subject best not talked about, ever.

Well, at least thinking about Ben kind of cooled the flames a bit. Nice guy. Not attractive.

Then, of course, Jared looked at Jensen again and, well. Throb.

It was the socks. Or maybe the suspenders. Or the little embroidered flap in the front. Yeah, it was the flap. Codpiece. For sure.

Although Jensen did have awfully shapely calves...

Shit. He was such a fucking pervert and he'd honestly had no idea before this. I mean, who had a fucking lederhosen kink, for crying out loud?

Well, aside from him and probably five hundred million fangirls, once the episode aired.

And maybe Ben...

"Cut! Jared, you look like you're about to pass out or puke. You ok, man? Dizzy? Is it too hot or something? Get the guy some water, somebody," Robert ordered.

Jared tried not to stare at Jensen's codpiece flap and think about how big it was and what that said about what was underneath it. Ok, he didn't try hard, but that's because his mind was a superfast, speedy-quick place and he couldn't stop the thoughts until they'd already flashed through his brain, as sudden as lightning and twice as likely to incinerate someone.

Something. Jared's pants, namely.

Shit; he hadn't had to run off to his trailer to jerk off in so long. How embarrassing.

He ignored Jensen yelling after him, sprinting all the way, and body-slamming the door. He collapsed against it, shoving Sam's clothes aside, turned on and embarrassed and pissed off and amazed at just how potent lust was when mixed with humiliation. He was normally unflusterable, unflappable, unembarrassable and, God, his mama would kill him for mangling the English language like that, but his hand was on his cock and now was not the time to be thinking about his mama. Or having good grammar. No, now was the time for wrapping his hand around his aching flesh, jerking hard and fast, eyes screwed shut, head falling back against the door, thrusting into his own fist. And cursing Ben Edlund, Oktoberst, Bavarians, costume designers, and stupid fucking Jensen for being so unbelievably stupidly hot that he even made LEDERHOSEN sexy.

"Codpiece," he might or might not have groaned as he came all over his fist. He leaned against the door and breathed for a few moments.

Random thoughts wandered across his brain. Why did the shapeshifter monster dude dress Dean up like that anyway? Didn't make sense. Other than, right, Oktoberfest. And Jensen's ability to make stupid lederhosen hot.

Stupid fucking Jensen.

Now, there was a thought...

"Thirty minute break," he heard one of the PAs yell, midway between his trailer and Jensen's.

He grunted an acknowledgment no one would hear and shuffled forward to the sofa, snagging some tissues from the end-table to clean up with. Pants still open, only semi-tucked away, he did a face-plant into the cushions, toed off his shoes, and let the afterglow lull him into a doze.

*****

It was warm and smelled like gingerbread – no, cookies, definitely cookies. Although it smelled like candy too, like those spice gumdrops his Nana always had in a glass jar on her table. Jared's crinolines itched.

"Hurry up," Jensen said in his Dean voice.

The sky was an unusual shade of pink, Jared thought. It made his knee socks look extra white as he strode through the trees, down the path to catch up.

Jensen's socks were kind of beige. They highlighted the curves of his leg muscles really well, as did the ass-hugging shorts.

To say nothing of the embroidered codpiece.

He shouldn't think thoughts like that about his brother, though. Well, fake brother. Friend, in reality. Jared blinked, trying to figure that out for a moment, then got distracted by the smell again. Where the smell was coming from, to be specific. A real honest-to-goodness house, in the forest, made of cookies and candy.

This was the best dream Jared had ever had in his whole life that didn't involve sex.

Well, except for the crinolines. They itched like a little bitch. Which rhymed and was funny, but scratchy lace on his balls? Not so funny. Maybe he should have worn panties.

Except that Jared didn't wear panties. Or skirts. Not even with crinolines. But if there was a candy house involved? He'd wear whatever fucked up thing the costume designers wanted to put him in.

The door opened and Jim came outside, wearing a black-and-green-plaid flannel shirt and a black witch's hat. "Hansel," he said, nodding at Jensen. Dean. Whoever.

"Gretel," he said, smirking at Jared. Or maybe he was Sam? There was candy, so who cared?

"Come on inside, boys," he added, holding the door open. "Lots of cookies and candy and stuff for you."

Inside looked exactly like his Nana's house, only darker. Jared sat down on the sofa, trying to fluff his skirt out so it wouldn't itch quite so much.

Jensen/Dean sat down next to him. "Nice dress," he said, grinning and reaching out to run a hand up Jared's knee to his thigh, and Jared had to slap it away when Jim/Bobby came back with a tray of tea cups and cookies.

"It itches," he complained. "And how come I have to wear a skirt?"

"You're Gretel," Jensen explained, as if that made sense. Since it was a dream, it kind of did.

"But then I have to kill Jim, if he's the witch."

"But we get to eat the house," Jensen pointed out, and that was a pretty compelling argument.

Jared put a cookie on Jensen's knee, very carefully balancing it, then slid off the sofa to kneel on the floor, and ate it. Jensen's knee was a surprisingly good plate.

Tasty, too. He licked up all the crumbs.

There weren't any crumbs on Jensen's thigh, but he licked it as well. Licked under the edge of the shorts, eyes fixated on that stupid embroidered crotch-flap.

"How does that open?"

"Let me show you," Jensen grinned, and moments later Jared's mouth was full of cock, which was just what he wanted. Sometimes more than candy, even.

He looked up at Jensen, past the billowy white shirt and the not-supposed-to-be-sexy suspenders and saw Jensen looking at him. His eyes were dark with arousal, tongue poking out to lick his lips as if he just couldn't stop himself from echoing what Jared was doing to his cock. He thrust his hips up, sliding deeper into Jared's throat, just a little bit.

"Sweet," Jared murmured, pulling away for a breath. Jensen quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Delicious," he corrected himself, letting his lips rub against the hard, spit-slick flesh.

He leaned in to get back to his treat, but Jensen tangled his fingers in Jared's hair and pushed him away, gentle but determined.

"Wanna fuck you in that skirt," he said. It wasn't a question. It was Jared's dream; of course he was going to say yes, yes, YES!

An anachronistic bottle of lube was pressed into Jensen's other hand.

Jim shrugged at them. "Don't stop on my account."

"Well. Um," Jared stuttered as Jensen manhandled him until he was bent over the arm of the sofa, his skirt pushed up onto his back, bare ass exposed to the world. Well, to Jensen. And Jim.

It still felt wrong, being bare-assed in his grandmother's living room, the scent of cookies in the air. Then again, cookies made everything all right, didn't they? So it was fine.

And then there was one of those annoying time-lapse things that happens in dreams and Jensen was behind him, fucking him, and they'd evidently skipped past the preparation part which was honestly one of Jared's favorite parts of being fucked, so that was kind of a downer. But Jensen was fucking him, and that mostly made up for it.

And Jensen still had the socks on, Jared noticed, twisting around to look. In fact, they were both fully dressed – Jensen just had the codpiece-flap-thing open. That was kind of extra naughty, as if the whole thing wasn't pervy enough.

Unfortunately, Jensen was thrusting too slowly. It was deep and he felt full, but the crinolines were really scratching against Jared's dick and balls and it was uncomfortable enough that he was starting to wake up and he really really really did not want that to happen.

He wanted Jensen to fuck him, so very badly, but he just couldn't quite feel it. And that sucked, because if Jensen was fucking him, he wanted to feel every single thing, in detail. Over and over and over.

He wiggled his hips, hoping for friction, and only getting more crinolines.

Consciousness pulled at him. It still smelled like cookies, though.

*****

Jared woke up. Jensen was sitting next to him, fiddling with one of the cookie-scented candles Jared kept all over his trailer. The sofa's cheap fabric made the skin prickle on his sweaty cheek and belly and man-parts.

"You awake yet?" Jensen asked, poking him in the ribs. "Break's almost over."

"I had a dream last night, I wanted to lick your knees," Jared mumbled.

"What?"

"Nevermind, come here." He reached out an arm, pulling Jensen down to him as he rolled over. The way Jensen sprawled on top of him as they kissed was almost as sweet as the cookie scent.

Their tongues tangled sleepily for a while, before Jensen pulled back. He wiggled his hips against Jared's naked dick with a naughty grin. "So. The shorts turned you on, huh? Pervert."

"Can't help it. Did you see you?" he tried.

"I look like a dork, you deviant fucking freak."

"Yeah. A total dork. But somehow so hot I want to rip off those suspenders and pull down those shorts and bend you over whatever surface is nearest and fuck you until both of us can't walk right, until we go blind from coming so goddamned hard."

Jensen got a slightly dazed look in his eyes.

Jared tugged at his neck to pull him back down, but Jensen moved away, holding up one hand like a stop-sign as he grabbed Jared's cell phone off the table. He fiddled with it for a moment.

"Diane? Yeah, hey, this is Jensen. I was wondering... Do you think I could have the lederhosen costume after we're done today?" he asked. "Yeah, this is definitely the last day for these shots."

There was a moment of silence while they waited for her response.

"It's for a good cause."

Jared snorted.

"A really really good cause," Jensen said, shoving at Jared with his free hand. His face spilt into a grin. "Awesome. Thanks." He hung up the phone and put it down.

"I think you've got a plan worth investigating, Gretel. It'll just have to wait a few hours until we get home," he teased.

Jared made a pouty, whiney noise, broken by a PA yelling "Five minutes!" outside the door. He scowled as Jensen cackled with glee.

"Get cleaned up, Sleeping Beauty," Jensen said, untangling their arms and legs and giving Jared's hopeful dick a pointed look. He turned around at the door and shook his ass at Jared.

In those fucking shorts. With the socks. And suspenders.

The door slammed.

"Cocktease," Jared growled.

Stupid fucking lederhosen.

Seriously, he was going to kill Ben one of these days...

~end~

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From:

softbluebuddy.livejournal.com

Total cracky perfection. Makes me wonder how many costumes he's gotten Diane to let him have after they are done with them.

Makes doing role play that much hotter when you have quality costumes.

I saw your note last night asking for an intervention. I deliberately did not answer your SOS as I couldn't wait to see what you would do with lederhosen.

Nicely done. :)

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Fic: Gretel to His Hansel (1/1)

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