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FIC: Witnesses Appear (PG-13)
Title: Witnesses Appear
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 710 words
Notes: Aha. Ahahah. This is a wedding fic! I am absolutely shameless. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arabella_hope and kashmir1 for read-overs and reassurances, even though there were some technical difficulties. Those girls are pretty much the bomb, y'all. ♥
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 710 words
Notes: Aha. Ahahah. This is a wedding fic! I am absolutely shameless. Thanks to
arabella_hope and kashmir1 for read-overs and reassurances, even though there were some technical difficulties. Those girls are pretty much the bomb, y'all. ♥It happens on Tuesday.
“Jared,” Jensen says around his red toothbrush, “I think we should get, like, married. Or whatever.”
Jared scrubs uselessly at a zit on his forehead and thinks about trying out that stupid Proactiv shit. Freaking mountain’s been there for two days and it’s really starting to piss him off. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jensen says. He spits into the sink and rinses his mouth out with a handful of cold water. “You wanna?”
“Sure, whatever,” Jared answers.
-
“So, Jensen and I – we’re getting married,” Jared tells Mike on the phone the next day. It just comes out, like a sneeze or something, right in the middle of Mike reeling off stats from the sports bar down the street so Jared can tell him what to bet on.
Mike laughs. A lot. “Dude, you’re – hahah – you’re what? Loser. Are you wearing the dress or is Jenny? Man, I would kill to see you in a veil.”
“Fuck you, dude, it’s gonna be classy,” Jared argues. “Or something.”
Pretty soon, Mike’s wheezing into the phone, and Jared listens to the frantic puff of Albuterol while he spreads strawberry jam and peanut butter on his toast.
-
They tell Eric on Friday, and he doesn’t seem to really mind. Except for, well, he does. The entire trailer sort of rocks, and not in a sexy way.
“So, that went well,” Jensen says, patting down his hair. It’s sticking up every which way, spiked and twisted with nervous fingers.
“Dude – Jen, just. Leave it,” Jared tells him. “I like it that way.”
Jensen’s trailer doesn’t rock because they don’t even make it to the wall. They wind up on the cold, unforgiving floor, and Jared can’t cross his legs for two days because of the rug burn. It’s pretty heinous.
Jared doesn’t really mind.
-
The date’s set for sometime in May, after the last episode of the season has aired. Jensen’s parents seem pretty resigned to having Jared as a son-in-law. Jared’s are just relieved Jensen doesn’t eat like an animal. The first night Jensen spends at the Padalecki ranch, they all sit down at the table and have supper together.
“Would you like another dinner roll, dear?” Mrs. Padalecki asks.
“No, thank you,” Jensen declines politely, smiling with all his good charm. “I’m full.”
Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki look at each other with something like genuine, ecstatic surprise on their faces. Jared proudly claps Jensen on the back, hand big and warm.
“S’my boy,” he says around his third helping of mashed potatoes.
-
“Oh, hey,” Jensen says, stepping up to the checkout counter with a bundle of his weird-ass white asparagus in one hand. “We’re on the cover.”
He points at the rack of magazines, just generally, because they really are on the cover of pretty much every magazine – well, except Rachel Ray’s, because that would be weird. Jared idly picks one of the Peoples up while they’re waiting for the woman in front of them to get her goddamn bananas through, and pages through it to the article about their wedding.
“I look hot,” Jared says proudly. “If you ever wonder why you’re marrying me, dude? It’s because I’m hot. Like burning.”
Jensen snorts. “Careful there, Smokey. Only you can prevent forest fires.”
-
Despite all his blithe calm leading up to the day, Jared freaks out right before the ceremony is supposed to start.
“My left shoe is missing,” he tells Chad, voice high-pitched. “My left shoe is missing. I can’t go out there without my left shoe. My right shoe would be all alone, and that would be sad, and isn’t that what this entire goddamn fucking thing is about anyway, pairs? Where is my left shoe.”
“Breathe,” Chad orders firmly. His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh. “Your right shoe is gonna be all alone, man? You pussy.”
They find Jared’s left shoe stuck behind the door, scuffed at the heel but otherwise fine. Chad mockingly makes the pair kiss toes, and Jared stops freaking out.
-
“I do,” Jensen says.
“I do,” Jared says, “Or do I.”
“Dude, cut it out,” Jensen says, elbowing Jared in the stomach. He’s snickering, though, and maybe Jared sort of loves him a lot, fine.
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