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ht_murrayTitle: Under the Rug, 1/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
tru_faith_lost
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2450, this part
Warnings: none for this part, except language, subsequent parts will have, voyeurism, toys, masturbation, comments disabled
Summary: J2AU, Jensen's a gay but abstinent hairdresser who, at the behest of his dad, who owns the condo Jensen lives in, hires a housekeeper from UndertheRug.com. Jared works for UndertheRug.com, and it's not a cleaning service. Jensen's his first male client, and he's nervous about his first gay liaison, but really needs the money. Houston, we have a problem. Inspired by the fact that you can pretty much get sex off Craigslist these days if you know how to read between the lines, and you'd have to be pretty naive or trusting to take anything at face value.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't profit. Don't sue. This is all fiction with a very familiar cast.
Author's Note: Any and all familiar names and people are fair game, but Jensen/Jared is the pairing.
Under the Rug
Danneel twirled one strand of red hair around and around her finger, eyes going crossed in the never-ending search for split ends. Jensen had told her more times than he could count that straight-ironing would do that. She insisted on guinea pigging herself out to every new high-dollar deep conditioning treatment on the market rather than give it up. Lucky for her, Jensen got it all wholesale. She'd better bet her tight ass he was gonna charge her retail just as soon as he finished business school and opened his own salon. She humphed and slouched in the chair at the island between his kitchen and dining room, obviously disgruntled with her findings.
"No," Jensen said pre-emptively, "I do not have time to give you a trim right now. The guy from the cleaning service is going to be here in an hour, and I haven't even dusted yet."
She dropped the strand of hair, hands falling slack at her sides, and glared up at him from beneath her eyelashes, all impudent indignation. "What's the point of getting a cleaning service if you're going to do all the work yourself?"
"The point is, my dad bought this condo and lets me live here rent free under the agreement that I pay someone to clean it. You know how he is, all about spreading the wealth and trickling down what we have to trickle. Doesn't mean I should get out of the habit of doing for myself. Sloth is a deadly sin, you know."
"So is homosexuality, in case you missed the memo." She cracked her gum and tapped her toe in the air where her foot was crossed in her lap, one hand on her ankle.
"Which is why I'm abstinent." Jensen rubbed at a spot on the hood above the ceramic grill top, could've been grease, maybe a fly spot (God forbid), possibly even a reflection of one of his own freckles. Huffing a breath over it until the stainless steel clouded up, he wiped it with the dishrag, grimaced when that left a lint speck, and then polished it with his sleeve.
"An abstinent homosexual," Danneel retorted, smug in her tone, even if he couldn't see her face. "And anal. You know where the term comes from, right?"
Jensen wasn't biting. "This is not an appropriate topic of conversation, thank you."
Stubborn as always, she leaned forward in her chair, both hands on her ankle. "You see, when a little boy is potty trained and becomes fixated on stimulation to a certain..."
"Danny!"
"I'm just saying, maybe if you got your... stimulation out of the way, you wouldn't be seeing imaginary spots on the stainless steel. AND you'd have more time for the important things in life. Like my hair."
Shutting the dishwasher with a clank of pots, Jensen considered hanging his dish cloth over the rail, rethought that, and ducked around the corner into the laundry room, tossing the rag into the open hamper. "I'm doing your hair a huge favor by leaving it alone, which is what I've been telling you to do for years."
He was so not touching the subject of 'stimulation.' No pun intended. Danneel would be surprised just how much a guy could do all on his own, but he wasn't about to be the one to enlighten her. She'd convinced herself that her worldly knowledge was what kept him hanging around. He was pretty sure that was exactly why none of her actual boyfriends ever did, but Jensen was more of a 'live by example' kind of teacher, never blessed with the ability to form anything remotely resembling wisdom with his tongue. Whatever eloquence he may once have had vanished when he was sixteen and his mother decided spring cleaning entailed stripping every room in the house, including his bedroom.
How do you explain to a mother what a teenage boy needs a vibrator for? And how do you explain to a teenage boy why his mother mistakenly thinks he took it from her room? You don't, which is why he specifically asked the cleaning service to send over a guy instead of a woman. He was not attempting that conversation with anyone of the female persuasion ever again. A guy he could deal with. He'd heard more graphic sexual details in the locker room at school, and if he wasn't used to the judgmental 'queer leer' by now, he never would be. He just considered himself lucky to have found a service that actually employed guys. It'd taken him forever to track one down. In the end, he'd gotten the card for UndertheRug.com from one of his clients. New guy, kinda hot with wild, unruly hair and blue eyes. Collins? Oh yeah, Misha. Jensen remembered, because the dude kept anwering his phone while he was in Jensen's chair, "This is Misha," and Jensen had barely managed not to mime, "Misha, Misha, Misha," behind his back. Professional courtesy was apparently running short that day. It sometimes did when the client was especially... appealing, which was probably why most of Jensen's regulars were women.
"You don't mean that, baby," she cooed. "I'm your number one client."
"I'm your drug dealer. Everyone knows you get off by using the most expensive shit on the market. And I'm the only reason you can afford it."
She pouted. "What girl doesn't like to pamper herself?" An ominous pause in which Jensen actually heard her lips twist into a leer. "Besides you, I mean."
"Sweetie, you are my luxury. Having you sitting there saves me tons on decorating expenses, not to mention lighting." He swiped the crumbs out from under her saucer and into the sink. "Now eat up and get your ass out. You are not fawning over the housekeeper when he shows up."
"Why not?" She ate her pizza by twirling the cheese around her finger like it was another strand of hair. "'Ts not like you left him anything to do."
"And you're volunteering, I know." He tried not to sound disheartened, but he really wished she didn't work so hard on her doormat impersonation. She was better than that. Deserved better than that. She must've heard something in his voice, anyway, because she made that little noise he loved, half whimper, half squeal, and slid down off the chair.
He didn't look up from the sink while he chased the last of her crumbs down the drain with the scouring powder and brush he was using to clean it. Her arms slipped around his waist and she kissed the back of his neck before laying her head between his shoulder blades, thumbs stroking over his stomach. "You're way too good to me, baby," she sighed, then smacked him on the shoulder before smoothing out the wrinkle that made in his shirt. "And you're way too good to be alone."
"I'm perfectly happy with my life." He might've sound a little gruffer than he intended and probably scrubbed a little harder over water stains only he could see, but he meant it.
"Yeah, well, I'm not happy with your life, but damn if I know how to fix it."
"Then don't."
They exchanged pecks on the cheek, and she left.
"I'm perfectly happy with my life." Funny how he said it aloud when there was no one there to hear it but himself. When it echoed back at him from inside the fume hood, he said, "I am." Like arguing with himself had ever been less than futile.
--
"Chadrick the Great. You ask, I receive, so before you even start, I gotta ask, what's in it for me?"
Jared resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall. It was a fucking expensive phone. Company bought the first one, but replacements were all on him. "One emergency colonoscopy via big toe cam if you don't shut up. I'm freaking out here."
"Jared, I told you, don't sign on for full duties if you're not up for it. Not everyone's cut out for the big time. Misha understands that, but cutting out on a gig is the fastest way to get you canned." Water sloshed in the background.
"I'm up for it. That's not the problem," Jared insisted, "and please tell me you're not taking a bath."
"Fine, then I'm definitely not naked and slathered in vanilla-scented bubble clouds at this very moment." A statement which was immediately nullified by more sloshing water and the sound of bubbles being huffed away from his mouth. Jared knew Chad well enough to know he had a full bubble beard and mustache at that point, not to mention giant tits and a codpiece. "But I gotta say, I'm way prettier than most of our clients, so if you've got a problem with the visual of me naked and soaking wet, then you definitely shouldn't have taken this gig."
"That is so not the problem," Jared laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I hate to break it to you man, but this Ackles guy is way hotter than you."
"I find that impossible to believe, but I'll humor you on this. So, what is the major catastrophe? I showed you all the manuals. You said you had it figured out."
"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I've got all your gay porn burned into my frontal lobe. I'm good." Jared shuddered, not so much from the actual porn images in his mind, but from the idea that Chad considered them educational.
"So hang up and get down to business, cowboy. The first time's the hardest, but believe me, once that's out of the way, it's all smooth sailing."
"That's the problem! He left!"
"Who left?"
"Jens... the client! Ackles!" Jared scrubbed a hand through his hair, spun around to face himself in the full-wall mirror behind the dining room table, and fuck if he wasn't getting pit stains from the stress. "He gave me a tote full of cleaning supplies, an apron, a duster, and the grand tour of his... freakin' spotless condo, and then excused himself." He changed the phone to his other ear, because he's made the first one sore by applying too much muscle. "Get this, said he had to go to his campus Bible study group. He's in charge of the music."
The slosh of water on the other end of the line resembled the sound a sea lion made when it heaved itself out of a pool at Sea World, leaving no doubt that Jared's words were finally striking some portion of Chad's brain. "I know, right?" Jared huffed, panic bubbling in his chest.
Chad's word were muffled, probably by a towel as he cleared the bubbles from around his mouth. "That's... um... I don't think I have a manual for that."
Clasping his elbow like the phone weighed a ton and still leaning his head down shoulder level to speak into the receiver, Jared ended up leaning against the mirror, jerked away when he realized his might smear it. "You don't think he actually wants a housekeeper, do you?"
"What?" A moment of contemplative silence. "No. No fucking way," Chad said. "Sure the listing is cryptic. You've gotta be subtle if you want to draw in the big spenders. Can't exactly put up a banner ad that says 'Tail for Sale-- Floors, Countertops, Tubs, Tiles and Windows-- no surface we won't do you on, over, or against.' But this guy was referred by Misha, right?"
"Yeah."
"So no way he's that far off base."
"I dunno, Chad," Jared huffed, biting at his thumbnail. "Misha's..."
"Kind of a smartass," Chad finished. "I know, but he's still a professional. The last thing he needs is someone walking into a meetup unaware and blowing the whistle on the whole business. No. Look around. There's gotta be some kind of clue. Maybe he left you a list or something. A costume, maybe?"
Jared spun around, nearly knocking over the tote of (completely useless) cleaning supplies. "No! There's nothing. This place is spotless, just wall to wall mirrors and stainless steel."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, mirrors?" Chad asked.
"Yeah. Guy said he was a little claustrophobic. The mirrors make the space seem bigger."
"And you believed that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Jared returned, his voice at least half and octave higher.
"Let me guess," Chad ventured. "Did he ask you not to clean the glass?"
"Well, yeah, but I guess a lot of services refuse to do glass and windows. I thought he was just playing along."
Jared's blood froze, Chad's response a low, groaning chuckle. "Jared, dude. You got yourself a real kinkster, there."
Hand to his hip, "What... whattaya mean?"
"Two-way glass, newbie. Classic voyeur."
"Um," Jared mulled that over, now pointedly looking away from the mirror only to find himself looking into the one on the other side of the room, and ended up covering his brow with his hand, focusing down on the floor. "Um, okay, so, voyeurs... they like to watch, right?"
"You got it."
Lowering his voice to a whisper, "And you think he's watching me right now?"
"I sure don't think he's leading a prayer group," Chad huffed, and now Jared could hear the last of the bathwater siphoning down the drain.
"Well, what do I do?!" It was hard to yell without, you know, actually yelling, and Jared could've pulled his hair out from frustration.
"Give him something to watch."
"Like what?"
"If I have to tell you, then you're really not cut out for this job." The phone call ended on what Jared could've sworn was a maniacal cackle.
"Fuck." Jared snapped the phone shut and stood stock still, eyes on the floor as he contemplated his next move. Then, "Fine."
He wasn't about to walk out on his first male client. He'd never live that down, and he needed the fucking money. The guy liked to watch, Jared would give him a show. Squaring up his shoulders, Jared lifted his gaze, dragged smokey eyes up his own reflection until he met himself face to face, and reached for his belt buckle.
TBC
A/N: Yeah, comments are disabled. This is not to stop anyone from voicing a constructive criticism, only to save me the anguish of watching my inbox. : / I'll update when I get a chance. Running and work are taking up most of my time these days, but if I don't post what I have, I'll never get it off my hard drive. I'll try to update no less than twice a month. Another chapter of Digging Deep should be up this weekend. Feel free to track if you don't want to miss an update. Thanks so much for reading.
Author:
tru_faith_lostPairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2450, this part
Warnings: none for this part, except language, subsequent parts will have, voyeurism, toys, masturbation, comments disabled
Summary: J2AU, Jensen's a gay but abstinent hairdresser who, at the behest of his dad, who owns the condo Jensen lives in, hires a housekeeper from UndertheRug.com. Jared works for UndertheRug.com, and it's not a cleaning service. Jensen's his first male client, and he's nervous about his first gay liaison, but really needs the money. Houston, we have a problem. Inspired by the fact that you can pretty much get sex off Craigslist these days if you know how to read between the lines, and you'd have to be pretty naive or trusting to take anything at face value.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't profit. Don't sue. This is all fiction with a very familiar cast.
Author's Note: Any and all familiar names and people are fair game, but Jensen/Jared is the pairing.
Danneel twirled one strand of red hair around and around her finger, eyes going crossed in the never-ending search for split ends. Jensen had told her more times than he could count that straight-ironing would do that. She insisted on guinea pigging herself out to every new high-dollar deep conditioning treatment on the market rather than give it up. Lucky for her, Jensen got it all wholesale. She'd better bet her tight ass he was gonna charge her retail just as soon as he finished business school and opened his own salon. She humphed and slouched in the chair at the island between his kitchen and dining room, obviously disgruntled with her findings.
"No," Jensen said pre-emptively, "I do not have time to give you a trim right now. The guy from the cleaning service is going to be here in an hour, and I haven't even dusted yet."
She dropped the strand of hair, hands falling slack at her sides, and glared up at him from beneath her eyelashes, all impudent indignation. "What's the point of getting a cleaning service if you're going to do all the work yourself?"
"The point is, my dad bought this condo and lets me live here rent free under the agreement that I pay someone to clean it. You know how he is, all about spreading the wealth and trickling down what we have to trickle. Doesn't mean I should get out of the habit of doing for myself. Sloth is a deadly sin, you know."
"So is homosexuality, in case you missed the memo." She cracked her gum and tapped her toe in the air where her foot was crossed in her lap, one hand on her ankle.
"Which is why I'm abstinent." Jensen rubbed at a spot on the hood above the ceramic grill top, could've been grease, maybe a fly spot (God forbid), possibly even a reflection of one of his own freckles. Huffing a breath over it until the stainless steel clouded up, he wiped it with the dishrag, grimaced when that left a lint speck, and then polished it with his sleeve.
"An abstinent homosexual," Danneel retorted, smug in her tone, even if he couldn't see her face. "And anal. You know where the term comes from, right?"
Jensen wasn't biting. "This is not an appropriate topic of conversation, thank you."
Stubborn as always, she leaned forward in her chair, both hands on her ankle. "You see, when a little boy is potty trained and becomes fixated on stimulation to a certain..."
"Danny!"
"I'm just saying, maybe if you got your... stimulation out of the way, you wouldn't be seeing imaginary spots on the stainless steel. AND you'd have more time for the important things in life. Like my hair."
Shutting the dishwasher with a clank of pots, Jensen considered hanging his dish cloth over the rail, rethought that, and ducked around the corner into the laundry room, tossing the rag into the open hamper. "I'm doing your hair a huge favor by leaving it alone, which is what I've been telling you to do for years."
He was so not touching the subject of 'stimulation.' No pun intended. Danneel would be surprised just how much a guy could do all on his own, but he wasn't about to be the one to enlighten her. She'd convinced herself that her worldly knowledge was what kept him hanging around. He was pretty sure that was exactly why none of her actual boyfriends ever did, but Jensen was more of a 'live by example' kind of teacher, never blessed with the ability to form anything remotely resembling wisdom with his tongue. Whatever eloquence he may once have had vanished when he was sixteen and his mother decided spring cleaning entailed stripping every room in the house, including his bedroom.
How do you explain to a mother what a teenage boy needs a vibrator for? And how do you explain to a teenage boy why his mother mistakenly thinks he took it from her room? You don't, which is why he specifically asked the cleaning service to send over a guy instead of a woman. He was not attempting that conversation with anyone of the female persuasion ever again. A guy he could deal with. He'd heard more graphic sexual details in the locker room at school, and if he wasn't used to the judgmental 'queer leer' by now, he never would be. He just considered himself lucky to have found a service that actually employed guys. It'd taken him forever to track one down. In the end, he'd gotten the card for UndertheRug.com from one of his clients. New guy, kinda hot with wild, unruly hair and blue eyes. Collins? Oh yeah, Misha. Jensen remembered, because the dude kept anwering his phone while he was in Jensen's chair, "This is Misha," and Jensen had barely managed not to mime, "Misha, Misha, Misha," behind his back. Professional courtesy was apparently running short that day. It sometimes did when the client was especially... appealing, which was probably why most of Jensen's regulars were women.
"You don't mean that, baby," she cooed. "I'm your number one client."
"I'm your drug dealer. Everyone knows you get off by using the most expensive shit on the market. And I'm the only reason you can afford it."
She pouted. "What girl doesn't like to pamper herself?" An ominous pause in which Jensen actually heard her lips twist into a leer. "Besides you, I mean."
"Sweetie, you are my luxury. Having you sitting there saves me tons on decorating expenses, not to mention lighting." He swiped the crumbs out from under her saucer and into the sink. "Now eat up and get your ass out. You are not fawning over the housekeeper when he shows up."
"Why not?" She ate her pizza by twirling the cheese around her finger like it was another strand of hair. "'Ts not like you left him anything to do."
"And you're volunteering, I know." He tried not to sound disheartened, but he really wished she didn't work so hard on her doormat impersonation. She was better than that. Deserved better than that. She must've heard something in his voice, anyway, because she made that little noise he loved, half whimper, half squeal, and slid down off the chair.
He didn't look up from the sink while he chased the last of her crumbs down the drain with the scouring powder and brush he was using to clean it. Her arms slipped around his waist and she kissed the back of his neck before laying her head between his shoulder blades, thumbs stroking over his stomach. "You're way too good to me, baby," she sighed, then smacked him on the shoulder before smoothing out the wrinkle that made in his shirt. "And you're way too good to be alone."
"I'm perfectly happy with my life." He might've sound a little gruffer than he intended and probably scrubbed a little harder over water stains only he could see, but he meant it.
"Yeah, well, I'm not happy with your life, but damn if I know how to fix it."
"Then don't."
They exchanged pecks on the cheek, and she left.
"I'm perfectly happy with my life." Funny how he said it aloud when there was no one there to hear it but himself. When it echoed back at him from inside the fume hood, he said, "I am." Like arguing with himself had ever been less than futile.
--
"Chadrick the Great. You ask, I receive, so before you even start, I gotta ask, what's in it for me?"
Jared resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall. It was a fucking expensive phone. Company bought the first one, but replacements were all on him. "One emergency colonoscopy via big toe cam if you don't shut up. I'm freaking out here."
"Jared, I told you, don't sign on for full duties if you're not up for it. Not everyone's cut out for the big time. Misha understands that, but cutting out on a gig is the fastest way to get you canned." Water sloshed in the background.
"I'm up for it. That's not the problem," Jared insisted, "and please tell me you're not taking a bath."
"Fine, then I'm definitely not naked and slathered in vanilla-scented bubble clouds at this very moment." A statement which was immediately nullified by more sloshing water and the sound of bubbles being huffed away from his mouth. Jared knew Chad well enough to know he had a full bubble beard and mustache at that point, not to mention giant tits and a codpiece. "But I gotta say, I'm way prettier than most of our clients, so if you've got a problem with the visual of me naked and soaking wet, then you definitely shouldn't have taken this gig."
"That is so not the problem," Jared laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I hate to break it to you man, but this Ackles guy is way hotter than you."
"I find that impossible to believe, but I'll humor you on this. So, what is the major catastrophe? I showed you all the manuals. You said you had it figured out."
"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I've got all your gay porn burned into my frontal lobe. I'm good." Jared shuddered, not so much from the actual porn images in his mind, but from the idea that Chad considered them educational.
"So hang up and get down to business, cowboy. The first time's the hardest, but believe me, once that's out of the way, it's all smooth sailing."
"That's the problem! He left!"
"Who left?"
"Jens... the client! Ackles!" Jared scrubbed a hand through his hair, spun around to face himself in the full-wall mirror behind the dining room table, and fuck if he wasn't getting pit stains from the stress. "He gave me a tote full of cleaning supplies, an apron, a duster, and the grand tour of his... freakin' spotless condo, and then excused himself." He changed the phone to his other ear, because he's made the first one sore by applying too much muscle. "Get this, said he had to go to his campus Bible study group. He's in charge of the music."
The slosh of water on the other end of the line resembled the sound a sea lion made when it heaved itself out of a pool at Sea World, leaving no doubt that Jared's words were finally striking some portion of Chad's brain. "I know, right?" Jared huffed, panic bubbling in his chest.
Chad's word were muffled, probably by a towel as he cleared the bubbles from around his mouth. "That's... um... I don't think I have a manual for that."
Clasping his elbow like the phone weighed a ton and still leaning his head down shoulder level to speak into the receiver, Jared ended up leaning against the mirror, jerked away when he realized his might smear it. "You don't think he actually wants a housekeeper, do you?"
"What?" A moment of contemplative silence. "No. No fucking way," Chad said. "Sure the listing is cryptic. You've gotta be subtle if you want to draw in the big spenders. Can't exactly put up a banner ad that says 'Tail for Sale-- Floors, Countertops, Tubs, Tiles and Windows-- no surface we won't do you on, over, or against.' But this guy was referred by Misha, right?"
"Yeah."
"So no way he's that far off base."
"I dunno, Chad," Jared huffed, biting at his thumbnail. "Misha's..."
"Kind of a smartass," Chad finished. "I know, but he's still a professional. The last thing he needs is someone walking into a meetup unaware and blowing the whistle on the whole business. No. Look around. There's gotta be some kind of clue. Maybe he left you a list or something. A costume, maybe?"
Jared spun around, nearly knocking over the tote of (completely useless) cleaning supplies. "No! There's nothing. This place is spotless, just wall to wall mirrors and stainless steel."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, mirrors?" Chad asked.
"Yeah. Guy said he was a little claustrophobic. The mirrors make the space seem bigger."
"And you believed that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Jared returned, his voice at least half and octave higher.
"Let me guess," Chad ventured. "Did he ask you not to clean the glass?"
"Well, yeah, but I guess a lot of services refuse to do glass and windows. I thought he was just playing along."
Jared's blood froze, Chad's response a low, groaning chuckle. "Jared, dude. You got yourself a real kinkster, there."
Hand to his hip, "What... whattaya mean?"
"Two-way glass, newbie. Classic voyeur."
"Um," Jared mulled that over, now pointedly looking away from the mirror only to find himself looking into the one on the other side of the room, and ended up covering his brow with his hand, focusing down on the floor. "Um, okay, so, voyeurs... they like to watch, right?"
"You got it."
Lowering his voice to a whisper, "And you think he's watching me right now?"
"I sure don't think he's leading a prayer group," Chad huffed, and now Jared could hear the last of the bathwater siphoning down the drain.
"Well, what do I do?!" It was hard to yell without, you know, actually yelling, and Jared could've pulled his hair out from frustration.
"Give him something to watch."
"Like what?"
"If I have to tell you, then you're really not cut out for this job." The phone call ended on what Jared could've sworn was a maniacal cackle.
"Fuck." Jared snapped the phone shut and stood stock still, eyes on the floor as he contemplated his next move. Then, "Fine."
He wasn't about to walk out on his first male client. He'd never live that down, and he needed the fucking money. The guy liked to watch, Jared would give him a show. Squaring up his shoulders, Jared lifted his gaze, dragged smokey eyes up his own reflection until he met himself face to face, and reached for his belt buckle.
TBC
A/N: Yeah, comments are disabled. This is not to stop anyone from voicing a constructive criticism, only to save me the anguish of watching my inbox. : / I'll update when I get a chance. Running and work are taking up most of my time these days, but if I don't post what I have, I'll never get it off my hard drive. I'll try to update no less than twice a month. Another chapter of Digging Deep should be up this weekend. Feel free to track if you don't want to miss an update. Thanks so much for reading.
