Word Count: 2040
Summary: Jensen is an Uber-driver. Jared is the lush that keeps ending up in his backseat.
Author's Notes: Written for smpc for the month of October. Prompt by the ever-lovely stolen_voices, inspired by Mr. Padalecki himself. Thanks to my bud fiercelynormal for the middle-of-the-night beta.
“Dude, if you barf in my lap, I’m making you sleep in the hallway because fuck.”
If someone had told Jensen six months ago that he would find the love of his life while the guy was mostly-unconscious in the backseat of his car, seconds away from ralphing all over his dubiously squinty-eyed best friend, he would have laughed in their face.
Jensen didn’t mean to become a glorified taxi driver.
Not that he’s that all the time, of course, considering that his graduate studies in Sports Medicine take up the majority of his time. But he has his own car and a shitload of books to buy, so when his buddy Kane suggests he apply to be an Uber driver as a side gig, Jensen figures why not?
It’s a college town, so the majority of his pickups are from the local dive bar that Kane runs. It’s an easy job, most of the time, usually running home wobbly girls in heels too high for them or frat dudes with glassy eyes and a slightly green tinge to their faces that inspires Jensen lower the back windows, just in case.
This Friday night is no different than usual. He’s just run home one of his regulars, a cute redhead named Danni who likes to goad her jealous girlfriend into makeup sex by staying out late to make her extra feisty. She’s a talker when she’s tipsy, but she tips well and Jensen’s just bisexual enough to enjoy her super-TMI descriptions of events to come.
Jensen’s singing along softly with the radio as he pulls up outside the bar and idles it next to the curb long enough for the next clients to pile in.
The door is pulled open without much ado, and a large, limp body is being shoved into the backseat.
Jensen’s alarmed at first, but the body is quickly followed by the guy doing the pushing, a skinny kid with spiky blond hair and a perpetually raised eyebrow.
“Is he alright?” Jensen asks, looking over his shoulder at the mass now slumped against the passenger door.
The blond kid starts rearranging the other guy’s limbs until he’s in a mostly-sitting position and then grabs at his hair to look at his face. Seemingly satisfied for the moment, he turns back to Jensen.
“Yeah, he’s fine. Fucker’s taller than God, but can’t hold his liquor worth a damn.”
Jensen’s eyes begin to adjust to the dark enough to get a better look at the drunker half of the duo in his backseat. He swallows hard when he realizes Sleeping Beauty is probably the hottest guy he’s ever seen in his life, even while passed out cold.
The ride to what Jensen assumes is their apartment is short, no more than fifteen minutes this time of night without traffic. Most of the time is spent with the blond kid threatening his friend with egregious bodily harm if any vomit ends up on him, which soothes any mild concern Jensen might have had about Sleeping Beauty getting taken advantage of in his condition.
“You need help with him?” Jensen asks, pulling up to the front of the address specified.
Blondie shakes his head, pulling cash out of his friend’s wallet to pass to Jensen before dragging the now half-lucid guy out Jensen’s car and Jensen’s life.
Or at least that’s what Jensen thinks at the time.
It’s three weeks later, on another Friday, when Sleeping Beauty gets into the backseat of Jensen’s car again.
Though this time, he’s not so much asleep but he’s definitely still drunk. Happily so it seems, if the wide, dimpled – fuck, dimples--grin he shoots Jensen is any indication.
Blondie’s not with him this time, replaced instead by some douchebag with a crew cut wearing a polo shirt. He leans into Dimples a little too closely, hands wandering a little too low for Jensen’s liking.
“356 Walnut Drive, please,” Dimples says, face pursing adorably like he’s trying hard to remember his address through the booze haze.
“Nah, you’re coming home with me tonight, baby, remember?” Douchebag insists, moving his body even further into Dimples’ personal space.
“I told you not tonight, Stephen,” Dimples says, shifting a bit towards the door. Jensen can see the discomfort on his face in the rear view mirror, and it makes a muscle tic in Jensen’s jaw.
“55 Green Street, and step on it,” Douchebag says, ignoring Dimples’ protest as he throws out his own directions to Jensen, who is still idling by the curb and hasn’t moved the car an inch.
“Stephen, stop it, c’mon,” Dimples protests, voice low but firm as he attempts to push Douchebag’s now-wandering hands off of his thighs.
“Jared, stop being a little tease,” Douchebag hisses, and he must do something with his hand because Dimples makes a little wounded noise that hits Jensen right in the gut.
“Get out of my car,” Jensen says, before he can even think about what he’s doing.
Dimples’ head snaps towards the front and Jensen can see him biting his bottom lip in embarrassment before he starts opening the door.
“Not you, Jared. It’s Jared, right? Not you. Him.”
“Fuck you, man. Drive the car and shut your mouth,” Douchebag snarls, pushing Jared back into the leather and crossing his arms across his chest.
Jensen’s fingers are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that the tips are turning white. “Get out of my fucking car, or I’ll drag you out with my fists.”
The shocked blush on Jared’s pretty little face at his words is worth every single second that Jensen might have to spend beating the shit out of the polo-shirted dudebro.
Luckily, Douchebag is a coward, and climbs out of the car with a muttered “whatever, losers”, leaving Jared alone in the backseat.
“Thank you,” Jared says simply, his voice soft. The corners of his mouth are tipped up and the promise of his dimples are splashed across his cheeks. His cheeks are still pink, but Jensen doesn’t know if that’s from the liquor or the spectacle.
Jensen looks away, trying to hide his own blush as he smiles. “It was nothing.”
Fifteen minutes later, as Jensen pulls up to the same apartment as three weeks previous, he hears soft snores coming from the backseat and finds Jared dozing against the leather.
If only this really was Sleeping Beauty, Jensen muses, thinking of what it would be like to have the chance to kiss those lips awake.
It’s a few weeks later, and Jensen’s exhausted. Mid-terms are kicking his ass enough that he skipped the previous weekend driving and stayed in to study. He’s planning on doing the same thing this evening, but Kane calls him and tells him that there’s a kid asking about him at the bar and needs a ride.
Jensen’s heart is nearly thumping out of his chest as he drives over to the bar, even as he tells himself that he’s ridiculous for hoping that maybe the kid asking for him is Jared. After all, they’ve only met twice, and the first time was when he was passed out in another guy’s lap, so not exactly getting-to-know-you material.
He’s managed to so thoroughly convince himself that it’s not Jared he’s picking up, that by the time he’s pulling up to the curb and Jared is climbing into the backseat, he’s actually surprised.
“Hi,” Jared says, smiling shyly with lowered lashes. His chestnut bangs hang across his forehead, and Jensen’s fingers itch to lean back and brush them out of his eyes so he can make out their color.
“Hi,” Jensen replies, unable to stop the smile that spreads across his own face.
“How could I forget?”
Jensen’s grinning now, as Jared’s entire face turns red for a second before he’s laughing, great, gulping peals of laughter that make the indentations in his cheeks so deep that Jensen could put both thumbs in them and get lost.
“I’m Jensen,” he says, after a moment, when the only sound is the slight purring of the car engine, and the buzz from the heater.
“Good to know,” Jared quips, flirtatiousness replacing the shyness now. “I’ve been calling you Knight-in-shining-armor in my head, and that’s much too long to repeat every time.”
Jensen guffaws at that, thinking about his own little headcanon. “Kind of catchy though, don’t you think?”
“I could be. Caught, I mean. If you want.” Jared’s meeting Jensen’s eyes in the mirror, a hopeful expression splashed across his face.
“How about you get in shotgun and we get go find ourselves some burgers? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Jared’s springing into action before Jensen can even get the passenger door unlocked.
They find a 24-hour-diner a half hour away that serves thick-cut fries and black-and-white milkshakes thick enough to eat with a spoon. It’s two and a half hours, two life stories, and a serious case of footsie later when they stumble out of the diner and fall into the backseat of Jensen’s car where it all – technically—began.
“Oh god, you were so hot when you told Stephen off. If I wasn’t so drunk that night, I would have climbed your face,” Jared says, pushing Jensen back against the leather and jumping on top until his sweet little ass was pressing against the straining denim of Jensen’s jeans.
Jensen moans at both the sensation of his hardening dick against Jared’s body and the imagery Jared’s words are conjuring up. He wants that now, needs it even, right here in a darkened diner parking lot in the middle of the night.
“I want you to do it, c’mon. Want you to ride my mouth with that hot little ass of yours.”
“Fuck,” Jared huffs, hesitating only a second before he’s leaning his long body back enough to struggle out of his own jeans. It takes a second with the limited space and two guys well over six feet, but before Jensen can even catch his breath, Jared is moving his long, lean body up and waving tantalizing bare flesh .
“God, yeah,” Jensen gasps, hands curling around Jared’s lean hips and pressing into the meat of Jared’s ass. He doesn’t waste time, needs to get his mouth on his boy, as he cranes his neck up just enough to lick a stripe up the seam of Jared’s balls, hanging warm and fragile before him.
Jared makes a sound from above, but it fades in Jensen’s ears as he closes his eyes and gets lost in the sensation of flesh against his tongue. His fingers press into Jared’s ass, curving into the dimples on the sides, before sliding back to crack open the seam so his questing mouth can get to the intimate spot he’s seeking.
Jensen opens him up then, lips and tongue and hint of teeth working together, as Jared grinds down on the slick little muscle as it fucks him wet and loose. Jensen’s sliding one hand down now, one finger and then another joining his tongue inside, deep and then deeper as it tips of them find the right spot to make Jared cry out loudly in the silence of the car.
Jared comes like that minutes later, riding Jensen’s face and hand like he promised to do, Jensen’s still-clothed pelvis humping the air wildly all the while, trying to find relief that isn’t there yet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jared chants, as his entire body shakes with his orgasm. He slides off Jensen’s face, falling half off the seat as he attempts to yank Jensen’s button-fly open.
Jensen’s mouth is swollen and hot and the taste of Jared is still on his soft palate as Jared’s jizz-slicked hand finally wraps around Jensen’s cock. Half a dozen pulls later and Jensen is coming as well, his whole body thrumming with the sensation as Jared leans down to catch spurts of Jensen’s come on the plump pillow of his bottom lip.
As he pulls Jared up into his arms then, their quickened breath mellowing as they come down from their high, Jensen realizes that now is his chance to kiss those lips.
With any luck, he’ll have many more.