Two Become One That's not our song.
Jared/Jensen. High School AU.
R. 2900 words.
In which Jensen wears eyeliner, and Jared may be the Spice Girls' #1 Fan.
Yes, this is the goth!Jensen, Pop Princess!Jared fic. Further proof that one should never stay up late on Twitter with aldehyde, dugindeep, twofourteen, earthquakedream, and chez_amanda. Thanks to dugindeep for the beta!





Danneel keeps telling Jensen that he looks wicked good in eyeliner. He's not wearing it to look good—his eyes are the cracked windows to his damaged soul, alright? Lining them carefully every morning with a Maybelline Extreme Black eye pencil (seriously, the other stuff sucks or rubs off) is the best way to reflect his inner darkness.

Jared insists that Jensen's, like, super hot when he wears it. He also has a habit of smearing Jensen's black lipstick when they go out dancing—or go out anywhere—but Jensen's learning to get over that. Lipstick isn't that important, but Jensen enjoys freaking people out with the whole look.

And according to Danneel, Jensen's stark eyeliner, combined with his pierced ear and dyed three-shades-darker-than-necessary hair, spiked away from his forehead, would land him the hottest goth boys in Dallas.

How he ends up with six-feet-plus of bubbly, pop-loving artist is a mystery. Jensen digs artists. Angry swirls of paint, the abuse of color and medium to produce the unexpected and outrageous—that shit is awesome. But Jared is a photographer. His pictures are all nature and sunshine. Picnics with brightly checkered table cloths and puppies. For fuck's sake.

Jared's gotten good at applying the eyeliner. He's pulled himself up on the bathroom counter, Jensen standing between his knees, gripping his thighs. Eyes closed, the soft whisper of the pencil drags under his eyelashes. Then, Jared's fingertips press lightly to the corners of his eyes.

"There, perfect!"

Jared's up and out the door, waving for Jensen to hurry his ass up. He's got stickers on his face, glittery silver stars pressed to each cheek.

In the hallway mirror, Jensen notices that he has two stars at the corners of his eyes to match.

***

They sat at the same table in Mrs. McCarthy's advanced art class. Jensen figured he was going to go blind from Jared's pink polo shirt, but his jeans were tight across his hips and, well, that hadn't been so bad to look at.

"Do you know what you're doing for your senior project?" Jared was folding notebook paper into a fortune teller.

"Probably a mural."

"Seriously?" Jared asked, slipping his fingers into the paper folds to make sure it worked. "Like, on one of the school walls?"

"If they'll let me."

"Cool. What's it gonna be?"

Jensen didn't know, but he wanted something that would portray the torment of high school; the agony of spending four years in this Stepford prison with only Danneel to understand him. Something that hid a 'fuck you' in the dark paint.

"Not sure," he answered. "What about you?"

Jared was busy filling in the fortunes, adding embellishments with his pink highlighter. "Probably a photography portfolio. My dad just bought me a new camera."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I've been bugging him for a new one forever." He held up the fortune teller. "Pick a number?"

They both finished their still life sketches early; Jared's fortune teller ended up abandoned next to his charcoals, a little crumpled from when Jensen smashed it after his choices revealed he was going to end up as a lawyer, living in a house with a white picket fence.

"Feels like the bell was supposed to ring an hour ago," Jensen groaned, eager to cut out before his last period Health class. Danneel was probably at his car already, impatient to take off so she could visit her new boyfriend at the music store.

"I know, I can't wait. I have a yearbook meeting."

Something light tickled over Jensen's wrist. Jared had moved his attention from paper to skin, tracing out pink hearts on either side of Jensen's wide, studded leather cuff with his highlighter. Jensen yanked his hand away, smearing the last heart.

"Sorry." Jared ducked his head. "My hands have minds of their own."

"Sure, whatever."

Jensen stared at the hearts, full tops rounding out to a sharp point.

The bell rang.

***

"I bet Dani can get us beer." Jensen has to yell to be heard over the beat of the music.

"Nah, I'm good!" Jared shouts back even though Jensen already guessed the answer. While he might normally sneer and think prude when someone refuses good alcohol, Jared's pretty much high on life. He doesn't need anything extra to make him more hyper. Like now, Jared's cheeks are red and flushed from dancing and smiling all night.

Jensen's never known someone who grinned nearly all the time—it has to start hurting after a while, or something. But Jared's got at least twenty different kinds of smiles.

Jared yanks him closer on the dance floor, fingers tucked into Jensen's riveted belt. Jensen the outsider at clubs like this—dressed all in black like he wants to blend in with the walls. The black lights can't pick him out, a void next to Jared who's a burst of colors. Light jeans, every white thread illuminated by the black lights. Bright green t-shirt and a white collared shirt open over the top.

They would never dance like this at a school function, but plenty of clubs have 18-and-older nights. Jared loves the music and Jensen loves to get lost in the bass rhythm, like his blood gets pushed through his veins along with the beat. And Jensen's also starting to love Jared...a little bit.

"Oh Jen, I love this song!" Jared claps his hands and cheers, dancing like one of those wacky, flailing inflatable tube men at car dealerships.

"This song is terrible," Danneel argues, back from the bathroom At least next to her, Jensen's all-black ensemble doesn't stand out as much. The only color around Danneel is her wild red hair, waves down to her shoulder. "What d'you bet I can get us some beer?"

"I think we're good." Jensen looks at her. "But feel free!"

"Oh, I will." She shimmies her dark skirt so it sits lower on her hips, pierced navel peeking out.

"Come on," Jared yells when she's gone. "You're not allowed to stop dancing!"

Sure, Jared's really into the yearbook and running for student council, two things that usually send Jensen into a boredom coma, but he's never too busy to look over the sketches Jensen's made for the tattoo he wants. And Jared is most definitely the Spice Girls' Number One Fan, but he knows when Jensen's had enough of "I Swear" for one day, flipping the station to something more Jensen-friendly. All things considered, Jared is pretty Jensen-friendly, even if he doesn't own a single article of clothing that's black, or if he looks to Ginger Spice for life advice.

Together, they move easily with the crowds. Jared might be taller, but Jensen's broad, holding Jared's hips tight and close. No one pays them any mind, everyone in the club focused on their own moves, their own friends. Jared can kiss him right in the middle of the dance floor, and Jensen can let the rest of the world fall away until it's just the two of them.

That's exactly what they do.

***

"What's up, Count Ackles?" Ryan Addison punched his locker a few times until it popped open. "What'd you bring for lunch, blood?"

"Really? You're not sick of the vampire shit, yet?" Jensen's had to put up with Ryan having the locker next to him all four years of high school. Damn alphabetical order.

"Can't help it when you dress like a freak."

"Whatever." Really, black clothes and inventive accessories didn't make him a freak. Black was the absence of color, a space just waiting to be filled. Danneel dressed the same way and half the senior class drooled over her looks.

"Jensen, hey!" Jared's voice was easy to pick out in the busy hallway. He leaned his skinny frame against the lockers, smiling as usual, wearing a blindingly red shirt and flip flops.

"Jared, dude," Ryan cut in before Jensen could say anything. "Are you covering the game tonight?"

"Actually, I'm not." Jared rolled his eyes so only Jensen would see. "The drama club is having their fundraiser tonight and I need to get pictures."

"Dude, come on! We're playing Madison!" Ryan was unattractive in general, Jensen figured. When he whined, he was downright hideous. "You've gotta come."

"Sorry, Ryan. I'll get one of the other photographers to go."

Ryan huffed off after grabbing his lunch, joining the stream of seniors heading for the cafeteria.

"Do you want to eat lunch outside?" Jared asked, sticking around. "Mr. Evans told me I could eat in the courtyard if I wanted."

It was Jared's latest line to get them to spend time together. Before this year, Jensen never really noticed Jared—his friends were in a completely different circle, considering Jensen didn't even have a circle. They'd talked during Art and sat next to each other in World History, no one catching on to their unlikely friendship since it probably seemed too crazy to be real.

Jensen thought it was crazy, too. Especially when Jared smiled at him like he was doing now. It made him feel all kinds of strange things. Then again, strange things were Jensen's favorite kind.

"Sure."

"Awesome." Jared's smile got bigger.

***

Jensen notices the smell before anything else. His parents are gone for the weekend, taking his little sister with them to visit Jensen's aunt, uncle, and new baby cousin. No one's left in the house to be baking things, so there's no reason for him to smell light hints of vanilla drifting through the hallways.

He tracks the scent to his bedroom where Jared disappeared to half an hour ago, telling Jensen to wait in the family room.

"What are you doing?" Jensen's mouth drops, staring into his room.

"Surprise," Jared whispers, no exclamation hiding his nerves. He stands in the middle of the dark room, lit only by a dozen white candles placed amongst Jensen's things. Jensen's heavy shades don't let in any light, but the candles cast a flickering glow over the bed, dark sheets already pulled back. "I thought we were gonna—"

"Are you sure?"

They've been moving up to this for months. Kissing was their favorite activity for weeks, slow grinding into each other to learn the shape of their bodies before any clothes came off. Having a little more experience, Jensen taught Jared just about everything they could do together. Watching him return the favor on Jensen was amazing. And they're ready for this. Jensen loves him, and Jared loves him back for the same reasons. They see beyond the wrappings—all black or vividly colored—to the men they're going to become. For, and because of each other.

"Yeah." Jared comes closer, fitting himself to Jensen the way he always does. "I'm sure."

Their fingers wrap together, Jared's thumb brushing over Jensen's leather cuff. Jensen's fingers are pale on Jared's skin—he spends too much time indoors with his projects, and Jared worships the sun. Kissing slowly, Jensen shuffles them both towards the bed, pushing off Jared's layers as he goes. Before he flops down on the mattress, Jensen breaks from Jared's lips and listens.

"What the hell are we listening to?"

Jared blushes. "I thought, since it was our first time, that—"

"That you wanted to traumatize me?" Jensen teases. He pushes up and pops Jared's burned CD out of the stereo before Baby Spice's voice melts his hard on. "J2 - Our First Time. Really?"

"Shut up," Jared moans, muffled where he's turned and buried his face into Jensen's pillow.

"It's fine," Jensen says, flipping back to the radio. "How about this?"

Jared turns and winces at the rock music, heavy metal rifts not quite his taste. "Jensen..."

"Fine, okay." To compromise, Jensen turns the stereo off. "I just want to hear you, anyway."

First times aren't supposed to be perfect, but Jensen considers rewriting that theory. They have the house to themselves and plenty of time. The vanilla wax melts and fills the room with a soft scent, annoying at first but it fades with the heat building up between them. After making each other come once, they slide and press together, moaning and panting in the quiet. Jensen offers himself this time, completely willing to let Jared fuck him for their first time. It's a combination of false-starts, strange feelings, and a lot of making out when Jared isn't trying to concentrate.

When Jared's finally moving inside him, Jensen realizes just how well they know each other. Jensen's the one running his fingers over Jared's tense muscles, assuring him with words and touches that he's okay. But Jared lets go soon enough, surprising Jensen with just how enthusiastic he is, trying new positions without breaking apart.

Even with the edge off, they can't last very long. Which is okay, since Jensen's already thinking of how great the next time is going to be. Jared, too, if the way he's curling up around Jensen afterward is any sort of clue.

Jared's already asleep when Jensen whispers, "I love you." But he's sure Jared knows.

***

"When did you start wearing all the black?"

"I don't really remember," Jensen said. "It just, sort of, happened. You don't like it?"

"I like it. I don't think I really get it." Jared shifted back to lean on his elbows; except for them, the courtyard was empty. The light out here was better for their latest art project, but the bell was going to ring any minute, and they'd put their supplies away.

"I'm not trying to be cool, or anything," Jensen clarified, used to this kind of conversation.

"Oh, I know that. It's like you're a blank canvas or something. All that black, and you're just waiting to find someone—I mean, something—to show you what you want to do."

Right then, Jensen didn't know Jared was right. He heard the words, left them to settle in his head to pick up later.

"I guess," he replied, oddly flattered that Jared looked so deeply.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that you're empty or anything."

"I know, it's okay."

It was, and they sat quietly for a minute.

"Jensen?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you maybe want to go out with me on Friday?"

"Go out?" Jensen sat up, unable to meet Jared's eyes since he was looking at the grass. "Like, really go out?"

"Yeah," Jared muttered, uncharacteristically shy. He'd never struck Jensen as the type of guy to hide his emotions. "I think you're—well, I just really like you, okay?"

"Jared..." Jensen was waiting for this, he can't lie to himself.

"Come on," Jared tried, smiling. It was the twenty first grin Jensen cataloged, though this one was just for him. "I've noticed the way you stare at my ass."

Well, there was that.

"You saw that?"

"Dude, it's kind of obvious," Jared laughed. "And I've stared at yours once or twice."

"Only once or twice?"

They both broke down laughing and barely noticed the bell a minute later. Jensen walked away from class still smiling, and with a date for Friday night. Danneel was going to laugh her ass off at him.

***

At the end of the year, a selection of Jared's photographs get put up next to the main office—vivid shades of local scenery. There's even a puppy in one of them. Jensen prefers the photos Jared kept for himself. Pictures of the time Jensen finally got Jared to wear eyeliner. The ones Danneel took during their trip down to Galveston over Spring Break.

Jensen passes the framed images and smiles every time he's sent to the principal's office for cutting class. There are only a few weeks left in the year and Jensen's already been accepted to college—what's the big deal if he doesn't want to stick around for Health every day?

His mural takes up eight feet of wall space in the English hallway. The lighting could be better, but it's his space now, and will be long after he's left this school.

Just like he imagined, most of the mural is dark, blending to an in-your-face blood red that mixed well. The curls and whirls of the red reminded him of Danneel, blowing hot and cold for years but always Jensen's best friend. He'd even painted a quick 'fuck you' on the drywall before he painted over the words, smirking the entire time.

But it's not all dark. Towards the left side of the mural, Jensen had set aside the blacks and indigos, reaching instead for a lighter palette. A burst of color emerges from the darkness—greens and purples and yellows running to the edge of Jensen's space. He knows what it means. Jared knows what it means. Danneel, too, and she made fun of him for a solid hour before she laughed and hugged Jensen.

And in the corner, nearly hidden from all eyes, except those who know they're there, are two silver stars. Jensen even stole glitter from his little sister to mix in with the silver paint, to add these last details.

"Hey." Jared walks into the hallway from his English classroom, tucking papers back into his bag. "You ready to go? My mom offered to take us shopping for dorm stuff."

He stands next to Jensen, his eyes immediately tracking to the bottom left corner of the mural. Four years of high school in forty square feet, and only the last few inches really matter. Those, and the next four years they'll have at the University of San Diego.

"Yeah, let's go."


FIN.



HOLD THE PHONE! There's now a college!fic sequel...read What You Really, Really Want.

Okay, that was fun, I'm not gonna lie.