A/N: Thank you, fellow single, broke, horny chicks. Everybody was oh, so kind to leave such sweet reviews about my 'masterpiece'. I was shitting hot bricks (Sera's not the only one who knows how to do that) at the thought that I haven't put out a slash warning. I was waiting for the 'Eww, that is so gross' and 'They are not gay' and 'Why don't you get a life and stop spreading deceitful lies'. Imagine my disappointment. I didn't get a single one. Not a single one. I do so find them amusing, but the fandom held out on me. What is wrong with you chicks? Where are the rabid fans? Tsk, tsk, so sad. Maybe the rabid ones can't read. Or maybe, my loverlies, there are more slashers in the world than garden variety females. The evil thought warms my sinful heart. Hear me now, ladies; a new age will dawn where slashy gals (and their pervy kinks) will take their natural place in the world. All pole-dancers and secretaries will be men. Oprah will be replaced by a man with puppy-dog eyes. The swine sitting at the head of the breakfast table looking smug and ungrateful and reading the morning paper will be some gal. All women, who are plump and covered in eye-catching stretch-marks, won't give a flying fuck about it. Why? Cos in the new age, it will not be our job to look sexy. Long pants will be banned. All men will wear short shorts...and name tags showing who they belong to. That means, in the future, Misha will be somebody's minion. Men, the world over, will meet up with their friends at lunch to discuss their emotions and the latest carb-free diet. And we won't notice that they've lost a pound or two, because we are too busy fucking the secretary…who looks like Jensen…who only wears short shorts. All hail the sisterhood of the slashers – women so randy, we make succubae look like saints. Bwahahahaha (cue evil taking over the world music)
A/N#2: I typed so much in the first author's note that now my fingers bloody hurt and I used up a sizeable portion of my good jokes. Feck it.
A/N#3: Feck is Scottish for fuck. If your cheap-ass Brit, you would probably say 'Fock' (no, really). If you fecking ask me, the European versions sound focking funny. I'd go to the U.K. just to hear them swearing. Rich people in Britain don't swear. They do say 'I am appalled' a lot. I'll choose the focking poor ones over the fecking rich ones. Cos they sound totally righteous, dude. Now let's get this effing show on the road.
A/N#4: I left the arse-end of this masterpiece unbetaed. And I did it on purpose.
Chapter Two
Tom slowly stood up, holding his smarting cheek with an impeccably manicured hand. He was shocked. It had never occurred to him that somebody might actually consider smacking him across the face. Jeff stood there fuming. Richard came to stand by his side, smirking. He patted Jeff on the shoulder, showing his approval. Sebastian also patted Jeff (on the arse, because he's Sebastian). Misha was pissed because he hadn't thrown the punch. Jensen stood way back. Poor thing was suffering from Shrunken Balls Syndrome, a debilitating condition with no cure. Tom looked at Jared's suitors. They were glaring at him angrily. Even lily-livered Jensen was shooting daggers at him from far, far away. Tommy took a precautionary step back, making a mental note not to hit on a babe with four admirers…five, if you count yellow-bellied Jen. Jared rushed up to them. He was confused and upset. These were all his friends. And they were fighting. He couldn't wrap around it. But then again, Jared couldn't wrap his mind around many things.
"What happened?" Jared sounded so young and fragile and broken and his lips were still swollen and Sebastian would have tongued him right there if Misha hadn't held him back. Really, how did Sebastian get anything done with that kind of sex drive? Still, must be fun living with an Eveready battery like that. Misha shook his head violently. Where the fuck did that idea come from? 'Focus', Misha thought, 'concentrate on the puppy and leave that fucking devil-child alone.'
"Don't worry, Jay." Jeff rumbled, menacing but calm, "Tom was just leaving. Weren't you, Tom?"
Tom didn't say a word. He had planned on kissing Jared good bye, but he was starting to see fuzzy doubles. He couldn't even see the youngest J, let alone locate his lips. And his throbbing cheek told him not to fuck around with these mad men. His P.A. had run and hid behind a tree, laughing, as soon as Jeff's fist had reached its destination. Now, the P.A. was praying that Tom hadn't heard him. Tom, because his vision was fucked up, was dragged away from the set to his car, by the P.A. who was still trying hard not to snigger.
Charlie almost had a seizure. Can you say lawsuit? Fortunately, Sera was chums with her boss Dawn Ostroff and told her about what had happened. Dawn blew a gasket. That Kryptonian Pervert had his filthy tongue all over sweet, innocent, perfect, beautiful, and thick as bricks Jared. Dawn told Sera, 'if you cause another threat to darling Jared, I'll see to it that the only job you get is washing up dishes at the Red Lobster'. Sera didn't doubt that. Dawn was evil. The boss-lady said she'll take care of Tommy-boy and his lawsuit. And how did she do that? She called his parents and told them about their randy son. They, in turn, called their 'sick, twisted' son and tore him a new one for touching 'poor, helpless Jared and taking advantage of his under-utilized brain. Tom was bawling his eyes out by the time mommy and daddy were through with him.
Back at the zoo, Charlie was asking Jeff what the hell had gotten into him.
"He took advantage of Jared." Jeff boomed, "And he was gloating about it."
Jared was standing right there, scratching his head. Was Tom really taking advantage of him? Well, the guy had frenched him. Jared's jaw dropped. The guy had taken advantage of him. Jared felt so cheap and dirty. He was grateful that Jeff had been there to fight for him.
"I don't care what you thought he was doing." Charlie grated "There are fifty other people around. How can he do anything with so many people around?"
"Because he is a whore, that's how?" Jensen's voice piped up from behind a trailer.
"Jen, quit hiding, you idiot." Charlie grated…again "Now, I know that you boys have rivalry issues and I can respect that. I mean I can't blame y'all. After all, just look at him."
Every jaw belonging to any ear within listening distance dropped. Jensen went flying at Charlie screaming 'you floozy'. Rob Singer and Lou Bollo pushed Jensen away, sending him flying face first into Misha. Misha grabbed his broken nose, throwing a kick at Lou, only to have McG trip him. Sebastian's blood boiled. Nobody, and I mean nobody, fucks with Misha except me, he grunted. Misha sat up, mildly dazed and mostly embarrassed, watching as Sebastian gave Mc a mother of a wedgie. Misha's heart fluttered, but he stilled it, because, hello! Feline-eyed sex-bomb standing right there, thank you. It became a full-on battle: cast versus crew. Richard kicked a cameraman on his arse and ran away. The irate cameraman gave chase. Jensen had Charlie in a headlock. Charlie grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it into Jensen's face. Rob flung Jeff into a trailer. McG was sitting on the ground, holding his arse and cursing the sadistic son of the bitch who discovered wedgies. Misha twisted the boom operator's nipples, eliciting a wolf-like howl from the poor man – who wasn't even fighting anyone. Well, he was now. Three extras, who were technically part of the cast, and wanted to join in the fun, picked up pies from the crafts tables, aiming and throwing at crew men in the battle field. Jared, for whom the penny had finally dropped, ran to get help. Everyone on set was busy kicking each others lights out, except for one guy. And he was the only one who could control these maniacs.
"ENOUGH!" Jim Beaver's voice boomed and almost instantly everyone stilled. Jim watched them all intently. What a macabre sight lay before him. Misha had two rivulets of blood running into his mouth, one from each nostril. Sebastian was in the middle of trying to lynch the boom operator. Richard came screaming into the battle zone, wronged cameraman in hot pursuit. They stopped, embarrassed, when they realized that the battle had come to an abrupt end. Jeff had bite mark on his sweaty neck. Rob made a mental note to brush his teeth later. Jensen was sitting on top of the prone Charlie, wearing a pie crust for a hat. Apparently, one of the extras couldn't throw for shit. The way he was smiling though, made you wonder if, he did it on purpose. Jensen shot him a dirty look. Jim shook his head. Normally decent men fighting like barbarians and covered in blood and pie filling and for what? This…this…Narcissus? A slow-witted Narcissus, but a narcissus, none the less. Jim was appalled. He was slightly British on his mother's side.
"What the fecking hell is going on here?" he was slightly Scottish on his father's side "I knew Jared was in trouble, but I had no idea, how much. Right! Everyone disperse. Go home. As punishment, tomorrow nobody talks to Jared or to each other. Give me one day, and I'll have this whole problem nibbled in the butt."
Jared, who had been standing behind Jim, fear-stricken, watched as everyone walked away, many stealing hungry glances at him. He was shattered. He had done this to them. If only, he wasn't so darn beautiful, maybe this would have never happened. He wiped away a tear that had fallen from his feline-inspired orbs and turned to follow Jim, who was gonna drive him home. On the way, Jim asked Jared if he liked even one of those clown. Jared said that yes, he did. Jim simply hummed his acknowledgment and kept on driving. He knew how to deal with this problem. The man was not just a pretty face. On the side of town, Clif shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Really, trying to soothe a paranoid actor who was crying shamelessly was not part of the job description. He was just the bodyguard, dammit.
"If Jim falls in love with him, too" Jensen squeaked "I just kill myself."
Jensen threw himself, dramatically, onto the seat and started crying even louder. Clif sighed. He needed to buy Tylenol, before going home…
"Tylenol?" Misha asked, gawking at the devil-child, standing at this front door. He looked at the brand new pack of painkillers in his hand. Sebastian (and this was a first) looked all blushy.
"Yeah...Everybody needs to pull their shit together. Just in case…y'know…if Eric pays a visit tomorrow. If Jim calls him, he'll pitch up… er… everyone's gotta look sharp, or he'll be pissed. So…I brought you the Tylenol for…the sake of the show. Yeah…okay…goodbye."
Misha stood, mouth having open, watching the devil-child's uncomfortable looking form retreating into the night. Misha blushed. When Sebastian found a wall to hide, he…well, he hid… and watched. Misha, oh Misha. That Russian love-muffin had no idea that symbolically he holding a piece of Sebastian's heart in his hand. Tylenol had never been used to convey love before…but there a first time for everything, I say. Richard locked his apartment doors and windows. The wronged cameraman, armed with a paddle, was stalking him.
End of Part Two
A/N: Okay, fine. Call me a lunatic. I just didn't thinking this focking fic would go over two chapters. It's that damn Jared. If he wasn't so feckable, my story would have ended sooner.
A/N#2: I would like Jim to nibble my butt, thank you.