Fic: Axl Rose Never Looked So Good (Teaser)

[dancing_adrift]

Title: Axl Rose Never Looked So Good (on AO3)
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Characters: Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles (with appearances from: Richard Speight Jr., Rob Benedict, Danneel Harris, Aleks Paunovic, Tahmoh Penikett, Matt Cohen, Timothy Omundson, Gil McKinney, Osric Chau, & Misha Collins)
Word Count: ~ 16.5K Full Version on AO3
Disclaimer: Though based off real people, these characters and this story are in no way meant to be representative of fact. Fiction ftw.
Original Post Date: April 17, 2016 on AO3 (Only the first two scenes are below. To read the rest of the story, please visit my AO3 page. Thank you, and enjoy! :)

Summary: Jared and friends are biking through the Rockies on a multi-day road-trip for his 30th birthday. Jensen is the bartender at their last stop.

Author's Note: This was written as part of the "Selfie!Bang" - a challenge in which I, non_tiembo_mala, and gluedwithgold each wrote a fic based off the prompt below. This was an interesting experience for us, because we often can be very involved in each others' writing, from concept to beta; this time, however, we wrote completely separately, so everything about our stories was a surprise when we finally posted. It was really fun to see the variations and similarities that occurred. Plus, for me, it really pushed me to write more. This is the longest fic I've ever written, by a LONG shot, and I'm pretty proud of myself for being able to accomplish that. Anyhoo, enough from me. The opening two scenes are below; if you want to read the rest, it's all available on AO3. Thanks for checking it out! <3

Prompt: Jared's post-hiatus hair/rockstar!selfie posted to social media on 01/13/16.



Today is a Saturday. Today is also Jared’s birthday, and a pretty big one, at that. Studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror of some seedy motel at the foot of the Rockies, Jared raises one eyebrow at himself and contemplates what impact turning thirty might have on his life. People always seem to make a huge deal out of the big three-oh, but Jared doesn’t understand their fear, their anxiety about entering this particular decade. He doesn’t feel any older, and he certainly doesn’t feel old. Although, he considers as he strokes his full beard and watches the old man opposite him do the same, the faceful of hair certainly does seem to age him significantly. It’s no surprise that his friends have been teasing him all week, calling him ‘Mountain Man’ and ‘Paul Bunyan’, or adding onto his usual nickname of JT, declaring him ‘JT the Lumberjack.’ The monikers are certainly warranted - Jared can grow a mighty fine beard, and he’s rather proud of the attention it garners - but it’s time for a change.

Every June, despite the warmer weather of summer, Jared stops shaving and just lets his facial hair go. Then, after a month and a half of growing it out, he shaves it all off on his birthday to celebrate making it to another year and to signify a fresh start. It’s become a bit of a thing, though, for him to shave it a bit… creatively on the very first day just to have some fun with it. Jared laughs a bit at himself - perhaps that silly tradition is part of what keeps him feeling young, and he’s totally okay with that. Today is that day - day of birth, day of ritualistic beard removal - but as he stands there staring blankly at his overgrown, hairy face, he still has no ideas as to what this year’s design should be. Even though he doesn’t feel that turning thirty is a momentous thing, it still seems like he ought to do something special to commemorate the occasion, and he’s stumped.

Jared is still moping about in the tiny bathroom - lean, toned body clad only in boxer-briefs and white ankle socks, propped up against the sink and having a staring contest with himself, still lost in thought - when there is a loud knock on his motel door. The steady hammering goes for three rapid-fire beats, a slight pause, and then repeats once again in the time it takes Jared to stumble into a pair of gray sweatpants and holler “Just a second!” at his insistent visitor.

He doesn’t even stop to check the peep-hole before he flings the door open - for the past three days, he’s been motorcycling east towards and through the Rockies, a bit of a birthday road-trip, with eight of his closest friends; they’re on their return trip now, and he knows for a fact that their group makes up a vast majority of the small motel’s current tenants. The door swings wide to reveal a man slightly shorter than Jared (specifically, 5’8 to his 6’4 - almost everyone is shorter than Jared), but with a mane of shaggy, shiny brown hair and a beard to rival his own. His friend Richard’s warm, amber-hazel eyes sparkle with their usual mischief as he grins up at him from the cement sidewalk.

“‘Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty!” Richard grins widely at Jared, and hauls him into a surprise hug, his beard tickling Jared’s bare chest and his hand slapping his back in two solid pats before he pulls away, leaving Jared reeling a bit, but still smiling stupidly down at him. “I see you still haven’t shaved that bush off your face, birthday boy. What’s takin’ ya so long? Afraid of what you’ll find underneath all that hair?”

Jared just throws back his head and laughs, then returns fire with some good-natured ribbing of his own.

“Nah, just can’t make up my mind. What’s your excuse, old man?”

Jared’s barb doesn’t even phase Richard; something Jared loves about his dear friend is his quick wit and whip-sharp ability to think on his feet.

“Oh, nononono, don’t go playing that card with me, boy. I keep this masterpiece on my face to remind you peasants that you can never hope to achieve such manly perfection, therefore keeping you all humble. You ought to be thanking me.”

Richard makes his declaration with wide eyes and a completely straight face, which only succeeds in making Jared huff out another burst of laughter. He just shakes his head in amused fondness for his friend and moves their conversation along.

“So, what’s with the non-wake-up call? You guys itching to get going or somethin’? Thought we didn’t have to leave until eleven?”

Today is the last full day of their trip - an entire afternoon of nothing but open road and panoramic views of the stunning countryside, followed by one more night at a roadside motel before their final journey home tomorrow. The fact that their trip is coming to an end - a sad thought, since Jared has been enjoying every moment so far - paired with today being his actual birthday, means that Jared has been looking forward to taking his time; he’s in no rush to return to reality, not yet.
“Well, yeah, that’s still the plan; no need to fret, Mooserella, we won’t make you leave the ball one second before midnight.”

Jared rolls his eyes; Richard ignores him as usual and continues.

“Rob and I were just talking about catching some breakfast at the diner down the road, figured we’d see if anyone else was interested, including you, Your Tallness,” he finishes with a mocking little bow. Jared pushes at his shoulder in pretend-offense with a mumbled ‘jackass’ at the teasing. As Richard fumbles to regain his footing, his usual snarky smile still firmly in place, Jared glances up over the top of his head to where Rob sits on his bike, grinning broadly beneath a curly mop of brown-and-gray hair and aviators that hide his eyes, their usual brilliant blue replaced instead by the summer morning sky reflected in the mirrored shades. His good friend - and Richard’s unexpectedly innocent partner in crime - gives a jaunty little wave from his Harley and shouts cheerfully across the parking lot, “Happy birthday, J-man!”

Jared yells out his thanks, giving a wave of his own in response, and returns his attention to where Richard is waiting, uncharacteristically silent and patient.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to get breakfast with you guys. But I still gotta shave, man. Maybe I can meet you there? Say, maybe, fifteen minutes?” Surely he can figure out something suitable - fun and, preferably, but not necessarily, stylish - and trim his hair accordingly in that amount of time. Perhaps a Google image search will help… ?

“Sure man, no prob,” Rich parries, interrupting Jared’s thoughts. Then he pulls a folded square of cloth from his back pocket, giving it a little shake to reveal a gray-blue handkerchief with a muted tie-dyed pattern of circles on it. He offers it to Jared.

“Found this in the little gift shop up by the front desk, thought maybe you’d get a kick out of it. Perhaps with it lies the answer to your beard-trimming quandary?”

Jared accepts the gift and a corner of his mouth turns upward in amusement as he inspects the bandanna, the broad swath drab, yet cheerfully reminiscent of one of Jared’s favorite musicians growing up. It immediately brings a picture to his mind of how he can shape his facial hair, and he chuckles at the thought. If you can’t be a rock-star on your 30th birthday, when can you, eh?

“Dude, yes. This is perfect; thanks, man.” Jared grins a full-dimpled smile at Rich and gives his friend’s shoulder a quick squeeze, his new head-wear for the day in hand.

“You’re welcome,” Richard replies magnanimously. “Happy birthday, bro. See you down the road in a few - we’ll keep the coffee warm for ya, okay?” With a farewell pat to Jared’s bicep, Richard spins on his heel and saunters toward where his bike is parked beside Rob. Then, with a saucy salute from Richard, they push their helmets over their heads, flip up their kickstands, and give Jared a nod each before they’re roaring over the highway in the direction of the diner. Jared smiles after them for a moment, then turns back inside the musty motel room with fresh determination to embrace his birthday properly. He grins into the mirror as he readies his electric razor - he’s going to celebrate in style, just like the icon of the eighties he’s about to become. Rock on.


***


Jensen notices the Axl Rose wannabe from the very first second he steps into the bar. Granted, as the main ‘tender of the establishment - the only hole-in-the-wall serving alcohol in a fifty mile radius -, it’s kind of his job to keep an eye on his customers. This particular patron is pretty hard to miss though - especially with that, quite frankly, god-awful facial hair and bandanna, the very first features to catch Jensen’s attention (thus the immediate association with the lead singer of Guns N’ Roses). Jensen’s mild disgust with the man’s poor shaving choices is short-lived, however; it distracts him only for a few short moments - then something makes the man laugh and the dim bar is suddenly lit up by a stunning, blindingly white smile bracketed by the deepest dimples Jensen’s ever seen.

A soft ‘Oh my god’ to his left yanks Jensen’s attention away from the startling allure of the man’s infectious laughter and sparkling eyes, forcing him to shift his gaze to his best friend and part-time co-worker standing beside him. Danneel, the woman responsible for the gasp that brought him to his senses, is fixated on the man as well, and when Jensen turns around to continue his observance of their newest customer, it’s not difficult for him to discern what exactly it is that holds her attention. Jensen and Danneel have been very close friends for a good many years now, and he knows a lot - more than any man not sexually involved with her ought to - about what gets her motor running. To say that Danneel has a size kink is a bit of an understatement, and with the approximately nineteen feet of pure man in the shape of Axl and his two, even taller friends now following him into the bar, Jensen’s guessing that Danneel’s panties will very soon be in need of changing, if they aren’t already. That’s not to say that the three men’s overwhelming presence doesn’t do anything for Jensen; at 6’1, Jensen’s no slouch, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being with someone taller than him, someone capable of being in control despite his own sizable height. He and Danneel both appreciate large men for their own reasons, but their effect on Danneel is much more… pronounced.

A towel landing damply on his shoulder snaps Jensen away from his musings, and he turns towards Danneel in protest just as she slips away from him and strides to the end of the bar, her most alluring smile firmly in place as she brightly greets their newest guests. There’s about eight men now - most of them much more averagely-sized - all pooling in the entry of the bar behind their behemoth leading trio, with Axl seemingly the center focus of the group. The two giants at his sides - one, a hulking beast of a man with laughter-lined eyes and hair going gray, distinguished-like, around the edges; the other a chiseled Adonis, square-jawed and fair, with eyes just as cunning - both beam broadly down at Danneel as she halts in front of them, their matching smiles leaving little doubt that they fully reciprocate her eager interest in them. Axl smiles down at her too, but just in a friendly way that carries no traces of anything more. Jensen’s eyes narrow slightly as he notices this lack of… well, lust in the other man; Danni is a damn fine looking woman - even Jensen can acknowledge this, and he doesn’t swing that way. That the newcomer isn’t immediately pulled in by her thousand-watt smile and other charming… attributes… is a very interesting observation that Jensen mentally catalogs for later analysis.

Jensen watches as Danni leads the group to two large tables over near the darts and starts taking drink orders. The Titan-trio, as Jensen has dubbed them, take a menu and start poring over it, gesturing widely with their large hands as they discuss food options. Another three men - the first, brown-haired, with a glorious beard to match and a mischievous glint in his eye; the second, slightly shorter, a nervous tinge to his smile and touches of gray beginning to show at his temples; and the third, with a shock of black, unruly hair over a breathtakingly beautiful face with an equally stunning body evident under his tight t-shirt and slim-fitting jeans - place their orders, all with varying levels of charm in their smiles of thanks to Danneel, and then move to the pool table in the center of the room, the youngest one racking the balls while the other two select their cues. A man with a full head of silver hair and a beard that is nothing short of majestic makes his request with an accompanying little bow, his ringed hands steepled together in a way that gives him an air of almost nobility. He leans against the table behind him and watches two of his companions, the last of their group, set up for a game of darts. The taller of the pair is handsome in a very classic way, his dark hair parted on the side and slicked back, his simple white t-shirt and skinny jeans somehow managing to look dressy despite their inherent casualness. Clearly the youngest of their group is an Asian kid with a broad grin perpetually on his face; his arms are well-muscled beneath a purple graphic tee and he runs with a handful of darts to the starting line, with an exuberance that almost makes Jensen dizzy just to watch him. It’s a very attractive crew, and they seem to be of a mind to have a good time, but Jensen’s attention keeps drawing back to the center, to Axl. At one point, Axl catches him staring and they both quickly look away, a faint blush staining both their faces.

“Seeing something you like there, Jen?”

Jensen nearly jumps out of his skin when Danneel appears at his side, her mouth drawn in a smirk that makes it clear she already knows the answer to her question. She starts pulling glasses from the cupboards above the bar, her high heels giving her the few extra inches she needs to be able to reach them without a step-stool. She lines up the glasses of varying shapes and sizes, pointing to each one in turn, rapidly listing the beers meant to fill them. Jensen immediately goes to work at the taps, pulling the handles in a well-practiced way and achieving perfect pours on a series of IPAs, brown ales, and one porter. Meanwhile, Danneel turns to the fridge against the wall to retrieve a couple American lagers, bending at the waist and giving the patrons already seated at the counter a rather nice view. One regular gives an appreciative wolf-whistle, and when she stands back up, two frosty bottles clutched in one hand, she blows the man a kiss with her other, perfectly manicured fingertips pairing with a cheeky wink to achieve maximum flirtatious effect. She then grabs a large serving tray and begins arranging the drinks and a couple bowls of peanuts on its plastic surface.

“You didn’t answer my question, babe. You got the hots for one of our bikers?”

Jensen drags the towel from his shoulder and starts wiping away the rings of condensation on the counter left by the freshly poured glasses of beer. When Danneel makes no move to deliver her drinks, Jensen sighs and turns, leaning back against the bar and meeting his friend’s conniving gaze. He raises one eyebrow at her as what she’d said sinks in.

“Bikers?” He hadn’t gotten that impression from their newest group, though as he glances back over his shoulder at them, he registers an abnormal amount of leather jackets draped over chair backs.

“Yeah, bikers. Hot, right? They’re on a road-trip back from the Rockies, some birthday thing for one of ‘em. That Axl Rose wannabe, I think.”

Jensen laughs at that.

“Right? That’s exactly who he reminded me of, too!” Jensen shakes his head, amused at their shared train of thought. A mind-meld that he regrets almost immediately when Danneel’s face breaks into an outright predatory grin of triumph.

“A-ha! I knew it! You do like him! Ha - do I know you or do I know you?” She presses the blood-red fingernail of her index finger dead-center into his chest, her face doing its best impression of the Cheshire Cat as she pushes by him to grab the drinks from the counter. Jensen spins, his body following her as she passes, and swings the arm holding the damp bar towel, snapping her in the ass with it. To her credit, she doesn’t fumble even the slightest bit at the impact, the tray remaining perfectly balanced as she just glares coolly back at him.

“Keep that up, Ackles, and I won’t help you find out if he plays for your team or not.” She arches one meticulously shaped eyebrow at him, silently waiting for his acquiescence which he gives with a curt nod and a faint blush in his cheeks; Danneel is the best wingman Jensen’s ever had, and she knows it. With a smug little smirk, she turns and walks away, the epitome of grace, her beauty and strength evident in the way she effortlessly carries the loaded tray across the room. Jensen tracks her with his eyes until she reaches the tables of bikers and begins passing out drinks with a bright smile for each grateful man. Jensen pays special attention to Axl, and is very pleased to note how he averts his eyes and flushes adorably when Danneel leans down low, giving a little wink as she hands him his beer. Jensen, satisfied with this turn of events, happily returns to wiping off the bar, now humming “Sweet Child O’ Mine” under his breath.

***

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