RockStarPeach

Title: Eighty-Three Bucks
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Summary: Jared's in love with Jensen. The only problem is, Jensen's a hooker and Jared can't afford him.

A/N: This turned out (after 4 years) to be a much longer story. See the MASTERPOST for details.

***
Jared thinks maybe he’s a little bit in love. And he knows that would be a more accurate statement if he took out the maybe and the little bit parts, because Jared is really and truly head over heels. It’s the first time it’s ever happened to him and logically he knows that it’s probably more infatuation at this point, but his heart doesn’t believe that for a second and his dick refuses to even consider it.

Sadly, the object of his affections doesn’t know he exists.

He’s almost talked to him a few times, when he’s passed him on the way into work, or when the guy had come into the store to buy a box of condoms or a cup of coffee, but Jared doesn’t really know what he’d say, so he’s mostly been content to just worship him from afar. Or, really close by and yet completely unnoticed, in that creepy stalker kind of way.

Jared will peek around the corner into the alley out back when he’s pretending to throw away garbage or get some fresh air, watch as the man of his dreams (wet and otherwise) is backed into the wall by some kid. The same kid at the same time every week – half past ten, every Wednesday, like clockwork and even when Craig doesn’t call him in, Jared goes anyway because he can’t fucking miss this.

He'll watch, rapt and mesmerized as a skinny seventeen year old in a bomber jacket (who's probably just dropped his girlfriend off at home) sinks to his knees. He'll watch and he'll whimper and he'll feel himself harden in his value brand chinos as the kid sucks down the most perfect dick Jared has ever seen. He'll watch, when after he's done the kid gets up and pushes a few bills into the pocket that has the title of ‘best pocket ever’ solely because it’s attached to the pants being worn by the most gorgeous man in the world. He'll watch the kid cop one last feel before he leaves.

Every week, the same thing. And then Jared will jerk off in the employee washroom.

Or Jared will absently arrange Batman comics where the Cheetos should go and watch through the window as his dream guy gets into car after car, comes back later – sometimes a couple of hours, sometimes only a couple of minutes – and he’s always smiling at the men after, always that grin that promises more of the same, any time they want, as long as they can afford it.

He’s not sure what the guy would say if Jared just asked him out on a regular date. Do hookers date? He doesn’t know, but he’s almost scared to find out. And unfortunately for Jared, there’s no way in hell he can afford it.

He’s fresh out of high school and the comforting warmth of his parent’s home, his bank account showing a pathetic sum of money as he works fifty hours a week and gets by on canned tuna, boxed mac and cheese and cheap vodka that he’s not old enough to buy, but Craig sells to him anyway.

Mostly he works as a clerk in the video shop at the end of the block, but sometimes he helps out at the rundown convenience store a few buildings over from his apartment. That’s rarer though, once or twice a week if he’s lucky and usually only when one of Craig’s regular guys calls in sick. Or hospitalised with a gunshot wound.

Jared doesn’t exactly live in the best neighbourhood.

And even though it makes him a horrible, horrible person, he hopes for those days.

Not that he wants anyone slowly bleeding to death from the abdomen, or delirious with fevers they can’t really afford drugs for. But those times, when he stops by Star Convenience early in the morning for some milk (which he gets half price because the best before date was yesterday) and Craig asks him if he can stop by for a couple hours after he finishes renting out Mallrats to the same guy for the eighth week in a row, Jared’s dick always jumps a little.

Because he knows he’ll get to see him again.

Some business owners would discourage a small group of prostitutes (one of whom doesn’t look like she could be more than sixteen) from hanging around outside their store, but Craig thinks they actually attract more customers than they scare off. Besides, he makes a lot of money off their business. The pregnant one smokes a lot.

***

Jared finds out his name roughly two months after he’s moved to town.

“Hey man,” he starts, forced, nervous smile pasted on as he tries to calm his shaky voice. Tonight's the night. They’re going to have an actual conversation, introduce themselves and if Jared can stop himself from blurting out ‘Will you marry me?’ maybe it’ll go well enough that they can try it again sometime.

He’s on his way to pick up a stray shift at the convenience store and the guy is standing outside like he usually is, one foot kicked up against the wall, shoulders relaxed with a half-drunk bottle of beer hanging loosely from the fingers of his right hand.

Jared swallows and slows his pace, trying not to trip over his own feet as he comes to a stop next to Mr. Perfect. He stands there like an idiot while the guy turns his face to Jared, smiles at him and it’s all Jared can do not to drop his pants right there.

“Hey,” the guy says back and it’s honey and sex and Jared blinks a few times before he realises it’s his turn to talk.

“Pretty warm for May, huh?”

Which is a stupid thing to say. Epic levels of stupid. Because first of all – of course it’s fucking warm for May. Jared hasn’t bothered putting on a sweater yet this spring, and the most perfect hooker ever is wearing a too-tight, too-thin t-shirt that rides up a little at the waist and his jeans are slung way too low. That couldn’t possibly be comfortable if it was chilly.

Also? Not even close to what he wanted to say.

“Yeah,” the guy says, smile dropping a little and he looks at Jared like maybe he’d only ended up there because he'd gotten on the wrong bus, or something. It’s obviously not what he was expecting Jared to say. “Cozy.”

That’s a little discouraging but Jared doesn’t let it get to him. This is the day he learns his name so he can imagine it embossed in silver next to his own on white wedding invitations. Or, you know. Just shout it out in his bedroom, when he jerks off thinking about all the things they could get up to together.

“I’m Jared,” he says, hand twitching at his side while he thinks about holding it out for the guy to shake. He aborts the gesture and just looks like he’s got a nervous tick. Fucking perfect.

“I’m…” the guy says, starts to answer and his smile hasn’t gone completely, but he’s still looking at Jared like he’s not quite sure if Jared wants to offer him money for sex, or ask for directions.

And then a car pulls up. Shiny and red and waxed to perfection and it's a friggin’ Cadillac, and Jared’s mouth goes a little dry.

“Maybe next time, huh?” the guy says, looking past Jared like he's not even there. The guy's smiling then, genuinely. Like he's happy about that stupid red car and the middle-aged man inside. “I gotta take this.”

And then he’s gone.

Jared’s still staring at the empty space on the road the car left behind, wondering what the fuck had just happened while he curses red Eldorados everywhere, when he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“I’ll blow you for fifty.”

The voice startles Jared out of his daze and he starts, jumps and thinks maybe he’s stood there so long he’s late for work. And then the words register.

He blinks a few times and shakes himself, looks at the guy who made the offer and considers that if he had fifty bucks on him, he’d probably pay it.

The guy’s not bad looking. Dark hair where the man of his dreams has a lighter brown and he's got a slimmer build and blue, blue eyes to his dream man's green. He's undeniably handsome with thin, glossy lips to Dream Guy's full, dry ones and Jared figures it would probably be a pretty great blowjob. Even if it wasn’t who he wanted. Even if it wasn’t Dream Guy’s lips wrapped around him and Jared’s hand in his hair, or Dream Guy's cock up Jared’s ass with Jared flat on his back, or Dream Guy's face down on Jared’s tiny little twin-sized bed, begging.

So yeah, scratch that. It would suck. He’s ruined, he knows that. He only wants one thing.

Fuck, Jared is so gone.

“Alright, forty,” he shrugs. Jared shakes his head, trying to focus on the current conversation. “And that’s a serious discount, so I’d take it if I were you. I got people coming in soon that’ll pay a lot more than that.”

His eyes are smiling even while his mouth turns down and as he leans just slightly forward into Jared's space, blinks slowly and licks his lips. Jared's breath catches. Yeah he can get why people would pay to fuck this guy.

“Thanks, but uh…”

“That’s what I thought,” the guy sighs, shakes his head like he's anything but disappointed, but pretending to be just that. “I’m Misha, by the way.”

“Hello Misha,” Jared answers, because it’s only polite. Besides, he likes this guy’s voice and maybe if he’s nice, the voice will tell all about the man of his dreams. “I’m Jared.”

Misha rolls his eyes and Jared blushes, because he has the terrible suspicion this Misha guy is reading his mind.

“He’s Jensen,” Misha says. “And you can’t afford him.”

“I don’t…” Jared starts, shaking his head, ready to deny his undying love because suddenly he’s, stupidly, overwhelmingly embarrassed. He’s head over heels in love with a fucking hooker he's never even met, a hooker who just blew him off for some shithead in a nice car. And he feels like a tool.

“Save it, kid,” Misha tells him. “Everybody wants Jensen. He’s good at his job. And for people like you, the price goes up.”

“People like me?” What the hell does that mean? Jared kind of doesn't want to know how he's coming across to Misha, to Jensen. Like some dumb, drooling, over-eagre kid with a crush, no doubt. Well, he can't really say they're wrong. “I don’t… What does that even mean?”

“People that think they love him,” Misha says, simply. “He knows he’s good at what he does, those fucking eyes of his and those lips. Fuck, there were a few dread-filled months where I thought I was in love with him. But it passed, thank God. I couldn’t handle loving someone that pretty. My wallet couldn’t handle it either.”

Misha talks with an odd combination of dryness and wistfulness and Jared doesn’t bother telling him that he’s full of shit. Looks like Jared isn’t the only one with a crush.

“So…” Jared hedges, because he already looks like an idiot and if he can find out anything at all about Jensen (and it’s such a damn nice name that Jared wants to call all their children Jensen) then he’s going for it. “That guy that pulled up…”

“Jeff,” Misha says immediately, shuddering. “Likes for Jensen to call him ‘Daddy’ while he spanks Jensen’s ass with a paddle.”

“Uh…” Jared says. “Yeah, that’s…” Not really what he thought Misha would tell him.

He blinks, turns and walks into the store without another word.

***

It’s two weeks later and Jared has seriously considered moving. Giving up his mostly clean and vermin-free apartment to rent out the rat-infested shithole above the store, just so he can watch Jensen, unnoticed, even on the nights he doesn’t work.

He doesn’t though, which is something.

He’s leaving the store one night, after he’s already seen Jensen take off around the corner with someone, and Misha is there.

“How much?”

“I told you,” Misha says, smiling. “Fifty for a blow job.”

“No, I mean… for Jensen. You said I couldn’t afford it.” And he was probably right. Jared can’t fucking afford a television set, so he's got to mooch the newest episodes of Friends off his big sister's cable plan, but he’s got to know anyway.

“He doesn’t take less than two hundred.” Misha’s tone is light, matter of fact, like he hadn’t offered to suck Jared off for a quarter that amount. “But like I said, if he knows he can get it, he’ll charge more. Jeff pays more.”

“Two…” Jared starts, ignoring the part about Jeff because Jared hates him on principle, and holy fuck. Yeah, he guesses that’s not really a lot of money for sex. Sure, a lot of people take less but he knows that a lot of people charge more, too. Still, it’s an order of magnitude higher than Jared’s disposable income for the entire month.

He could save up he supposes, but at the rate he’s saving it’s gonna take way too long. Besides, Jared knows he’s going to want more than a blow job and who knows how much that’s going to cost him.

He’s still trying to figure it out when he watches Misha grin at a man across the street, who’s wearing a pair of sunglasses even though it’s past midnight. Jared recognises him immediately as the guy that delivers Chinese from Wang’s Kitchen. He’s one of Misha’s regulars.

***

“Do you take instalments?” Jared asks, words coming out before he can even think about them when he sees Jensen one afternoon at the supermarket. And it’s yet another stupid thing to say, a seriously stupid thing to say, but sometimes Jared’s mouth doesn’t wait for his brain to catch up. It’s especially stupid because they haven’t even exchanged one word since Jared made a fool of himself three and half weeks ago and Jensen blew him off.

Jared’s been watching him though and he's pretty sure Jensen knows it. Jensen’s caught him, a few times. The very next Wednesday night, when Jared poked his head around the corner at half past ten, Jensen looked straight at him, licked his lips and kept on looking at him as he mumbled dirty words of encouragement to the kid on his knees.

When Jensen came all over the kid’s face, pushing some of the mess into his mouth with the pad of his thumb, he winked at Jared and Jared came in his pants. He hadn’t even realised until that second that he’d been rubbing the palm of his hand over his cock, right there where Jensen could see.

Jensen coughs, puts down the lemon he was holding and turns around. His lips quirk up in a way that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle with humour. Jared would swoon, if he didn’t think maybe that would be inappropriate in public.

“For the lemons?” Jensen asks, raising his eyebrow and his smile grows. It takes Jared a moment to remember what they were talking about. And then Jensen cocks his head slightly toward Jared and his voice gets even warmer, softer and Jared can’t even think of anything to say because his dick is suddenly, achingly hard.

“They’re going on sale next week, but you didn’t hear it from me,” he tells Jared, overly low and quiet, like it’s a huge secret. He’s still smiling. Jensen is making fun of him, and he doesn’t even care, because at least Jensen is talking to him.

It’s only then that Jared notices the dark green apron Jensen is wearing and he realises that Jensen isn’t shopping for lemons, he’s stacking them. Jensen works in the produce department at Trader Joe’s during the day, and sells his ass at night.

Huh.

It’s a disjointed picture, but hey, whatever.

And now’s his chance. Now they’re talking, having a conversation that’s not about hooking. Because Jared doesn’t think Jensen wants to talk about hooking at his day job, in case someone doesn’t know and he gets into trouble. Now’s when Jared can tell Jensen that he’s the most beautiful man Jared’s ever seen and his smile lights up a dirty alley like nothing else and can Jared please take him out on a date and have his babies?

But he says none of those things. He’s really starting to think there’s something seriously wrong with him.

“Thanks for the tip,” he mumbles and shoves a few avocados into his bag before he turns and runs. He doesn’t even fucking like avocados. He dumps them onto a stack of cucumbers two rows over, when he's out of Jensen's sight. He can't afford them anyway.

***

“I have eighty-three bucks,” Jared says, his hand pressing down against his back pocket to make sure his wallet is still there. It’s not a lot of money, but Jared cleaned out his bank account earlier that day and if he loses it he’s fucked. And not by Jensen.

“Good for you,” Jensen answers, but his smile is one Jared recognises. Honest and warming and one Jared has never seen him use on anyone but Misha, while they’re talking, sharing a beer and a joint and joking around in between customers.

“What’ll it buy me?” Jared knows he sounds desperate, he feels stupid, but he doesn’t care. He won’t be able to call his mom this month because he won’t be able to afford the minutes and he’ll have to beg out of going to the movies the next three Fridays with Chad from the video store and if he wants a buzz he’ll have drink the apple juice that’s been in the fridge since the previous tenant moved out of his place, but he doesn’t care.

“I know it’s not enough for…” Jared trails off, suddenly feeling shy about discussing the details. “But I mean, it’s gotta be enough for something. Right?”

Jensen looks at him for a few seconds. A few seconds more. A few seconds after that Jared’s getting ready to leave – the spot he’s rooted to, the block, fuck, the town probably, he feels like such a complete jackass.

And then Jensen’s leaning in and kissing him. His lips are stupidly soft and the press is gentle and then Jensen slides his tongue out, just the barest sweep across Jared’s lower lip before he’s pulling back and Jesus fucking Christ, if that was it? If that one, four second kiss is going to cost Jared eighty-three dollars, it is so Goddamn worth it.

“You,” Jensen says tilting his head down and his eyes up, and his lashes are thick and beautiful and they flutter even though Jensen isn’t trying, “are the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.”

“Um… thanks?” Jared says, and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He fingers out the money and hands it to a grinning Jensen. And then he stands there, because now what? Was that it? Is he supposed to leave now, or negotiate for more?

“Eighty-three bucks?” Jensen asks, eyeing the money before he slips it into his pocket.

“Yeah. It’s all I’ve got. And I mean all I’ve got. Is that…”

“You busy right now?” And Jensen is sliding a tiny bit closer, hip brushing up against Jared distractingly. He eyes the door to the store behind them like he’s wondering if Jared has to work.

No, Jared wants to answer. I’ll never ever be busy again, ever, if I can just stay here and stare at you. And then maybe fuck you over the hood of that Pinto that’s been abandoned around the corner since I moved into the neighbourhood. What he actually says is “Um…” He is so smooth.

“Come on,” Jensen says, putting an arm around Jared’s waist and slipping his hand into Jared’s front pocket.

“Where are we going?” Jared asks, and if Jensen tells him it’s somewhere they can fuck for the next rest of his life, Jared will die happy.

“Don’t worry Jared,” Jensen tells him and Jared gets warm all over because Jensen said his name. “I’ll have you home by morning.”

Continued