Wannabe
Spice World
2 become 1
Who do you think you are?

Jared was half way through the Christmas Edition Bumper Sudoku Book when Jensen stumbled through his front door, wearing only one shoe and a Kane t-shirt, despite the gale force blizzard outside. "Dude," he panted, pressing his back against the door as if he expected Hell Hounds to pound on it at any second. "You gotta help me, man."

"I do?" Jared blinked, scribbling a number nine in the top left hand corner of his puzzle.

Jensen nodded earnestly. "Uh huh."

Jared shrugged. "You post pictures of Chris and Steve on the internet again?"

"Worse." Jensen swallowed, eyes wide, and more than a little afraid.

Sudoku cast aside, Jared lolled back on the couch and watched his co-star slam close every bolt, lock and security feature his door had to offer. "You fuck around on Danneel?"

Jensen rolled his eyes, "Like she hasn't already." He snorted. "No, this is way worse. End of the world type worse."

"You knock over a bank?"

"Dude!" Jensen groaned in exasperation. "Is that the worst thing you can think of?"

"Um…" Jared was at a loss. He wanted to finish his puzzle.

The phone rang, sharp and shrill, and Jensen practically dived behind the couch. "Tell her I am sick." He hissed desperately.

Cautiously, Jared lifted the phone. Danneel, sure enough, was on the other end. "Put him on." She sighed.

"Put who on?" Jared hedged, making use of the cordless phone to circle on Jensen and poke him in the ribs. 'Dude, the fuck?' He mouthed. Jensen shook his head rapidly and pretended to throw up over the arm of Jared's three thousand dollar studio purchased couch.

"Put. Jensen. On. Now." Danneel growled. One of these days they would have to line her up with a guest spot on the show. The YED would have been her bitch.

Jensen shook his head madly. Snow melted and dripped down his nose to puddle on the green cushions.

"Oh, oh you mean Jensen." Okay, so he sucked at lying. He kicked Jensen in the shin and flailed his arms a little. "He's um, he's," Jensen pressed a hand dramatically to his forehead and swooned. "He's sick. Very sick."

"Dying." Jensen hissed, nodding violently.

"Soon to be six feet under."

"No kidding." Danneel said dryly. "Tell him that he had better be harboring the bubonic plague, or I'll skin him alive and use what is left of him to make a handbag."

Both Jared and Jensen winced.

"I don't know about the plague…might be the Spanish flu." Jared offered.

"Tell him I hope it hurts."

"Will do." Jared nodded.

"Oh, and Jared?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"You'll get a better reading on the thermometer if you shove it up his ass. No need to be gentle."

This time Jensen was the only one of them that winced. Jared just grinned. "Duly noted."

He hung up, and Jensen slumped sideways onto the couch, one hand covering his eyes. "Thank fuck." He gasped. "I owe ya."

"Uh huh." Jared nodded. He tossed the phone onto the coffee table and proceeded to remove Jensen's soaking wet socks. "You gonna tell me what that was all about?"

"No." Jensen said flatly. Jared tickled his feet for less than a minute, until he snorted with laughter and they both fell off the couch. "Fine," he huffed, head against Jared's shoulder. "She's got these concert tickets, right?"

"You pretended to have the bubonic plague to skip out on a concert? On post concert sex? With Danneel? Dude, are you actually sick?"

"It ain't just any concert, man." Jensen actually flinched. "It's-"

"You can tell me." Jared said, innocent puppy gaze in full effect.

"I can't." Jensen moaned, utterly mortified.

Jared tickled him again, one leg swung over snow soaked jeans, pinning him against the hardwood floor and the fluffy white rug. Sadie bounded over and licked Jensen's face for added effect. Jared had known each and every one of Jensen's ticklish spots by the end of the first week of filming, and he worked his way ruthlessly through each one. Ribs first, then belly, until Jensen was too busy laughing and squirming to put up much of a defense when Jared moved to the backs of his knees and his armpits.

"Asshole." Jensen giggled, his glare morphing into a snort of laughter.

"Teeeeeeell meeeeeee." Jared sing-songed, sitting on Jensen's thighs and returning his fingers to Jensen's ribs.

"I-hate-you." Jensen panted.

"Do I need to go get that thermometer?"

"Pervert."

"Bitch."

"The Spice Girls."

"Assmu- wait, what?" Jensen took advantage of Jared's stunned stillness to squirm out from under him and launch his own counter attack. Jared wasn't ticklish per say, but there was a spot right behind his left knee that-

"Oh fuck. No. bad Jensen."

"Dude, I ain't one of your dogs." Jensen grunted, his face squished against the floor and his legs folded pretzel-like around Jared's waist.

"Thank fuck." Jared grunted. One of Jensen's feet was pressed precariously against a rather delicate part of his anatomy. He let go of Jensen's wrist long enough to beg truce.

"Pussy." Jensen grinned, working the cramp out of his jaw and slumping back against the foot of the couch.

"Pussy…dude. The Spice Girls." Jared had only just begun to process that little gem of information. No wonder Jensen would rather have the plague. "You have just lost all your macho points. Not that you had all that many- umpf."

Jensen had really sharp fucking elbows, and one of them belted him hard in the sternum. "Another word, and I'll shove more than a thermometer up ya ass, understand?" Jensen threatened.

Jared nodded as quickly and earnestly as he could. Jensen's face brightened considerably. "Cool. Now finish your damn puzzle, Einstein, I'll order take out."

*****

Of course Jared was not going to let something like that slip without a fight. The next day on set, and a plague free Jensen tackled him in the craft tent, mindless of Katie standing nearby with a camera phone, or the two dozen set guys milling around during lunch.

"Jensen?" Kim asked mildly, less concerned by the wrestling match his stars were having than was perhaps appropriate.

"In a minute, Kim." Jensen grunted, narrowly avoiding one of Jared's arms as it flung out towards his face. "I gotta kill him first."

Kim shrugged, and Katie made some muttered comment about posting all the footage she filmed on to YouTube.

"Now, Jen." Jared's laughed stilled when he banged his head off the side of the craft table. "Let's not do anything we'd regret in the morning."

"I don't do regrets." Jensen growled, fisting his hands in Sam's jacket and jerking Jared off the floor. "I will be no less satisfied with your death tomorrow than I'm gonna be today."

"Oh, that's good." Jared nearly choked Jensen hauled him to his feet and rolled him into a rather painful headlock. "Just so you are sure."

"Now apologize for fucking with my iPod." Jared burst into a fit of giggles that probably wasn't helping his cause.

"I just thought you'd like to hear what you missed out on last night." Jared said innocently.

Jensen growled and kicked lightly at the back of Jared's knees. "Hey, Katie, how'd you feel about puttin' on Sam's shirt today and playing my little brother?"

"Aw baby, don't be such a spoilsport." Jared said, his voice muffled by Jensen's arm.

The crew laughed. "Son of a bi-"

"Jensen, let him go." Kim warned.

"But he's a demon!" Jensen protested. "We gotta send him back to Hell. Or drown him in holy water, I ain't picky."

"Yes, he's a demon, but sadly he is our demon. Now let him go."

Jared limped away when Jensen reluctantly released him, stupid, smug ass grin plastered all over his face.

"Dude, couldn't we just have left Sam dead last season?" He protested to Kim. Kim shrugged.

"Take it up with Eric."

*****

Things just got worse from there. Jensen wandered late into wardrobe the next morning to find Dean's clothes replaced with a Union Jack mini dress and red platform heels. By lunch time he had Spice Girls lyrics scrawled over a hundred post-it notes. An hour later, and a PA brought over a brown paper envelope with his name scrawled across it in big, loopy letters.

He opened it, and a shiny publicity shot fell out onto his lap, five perfect white smiles grinning up at him.

Dear Jensen, we'd love to give you a private show sometime. Baby'll even trade her lollipop for your-

"JARED!"

*****

After a week Jensen had begun to give up hope. His coffee was now delivered in The Official Spice Girls Mug, his golfclub key fob had been replaced by the face of the Ginger One, and his car had a SPICE WORLD window sticker.

The Impala was no longer playing Master of Puppets, but The Greatest Hits of the Spice Girls, and he was willing to bet cold hard cash that when he got home, the Spice Girls Birthday Cake would still be in his refrigerator.

*****

The final strike came over a week later. Everything had shown signs of dying down in the run up to Christmas. Jared went three whole days without muttering a single line of Viva Forever, and Jensen, foolishly, had thought he was safe.

Which was about the time Danneel left a message on his voicemail: You are the best boyfriend in the world! Of course I'd love to go see the concert in London with you! I hope you are feeling better babe, don't be too disappointed, I took pictures. Love you.

And Jensen found two plane tickets to London sitting on the dresser in his trailer.

War. Fucking war, Padalecki.

*****

Jared was feeling pretty proud of himself. He'd driven Jensen around the bend, amassed enough blackmail material to last him well into the New Year, uploaded Katie's video of him and Jensen rolling around on the floor, and only spent a small fortune in doing so. Sandy had lovingly proclaimed him to be the son of the devil, and Jensen would have to admit that as far as pranks went, Padalecki was the king.

Grin firmly etched on his face, he bounded to the door when the buzzer rang, and threw it back to reveal a very pale Jensen.

Alarm bells started to ring. Jensen looked…about to cry. Jensen never cried. Ever. Not when his girl left him, or his goldfish died, or well, ever. Which as far as Jared was concerned, was a serious blessing. Dean crying was enough to make his insides twist up. He didn't think he'd be able to stand real life Jensen tears.

"Jen?" Moving quickly, Jared dragged Jensen inside and herded him into the kitchen. "You okay?"

Jensen nodded shakily, gently pushing Jared down onto one of the wooden chairs at the table. Nasty thoughts began to poke at Jared's mind. Jensen was going to tell him something awful. "Jen?"

Jensen circled around behind him, and before Jared could as much as shuffle around in his seat, Jensen had handcuffed his wrists behind the chair.

What. The. Fuck?

Jensen twisted around and sat in Jared's lap, eyes sparkling with evil intent, no trace of tears. Give the guy a fucking Emmy. "You're been a bad boy, Jared."

Normally he might have laughed at the porn dialect, but normally he wasn't handcuffed to a chair in his own kitchen. "Um…Jen?"

Jensen pressed a finger to Jared's lips. "No. You're not going to talk. You're going to listen. Understand?"

Really, what else could Jared do but nod?

"Good boy." Jensen smirked. He climbed off of Jared's lap and vanished into the living room. When he returned, he had Jared's heavy duty headphones. The things were industrial strength, the warm, soft padding blocking out everything but the music. Jensen fished his iPod out of his jacket pocket and plugged in the speakers. He fiddled with the dial and fitted the headphones snuggly over Jared's ears.

"Jen?" Jared could barely hear his own voice, so he hoped he hadn't squeaked as loud as he feared he had. Jensen ignored him, and the less than dulcet tones of Scary, Ginger, Sporty, Baby and the Other One flooded his senses. "Oh no. No. Jen, don't do this. Jensen? Jensen!"

Colours of the world
Spice up you life
Every boy and every girl
Spice up your life
People of the world
Spice up your life
Aaaahh!!!

Jensen flashed him a killer grin. Jesus Christ, the Romans had nothing on Jensen. He'd take crucifixion over this any day of the week. Then Jensen moved, slid down between Jared's thighs and gave cruel and unusual a whole new meaning.

If you're having a good time
Shake it to the right
If you know that you feel fine
Shake it to the front
Uh Uh go round
Slam it to the left
If you're having a good time
Shake it to the right
If you know that you feel fine
Shake it to the front
Hi Ci Ya Hold Tight

"What-" Jensen forged on, deftly unfastening Jared's belt buckle and zip, his lips tugging into the most evil fucking smirk Jared had ever seen. He whimpered, and Jensen awkwardly wriggled Jared's jeans down to mid-thigh.

It wouldn't have been such a problem if Jared's dick hadn't chosen that precise moment to start getting interested in what was happening. Jensen would probably have just left him butt naked and tortured by Spice for a few hours. Instead his eyebrow rose and he reached into Jared's boxers to pull his dick through the gap in the fabric.

Yo I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna zigazig ha.

Jared whimpered again, but since all the sounds he made were masked by female warbling, he figured they didn't really count. Jensen opened his lips, full, pretty lips, not that Jared had really noticed before, and wrapped them around the head of Jared's dick. Then even the headphones couldn't have filtered out the moan he made. Jensen pulled back and Jared's hips snapped up, trying to follow. "Please." He moaned. "Please, please."

Jensen smacked him lightly on the thigh, but nodded, pressing himself closer until he had wriggled his shoulders under Jared's knees and wrapped his arms around the back of the chair.

His thighs slid smoothly across Jensen's broad shoulders, heels knocking the small of Jensen's back and his heart kicking up to light speed. Jensen's lips were back on him again, stretched wide, pink and shiny. He sucked gently on the head, tongue licking slow, smooth paths that made Jared's balls tighten and his thighs clench.

I said who do you think you are?
(I said who)
Some kind of superstar,
You have got to swing it, shake it, move it, make it,
who do you think you are?
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,
show me how good you are,

Jensen dragged it out, torturing him with slow, leisurely movements, his head bobbing gently. Then without warning, he opened his lips wide and took Jared down his throat.

"Jesus fuck!"

I need some love like I've never needed love before
Wanna make love to ya baby
I had a little love, now I'm back for more
Wanna make love to ya baby
Set your spirit free, it's the only way to be
Be a little bit wiser baby, put it on, put it on
'cause tonight is the night when 2 become 1

He shouted out something that in his head sounded coherent, but in all likelihood was a sting of gibberish. Jensen got to message none the less, pulling himself back as Jared came.

That in itself had its problems. He'd just come on his best friend's face. Was there some sort of etiquette for that kind of thing? Did he offer to blow Jensen back? Or were they supposed to pretend it hadn't happened?

Too complicated for an endorphin flooded brain to deal with.

Jensen cleaned him up with a clean dishcloth, tossing it in the trash when he was done. He fastened Jared's jeans up and patted him gently on the cheek.

Then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jared with a sated dick, and The Best of the Spice Girls on repeat.

"JENSEN!"