Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7900054.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki, Jeffrey_Dean_Morgan/Colton_Haynes
  Character:
      Adrianne_Palicki, Jason_Momoa, Chad_Michael_Murray, Snowball_the_Cat
  Additional Tags:
      fuckpig_verse, Underage_Sex, Daddy_Kink, Watersports, Exhibitionism,
      Voyeurism, HIV/AIDS, (not_involving_any_of_the_characters_but_a_lengthy
      discussion_about_the_AIDS_crisis_in_the_80s), Banter, Group_Sex,
      Recreational_Drug_Use, Dom/sub, Unsafe_Sex, Bad_BDSM_Etiquette, Implied/
      Referenced_Incest
  Collections:
      Fuckpig_Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-28 Words: 8140
****** Get in the Van ******
by saltandbyrne
Summary
     After Philly, after New York, after Denver and everything else,
     Jensen watches the miles fly by and watches Fuckpig in their home on
     wheels. Slices of life on the filthiest tourbus in the US of A.
     We're gonna need a montage (montage!)
Notes
     This takes place about a year after as_close_as_I_can_get_to_you.
     Jensen is 15.
     Please read the tags. Always read the tags.
     Title is from Henry Rollins' memoir of life on the road.
      
     Soundtrack_on_Spotify.
Adrianne’s pick: The Best of Dolly Parton
~
“I’m just saying, the obvious solution is for Dolly and Jolene to shack up with
each other and ditch the fuckboy.”
Adrianne’s thighs splay apart on her bunk, her mile-long legs tilting to
balance her notebook straight while she rolls a joint on the cardboard back.
“Sweetheart, if Dolly is one thing it is straight.”
Jeff stretches his legs out from the folding couch stuffed in the front of the
bus, resting his boots squarely on the lower back of a younger Channing Tatum
doppelganger spending his spring break with them.  He shakes his head and gives
Adrianne a sympathetic smile before looking back down at his book. 
“Oh, please.”
She rolls her eyes and tears off a square from the Bambu rolling paper
packaging.
“’With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green’?”
She raises a razor eyebrow at Jeff as she rolls it into a filter.
“I think I got a redhead pregnant last week and I still wouldn’t write a corny
line like that.”
 What might be Toledo whizzes past them as she stuffs a generous hank of weed
into her grinder.  Jensen rolls over in Jared’s narrow bed, blinking fucksore
and sleepy.
 “You know she lost a lookalike contest to a drag queen?”
 Adrianne snorts and knocks out a flaky pile of Granddaddy Kush as she grins
sweetly at Jason in the top bunk across from her.
 “Momo lost his butthole cherry to a drag queen.”
 “I was fifteen!” 
 Jason’s bear roar shakes down into Jared’s bed beneath him.  Jared seems used
to the noise, smacking his lips before immediately falling back into the sound
sleep of someone with a sore dick and a fifth of bourbon in his stomach.
 “You’re just jealous.  Like you didn’t do some questionable shit when you were
fifteen.”
 Jensen bites his lip into a smile as Adrianne and Jason kick up their brother-
sister banter.  He still has nine more months of being fifteen.
 “You gonna sing it for us, hot stuff?”
 Adrianne lights her joint with a clear purple Bic and blows a stream of smoke
down to Jeff.
 Jeff smirks and keeps reading his book.
 “Aw c’mon, please?”
 Jason reaches across the aisle for Adrianne’s joint, making a tattooed Sistine
chapel above Jensen.  He takes a lung cracking toke and squints his best puppy
dog eyes down at Jeff.
 Jensen rouses himself enough to halfway crawl out of Jared’s bed, shaking his
bedhead out of his eyes and blinking his best daddybait look at Jeff.
“Pretty please, papa?" 
Jeff closes his book and lays it carefully between his boy’s shoulderblades. 
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
Jeff grabs the beat-up old Gretsch that lives by the couch and winks at Jensen
before he wraps the rich timbre of his voice around Jolene’s name. 
~
Jeff’s pick: The Country Blues of John Lee Hooker
~
 Jensen’s never had a cat.
 Snowball’s a runty white thing with one cloudy eye and a black splotch over
his nose.  He’s got a studded collar that’s nicer than half the jewelry
Jensen’s ever stolen and Jared’s his favorite thing on earth.
 Jensen’s never been much good at drawing either but he still doodles pictures
in his beat-up spiral notebook, the one plastered with Fuckpig stickers and
half the pages torn out (mortifying boydrip poetry that he’d shoved under the
lining of his backpack).
 He’s pretty sure the cat’s just chasing the sun but it’s still nice to have
something purring across his shins as he doodles his awkward cartoons.  He
sketches the bus, the ratty fuck couch in the back and the DNA evidence
bathroom, the eight bunks lined up across from each other in twos.  The ones
not claimed for bandmembers and Chad are teeming with everyone’s crap.
  There’s more lube than Jensen has ever seen in his life and a tangle of sex
toys that everyone seems to keep straight despite no system Jensen can discern.
It’s fun to draw a mountain of dicks.
He draws Snowball nuzzling up to Jason’s aquamarine bong, draws him draped over
Adrianne’s neck with the words Pussy Scarf in glam dazzle letters, draws him
sitting serenely by Jeff’s stack of books as he mouths at the dull black anal
beads that seem to be his favorite toy.  He draws his staring contests with
Chad, which Snowball always wins, draws his tail hanging off the counter of
their never-used-for-food kitchenette, draws him curled around the boots of one
of the don’t ask don’t tell drivers they hire for long stretches on the road.
He tries to draw him touching noses with Jared and spends days scratching out
failed attempts to capture the upturned perfection of Jared’s nose.
“He likes you,” Jared says one morning, walking around in his boxers with half
a morning woody that still makes Jensen lick his lips.  Snowball’s tucked over
Jensen’s neck, his favorite spot to nap once he’d figured out Jensen’s pretty
good at holding his breath.
“He likes everyone.”
Jensen rolls his eyes and bumps his forehead against Snowball’s ever-purring
ribs.  He must have learned being noisy in bed from his owners.
“No way.”
Jared’s hands smell like sex as he wraps them gently around Snowball, picking
him up in a limp pile of happy fur and snuggling him against his bare chest.
“He scratched the last bitch Chad brought on the bus and I don’t he ever really
liked Amell.”
Jared kisses the top of Snowball’s head and piles his onto his shoulder.
“Maybe we can take you out later, hm?”  Jared heads to the bathroom with
Snowball happily planted on him.
Jensen had never seen a cat on a leash before, either.  The way Jared tenders
Snowball makes Jensen’s chest crush in too hard sometimes.  He circles his
finger around one of the horrifyingly beautiful stains crusting up on Jared’s
sheets and smiles into his kitty-fuzz pillow.
 
~
 Chad’s pick: The Kids of Widney High
~
“Jeff." 
Jensen’s mouth feels like an old gummy bear coated in truffle butter.  He
blinks awake after a few tries, rubbing a black eyeliner booger out of the
corner of his eye.  Jeff’s leaning against Jason’s bunk, arms crossed as he
smiles down at Jensen.
“What the fuck.”
Jared takes a gulp of coffee and punches Jeff on the bicep, hard enough to make
Jeff blink without breaking his grin.  Jared’s one of five people on earth who
could get away with that, and three of them are on this bus. 
“I’m just watchin’ him sleep,” Jeff says, his voice soft and stranger danger
sweet.
“You are such a sick fuck, old man.”
Jason’s stoned clover laugh claps over the bus.
~ 
Jason’s pick: Dopethrone by Electric Wizard
~
“What rhymes with ‘milk’?”  Adrianne’s voice booms from the other end of the
bus.
“Silk,” come three different voices as Jeff, Jared, and Chad all pipe up at
once. 
“I don’t think we can work in a line about silk, babe.”
 A snippet of bass line repeats itself in Jason’s hands as he shrugs.
 “We’re trying to write a song about that pregnant chick Adrianne fucked in
Spokane last year.”
 “You are such a nasty bitch.”
 Jeff is stone-faced as ever with his praise.
 “Hey, motherhood is sacred.”
 A cloud of smoke wreathes Jason’s head as he continues to pluck the start of a
song.
 Jensen pulls off Jared’s dick with wet pop, smacking his glossy-sore lips.
 “Bilk?”
 “Big word for tenth grade,” Jeff muses into his whiskey.
 “Yeah, it’s like, when you extort money or something.  Like blackmail.”
 Jared smiles down at him.
 “Like that time you threatened to call child services if I didn’t fuck you in
that Waffle House bathroom?”
 “Exactly.”
 Jensen beams his best boyscout smile up at Jared as Jeff lets out a rich
laugh.
 “Kid ain’t stupid, I’ll give him that.”
 Jeff toasts him a little salute and doesn’t bother looking away when Jensen
slides his mouth back down Jared’s dick. 
~ 
Jeff’s pick: Here’s Little Richard
~
San Francisco is lousy with pretentious assholes but the crowd had loved them.
They’re double-booked at the Gilman and sleeping on the bus means more money in
their pockets, not to mention fewer cops looking sideways at the kid between
Jeff’s legs.
Adrianne and Jason had disappeared with some molly and an atypically reluctant
Chad.  Apparently the Bay Area loves giving Chad public indecency citations as
much as it loves Fuckpig.
“I fuckin’ love this town.”
Jeff runs his hand through a towhead blonde buzzcut and swirls a glass of wine
between two of his thick fingers.
“You gonna share?”
Jeff raises an eyebrow as Jared nods over at the bottle of wine resting next to
his boy’s bent knees.  Jeff only shares his boys when they’ve been really bad
or really, really good, but their tribute is sometimes dispersed among the
band.
“That, son, is a four-hundred-dollar bottle of Marcassin Chardonnay that this
sweet thing stole from his family’s wine cellar.”
The kid doesn’t move but Jensen can still see the muscles in his back jump at
Jeff’s rare praise. 
“You know how to make Daddy happy, don’t you, darlin’?”
They jump again when Jeff clinks the tangle of keys that usually hangs around
his neck.  He’s got them wrapped around his fist like a rosary, dangling down
to brush against the kid’s cheek whenever Jeff moves his hand.
“Oh I’m sure it has a lovely virgin teak full bodied mineral moiré nose
boquedouche to it,” Jared whines, the nasal tone he like to use when he’s
taking the piss out of Jeff.  Jeff’s decidedly un-metal oenophilia is a
particular favorite of Jared’s.  Jensen had been supremely dismayed to learn it
wasn’t in fact a sex thing.
“You’ve got a nose for blow, kiddo.  This would be wasted on you.”
Jeff sticks his nose in his glass, closes his eyes and inhales like someone
just brought him a virgin.
“Smoother than rubbing your dick on someone’s milk teeth.”
Jeff clinks his keys and smiles.
~
Jared’s pick: Plush by Stone Temple Pilots
~
Chad has a box labelled “don’t touch my shit” that Jensen opens the first
chance he gets.
Most of it makes no sense: at least ten dead flip phones, a holographic 8x10
that flips between Jesus and a flying saucer, a bag of what could be some
Special K, a Precious Moments figurine with a Fu Manchu moustache Sharpie’d
onto it, a baby sock full of Canadian dollar coins, empty bottles of nail
polish.
There’s a stack of polaroids with a gruesome looking rubber band around them. 
Jensen pockets the baggy and peels them apart with thief-light fingers.  
It’s a different bus and a different drummer, Amell, the one they all call The
Thirst for some reason.  It’s typical aftershow shit, Jeff with a lap full of
something barely pubescent, Jason taking bong rips with two long heads of black
hair between his legs, Jared looking like God’s gift to boypussy everywhere. 
Jensen flips through them slowly, squinting at blurry images of Jeff flipping
the camera off and Jason laughing his sharkmouth laugh.  Jared with his pants
half-off, Jared with his glorious dick in his hand and some hesher haired thing
getting pushed toward him with what’s probably Jeff’s boot on his ass. 
Jensen’s lips fall open like the cupid-faced figurine in Chad’s box.
Jared’s dick in someone else’s mouth, then his ass, then a classy Eiffel Tower
with the old drummer who’s only got eyes for Jared.  Jared with a wicked,
grinning mouthful of someone’s jizz, Jared push-pouting someone else’s mouth
open with his strong hands just like he did to Jensen last night.  Jeff and
Jason roaring with laughter, a blurry shot of what’s probably Chad’s dick,
Jared kissing someone with his eyes closed.
Jensen dumps everything back in the box and scratches at the stubble growing in
over his balls.  His stomach aches even though he’s eaten every day for the
past week.  He shoves a cigarette between his lips, still itching a little with
the newfound wealth of the cartons they keep on the bus.  He doesn’t light it.
A mile or two rolls by as he picks at a scab healing up on his knee, stopping
when he sees a trickle of blood roll down his leg in the fluorescent highway
moonlight.
Jensen cuts up the entire baggy of mystery drugs and hopes like fuck it’s K.
~
Everyone’s pick: Murder Ballads by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds
~
Outside of Pittsburgh one of Adrianne’s girls reads his tarot.
Nina’s one of the stone butch fangirls Adrianne drags up when she wants to get
her pussy eaten all night.  She’s got shorter hair than Jeff’s current
amusement and big dark eyes that make Jensen want to tell her all his secrets.
“Put your hand on them so they can read your energy.”
Rust belt sunlight fights its way onto the bus, dappling over his hand as he
spreads his palm over her cards.  They’re worn around the edges and decorated
with delicate pictures of the moon going through its phases.
Jensen lays his palm on the deck and taps his fingers, letting the stump of a
Watermelon Ring Pop glint like a poor kid’s jewel.  Jared had slipped it under
his pillow before he’d run off to flip a truck tire Jason had found on the
other side of their parking lot cum home for the day. 
“Good.”
She runs the tip of her index finger behind Snowball’s ear, earning her a
steady purr.  The cat hasn’t left her side since she got on the bus because
Snowball is both the smallest and sluttiest mammal on the bus.
“Now pick one.”
She spreads them over the formica counter of their miniscule kitchen, covering
razor lines and cigarette burns with a practiced wave of her hand.  Snowball
butts his head against her wrist impatiently.
“I’ll do you next, don’t worry,” she says, touching the tip of her nose to the
cat’s.
Jensen isn’t sure if she’s joking.
“Try to see which one is calling you.”
Jensen tucks one hand back into the frayed sleeve of Jared’s deliciously rank
old hoodie.  He bites his lip as he hovers over the spread cards, figuring he
should at least go along with it.
Tarot cards are up there with Jesus and virginity as things he doesn’t believe
in but Nina’s sweet and she smells like a really fancy head shop.
He stops over a card just left of the middle.
“That’s the one,” she nods, tapping her finger for him to lay it face down. 
He repeats it two more times until he has three cards lined up.  Nina cracks
her fingers, which by the noises Adrianne was making last night are remarkably
talented.
“The first card is your past.”
She turns over a card with a Rapunzel castle on fire.
“The Tower.  Ruled by Mars, figures.  It’s like you’re trapped while the world
goes on below you.  It takes a big upheaval, like the lightning bolt to shock
the shit out of you and totally change the foundation of your inner self.”
She flips over the second one, an old man with a long white beard on a throne
made of goat skulls.  Jensen is definitely not stoned enough for this.
“The Emperor, could have guessed that one,” she snorts.
“The Emperor is your present.  He’s a patriarch, a powerful father figure.”
Her full cheeks tuck into dimples as she smirks at him.
“So the universe knows I’ve got daddy issues.”
Jensen bats his eyelashes and shrugs one bare shoulder out of Jared’s
sweatshirt.  No shit.
“The Emperor can help our dreams come true.  When this fucker shows up, there’s
shit on the horizon, opportunities to be our true selves and manifest our
destiny.”
Jared’s birthday present had come in the form of a tiny girl with big needles. 
Genevieve had pierced four bars up the plump peach of his taint while Jared had
one hand in his and one on his shamelessly hard dick.  He’d cried a little when
she did it and a lot when Jared had fucked his throat into ragged, blissful
unconsciousness afterwards.
It beat the pizza parties his not-friends back home were having for their
fifteenth birthdays.
“He’s not just an authority figure, he’s a leader.  Safety, security, purpose. 
Aries, so he’s got ambition too.  Sacred number is four.”
Jensen shifts in his seat as Nina gives him a long look.
“The last card is the future.”
A naked man and woman stand side by side, palms upturned like a less modest
Adam and Eve.  A dude with a flower crown and wings floats over them.
“The Lovers.”
Jensen tucks both his hands into his sleeves.
“Now this one –”
“I don’t.”  Jensen swallows, thirsty and too wet in his mouth all at once.
“I don’t need to know what it means.”
“Ok.”
Nina looks like she’d listen to anything he has to say.  She leaves the cards
out until he finally mumbles a quick thank you and grabs the nearest pack of
cigarettes.
“Alright, Snowball.  You’re up.”
Jensen leaves her with the cat and goes outside for a smoke.
~
Jared’s pick: Dummy by Portishead
~
“Hope you’re thirsty.”
Jensen runs his tongue over his pouted lip, leaving it to rest squarely between
the K and S of his cocksucker tattoo.  Jared’s acres of leg spread out from the
bus couch to either side of his shoulders, sprawling lazy while he holds his
half-hard dick kissing close to Jensen’s tongue.
“Always.”
Jensen keeps his mouth open as he shifts a little, angling enough that Jeff and
his miserable boy get a good view.  Chad’s been a fucking wreck after the bath
salts situation in Jacksonville and the floor’s filthy enough to crunch under
his knees but Jensen’s not gonna complain.
For once, someone’s looking up to him.
Jeff kneels across from them, buttoned up as he gets in filthy boots, his
leather jacket zipped up to his breastbone with a gritty red handkerchief
tucked around his neck.  He’s got a scowl that makes Jensen want to hide his
face behind his only garment, a canary yellow crop top with ANAL! scrawled
across it in block letters.
Jeff’s boy, Colty or Cully or some rich white boy shit, skulks on his hands and
knees, not wearing a stitch but the tears streaking down his face and the
distinct impression of Jeff’s hand on his hotplate ass.  The cage around his
bruise-red dick is more like jewelry than clothing to Jensen’s thinking.
“You watching, boy?”
Jeff’s been talking through his teeth ever since he dragged the poor fuck ear-
first out of the bathroom.
“Yes,” the kid moans, hiccupping before Jeff twists his arm to make him yelp.
“Yes, sir.”
Jensen’s down for a whole lot of shit but that padlocked torture device around
the kid’s dick (that’s a clit now, boy, he hears in Jeff’s voice) makes his
balls ache in sympathy.  Jeff had gotten him wrist deep and milked him out an
hour ago and Jensen had never seen someone cream his load on the bus floor
looking quite so miserable. 
“Jensen never spills a drop, does he?”
Jeff does something with his hand that makes his boy bleat like a sheep while
he sharkgrins at Jared.
Jared huffs softly, his eyes a little out of focus as he concentrates.  He
sighs out through open lips, one half of his tongue darting against the corner
of his mouth before he drags it across his front teeth.  It’s hard to piss on
demand.
“Nope.”
Jensen watches Jared’s nostrils flare and opens a little wider.
Salty warm and just as fast as Jensen can swallow he lets go, that sharp smell
making Jensen’s mouth water and his stomach drop.  Jared’s good, too, holding
back with his lip bit hard between his teeth to let Jensen catch up each time. 
“Does that look so fuckin’ difficult to you?”
Jeff shakes the kid, fist still in him as he reaches over his trembling back to
grab his hair.
“No, no, sir.”
Jensen doesn’t let it break his concentration but he still smiles a little as
he swallows the last of Jared’s piss.  He tongues into his slit, flicking
against his fat PA ring and chasing the last drops as Jared hisses happy and
beams down at him.
Jensen’s allowed to show off a little, that’s the whole point.
Jared leans back against the couch and sighs so happily it makes Jensen’s toes
curl. 
“Good fuckin’ boy.”
Jensen’s as much of an asshole as any fifteen-year-old with a hard dick can be
so he licks his lips while he looks Jeff’s boy dead in his cornfed face. 
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
Jared’s using his charm-your-panties off Texas voice as he strokes his boy bait
fingers through Jensen’s hair. 
“Anything your lil’ heart desires.”
Jensen stays on his knees because that’s really his best angle.  He wrinkles
his brow in thought as he looks at everyone in his audience.  Jeff wears his
stone cold Daddy face like a good suit but Jensen knows he’s fucking adorable. 
Jeff’s boy looks like the prettiest ball of murder Jensen’s ever seen.
“Mmm, come on my face?”
He bats his eyelashes up at Jared.
“And lick it off.”
Jared had already fucked him good morning and fed him lunch after a lazy
blowjob witnessed by Snowball and a half-asleep Jason.  Jensen swears to Christ
that cat knows what he’s named after, he always shows up looking for scratches
the second Jared’s got a mouthful of Jensen’s jizz waiting. 
“Slut,” Jared hums fondly, smacking his dick against Jensen’s cheek a few times
before he starts to stroke himself.
As much as he loves watching Jared beat off in his face Jensen can’t resist
sliding some stink eye over to Jeff’s boy.  His dick seems like it hasn’t
gotten the memo that the keys on Jeff’s neck aren’t going anywhere.  He’s so
strained Jensen can see the flesh of his cock pressing through the bars, a
dozen boydick blisters poking through as his cockhead drools a clear line of
apple juice to the floor.
Jensen does not envy the little shit having to lick it up after, and he just
drank a Big Gulp of Jared’s piss.
“Keep your fuckin’ eyes up here.”
Jared’s voice is all fondness as he tugs Jensen’s hair and his attention back
up.  Jensen’s eyes cross a little as he follows the smooth up-down of Jared’s
hand, the rough twist he gives the head that makes the light gleam off his
piercing.  They always tease Jason for having the snake-charmer dick but Jared
could hypnotize him with one hand and a smear of spit.
“You see what good boys get?”
Jeff’s got his boy’s mouth fish-hooked open, a line of drool running across
Jeff’s knuckles to web down to the floor.  His eyes are glassy with tears and
unbridled envy as he watches Jared stroke his urban legend of a dick.
“Good boys who don’t fuckin’ choke on it like ungrateful little shits?”
Jensen’s no more immune to Jeff’s Daddy charm than any other hungry cuntboy on
the planet.  The flush that spreads out from his kiss-marked belly is better
than half the orgasms Jensen’s had in his life, although all of those were
before Jared.
“I’m always good for Daddy.”
Jensen does his best Bambi face, because it’s a hundred times more fun to come
on something cute.  Jared’s lips curl back from his teeth, cock gripped up good
and close enough Jensen can swear he smells it, like he doesn’t always smell
like Jared’s dick.  His mouth still tastes gruesome and his dick is leaking
against his good-boy folded legs and Jeff’s boy is just whining one long,
endless noise behind him.  Jensen cups his hands over his boytits and blinks
his Precious Moments best up at Jared.
Danni always said he had the better eyelashes and they’re prettiest of all with
Jared’s come painted on them. 
“Bet you wish that was you.”
The noise Jeff’s boy makes when he pulls his hand out none too gentle makes
Jensen’s asshole clench but it makes Jared growl something perfect when he
half-hauls Jensen onto the couch and sucks himself off the apple of Jensen’s
cheeks.
“Fuckin’ mouth’s only good for my boots.”
Jeff smears whatever lube’s left on his hand over his boy’s lips and leaves him
quivering on both ends.  Legs wide and dangerous, Jeff takes a seat on one of
their crappy folding chairs like it’s his God-given throne and smiles too tight
to be anything but terrifying as the kid slowly brings his tongue to the
scuffed toe of Jeff’s boot.
Jensen squirms in Jared’s lap to get a good view, licking a salty stripe of
Jared off his chin and cat-cream smiling.  The kid’s ass looks like one of
Adrianne’s girls when she’s done for the night.  Jeff’s got his hand
shamelessly cupped over his dick, grinding the heel of his palm over the
mouthwatering bulge of it.  That kid’ll be lucky if he remembers what a dick
tastes like before Jeff deems him fuck-worthy again.
“Let’s take care of this, hmm?”
Jared flicks his chipped black picking finger over the leaking head of Jensen’s
dick.  He lifts Jensen like he weighs less than Jared’s Fender, tucking him
into the corner of the couch and grinning wolf proud when Jensen’s legs fall
right open. 
Jared slides his devil’s tongue down Jensen’s dick and gets three Daddy long
legs fingers inside him before one of the kid’s tears can roll down his face
and hit the floor.  Pride’s his favorite sin when it whets someone else’s
envy.  Supermodel beautiful and rich to boot, Cullen or Colton or whatever the
fuck his name is has to watch while Jensen fucks his little hips into Jared’s
stolen candy mouth and beams his best Filth Queen pageant smile.  Jensen
doesn’t need Vaseline on his teeth to make them gleam.
The cat’s nowhere in sight as Jared swallows Jensen’s pride.  Jeff’s eyes are
dark and his hand can’t hide how hard he is.  The couch smells like sin as
Jensen squirms his back against it, kitten happy and creamy when Jared kisses
his filthy mouth.  The bus swerves a little as it pulls into a rest stop,
parking at the far end with the trailers and truckers and the rest of Jensen’s
kind.
Jeff makes this noise in his throat that would melt Jensen into a pink puddle
if he weren’t drunk on Jared’s dick all the time.  He hauls his boy up with him
by the scruff of his neck.  He’s prettier somehow for the snot plastered on his
full lips and the way he walks a little funny when Jeff presses dick-first
behind him.
“You ready to try that again or are we leaving you here with the rest of the
trash?”
Eyes as blue as cornflowers and shot through with blood glare at Jensen as he
nods.
“Yes, sir.”
Jensen smooths down the front of his half shirt and curls into Jared’s waiting
arms.
~
Adrianne’s pick: #1 Chicken by The Red Aunts
~
Portland has good weed and strong coffee (“and strippers,” Adrianne had
relentlessly reminded them, “so many strippers”).
Jensen’s handing out shots of Stumptown espresso when Jason and Adrianne climb
on board.  Jason’s got that rare hangdog look he gets when Adrianne’s been
yelling at him.
“Have fun drowning in titties?”
Jensen hands her a steaming mini-cup.
“We were,” Adrianne snarls, crossing her arms over her faded World’s #1 Papa
muscle shirt and glaring at Jason.
“Until someone got us kicked out.”
“Little too much champagne in the champagne room?”
Jared’s shot of caffeine disappears in his hand as he tucks Jensen under his
gloriously smelly armpit.
“The strippers kept sucking his dick for free.”
Adrianne curls her hands into fists and tucks them against the sharp cut of her
hips, her eyes narrowed to slits.  Jensen laughs to himself and curls a little
closer to Jared.  She looks just like Danni’s mom when she’d yell at her
husband for not taking out the garbage.
“Again?”
Jared half-chokes on the last of his coffee.
“Yeah, we’re, uh, not allowed back there.”
Jeff sighs and drains his coffee.  He stands up from his backwards sprawl on a
chair and cracks his back as he looks at the wall of papers taped up near the
front of the bus.  He shakes his head and pulls one down.
“What was this one called?”
Jason pouts and mumbles something Jensen doesn’t quite catch.
“Lemme guess, number eight?”
Jeff rolls his eyes and scribbles “DV8” on a sheet of paper full of names like
Crazy Girls and Dr. Cave.
“We’re gonna need a new sheet soon.”
~
Jason’s pick: Last Days of Wonder by The Handsome Family
~
“Why does he even have fishing lures?”
Jensen blinks, still a little contemplative and fuzzy from yesterday’s
mushrooms.
“I don’t know, Jason’s gotta drop acid and, like, commune with the sea
sometimes,” Jared whispers.
Adrianne’s passed out half on the floor by her bunk, a pair of panties far too
lacy to be her own thrown over her eyes in a makeshift sleep mask.  She smells
like grain alcohol and pussy, and she’s wearing nothing but one sock and a pair
of Jason’s boxers.
Jason and Chad kneel over her, breath held as Jason slowly slips a fourth
colorful fishing lure through her left nipple ring.
“The most they’ve gotten is six.”
Jared laughs softly against him.
“She’s gonna be pissed.”
Jensen shakes his head, smiling against Jared’s back.  He’d sharpie’d a dick on
Danni’s arm once and she’d threatened to burn his precious copy of slutpuppy.
“That’s the point.”
The bus lurches, throwing them all a little as Adrianne snaps awake and jerks
her head up.  The panties fall and catch on Jason’s fishing lures.  She lurches
to her feet, growling and furiously hungover as Chad dashes like a greased
weasel to the bathroom and locks himself in.
“You motherfuckers.”
Jason ducks her first punch as his lures jingle.
~
Adrianne’s pick: Dirty Sanchez
~
“Speech!  Speech!  Speech!”
The bus shakes a little as they all stamp their feet.
Adrianne sniffs and wipes a fake tear from under last night’s makeup.
“I can’t believe this, thank you all so much.”
She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she adjusts the dollar-store tiara
Jason had nestled in her snarled hair.
“I’d like to thank my stepdad having so much fisting porn in that box of
‘camping equipment’,” she air-quotes.  Jeff hollers and raises his can of
Pabst.
“I want to thank Gillian Anderson for helping an entire generation of girls
realize that we are so fucking gay.”
She’s got someone else’s lipstick haloing her lips as she beams her best Miss
USA smile.
“And I’d like to thank God and my lord and savior Jesus Christ for making me a
dyke.  Thank you, thank you so much.”
She blows kisses one by one, to Jared sprawled on the floor and to Jensen on
his lap, Jeff kicked back on his military-corners bunk, Chad scratching his
armpit and leaning against the flyer-papered wall, Jason grinning beatifically
with one hand behind his back.
“Miss Palicki, it is our honor to present you with this year’s golden fist
award.”
He pulls an honest to God trophy out from behind his back as she shrieks.
“Where the fuck did you get this?”
A clenched gold fist rises from four faux marble pillars.  It looks exactly
like the sports trophies in the bedrooms of boys Jensen had blown and taken
punches from back home.
“How the fuck did you get someone to engrave “Pussy Menace” on a kid’s trophy?”
“Told the guy it was for a roller derby league.”
Chad raises his eyebrows and toasts with his tallboy of OE.
“So, birthday girl, where do you want to go for dinner?”
“Somewhere I can get a good steak,” Jeff grumbles.
“Jeff, when it’s your turn to be birthday bitch you can get your fucking
steak.”
Jared rolls his eyes fondly.  He and Jeff lock antlers from time to time but
for the most part they manage to squeeze both of their dicks on the bus without
any problems.
“Anywhere you want, darlin’.”
Adrianne is the only person on earth who can wear that nickname without getting
a death glare from Jensen.
“Well, anywhere within 20 miles of I-95.”
Still clutching her trophy to her chest, Adrianne’s grin looks like it could
split her face.
“We’re going to Red Lobster, bitches.”
~
Chad’s pick: Brass by The Minibosses.
~
“Seriously Jeff go fuck yourself in your entire ass.”
Jensen’s pretty sure Adrianne’s voice can be heard across the highway.
“You’re not the only one who has to piss.”
Jeff bangs his fist against the bathroom door one more time for good measure
before he stalks to his bunk and flings the curtain closed.
“Find Chad, asshole,” she screams back.
Jared looks up from his cracked copy of House of Leaves, his forehead knitting
together.  Jensen still gets carsick even on the bus, so he can’t amuse himself
reading the way the others do.  He’s currently plenty amused trying to distract
Jared from reading by rubbing his bare feet against Jared’s crotch.  He’s got
Jared’s cock almost perfectly framed between his arches when the bus shakes.
“I hate everything.”
The door slams as Adrianne stalks out of the bathroom.  She’s got a pair of
pants balled in her fist and nothing on from the waist down.
“I bled all over my last fucking pair of jeans.”
She tosses her jeans to the teeming pile of jizz-towels and fuck filthy
underwear.  Chad saves his most inventive laundry day curse words for it and
Jeff makes the really bad boys sleep on it.
Jensen frowns sympathetically at the white string dangling between her legs.
“You can borrow a pair of mine.”
Jensen’s other pair of jeans had barely been worn since the last laundry run. 
Jared likes him better in shorts.
“Thanks, kid.”
She sighs and clambers up onto her bed.
“M’so glad I’m a dude.”
Chad shakes his head at the scrap of cherry wood he’s whittling into what’s
either a dolphin or a dick with wings.
“Whatever, fuckface, you couldn’t handle bleeding out your cunt for a week
without dying.”
“Pretty sure he did after that one time with Jeff,” Jared snorts, cocking an
eyebrow but keeping his eyes on his book.  Jensen tries to rub his big toe over
the head of his cock and winds up with a cramp in his foot.
“You doing ok, mama?”
Jason drops down from the chin-up bar at the far end of the bus.
“I feel like an entire family of raccoons is trying to claw their way out of my
uterus, Jace, I feel fucking great.”
Jason hums and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
“When I was on that kibbutz my main lady used to swear by gettin’ off for
gettin’ rid of cramps.  You want me to go rustle up somethin’ pretty that ain’t
scared of a little blood?”
Jeff’s disgusted groan radiates from behind his curtain.
“I love how fucking nasty you are, Momo, but please just shut up and come spoon
me.”
She scoots back in her bed as Jason hops over the railing and rolls onto his
side.  Adrianne slings one muscled arm over his chest and pulls him in,
snugging his broad “I don’t do Crossfit I just fuck a lot” backside against her
stomach.
“Better than a heating pad, I swear.”
~
Jason’s pick: Run the Jewels
~
“You ever been in love, Jeff?”
Jensen drags his blacked-out eyes between Jeff and Snowball a few times,
smiling at the blurry trail between them.  What Chad had claimed was pure 90’s-
rave-grade MDMA still has him fuzzy and heart splayed around the edges.
Jeff looks up from his notebook, one of those old black and white composition
ones Jensen had used in grade school.  He’d never realized how intricate the
pattern on the cover was before.
“Not the way you are, kiddo.”
Jeff wears his glasses when he reads sometimes and it does funny things to
Jensen’s insides.
“I had someone.”
Jeff had declined any of Chad’s “E” as his old ass calls it but he’s been in a
good mood all night.  He’d sat benignly on their hazmat couch and jotted down
some of Jared’s vague lyric ideas, all of which had sounded like the Best Idea
Ever to Jensen.  Trying to lick every single inch of Jared’s body had also made
it onto the Best Idea Ever list along with counting Snowball’s whiskers and
eating five cups of ice.
“I never did the whole puppy love thing like,” Jeff waves his hand vaguely in
Jared’s direction.  One of his arms trails down to the bus floor from his bed,
where he’d passed out halfway through a conversation with the cat.
“But when I was real young, ‘bout your age, I had a … mentor of sorts.”
“What was his name?” Jensen sighs, knowing in his heart that he’s already going
to love this man just like he loves Jeff, and Jared and Jason and Adrianne and
Snowball and Danni and Chad and Gen and those two really cute brothers Jeff’s
been fucking for ten years and the waiter at the IHOP who’d put extra
strawberries on his pancakes at dinner.
Jeff snorts, his mouth tugging up as he spreads his hands pulpit-wide and grins
his best opening night grin.
“He was Mike, plain Mike in the morning, standing six-foot-three in one sock. 
He was Lieutenant in slacks, he was Elder Miller at Church, he was Michael
Dwight Miller on the dotted line.  But in my arms he was always Sir, Yes Sir.”
“My sin, my soul,” Jensen gasps, both hands clutched over his rabbitchase heart
at Nabokov and the thought of Jeff calling anyone Sir.
“You’ve … yeah, of course you have.”
Jeff gives him one of those grins that could charm the pants off a snake as
Jensen rolls “Michael Dwight Miller” over his lips, tasting it and marveling at
how many places his tongues hits along the way.
“Met him when I was at boarding school.  I knew what I was, always had. 
Thought I was pretty good at hiding it but he spotted me right away.”
Jeff shakes his head.
“It’s not like it is today, negotiating and sayin’ cantaloupe and shit if you
chicken out.  There wasn’t any internet, God, finding even the tamest gay porn
was almost impossible, let alone the shit I thought about.  But Mike…”
Jeff’s eyes focus on something in the past and Jensen can just see it if he
squints, the outline of a younger, sharper Jeff lurking beneath his scruff and
rawhide.
“He broke me and I loved every second of it, even when I kind of hated it. 
Shit was different.  You wanted to be a top, wanted respect, wanted some boy to
call you Daddy?  You had to earn that, and you earned it at the bottom of
someone’s boot and the end of his belt.”
Jensen’s mouth hangs open as he and Snowball lean in closer.
“Mike taught me everything.  Everything.  Brought me up more than my folks ever
did.  Taught me how to be a man, how to hide in plain sight, see the signs for
others like us.  How to be smart.  Back then, you got caught, you were damn
lucky if all the cops did was shake you down and knock a few teeth out.  Not a
lot of tears for dead faggots back then.”
Jensen’s hands have melded into the bare scrapes of his knees.  He swallows,
feeling every ugly name he’s ever been called melt down inside him as Jeff
smirks.
“He’d take me to these bath houses, you can’t imagine, Jen.  They don’t have
places like that anymore, not since.”
Jeff pushes his glasses up on his temples and rubs at his nose. 
“It was like watching him part the Red Sea.  He’d pull in boy after boy, used
to bring these leashes with him, clip ‘em all together.  By the end of the
night he’d have a dozen angels on a string for me, let me practice on ‘em.”
“That’s why you tie them all together,” Jensen moans, tasting a sea of red-
rimmed boys on his tongue.
Jeff raises one eyebrow as Jensen and the cat smile at him.
“Hey, don’t go tellin’ anyone I stole my best moves, kid.”
“Do you still see him?”
Jeff fixes him with a bare-eyed look that makes Jensen feel very, very young
and very, very small.
“You fucking kids.  You don’t even know your goddam history.”
Jensen’s heart breaks as a reaper shadow flits over Jeff’s face.
“Mike died of AIDS in ’89, along with just about everyone I knew.  You fucking
kids with your prep and your drug cocktails. There were years when you’d go to
four, five funerals in one day, kept seeing the same crowd.  It got smaller and
smaller every year.”
Jeff’s eyes are dark enough to swim in.
“I took care of him, right till the end.  He was a big fucking dude, bigger
than Jason when I met him.  He weighed 96 pounds when he died.  I could carry
him in my arms like he was nothing.  Gave me shit right to the end, too, used
to tell me he was still testing me to see if I was ready to Daddy a boy of my
own while I was spoon feeding him fucking oatmeal.”
Snowball can hold a lifetime of tears in his fur.
“They wouldn’t let me in the room with him, family only. Fucking doctors
treated you like shit then, wouldn’t shake your hand or listen to a goddamn
thing you had to say.  Mike died alone and all his service benefits went to
some bible thumping niece who wouldn’t tell any of us where they were holding
the funeral.”
A tear slides down Jeff’s face and Jensen will never, ever tell anyone about
it.
“He used to ask me, right at the end, he used to ask me to kill him.  End it. 
We all knew what happened, we’d all seen it.  My biggest regret is that I never
had the balls to give him that.”
Jensen’s heart is always biggest when he’s on his knees.  He crawls closer to
Jeff, a few dragging seconds before he lays one Snowball-soft hand on Jeff’s
boot.
“After he died, I tried … I tried to get it.  It was easy enough to spot the
ones who had it and sure, every other young queen with a folding table was
trying to stuff condoms down your throat, but.  It was like the end of the
world.  You’d see these guys, these vain motherfuckers and now they had these
awful scabs on their faces, you’d see ‘em out fucking everything like they were
gonna drop dead if they stopped long enough to think about it.  I took so many
of those boys home.”
Snowball lands next to Jeff’s leg, settling beside him and looking up as Jeff
draws in something too rough to just be a breath.
“I don’t think I can get it.”
He looks in Jensen’s eyes and Jensen can see every line on his face, each
wrinkle etched in place with some dead man’s name buried under it.
“They say there’s people who’re just resistant or some shit.  Me and a couple
old bastards, we’re all that left. We’re all…”
Jensen inches closer and lays his head on Jeff’s lap, letting his tears soak
into Jeff’s soft old jeans while Jeff pets through his hair and the Midwest
races past them.
~
Jeff’s pick: American V by Johnny Cash
~
There’s something about getting fucked over a toilet that makes Jensen giggly. 
That and the blow.  The whole bus is in fine party form tonight, with sin in
solid, liquid, and gaseous form floating around in every square inch of space. 
Jensen doesn’t need to feel his face when Jared’s got his blister kissed thumb
strumming in next to his cock.
The start of a tour is always good.
Opening night at Ottobar had been packed, not that Jensen had expected anything
less from the birthplace of John Waters and Edgar Allen Poe.  They’d debuted
Adrianne’s ode to pregnant chicks and Jeff’s newest song about bootblacking and
Jared had played every note with fingers that smelled like spit and Jensen’s
soft parts.
Those fingers taste like heaven in his mouth.
Half of Jensen’s clothes had disappeared before they even made it to the bus. 
Jared always steps off stage with too much sweat and a hard dick but tonight
was better.  A good crowd did things to all of them, sharpened that blood scent
simmer until each one of them stalked off stage ready to change the DNA profile
of an entire city.  Even Chad had been flushed with their dog-hungry snarl,
grabbing a pretty slice of boypussy for himself after the rest of the band had
taken their pick of the throng.  A flock of army recruits for Jeff, an armful
of dreadlocks for Jason, a suspiciously short and doe-eyed brunette for
Adrianne, and a pause from Jared with Jensen’s tiptoe tongue in his mouth and a
hand on his ratty shorts.
“Are you two…”
“Twins?”
Jared’s tongue is still doing double time on his teeth when Jensen’s mouth
falls open.  Spanish boys, tall and whipcord muscle all over with black coffee
eyes and matching mouths.  They’re Jared’s age, maybe a little older.  In inky
black jeans and Clorox-bright wifebeaters, they’re cleaner than the usual
cockstarved guys that hang around to eyefuck the band like Jensen used to.
Jensen turns, letting his hand painted pink snout shirt stretch across his
boybait chest and his back arch enough to show his bruised hipbones.  He never
stays totally still when he’s in Jared’s orbit, not when Jared’s hard cock
presses against his back and his hand splays possessively over Jensen’s
bandanna-wrapped neck.
“Kiss him.”
Jensen points at one brother and grins brat-bright at the other.
Jeff’s got a pair of brothers that would burn the panties off a nun but even
they aren’t twins.  They look around nervously, both licking their lips as they
take in the milling backdoor crowd.  One of them looks Jensen up and down while
he steps in a little closer to his brother. 
It’s the way they hesitate before they kiss that makes Jensen’s cock strain
against his fly a little. 
“You think their dicks match?”
Jared’s hand closes over Jensen’s own dick, grinding the fat angle of his thumb
slow and hard like he’s easing a kink in his neck. 
“Please, Daddy?”
Jensen writhes around in Jared’s arms to beg up his best Bambi face. 
Everyone in the band has such good stories, lewd tales they hoard like gems and
share around the campfire of a rehearsal lull.  Back on the bus with two
matching faces kneeling in the bathroom door and jerking each other off, Jensen
smiles, his lips tugging up against the spit-soaked bandanna gagged into his
mouth.
Remember the time Jared brought twins on the bus and just made them watch while
he fucked Jensen?
~
Jared’s pick: Power, Corruption & Lies by New Order
~                                                                                                                                 
Jensen’s looking for his own notebook when he finds it.
His fingers brush over old gum wrappers and half-chewed pens before he feels
the spiral edge of a notebook tucked down deep next to Jared’s flimsy
mattress.  He’s let Jared see him cry but he’s still skittish about the dumb
shit he draws.  Jared would probably laugh at his crude cartoons.
He knows it’s not his notebook before he even sees the cover.  A lifetime of
hiding the shit he really loved in every nook and cranny of his beige hell
bedroom meant he could find most of his things by touch alone.
He still opens it.
Little boy blue
Little boy who
Cut right through
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next few lines are blacked out too well for Jensen’s to make out.  He flips
past a few pages.
Bleed for me and beg for more
Bleed me dry and call me yours
Two more pages and the word JAILBAIT written five times in a row.  Jensen
knocks his knuckle against his dick-chapped lip.  Just a coincidence but still
it makes him smile.
Taste you on the inside
Bleeding like a new bride
Come enough to slick glide
Give it up and knuckle hide
Let me see you wrist ride
That one’s gonna be good.  Jensen flips the page, wanting more and freezing
when he sees the next word.
Jensen.
Jensen tucks the notebook and the overeager sparrow wings of his heart back
under Jared’s bed.
~
Jensen’s pick: Live Through This by Hole
 
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