Mirror, Mirror, Part 3

Later on that evening, coiffed, probed, moisturized and dressed in designer duds, Jared hopped back into Jensen's vehicle to head for his temporary home. Jensen had made sure that he was full of the amazing eggplant parmesan as served up by Canter's Deli, and he could see that his protégé was beginning to relax a little at last.

Smiling to himself, Jensen had been cataloguing Jared's physical qualities ever since they had arisen that day, and he had to admit that the kid had promise. For sure Jared had amazingly attractive eyes, and the dimples that bracketed his blinding smile were deep and gorgeous. He wasn't sure about the rest of his features, marred as they were by the still healing cuts and bruises that he'd sustained from the attack. It was plain that the young man had high, Slavic cheekbones, and Jensen was convinced that he'd be a great photographic model, once he had healed from all his injuries. He had to admit though that Jared was not the most graceful of beings – in fact he was a complete klutz!

As they arrived back at Jensen's house, he was itching to start setting up programs that would remediate the obstacles to his success, because he was absolutely convinced that Jared would be good enough to win his bet for him. All he had to do was make sure that his new model didn't get stage fright. The couch arrived and was duly placed in the hitherto empty living area, and Jensen had to admit that it did actually make the place look more homelike.

He left Jared happily sitting in front of the television with the PS3 while he made for his office to get on the phone, and before too long he was talking to his own personal trainer, doing his best to sweet talk her into coming to work with Jared on a full time basis until he was fit enough to meet the exacting standards that the camera demanded.

"He's got so much potential, Sam," he said, mentally listing the things about Jared that would tempt the notoriously prickly, tough minded Samantha Ferris to come and work with his new project. "Come round for a drink and meet him; you'll see what I mean."

"Jensen, you know I don't work exclusively with anyone that isn't pulling in at least half a million a year. They can't afford me, and I don't need the bad PR." Sam was apparently not as convinced as Jensen that Jared would amount to anything.

"Just come and see him, Sam? Please? For me?" Jensen racked his brains, trying to think of an incentive, and suddenly he got it. PR was what she was worried about, so PR she'd have. "I'm gonna be keeping a photo diary detailing his progress from down and out to superstar, and you'll feature in it. I want you, because you aren't just the best at what you do, you're hot too. But if you don't want to, I can always ask Justin. He's not quite so selective."

That did it. There was dead silence for a moment, and Jensen smirked. He could hear Sam's hiss of disapproval at his mention of Justin Hartley, and he held the phone away from his ear as he awaited the inevitable explosion he knew would follow. Sure enough, it came, but rather than raising her voice she gave a low growl that gave Jensen shivers and made him thank his stars that he wasn't actually close enough to her that she could reach him, because he would fear for his manhood at that moment.

"That charlatan?" Her voice sounded intimidating, but he knew that he'd won. A moment later, she confirmed it. "Okay, Ackles, you win. I'll come take a look at your boy,"

Resisting the urge to leap around, punching the air, Jensen merely murmured his gratitude and repeated his invitation to come to his home to meet Jared. "You know the equipment I have here. I'm pretty sure you'll find a way of assessing him, and you know it'll mean so much to me."

"Yeah, yeah…" Sam seemed to have recovered from her jealous moment, and was back to being the hard-nosed cynic Jensen knew and loved. "You'd better make it worth my while; that's all I'm saying."

"So you'll come over tomorrow and check him out?" He knew he was pushing her, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? He was seizing the moment right here, and nothing was going to stop him. "Sam, you're the best; you know that. I'll have my camera ready, and your name will be the one that's out there when he hits the big time." He was already paging through his iPhone for the next person to call, and had almost dismissed Sam from his thoughts. "So we'll see you tomorrow, right?" he murmured.

"I'll be by at ten," was the reply, and Jensen grinned as he thanked her and put down the phone. So far, so good.

He dialed the next person on his list and smiled as he heard the steady pounding of a techno-beat behind the voice that responded. "City morgue - you stab 'em; we slab 'em."

"Hey, Mike, how's it hangin'?" Jensen's voice had a laugh in it as he heard his favorite stylist's latest response. "You collecting cadavers now?"

"Jensen, my man!" Mike sounded ecstatic to hear from his friend. "Gotta tell you that nothing's hangin' right now. Everything I've got is drawn up tight as a drum."

"Good to hear." Jensen dropped into his chair and put his feet on the desk. "Hey, I need your help."

"Anything for my buddy," was the enthusiastic response. "You know I love you." Mike's voice oozed sincerity. "Name it."

"I've got a project." Jensen grinned as he began to describe the situation he was in, and the events that had led up to it. "So what I have is what you might call a diamond in the rough. He's got incredible potential, but right now he's quite a way from achieving it. What I need is for you to take him in hand and…"

"…Recreate him in my image?" Mike actually sounded excited by the prospect, and Jensen suppressed a laugh at the thought of how Jared might look once he'd assimilated the whole Rosenberg persona.

"Yeah, man. He's a tabula rasa." The grin was still on Jensen's lips as he wound up their conversation. "Think of him as a totally blank canvas that you can transform into a work of art. You're the only one I can rely on to do that. What do you say?"

"What could I possibly say? He sounds like an excellent subject for my talents. Usual rates apply, of course?" Mike's voice was crisp, but Jensen still couldn't help wondering if his chosen style guru would remember their conversation in the morning. "I'll come over to your place tomorrow afternoon, if you like."

"Sounds good to me, man. Yeah, usual rates," said Jensen, thanking his stars that Mike wasn't doubling his fee even as he was penciling in a checkmark next to Mike's name on his blotter. "Want me to remind you in the morning?"

"Works for me." Mike was totally unashamed at his own inability to retain information. This was a dance the two of them had done many times before, and Jensen knew that to have Mike on his team he might have to resort to strategies that somehow never made it into the papers, thank goodness. He'd do what he had to, up to and including going to fetch Mike and strong-arming him around to his home. That was just how Mike was. "See you tomorrow," murmured Jensen. "2pm. I'll email you, phone you, whatever. If you're not at home, I'll kill your fuckin' cat; you got that?"

"Oh, come on, dude, don't be like that." Mike sounded stricken. "Mr. Mephistopheles would be upset, and so would I."

"That's what I was banking on," said Jensen as he cut the connection. Two for two. Now there was only one more person to line up, and in some ways this one was going to be the toughest of them all to get on board. Gritting his teeth, he dialed Katie Cassidy.

Katie had been a ballerina until a car accident had robbed her of part of her left foot. She was still a dancer, and although she had moved from appearing onstage to shaping talent that would someday become a shadow of what she herself had been, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

Knowing that Katie would be harder to sell than either Sam or Mike, Jensen didn't dive straight into his project. "Hey, Kate, you never called me back about that photo spread I wanted to do. What the fuck?"

"Jensen?" Katie's voice was always sexy, but right now it sounded downright pornographic, and Jensen made a mental note to invite her over to show her his etchings. He was far more interested in cock than pussy, but there was something about Katie that always pushed all his buttons. He rather liked having his buttons pushed.

"Katie, I need you." Jensen put his soul into those four words.

"Jensen?" Her voice was colder, as if she'd rumbled him, even though he knew that his every word, every nuance had oozed sincerity. "You only need? You don't want?"

"Baby," he murmured, trying his hardest to sound desperate. "If I thought that what I wanted would move you, I'd have told you about it. Need trumps want every time; am I wrong?"

"No, you fucker, you're not wrong." She sighed audibly, and Jensen held the phone a little further from his ear. She gave a little giggle, and he could imagine her flicking her hair back coyly. "So what do you need Katie for, Jennybean?" she asked him, cooing seductively.

"I've got a new model, and he's got a problem with one of his knees." Jensen was picking his words with care. "He's got surgery scheduled for Monday, but he's going to need a whole bunch of work to get him up to standard afterward. Right now he's a complete klutz. You're the only one that can help."

"But why should I?" She was still using her little girl voice, but there was an edge to it now. Jensen nodded. He'd been expecting something like this.

"Well, because you love me?" he murmured. "And you love the fact that I'm gonna be doing a whole photo spread on the way you transform him from zero to hero."

Her voice was restored to its adult delivery as she considered that. "Tempting, darling, very tempting, but I don't know…"

"Jeez, Kitty-cat, you have to help me. I've got a bet going with Steve and…" Jensen wasn't sure when his voice had changed from amused flippancy to outright begging, but there was an unmistakably schoolboy whine in the last sentence. Fortunately, Katie didn't seem to notice.

"You mean it's a chance to strike a blow to that Carlson's ego?" she asked, and there was a tone to her voice that made Jensen hope that he never roused Katie's ire.

"Uh… I suppose you could put it that way." He began to explain the bet to her, and the resulting, tinkling laughter had an edge to it that made his blood run cold.

"Oh, stop, stop. I have to see this paragon of yours," she said. "If it puts sand in that asshole's Vaseline, I'll give it my best shot."

Jensen suddenly recalled that Steve and Katie had once been an item, and breathed out a thank you to the listening gods that he'd mentioned the musician. He was well aware that it was a good idea to quit while he was ahead though, and he merely muttered a few words of gratitude. Three for three, he thought as he invited Katie to come meet her new student. There would be time enough later to tell her that she'd be working with Sam Ferris. He really didn't know how the two of them got on, but he was sure that they knew each other. Tinseltown was, after all, a small, incestuous society, and both Katie and Sam were at the very pinnacle of their professions.

"Don't you worry, Jennybean," she cooed, returning to her little girl voice. "He'll be dancing like a pro by the time I'm done with him."

"Come on over and meet him?" said Jensen, wincing at the much hated nickname, but not wanting to do anything that might change her mind at this late juncture.

"I'll be there in ten," was her sweetly uttered reply. "I can't wait to get started."

She'd hung up before he could say another word, and Jensen had no choice to do anything but go back to the living room where Jared had been working his way through the stack of games that Jensen had accumulated for the PS3.

"This totally rocks!" Jared's beaming smile showed dimples that Jensen could slide quarters into if he were so inclined. "You wanna challenge me to Guitar Hero? I'll bet you five bucks I can beat you."

Nodding, Jensen took his place at Jared's side on the couch and gestured for Jared to set up the console. Before long the two of them were taking it in turns to play through "Smoke on the Water," and Jensen was snorting as he realized just how much better at this his companion was.

"You freak," he growled, watching Jared's long fingers spider over the guitar controls, skittering through the riffs on the most advanced level. "You've hustled me, haven't you?"

Throwing back his head, Jared roared with laughter, and that's how Katie found them when she strolled through the patio doors having made her way round the side of the house to the pool.

"Jennybean," she cooed, strolling over to fling her arms around Jensen and deliver a couple of air kisses to his stubbled cheek. "Now that I'm here, I want to see your wonderful discovery. Where is he? Is this him?" She twirled out of Jensen's grasp and turned to Jared, who was still lounging on the couch Jensen had bought that day, controller in hand. "Stand up," she said, her voice commanding, and Jared, his eyes wide, rose nervously to his feet and stood shifting from foot to foot, unsure who or what was inspecting him.

"My, my, my," she trilled. "Aren't you the big one? You wouldn't throw him back, would you?"

"Th… throw me back?" Jared gulped, wondering what was coming. "Throw me back where?"

"I'm only teasing, darling." The little girl voice was back, matched with a little girl pout as Katie patted Jared's cheek. "I'm the one who's going to make you into a star, my love. Just think, in no time at all you'll be dancing."

The word 'dancing' brought a look of total panic to Jared's eyes, but he said nothing, and Jensen nodded his approval. The boy had discretion, and that was a very good thing.

It wasn't long before Katie had been handed a glass of wine, taken a seat on the couch beside her new victim and begun to quiz him about exactly who he was, where he'd come from and why. She was small, wiry and elegant, and Jensen had to suppress a grin at the terror on Jared's features at the prospect of associating with this tiny blonde whirlwind. "I came because I got a manager who was going to set me up with an audition," he told her, once he could get a word in edgewise. "I was recruited when I was in a play, and he…"

"What manager was that? Did you have to do any dancing? It's always hard to judge without seeing you move, but I hear you need to get your knee fixed before you can really start working. We'll just have to concentrate on your arms for now."

She'd leaned forward to set down her empty glass, and Jared, flinging his arms out to demonstrate that they were not only present but also in full working order, promptly clipped her around the ear. True, he was mortified by the result of his grand gesture, but it was fairly obvious that Katie was unimpressed, and it wasn't long before she was taking her leave of them, murmuring that Jensen should call her once Jared was sufficiently recovered from the surgery.

As they watched her car take off up the driveway, Jared turned to Jensen. "Jeez, man, do I have to…?"

"Yeah, dude, I'm afraid you do, but think of it this way; you have to suffer to be beautiful." Smirking, Jensen rose to his feet to go and find another couple of beers.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Things were moving rapidly. Jared's knee surgery was performed on schedule on the Monday, and for the next little while, his leg encased in a plaster cast, he was free from Katie's attentions. However, he was barely recovered from the anesthetic when Sam descended on him – like a plague of boils, he later told his mother on the phone – and set him to work out. Running and cycling were out of the question until his leg was healed, but that didn't stop Sam from working him until every useable limb felt like jelly, and his entire body had as much muscle tone as a wet noodle.

Throughout the entire process, Jensen took photographs and film to record what was happening. Although that was weird to Jared at first, pretty soon he no longer noticed, getting into each workout with increasing enthusiasm until he lost himself in the lift and pump of muscle, and his mind found a place where he was totally at peace.

Jensen had taken to working out with Jared and he watched his protégé's progress with something like awe. He'd been lean and wiry to start with, but under Sam's tutelage he was starting to build serious muscle, and was beginning to look very nice indeed. Jensen was starting to think that winning his bet would be a shoo-in. He wasn't sure exactly when it was that he realized for the first time that he wanted Jared. It had grown on him slowly but surely, and by the time he'd actually noticed what he was feeling, he was in way too deep to back away.

He'd watched as Jared submitted, apparently willingly, to Sam's regime of terror, and he seemed to be thriving on it, but feeling somewhat guilty Jensen had decided that he would do what Jared was made to do as a declaration of solidarity. Now he was beginning to think that Sam was a daughter of Satan.

The first visit from Mike was an interesting experience for all concerned – as Jared said afterwards, it was interesting in the same way as the famous Chinese curse! Mike arrived bearing a tape measure and a laptop, and proceeded to put Jared through his paces, wearing a manic expression that boded no good for anyone. He strutted around Jared, who gazed, wide eyed at the vision wearing purple crushed velvet bell bottoms and an emerald green silk caftan. As it turned out, Jensen didn’t have to go fetch him, and Mr. Mephistopheles could breathe a sigh of relief. Not so, Jared!

What seemed like hours went by, during which time Mike measured everything Jared would allow him to get his hands on, and made a determined attempt to measure everything else as well, reducing his client to nervous giggles and causing Jensen to bite his cheeks and then go outside, ostensibly to smoke, but actually to laugh until he cried.

Mike had Jared strip down to his boxers, and stand there, clad only in his underwear and plaster cast, while he circled the poor boy, making half heard comments and prodding bits of Jared for no apparent reason. When he finally allowed Jared to resume his clothing, he clapped his hands to his eyes with a shudder, giving the impression that he had either been mortally insulted or suddenly contracted a terrible case of dysentery. Jared gazed at him, aghast, but Jensen, who knew Mike somewhat better, having worked with him before and seen his modus operandi, gave him a wink and a smile, and Jared relaxed a little.

His relief was short lived. Mike was apparently not happy with anything about Jared. He peered at his skin and declared that he required a full beautification regimen. He ran his fingers through Jared's hair and announced that he would need a trichologist, and who knew what weird preparations besides. He allowed that the style suited Jared, but then went into great detail as to how it would look so much better if it were done by him. He declared that Jared's skin was in bad shape and recommended skin care treatments, depilatories, lotions and a masseur, who he declared would give Jared's skin a glow and make him look more appealing.

By the time he reached Jared's clothing, Jared appeared to be on the brink of tears. Apparently his feet should never ever be thrust into flip-flops – Jared's chosen footwear. He should stop wearing the baggy, knee length camo shorts he favored and start wearing figure hugging jeans and tight T-shirts. Privately, Jensen agreed with Mike on that one, but he didn't say anything, merely watching as Mike cast his eyes up to heaven and prayed for something – anything – that would improve the poor specimen that was now cowering on the couch, thoroughly demoralized.

With Michael's coming, Jared's peace was finally and completely at an end.

Michael didn't just torment Jared himself. Oh, no! Michael had minions, and they descended on Jared in battalions, Misha, the masseur, was a sad eyed brunet with fingers of steel. He proceeded to prod, push and pummel Jared whilst regaling him with a monologue about how he'd built his house from scratch. Jared had listened in awe for the first five minutes, and then slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic movement of Misha's hands on his body.

His hairdresser was called Lauren, and she not only totally re-sculpted his hair – that was her term rather than Jared's – she insisted on shaving him too, and there was one particularly fraught moment where she and Mike hovered over him, debating the length of his sideburns. Jared almost got to his feet and ran for it. If he hadn't still been healing from the surgery he would have done it. As it was, he began to haul himself out of his chair and as one, Lauren and Mike seized an arm each and thrust him back into it without either of them deigning to notice him or pausing their argument at all. Demoralized, Jared remained, cowering for the rest of the session.

It was when the beautician arrived that Jared was finally moved to remonstrate with Jensen, who had been close at hand throughout the entire experience - or at least for that part when he wasn’t outside having a smoke and giggle break - watching every detail of what they were doing to his protégé with a mounting combination of lust and terror. Jared took one look at the beautician and grabbed for Jensen's arm, dragging him close.

"Dude, do I have to have all this shit?" His voice was plaintive as he lay flat on his back on what he'd come to think of as the torture bench, his face plastered with some green concoction and cucumber slices over his eyes. "I'm a guy, and this bozo wants to curl my eyelashes. I ask you, is that fair?"

"Fair?" Jensen snickered as he studied Jared with a smirk on his face. "You're gonna be the next face of America. You can't possibly do that without curly eyelashes. Isn't that so, Chad?"

Chad Lindberg, who was a tall, skinny guy, with long, attenuated limbs, and who put Jensen in mind of a spider monkey, put one hand to his forehead dramatically and tossed his head. "We're working with blank canvas here, Jenny-baby! We have to find his look! It needs to be organic, an evolution. I'm still trying to learn who he is, but when we achieve his look it's going to be fabulous! Just trust me."

Jensen listened, open-mouthed, to the beautician's words, and then bit his lip. "Uh… It's Jensen, thank you, and yeah, I'm sure that when you find it, it'll be pretty damned fabulous, but I kinda liked him with straight eyelashes."

Jared, still supine and laden with goop, mumbled what sounded like an agreement, and Chad threw up his arms, horrified. "You just don't understand," he growled. "Nobody understands!" He clasped his forehead again, and smudged his goth eye makeup, his eyes bright with tears. "An artist has needs," he added.

Feeling a dreadful urge to giggle, Jensen merely nodded gravely and backed away, choosing to start fiddling with his cameras rather than provoke any further histrionics. On the bench, Jared uttered a small, defeated sound, and Jensen grinned.

Chad had just begun to buff Jared's fingernails, and Jensen had begun to sneak a bunch of candid shots of Jared's predicament, when there was a call from the hallway, and a short, muscular man clad in jeans that fit where they touched, and a checked shirt with the sleeves ripped out, came down the hall and into the living room.

"I see you got company, Jen. Am I in the way?"

"Chris!" Jensen set down his camera and moved forward to greet the newcomer. "When did you get back? How come you didn't call me to tell me you were coming?"

"I'm just visiting for the weekend," murmured Chris, reaching to pull Jensen down into a kiss. "The album's almost complete, and I figured that the last couple of songs could wait ‘til Monday. I wanted to see you; been missing you."

As he was talking, he was eying the cowering figure of Jared curiously, and Chad, who was now busily working his magic on Jared's toenails, was studying the newcomer with a certain amount of defiance. "Look at you," he trilled. "You have split ends. We need to do something about those, or they'll ruin your whole look."

Taking a step back, Chris looked at Jensen. "What the fuck…?" he asked. "Is this some weird commercial you're shooting? And who's the green yeti? Anyone I should know?"

"Don't panic." Jensen was finding it really hard to keep a straight face. "Underneath all that frosting lies a real boy."

Of course, Chris was fascinated, and he was soon filled in as to who Jared was, and why he was there in Jensen's living room, currently being made new.

"Trust Steve," smirked Chris. "I'm gonna need to have words with that boy, I can tell."

Whatever Jensen had been going to say was interrupted by Chad, who was suddenly between them, arms waving in a theatrical manner. "Now please," he said, his voice achieving an intensity that made every word somehow terribly important. "We must have silence while I work. I absolutely can't grok my canvas in fullness without silence."

Without further ado, Chad turned back to Jared, assuming that he would be granted his demanded silence. Shoulders shaking, Jensen elbowed Chris and picked up his camera.

Busy with cotton wool and cleanser, Chad ignored them loftily as he began to work on Jared, scooping away the preparation he'd ladled onto Jared earlier and whisking away the cucumber segments to reveal the man beneath. "My dear, you're positively glowing, he trilled. "I believe we are going to achieve your true potential. It will merely take a little vision. Mr. Michael must come at once; I need to consult with him."

He produced his cell phone with a flourish, and Jensen decided that it was the perfect moment to take Chris by the hand and get out of there before there were two of them emoting all over the place. Abandoning Jared to Chad and Mike’s tender mercies, he grabbed Chris and fled.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Later, sated and drowsy from their lovemaking, Jensen tried his best to explain what he was trying to do with Jared. Chris just didn't seem to get it, and said so.

"Dude, if you want to play lady bountiful to someone, why not do what the rest of us do and adopt a starving Somalian or something." Chris was lounging against Jensen's teak headboard, proudly naked, deep chest sheened with sweat. He turned to Jensen, a sneer on his handsome face. "Nobody's ever gonna mistake you for Angelina Jolie, or Madonna or whoever. You don't have the tits, even if your name is Jenny."

"Oh, fuck you, Kane." Jensen shoved himself up to sit and glare at his lover. "Did you come all the way from Nashville for the weekend just to pick a fight? If you did, then you'd better go back again, because I'm not in the mood."

"Calm down, Jen." Chris reached to trace the knobs on Jensen's spine, smirking a little when Jensen turned back to him, apparently mollified by the gentle touch. "You an' me are gonna get together with my man Steve tonight and make some beautiful music, aren't we? He's at Hotel Café, and we're gonna be on stage with him, or I won't be responsible for his pain." He laughed softly. "Come on, Jen. You can't let a little thing like the jolly green giant in there come between you and me, now can you?"

He pulled Jensen back, kissing along his jaw to his ear and nibbling there as he murmured, "Can you? Can you?" in a whiny way.

Laughing, Jensen shoved him off, swearing at him, but he was obviously placated, and it wasn't long before Chris had pulled him back down into a tangle of arms and legs, and for a while nothing more was said about the matter.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~





Part 4

Back to the master post