Happy new year?

[longsufferingly]

So I was going to work on more drabbles tonight but instead the drabble I did for sadcypress a few days ago refused to shut up. So here is that. sadcypress's drabble is the last scene, and that is why it is Jensen's POV while the rest is Jared's. I don't know, I really dislike rewriting scenes I have already written. I hope this will not upset anyone too much.

Title: Numquam Iam Posthac Basia Surripiam
Author: chash
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Latin geekery.
Word Count: 1961.
Summary: In which Jared Padalecki is a classics major and Jensen is his (not really) long-suffering TA.
Notes: In most things that are related to Latin poetry, I am always inspired by my high school Latin teacher, and by Tom Stoppard's The Invention Of Love. Title from Catullus 99.
Disclaimer: I make this shit up.


Jared has always been really fucking good at Latin.

He started taking it in seventh grade because his mama said it was good for the SATs, and because she said if he knew Latin, he'd understand where a lot of English words come from. She didn't actually say that as its own bonus, she said that was how it helped with SATs, but he really liked that idea; he likes knowing where things come from. And the way Latin fits together, the way the words can go in any order and still--eventually--make perfect sense if you know how to look at it? He loves that. His own words have often been like that: he talks fast and often, a jumble of sounds, and maybe that's why he's so good at Latin.

He managed to get one absolutely fucking perfect score on the National Latin Exam in high school, and he was actually kind of depressed by it, because what was he supposed to do with a consuming passion for a long-dead language? Other than become a high school teacher or professor or eccentric millionaire. He'd actually really like the third one, but unfortunately, if being a Latin scholar was lucrative, he wouldn't be having this problem in the first place.

But his mama told him to do what he loved, and that's why he's a junior in college and planning to major in classics, and staring in indignation at the quiz he's just gotten back from the legendary Professor Kripke.

Jared is nothing if not willing to fight for what he thinks is right.

He corners Kripke after class. "Sir?"

"Yes?" asks Kripke. He looks confused.

"I'm Jared Padalecki," he says. "I wanted to ask you about my quiz."

"Jensen does the quizzes," says Kripke absently. "Talk to him."

"Jensen?"

"The TA. He's in your syllabus. If you have a problem with your grade, go to his office hours."

And then Kripke left.

Jared huffed out a sigh. Why were legendary professors always such assholes?

*

Jensen Ackles, his TA, has a dorky name and office hours from 5 to 7. Crew practice ends at 6, so Jared thinks he'll have just enough time to grab a quick shower and bike over to find Jensen and demand a recount on his grade.

When he does get there, he's kind of a weird combination of wet and sweaty, but he smells okay and probably doesn't look like a total crazy person, and he doesn't really care what his TA thinks of him anyway, as long as he gives back those points that Jared clearly deserves.

He squares his shoulders, reviews his many awesome arguments, and knocks on the door.

"Come in," says the guy inside, and Jared does.

Jensen Ackles wears glasses. That's about all Jared correctly guessed about him. In addition to wearing glasses, he's wearing a tight black t-shirt and old jeans, and he's got a pen tucked behind his ear as he reads Aeschylus in what appears to be the original Greek. He's got a really, really good body, ridiculously pretty eyelashes, and the fullest lips Jared has ever seen.

In short, he's sex on legs, and his legs aren't bad either.

"Hi?" Jensen tries.

Jared realizes he's been gaping like a fish instead of making introductions and getting to the point.

"Hi," he says, flashing his hugest, flirtiest grin. "I'm Jared Padalecki," he says. "I'm in Kripke's Horace and Catullus class? I hear you're my TA."

"You hear right," says Jensen, smiling back. "Have a seat, Jared." He gestures to the chair across from him. Jared sits. "So what's up?"

"I got a bone to pick about this quiz," he says, pulling it out.

Jensen raises an eyebrow. "A bone?"

"I think I deserve a few more points."

"Jared," says Jensen, sounding a little shocked, "you got the highest score in the class."

Jared blinks. "I did?"

"Pretty sure," says Jensen. "By a lot. And you haven't got the most forgettable name."

Jared forces down his swell of pride--yeah, he knows he rocks, but he still likes it when other people tell him he rocks--and gets back to the point. "Look, Jensen--Mr. Ackles?"

"Jensen. I'm just a TA, dude."

"Okay, Jensen. I'm really not trying to be a dick here. I just think you're wrong."

Jensen looks amused. "Okay, I'll bite. What am I wrong about?"

"I think the text is corrupt," says Jared.

Jensen raises his eyebrow again. He must practice that in front of the mirror or something, because Jared can't do it for shit. "Corrupt. Seriously?"

"Latin scholarship is an imperfect world!" says Jared. "Yeah, okay, Horace and Catullus usually turn out pretty well, but this isn't Horace or Catullus. This is Propertius."

If Jensen is surprised Jared can sight-identify Propertius, he doesn't show it. "Yeah, it is."

"Propertius is still being debated. And I think this one's wrong. Look, I wrote in the corrections here."

Jensen leans across so he can look at Jared's paper. This brings him very close to Jared. From this distance, Jared is aware that Jensen is warm and smells amazing. But that's not the point right now. "I thought those were smudges."

"Look, if this is ablative, then it makes a lot more sense. And then the adjective isn't just left hanging weirdly."

Jensen makes a kind of hmm-ing noise and then looks up at Jared. He has green eyes and his face is even better up close. Jared swallows.

"I'm not sure I agree with you," says Jensen, "but you clearly put a lot of thought into this, and it's a valid interpretation, so I'll give you the points back. Now you're kicking the rest of the class's ass even more."

Jared grins. "Thanks."

Jensen waves his hand. "Just don't make it a habit, man."

"What," Jared asks, "being right?"

"Storming into my office," says Jensen, smirking. It looks really good on him. "Get out of here, Padalecki."

Jared grins. "Thanks, Jensen."

Jensen just waves his hand.

*

Naturally, Jared makes it a habit.

Every week after practice, he goes to Jensen's office hours. The first couple times, he comes up with legitimate questions--translation stuff he struggled over for hours. He's already figured it out, of course; Jared hates not understanding things, and he hates not being able to figure stuff out on his own. But Jensen doesn't always give him the answer he got himself, and sometimes Jensen is right, which is actually pretty amazing. Jensen is really smart, and really good at Latin, and he's hot and funny and they get along, in Jared's opinion, like a house on fire.

He realizes, though, that there's this chance that Jensen won't realize that Jared is coming to his office hours to flirt with him. And will, instead, like an idiot, think that Jared actually has legitimate Latin problems, instead of just the problem of wanting in Jensen's pants.

Of course, one week he comes in and Jensen is reading Plato upside down and gets flushed and embarrassed when Jared points it out, so he's pretty sure his interest is returned, and Jensen is just...shy.

It's pretty cute, honestly.

So the next week, he decides to show, very clearly, that he's not coming here because he needs the help.

"I can't make heads or tails of this," says Jared.

"Catullus 48?" asks Jensen, raising his eyebrow. "What's the problem?"

"Everything," says Jared, sighing.

"Give me a little more to work with, Jared."

"Okay, this first word? Mellitos?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

Jensen stares for a long minute. "It's a word. In Latin."

"Oh," says Jared. "It's nominative, right?"

"It's accusative," says Jensen.

"So it doesn't like me."

"Did you hit your head?"

"So...itos makes it diminutive, right?"

"Right."

"So his little melons don't like me."

"Right now, I don't like you."

"You're my TA," says Jared, pouting. "You're supposed to be supportive."

"You're supposed to be not retarded."

Still, Jensen stays half an hour late helping Jared work through his entire translation, and when Jared says, at the end of the poem, in a shocked voice, "Is this about homosexuality?" Jensen gives him a priceless look.

He follows it up with, "That's hot," and Jensen blushes and looks away, and Jared feels like the fucking master.

*

Jensen is reading.

Really, he is.

He isn't glancing at the clock every five seconds to see if it's 6:30 yet.

That would be sad.

He's reading.

And it's 6:28.

He just knows that because he has an excellent innate sense of time.

Not because he's waiting for Jared Padalecki.

Absolutely not.

Jared might not even show up. Sure, he usually shows up for Jensen's Wednesday office hours at 6:30, right after he's done with crew practice, freshly showered with his hair gathering in wet bunches in his eyes, his shirt clinging to his chest and back--

But.

Anyway.

Yeah.

It's not like it's official or anything. Jared just happens to show up.

Usually around that time.

With questions ranging from inane to obvious, that Jensen is pretty sure aren't the real reason Jared comes.

But he thinks it might be an abuse of power to ask out one of his students during office hours. Or not during office hours.

So he hasn't mentioned it.

He's not shy or anything.

He's professional.

It's 6:29.

There's a knock on the door. Jensen startles up, makes sure that Kant is open to a real page and not upside down on his lap, swallows twice, and says, "Come in."

"Hey, Jensen," says Jared, grinning. His shirt is especially clingy today. Jensen does not stare.

"Hey, Jared," he says, doing his best to act surprised. Jared plops down into the chair across from Jensen, looking exhausted. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," says Jared. "My best friends were dating, but now they're breaking up, so I'm stuck in the middle of relationship drama. Plus, practice sucked, plus, I've got all this fucking Horace to translate."

"Hey, don't blame Horace," Jensen protests. "It's not Horace's fault."

"It's a little Horace's fault," says Jared, with the world's most tiny adorable crooked grin.

"Okay," Jensen grants, because he can't really say no to that face. "But not that much. Where's your problem?"

"I don't get it," Jared says flatly.

"Don't get what?"

"My translation doesn't make sense! It's not about anything."

"Diffugere Nives?" Jensen asks, checking his syllabus.

"Yeah. It's just...words," says Jared.

Jensen smiles. "Most stuff is just words."

Jared glares at him, but there's no anger in it. "You know what I meant."

Jensen shrugs. "I can take a look at your translation, but you're right, this one isn't really about much."

Jared hands it over. Jensen scans through. Jared's quick, good at his work, and almost never has real problems. "I'd retranslate 'pius' in fifteen," he says. "Housman uses 'good,' but he was doing poetry, not homework."

Jared nods.

Jensen blinks as he gets to the end. "What dictionary were you using that translated 'caro' as 'fuckbuddy'?"

Jared grins. "It's accurate, right?"

"Depending on your interpretation of the text."

"How do you interpret it?" asks Jared.

Jensen swallows. Talking about the hypothetical homosexual relationship between Theseus and Pirithous is not supposed to get him hot. But this is Jared. Jared pretty much always gets him hot.

"Fuckbuddies is pretty accurate," Jensen agrees, a little hoarsely.

Jared grins. "Your office hours end at seven, right?"

"Yeah," says Jensen, checking his watch. "You've got tons of time."

"Want to get a drink with me after?" asks Jared in a rush.

Jensen stares for a minute.

"Or dinner. A movie. A quick fuck. Whatever."

Jensen swallows again. He's usually not this aware of his swallowing. "All of the above?" he manages.

"That's what I was hoping for," Jared grins.