Fic: When Your Best Friend's a Wookie
Title: When Your Best Friend's a Wookie
Fandom: J2 AU
Characters: Jensen, Jared, Chris and Steve
Rating: PG 13
Wordcount: 3000+
Summary: Chris and Steve get pissed that Jensen has been ditching them all the time, so Jensen decides it's about time they met Jared.
Notes: Sequel to You Know What They Say, where Jared was Bigfoot and Jensen came across him while hiking.
This has been sitting on my hard drive forever, I finally got around to finishing this little thing.
“Let me get this straight. The reason you haven’t been hanging out with me and Steve on the few breaks from filming you get is because for the last six months you’ve been secretly hiking through that national park we went to last year to hang out with your new best friend who is actually Bigfoot?”
Jensen shifted guiltily, Chris’s words doing their job to remind him why he was such a pathetic excuse for a friend, not only for seeing them less and less once his career took off, but for practically ignoring them for half a year so he could go and see Jared almost every break he got. Both Chris and Steve were fed up with it--especially Chris, who had flown all the way to Canada to confront Jensen in his Vancouver apartment, since Jensen hadn’t made it down to L.A. to see them in months--and Jensen felt guilty enough that he figured he owed them the truth. No matter how crazy it sounded.
He took a deep breath. “Uh, yes? But don’t call him Bigfoot. He gets really offended.”
There was a brief, tense silence as Chris just stared at him. Then, “How stoned are you?”
Jensen huffed. “I’m not on drugs, Chris. And I’m not crazy either. I’ll prove it to you. You, me and Steve are all going back to the park, and you guys are going to meet Jared.”
“Jared, the eight foot tall, furry, completely not mythical Bigfoot.”
“Right.” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, his expression daring Chris to argue with him.
Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Aw hell, why not? S’not like I got anything better to do.”
Jensen grinned at him. “Great. I’ll call Steve.” It was a good thing he had most of Friday and all of Monday off this week. He’d need the long weekend if he was escaping to the mountains for this little friendly meeting.
Chris dropped down onto Jensen’s couch, wearily rubbing one hand across his face, still looking like he couldn’t decide if Jensen was playing an elaborate hoax on him, or if he really was crazy. “Tell Steve to pack the tequila,” he muttered. “I think we’re going to need it.”
Jensen figured he was probably right.
---
Three days later Chris and Jensen were hiking up the foothills with a very skeptical Steve in tow. Like Chris, Steve thought Jensen was either crazy or on drugs, but unlike Chris he wasn’t willing to indulge him. It took showing Steve the picture Jensen took of him and Jared when they first met to convince him to come along, and even then it was with great reluctance. He did however, keep his unhappiness with the situation to a disapproving scowl, whereas Chris kept a running commentary about “tromping through the fucking mountains with a crazy man to see Sasquatch” and how it “better not be some goddamn prank or someone is dead.”
By the second hour off the path Jensen had had enough. He stopped and turned around to glare at Chris, observing with some pleasure that both he and Steve were lagging behind. The hiking trips over the past six months had done well to get Jensen back into shape. Chris also took note of the distance between them and used that to start another stream of curses.
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Chris, will you give it a rest already?”
Chris scowled at him. “Well how much further is this cave or whatever it is you are dragging us to?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Another hour? Shit, where the hell does this guy live?”
Jensen gave an exasperated sigh. “What did you expect? That he would live on the side of the road somewhere? A nice two story brick house with a fence and a garden? A mailbox with an address and zip code? He’s fucking Bigfoot.”
“Holy shit. Jensen--” Steve started, but Chris talked right over him.
“I know that, Jen. But why the hell is it so far? This is the middle of fucking nowhere!”
He rolled his eyes again. “That’s the whole point.”
“Jensen.”
“Yeah, but--”
“Chris!” Steve snapped. “Shut the hell up. Jensen, uh, that wouldn’t be Jared would it?” Eyes wide, he nodded at something over Jensen’s shoulder.
Jensen spun around, grinning when he caught sight of Jared leaning against a tree a hundred or so feet away. “Hey!” he called out, waving one arm in the air. His grin faded when Jared didn’t immediately wave back or start heading toward him. Usually, as soon as Jared saw Jensen he would bound forward to meet him, smiling so wide it was easily visible through all his fur. Jensen had come to expect it--Jared was always a giant ball of energy. Like a puppy, if that puppy was eight feet tall and looked like it could break Jensen by breathing on him too hard.
But Jared wasn’t bounding forward, too excited at the sight of Jensen to stay back, and as Jensen started jogging to get closer (so he was a little excited too, okay? After all, Jared was his best friend and he didn’t get to see him very often) he could see that Jared’s usual grin was missing, replaced by a tense, wary look instead.
“Hey, man,” Jensen gasped out once he was standing in front of Jared. “Didn’t expect to see me so soon, did you?”
“No, not really,” Jared says absently, still not smiling and staring pensively over Jensen’s left shoulder to where Chris and Steve were making their way towards them--at a much more sedate pace than Jensen’s. “Who’re they?”
This wasn’t like the Jared Jensen saw every time he came up here. Jared’s voice was flat and emotionless, his big, furry arms crossed in front of his chest in a defensive pose as he leaned stiffly against the tree, expression blank, distant, and Jensen floundered for a moment. Jared hadn’t been distant with Jensen since the first time they met, and Jensen didn’t know how to handle this abrupt switch.
Jared eyes suddenly zeroed in on Jensen’s, eyes dark and intense. “Reporters?” he asked dully, and few months ago Jensen might not have been able to hear the hurt underlying that short, flat tone, but Jared became very quickly one of the people he knew best in the world, and Jensen immediately felt like hurting every single person who’d used Jared for tabloid fame in the past and put that dead, disappointed look on his face.
“No, Jared. God, no,” he rushed out. “I swear, I wouldn’t do that to you. They’re just my friends, Chris and Steve. Remember the guys I was camping with the first time? That’s them.”
“Oh.” Jared eyes flickered back over Jensen’s shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion, and yeah, Jensen could get that. It’s not like he’d ever talked about bringing them here before.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and shifted a little awkwardly as he explained. “They, uh, got pissed at me for disappearing all the time when I got breaks from filming. I finally just had to tell them about you.”
Jared’s mouth twitched--a movement just barely discernable underneath all the fur. “And so you had to bring them here for them to believe you.”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda. Yeah.” Jensen looked closely at him, trying to see if this bothered Jared, but his friend just shook his head with a smile, shoulders relaxing as his arms finally dropped from the defensive position. He wanted to ask, just to make sure, maybe even assure him once more that Jensen would never sell Jared out like that, but Chris and Steve finally caught up with them, taking away the chance.
They stopped a few feet short of Jared and Jensen, clearly keeping their distance as they gaped at the tall, very hairy myth that was standing beside him. For a short, tense moment no one said anything. Then Steve stalked forward, ignoring Jared’s slight recoil, reached out for some of the hair on Jared’s arm and tugged.
“Ow!” Jared jerked away, one hand coming to rub at the spot. “What was that for?”
“Huh.” Steve turned to Jensen, eyebrows raised. “This wasn’t a joke.”
“Right. I‘ve been telling you that.”
“So I just pulled the hair of the real life, honest to god, Bigfoot.”
Jared huffed, still rubbing at his arm. “I am not Bigfoot. That is not my name.”
Steve sighed and ran a hand tiredly over his face. Jensen didn’t even try to hide his smirk.
“Fuck. I’m glad I brought that tequila.”
---
“You know,” Chris said as he looked around, “when you said ‘cave’ this isn’t quite what I imagined.” And Jensen smirked, because yeah, it wasn’t what he imagined the first time either.
The entrance to where Jared lived was actually a thin (but thankfully, tall) crack almost completely hidden at the end of a much larger cave, and covered by a thick rug in lieu of a door on the other side. It was after that rug that the cave started to appear very uncave-like. The ground was covered with layers of thick, plush rugs and there was furniture--a couch and table and one--very large--wood framed bed. The ancient, wood burning stove that stood against one stone wall had a long black pipe that ran up to a natural hole at the top of the cave, which was boarded up to, Jensen had assumed, prevent rain from getting in.
But what really grabbed attention were the bookshelves. There were four of them, hand made and Jared sized--at least ten feet tall--and absolutely stuffed full of books. There were hundreds of them, hardbacks and paperbacks, creased and yellow from age and use and slightly warped from the moisture in the cave. A few of what Jensen assumed were Jared’s favorite were wrapped safely in plastic Ziploc bags, air sealed to prevent further damage. Altogether they made an impressive sight, and Jensen knew from the look on his friends’ faces, completely different from what they expected.
Then again, it had been different from what he’d expected too.
Jensen went ahead and made himself comfortable on the couch. It was big and squashy and smelled faintly of dirt and must. The scent reminded Jensen of long nights drinking beer and talking with Jared and he immediately relaxed, sinking into the cushions and enjoying Chris and Steve’s shock at their surroundings, and the awkward way they attempted to keep a distance from Jared as they tried--and failed-- not to stare at him.
Chris, as usual, dealt with being out of his depth by acting like an asshole. “What’s with the ancient heating system?” he asked, gesturing to the stove. “It’s practically falling apart.”
Jared gave one shrug of his massive shoulders. “It makes sense out here. It’s not like I can get electricity. Besides,” he added, “that was the height of technology when I got it.”
Jensen snickered quietly at the look on Chris’s face, catching Jared’s eye over his head. Jared grinned at him, wide smile bright through dark hair, and winked.
“Height of technology…” Chris mumbled, then shook his head, heading straight for the bag with the tequila.
Steve was still looking around, browsing through the items on the bookshelves, pausing when he came across the one packed with DVDs that Jensen knew Jared watched on his portable DVD player. “How do you get all this stuff?” he asked Jared. “I mean, I’m assuming you can’t just walk into a Walmart somewhere and pick them up.”
“Yeah, uh…” Jared brought one furry hand up to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck, standing awkwardly at the far end of the room. He did the same thing when Jensen first came to his home, so Jensen knew it was Jared being shy, and he had the sudden urge to laugh a little.
Bigfoot is shy. Ha.
“This guy, Jeff, lives in a cabin further up,” Jared answered Steve. “I visit him sometimes and he brings me back whatever I ask for when he goes into to town.”
Jeff.
Jensen carefully schooled his face into a blank expression. He wasn’t jealous that Jared had another friend besides him, a friend who was close enough for Jared to see him all the time, instead of waiting for a few days every two months or so. He wasn’t. Because that was stupid, and petty and he should be glad that Jared has other friends to keep him company.
Jensen thought back to the sad, lonely expression on Jared’s face the first time he met him, when he talked about being the last of his species.
I am glad, he told himself.
“Whoa, Jensen, you gotta see this,” Steve said, looking closely at the objects of one shelf. “There’s like a collection of you.”
“What?” Jensen jumped off the couch and bounded over, ignoring the panicked look on Jared’s face.
It was true. Sitting on the center shelf of DVD’s was an entire row of shows and movies Jensen has been in: Dawson’s Creek, Smallville, Dark Angel, Supernatural, hell even Devour.
Those hadn’t been there the last time Jensen had visited.
After gaping a little at the DVD case in his hand, Jensen turned to Jared, eyebrows raised in question.
Jared blushed, the skin visible through the hair on his face a bright red, and ducked his head, embarrassed. “You said you were an actor,” he explained, still not meeting Jensen’s eye, “and I wanted to see what you were in so I had Jeff pick them up.”
Jensen grinned widely at him, jealousy completely wiped away. “At least he didn’t manage to find any Days of Our Lives.”
Jared looked up then, curious.
Jensen shook his head. “No. No way. I am not letting you watch that crap.” He replaced the DVD then walked over to Jared, patting his friend consolingly on the arm. “You’ll just have to get your kicks out of my more humiliating roles by watching Dawson’s Creek and the horror flicks.”
Jared pouted but Jensen had managed to build up a resistance to that in the last six months, so just smirked at him and crashed back down on the couch.
Chris finally looked up from the bag he was digging through, bottle of tequila in one hand. “Don’t worry,” he grinned at Jared, “I got copies of it you can have. Everyone should be able to make fun of Jensen for that show. It’s a rule.”
Jared grinned back at Chris and Jensen groaned. “I hate you,” he muttered, glowering at his friend. Why did he think introducing them to Jared was a good idea again?
Chris just shrugged as he opened the bottle, grin turning sharp when he shot it Jensen’s way. “Serves you right. Just consider it a little payback for not telling us about Jared here and then ditching us for half a year.”
Jensen sighed and slumped back against the couch. “Fair enough.”
Jared looked at Jensen in curiosity. “It can’t be that bad,” he said as he sat down cross legged on the floor, leaving the couch free for Steve and Chris. Jensen was grateful for this--he was getting a crick in his neck from peering up at him. “The other stuff you were in was alright.”
“Have you ever watched a soap opera before?” Jensen asked. Jared shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Trust me on this, it can be that bad.”
Steve laughed, crashing down on the couch beside Jensen. “Whatever. Come on,” he said to Chris. “Grab the camping mugs and let’s start drinking.”
Jared eyed the bottle in Chris’s hand. “What are we drinking?”
Chris grunted. “Tequila. What else?”
Jared shrugged. “Never had it.”
A slow smile grew across Chris’s face. “Well, you‘re going to tonight,” he said, pulling another bottle out of his bag, “and it’s a good thing I brought plenty, ‘cause by the size of you, I’m willing to bet it’s going to take a hell of a lot to get you drunk.”
---
Actually, it didn’t.
Jared had barely started on his second mug-full when the first one had hit him hard. What little skin that could be seen underneath the fur on his face grew pink and flushed and he started to giggle at everything, voice loud and gestures careless and clumsy as he talked.
He was also grabby as hell.
As soon as he’d finished his second drink he’d grabbed at Jensen, pulling him to the floor beside him. Now Jared was slumped against him, one arm thrown sloppily over his shoulders, the other blocking Jensen’s sight as Jared drunkenly patted his head, every tap causing his forearm closer to Jensen’s face and nearly smothering him with his fur.
He was also purring, a low, deep rumble coming from his chest that Jensen could feel against his shoulder and arm.
“Holy shit,” Chris muttered from the couch as he watched the whole scene. “Bigfoot’s a light weight. Who’d have thought.”
“No’bigfoot,” Jared muttered against Jensen’s neck. It tickled a little and Jensen shifted away, patting Jared consolingly on the back as he did so.
“He’s right,” Steve said contemplatively. “He seems more like a wookie than Bigfoot.”
Jared slowly pulled away from Jensen to peer up at Steve. “Wassa wookie?”
“What’s a Wookie?” Chris repeated incredulously. “Man, haven’t you seen Star Wars before?” Jared shook his head and Chris looked at Jensen, an expression of dismay on his face. “Jensen, that needs to be fixed. Soon. It’s not right that he’s had to sit through god awful crap like Devour, but hasn’t seen Star Wars. It’s no wonder the guy likes your stuff, he hasn’t seen what a good movie is.”
Jensen rolled his eyes. Beside him, Jared suddenly pulled away, an offended look on his face. It’s possible that he meant to defend Jensen’s movies, but the fast movement turned out to be too much for him and he lost his balance, tipping backwards onto the ground. He landed on his back and stayed there, giggling at nothing. After a few moments the giggling faded back into the low, rumbling purr. Jensen watched him, a fond smile on his face.
His best friend really was a wookie.
That’s alright, he thought.
Han Solo was cool.
Fandom: J2 AU
Characters: Jensen, Jared, Chris and Steve
Rating: PG 13
Wordcount: 3000+
Summary: Chris and Steve get pissed that Jensen has been ditching them all the time, so Jensen decides it's about time they met Jared.
Notes: Sequel to You Know What They Say, where Jared was Bigfoot and Jensen came across him while hiking.
This has been sitting on my hard drive forever, I finally got around to finishing this little thing.
“Let me get this straight. The reason you haven’t been hanging out with me and Steve on the few breaks from filming you get is because for the last six months you’ve been secretly hiking through that national park we went to last year to hang out with your new best friend who is actually Bigfoot?”
Jensen shifted guiltily, Chris’s words doing their job to remind him why he was such a pathetic excuse for a friend, not only for seeing them less and less once his career took off, but for practically ignoring them for half a year so he could go and see Jared almost every break he got. Both Chris and Steve were fed up with it--especially Chris, who had flown all the way to Canada to confront Jensen in his Vancouver apartment, since Jensen hadn’t made it down to L.A. to see them in months--and Jensen felt guilty enough that he figured he owed them the truth. No matter how crazy it sounded.
He took a deep breath. “Uh, yes? But don’t call him Bigfoot. He gets really offended.”
There was a brief, tense silence as Chris just stared at him. Then, “How stoned are you?”
Jensen huffed. “I’m not on drugs, Chris. And I’m not crazy either. I’ll prove it to you. You, me and Steve are all going back to the park, and you guys are going to meet Jared.”
“Jared, the eight foot tall, furry, completely not mythical Bigfoot.”
“Right.” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, his expression daring Chris to argue with him.
Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Aw hell, why not? S’not like I got anything better to do.”
Jensen grinned at him. “Great. I’ll call Steve.” It was a good thing he had most of Friday and all of Monday off this week. He’d need the long weekend if he was escaping to the mountains for this little friendly meeting.
Chris dropped down onto Jensen’s couch, wearily rubbing one hand across his face, still looking like he couldn’t decide if Jensen was playing an elaborate hoax on him, or if he really was crazy. “Tell Steve to pack the tequila,” he muttered. “I think we’re going to need it.”
Jensen figured he was probably right.
---
Three days later Chris and Jensen were hiking up the foothills with a very skeptical Steve in tow. Like Chris, Steve thought Jensen was either crazy or on drugs, but unlike Chris he wasn’t willing to indulge him. It took showing Steve the picture Jensen took of him and Jared when they first met to convince him to come along, and even then it was with great reluctance. He did however, keep his unhappiness with the situation to a disapproving scowl, whereas Chris kept a running commentary about “tromping through the fucking mountains with a crazy man to see Sasquatch” and how it “better not be some goddamn prank or someone is dead.”
By the second hour off the path Jensen had had enough. He stopped and turned around to glare at Chris, observing with some pleasure that both he and Steve were lagging behind. The hiking trips over the past six months had done well to get Jensen back into shape. Chris also took note of the distance between them and used that to start another stream of curses.
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Chris, will you give it a rest already?”
Chris scowled at him. “Well how much further is this cave or whatever it is you are dragging us to?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Another hour? Shit, where the hell does this guy live?”
Jensen gave an exasperated sigh. “What did you expect? That he would live on the side of the road somewhere? A nice two story brick house with a fence and a garden? A mailbox with an address and zip code? He’s fucking Bigfoot.”
“Holy shit. Jensen--” Steve started, but Chris talked right over him.
“I know that, Jen. But why the hell is it so far? This is the middle of fucking nowhere!”
He rolled his eyes again. “That’s the whole point.”
“Jensen.”
“Yeah, but--”
“Chris!” Steve snapped. “Shut the hell up. Jensen, uh, that wouldn’t be Jared would it?” Eyes wide, he nodded at something over Jensen’s shoulder.
Jensen spun around, grinning when he caught sight of Jared leaning against a tree a hundred or so feet away. “Hey!” he called out, waving one arm in the air. His grin faded when Jared didn’t immediately wave back or start heading toward him. Usually, as soon as Jared saw Jensen he would bound forward to meet him, smiling so wide it was easily visible through all his fur. Jensen had come to expect it--Jared was always a giant ball of energy. Like a puppy, if that puppy was eight feet tall and looked like it could break Jensen by breathing on him too hard.
But Jared wasn’t bounding forward, too excited at the sight of Jensen to stay back, and as Jensen started jogging to get closer (so he was a little excited too, okay? After all, Jared was his best friend and he didn’t get to see him very often) he could see that Jared’s usual grin was missing, replaced by a tense, wary look instead.
“Hey, man,” Jensen gasped out once he was standing in front of Jared. “Didn’t expect to see me so soon, did you?”
“No, not really,” Jared says absently, still not smiling and staring pensively over Jensen’s left shoulder to where Chris and Steve were making their way towards them--at a much more sedate pace than Jensen’s. “Who’re they?”
This wasn’t like the Jared Jensen saw every time he came up here. Jared’s voice was flat and emotionless, his big, furry arms crossed in front of his chest in a defensive pose as he leaned stiffly against the tree, expression blank, distant, and Jensen floundered for a moment. Jared hadn’t been distant with Jensen since the first time they met, and Jensen didn’t know how to handle this abrupt switch.
Jared eyes suddenly zeroed in on Jensen’s, eyes dark and intense. “Reporters?” he asked dully, and few months ago Jensen might not have been able to hear the hurt underlying that short, flat tone, but Jared became very quickly one of the people he knew best in the world, and Jensen immediately felt like hurting every single person who’d used Jared for tabloid fame in the past and put that dead, disappointed look on his face.
“No, Jared. God, no,” he rushed out. “I swear, I wouldn’t do that to you. They’re just my friends, Chris and Steve. Remember the guys I was camping with the first time? That’s them.”
“Oh.” Jared eyes flickered back over Jensen’s shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion, and yeah, Jensen could get that. It’s not like he’d ever talked about bringing them here before.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and shifted a little awkwardly as he explained. “They, uh, got pissed at me for disappearing all the time when I got breaks from filming. I finally just had to tell them about you.”
Jared’s mouth twitched--a movement just barely discernable underneath all the fur. “And so you had to bring them here for them to believe you.”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda. Yeah.” Jensen looked closely at him, trying to see if this bothered Jared, but his friend just shook his head with a smile, shoulders relaxing as his arms finally dropped from the defensive position. He wanted to ask, just to make sure, maybe even assure him once more that Jensen would never sell Jared out like that, but Chris and Steve finally caught up with them, taking away the chance.
They stopped a few feet short of Jared and Jensen, clearly keeping their distance as they gaped at the tall, very hairy myth that was standing beside him. For a short, tense moment no one said anything. Then Steve stalked forward, ignoring Jared’s slight recoil, reached out for some of the hair on Jared’s arm and tugged.
“Ow!” Jared jerked away, one hand coming to rub at the spot. “What was that for?”
“Huh.” Steve turned to Jensen, eyebrows raised. “This wasn’t a joke.”
“Right. I‘ve been telling you that.”
“So I just pulled the hair of the real life, honest to god, Bigfoot.”
Jared huffed, still rubbing at his arm. “I am not Bigfoot. That is not my name.”
Steve sighed and ran a hand tiredly over his face. Jensen didn’t even try to hide his smirk.
“Fuck. I’m glad I brought that tequila.”
---
“You know,” Chris said as he looked around, “when you said ‘cave’ this isn’t quite what I imagined.” And Jensen smirked, because yeah, it wasn’t what he imagined the first time either.
The entrance to where Jared lived was actually a thin (but thankfully, tall) crack almost completely hidden at the end of a much larger cave, and covered by a thick rug in lieu of a door on the other side. It was after that rug that the cave started to appear very uncave-like. The ground was covered with layers of thick, plush rugs and there was furniture--a couch and table and one--very large--wood framed bed. The ancient, wood burning stove that stood against one stone wall had a long black pipe that ran up to a natural hole at the top of the cave, which was boarded up to, Jensen had assumed, prevent rain from getting in.
But what really grabbed attention were the bookshelves. There were four of them, hand made and Jared sized--at least ten feet tall--and absolutely stuffed full of books. There were hundreds of them, hardbacks and paperbacks, creased and yellow from age and use and slightly warped from the moisture in the cave. A few of what Jensen assumed were Jared’s favorite were wrapped safely in plastic Ziploc bags, air sealed to prevent further damage. Altogether they made an impressive sight, and Jensen knew from the look on his friends’ faces, completely different from what they expected.
Then again, it had been different from what he’d expected too.
Jensen went ahead and made himself comfortable on the couch. It was big and squashy and smelled faintly of dirt and must. The scent reminded Jensen of long nights drinking beer and talking with Jared and he immediately relaxed, sinking into the cushions and enjoying Chris and Steve’s shock at their surroundings, and the awkward way they attempted to keep a distance from Jared as they tried--and failed-- not to stare at him.
Chris, as usual, dealt with being out of his depth by acting like an asshole. “What’s with the ancient heating system?” he asked, gesturing to the stove. “It’s practically falling apart.”
Jared gave one shrug of his massive shoulders. “It makes sense out here. It’s not like I can get electricity. Besides,” he added, “that was the height of technology when I got it.”
Jensen snickered quietly at the look on Chris’s face, catching Jared’s eye over his head. Jared grinned at him, wide smile bright through dark hair, and winked.
“Height of technology…” Chris mumbled, then shook his head, heading straight for the bag with the tequila.
Steve was still looking around, browsing through the items on the bookshelves, pausing when he came across the one packed with DVDs that Jensen knew Jared watched on his portable DVD player. “How do you get all this stuff?” he asked Jared. “I mean, I’m assuming you can’t just walk into a Walmart somewhere and pick them up.”
“Yeah, uh…” Jared brought one furry hand up to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck, standing awkwardly at the far end of the room. He did the same thing when Jensen first came to his home, so Jensen knew it was Jared being shy, and he had the sudden urge to laugh a little.
Bigfoot is shy. Ha.
“This guy, Jeff, lives in a cabin further up,” Jared answered Steve. “I visit him sometimes and he brings me back whatever I ask for when he goes into to town.”
Jeff.
Jensen carefully schooled his face into a blank expression. He wasn’t jealous that Jared had another friend besides him, a friend who was close enough for Jared to see him all the time, instead of waiting for a few days every two months or so. He wasn’t. Because that was stupid, and petty and he should be glad that Jared has other friends to keep him company.
Jensen thought back to the sad, lonely expression on Jared’s face the first time he met him, when he talked about being the last of his species.
I am glad, he told himself.
“Whoa, Jensen, you gotta see this,” Steve said, looking closely at the objects of one shelf. “There’s like a collection of you.”
“What?” Jensen jumped off the couch and bounded over, ignoring the panicked look on Jared’s face.
It was true. Sitting on the center shelf of DVD’s was an entire row of shows and movies Jensen has been in: Dawson’s Creek, Smallville, Dark Angel, Supernatural, hell even Devour.
Those hadn’t been there the last time Jensen had visited.
After gaping a little at the DVD case in his hand, Jensen turned to Jared, eyebrows raised in question.
Jared blushed, the skin visible through the hair on his face a bright red, and ducked his head, embarrassed. “You said you were an actor,” he explained, still not meeting Jensen’s eye, “and I wanted to see what you were in so I had Jeff pick them up.”
Jensen grinned widely at him, jealousy completely wiped away. “At least he didn’t manage to find any Days of Our Lives.”
Jared looked up then, curious.
Jensen shook his head. “No. No way. I am not letting you watch that crap.” He replaced the DVD then walked over to Jared, patting his friend consolingly on the arm. “You’ll just have to get your kicks out of my more humiliating roles by watching Dawson’s Creek and the horror flicks.”
Jared pouted but Jensen had managed to build up a resistance to that in the last six months, so just smirked at him and crashed back down on the couch.
Chris finally looked up from the bag he was digging through, bottle of tequila in one hand. “Don’t worry,” he grinned at Jared, “I got copies of it you can have. Everyone should be able to make fun of Jensen for that show. It’s a rule.”
Jared grinned back at Chris and Jensen groaned. “I hate you,” he muttered, glowering at his friend. Why did he think introducing them to Jared was a good idea again?
Chris just shrugged as he opened the bottle, grin turning sharp when he shot it Jensen’s way. “Serves you right. Just consider it a little payback for not telling us about Jared here and then ditching us for half a year.”
Jensen sighed and slumped back against the couch. “Fair enough.”
Jared looked at Jensen in curiosity. “It can’t be that bad,” he said as he sat down cross legged on the floor, leaving the couch free for Steve and Chris. Jensen was grateful for this--he was getting a crick in his neck from peering up at him. “The other stuff you were in was alright.”
“Have you ever watched a soap opera before?” Jensen asked. Jared shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Trust me on this, it can be that bad.”
Steve laughed, crashing down on the couch beside Jensen. “Whatever. Come on,” he said to Chris. “Grab the camping mugs and let’s start drinking.”
Jared eyed the bottle in Chris’s hand. “What are we drinking?”
Chris grunted. “Tequila. What else?”
Jared shrugged. “Never had it.”
A slow smile grew across Chris’s face. “Well, you‘re going to tonight,” he said, pulling another bottle out of his bag, “and it’s a good thing I brought plenty, ‘cause by the size of you, I’m willing to bet it’s going to take a hell of a lot to get you drunk.”
---
Actually, it didn’t.
Jared had barely started on his second mug-full when the first one had hit him hard. What little skin that could be seen underneath the fur on his face grew pink and flushed and he started to giggle at everything, voice loud and gestures careless and clumsy as he talked.
He was also grabby as hell.
As soon as he’d finished his second drink he’d grabbed at Jensen, pulling him to the floor beside him. Now Jared was slumped against him, one arm thrown sloppily over his shoulders, the other blocking Jensen’s sight as Jared drunkenly patted his head, every tap causing his forearm closer to Jensen’s face and nearly smothering him with his fur.
He was also purring, a low, deep rumble coming from his chest that Jensen could feel against his shoulder and arm.
“Holy shit,” Chris muttered from the couch as he watched the whole scene. “Bigfoot’s a light weight. Who’d have thought.”
“No’bigfoot,” Jared muttered against Jensen’s neck. It tickled a little and Jensen shifted away, patting Jared consolingly on the back as he did so.
“He’s right,” Steve said contemplatively. “He seems more like a wookie than Bigfoot.”
Jared slowly pulled away from Jensen to peer up at Steve. “Wassa wookie?”
“What’s a Wookie?” Chris repeated incredulously. “Man, haven’t you seen Star Wars before?” Jared shook his head and Chris looked at Jensen, an expression of dismay on his face. “Jensen, that needs to be fixed. Soon. It’s not right that he’s had to sit through god awful crap like Devour, but hasn’t seen Star Wars. It’s no wonder the guy likes your stuff, he hasn’t seen what a good movie is.”
Jensen rolled his eyes. Beside him, Jared suddenly pulled away, an offended look on his face. It’s possible that he meant to defend Jensen’s movies, but the fast movement turned out to be too much for him and he lost his balance, tipping backwards onto the ground. He landed on his back and stayed there, giggling at nothing. After a few moments the giggling faded back into the low, rumbling purr. Jensen watched him, a fond smile on his face.
His best friend really was a wookie.
That’s alright, he thought.
Han Solo was cool.