Say You're Mine (J2, NC-17) 4/7

[belyste]

Two weeks later, he’s totally revised his opinion.  Forget listening to a feeling - Jensen’s pretty sure that when he figured out he wanted to kiss Jared, he should have either just done it (grabbed him, laid one on him and dealt with the consequences) or ran the fuck away (again, grabbing Jared and screwing the consequences).  The whole Michael thing should never have been allowed to go any further than a little flirting.  Well, Jensen’s okay with it ending up on craigslist as one of those missed connections, because Michael is the lame type of romantic who would do that.  But it should have died there, not snowballed to become the bane of Jensen’s existence.

Stupid Michael.

“What?” Mike asks, turning around.  “Are you muttering about me?”

“I’m plotting your downfall,” Jensen tells him.  Which is kind of true.  Mike has promised him a night of drinking and insanity to rival a KISS concert, and given the fact that he’s actually carrying a wig around in his bag, Jensen thinks an escape plan is definitely in his best interests.

“So naïve,” Mike says, shaking his head.  “I have resources you can only dream of.”

Jensen snorts.  “Like what?  The uncanny ability to get women to make bad choices?  As far as evil powers go, it’s not that great.”

“Bad choices?” Mike asks.  Trust  him to be offended by that and not the evil part.

“Well, you’re not exactly the most considerate guy.”

“That’s so not true!  Ask any girl I’ve ever - “

“I’m not just talking about sex.”

Mike blinks.  “What else is there?”

Jensen sighs.  “You just proved my point.”

Mike mulls that over for a second, but then he shrugs.  “Whatever.  Anyway, this night isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“You’re the one with the costume,” Jensen points out.  “I think it’s at least partly about you.”

“Right, whatever,” Mike says, looking a little shifty.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Jensen asks.  “Seriously, are we going to walk across the whole city?  Couldn’t you find some women to hit on a little closer to home?”

“Quit your whining,” Mike says.  “We’re almost there.  And you’re underestimating how hard it is to meet women when you get as much action as I do.”

Jensen rolls his eyes.  “Wow, your life must be so hard.  You do know that you don’t have to try to get every woman in this city to sleep with you, right?  It is actually possible to meet an attractive woman and not have sex with her.”

From the look Mike gives him, you’d think Jensen just suggested a worldwide ban on fun.  “And waste my God-given talent?  That’s like saying Einstein should have just stuck to multiplication tables because his genius was slightly inconvenient.”

There’s a serious flaw in that logic, especially around the part where Mike compares himself to Einstein, of all people, but before Jensen can get into it, they’re stopping at a dingy little pub and Mike’s pushing him inside.

“See?” Mike says, before Jensen can even take in the dim interior.  “Plenty of attractive strangers here. You get us drinks while I map out the territory.”

“What, you’re not even going to try with the bartender?”  That’s usually Mike’s first strikeout of the night.  It sort of gets him warmed up for the rest.

But Mike just shrugs.  “Later.  The night’s young and all that.”  He leaves Jensen at the bar and heads for a table.

Jensen shrugs and orders two beers.  The bartender turns out to be a married middle-aged man, so it might be a good thing that Mike didn’t blow his most outrageous line right off the bat.  He’s about to tell Mike that, when he finds him at a table across the room, but then he notices that Mike’s not alone.  He’s with two women.  And while they’re attractive, they’re definitely not strangers.  “Allie?  Adrianne?”
“Hey, Jensen,” Allie says, motioning for him to have a seat at their table.  When he drops into a chair, confused, Mike pulls the last chair around to sit next to the girls.  And that’s when Jensen realizes that a) Mike dragged him halfway across the city to meet up with friends that live nearby him, b) said friends keep exchanging meaningful looks, and c) something is definitely up.

“What is this?” he asks suspiciously.

“This, Jensen,” Adrianne announces, “is your intervention.”

Jensen looks down at his beer, which is still totally full, and blinks.  “Um, shouldn’t you have - “

“No, not like that,” Adrianne interrupts.  “We don’t care about your drinking.”

“Um, thanks?” Jensen tries.

“No, we’re just not worried about your drinking,” Allie corrects.

“Okay,” Jensen says.  “Great.  Me either.  Can I ask what you are worried about?”

Allie and Adrianne exchange a long look, like they’re trying to figure out the best way to break it to him.  “Jensen, you’ve been a little…tense lately,” Allie says delicately.  “On edge.”

“I’m a little stressed, okay?” Jensen says.  “I can’t always be sunshine and Disney songs.”

“We know,” Adrianne reassures him.  “And honestly, you being cheerful all the time would be a little scary.  But this seems like more than just stress.  You’re been kind of, well.  Grouchy.”

Jensen can feel himself getting defensive.  “So what?   A person can’t have a bad day anymore without getting cornered and interrogated?  What’s next, are you going to force-feed me Prozac?”  He picks up his glass, tilting it into the light.  “Should I be looking for crushed-up pills?”

“While you’re at it, let me know if you find your sanity, would you?” Mike asks, rolling his eyes.  “I miss it.”

“You’re the one who’s carrying around a giant wig,” Jensen shoots back.  Wait, unless the wig was -

“Boys,” Adrianne says sharply.  “If you’re done proving our point for us…?”

“What?” Jensen asks sullenly.

She sighs.  “Jensen, you’ve been so cranky over the past two weeks that we can barely talk to you without getting our heads bitten off.  It’s time to tell us what the hell’s bothering you so much so we can stop ducking and covering every time you open your mouth.”

“So this is why you dragged me down here?” Jensen asks Mike, as it finally sinks in.  “To ambush me with a conversation about my feelings?”

“C’mon, bitch,” Mike says, spreading his arms.  “Share and care.”

Jensen sighs.  “I should’ve known that you weren’t actually going to hit on a girl while dressed like Cher.  It was too good to be true.”

Mike shrugs.  “Not that I wouldn’t try it, but no.  I’m not quite that desperate yet.”

“I was really looking forward to it, too.”

“Mike can dress in drag later,” Adrianne says.  “Right now, we’ve got an intervention to do.  And I think we covered the denial part pretty thoroughly, so let’s get right to the confessional, all right?  Spill, Jensen.”

Jensen sighs again, pushing his beer around in circles on the damp table.  “What good will that do?”

“For one thing, we can try to help,” Allie says gently.

“And for another, we can actually go back to O’Toole’s again,” Mike puts in.  “Seriously, dude, making our favorite waitress cry at our favorite bar that also happens to be the closest available source of alcohol?  That’s just cruel.”

“I did not make Katie cry.”

“There was definite eye welling,” Mike argues.  “That’s just as bad.”

“Total bullshit.  And so is you blaming me for not being able to go to O’Toole’s.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mike says shiftily.

“I didn’t make you sleep with Katie,” Jensen tells him.

“You upset her!  She was vulnerable!  And she kept bringing free shots.  You know that women and kamikazes are like my kryptonite!”

“So pat her on the back!  Give her a hug!  You didn’t have to take her home.”

“I didn’t know she was going to make a thing out of it,” Mike mutters.  “There was a hot, willing woman right there, and none of the rest of you were going to man up and get it done.”  He waves a hand at Allie and Adrianne.  “Or woman up, whatever.  Point being, it was a golden opportunity too good to go to waste.”

“Yes, thank god you were there to step up and make it awkward for all of us,” Adrianne says, rolling her eyes.  “And while Mike’s inability to keep it in his pants is a wonderful topic for an intervention, we’re actually supposed to be focusing on Jensen’s bad habits at the moment.”

“Wait a minute,” Jensen says.  “Where’s Jared?  I mean, isn’t that how this intervention thing goes?  All my friends gang up on me somewhere I can’t make a scene?”

“It’s not a hostage situation,” Allie says dryly.  “And Jared had parent-teacher conferences he couldn’t miss.  But he wanted to be here - he’s really worried about you.”

“Right,” Jensen says with a snort.  “So worried that he went and permanently attached himself to another guy at the mouth.  I’m sure he’s really broken up.  You know, when he gets around to remembering that people other than Saint Michael exist.”

“Whoa,” Allie says, eyes wide.  “Wait a minute.  I thought you introduced the two of them.”

Jensen takes a healthy gulp of beer.  “They introduced themselves without any help from me.”

“So, I’m going go to go out on a limb here and guess the crankiness has something to do with Jared,” Adrianne ventures.  “And judging by the overwhelmingly bitter tone, I’m also going to guess that there’s some jealousy involved.”

“Which is strange,” Allie continues.  “Because you aren’t actually interested in Jared.  So why would you care that he’s dating Michael?”

“Wasn’t,” Jensen mutters.

“Wasn’t what?”

“Interested in Jared.  I wasn’t,” Jensen repeats.  “You know.  Before.”

He can see exactly when Allie gets it.  “Oh, Jensen,” she says sadly, slouching down in her chair.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know.  We were at the hockey game and he was being all boyfriend-ish and flirting and touching and looking at me and I just…it was nice,” Jensen mumbles.  “I liked it.”

“Wow,” Mike says, after a long pause.  “Good job, man.”  At Jensen’s look, he shrugs.  “You managed to go on real, actual dates with Jared without wanting him, but when the guy takes you on one fake date, you’re totally sold.  That’s fucked up, man.”  He raises his glass.  “Congrats.  You’ve out-issued me.”

“Mike, you don’t have issues,” Adrianne says dismissively.

“Sure I do.  They’re just deeply hidden.”

Allie rolls her eyes.  “You just want an intervention of your own.”

Mike perks up.  “Can mine have strippers?”

“It’s not a bachelor party, dumbass,” Adrianne says.  “And given your actual, painfully obvious issues?  That would totally miss the point of intervening.”

“Fine,” Mike says.  “Whatever.  Can we be done with this intervention, then?  I’m not dressing up like a 70s pop icon, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still try out the wig.”

“We’re not done yet.  Now that we’ve figured out the problem, we have to help Jensen fix it.”

“No, no,” Jensen says, waving a hand.  “It’s really fine.”

“Fine?” Adrianne asks skeptically.  “Tell that to the barista you bitched out last week.  The kid still twitches when he sees me come in.”

“Okay, so I was kind of harsh.”

“You traumatized him.  And then there are the three coffee mugs that went to the great unknown last week alone.”

“I can’t help it if Jared talking babytalk to Michael makes me want to throw things,” Jensen says reasonably.

“You could at least try to throw things that belong to you.  At your apartment.”

“Yours is more fun.”

Adrianne glares, and Jensen raises his hands.  “Fine, whatever.  I owe some apologies.  Seriously, though, it’s fine.  No fixing needed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jensen says.  “Okay, so it kind of sucks that Jared found a new boyfriend right when I figured out I wanted to date him, and it kind of sucks that said boyfriend is one of my coworkers and they’ve apparently decided that they can’t spend more than two minutes apart in any given day, so they’re always around being disgustingly mushy and happy.  But I’m fine.”  A little jealous, yes, but fine.  “There’s nothing you can do, anyway.  And this thing - the whole suddenly-wanting-to-date-Jared thing?”  Jensen waves a hand.  “It’ll probably wear off pretty soon anyway.  It’s just a stupid thing.  It’s cool.  I’m okay.  I’ll try to drink less caffeine and avoid taking my frustration out on people or cups.”  He shrugs.  “No problem.”

And he’s kind of feeling like yeah, it really isn’t a problem.  If he just concentrates on things that are not Jared (and not his stupid attractive boyfriend and how goddamn smitten they act around each other, and not how that makes something pull and ache in his chest) then he’ll be over it in no time.  Totally.

Mike is nodding, and Adrianne looks a little relieved, but Allie looks at him like someone just kicked the most adorable fuzzy little kitten in the whole world and says, “Oh, Jensen.”

“What?” he asks.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” Allie asks quietly.

Jensen has no idea what she’s talking about.  None at all.  “I don’t know what you mean.  I just told you what it is - it’s fine.”

“I recognize that look,” Allie says, ignoring his rambling.  She smiles, but it’s more sad than happy.  “I’ve seen it a million times before.  I’m used to seeing it on Jared’s face, though.”

Mike looks back and forth between them.  “Wait, you mean - “  He groans.  “No, not you too.”

“What?” Adrianne demands.

“Jensen’s in love with Jared,” Allie announces, totally matter-of-fact.  “Hopelessly, head-over-heels in love.”

And that is just so not true that it’s ridiculous.  Jensen opens his mouth to say just that, but when he’s got Allie giving him those big, sad eyes and Mike shaking his head and Adrianne looking at him with dawning pity, nothing comes out.

“Oh, Jensen,” Adrianne says.

And Jensen can deny it until he’s blue in the face, but he just doesn’t have the energy anymore.  “Yeah,” he says heavily.  “Just my luck, right?  It only takes Jared falling head over heels in love with someone else to clue me in.”

He must sound bad, because Allie’s up and around the table in a second, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  “It’s going to be okay,” she says, leaning her head against his.  “We’ll figure this out.”

“Nothing to figure out,” Jensen points out.  “Just have to get through it.”

“But we’ll help,” Adrianne promises, reaching across the table to take Jensen’s hand.  “When it gets to be too much, we’ll distract you.”

“And we’ll talk trash about this dude all the time,” Mike puts in.  “It’s not even that hard.  The guy’s already trying to steal my name, so he’s clearly a douche.”  He doesn’t join in on the hugging or hand-holding, but he does push his half-finished beer across the table toward Jensen.  Coming from Mike, that’s practically a declaration of love.

And it sucks that Jensen can’t have Jared, now that he knows exactly how much he wants that, when it’s driven home every time he grins at Michael with that stupid lovesick expression, but he’s pretty damn lucky to have Allie, Adrianne and Mike.  “Thanks,” he says quietly.  “Really.”

“Psh, don’t even,” Allie says.  “You’re our friend.  Of course we’re going to do whatever we can.”

Jensen still doesn’t know quite how he ended up with friends as awesome as this - generally, walking into someone’s life and then dashing their friend’s dreams of happily ever after doesn’t make for lasting bonds - but yeah, no matter how it happened, he’s damn lucky to have them.

*

If Allie had to make a list of the reasons she’s going to marry Adrianne (and she kind of does, since they’re writing their own vows) none of them would have to do with physical things.  Which is not to say that Adrianne’s not hot (because she is, undeniably - even Jared agrees on that) or that their sex life isn’t awesome (again, Jared can attest to this).  It’s just that the reasons Allie said yes when Adrianne proposed aren’t based on anything tangible.  She said yes because she loves Adrianne with all her heart, not because she’d get to wear a pretty dress or eat a fancy cake.  Those things pale in comparison with a lifetime with the most awesome person she’s ever known.

But while Allie’s real motivations for marrying Adrianne are things like the way Adrianne makes her laugh and the way they never run out of things to say, she can’t deny that there are some aspects of a wedding that are kind of really fun.  Like registering.

Because, outside of Christmas or maybe a birthday, when else do you have the opportunity to make a giant-ass list of stuff and ask people to buy it for you?  It’s basically an excuse to be as deliciously materialistic as they want, with no repercussions.  They don’t have to spend any of the money, after all.  They can put a bright green vacuum so technologically advanced it’s practically a sentient being on their list, and someone might actually give it to them.  It’s like magic.

“It’s consumerism, actually,” Adrianne says, prying the price scanner gun out of her hands.  “And you’re a little too into it, babe.”

“But it’s fun,” Allie protests, grabbing for the scanner.  “This store is full of shiny things and we can put every single one of them on our list if we want to.”  She sighs happily.  “It’s like I can hear them calling out to me.  Pick me!  No, me!”

“Okay, you’re no longer allowed out of my sight,” Adrianne says.  “And I’m keeping the scanner gun.  Things are only going on the list if we both agree on them.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You’ll thank me when we’re writing the thank-you notes.”  Adrianne turns around, finding the rest of their friends waiting near the entrance of
the department store.  “Here, Jensen, you can have this scanner thing.”

“Sweet,” Jensen says, grabbing the gun and squinting down the top like he’s 007.

Adrianne sighs.  “Jensen, do not make me repeat the this-is-not-laser-tag lecture I already gave Mike.”

Jensen rolls his eyes.  “Okay, mom.  I promise not to shoot at anything with brainwaves.”

“Really?” Allie asks, skeptical.

“Of course,” Jensen says innocently.  “I’ll only zap things if they’re completely and totally inanimate.  Or, you know, life-sized Ken dolls with air for brains.”  He aims the gun across the room, where Michael and Jared just happen to be standing in front of a display of dishes, and mimes taking a shot at Michael’s back.

“Jensen.”

“What?  It’s not like it’s going to hurt him,” Jensen says.  “Just blind him a little.  Temporarily.”

“No attacking Jared’s boyfriend,” Adrianne says firmly.  “You so much as point that thing at him, and I’ll show you the meaning of pain.”  She glares.  “Don’t think I won’t call your mother.”

Jensen scowls, but lowers the gun to his side.  “All right, all right.  I’m not going to zap him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be all nicey-nicey with a guy who can’t keep his tongue out of Jared’s mouth for two seconds.”

He stalks off, and Allie has to give him that one - Michael and Jared have apparently already given up on conversation and are making out against the display table.

Adrianne sighs.  “I suppose I’d better go pull them off each other before they break something and make us buy it.”

Allie thinks the real danger is that they’ll break Jensen, because while he seems to be handling Jared and Michael’s relationship with all the grace of a toddler seconds away from the screaming-and-kicking tantrum, it’s pretty easy to see that there’s real hurt there, underneath the petty jealousy.

“Yeah, no kidding,” says a voice to Allie’s left, and damn it, she really needs to stop thinking aloud.  But it’s only Genevieve, Adrianne’s cousin and the fourth member of their wedding party, who came down for the day to help.

“Seriously,” she says, folding her arms.  “Do all your friends have complicated romantic pasts?”

“Well, not with each other,” Allie says, because at least Mike’s sordid one-night-stands are usually with people they don’t know.  Or at least don’t hang out with.  Usually.  But then she realizes she’s actually making Mike sound like the normal one here, which is disturbing.

Thankfully, Mike picks that moment to jump out from behind a display of crock pots and execute a dive roll right in front of them, coming up with his gun pointed in what’s clearly some kind of attempt at a laser-tag-esque stealth attack.  Genevieve, who has no idea who this crazy guy is, promptly freaks out and hits him with the first saucepan lid she can reach.

And as Mike’s laying on the floor shrieking like a little girl and Genevieve’s yelling that he deserves it for being such a creepy stalker, and everyone else in the near vicinity is staring at the spectacle.

Allie looks around at all the gleaming kitchenware and back at her friends, who seem to be missing the entire point of a store full of shiny new things, and sighs.  It’s going to be a long day.

*

She’s right.  Allie never would have thought it, but it turns out that trying to pick out things you want but wouldn’t actually buy yourself is completely and totally exhausting.  For one thing, she and Adrianne don’t always agree on what they want .  Allie had no idea their tastes in coffee mugs were so radically different - given that until now they’ve always had a collection of whatever random, colorful, chipped-but-still-hold-caffeine hand-me-downs they could get their hands on, it never really came up.  So a fifteen minute discussion on handles and bowl depth, while interesting in a sort of scientific way, is not really what Allie had imagined for this glorious shopping adventure.

And then there’s Jared and Michael, who are being disgustingly lovey-dovey all over the place.  Allie generally has nothing against lovey-dovey behavior (it’d be kind of hypocritical of her, given the ridiculously sappy stuff Adrianne inspires on a regular basis), but at this particular juncture, it’s getting on her nerves.  If anyone’s going to be working the starry eyes and sneaking kisses stuff on this shopping trip, it should be the couple that’s actually getting married.  Unfortunately, since Allie’s already tired and pissed off, the odds aren’t good.

Besides, Adrianne’s still kind of cranky about the as-yet-unresolved Blender Debate of Aught Nine, and Allie has a feeling there won’t be any lovey-doviness until she caves on the giant mixer they do not have the counter space (or culinary talent) for.

And then there’s Jensen, who keeps up a running commentary on the overly happy couple, keeping his distance just enough to supply his own dialogue.  “Oh my god,” he says, falsetto, watching Jared and Michael stop by a set of tea kettles.  “It’s the perfect teapot to go with our stupidly perfect life.  We can put it in our stupidly perfect house and supply our perfect little children with hot, wholesome drinks.”

“You’re right, sweetness,” he goes on, switching to a slightly gruffer voice for Michael.  “And look, it comes in silver!  Our blindingly white smiles will reflect so brightly that we won’t need to turn any lights on!”

“And we can stare lovingly at our reflections as we sip our tea.  I love you, buttercup.”

“I love you more, pumpkin.”

“No, I love you more.”

“No, I - “

“Okay, I’m going to cram that teapot over your head if you do that anymore,” Mike growls, shoving Jensen aside to zap a row panini grills.

Allie doesn’t anticipate a great need for panini grills in her and Adrianne’s married life, since they tend more toward the type of sandwiches that require peanut butter and jelly or cheese and a frying pan, but she doesn’t say anything.  Mike’s eye is steadily darkening from pink to red where Genevieve hit him, heading straight for a shiner, and unfortunately, it’s not only his physical body that’s bruised - earlier, despite a rocky start (or maybe because of the head injury, who knows) he decided to hit on Genevieve anyway, and the result was a pretty big kick straight to his pride.

It’s his own fault for being such a sleaze - when Genevieve asked him for the time, he flipped his wrist and told her, then mentioned, ever-so-casually, that his watch also informed him she wasn’t wearing any underwear.  When Genevieve blinked and said, “What?  Of course I am,” Mike smirked and said, “Sorry, it must be ten minutes fast.”

At first, Genevieve looked slightly confused, like she couldn’t believe she was hearing Mike right.  Then her face cleared, and Allie was pretty sure she was about to give Mike his second shiner of the day.  But instead of yelling or hitting, she burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she said.  “You totally had me going - I thought you were serious.  You’re hilarious.”  She patted Mike on the shoulder before picking up her scanner and list and walking off, shaking her head and smiling.

Jensen nearly fell over laughing.  He had to prop himself up against a shelf to avoid rolling around the store floor.

It was the first time Jensen was even remotely cheerful all day, so Allie squashed any bit of pity for Mike (he deserved whatever he got with that line, really) and joined in the laughing.

Mike had scowled.  “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.  That line’s worked for me a dozen times before.”

“In that case, my watch says you’re probably due for an STD,” Jensen told him.  “Actually, wait.  I think my watch is several years slow.”

“Ha, ha,” Mike said dryly.  “You’re hilarious.”

“Not like you, apparently,” Jensen shot back, and after Mike growled and dove at him, that’s when the epic laser-tag battle throughout the store really began.

But now, no one has the energy left to do more than lean up against furniture and make weary sarcastic comments.  Well, everyone except Jared and Michael, because they apparently found the special reserves necessary to attach themselves at the mouth.  That, or they’re somehow sharing energy between them.  Allie doesn’t really want to look closely enough to figure it out.

Besides, Jensen’s keeping a close enough watch for all of them.  He says it’s because they’re so revoltingly lovey-dovey that it’s snark or puke, but Allie can see the hurt underneath his flip comments.

In some ways it’s only fair, given the time Jared spent pining over Jensen - karmic retribution, or whatever - but that doesn’t make it easy to watch.  A pining Jensen isn’t any easier than a pining Jared was, and it’s not like she can be mad at either of them.  It’s no one’s fault, just bad timing.

And since everyone is tired and shopped out and Jared is coming dangerously close to rounding third base right in the store, Allie decides that enough consumerist misery is enough.  Making a list of material objects with no consideration for how much they cost or how impractical they are might have seemed like a dream come true, but now that they’ve done it, all she really wants is to go home and curl up with Adrianne.

Thankfully, Adrianne seems to agree.  After they return all the scanners and head out, she says, “Screw wedding plans for a while.  We’re spending the night with bad TV and takeout,” and Allie grins, leaning into her, reminded for the millionth time just why she’s marrying this girl - and exactly how little it has to do with any list of household items.

“Sounds perfect.”

*

Jensen is lucky to have Mike, Allie, Adrianne and even Jared as friends (when Jared’s not stomping all over his heart with some other stupid guy, anyway),  but he’s also lucky to have Chris and Steve as friends.   He kind of maybe forgets that sometimes, but hey, when your two best friends take off for months on a glorified cross-country road trip and your love life takes a sudden bizarre twist (that’s more like a u-turn, come to think of it) and you have four other friends with enough drama to keep Broadway in business, that whole out of sight out of mind thing just happens.  It’s a survival instinct, or something.

Anyway, Jensen is forcibly reminded of his friendship with Chris and Steve when his phone rings one afternoon while he’s distracted by a story he’s working on.  He answers without checking the screen first, so when someone says, “Hey, asshole,” he says, “What?  Who is this?” before it sinks in.

“Wow,” Chris says.  “I was going to ask if you forgot that Steve and I exist, but it was supposed to be a joke.”

Jensen sighs.  “Sorry, man, I’m just kind of out of it.  I didn’t forget you.”

“You sure about that?”

“I think that would actually be impossible,” Jensen tells him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jensen says.  “I mean, there are at least a dozen traumatizing moments from the past five years that I haven’t managed to erase from my brain no matter how hard I tried, so why would I suddenly be able to suppress that shit now?”

Chris just laughs.  “Are you saying we’ve emotionally scarred you?  I’m touched.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

“Well, all right,” Chris says.  “So you didn’t forget us.  Did you replace us with new, better friends?”

Jensen rolls his eyes.  “No.”  He’s made new friends, yes, but he’s not going to compare.

“Really?” Chris asks.  “You didn’t even manage to make any hot new friends while we were gone?  I’m disappointed in you, Jensen.”

“I’m starting to change my mind about my new friends being better.”

“Okay, okay,” Chris says hastily.  “Hey, you didn’t happen to move while we were gone, did you?”

“No,” Jensen says.  “Why?  Going to send me a postcard from East Nowhere?”

“No, dumbass,” Chris says.  Jensen can hear him say something to someone else then, but it’s muffled and he can’t make out the words.  “Hey, are you at home right now?” Chris asks a second later.

“Yeah,” Jensen says.  “And again, why?”

“Because we need you to buzz us in,” Chris says.  “Duh.  And come down and help us carry up our stuff, you jerk.”

“What the - “  But Chris has already hung up.

Jensen moves over to the window, and sure enough, there they are.  Steve’s van is illegally parked in front of Jensen’s building, and Steve himself is handing Chris what looks like a guitar case.  He sees Jensen and waves.

Jensen yanks the window up and finishes his sentence.  “The hell?”

Chris shrugs.  “We had a last minute show come up in the city.”

“And we gave up our apartment when we left, so we need somewhere to stay for the weekend,” Steve calls.  “It’s cool, right?”

“It’s Friday afternoon,” Jensen yells back.  “You couldn’t give me a slight heads-up?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Chris demands.  “And two hours totally counts as a heads-up.  That’s plenty of time to cancel your plans.”

“Wait, what?  You didn’t tell me you were coming two hours ago.”

“Not that, idiot,” Chris calls.  “I mean for the show tonight.  You’ve got two whole hours to clear your schedule and get pretty before you need to help us set up.”

There are times when Jensen wishes he really didn’t know Chris so well (like after Chris has a little too much Jack and confesses to having a sex dream about Martha Stewart), and this, despite being refreshingly free of domestic guru TV personalities, is one of them.  If Jensen didn’t know Chris so well, he could at least entertain the notion that Chris is kidding.  As it is, his only choices are really banging his head on the windowsill, throwing something at Chris, or figuring out how he’s going to rearrange his plans.  And since head injuries are only likely to make a weekend with Chris and Steve more dangerous, Jensen has to settle for slamming the window and the door as he heads down to help them get their stuff up to his apartment.

Okay, so maybe not quite so lucky.

*

So that’s how Jensen ends up spending his Friday night in a crowded, dingy bar, drinking and listening to Chris and Steve play and hating his life.

Not because he’s at the bar or drinking or listening to Chris and Steve - those parts are pretty good, actually, even if Jensen gets the distinct impression that most of the bar’s patrons didn’t show up specifically for the show.  Even if they just ended up there because they’re regulars, they’re still a sizable audience and they’re happy enough to sit and listen as they drink.

No, the part about hating his life starts right about when Jared walks in.  Or, rather, when he steps aside, because that’s when Jensen sees that Michael’s right there behind him.  That’s also when Jensen knows it’s going to be an awesome night.  You know, if awesome can be used to mean ‘less fun than slow, painful torture.’

And the thing is, Jensen knows he’s overreacting.  If Jared had brought any other guy he was currently seeing, it wouldn’t be a big deal at all.  But this isn’t any other guy - it’s Michael.  If It was any other guy, it’d be one of Jared’s improbable fall-in-love-quick schemes, some guy that scored the perfect 100 on a computer-generated love test or saved a herd of cats from leafy doom or something.  Most importantly, they’d be gone within a week.

Because the thing about Jared, Jensen’s come to realize, is that he may have ridiculously high standards, but he balances that out with an insane (and, at times, obtuse) ability to see the best of people.  When he first meets someone, he’s always gushing about how they’re the best/smartest/hottest whatever.  It’s only after the brand-new shine wears off that he realizes that they’re not perfect.

Sometimes (like in Jensen’s case) it takes a while.  And then, sometimes (like in Michael’s case) it doesn’t ever seem to be coming.  So far the Michael thing has survived the infatuation incubation period and grown straight into a relationship, all without Jared ever ceasing to think Michael is anything less than awesome.

The worst part - the really terrifying, horrible part that Jensen can barely admit to himself - is that Jared doesn’t seem to be wrong.  After two months of Michael tagging along with their group, Jensen has yet to see Michael ever be anything other than - well, perfect.

Which is why he hates Michael, of course - because the guy’s practically a fucking saint.  Who wouldn’t hate someone so ridiculously perfect?  No one can be that nice all the time without being some kind of secret sociopath, and Jensen really has better things to do with his Friday nights than sitting around waiting obsessively for one slip-up.  At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And because Jensen’s night just wasn’t miserable enough to begin with, Mike gets bored half an hour into the set and starts playing one of his games to get women to sleep with him.  And it’s bad enough that Mike does this enough to conduct an informal research study on which fake career gets him laid the most, but when he forgets all his Wikipedia research and tells one girl he’s a “whale-ologist” and it’s clearly the inevitable point of the night where Mike is either going to get his ass kicked or earn himself a lawsuit, Jared doesn’t even turn to Jensen for a quick paper-rock-scissors like usual.  Instead, he just sighs and gets up and takes on babysitting duty on his own, the selfless bastard.

And that, of course, leaves Jensen alone with Michael.

And since he knows Michael from work, pre-Jared fiasco, Jensen can’t act like a total ass and ignore him.  He has to at least make some lame conversation in between songs.

Thankfully, Michael’s a pretty chatty, oblivious guy, so Jensen mostly just has to nod and smile along with his random observations about bar patrons or beer or the weather or Michael’s favorite subject, how awesome Jared is.  It’s not fun, but it’s easy enough to do.

But then, when Chris and Steve take a short break and Jared’s busy dragging Mike away from a knot of murderous-looking women, Michael changes it up, leaning across the table to say, “Hey, can I ask you for some advice?”

“Advice?”

“Yeah,” Michael says.  “You know, where I tell you my problem and you tell me I’m an idiot and how to fix it?”  He grins.  “Or even just that I’m an idiot, but since you’re Jared’s friend and all, I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me.”

He wants advice about Jared?  Funny how there’s really no conversation Jensen wants to have less.  “Uh, I don’t know if - “

“Nothing big,” Michael interrupts, steamrolling right over Jensen’s protests.  “It’s just coming up on our ten-week anniversary, and I wanted to do a little something special.”

Jensen isn’t sure whether to be annoyed at Jared and Michael celebrating their anniversaries by weeks (seriously, how sickeningly sweet) or worried that it’s going to be a question about sex.  Not that Jensen would be able to answer it, since the only sex he’s had with Jared has taken place in his imagination or his morning showers (or both), but still.

“Candlelight dinner?” he hazards.  “Flowers?  Chocolates?  A walk on the beach?”

Michael gives him an odd look.  “In March?”

So spitting out romance novel clichés wasn’t the best strategy.  “Okay, then.  The rest of it.”

“I’m not sure about the flowers, but Jared does love chocolate,” Michael admits.  “And if it came after a candlelit dinner, that could be fun.  Very fun.”  He smiles to himself.

Jensen tightens his grip around his glass.  “Glad to have helped.”  He thinks it comes out sounding relatively truthful, even though he means the complete opposite.

“Actually,” Michael says, coming out of his reverie, “I already had a dinner plan.  I wanted to get him something small to go along with it.  A CD or a book or something.  I’m just not sure what exactly he’d like.”

“I’m sure he’ll like whatever you get him,” Jensen says dismissively.  “It’s the thought that counts.”

“No, I want to get him something he likes,” Michael stresses.  “Something he wants.  And he always says you’re the only one who gets his taste in movies or whatever.”

“Really?” Jensen asks, before he can stop himself.  “I mean, that’s - he does?”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael says, waving a hand.  “He said you’re the only person he knows who fully appreciates old movies.  I tried - I watched one of them with him once - but it was pretty much torture.  I finally understood what the phrase ‘bored to tears’ really means.”  He laughs.  “Don’t tell him that, though, okay?  I swore up and down it was amazing.”

It’s a sort of unfortunate fact that the more Jensen drinks, the less he can keep his opinion to himself.  Considering that he’s already downed four beers, it’s not that surprising that his response is, “Wow.  How…dishonest of you.”

But Michael just laughs.  “I know,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.  “Horrible, right?  But he was so adorably geeky about the whole thing that I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“And lies are part of every healthy relationship.”

Michael laughs again.  “Well, little ones, anyway.  So, since you actually like these movies, could you recommend something?  Is there a specific one he wants?”

There is, actually - an old horror film that was just remastered and released on DVD.  Jared would love it.  But Jared would also love Michael for getting him such a perfect gift, and Jensen’s not sure he’s a big enough person to let that happen.  In fact, he’s 99% sure he’s way too petty.

“I don’t know,” he says.  “I’d have to think about it.”

“Okay,” Michael says.  “Well, let me know if you come up with anything.”  He shakes his head.  “Sometimes I can’t believe how different the two of us are.  Isn’t it funny that we get along so well?”

“Hilarious,” Jensen mutters.

“I mean, night owl, early bird, old movies, new movies, dogs, cats - we disagree on all kinds of stuff.  I guess it’s true that opposites attract.”

Jensen nods and forces a smile, taking a big gulp of beer to cover the way it’s really more of a grimace.  But then he realizes exactly what Michael said.  “Wait, you don’t like dogs?”

Michael makes a face.  “Not really.  Well, the little ones are okay.  Big ones, though? Not my thing.  I’d take a cat any day.”

By this point Jensen’s just staring at the guy, and Michael laughs, this time a little nervously.  “Don’t tell him that, either, okay?”
Jensen won’t, but it’s mostly because he wouldn’t even know where to start.  Everyone who’s met Jared knows how much he loves his dogs, and how important they are to him.  Jensen can’t even fathom Jared with someone who doesn’t like dogs.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Thanks, Jensen,” Michael says with a big grin.  “And thanks for thinking about a gift for Jared.  I’m really glad we’re finally getting the chance to hang out, you know?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jensen replies.

“Yeah, totally,” Michael enthuses.  “I mean, I knew you from work, but we never really got to know each other.  I think it’s really awesome that me dating Jared has led to us being friends.”

Friends?  Pretty much the only way Jensen would use that word to describe his feelings for Michael would be if they suddenly landed in an alternate universe.  Where it was opposite day.  But Michael’s smiling happily at him, and there’s really no polite way to say actually, I hate your guts, and I’m better for Jared than you’ll ever be.

Because, whether Jensen can fathom it or not, Jared’s with Michael.  Jensen’s forcibly reminded of that fact when Jared returns from wrangling Mike and greets Michael with a happy kiss.  And no matter how head over heels Jensen is for Jared, he didn’t do such a good job of being good for Jared when he actually had him.

So he just smiles at Michael and echoes, “Yeah, totally.”

Michael beams at him, and Jared, who’s resting his arm along with back of Michael’s chair as the next set starts, catches it and gives Jensen a happy grin.

Jensen finishes his beer in one gulp and decides it’s official: he hates his life.

*

The night gets even more fun later, when Chris and Steve are finally finishing up.  Jensen’s gone through two more beers by that point, which apparently makes him masochistic enough to watch Jared and Michael go through the tipsy version of their usual lovefest as they listen to the music.  The only difference is that it seems to involve less coordination and more groping (which is really saying something).  But just when Jensen’s getting a little nauseated watching the two of them play with each other’s hands, Jared catches Michael’s eye and gives him a lazy smile, slow and ridiculously sweet, and while Jensen’s stomach turns at the sight of that - Jared, completely unguarded - directed at someone else, it quickly turns into an ache.

Because Michael makes Jared happy.  Jensen has no idea how he does it, especially if he’s only pretending to like the things Jared does to make him happy, but Jensen doesn’t remember Jared ever smiling at him like that.  Jensen loves dogs and old movies and has a million things in common with Jared, but all he ended up doing was hurting Jared.

Which is why, when Jared and Michael get up to leave the table, Jensen waits a second, kicks the table leg hard enough to bruise his toes, then calls, “Michael, wait!”

When he turns back, Jensen pulls him aside and grabs a bar napkin and a pen, scribbling down the name of the movie for Jared.  He hands it over with a shrug.

“Thanks, Jensen, this is awesome,” Michael says, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket.  “Seriously, thank you so much.  If you picked it out, I know Jared’s going to love it.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says, arranging his face into something like a smile.  “Sure.”

Michael just grins at him and heads back to the door, where Jared’s waiting for him.  Jensen sits back down at the table and tries to convince himself it would be a bad idea to bang his head on the table.

“It’s just going to make the headache worse,” Steve advises, sliding another beer in front of Jensen.  “So’s this, but you look like you need it.”

Jensen looks up at him.  “Is it that obvious?”

“To someone who knows you?  Yeah.”

“Great.”

“So how long has this been going on?” Steve asks, taking a seat next to Jensen.  “Last I heard, you were barely agreeing to date this guy.  Now you’re pathetically head over heels for him?”

“He dated him, dumped him, then decided Jared was his one true love,” Mike says, staggering over to the table.  He’s got lipstick on his neck, a lazy smirk on his face, and his shirt is untucked.  Jensen recognizes the signs of a well-bathroom-fucked Mike.

Steve frowns.  “And you were trying not to marry him before all that.  I think you’ve got this whole love thing out of order, Jen.”

“That’s what I said,” Mike says, waving his arms around over-emphatically.  “They still haven’t got to the sex part.  That should always come first.”  He pauses, then snorts.  “Come first, get it?”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but Steve laughs.  “I like this guy.”

“You would,” Jensen mutters.  “Can we talk about something else now?”

“Like my amazing conquest of Brittany the marine biologist?” Mike asks.  “Because that, my friends, was epic.  She knew everything I was saying about whales was complete bullshit, and I got laid anyway.”

“Wait, that girl in the red dress?” Steve asks.  “Because she hit on me before the first set, and she told me she was a talent scout.”

Mike blinks.  “What?  No, she was a marine biologist.  She loves dolphins!  And, like.  Shrimp.”

Steve shakes his head.  “She, my friend, was feeding you a line.  And you fell for it.”

“Hook, line and sinker,” Jensen puts in, because a) Mike deserves it after his stupid pun, and b) he shouldn’t be the only person feeling like crap tonight.

Mike gapes.  Steve pats him on the shoulder.  “Looks like you got played at your own game, buddy.”

“Well, at least I still got laid,” Mike says, although he sounds considerably less happy about it.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Jensen asks again.

“Like how awesome the show was?” Chris asks, dropping down at their table.  “Oh, wait, we can’t.  You missed the whole thing because you were moping like a sad, pathetic wet blanket.”

“I was not, you asshole.”

“You totally were.  If you were any more of a Debbie Downer, there would actually be a little black cloud following you around.”

“I wish,” Jensen says morosely.  “Then maybe I’d get struck by lightning and put out of my misery.”

“You realize you just proved my point, right?” Chris asks.

But before Jensen can respond, Mike rouses from his drunken haze long enough to say, “Hey, no.  You can’t leave me alone with Jared and Loverboy.  Then I’m wingman-less.”

It takes Jensen a long second to figure out what Mike’s trying to say, and even when he gets it, it still doesn’t make any sense.  “I’ve never been your wingman.”

“You were tonight!”

It really can’t be a good thing that even Jensen, who is also sort of drunk, can’t follow Mike’s drunken logic.  If anyone can understand alcohol-influenced thinking, it should be other people under the influence of alcohol.  Isn’t that some kind of law?  “Mike, buddy, I barely saw you the whole night,” Jensen reminds him.  “I was all the way across the room when you got lucky.”

“Exactly,” Mike says, throwing up his hands.  “You’re, like, the most amazing wingman I’ve ever had.  You’re fucking telekinetic or something.  How did you do that?”

“I didn’t!”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Mike says, wagging a finger.  “But you’re my number one draft pick from now on.”

“You just said I’m the only one left!”

“I need a nap,” Mike says, and drops his head onto his hands on top of the table.

Jensen was just about to give up trying to have a conversation with him (or whack him upside the head till he saw reason) so it’s good timing.

Chris, who’s been watching the entire exchange with interest, just laughs and pats Mike on the back.  “Have I mentioned that I love this crazy dude?  Because I really do.”

“Of course you do,” Jensen mutters.

“Aw, Jen, are you jealous?” Chris asks.  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I still love you, too.  There’s room in my heart for both of you fine, handsome men.”

“Happy to hear that,” Jensen replies dryly.  Mike just snores.

“You’re really not,” Steve observes.  “Happy, I mean.  You’re more like completely and totally miserable.”

“I’m in love with a guy who fell in love with someone else after I dumped him for being too in love with me,” Jensen points out.  “What do you expect?”

“Have you tried telling Jared any of this?” Chris asks.  “You know.  Just out of curiosity.”

“Can’t,” Jensen replies.  “He’s disgustingly happy with Michael.”

“He might be even more disgustingly happy with you.”

“Except I’m still not even sure serious relationships are a good idea,” Jensen says.  “And I really don’t think drunk confessions about how much I hate his stupid perfect boyfriend are the way to his heart.”

“Maybe you need to tell him about your musical talents,” Chris says with a grin.

“What, that I can play the guitar?” Jensen asks.  “I don’t think that’ll be the one thing that wins him over.”

“Not that,” Chris says.  “Your other musical abilities.”

“My other - oh, hell, no,” Jensen says sharply.  “You did not just say that.  We agreed never to talk about that!  As in, never talking about it.  Ever.”

“Did we?” Chris asks innocently.  “Do you remember that, Steve?”

“Yes, we did,” Jensen grits.  “We definitely did, because I told you that if you ever breathed a word about it, I’d disembowel you with a rusty fork.”

Steve tilts his head.  “Huh.  Not ringing any bells.”

Chris shrugs.  “Well, then.  Guess Jensen won’t mind if we tell Jared about a certain fateful song, will he?”

Jensen’s eyes narrow.  “You wouldn’t.”

Chris grins.  “Wouldn’t I?”

Steve shrugs.  “Guess you’d better tell him how you feel about him, then.  ‘Cause if you don’t, he’ll be getting a link to a music video.  One that features a certain someone doing a certain fabulous dance.”

“It’s - you can’t - that’s blackmail!” Jensen sputters.

“It’s for your own good,” Chris says solemnly, patting him on the back.

“It’s mean and sadistic,” Jensen says weakly.  “And a bunch of other things I’m too drunk to think of right now.  As a matter of fact, I’m too drunk for this entire conversation.”

“That, my friend,” Chris says, “is where you’re wrong.”

“You’re not drunk enough,” Mike agrees, voice muffled through his arms.

“Wait, what?” Steve demands.  “I thought you were asleep.”

“He is,” Jensen says, when no reply comes from Mike’s prone form.  “He sleep-talks sometimes.  Well, and he says that phrase a lot anyway.”

“Awesome,” Chris says.  “The more I get to know him, the more I like him.  Now, how’s about we get some shots in before this place closes on us?”

Jensen knows he should say no, but amid his panic over the blackmailing and his already inebriated state and his complete inability to imagine how this night could actually get any worse, he gives in.  After all, what does he have left to lose?  It’s certainly not his dignity or his self-respect, because those disappeared a long time ago.

“That’s the spirit,” Chris says, sliding a shot glass in front of him.  “Cheers!”

“I really hate my life,” Jensen mutters.

*

Part Five