SPN RPF Fic: A City in the Desert
FML FML FML I have three hours of sleep and I have to spend all day volunteering at an art festival. I am going to die. I am not even sure I liked this. I have finals. I hate myself. I hate everything. I'm pretty sure I even ripped myself off writing this. Someone kill me.
I'll just leave this here then.
Title: A City in the Desert
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Summary: Jared's the movie star, but Jensen's the dramatic one. He's also Jared's manager, or at least he likes to pretend he is. J2 AU Jensen/Jared, background Danneel/Genevieve.
Rating: NC 17 for language and sex
Word Count: ~8200
AN: Cheerfully ripped off of the TV show Entourage, with Danneel as the admittedly inimitable Ari Gold. Thank yous to familiardevil for listening to me whine, and cherie_morte for pushing me through this.
His cell phone goes off at six-fifteen in the morning and, on three and a half hours of sleep, Jensen’s immediate thought, borne of a lifetime spent living in west Texas, is holy shit tornado sirens.
Then he flails, falls off his bed, and remembers he’s in LA.
He finds his cell phone on the nightstand next to his bed; it’s still shrieking and buzzing even on the sixth ring. Which means it’s Danneel, the same person who threatened him with castration if she ever had to listen to his outgoing voicemail message again, and the only person who would call him at this time of day.
Jensen doesn’t even look at the caller ID.
“Someday,” he says to Danneel, “a house is going to fall on you or someone is going to dump a bucket of water on you and all of munchkinland is going to celebrate.”
“Why Jenny,” coos Danneel, “does that make you Glinda? I always knew you were a fairy.”
“Witch,” corrects Jensen automatically. “Glinda was a good witch.”
“Either way Jenny-bean, you wear a lot of pink and sparkle. And speaking of,” Danneel’s voice drops from her normal playfully acidic into a calm as false and ominous as that of a hurricane’s eye, “why does my cover of the Star feature Jared groping you all over the courtside seats at last week’s Lakers game?”
It takes a moment for Jensen to process that, and when he does finally figure it out, he snorts.
“Jesus Christ Dani, did you really wake me up at six in the morning to yell at me at some sadsack manipulation? Just have Morgan call them and threaten to sue for libel.”
“Morgan is already here,” says Danneel. “And you should be here too, if you actually care about Jared’s career and not just sucking him dry of all of his money. I will see you in thirty.”
She hangs up. Jensen sighs and sticks his tongue out at the cell.
There’s a girl asleep on one of the couches when he stumbles through the living room five minutes later. She’s dressed which is something. Jensen shakes her awake and she comes to slowly. Jensen doesn’t remember Jared coming home with a girl last night, but he doesn’t actually remember coming home himself last night. Jared’s been hitting the nightclubs pretty hard lately, bored and maybe a little desperate from a three month dryspell of no work.
And Jensen, as always, has been following him.
“Hey,” he says to the girl. “Hey, let’s get you home”
She groans a little bit and, after a little coaxing, finally gets up and agrees to follow him to the car.
The girl lives in the Valley, half an hour out of the way and he needs a cup of coffee too, so it takes Jensen an hour and fifteen to make it to Danneel’s. He doesn’t really care; Danneel did, after all, wake him up at the crack of dawn to bawl him out for what is probably a badly photoshopped manipulation of him and Jared.
The girl’s sweet. She’s a chemistry major at CSUN, which makes Jensen feel less bad somehow. He always hates meeting the girls who came in on a bus from Ohio with vague plans of stardom. She gives him her number when she gets out of the car, still wobbling from alcohol and her five inch heels, and asks him to give it to Jared. Jensen nods and smiles.
He throws the piece of paper out the window as soon as he’s back on the freeway.
***
Aldis is his normal smiling, smooth self when Jensen trudges up to Danneel’s office, but he shoots Jensen a warning look that gives him pause.
“Anything I need to know about?” he asks, fist hovering over the door.
Aldis’s permanent smile dims just slightly. “Not really,” he says. “But she’s been here since five,” which means Aldis has too, and Jensen fully intends to petition the pope to grant the poor man sainthood someday. “I think she’s still torn up over, you know.”
Jensen nods, he does know. And a distressed Danneel means a Danneel who’s stopped sleeping or eating or doing anything one might consider necessary for basic human survival. He swears the woman could survive off spite and the fear she inspires in others.
“So all I’m saying is,” cautions Aldis, “is gird your loins.”
“I always do,” says Jensen. He knocks, and the door is yanked open immediately.
“Ackles,” hisses Danneel. “That was not thirty minutes.”
“Where’s Morgan?” he says, scanning the room and not seeing Jared’s PR anywhere. If Danneel’s going to disembowel him, he at least demands there be a witness.
“Damage control,” she says grimly. She fish-eyes him. “He’d be here if you could actually tell time.”
“He wouldn’t have to have been here at all if you weren't as hysterical as my thirteen year old cousin."
Danneel sneers at him magnificently and stalks to her desk. She picks the tabloid off her desk and shoves it at him. He looks.
“I’ve been busting my ass off, trying to get your boy a goddamn script, because who the hell wants to work with someone who’s just disappeared to Texas for half a year to star in some indie ass darling?”
Jensen zones her bitching out. Danneel’s been coming up with excuses for not getting Jared any decent scripts for three months now, and Jensen’s getting tired of it.
The photo’s not a manipulation. But it’s not whatever damning evidence Danneel thinks it is, either. It looks like a hundred photographs his mom has at home, of him and Jared from elementary school all through high school. Jared’s always been an affectionate person, and Jensen’s always been receptive to that affection.
In the photo, Jared has his arm wrapped around Jensen’s shoulder, another arm extended as he points something out. Their faces are very close together, cheeks almost touching and they’re both smiling. Jensen’s smile is wide enough that he may even be laughing.
He doesn’t remember the exact moment the picture was taken. Most of the game was like that, Jared hanging off of him like every basketball, football, or cheerleading expo they’d ever been to. It’s just how they work, and it’s not Jensen’s fault Brittany hasn’t shaved her head recently and everyone’s tired of the KStew manufactured baby drama.
“So?” he says. “Jared touches people a lot. This isn’t exactly news.”
“Are you illiterate?” demands Danneel, eyes wide. “I am asking a serious fucking question here Jenny. Can you goddamn read? I know basic technology baffles you, but-”
“Yes Dani,” he snipes. “I understand what they’re implying with the giant, bold, bright yellow Jared’s secret boyfriend? And I’m saying it’s not true, and Jared not understanding personal space is nothing new.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or that the two of have you been eyefucking since you were six,” cries Danneel, throwing up her hands. “For fuck’s sake, you already live with the guy. People in the industry already talk, you want the rest of the world talking too?”
“Yeah,” argues Jensen, “but he also lives with-”
“No one,” says Danneel, cutting him off, “believes anyone is sleeping with Chad Michael Murray.”
Jensen can’t argue with that. He crosses his arms over his chest and prepares for his last stand.
“Even if he were,” he says, “I don’t see what the big deal is. You and Genevieve went out for months and no one cared.”
Danneel stares at him expressionlessly from across her desk. Jensen wilts.
“I’m going to enumerate all the ways that is a completely idiotic,” she says sweetly. She ticks up a finger, “One, my entire career and the careers of all my bloodsucking friends- aka you- isn’t dependent on my appeal to Middle America. I can march in all the gay pride parades I like. Two, you are now implying to me that there was something about our relationship to begin with. And three, and most importantly, you are not to mention her name in my office.”
Jensen shrinks back. “Fine!” he snaps. “I’ll talk to Jared about it.”
“Do that,” she says sharply. “And Jensen?”
There’s a shift in her tone that causes Jensen to pause on his way out the door to look back at her.
“You may need to have more than a conversation about respecting personal boundaries,” she says drily. “You’re two grown ass men. Don’t you think it’s strange you’re living together?”
He shrugs. It’s just, it’s Jared. Everything about his relationship with Jared is strange.
He tells her as much, and she stares at him for a long moment and then sighs.
“On your head be it then.”
It’s an ominous note to end on, but he wasn't lying when he said Danneel has all the dramatic flair of his eighth grader cousin.
Jensen refuses to let it bother him.
***
There are two kinds of people in Piper, Texas. Those who make it out, and those who do not. Those who don't end up out in the oil fields, working twelve hour shifts beneath the frowning blue bowl of the sky until their faces turn to charcoal.
The entire town had always known Jared would make it out. He was, from the first day Jensen met him, four feet of sunshine and dynamite. Later, much later, Jared had been six and a half feet of sunshine and dynamite, homecoming king and star wide receiver and the lead in almost every play Piper High’s Drama Club put on for three years. Jensen had followed him through this; been the best friend, a decent but unremarkable running back, the Horatio to Jared’s Hamlet.
Jared ended up at UT on a football scholarship, and Jensen had ended up there (and been accepted to Rice and Georgetown, but he never told Jared that) because he actually paid attention when it came to class.
Jared dropped out midway through their junior year, had already conquered the theater department by then, went back to Piper to pick up Chad to keep him company, and then headed straight to LA in his older brother's pick-up on, as legend had it, one and a half tanks of gas.
Jared dropping out had been the first big fight he and Jensen ever had, and the first time Jensen ever refused to follow Jared somewhere. The next two and a half years were two and a half years that didn’t happen, when Jensen first admitted to himself that he wasn’t straight, when his first really serious, maybe this is love relationship started and then self-destructed, when he graduated and got his first real world job pencil pushing for a corporation out in Houston.
Jared called him constantly, leaving him messages.
I got a cast in a commercial Jen. It’s my first break. Think the folks back home’ll care that I’m on TV shilling dental floss? I miss you. I’m gonna make it any day now. You should come out here. You’ll like the palm trees and the ocean.
Jensen listened to Jared’s meteoric rise via answering machine. He got a part in a TV show, it became a recurring part, half a season, he was part of an ensemble cast in a heist flick, he was playing opposite Mandy Moore in some sappy romcom, he missed Jensen, hadn’t he graduated by now? Was Houston really so much better than LA?
Houston wasn’t. Jensen finally broke and called Jared after he kicked out Alex, the guy who wasn’t Jared and who couldn’t be. He didn’t say Alex was a guy though. Jared knew more about Jensen than anyone on the planet, but that was one other thing Jared didn't know.
“Look Jen,” Jared said then, after Jensen had spent an hour explaining the whole wonderful, miserable past nine months, “it sounds like you need me right now as much I need you.”
So, Jensen went. He followed Jared to LA.
***
It’s still early by the time Jensen gets back to the house, before noon and he’s already spent two hours in the car. Got stuck in the morning rush hour, and it gave him time to think even if it wasn’t any good for his blood pressure.
He cracks open a few eggs into a bowl, begins beating them as he searches through the refrigerator for things to add. He’s in the mood for an omelette and figures he'll make one for Jared while he's at it, since Jared, no matter how late he went to bed the night before, is always up before noon. He finds half a bellpepper, a block of cheddar cheese, and some left over Hawaiian pizza he can cannibalize for the ham.
He’s humming quietly to himself, mostly successful at having put Danneel’s tirade out of his head, and halfway through the omelettes when Jared pads into the room. He’s sleep mussed and smiley, and Jensen ducks his head, pretends he’s concentrating too hard on cooking to notice Jared.
“Morning Jensen,” beams Jared. He wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist and rests his chin on Jensen’s shoulder. Jared’s typical morning greeting. It’s just the way Jared is. He touches people, and Jensen can’t bring himself to pull away. It’s not like the Star has a camera pointed through their kitchen curtains or anything like that.
Jared ends up being the one who breaks contact. He wanders over to sprawl out in one of the dining room chairs, still smiling sunnily.
“Hey,” he says, “did you see Christina around anywhere?”
“Christina?” says Jensen, vaguely remembering the name of this morning's girl. “I dropped her off this morning. I found her sleeping on the couch.”
Jared raises his eyebrows. “Is that why you’re dressed? You know it’s not really your job to drop off my dates…”
“Danneel wanted to see me,” says Jensen, grimacing at the memory. “I just offered Christina a ride home. She wasn’t out of the way.”
“Danneel have anything important to say?”
Jensen knows this is the part where he should say something, but as it turns out it’s pretty hard to say Hey, so, the tabloids think we’re gay so you need to stop touching me so much. It’s not really the kind of thing you tell a guy.
“Nope,” he says.
Jared nods. “All right,” he says, clearly believing Jensen. “But damn, I wish you hadn’t dropped Christina off. I didn’t even get her number.”
Thankfully, the omelettes are ready then, and it spares Jensen having to lie about that as well.
***
Jared takes him to dinner that night. It’s been a more and more frequent occurrence lately, even as Jared’s cash flow slowly dries up. That’s what he gets for making a movie for only 60,000 dollars. So Jensen turns it into a working dinner.
He goes over Jared’s options, lays out the (very few) scripts he’s been offered recently, and ignores the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Danneel.
He can tell he’s not keeping Jared’s attention very well. He keeps frowning at Jensen and trying to shift the topic to something else.
“Look,” snaps Jensen, the third time Jared brings up ‘escaping to Napa for a few days,’ “we need to talk about this stuff, okay? You don’t have to care about your money. That’s what you pay me for, but this is important.”
Jared snaps to attention like a schoolkid caught talking in class. He looks at Jensen guiltily and manages to keep focused through the rest of the meal. He’s got some smart things to say, he always has. Jared only comes off as all looks and muscles because people let him. But Jensen can tell Jared’s answers are still only desultory. Which means there really is something else on Jared’s mind, and now Jensen’s going to have puzzle that out.
He lets Jared’s attention wander away towards the end, once they’re both halfway through the dessert. The waitress is tiny and brunette, Jared’s type, and even though the clientele is young Hollywood, she’s clearly smitten to be serving Jared Padalecki.
“Can we get the check?” Jensen says finally, interrupting the flirting between the two of them. “Sorry,” he adds, when Jared glances at him, “but I have a meeting with Morgan first thing tomorrow.”
“And you didn’t get much sleep last night,” says Jared, with a frown, attention dropping away from the waitress immediately. “Don’t go killing yourself because of me.”
“Nah,” says Jensen, smiling. “You just need to pay me more.”
Jared laughs heartily, and the waitress shoots Jensen a glare that could kill a man unaccustomed to Danneel’s. Not like Jensen cares, he’s too full of the warm, glowing feeling that always accompanies him making Jared laugh.
“You headed out to the club?” he asks.
Jared gives him an indecipherable look. “No,” he says. “I think I’ll stay in tonight. Maybe play some Halo?”
Jensen nods, still caught in the bubble of Jared's laugh and half-forgetting that they didn't manage to decide anything. "That sounds great."
The house is empty when they get back. Chad’s actually managed to catch and keep a girl’s interest for more than a week, and who knows where he is.
Jared grabs a couple beers from the fridge while Jensen sets up the x-box. He loses layers as he drifts back into the room, until he’s standing next to Jensen in his t-shirt and boxers, holding out a cold bottle to him. It’s like being roommates in college again, only the beer’s some microbrew from up north instead of Natty Ice and the TV’s 50 inches instead of 12.
They play Halo and drink beer until past midnight, when they both just collapse. Jensen turns on the satellite, and they flip through channels until they find the night’s second run of the Colbert Report.
“This is much nicer than dinner,” says Jared sleepily, after a few minutes of watching Colbert faking rage and gesticulating wildly. He’s mostly lying down, head near Jensen’s thigh and long legs hanging over the edge of the couch. There’s plenty of space to sit in the room, but he and Jensen are separated only by a few inches. “I don’t know why we couldn’t just chill like this there.”
“I’m your manager. We needed to talk business,” says Jensen with a shrug. “You’re busy; it’s hard to get you alone for an hour or two to discuss things.
Jared props himself up on one elbow and stares hard at him.
“You’re also my best friend,” he says quietly. “Anytime you need to talk Jensen, you just have to ask. But it’s just,” he pauses, frowning at Jensen, “sometimes, like tonight, I just want to talk to you, not my manager.”
***
The meeting with Morgan goes smoothly enough. He doesn’t mention the Star cover, and he’s got a bead on getting Jared to headline a charity event in a couple weeks. There’s a reporter who’s been calling, asking to do a profile piece on him for the Rolling Stone, and they both agree it’ll be a good idea soon as Jared gets his next project lined up. There's been some buzz about the project he just wrapped up with Misha fucking Collins, but no one, not even Misha fucking Collins himself knows when that'll be done. And no publicity agents wants his client squandering his buzz too soon.
It’s on the way back that Jensen runs into trouble. He doesn’t even make it out of the lobby before a familiar voice cries “Jensen!” and he freezes in his tracks.
He turns slowly, and sure enough, Genevieve Cortese is beelining toward him, looking flawless in four inch heels and a pencil skirt.
“I thought I’d run into you here,” she says, smiling warmly and tucking her arm into the crook of the elbow. “Walk me to my car?”
***
Genevieve unsettles him. Hollywood agents in general unsettle Jensen. It’s a tough field, and to get to the top, you generally have to be willing to gut a man stone cold. It’s also a boy’s club. Which means to get to the top as a young, attractive female means you have to be willing to gut at least ten men stone cold.
But Genevieve is just so nice, even if she did break Jared’s heart.
“I didn’t break Jared’s heart,” she says, amused smile flickering around the edges of her mouth.
Jensen narrows his eyes at her. It’s entirely possible that Genevieve made it to the top of the Hollywood mountain by being a mind reader.
“Jen,” she says kindly, “you’re just very predictable and you’re very protective of your boy. It’s sweet, and I admire your loyalty. It’s a quality I look for in clients.”
It takes Jensen a moment to parse that one out.
“Did you just compliment me on my loyalty and at the same time imply I should jump ship from Dannel to you?”
“You caught that?” says Genevieve, smiling brightly. She sounds like a proud mother. “You are getting better at this.”
They're in her office. It's smaller than Danneel's, but that doesn't mean anything. Danneel is all grand gestures, but Genevieve is understated, subtle. Of all the agents Jensen knows (and he knows quite a few), she's by far the least bombastic. It's part of what makes her so unsettling.
Jensen crosses his arms across his chest. “You still broke Jared’s heart.”
“I did not,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “Jared just got confused because he liked me as a person and not just for my perky ass. I may have wounded his pride, but his heart is still intact. Besides,” she adds, pinning him with a sudden, sharp stare, “Danneel had as much a role in that as I did. And you’re still with her even though, what, Jared's last offer was for Polly Pocket: The Franchise?”
“Michael Bay wanted him for Legos,” he admits grudgingly. He adds, a little shrilly and a little defensively, “But it’s a good offer. He’s made Shia millions.”
Genevieve arches an eyebrow. “Jared already has a franchise. He doesn’t want another one. He wants to act. You know that, and I know that, but does Danneel know that? If he keeps getting offered crap like Legos, he’s going to go make another movie with that tortured artist friend of his.”
Jensen scowls at the coffee table. “Fucking Collins,” he spits out of instinct.
“My sentiments exactly,” says Genevieve smugly.
Jensen glances up at her, and then leans back, crossing his hands behind the back of his head. It’s a move that’s meant to look casual and bored.
“So do you have anything to offer him?” he asks. “Danneel’s been good for him.”
There’s too much triumph in Genevieve’s smile for Jensen’s liking.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, reaching into her purse and pulling out a thick stack of papers. A script. She drops the script on the coffee table. “Bigelow wants to make another movie.”
Jensen pauses mid-reach to the script.
“Bigelow?” he says sharply. “Kathryn Bigelow? Oscar winning director Kathryn Bigelow?”
“The one and only,” says Genevieve. She leans back, crossing her hands behind the back of her head and smirks up at him.
“This isn’t going to end up with Jared on a surfboard in a Nixon mask, is it?” he demands.
Genevieve huffs a laugh. “Read the script, Jensen,” she says gently. “Have Jared read it, and then get back to me. I don’t need you to make any promises now other than that.” She pauses. “And it’s based on the book Three Cups of Tea. It’s about mountain climbing and building schools in Afghanistan.”
Jensen loves that book.
“All right,” he says, after a long moment, picking up the script. “I’ll read it. If it’s good, I’ll let Jared read it. But,” he pauses. “What is this about? You like us, but I know sure as hell you don’t like us that much.”
Genevieve purses her lips. “I do like you,” she admits finally. “And I like Jared, and I think in a couple years, if he doesn’t squander his talent working for hacks like Bay, he could win the Oscar one day. But you’re right, this isn’t about you. This is about Danneel.”
Jensen looks at the script in his hands.
“Do you really think,” he says slowly, “stealing all of Danneel’s clients and ruining her company will make her fall back in love with you?”
“Well, um. Yes. Actually,” says Genevieve.
Jensen shrugs. “Fair enough.”
***
Jensen has been Jared’s manager officially for nine months. Unofficially, he’s been managing Jared’s life for one way or another since they were six and scrape-kneed. Jared has the ideas, the guts, the talent, and, inevitably, the glory. But Jensen’s the one who keeps him from getting himself killed, from keeping Jared out of the streets and the tabloids and talent numbing franchises based on children’s toys. It’s a partnership, and it works.
It started to fall apart last year, after he talked Jared into taking the lead in a crappy action movie over a crappy horror remake. The movie made twice as much money as everyone projected, largely on the strength of Jared’s performance. So the studios are already looking to make a sequel to hit theaters sometime in summer 2012.
So Jared bought Jensen a car, and himself a plane and then went looking for something "respectable."
He found Misha fucking Collins, and his script West by West, set out in the oil fields of Texas, and so personal and poignant, and, Jensen will admit, a fucking genius script.
(Though, in retrospect, Genevieve had been the one to give Jared the script, in a bid to woo him away from Danneel, and that had been the start of the whole Jared/Genevieve/Danneel clusterfuck love triangle that ended with Danneel and Genevieve in an explosive love-hate relationship, and had Jared rushing headlong into Misha fucking Collins' tortured genius of a movie.)
Jensen had advised against it. The movie was barely paying anything. No one was going to see it. He needed to build on his buzz at this point and not drop off the face of the earth.
So Jared said, "You're my manager, and I understand what you're saying, but I have to do this."
And Jensen said, “You’re not paying me, and you’re not listening me, and you have the nerve to say I’m your manager?”
That was their second big fight.
It climaxed with Jared and Chad and Misha fucking Collins on Jared's private plane, and Jensen on the runway. Because they may have been fighting, but he was still Jared's best friend.
He'd just stopped following.
But then, Jared turned the plane around.
He still made the movie with fucking Collins, but he officially made Jensen manager and started paying for the privilege of not listening to him first.
***
“You’re back late,” says Jared, concerned, when Jensen finally makes it home. Jared’s wet, and he smells like chlorine, which means he’s been swimming laps in their pool. His shirt clings wetly to his chest, hair still slick against his head as he pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge. Jensen looks away. “You and Morgan really have that much to talk about?”
“Genevieve kidnapped me,” he bitches.
“Oh?” says Jared.
“Yeah,” says Jensen with a grimace. “But she had a script.”
Jared slowly raises an eyebrow at him. “What kind of script?”
“The kind that’s directed by Kathryn Bigelow,” says Jensen. “I skimmed it on the way back-” he did, too, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around an iced coffee and the script balanced on his knee as he navigated through the midday rush hour “-it’s a good script. It’ll raise your profile and show your range. It sure as hell is a lot better than Legos.”
“This would mean ditching Dani though,” points out Jared. He's looking thoughtful rather than defiant though, which means some of the conversation they had at dinner stuck in his head.
Jensen shrugs. “Look, fact of the matter is, no one has any clue what West by West is going to look like. Collins hasn’t let anyone see the edits. So until then, you need to do something. And Danneel hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with new scripts lately.”
Jared nods warily all through this, as if he were agreeing with Jensen against his will.
“But Bigelow?” he says, a weak protest and he knows it.
“She directed the only decent movie last year,” points out Jensen.
“Hey,” butts in Chad, coming into the room, his arms loaded with two bags of groceries. “Avatar was-”
“Avatar was a pile of shit covered in candy,” snaps Jensen. “It was fucking Ferngully with extra bestiality.”
“You would have liked it if Jared was in it,” says Chad sulkily.
“It would have been good if Jared was in it,” says Jensen. “At least he can act.”
“Sam’s a good guy,” says Jared mildly. He scrunches his eyebrows at Jensen. He looks caught somewhere between amusement and concern.
“What?” says Jensen irritably.
“Nothing,” says Jared. “It’s just that sometimes you sound like Danneel.”
Jensen groans. “Fantastic,” he says. “Now excuse me while I go shoot myself in the face. Chad,” he says, turning to face the man. “Congrats, you’ve been promoted. You’re Jared’s manager now.”
He turns as if to stalk away, but Jared grabs him by his arm and pulls him to his side, laughing.
“And people say I’m the dramatic one,” he grins, looping his arm around Jensen’s waist, and Jensen can feel the damp spreading into his shirt. He finds he doesn't care.
“You are,” says Jensen, disarmed as he always is when he’s this close to Jared. Which is pretty often and pretty much all his life, which means he’s spent most of his waking moments in a daze. “You made a plane turn around for me.”
Jared goes very still. “Yeah,” he says, smiling slightly. “Yeah, I did.”
Chad’s glancing back and forth between the two of them, features pinched even more so than usual. Jensen and Jared continue to smile into each others' eyes.
“Holy shit!” he shouts suddenly. “The Star was right! How haven't I seen this before?”
Jensen’s eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of his head. He takes a hasty step away from Jared. Jared just looks confused.
“The Star?” he says, looking at Chad. He waves a vague hand around in Jensen’s direction, trying to pull him back towards him, but Jensen steps out of reach.
“Yeah, shit. Shit,” says Chad, going to rummage through a grocery bag. He pulls out what Jensen recognizes to be his least favorite tabloid and thrusts it triumphantly in Jared’s face.
“I saw it at the store and bought it because I thought you’d get a laugh out of it,” says Chad, mouth running a mile a minute. Jensen can only watch in horror. “But shit. Shit goddamn fuck. You guys really are fucking.”
Jared laughs then, a great, ringing laugh.
“We’re not,” says Jensen, panic stealing over him thick and nauseating, “and we wouldn’t. Just because. We won’t.”
“Chad,” says Jared, still looking at Jensen. “Could you disappear for a bit?”
Chad, the treacherous coward, disappears.
Jared's examining the cover closely, a small smile tugging at his lips. He glances up at Jensen. "Is this what Danneel wanted you to talk to you about the other day?" he asks.
"Yes," he admits, caught. "She thinks you're too...touchy. Which. I mean, she might have a point. You’re all over me in public and sooner or later, people are going to start thinking something’s there.”
Jared looks like he’s rifling through several possible starts to this conversation. Finally, he says, “Jensen, I know you’re gay.”
Jensen starts at that. It is not the tangent Jensen was expecting Jared to take. “How’d you-”
“I’m your best friend,” explains Jared disapprovingly. “You should have told me. I can kind of get why you didn’t. But, you haven’t had a serious girlfriend since high school. And it was kind of obvious you were hiding something about Alex.” He shrugs. “I just know.”
Jensen’s shoulders sag. “I just didn’t want it to be awkward,” he says miserably.
Jared is, quite suddenly, very close, warm hands aligned along Jensen’s jaw and lifting his head up. This is either a great dream or a waking nightmare.
“And I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide things from me,” says Jared softly.
Something flickers in Jared’s expression, a hardening to it that means he’s made his mind up about something.
Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but Jared kisses him. It’s gentle, tentatively exploratory. Jensen is still at first. He feels Jared begin to pull away, leaving a small disappointed sound against Jensen’s lips.
It spurs Jensen to action. He kisses Jared back, hard.
Jared reacts fast, licking into Jensen’s mouth with brutal precision and there’s the hard knock of teeth as they adjust their positions.
Jensen tangles his fingers in Jared’s hair, bites at his lips. Jared whines, a high, keening sound that starts in the throat and that Jensen feels shock through him. And then Jared’s slamming him forward, lifting him up so that he’s half-sitting on the counter. He slides a large, warm hand up Jensen’s shirt, stops to thumb at one of his nipples. Jensen hisses and slams his head back. It bangs hard against the cabinet, and he curses, slumping forward.
“Shit Jensen,” breathes Jared with a nervous laugh. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” says Jensen, and that’s all Jared needs to hear. He’s a hot mouth at Jensen’s neck, a steadying hand gripped bruising tight on his hip, the other hand flicking open the buttons of Jensen’s shirt.
“Christ, Jen,” whispers Jared into the crook of Jensen’s neck and shoulder. “If you knew what you looked like…”
He doesn’t finish the thought. He’s got Jensen’s shirt all the way unbuttoned now, and he latches his mouth onto Jensen’s collarbone and moves down. Jensen bites back on a moan and leans his head back, more carefully this time, so it rests against the cabinet. He squeezes his legs vicelike around Jared’s waist.
He’s hard already, painfully so, cock pressing tight against his jeans. He ruts against Jared’s chest, searching for friction, and Jared pulls away slightly. Jensen clings to him, hands clenched in his t-shirt.
“Let me,” says Jared, shooting him a quick, desperate smile. He gets his hand on Jensen’s zipper and pulls down. Then his hand is in Jensen’s boxers, gripping him tight and hard. His hand is large, callused in different places from Jensen’s. His strokes are firm, surprisingly even, and Jensen’s lost, he’s dissolving, fucking into Jared’s fist.
It’s been, well. It’s been a long time. And it’s Jared. Jensen comes with a stifled cry, bucking into Jared’s hand, Jared’s mouth wet and perfect against his neck.
He doesn’t ride the comedown as much as he’d like. He slides off the counter, pushing Jared away as he does so. And then he grabs Jared, whirls him around so that he’s the one pressed against the counter, and drops to his knees.
“J-jensen,” stutters Jared, looking down at him. His lips are red and wet from kissing, irises eaten to black.
“Shut up,” says Jensen, trying hard to breathe, trying hard not to think about all the nights he's thought about doing this. He presses his hand against Jared’s crotch and Jared jerks into it. Satisfied, Jensen unzips his pants and Jared helps them get them shoved halfway down his thighs.
The tip of Jared's cock is poking through the slit of his boxers, leaking precome. Jensen steadies himself with a breath; he jerks Jared’s boxers down.
Jared’s cock is hot and heavy in Jensen’s mouth. He licks along the shaft, probes the vein on the underside. It’s been awhile since he’s done it, so it’s wet and a little messy, but Jared doesn’t seem to mind. He’s scrabbling at Jensen’s hair, trying to get a grip and finding none.
Jensen pulls away and Jared moans his frustration; Jensen presses a light kiss to the tip, then he swallows as much of Jared’s dick down as he can in one smooth motion. Jared cries out, fucks shallowly into Jensen’s throat. Jensen can tell he’s taking all his self control not to fuck harder.
“J-j-en,” he cries, a shaky warning. Jensen pulls his mouth off, and gets a firm hand on the base of Jared’s cock. He gives it three hard strokes and then Jared’s coming, shuddering through it with a long and wordless moan, face going slack with pleasure and hands ceasing their frantic dance on Jensen’s head. He slumps against the counter and Jensen rests his head against Jared’s thigh. They stay like that for a long, peaceful moment.
Then Jared tugs at the collar of Jensen’s shirt, pulling him up so they’re both standing, chest pressed against chest.
“Hey, Jen, Jensen, you with me man?” asks Jared, framing Jensen’s face with his large hands and looking searchingly down at him.
Jensen feels the aftershock sweep through him, back into shaky panic and the feeling of rising bile.
He just had sex. With Jared. His best friend. On the kitchen counter.
“Jensen?” tries Jared again.
Jensen has two choices. He can kiss Jared again. Or he can flee.
It turns out, he’s as good or as bad a man as Chad is.
He flees.
***
The thing is, the thing is, this is twenty years of friendship on the line.
He has a spare change of clothes in the car, there for times when he spills coffee on himself before an important meeting. He changes into it now, and tries to calm his racing mind and heart.
He can only be so many things to Jared; at some point, he's going to fuck up in one of his jobs (manager, best friend, whatever that was), and then everything will fall apart.
Thankfully, Chris is in town.
***
He’s known Chris since college, when Chris and his band drove into Austin in a 1991 Ford Aerostar with the backseats removed to play a few gigs on the bar circuit. Jensen had been working as a bartender at one of the bars on said circuit. They’d hit it off after Jensen successfully managed to duck the bottle of Jack Daniels one of Chris’ bandmates had flung at his head, and been good friends since.
Chris is the only person in all of the sprawling concrete mass that is LA who doesn’t see Jensen as Jared’s manager, and possibly the only person in the world who doesn’t see Jensen as Jared’s best friend. So it makes sense that it’s Chris who Jensen runs to now.
Unfortunately, musical talent, a laidback personality, and the ability to consume large amounts of alcohol seem to be Chris’ only good traits. Sympathy sure as hell ain’t one of them.
“Are you done?” says Jensen exasperatedly when Chris finally finishes laughing.
“Jenny-bean,” Chris says, still amused. “In your four years at UT, how many girls did you sleep with?”
“Three,” grits out Jensen.
“And how many guys?”
Jensen glares at him.
“My point exactly,” says Chris. “So tell me, is this a gay thing, or a Jared thing?”
Jensen still doesn’t say anything.
“Jensen,” Chris sighs. “Why did Thom throw a bottle of Jack Daniels at your head?”
“Because he’s a homophobic asshole,” says Jensen promptly.
“Exactly,” says Chris, smug like he’s just won something. “That’s why we kicked him out of the band.”
“No, you kicked him out of the band because he was a horrible musician.”
“That too,” says Chris, looking reflective.
“So what do you think I should do?” Jensen says, bringing the conversation back around to the point at hand.
“Jensen," sighs Chris, actually managing to look and sound somber, "you’ve been in love with Jay since longer than I’ve known you.”
“Exactly!” cries Jensen, though he cringes at the word love. "I can't screw this up."
Chris rolls his eyes. "Stop being such a coward," he orders. “Suck it up and suck him off,” orders Chris.
Jensen groans and buries his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he says. “I hate you so much. Fuck you and fuck my life. Fuck my goddamn life.”
Chris pats him on the back.
“You smell like sex,” he says. “Now get the fuck out of here and get your man.”
***
He goes to see Danneel. It is, in all probability, a suicidal move. But, if he dies, then at least all his problems will be solved. Or moot. Or whatever.
Aldis shakes his head at Jensen as Jensen approaches. The poor guy looks exhausted, and he can only summon a glimmer of his usual smile.
“I wouldn’t,” he says, when Jensen stops at his desk. “I really wouldn’t. Genevieve’s showed up and went in there awhile ago. And-”
He’s cut off by a sudden loud bang and a wordless yell. Aldis winces, and Jensen winces with him.
“I can’t,” he says apologetically. “I have to go in.”
Aldis stares at him, mouth agape. “What,” he sputters. “Dude! What could possibly be so important to risk your life like this?”
Jensen squares his shoulders and faces the door.
“True love,” he says dramatically, and he knocks.
A moment passes in which Jensen swears he can hear some clock ticking down to his death knell, and then, finally, the door jerks open. Danneel stands there, looking flushed and annoyed. Her shirt is unbuttoned to the third button, revealing a lacy bra and enough cleavage to make Jensen fondly remember his high school and early college days of pretending to be straight. Her hair is a messy cloud around her head, and, behind her, Jensen can see Genevieve sitting on Danneel’s desk in a similar state of disarray.
“Jensen,” says Danneel, arching an eyebrow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Genevieve smirks at him from over Danneel’s shoulder and Jensen feels a cold shudder pass through him. Genevieve and Danneel are terrifying apart, they’re even worse when they’re together. Still. He’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. Or die trying.
Dear God, but he hopes he dies trying.
He shoulders past Danneel and crosses defiantly into the middle of the room. Danneel shuts the door swiftly behind her, but he still catches a glimpse of Aldis’ horrified, sympathetic expression. At least he has a witness to say he died bravely.
Danneel crosses her arms across her chest, which only succeeds in pushing her breasts out and making her look even more like every schoolboy’s dream of the naughty teacher. To her credit, she still manages to look as if she could and would kill him with her stiletto.
“Jared saw the Star cover,” he says.
“And?” says Danneel. “Look Jensen, I know you don’t quite understand how to use a phone, but even that mouthbreather Chad would have been able to figure out to leave a message with Aldis.”
“And it’s not happening,” he says bravely. "Jared doesn't care."
Danneel narrows her eyes.
“What do you mean it’s not happening?”
“I mean,” he says. And then he fails. He cannot explain what just happened between him and Jared to Danneel. He just cannot. He stands in her office, mouth hanging open, mind completely blank.
Danneel’s eyes go very, very wide.
“You fucked him!” she shrieks, all accusation and no question. Then she does something amazing. She sits down and slumps forward pressing her face into her hand. “Christ. It was only a matter of time. I always knew this day would come. You have any idea how hard it is to have a meeting with the two of you in the room at the same time? He is always goddamn staring at you.”
Jensen gapes. “What? What are you-”
Danneel waves him away, face still planted squarely in palm. “Go have your Hollywood happy ending,” she says, completely ignoring his half-articulated question. “I’m just going to-”
“You’re just going to be fine,” breaks in Genevieve with an exasperated sigh. She finally slides off the desk and goes to stand behind Danneel. She begins rubbing the back of her neck. “We’ll get Morgan on this and we’ll have a sitdown with the boys later and we’ll lay out some ground rules.”
“We?” asks Danneel, arching back like a cat into Genevieve’s touch, eyelashes fluttering.
“You and I have some things to talk about Dani,” says Genevieve. She smiles at Jensen over Danneel’s head and mouths call me.
Jensen nods and takes it as his cue to leave.
Now all he has to do is go back and face Jared.
***
Jared is waiting for him when he gets back. He's sitting on the couch, Genevieve's script open on his lap.
"You're right," he says, when Jensen steps guiltily into the room. "It is good." He looks up at Jensen, expression perfectly blank."I don't know if I'm good enough for it."
Jensen sits down next to Jared. There are days when he thinks Jared could fly if he wanted to. But he just says, quietly and firmly, with all the strength of a lifetime of devotion, "You're good enough."
"You're also biased," says Jared, but the barest hint of a smile is creeping into his expression. He puts the script down on the coffee table. "So this means we'll need to meet with Genevieve."
"She was, well, I stopped by Dani's, and the two of them were, uh. You know. So, I don't know what's going on there, but we might have to wait and see for a bit." Jensen sits in embarrassed silence for a moment as he waits for Jared to process that.
"Ah," says Jared, and the embarrassed silence becomes a regular awkward one. Then Jared says, "Wait," and twists to look at Jensen straight on. "You went to Dani's?"
Jensen blushes. "Yeah, I wanted to tell her that we. That we're. You and I, we." He still can't bring himself to say it, but the broad smile that breaks across Jared's face means his point has gotten across anyway.
"So you're- I didn't scare you off? Jesus Christ Jensen, you fucking terrified me you bastard," laughs Jared.
Jensen ducks his head, still blushing. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I guess I kinda freaked out there. I just want to know," he lifts his head to look Jared in the eye, "why?"
“Jensen,” says Jared, huge smile still plastered on his face. “You’ve been passive-aggressively cockblocking me for months now. Either I’m sleeping with you, or I’m having a string of emotionless one night stands again. And, honestly, I’d much rather sleep with you.”
“Is that,” says Jensen, after a long pause, during which he comes up with and discards a thousand possible things to say, “supposed to be romantic?”
“Well, no,” says Jared. “But buying you the car was supposed to be romantic. Turning the plane around so you’d come back to Texas with me was supposed to be romantic. Calling you up every day for two and a half years and asking you to move out here with me was supposed to be romantic. All those dinners I’ve taken you to were supposed to be romantic. This is just me being honest.”
“And fucking me on the kitchen counter?”
“Well that was an act of desperation,” admits Jared.
“We’re gonna have to talk about this,” says Jensen warningly, fighting back the giddy feeling unfurling within him. “I can’t be your manager and your best friend and your boyfriend.”
Jared huffs a laugh and reaches out to palm Jensen’s face. “You make us sound codependent when you say that.”
“That’s because we are,” deadpans Jensen. “But you know I’m being serious.”
“I know,” says Jared. “So you’re in?”
“Yeah,” says Jensen, smiling back and letting the giddy feeling win out, sweep through him.
“I’m in.”
He kisses Jared then, mouths slotting neatly together. They stay like that for a moment, Jared's hand still on Jensen's palm and Jensen's hands curling in the hem of Jared's shirt.
It's a sweet kiss, but not a chaste one.
“So when did you…” Jensen waves a hand between the two of them as he finally pulls away, “figure it out?”
“When I got on the plane and realized I cared more about you being on it than the script or Misha or being an actor or any of that, but I guess,” Jared draws his brows together, "even before that, when I first moved out here, I knew you being around would make everything better." He looks at Jensen curiously. "What about you?"
Jensen just gives him a look, and Jared smiles, chagrined. Jensen’s been in love with Jared since he was thirteen, aware of that fact since he was nineteen.
“So I’m a little slow,” Jared admits. “But I got here in the end.”
“It’s all right,” says Jensen. He slides a hand up Jared’s neck and cups the back of his head. He smiles, brilliant enough to match Jared's own. “It’s about time you followed me for a change.”
-End
AN:I'm not really sure if I like this. But, hey, at least I finished something!
Feedback is good karma. Thanks for reading.
I'll just leave this here then.
Title: A City in the Desert
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Summary: Jared's the movie star, but Jensen's the dramatic one. He's also Jared's manager, or at least he likes to pretend he is. J2 AU Jensen/Jared, background Danneel/Genevieve.
Rating: NC 17 for language and sex
Word Count: ~8200
AN: Cheerfully ripped off of the TV show Entourage, with Danneel as the admittedly inimitable Ari Gold. Thank yous to familiardevil for listening to me whine, and cherie_morte for pushing me through this.
His cell phone goes off at six-fifteen in the morning and, on three and a half hours of sleep, Jensen’s immediate thought, borne of a lifetime spent living in west Texas, is holy shit tornado sirens.
Then he flails, falls off his bed, and remembers he’s in LA.
He finds his cell phone on the nightstand next to his bed; it’s still shrieking and buzzing even on the sixth ring. Which means it’s Danneel, the same person who threatened him with castration if she ever had to listen to his outgoing voicemail message again, and the only person who would call him at this time of day.
Jensen doesn’t even look at the caller ID.
“Someday,” he says to Danneel, “a house is going to fall on you or someone is going to dump a bucket of water on you and all of munchkinland is going to celebrate.”
“Why Jenny,” coos Danneel, “does that make you Glinda? I always knew you were a fairy.”
“Witch,” corrects Jensen automatically. “Glinda was a good witch.”
“Either way Jenny-bean, you wear a lot of pink and sparkle. And speaking of,” Danneel’s voice drops from her normal playfully acidic into a calm as false and ominous as that of a hurricane’s eye, “why does my cover of the Star feature Jared groping you all over the courtside seats at last week’s Lakers game?”
It takes a moment for Jensen to process that, and when he does finally figure it out, he snorts.
“Jesus Christ Dani, did you really wake me up at six in the morning to yell at me at some sadsack manipulation? Just have Morgan call them and threaten to sue for libel.”
“Morgan is already here,” says Danneel. “And you should be here too, if you actually care about Jared’s career and not just sucking him dry of all of his money. I will see you in thirty.”
She hangs up. Jensen sighs and sticks his tongue out at the cell.
There’s a girl asleep on one of the couches when he stumbles through the living room five minutes later. She’s dressed which is something. Jensen shakes her awake and she comes to slowly. Jensen doesn’t remember Jared coming home with a girl last night, but he doesn’t actually remember coming home himself last night. Jared’s been hitting the nightclubs pretty hard lately, bored and maybe a little desperate from a three month dryspell of no work.
And Jensen, as always, has been following him.
“Hey,” he says to the girl. “Hey, let’s get you home”
She groans a little bit and, after a little coaxing, finally gets up and agrees to follow him to the car.
The girl lives in the Valley, half an hour out of the way and he needs a cup of coffee too, so it takes Jensen an hour and fifteen to make it to Danneel’s. He doesn’t really care; Danneel did, after all, wake him up at the crack of dawn to bawl him out for what is probably a badly photoshopped manipulation of him and Jared.
The girl’s sweet. She’s a chemistry major at CSUN, which makes Jensen feel less bad somehow. He always hates meeting the girls who came in on a bus from Ohio with vague plans of stardom. She gives him her number when she gets out of the car, still wobbling from alcohol and her five inch heels, and asks him to give it to Jared. Jensen nods and smiles.
He throws the piece of paper out the window as soon as he’s back on the freeway.
***
Aldis is his normal smiling, smooth self when Jensen trudges up to Danneel’s office, but he shoots Jensen a warning look that gives him pause.
“Anything I need to know about?” he asks, fist hovering over the door.
Aldis’s permanent smile dims just slightly. “Not really,” he says. “But she’s been here since five,” which means Aldis has too, and Jensen fully intends to petition the pope to grant the poor man sainthood someday. “I think she’s still torn up over, you know.”
Jensen nods, he does know. And a distressed Danneel means a Danneel who’s stopped sleeping or eating or doing anything one might consider necessary for basic human survival. He swears the woman could survive off spite and the fear she inspires in others.
“So all I’m saying is,” cautions Aldis, “is gird your loins.”
“I always do,” says Jensen. He knocks, and the door is yanked open immediately.
“Ackles,” hisses Danneel. “That was not thirty minutes.”
“Where’s Morgan?” he says, scanning the room and not seeing Jared’s PR anywhere. If Danneel’s going to disembowel him, he at least demands there be a witness.
“Damage control,” she says grimly. She fish-eyes him. “He’d be here if you could actually tell time.”
“He wouldn’t have to have been here at all if you weren't as hysterical as my thirteen year old cousin."
Danneel sneers at him magnificently and stalks to her desk. She picks the tabloid off her desk and shoves it at him. He looks.
“I’ve been busting my ass off, trying to get your boy a goddamn script, because who the hell wants to work with someone who’s just disappeared to Texas for half a year to star in some indie ass darling?”
Jensen zones her bitching out. Danneel’s been coming up with excuses for not getting Jared any decent scripts for three months now, and Jensen’s getting tired of it.
The photo’s not a manipulation. But it’s not whatever damning evidence Danneel thinks it is, either. It looks like a hundred photographs his mom has at home, of him and Jared from elementary school all through high school. Jared’s always been an affectionate person, and Jensen’s always been receptive to that affection.
In the photo, Jared has his arm wrapped around Jensen’s shoulder, another arm extended as he points something out. Their faces are very close together, cheeks almost touching and they’re both smiling. Jensen’s smile is wide enough that he may even be laughing.
He doesn’t remember the exact moment the picture was taken. Most of the game was like that, Jared hanging off of him like every basketball, football, or cheerleading expo they’d ever been to. It’s just how they work, and it’s not Jensen’s fault Brittany hasn’t shaved her head recently and everyone’s tired of the KStew manufactured baby drama.
“So?” he says. “Jared touches people a lot. This isn’t exactly news.”
“Are you illiterate?” demands Danneel, eyes wide. “I am asking a serious fucking question here Jenny. Can you goddamn read? I know basic technology baffles you, but-”
“Yes Dani,” he snipes. “I understand what they’re implying with the giant, bold, bright yellow Jared’s secret boyfriend? And I’m saying it’s not true, and Jared not understanding personal space is nothing new.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or that the two of have you been eyefucking since you were six,” cries Danneel, throwing up her hands. “For fuck’s sake, you already live with the guy. People in the industry already talk, you want the rest of the world talking too?”
“Yeah,” argues Jensen, “but he also lives with-”
“No one,” says Danneel, cutting him off, “believes anyone is sleeping with Chad Michael Murray.”
Jensen can’t argue with that. He crosses his arms over his chest and prepares for his last stand.
“Even if he were,” he says, “I don’t see what the big deal is. You and Genevieve went out for months and no one cared.”
Danneel stares at him expressionlessly from across her desk. Jensen wilts.
“I’m going to enumerate all the ways that is a completely idiotic,” she says sweetly. She ticks up a finger, “One, my entire career and the careers of all my bloodsucking friends- aka you- isn’t dependent on my appeal to Middle America. I can march in all the gay pride parades I like. Two, you are now implying to me that there was something about our relationship to begin with. And three, and most importantly, you are not to mention her name in my office.”
Jensen shrinks back. “Fine!” he snaps. “I’ll talk to Jared about it.”
“Do that,” she says sharply. “And Jensen?”
There’s a shift in her tone that causes Jensen to pause on his way out the door to look back at her.
“You may need to have more than a conversation about respecting personal boundaries,” she says drily. “You’re two grown ass men. Don’t you think it’s strange you’re living together?”
He shrugs. It’s just, it’s Jared. Everything about his relationship with Jared is strange.
He tells her as much, and she stares at him for a long moment and then sighs.
“On your head be it then.”
It’s an ominous note to end on, but he wasn't lying when he said Danneel has all the dramatic flair of his eighth grader cousin.
Jensen refuses to let it bother him.
***
There are two kinds of people in Piper, Texas. Those who make it out, and those who do not. Those who don't end up out in the oil fields, working twelve hour shifts beneath the frowning blue bowl of the sky until their faces turn to charcoal.
The entire town had always known Jared would make it out. He was, from the first day Jensen met him, four feet of sunshine and dynamite. Later, much later, Jared had been six and a half feet of sunshine and dynamite, homecoming king and star wide receiver and the lead in almost every play Piper High’s Drama Club put on for three years. Jensen had followed him through this; been the best friend, a decent but unremarkable running back, the Horatio to Jared’s Hamlet.
Jared ended up at UT on a football scholarship, and Jensen had ended up there (and been accepted to Rice and Georgetown, but he never told Jared that) because he actually paid attention when it came to class.
Jared dropped out midway through their junior year, had already conquered the theater department by then, went back to Piper to pick up Chad to keep him company, and then headed straight to LA in his older brother's pick-up on, as legend had it, one and a half tanks of gas.
Jared dropping out had been the first big fight he and Jensen ever had, and the first time Jensen ever refused to follow Jared somewhere. The next two and a half years were two and a half years that didn’t happen, when Jensen first admitted to himself that he wasn’t straight, when his first really serious, maybe this is love relationship started and then self-destructed, when he graduated and got his first real world job pencil pushing for a corporation out in Houston.
Jared called him constantly, leaving him messages.
I got a cast in a commercial Jen. It’s my first break. Think the folks back home’ll care that I’m on TV shilling dental floss? I miss you. I’m gonna make it any day now. You should come out here. You’ll like the palm trees and the ocean.
Jensen listened to Jared’s meteoric rise via answering machine. He got a part in a TV show, it became a recurring part, half a season, he was part of an ensemble cast in a heist flick, he was playing opposite Mandy Moore in some sappy romcom, he missed Jensen, hadn’t he graduated by now? Was Houston really so much better than LA?
Houston wasn’t. Jensen finally broke and called Jared after he kicked out Alex, the guy who wasn’t Jared and who couldn’t be. He didn’t say Alex was a guy though. Jared knew more about Jensen than anyone on the planet, but that was one other thing Jared didn't know.
“Look Jen,” Jared said then, after Jensen had spent an hour explaining the whole wonderful, miserable past nine months, “it sounds like you need me right now as much I need you.”
So, Jensen went. He followed Jared to LA.
***
It’s still early by the time Jensen gets back to the house, before noon and he’s already spent two hours in the car. Got stuck in the morning rush hour, and it gave him time to think even if it wasn’t any good for his blood pressure.
He cracks open a few eggs into a bowl, begins beating them as he searches through the refrigerator for things to add. He’s in the mood for an omelette and figures he'll make one for Jared while he's at it, since Jared, no matter how late he went to bed the night before, is always up before noon. He finds half a bellpepper, a block of cheddar cheese, and some left over Hawaiian pizza he can cannibalize for the ham.
He’s humming quietly to himself, mostly successful at having put Danneel’s tirade out of his head, and halfway through the omelettes when Jared pads into the room. He’s sleep mussed and smiley, and Jensen ducks his head, pretends he’s concentrating too hard on cooking to notice Jared.
“Morning Jensen,” beams Jared. He wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist and rests his chin on Jensen’s shoulder. Jared’s typical morning greeting. It’s just the way Jared is. He touches people, and Jensen can’t bring himself to pull away. It’s not like the Star has a camera pointed through their kitchen curtains or anything like that.
Jared ends up being the one who breaks contact. He wanders over to sprawl out in one of the dining room chairs, still smiling sunnily.
“Hey,” he says, “did you see Christina around anywhere?”
“Christina?” says Jensen, vaguely remembering the name of this morning's girl. “I dropped her off this morning. I found her sleeping on the couch.”
Jared raises his eyebrows. “Is that why you’re dressed? You know it’s not really your job to drop off my dates…”
“Danneel wanted to see me,” says Jensen, grimacing at the memory. “I just offered Christina a ride home. She wasn’t out of the way.”
“Danneel have anything important to say?”
Jensen knows this is the part where he should say something, but as it turns out it’s pretty hard to say Hey, so, the tabloids think we’re gay so you need to stop touching me so much. It’s not really the kind of thing you tell a guy.
“Nope,” he says.
Jared nods. “All right,” he says, clearly believing Jensen. “But damn, I wish you hadn’t dropped Christina off. I didn’t even get her number.”
Thankfully, the omelettes are ready then, and it spares Jensen having to lie about that as well.
***
Jared takes him to dinner that night. It’s been a more and more frequent occurrence lately, even as Jared’s cash flow slowly dries up. That’s what he gets for making a movie for only 60,000 dollars. So Jensen turns it into a working dinner.
He goes over Jared’s options, lays out the (very few) scripts he’s been offered recently, and ignores the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Danneel.
He can tell he’s not keeping Jared’s attention very well. He keeps frowning at Jensen and trying to shift the topic to something else.
“Look,” snaps Jensen, the third time Jared brings up ‘escaping to Napa for a few days,’ “we need to talk about this stuff, okay? You don’t have to care about your money. That’s what you pay me for, but this is important.”
Jared snaps to attention like a schoolkid caught talking in class. He looks at Jensen guiltily and manages to keep focused through the rest of the meal. He’s got some smart things to say, he always has. Jared only comes off as all looks and muscles because people let him. But Jensen can tell Jared’s answers are still only desultory. Which means there really is something else on Jared’s mind, and now Jensen’s going to have puzzle that out.
He lets Jared’s attention wander away towards the end, once they’re both halfway through the dessert. The waitress is tiny and brunette, Jared’s type, and even though the clientele is young Hollywood, she’s clearly smitten to be serving Jared Padalecki.
“Can we get the check?” Jensen says finally, interrupting the flirting between the two of them. “Sorry,” he adds, when Jared glances at him, “but I have a meeting with Morgan first thing tomorrow.”
“And you didn’t get much sleep last night,” says Jared, with a frown, attention dropping away from the waitress immediately. “Don’t go killing yourself because of me.”
“Nah,” says Jensen, smiling. “You just need to pay me more.”
Jared laughs heartily, and the waitress shoots Jensen a glare that could kill a man unaccustomed to Danneel’s. Not like Jensen cares, he’s too full of the warm, glowing feeling that always accompanies him making Jared laugh.
“You headed out to the club?” he asks.
Jared gives him an indecipherable look. “No,” he says. “I think I’ll stay in tonight. Maybe play some Halo?”
Jensen nods, still caught in the bubble of Jared's laugh and half-forgetting that they didn't manage to decide anything. "That sounds great."
The house is empty when they get back. Chad’s actually managed to catch and keep a girl’s interest for more than a week, and who knows where he is.
Jared grabs a couple beers from the fridge while Jensen sets up the x-box. He loses layers as he drifts back into the room, until he’s standing next to Jensen in his t-shirt and boxers, holding out a cold bottle to him. It’s like being roommates in college again, only the beer’s some microbrew from up north instead of Natty Ice and the TV’s 50 inches instead of 12.
They play Halo and drink beer until past midnight, when they both just collapse. Jensen turns on the satellite, and they flip through channels until they find the night’s second run of the Colbert Report.
“This is much nicer than dinner,” says Jared sleepily, after a few minutes of watching Colbert faking rage and gesticulating wildly. He’s mostly lying down, head near Jensen’s thigh and long legs hanging over the edge of the couch. There’s plenty of space to sit in the room, but he and Jensen are separated only by a few inches. “I don’t know why we couldn’t just chill like this there.”
“I’m your manager. We needed to talk business,” says Jensen with a shrug. “You’re busy; it’s hard to get you alone for an hour or two to discuss things.
Jared props himself up on one elbow and stares hard at him.
“You’re also my best friend,” he says quietly. “Anytime you need to talk Jensen, you just have to ask. But it’s just,” he pauses, frowning at Jensen, “sometimes, like tonight, I just want to talk to you, not my manager.”
***
The meeting with Morgan goes smoothly enough. He doesn’t mention the Star cover, and he’s got a bead on getting Jared to headline a charity event in a couple weeks. There’s a reporter who’s been calling, asking to do a profile piece on him for the Rolling Stone, and they both agree it’ll be a good idea soon as Jared gets his next project lined up. There's been some buzz about the project he just wrapped up with Misha fucking Collins, but no one, not even Misha fucking Collins himself knows when that'll be done. And no publicity agents wants his client squandering his buzz too soon.
It’s on the way back that Jensen runs into trouble. He doesn’t even make it out of the lobby before a familiar voice cries “Jensen!” and he freezes in his tracks.
He turns slowly, and sure enough, Genevieve Cortese is beelining toward him, looking flawless in four inch heels and a pencil skirt.
“I thought I’d run into you here,” she says, smiling warmly and tucking her arm into the crook of the elbow. “Walk me to my car?”
***
Genevieve unsettles him. Hollywood agents in general unsettle Jensen. It’s a tough field, and to get to the top, you generally have to be willing to gut a man stone cold. It’s also a boy’s club. Which means to get to the top as a young, attractive female means you have to be willing to gut at least ten men stone cold.
But Genevieve is just so nice, even if she did break Jared’s heart.
“I didn’t break Jared’s heart,” she says, amused smile flickering around the edges of her mouth.
Jensen narrows his eyes at her. It’s entirely possible that Genevieve made it to the top of the Hollywood mountain by being a mind reader.
“Jen,” she says kindly, “you’re just very predictable and you’re very protective of your boy. It’s sweet, and I admire your loyalty. It’s a quality I look for in clients.”
It takes Jensen a moment to parse that one out.
“Did you just compliment me on my loyalty and at the same time imply I should jump ship from Dannel to you?”
“You caught that?” says Genevieve, smiling brightly. She sounds like a proud mother. “You are getting better at this.”
They're in her office. It's smaller than Danneel's, but that doesn't mean anything. Danneel is all grand gestures, but Genevieve is understated, subtle. Of all the agents Jensen knows (and he knows quite a few), she's by far the least bombastic. It's part of what makes her so unsettling.
Jensen crosses his arms across his chest. “You still broke Jared’s heart.”
“I did not,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “Jared just got confused because he liked me as a person and not just for my perky ass. I may have wounded his pride, but his heart is still intact. Besides,” she adds, pinning him with a sudden, sharp stare, “Danneel had as much a role in that as I did. And you’re still with her even though, what, Jared's last offer was for Polly Pocket: The Franchise?”
“Michael Bay wanted him for Legos,” he admits grudgingly. He adds, a little shrilly and a little defensively, “But it’s a good offer. He’s made Shia millions.”
Genevieve arches an eyebrow. “Jared already has a franchise. He doesn’t want another one. He wants to act. You know that, and I know that, but does Danneel know that? If he keeps getting offered crap like Legos, he’s going to go make another movie with that tortured artist friend of his.”
Jensen scowls at the coffee table. “Fucking Collins,” he spits out of instinct.
“My sentiments exactly,” says Genevieve smugly.
Jensen glances up at her, and then leans back, crossing his hands behind the back of his head. It’s a move that’s meant to look casual and bored.
“So do you have anything to offer him?” he asks. “Danneel’s been good for him.”
There’s too much triumph in Genevieve’s smile for Jensen’s liking.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, reaching into her purse and pulling out a thick stack of papers. A script. She drops the script on the coffee table. “Bigelow wants to make another movie.”
Jensen pauses mid-reach to the script.
“Bigelow?” he says sharply. “Kathryn Bigelow? Oscar winning director Kathryn Bigelow?”
“The one and only,” says Genevieve. She leans back, crossing her hands behind the back of her head and smirks up at him.
“This isn’t going to end up with Jared on a surfboard in a Nixon mask, is it?” he demands.
Genevieve huffs a laugh. “Read the script, Jensen,” she says gently. “Have Jared read it, and then get back to me. I don’t need you to make any promises now other than that.” She pauses. “And it’s based on the book Three Cups of Tea. It’s about mountain climbing and building schools in Afghanistan.”
Jensen loves that book.
“All right,” he says, after a long moment, picking up the script. “I’ll read it. If it’s good, I’ll let Jared read it. But,” he pauses. “What is this about? You like us, but I know sure as hell you don’t like us that much.”
Genevieve purses her lips. “I do like you,” she admits finally. “And I like Jared, and I think in a couple years, if he doesn’t squander his talent working for hacks like Bay, he could win the Oscar one day. But you’re right, this isn’t about you. This is about Danneel.”
Jensen looks at the script in his hands.
“Do you really think,” he says slowly, “stealing all of Danneel’s clients and ruining her company will make her fall back in love with you?”
“Well, um. Yes. Actually,” says Genevieve.
Jensen shrugs. “Fair enough.”
***
Jensen has been Jared’s manager officially for nine months. Unofficially, he’s been managing Jared’s life for one way or another since they were six and scrape-kneed. Jared has the ideas, the guts, the talent, and, inevitably, the glory. But Jensen’s the one who keeps him from getting himself killed, from keeping Jared out of the streets and the tabloids and talent numbing franchises based on children’s toys. It’s a partnership, and it works.
It started to fall apart last year, after he talked Jared into taking the lead in a crappy action movie over a crappy horror remake. The movie made twice as much money as everyone projected, largely on the strength of Jared’s performance. So the studios are already looking to make a sequel to hit theaters sometime in summer 2012.
So Jared bought Jensen a car, and himself a plane and then went looking for something "respectable."
He found Misha fucking Collins, and his script West by West, set out in the oil fields of Texas, and so personal and poignant, and, Jensen will admit, a fucking genius script.
(Though, in retrospect, Genevieve had been the one to give Jared the script, in a bid to woo him away from Danneel, and that had been the start of the whole Jared/Genevieve/Danneel clusterfuck love triangle that ended with Danneel and Genevieve in an explosive love-hate relationship, and had Jared rushing headlong into Misha fucking Collins' tortured genius of a movie.)
Jensen had advised against it. The movie was barely paying anything. No one was going to see it. He needed to build on his buzz at this point and not drop off the face of the earth.
So Jared said, "You're my manager, and I understand what you're saying, but I have to do this."
And Jensen said, “You’re not paying me, and you’re not listening me, and you have the nerve to say I’m your manager?”
That was their second big fight.
It climaxed with Jared and Chad and Misha fucking Collins on Jared's private plane, and Jensen on the runway. Because they may have been fighting, but he was still Jared's best friend.
He'd just stopped following.
But then, Jared turned the plane around.
He still made the movie with fucking Collins, but he officially made Jensen manager and started paying for the privilege of not listening to him first.
***
“You’re back late,” says Jared, concerned, when Jensen finally makes it home. Jared’s wet, and he smells like chlorine, which means he’s been swimming laps in their pool. His shirt clings wetly to his chest, hair still slick against his head as he pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge. Jensen looks away. “You and Morgan really have that much to talk about?”
“Genevieve kidnapped me,” he bitches.
“Oh?” says Jared.
“Yeah,” says Jensen with a grimace. “But she had a script.”
Jared slowly raises an eyebrow at him. “What kind of script?”
“The kind that’s directed by Kathryn Bigelow,” says Jensen. “I skimmed it on the way back-” he did, too, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around an iced coffee and the script balanced on his knee as he navigated through the midday rush hour “-it’s a good script. It’ll raise your profile and show your range. It sure as hell is a lot better than Legos.”
“This would mean ditching Dani though,” points out Jared. He's looking thoughtful rather than defiant though, which means some of the conversation they had at dinner stuck in his head.
Jensen shrugs. “Look, fact of the matter is, no one has any clue what West by West is going to look like. Collins hasn’t let anyone see the edits. So until then, you need to do something. And Danneel hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with new scripts lately.”
Jared nods warily all through this, as if he were agreeing with Jensen against his will.
“But Bigelow?” he says, a weak protest and he knows it.
“She directed the only decent movie last year,” points out Jensen.
“Hey,” butts in Chad, coming into the room, his arms loaded with two bags of groceries. “Avatar was-”
“Avatar was a pile of shit covered in candy,” snaps Jensen. “It was fucking Ferngully with extra bestiality.”
“You would have liked it if Jared was in it,” says Chad sulkily.
“It would have been good if Jared was in it,” says Jensen. “At least he can act.”
“Sam’s a good guy,” says Jared mildly. He scrunches his eyebrows at Jensen. He looks caught somewhere between amusement and concern.
“What?” says Jensen irritably.
“Nothing,” says Jared. “It’s just that sometimes you sound like Danneel.”
Jensen groans. “Fantastic,” he says. “Now excuse me while I go shoot myself in the face. Chad,” he says, turning to face the man. “Congrats, you’ve been promoted. You’re Jared’s manager now.”
He turns as if to stalk away, but Jared grabs him by his arm and pulls him to his side, laughing.
“And people say I’m the dramatic one,” he grins, looping his arm around Jensen’s waist, and Jensen can feel the damp spreading into his shirt. He finds he doesn't care.
“You are,” says Jensen, disarmed as he always is when he’s this close to Jared. Which is pretty often and pretty much all his life, which means he’s spent most of his waking moments in a daze. “You made a plane turn around for me.”
Jared goes very still. “Yeah,” he says, smiling slightly. “Yeah, I did.”
Chad’s glancing back and forth between the two of them, features pinched even more so than usual. Jensen and Jared continue to smile into each others' eyes.
“Holy shit!” he shouts suddenly. “The Star was right! How haven't I seen this before?”
Jensen’s eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of his head. He takes a hasty step away from Jared. Jared just looks confused.
“The Star?” he says, looking at Chad. He waves a vague hand around in Jensen’s direction, trying to pull him back towards him, but Jensen steps out of reach.
“Yeah, shit. Shit,” says Chad, going to rummage through a grocery bag. He pulls out what Jensen recognizes to be his least favorite tabloid and thrusts it triumphantly in Jared’s face.
“I saw it at the store and bought it because I thought you’d get a laugh out of it,” says Chad, mouth running a mile a minute. Jensen can only watch in horror. “But shit. Shit goddamn fuck. You guys really are fucking.”
Jared laughs then, a great, ringing laugh.
“We’re not,” says Jensen, panic stealing over him thick and nauseating, “and we wouldn’t. Just because. We won’t.”
“Chad,” says Jared, still looking at Jensen. “Could you disappear for a bit?”
Chad, the treacherous coward, disappears.
Jared's examining the cover closely, a small smile tugging at his lips. He glances up at Jensen. "Is this what Danneel wanted you to talk to you about the other day?" he asks.
"Yes," he admits, caught. "She thinks you're too...touchy. Which. I mean, she might have a point. You’re all over me in public and sooner or later, people are going to start thinking something’s there.”
Jared looks like he’s rifling through several possible starts to this conversation. Finally, he says, “Jensen, I know you’re gay.”
Jensen starts at that. It is not the tangent Jensen was expecting Jared to take. “How’d you-”
“I’m your best friend,” explains Jared disapprovingly. “You should have told me. I can kind of get why you didn’t. But, you haven’t had a serious girlfriend since high school. And it was kind of obvious you were hiding something about Alex.” He shrugs. “I just know.”
Jensen’s shoulders sag. “I just didn’t want it to be awkward,” he says miserably.
Jared is, quite suddenly, very close, warm hands aligned along Jensen’s jaw and lifting his head up. This is either a great dream or a waking nightmare.
“And I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide things from me,” says Jared softly.
Something flickers in Jared’s expression, a hardening to it that means he’s made his mind up about something.
Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but Jared kisses him. It’s gentle, tentatively exploratory. Jensen is still at first. He feels Jared begin to pull away, leaving a small disappointed sound against Jensen’s lips.
It spurs Jensen to action. He kisses Jared back, hard.
Jared reacts fast, licking into Jensen’s mouth with brutal precision and there’s the hard knock of teeth as they adjust their positions.
Jensen tangles his fingers in Jared’s hair, bites at his lips. Jared whines, a high, keening sound that starts in the throat and that Jensen feels shock through him. And then Jared’s slamming him forward, lifting him up so that he’s half-sitting on the counter. He slides a large, warm hand up Jensen’s shirt, stops to thumb at one of his nipples. Jensen hisses and slams his head back. It bangs hard against the cabinet, and he curses, slumping forward.
“Shit Jensen,” breathes Jared with a nervous laugh. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” says Jensen, and that’s all Jared needs to hear. He’s a hot mouth at Jensen’s neck, a steadying hand gripped bruising tight on his hip, the other hand flicking open the buttons of Jensen’s shirt.
“Christ, Jen,” whispers Jared into the crook of Jensen’s neck and shoulder. “If you knew what you looked like…”
He doesn’t finish the thought. He’s got Jensen’s shirt all the way unbuttoned now, and he latches his mouth onto Jensen’s collarbone and moves down. Jensen bites back on a moan and leans his head back, more carefully this time, so it rests against the cabinet. He squeezes his legs vicelike around Jared’s waist.
He’s hard already, painfully so, cock pressing tight against his jeans. He ruts against Jared’s chest, searching for friction, and Jared pulls away slightly. Jensen clings to him, hands clenched in his t-shirt.
“Let me,” says Jared, shooting him a quick, desperate smile. He gets his hand on Jensen’s zipper and pulls down. Then his hand is in Jensen’s boxers, gripping him tight and hard. His hand is large, callused in different places from Jensen’s. His strokes are firm, surprisingly even, and Jensen’s lost, he’s dissolving, fucking into Jared’s fist.
It’s been, well. It’s been a long time. And it’s Jared. Jensen comes with a stifled cry, bucking into Jared’s hand, Jared’s mouth wet and perfect against his neck.
He doesn’t ride the comedown as much as he’d like. He slides off the counter, pushing Jared away as he does so. And then he grabs Jared, whirls him around so that he’s the one pressed against the counter, and drops to his knees.
“J-jensen,” stutters Jared, looking down at him. His lips are red and wet from kissing, irises eaten to black.
“Shut up,” says Jensen, trying hard to breathe, trying hard not to think about all the nights he's thought about doing this. He presses his hand against Jared’s crotch and Jared jerks into it. Satisfied, Jensen unzips his pants and Jared helps them get them shoved halfway down his thighs.
The tip of Jared's cock is poking through the slit of his boxers, leaking precome. Jensen steadies himself with a breath; he jerks Jared’s boxers down.
Jared’s cock is hot and heavy in Jensen’s mouth. He licks along the shaft, probes the vein on the underside. It’s been awhile since he’s done it, so it’s wet and a little messy, but Jared doesn’t seem to mind. He’s scrabbling at Jensen’s hair, trying to get a grip and finding none.
Jensen pulls away and Jared moans his frustration; Jensen presses a light kiss to the tip, then he swallows as much of Jared’s dick down as he can in one smooth motion. Jared cries out, fucks shallowly into Jensen’s throat. Jensen can tell he’s taking all his self control not to fuck harder.
“J-j-en,” he cries, a shaky warning. Jensen pulls his mouth off, and gets a firm hand on the base of Jared’s cock. He gives it three hard strokes and then Jared’s coming, shuddering through it with a long and wordless moan, face going slack with pleasure and hands ceasing their frantic dance on Jensen’s head. He slumps against the counter and Jensen rests his head against Jared’s thigh. They stay like that for a long, peaceful moment.
Then Jared tugs at the collar of Jensen’s shirt, pulling him up so they’re both standing, chest pressed against chest.
“Hey, Jen, Jensen, you with me man?” asks Jared, framing Jensen’s face with his large hands and looking searchingly down at him.
Jensen feels the aftershock sweep through him, back into shaky panic and the feeling of rising bile.
He just had sex. With Jared. His best friend. On the kitchen counter.
“Jensen?” tries Jared again.
Jensen has two choices. He can kiss Jared again. Or he can flee.
It turns out, he’s as good or as bad a man as Chad is.
He flees.
***
The thing is, the thing is, this is twenty years of friendship on the line.
He has a spare change of clothes in the car, there for times when he spills coffee on himself before an important meeting. He changes into it now, and tries to calm his racing mind and heart.
He can only be so many things to Jared; at some point, he's going to fuck up in one of his jobs (manager, best friend, whatever that was), and then everything will fall apart.
Thankfully, Chris is in town.
***
He’s known Chris since college, when Chris and his band drove into Austin in a 1991 Ford Aerostar with the backseats removed to play a few gigs on the bar circuit. Jensen had been working as a bartender at one of the bars on said circuit. They’d hit it off after Jensen successfully managed to duck the bottle of Jack Daniels one of Chris’ bandmates had flung at his head, and been good friends since.
Chris is the only person in all of the sprawling concrete mass that is LA who doesn’t see Jensen as Jared’s manager, and possibly the only person in the world who doesn’t see Jensen as Jared’s best friend. So it makes sense that it’s Chris who Jensen runs to now.
Unfortunately, musical talent, a laidback personality, and the ability to consume large amounts of alcohol seem to be Chris’ only good traits. Sympathy sure as hell ain’t one of them.
“Are you done?” says Jensen exasperatedly when Chris finally finishes laughing.
“Jenny-bean,” Chris says, still amused. “In your four years at UT, how many girls did you sleep with?”
“Three,” grits out Jensen.
“And how many guys?”
Jensen glares at him.
“My point exactly,” says Chris. “So tell me, is this a gay thing, or a Jared thing?”
Jensen still doesn’t say anything.
“Jensen,” Chris sighs. “Why did Thom throw a bottle of Jack Daniels at your head?”
“Because he’s a homophobic asshole,” says Jensen promptly.
“Exactly,” says Chris, smug like he’s just won something. “That’s why we kicked him out of the band.”
“No, you kicked him out of the band because he was a horrible musician.”
“That too,” says Chris, looking reflective.
“So what do you think I should do?” Jensen says, bringing the conversation back around to the point at hand.
“Jensen," sighs Chris, actually managing to look and sound somber, "you’ve been in love with Jay since longer than I’ve known you.”
“Exactly!” cries Jensen, though he cringes at the word love. "I can't screw this up."
Chris rolls his eyes. "Stop being such a coward," he orders. “Suck it up and suck him off,” orders Chris.
Jensen groans and buries his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he says. “I hate you so much. Fuck you and fuck my life. Fuck my goddamn life.”
Chris pats him on the back.
“You smell like sex,” he says. “Now get the fuck out of here and get your man.”
***
He goes to see Danneel. It is, in all probability, a suicidal move. But, if he dies, then at least all his problems will be solved. Or moot. Or whatever.
Aldis shakes his head at Jensen as Jensen approaches. The poor guy looks exhausted, and he can only summon a glimmer of his usual smile.
“I wouldn’t,” he says, when Jensen stops at his desk. “I really wouldn’t. Genevieve’s showed up and went in there awhile ago. And-”
He’s cut off by a sudden loud bang and a wordless yell. Aldis winces, and Jensen winces with him.
“I can’t,” he says apologetically. “I have to go in.”
Aldis stares at him, mouth agape. “What,” he sputters. “Dude! What could possibly be so important to risk your life like this?”
Jensen squares his shoulders and faces the door.
“True love,” he says dramatically, and he knocks.
A moment passes in which Jensen swears he can hear some clock ticking down to his death knell, and then, finally, the door jerks open. Danneel stands there, looking flushed and annoyed. Her shirt is unbuttoned to the third button, revealing a lacy bra and enough cleavage to make Jensen fondly remember his high school and early college days of pretending to be straight. Her hair is a messy cloud around her head, and, behind her, Jensen can see Genevieve sitting on Danneel’s desk in a similar state of disarray.
“Jensen,” says Danneel, arching an eyebrow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Genevieve smirks at him from over Danneel’s shoulder and Jensen feels a cold shudder pass through him. Genevieve and Danneel are terrifying apart, they’re even worse when they’re together. Still. He’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. Or die trying.
Dear God, but he hopes he dies trying.
He shoulders past Danneel and crosses defiantly into the middle of the room. Danneel shuts the door swiftly behind her, but he still catches a glimpse of Aldis’ horrified, sympathetic expression. At least he has a witness to say he died bravely.
Danneel crosses her arms across her chest, which only succeeds in pushing her breasts out and making her look even more like every schoolboy’s dream of the naughty teacher. To her credit, she still manages to look as if she could and would kill him with her stiletto.
“Jared saw the Star cover,” he says.
“And?” says Danneel. “Look Jensen, I know you don’t quite understand how to use a phone, but even that mouthbreather Chad would have been able to figure out to leave a message with Aldis.”
“And it’s not happening,” he says bravely. "Jared doesn't care."
Danneel narrows her eyes.
“What do you mean it’s not happening?”
“I mean,” he says. And then he fails. He cannot explain what just happened between him and Jared to Danneel. He just cannot. He stands in her office, mouth hanging open, mind completely blank.
Danneel’s eyes go very, very wide.
“You fucked him!” she shrieks, all accusation and no question. Then she does something amazing. She sits down and slumps forward pressing her face into her hand. “Christ. It was only a matter of time. I always knew this day would come. You have any idea how hard it is to have a meeting with the two of you in the room at the same time? He is always goddamn staring at you.”
Jensen gapes. “What? What are you-”
Danneel waves him away, face still planted squarely in palm. “Go have your Hollywood happy ending,” she says, completely ignoring his half-articulated question. “I’m just going to-”
“You’re just going to be fine,” breaks in Genevieve with an exasperated sigh. She finally slides off the desk and goes to stand behind Danneel. She begins rubbing the back of her neck. “We’ll get Morgan on this and we’ll have a sitdown with the boys later and we’ll lay out some ground rules.”
“We?” asks Danneel, arching back like a cat into Genevieve’s touch, eyelashes fluttering.
“You and I have some things to talk about Dani,” says Genevieve. She smiles at Jensen over Danneel’s head and mouths call me.
Jensen nods and takes it as his cue to leave.
Now all he has to do is go back and face Jared.
***
Jared is waiting for him when he gets back. He's sitting on the couch, Genevieve's script open on his lap.
"You're right," he says, when Jensen steps guiltily into the room. "It is good." He looks up at Jensen, expression perfectly blank."I don't know if I'm good enough for it."
Jensen sits down next to Jared. There are days when he thinks Jared could fly if he wanted to. But he just says, quietly and firmly, with all the strength of a lifetime of devotion, "You're good enough."
"You're also biased," says Jared, but the barest hint of a smile is creeping into his expression. He puts the script down on the coffee table. "So this means we'll need to meet with Genevieve."
"She was, well, I stopped by Dani's, and the two of them were, uh. You know. So, I don't know what's going on there, but we might have to wait and see for a bit." Jensen sits in embarrassed silence for a moment as he waits for Jared to process that.
"Ah," says Jared, and the embarrassed silence becomes a regular awkward one. Then Jared says, "Wait," and twists to look at Jensen straight on. "You went to Dani's?"
Jensen blushes. "Yeah, I wanted to tell her that we. That we're. You and I, we." He still can't bring himself to say it, but the broad smile that breaks across Jared's face means his point has gotten across anyway.
"So you're- I didn't scare you off? Jesus Christ Jensen, you fucking terrified me you bastard," laughs Jared.
Jensen ducks his head, still blushing. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I guess I kinda freaked out there. I just want to know," he lifts his head to look Jared in the eye, "why?"
“Jensen,” says Jared, huge smile still plastered on his face. “You’ve been passive-aggressively cockblocking me for months now. Either I’m sleeping with you, or I’m having a string of emotionless one night stands again. And, honestly, I’d much rather sleep with you.”
“Is that,” says Jensen, after a long pause, during which he comes up with and discards a thousand possible things to say, “supposed to be romantic?”
“Well, no,” says Jared. “But buying you the car was supposed to be romantic. Turning the plane around so you’d come back to Texas with me was supposed to be romantic. Calling you up every day for two and a half years and asking you to move out here with me was supposed to be romantic. All those dinners I’ve taken you to were supposed to be romantic. This is just me being honest.”
“And fucking me on the kitchen counter?”
“Well that was an act of desperation,” admits Jared.
“We’re gonna have to talk about this,” says Jensen warningly, fighting back the giddy feeling unfurling within him. “I can’t be your manager and your best friend and your boyfriend.”
Jared huffs a laugh and reaches out to palm Jensen’s face. “You make us sound codependent when you say that.”
“That’s because we are,” deadpans Jensen. “But you know I’m being serious.”
“I know,” says Jared. “So you’re in?”
“Yeah,” says Jensen, smiling back and letting the giddy feeling win out, sweep through him.
“I’m in.”
He kisses Jared then, mouths slotting neatly together. They stay like that for a moment, Jared's hand still on Jensen's palm and Jensen's hands curling in the hem of Jared's shirt.
It's a sweet kiss, but not a chaste one.
“So when did you…” Jensen waves a hand between the two of them as he finally pulls away, “figure it out?”
“When I got on the plane and realized I cared more about you being on it than the script or Misha or being an actor or any of that, but I guess,” Jared draws his brows together, "even before that, when I first moved out here, I knew you being around would make everything better." He looks at Jensen curiously. "What about you?"
Jensen just gives him a look, and Jared smiles, chagrined. Jensen’s been in love with Jared since he was thirteen, aware of that fact since he was nineteen.
“So I’m a little slow,” Jared admits. “But I got here in the end.”
“It’s all right,” says Jensen. He slides a hand up Jared’s neck and cups the back of his head. He smiles, brilliant enough to match Jared's own. “It’s about time you followed me for a change.”
-End
AN:I'm not really sure if I like this. But, hey, at least I finished something!
Feedback is good karma. Thanks for reading.