Out on the Edge Part One

[epicallytired]

March 9th 2015.

Jensen Ackles, star of the Dead Center movie trilogy as well as the family blockbuster, Field Trip, confirmed rumors today of his homosexuality. His publicist issued a press release that stated. “Jensen Ackles has been in a long term relationship with his Supernatural Co-Star Jared Padalecki for quite some time. He has chosen go public with this information at this time in conjunction with filming starting on Mr. Padalecki’s first feature film, and his desire to be able to publicly support his partner and be at his side during the premiere.”

Supernatural, now off the air for almost four years, did air for six and is still in syndication on TNT and syfy networks. It is not clear yet how this announcement will affect Jensen Ackles’s career. He is quoted as saying “I’m willing to work small indie films, or not at all. I’ve been very lucky thus far in my choices and their commercial success, but it’s not as important to me now as the rest of my life, which is in large part, Jared.”

Fans speculate that they may be adopting children, or being blackmailed, but Jared's camp dismisses both options, stating that they would simply like to go to events together and be recognized as a couple.

Jared's new venture, a film based on the novel, Then There Was Nothing, is his directorial debut, and is slated to star Topher Grace and Annie Wersching as the parents of the disenfranchised youth who changes the way people interact in his small town.

Neither camps had any more to say on the length of the couple’s relationship, and only time will tell how it affects the DVD sales of Supernatural which still rate as one of the top ten boxed sets in both American and International sales.



I’m staring at the article kinda stunned. There’s a list of media who want a piece of me, which isn’t new. The movies have gone well, better than they could when I barely had three months to film. I spent nine months on the first Dead Center movie. Hell, I got to spend six months on The Dunwich Horror a 70’s remake that turned out pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. I had a run of good scripts attached to even better directors. I shot the next two Dead Center movies back to back, exhausting but worth it. Three years, five movies, a bazillion dollars, and the freedom to say fuck it, and tell the world I have a boyfriend… speaking of which, I look up and he’s just coming back from the kitchen, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his Bluetooth practically soldered to his ear as it has been since he got the studio green light, but he raises an eyebrow at me, kicks my feet with his and then flops half on me and half on the couch as he finishes his call. He’s such a dork.

I’m still ass over heels in love with him. I’m such a dork.



The guy won’t shut up. He should, but he won’t. Filming starts in two days, and I’ve got shit to do, and listening to him go on and on about schedules we’ve already confirmed is not on my list. I get off the phone with him, and, as soon as he’s clicked off, I pick up the press release. “So, it’s done?”

“Done. Now we just have to confirm that we’re doing People, EW, and Premiere, unless there’s been a change in plans.”

“Nope, I’m good with what we agreed on.” He does this every time we talk, like I might suddenly want to shove us back into the closet. “Jensen. It’s done. We confirm it. We show up at a few events, people get bored, and we go on with our lives, become the gay Brangelina and just start plucking kids from third world countries.”

He stares like he thinks I might be serious, so I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue. He laughs, finally.



I don’t know how he does that. Okay, I know how he crosses his eyes, and there’s not much he can do with his tongue that doesn’t make me smile one way or another, but just a look like that, just a goofy little glance, and I’m okay; I know he’s okay; it’s all gonna work out. We’re set financially, even more so if we want to settle back in Texas, but the truth is, we’re happy here, we have friends, and time enough to go home and see family. It’s all gonna be okay. We didn’t just ruin our lives. At worst, all we did was destroy my career, but we waited on purpose. The studio put a butt-load of money into the Dead Center trilogy, and they’re not going to hold the last two installments just because I’m gay, no way, not when the first one made sixty mil on its opening weekend. No fucking way. Plus, I already got my up-front money on them, so, like I said, we’re set. Now all we have to do is ride out a small media storm.

Christ, I wish that part was over.



He’s starting to tense up again. So am I, but I can’t let him see it. I love Jensen, Christ I do, but he plans everything and has projections and roadmaps, and there really isn’t a roadmap for a major motion picture star coming out at the peak of his celebrity.

Star power is only going to get us so far. The right wing family values people are going to come with pitchforks, and the closeted gays are going to give us a wide berth, lest our gay vibes wipe off on their Armani suits. We’ll make it through. I couldn’t have done this without him. I wouldn’t have done this without him. But then, I didn’t risk as much. No one really cares if the producer or director is gay and I’m just… not that into being in front of the camera again. Jensen? Jensen was born to be in front of the camera, he comes alive there.



We’ve spent the whole day vacillating between being honest and convincing each other we’ll be fine.

The day after tomorrow principle photography starts on Jared's movie, and I’m gonna be sitting here alone, starting my self-imposed year off. Yeah, I’m a chicken, I didn’t want to know if the calls were gonna stop coming in so I announced my year off, which, five movies in three years, I’ve earned, thank you very much.

I roll over, and Jared's trying not to hyperventilate. We have a lunch interview at the Ivy with Entertainment Weekly. They won the bidding war for the first slot. We’re doing coffee with People Magazine, and Premiere gets to come on set with us the second day of shooting. Jared's freaking.

I kiss him, and his mouth, warm, flavored like that disgusting cinnamon toothpaste he uses, is open and pliant, and I shift a little, holding his face and deepening the kiss. I let my hand slide down his face and over his shoulder, down his torso to where I can feel the slight bumps of his ribs. He’s not skinny, but he’s not burly like he used to be. I always thought he did it for himself. Shows I never knew everything about it. He figured if he at least looked like Sam, no one would notice that he couldn’t act. Stupid kid. My hand slides up his thigh and cups his groin through his boxers. He bucks up into my hand, and it’s clear this is what we both need.



He always knows what I need, and he’s right on the money this time. I need to feel him inside me. I need to connect. We took a huge fucking leap, and we’re having lunch with fucking Entertainment Weekly, and that’s a big deal. If they decide to show this as a publicity stunt, or suggest it's because we’re being blackmailed or whatever, it’ll never fly. The only thing I hate about my chosen industry is how dependent it is on people who will never have the whole story. Like that Casablanca guy back when we were still in Vancouver. He was not all wrong, but he wasn’t all right and…whoops… started focusing on something else. Jensen hates that. But the bonus is that now he’s redoubled his efforts to get my attention, and he has it. A knee between mine, his hands touching me everywhere at once. I roll over, on top of him, and although he was all set to fuck me I feel his body shift, his legs spread as he rearranges himself, ready to go wherever I’m leading. The plan hasn’t changed, I just need to show him I’m right here with him. I kiss him stupid. His mouth hot and wet, his hips rolling up against my thigh.

No matter what, we always have this. We always have. Before we had anything else, we had this. Had this the day of our first audition/rehearsal together, had this when I was trying to deny who I was, and he was trying not to sleep with his co star, again. Still found ourselves with this and then…and now...

I pull at my boxers and move off him, lying flat on the bed, bending one leg, just enough, and he groans, groans and tongues at my ear, and my neck. He kneels between my thighs, and I look over my shoulder at him. I love when he gets single minded like this. His fingers pull me apart, and he dives in, shoving his tongue inside me, until here’s nothing I can do but push back on it.



Being inside Jared is like nothing else. Watching him, usually so jovial, just fall apart under me is one of my favorite things. I know he feels the same way about turning me inside out the way he does. and tonight I would have done whatever he needed, followed his lead no matter where it went, but damn am I glad it went here. I fuck into him, hard long strokes, dragging the head of my cock over his prostate on every single pass. so that he’s shaking and collapses back onto the mattress after another minute. He’s pushing back against me, shifting, trying to get more pressure where he needs it when I start avoiding his prostate, drawing this out. I want him relaxed, now and tomorrow, so I take it as slow as I can when there’s six feet four inches of demanding pushy bottom working it like that.

I change to short quick strokes, jabbing at his prostate while I jerk him off slowly. He’s moaning for me and God, and anyone else he thinks might get him there, and then he’s coming, all over my hand, clamping down on my dick like his goal is to pull my orgasm out of me.

It works, and we both collapse against each other. We’ll shower in the morning. For now, we sleep.

Jensen Ackles has had a hell of a ride. After finishing his sixth season of Supernatural he made a horror movie that topped the box office and showed how well he’d honed his skills while making a monster movie every week. When he was chosen to play Roscoe Morte, the lead in Dead Center there was speculation about his ability to perform at the box office. Turns out, all doubts were unwarranted as the movie made 71 million dollars its first weekend, and the numbers only went up from there due to good word of mouth, and twitter rankings. Rather than take a break he took three months with his ex-fiancé Danneel Harris to make All I Need, in which he played a heroin addict, a role that included a now notorious nude scene. He followed that up with Field Trip, a live action Disney comedy that worked for both adults and children. Word has it that Jensen's ad-libs were what saved the movie and again, topped the box office. And now, with the last two films of the Dead Center trilogy in the can, he’s picked this time in his life to announce that he’s gay, and partnered with his long term friend and television co-star, Jared Padalecki. I met them for lunch at the Ivy and found out that after all this time, neither have gone too Hollywood, and they may even have a real reason to come out now. (No, it’s not blackmail.)

Jensen Ackles and his ex co-star Jared Padalecki are running a little late. As they settle into our booth at The Ivy they explain that something came up, but neither goes into more detail than that, and they’re both in the kind of good mood their fans had been used to seeing when they still regularly attended conventions to promote their show.

All of that must seem miles away now that Jensen is the number two male box office draw in the country and Jared is starting his directorial debut tomorrow in a studio film, and, of course, they just announced to the world that all the speculation can stop, they are in fact, a couple.

EW: So, how long have you been together?

Jared Padalecki (JP) turns to Jensen Ackles (JA): What is it now, ten years, give or take?

JA: We hooked up right before shooting started on the pilot, so, ten years.

EW: And why now?

JA: He’s behind the scenes, and I just made five movies in three years. I want to go to those premieres with him. I want to go to his premiere with him. It’s time for me to stop hiding.

EW: Jensen, you were engaged to Danneel Harris. You’ve made two movies with her. Where does she fit in to all this?

JA: She’s one of my best friends, but ultimately I couldn’t live that lie, so we called the engagement off. I’d do another movie with her in a heartbeat.

JP: I tried to get him for my movie, her too, but I couldn’t afford either of them. (Laughs)

EW: So now you’re out. Is this going to change the kind of movies you make?

JP: Not me

JA: Dude, you work behind the camera, no one cares who you fuck anymore.

JP: You do.

JA: I’m ignoring that. I’m ignoring you. You’re not here, you can go home and storyboard some more. You know you wanna.

JP: [Laughs]. I haven’t even ordered yet. You know I’m only here for the pork loin.

JA: [Rolls his eyes.] He’s a little single minded when he’s hungry, you’ll have to excuse him.

EW: I can see you’re both single-minded about each other. Jensen, are you concerned that this announcement is going to limit your project choices?

JA: I’ve picked some good scripts recently, and they did well. I’m hoping my work will speak for itself, but I do know that’s not necessarily going to be the case. I’ll make the best films I can based on what I’m offered, and I will fight for the roles I think I’m right for. When I see a script that just speaks to me I start to think about the char…

JP: Bread! We need bread! And also, you’re taking a year off, so…

JA: Right, I’m taking a year off, I forget sometimes, because it’s been a while since I had any extended time off. I’m looking forward to spending a year catching up on what I’ve missed.

EW: Jared, principle photography starts tomorrow?

JP: Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. I bought the rights to this book four years ago, and it’s been like giving birth. First I had to get a script I liked, and then casting and, okay, maybe not like giving birth, maybe more like making a movie, but tomorrow is the big day.

EW: And Jensen, with your time off, will you be there?

JA: Naaah, this is Jay's thing. We’ve been together so long and done so much together it’s nice to have stuff of our own. Keeps things fresh.

(Jared finishes his food and Jensen slides his plate over with half his turkey Panini and fries on it. Jared starts to munch happily.)

EW: Well, as we wrap up, is there anything you want to say, famous last words and all that?

They look at each other and shrug. JA & JP (in unison): Nope

So there you have it folks, after years of conjecture by diehard fans and random speculation on blogs and by media gurus, it is finally confirmed: Jensen Ackles, star of stage and screen, big and small, is gay and dating Jared Padalecki.



The Article


The People interview over coffee went similarly, and I was just fuckin’ stoked to get back home. When I’m not working, I like having time to just hang out, just be without too much else to occupy my time. I read scripts, sure, and occasionally get all suited up to go make an appearance somewhere, so no one forgets who I am, but… mostly, I just like to hang around in my jeans and remember that I work hard for a reason: so I can get three months of sleep in a row. It was, to be honest, always the part of my dad’s gigs that appealed to me most.

It might be a little easier to do if Jared liked it too, but he’s anything but a homebody. He’s not the LA party boy he was when I met him, but he still can’t just be. It’s not some issue with his psyche or anything, he’s actually pretty centered, but he does NOT like to sit still.

He’s pacing and running a hand through his hair while he talks to someone about something. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the soothing rhythm of his voice.



Jensen's asleep. Of course he is. I start talking on the phone, and his eyes flutter closed. It’s kinda sweet but a little insulting that the sound of my voice puts him out like that. I think mostly I’d be more upset if it happened when I was talking to him, but when he has my full attention, I usually have his, so that works.

I think the interviews went okay. No one really cares what I have to say, I’m just the guy fucking the star. He’s the one with the box office record breakers, and the two new movies coming out back-to-back.

In the meantime Larry, my DP, is trying to walk me through the opening shot. It’s going to be a bitch. All three characters in complete emotional breakdown, in the shot the whole time, and we decided to make it a single wide shot, zooming in a little but a single, three minute take. We’re insane, and the actors are going to want us dead; add to that the kid, only fifteen, his third movie, and sure, he’s grown up on sets, his dad is a frickin’ legend, but that doesn’t mean he can act, just means he knows how to find the craft services tent.

So Larry and I go over it again while I take the blanket off the back of the couch, toss it over Jensen and disappear to my office to get my storyboards. I’ll look at them outside. The office is great for staying organized but I don’t work well cooped up.

I get off the phone with Larry and have a bowl of cereal. I should try to sleep. It’s almost two in the morning, and I’m too wired to sleep at all. Tomorrow I show up as the head honcho. I’m not really good with giving orders. People are gonna think I’m the PA or something. I’m directing and exec producing, because you don’t get to direct your first film like this unless some of your own money is on the line, and it is, and I’m not as worried about the money as I should be. I’ll worry about the bottom line later. First I just want to get through this scene. The mother screaming and crying, ugly and real, the father stoic, and hurt, and the kid yelling, and blaming and all of them in their own world of pain. If they get it, it’ll be a magical moment on screen. If they don’t, the rest of the movie might suck.

Here we go… I’m shaking. I’m pretty sure it just feels like I’m shaking and no one can tell, but I’m so nervous I’m ready to scream. The actors hit their marks; the lighting is set, and reset. We check for sound, we tweak the sound, we set sound again, and then we’re off. “Action!”

It’s gorgeous, even the takes that don’t quite work are so close I want to kiss the camera, and at five twenty. when we finally get the final take, and it’s right I do kiss the camera. And then I tell the cast and crew “that’s a wrap, people. Sullivan’s. Drinks are on me!”

I call Jensen on the way and he meets us there.



Jared is so stoked. I haven’t seen him like this since the first season of Supernatural, when so much was new and required celebration just for getting through it.

He and Larry and the sound guy, Aaron I think, are going over the perfect take experience again. I sit quietly and let him revel in his victory. He’s been working hard for this, and he deserves it.

The bar is pretty much entirely taken up by the cast and crew. The cast is drinking with the PA’s, and I’m just gonna hope the kid doesn’t get too drunk, or if he does, he knows how to handle it. A hung-over 15 year old star can completely blow a production schedule. The fact that they’re all drinking together though, that’s a good sign. You never want your principals to think they’re above all this. Everyone’s getting more and more drunk and we should probably get the guy with the van to drive everyone home… assuming he’s not drunk too. I lean against Jared's shoulder. It’s actually really nice to be able to do that in public. Jared wraps an arm around my shoulder, using his other hand to gesticulate wildly about some scene tomorrow. I hope he remembers Premiere will be there at nine am.

The guys go off to get another pitcher, and Jared leans down and kisses me. “You should go home, all this napping has made you tired.”

“You calling me lazy, Padalecki?”

“What? Never, I’m just saying you’re on hiatus, which means you need ten to fourteen hours of sleep a day. I’m not exactly new at this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go home. I’ll see you later.”

“Stop drinking now then, okay?”

He kisses me, and it’s a little more intense than I usually like in public, but we’re out, and in that honeymoon period of it, and I kiss him back and then leave. I’d like to say I do something interesting, but I end up in bed within an hour of coming home.

When I wake up, it’s to the phone ringing, it’s two in the morning, and Jared still isn’t home. My heart is in my throat. Something’s wrong.



Jensen looks like hell when he gets here. I’m probably not looking much better. I’ve been hospitalized twice before. Once when I was ten, and they thought I had appendicitis - turned out it was something else - and once when I tried to push through season six with the flu. Got dehydrated. Jensen looked angry then. He doesn’t look angry now, but this one was just as much my fault as the flu thing. I open my mouth to apologize, and he shakes his head and takes my hand, leaning his forehead against mine. “Motherfucking Christ, can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so…”

“Don’t okay, let’s just… what do you remember?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to tell him.

“You hurting?”

I am. Everything hurts, but then, I don’t remember much. I remember waking up face down in the gravel by the pallets next to the bar. I remember someone calling my name, and then a weight on my back and then… I shake my head again. “I got jumped, at least two, maybe three of them. I got… oh fuck, Jensen, I think I got bashed.”

He’s holding my hand and staring at it like he’s never seen it before. “We shouldn’t have… I mean, it’s just a press release so far. We… Jensen, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, none of that. You got hurt, we’ll get you better.” I nod and shift my weight which causes a moan. He helps me adjust my position and then sits back down. “The police want to talk to me.”

“You ready to talk to them?”

“Can you stay?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you can stay, I can talk.”

“I’ll tell them. Do you know who it was?”

I drop my head. I don’t know who, but I know they were on the crew. Could have been anyone. I wait, but then when Jensen comes back it’s not with the police. “They want to get an image of your ankle and that wrist. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I roll my eyes, where the hell else is he gonna be? I nod.

We’re halfway down the corridor when I bite back a moan from a sharp pain. They stop and the nurse presses her fingers against my abs. It hurts and they call the doctor.

They’re talking to me, quickly. Something’s ruptured, surgery, internal bleeding. I give permission, and the last thing I remember is thinking Jensen’s gonna be worried.

When I wake up Jensen's next to me. My right wrist and right ankle are both in casts. There’s a bandage over my abdomen where apparently I had surgery and now have stitches. I swipe my hand over my face and feel the abrasions from the asphalt and gravel. Every muscle feels like it was kicked with a steel-toed boot. I close my eyes, before Jensen can even notice that they’re open.



He opens his eyes, and I can feel him shifting, just a little, assessing damage. He closes them again, probably thinks I never saw them open. That tells me how fucked up he is, thinking I can’t tell the difference between him asleep, and awake and in pain. I rest my hand over his cast, my phone buzzes, and it’s nine thirty in the morning…fuck, Premiere Magazine.

Larry wants to know what we’re gonna do, and I tell him to shut down production for the day, we can pick up tomorrow, if Jared can’t do it, well, it’s already storyboarded from first frame to last. Larry will get his directorial credit while he picks up Jared's slack for a couple of days.

I call my manager, he’s a good guy, and he puts a call in to Jared's agent. They promise this will get handled discreetly if we want to go public with the bashing angle. I think that’s what this was. He hasn’t said it to me, but I just have a feeling…and we can publicize the fuck out of it, or keep it to ourselves. Thus far, nothing on TMZ, so we’re okay.

He wakes up just as I hang up the phone.

He does that lazy cat stretch I’ve seen on so many mornings, but it’s never ended in a grimace of pain like that. My heart hurts. It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s true. I hurt for him.

He tries to sit up, and I just ignore his frustrated grunts and press the button on the bed, until he’s almost upright. “How ya feeling’?”

“Like I got stomped on by a bunch of teamsters.”

“Did you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something happened; I was leaving, going home, around one. Sober, happy, ready for the next day, for Premiere…oh fuck, Jensen!”

“Shhh, I got it rescheduled. Finish the story, please.”

“Not much to tell, had to be at least two. I was face down on the gravel and…” he pauses and then the pause stretches, until it’s a bated silence.

“And?”

“And one of them was kicking me, maybe two of them were. Someone else was there, and there were… voices.”

“Saying what?” I can guess, but I need to hear it. Need to beat myself up I guess. Why did I go home? I could have slept anytime. I should have been there.

“Saying stuff about me and my faggot boyfriend. Me and my queer movie. Talked about… just that kind of stuff.”

There’s more, and I’ll get him to tell me but not now. I remember when he broke up with Sandy, she flung a lot of shit at him, some of it even deserved, but he couldn’t tell me all at once, Jay just doesn’t hold that much nasty in his head at one time or something. I don’t know.

I squeeze his hand, he winces, and I curse myself. His hand is in a fucking cast, and I’m… I’m not sure what I’m doing.

“Can I go home?”

“We’ll ask the doctor, okay? But, maybe not yet. I mean, you’ve been through a lot.”

He nods.



I nod. I’ve been through a lot more than I’m ready to tell him. I wasn’t raped or anything, but I remember one of them straddling me while I was on my back, cursing and digging his knees into my sides. I’m hoping the bruises fade fast. I don’t want Jensen to know or to think of me as some… fragile thing. I don’t want anything to change. Except for yesterday, I like my life. I wanna get back to the set, before we fall further behind. I’m hoping Larry has the foresight to shoot some of the stuff that I don’t have to be there for. Jensen says something, I missed it, and, oh, he’s not talking to me. The doctor’s here. Okay. Time to put on my ‘everything’s okay’ face.



He’s pretending he’s fine, and that tells me just how fucked up he is. He did it during the last season of Supernatural, when he almost passed out from dehydration, and the second season when he broke his arm and didn’t bother to tell anyone. Something’s seriously wrong, and he thinks it’s okay to hide it from me. I’d be more worried if I thought there was anything he could hide from me for long. The doctor’s examining him, and Jared's asking me to leave, and, really, I legally have to go. Doesn’t mean I can’t give him holy hell about it when I get back.

I get called back in to hear aftercare instructions. Jared's eyes are half closed, and he’s clearly a little doped up. I wait for the doctor to tell me when we can go home.

“The damage is extensive. He had some internal bleeding that required repair, as you know. His hand and wrist are both broken, his wrist in two places. His knee was over-extended, and he’ll be required to wear a brace when walking, and probably will need the assistance of a cane. He’ll need a physical therapist, and I wouldn’t expect him to be physically back up to speed for months, possibly a year. “

My head is spinning, and I wonder if Jared is hearing any of this.

Jared mumbles, “M’fine.” without opening his eyes. I ignore it. He’s pretty far from fine.

“So when can we get out of here?”

“We’d like Jared to stay for another few days, which will give you time to make whatever arrangements are necessary.”

“Arrangements?”

“Mr. Ackles, Jared can’t put any weight on his right leg, the knee’s been overextended, and his ankle is broken. He can use a crutch, but movement is going to be both difficult and dangerous. He’ll need to start physical therapy in about a month, and I’d recommend a counselor after something so traumatic. We’re going to recommend almost complete bed rest for the first week while his stitches heal, and his bones begin to knit.

“Complete bed rest? I’ll go insane.”

“Or you’ll cause permanent injury that will require multiple surgeries and months laid up. It’s your call.”

He flops back in the bed, and I take his hand. “We’ll get through this.”

He nods but won’t meet my eyes. The doctor hands me some aftercare instructions. “We’ll release him in three or four days if everything is healing well. I’d strongly recommend finding a home health aide.”

I nod and drop the papers on the chair, trying to get Jared to meet my eyes. Two weeks out of commission means the movie he’s been working on for four years has to be handed off. It means someone really did manage to fuck up his life. It means we’re gonna have to come up with a plan. But it shouldn’t mean he won’t look at me.



Jensen's staring at me like he can figure out the last digit of pi if he just doesn’t blink. I drop my gaze first. Let him think he’s won.

The truth is, I’m covered in bruises, and if I can go a couple weeks in t-shirts and sweats then Jensen never has to imagine me this broken or vulnerable. Let him think I’m invincible. I don’t want to be this… this weak loser.

“We should get one of those aides. I’m not letting you wipe my ass.”

“Trust me; I’m not planning on doing it. This is when being movie stars is handy.”

He always does that - acts like we’re both movie stars. I made a few movies. Even made one after Supernatural, a big budget rom com. Tanked, bad. I am a TV has been, and I was going to be a director, now I’m just an exec producer. “I should call Larry.”

“He’s not a movie star.”

I just roll my eyes, Jensen's trying to be cute and entertaining, he’s really not either at the moment, but he nods, “Yeah, give him a call, I’m gonna go get some coffee; do you want me to get you real food?”

I shake my head. The meds are making me loopy and I’m not hungry.



Three days has never taken so long in my life. Not even when I was seven, and it was three days before Christmas. Jared is so ‘on’ with the nurses and orderlies I want to shove them out of the room. I don’t know why he thinks he has to entertain them. They’re here to help him, and polite is fine, but he actually strained himself trying to make two nurses, who were fans of the show, laugh. They left, and his skin was clammy, his breathing rapid, and that’s the first time I saw the bruises on his back, the ones he’d apparently been hiding from me,. I tried to put him in a clean t-shirt, and there they were, one deep bruise on his torso, under his left arm and half a dozen dark marks on his back, like he’d been punched repeatedly. Motherfuckers.

I’m glad I didn’t see these before I talked to his mother. I don’t know if I could have kept the worry out of my voice. As it is I’m not sure I did a good job. Did well enough to get her to agree to stay in Texas. I’ll be talking to her on the phone a lot, keeping her updated, but the last thing he needs right now is family drama.

I wonder if there’s other damage he’s not telling me about. But he’s finally released. He’s going to be pissed, but I had the bedroom moved downstairs into what used to be the formal sitting room. We've never used it. And now almost everything he needs is on the first floor, which is just going to make things easier for a while.

The home health aide they sent over from the agency was a tiny little woman, five foot nothing, and I made them send someone else, someone who could actually be of some help to a guy Jared's size. No, it had nothing to do with the fact that she looked a lot like a combination of both of his fiancé’s… really.



He’s acting like this is the invasion of Normandy. It’s just me coming home from an overlong stay at the hospital. There are paparazzi when we get in the van. I never even thought to ask how the press was handling our statement. I forgot that this is entirely my fault for wanting to come out in the first place. They taught me how to get around on one crutch, but god forbid Jensen trusts me to do it. He’s hovering on my other side, and all I want to do is get to my room, take a shower and sleep in my own bed. I’m heading towards the steps when he leads me back to the sitting room, the one we never use, with the ugly uncomfortable sofa but… the sofa’s gone, and our bedroom has been moved here and…hell no!



I wasn’t expecting him to be so upset. I figured he’d bitch, and whine, but not bellow and yell.

“If you can get up the stairs, I’ll have the room moved back.”

He storms off, or as much storming as you can do hopping with one crutch. It takes him five full minutes where he used to take them two at a time, but he stands at the top of the stairs. “I’m using our shower, and then I’ll be in the guest room. Call the movers.”

And I do, because our bed is this solid constructed thing, and it weighs like four hundred pounds. The frame gets bolted into the wall and the floor and well… yeah, it took movers to get it downstairs, it’s gonna take more of them to get it back. By the time he’s out of the shower I’ve got them scheduled for tomorrow. He’s glaring at me, and the couch I temporarily stored in our bedroom.

I shrug. “I thought it was the right call.”

“And when did my breaking my ankle take me out of the decision making process?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Oh yeah, what is? Is this fair?” He gestures with his clunky wrist cast to the plastic bag around the cast on his leg. I hand him the knee brace, a technical looking thing with metal hinges and Velcro- it’s got more technology than the microwave. He glares at me, and, truthfully, while I kinda want to tell him to lighten the fuck up, the other part of me is glad to see anger, it’s a normal reaction, and I’ve done a lot of scary reading on PTSD recently.

He ignores me and manages to make it down the stairs without falling…, and I wish I had a chance in hell of winning the bed debate, but I don’t, and I know how to pick my battles.



It’s been four days since the hospital released him. Four miserable, grumpy, pain in the ass days. I’m not proud of how much I look forward to when it’s time for a pain pill. After that he gets loopy, and then zones out and falls asleep. The police took final statements in the hospital, but they’re not hopeful about finding the perpetrators. They seemed to ask a lot of questions about how much Jared had to drink, and not that it’s my job to protect him or defend him, but I don’t see what a few beers has to do with the kind of damage he sustained.

I did learn some fascinating facts that Jared had been holding back. There were three of them, at least. They were specifically pissed off that he’d been engaged in PDA’s with his boyfriend after he invited them out to the bar, and yeah, they were on the motherfucking crew.



He’s watching me. He’s always watching me lately. And I admit I fucking lost it when I went down to my office to find every scrap of paper, every note, every board, every doodle on the corner of an envelope gone. I had meant to call Larry, talk to him about what’s next, but, no, it seemed more expedient in everyone’s eyes to just hand the film over to my DP and include my plans, boards and sketches in the transfer.

I threw things, large blank foam core sheets, a couple of sketch pads, and possibly a lamp with an iron base, but we can get the tile where it landed replaced, I’m sure. Jensen looked scared, really fucking scared. and now I feel bad about that. At the moment… I hadn’t cared. Let him be scared. He took my movie away.

I’ve been upstairs ever since. Tomorrow the physical therapist is supposed to come for our first appointment. I’m going to call and cancel. I’m not ready.



He hasn’t been downstairs in four days. I don’t mind bringing him breakfast. I get that he’s still sore, and it takes longer to wake up than it used to. But four days, and he hasn’t come down once. He barely talks to me, not since his freak out about the storyboards and production notes.

I’d be pissed too. I would, but he’s not pissed anymore. This isn’t anger, this is something else. I’m counting on him getting a little more hopeful after his physical therapy appointment.



He’s got his ‘worried face’ on. More so than usual. We should adopt kids just so he can mother someone… someone else. He sits on the bed, runs a hand through my hair.

“She came and left pretty quickly.”

“She sucked.”

“Oh.”

“She doesn’t know what happened, how… she doesn’t know how to fix me.”

“Are you sure?”

He runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it back off my face. I shrug him away. I’m gross and sweaty, and I haven’t showered in two days, and him being nice to me isn’t… that’s not going to help.

“She wants to do this in the gym, like I can get to the gym and still have the energy to do… anything.”

“Well, we can get you downstairs earlier next time.”

“I don’t… I don’t need her. Give me another week, and I’ll be back up and running.”

“She can help.”

“I fired her.”

“Yeah, so she said. I can get a different therapist, or maybe… maybe you need, you know, different therapy?”

“Oh, so, I got beat up, had my movie hijacked and can’t walk, but I’m crazy because it upsets me?” I roll over, turning my back to him, and I can hear him sigh. Can feel it.

“Jare, that’s not… I don’t think you’re crazy.”

He doesn’t. I’m not so sure.



There’s something going on. Something more than him not being able to stand in the shower, or practically jump down the stairs. He was weird before the physical therapist got here. Something’s off, and he’s pulling away from me. I reach out to run my hand through his hair again, I don’t care that it’s probably been three days since he washed it. He pulls even further away, curling up on the bed. I lean down and kiss his shoulder, the only part of him I can get to at the moment. “Call for me if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs, okay?”

He doesn’t acknowledge. I’m really starting to worry.



He leaves, and I’m relieved. I am. My phone rings, and I consider letting it go to voicemail, but I answer. My voice sounds wrecked. I feel wrecked. “’lo.”

It’s my agent letting me know that there are offers to make a movie based on my story.

“What story?”

“Your story; TV superstar, to director, to…”

“Bashing victim? So now I’m a Lifetime movie of the week?”

“Well, not Lifetime, there aren’t any women in your story.”

“I’m not selling the rights to this.”

“Jared, this could be just what you need!”

“I need my fucking joints to work again. I need my movie back; I don’t need to be the subject of a fucking, ceroplastic, piece of shit, melodramatic…” I’d finish, but Jensen takes the phone out of my hand.

“We’re not selling the rights, don’t take any more pitches or accept any more offers.” He hangs up and looks at me. “Did Melanie really deserve that? She’s just giving you options.”

“I don’t need options. I need…”

“To feel better, yeah, I heard. Making everyone else feel worse is not the answer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Anytime, babe.”

“Fuck off, Jensen.”

He does, he fucks off, but he leaves the door open when he goes downstairs. Why doesn’t he just buy a baby monitor and be done with it?



I end up staring at a pile of scripts I’m supposed to be reading and listening for signs of life from the bedroom. Eventually the shower starts, and I thank the lords of real-estate for the built in tiled bench in the shower.

At least I don’t have to worry about him falling and braining himself, or I don’t have to worry as much.

I’ve seen all the bruises now, and although most of them are fading the dark, deep nature of them reminds me that they weren’t superficial, that for a while, he must have felt like he looked… liked he’d been kicked by a couple of large men with steel toed boots. He’s lucky to have gotten away with as little damage as he did, and since we’re talking about surgery for internal bleeding, a broken wrist, a broken ankle and massive contusions over 70% of his body, that’s saying something. At least nothing happened to his head… well, nothing physical. I think he may be suffering some anger, but that’s totally understandable and normal, right?

Two hours later he’s sweating and perched precariously on the bottom stair with a defiant grin on his face. “Told you I don’t need your help.”

I nod, because he did tell me, and then told me a half a dozen more times as I stood at the bottom of the stairs, ready to break his fall when he toppled over.

He can’t grab the railing with his other arm, so it’s just him hopping and balancing, and me worrying and feeling like I’m watching my toddler wandering too far away.

But he’s downstairs, and he hasn’t been down here since he came for his notes and discovered that I’d passed them all along to Larry.

I really don’t want to relive that scene ever again. I don’t usually mind having things thrown at me. But then again it’s usually a paper cup, a balled up napkin, a pillow. This was foam core, and pens, and an iron based lamp that cracked the tile. I’ve got someone coming in to fix it next week but… really not the point.

I offer to make him a sandwich, but he’s not hungry. I don’t blame him.

He hobbles over towards the couch and collapses more than sits. Sprawling out and then shifting, clearly having difficulty becoming comfortable.

He starts up Madden, and I sit down next to him, silently picking up my controller.



I love Jensen, I do, but sometimes the hovering is just too much. I wrapped my cast, showered, dressed, and then started the ten minute descent down the stairs. It only took me seven, so, progress, but of course there were five “can I give you a hands” and three “Jesus, Jare, careful,” comments, before I made it. I’m sweating, and I hurt, and all I want is to collapse on the couch and nap for a week, but I can’t let him know that. I put Madden in instead. He picks up the other controller.

Halfway through the game I focus on defense and ask him, “should we think about getting a screenwriter for the story? I mean if that’s what I am now, the little broken faggot, maybe we should capitalize on it.”

“Hey. Hey. That’s not what you are. You got banged up, but you’re way more than that, and when your movie wins best picture, you’re still the producer, you get to collect the statue.”

“It’s not an Oscar caliber movie, and you know it.”

“It could be, but it doesn’t matter if it’s The Christmas Cottage Two it’s your movie, no matter who’s using your storyboards.”

He’s trying to make me feel better. It’s not working, but I nod and then drop the controller. I didn’t mean to, but it’s hard to hold right with this cast. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.

He looks over at me and is suddenly pulling a blanket over me and giving me a pillow. “You want a movie on? You want some soup? Can I get you some tea?”

“I’m not a hundred. I just broke my hand. Leamme alone.”

He stares at me for a long time and then nods. “Soup.”

“Sandwich.”

“Sure.”

I wonder how long he’s going to keep waiting on me. Could be fun to test it and see.

Part Two