Shine on | J2 RPS | 2/2 | 16,069 words
Part One
When Jensen arrives at the address Jared gave him he feels the last of the tension seep away. He’s been to this place before, a small bar with cushioned booths and a patio out back decorated with potted ferns. Jensen walks in and a quick scan reveals that Jared either isn’t here or is out on the patio. Jensen hopes it’s the latter; he’s not a fan of the vinyl upholstered booths. Sure enough, he spies a familiar pair of long legs stretched out in front of a particularly leafy fern and Jensen hurries over to the table.
Jared is sipping from a sweating beer bottle, label already torn off and discarded on the tabletop. He smiles when he sees Jensen and tugs at the hem of his t-shirt. At the moment Jared looks just as he did when they were in school, young and a little nervous but smiling anyway. Jensen clears his throat and glances around for the waitress, who accommodates him by appearing at their table. She nods at Jensen’s succinct order, “What he’s having,” and Jensen wastes a few more moments by playing with the fern before actually taking a seat.
“Friday night, thought you’d have a dozen parties to go to,” he says. Jared’s smile becomes strained and he takes a long drink from his bottle.
“Yeah, well, the scene can get pretty tiresome.” He says finally. Jensen feels like an ass, he hadn’t meant to turn the comment into another crack about Jared’s lifestyle, but there it was anyway.
“I don’t know how you deal with it,” Jensen says honestly. “Those people, trying to sell themselves all the time, the drugs, Christ, the botox.”
“Most of them, they’re just people who are desperate for their big break, you know? I have ten clients who could all do Brad Pitt’s job in a second, if they had the chance. They’re pounding the streets all the time, trying to make the one connection that’s gonna make their careers,” Jared shakes his head. Jensen thinks immediately about Jeff, about where he might have ended up without him, and nods.
“You’re right,” he says.
“It’s hard, for the ones who really commit. Being in shape all the time, having the right tan, the right accessories, getting into the right clubs, it costs money, and most of these kids don’t have it. It’s a high pressure business,” Jared stops and looks a little sheepish, leaving Jensen feeling like a houseguest who just got caught snooping around the closet. “Hell, I didn’t ask you here to bitch about Hollywood. You’ll never believe who I ran into last week.”
“Who?” Jensen bites, just as Jared must have known he would.
“Carswell,” Jared answers, anticipatory gleam in his eye. Jensen doesn’t disappoint, and recoils theatrically.
“No fucking way,” he slaps a hand down on the table. “Where?”
“Les Deux, he was trying to work the club or something, had an idea that because the place is on The Hills he might accidentally run into a producer or something.” Jared laughs, and Jensen follows suit.
“I haven’t seen that prick since grad school, oh Christ, remember his thesis film?”
“God, who could forget?” Jared groans as he leans back in his chair. “Between the script and that actress it was like being hit in the face with a hammer.”
“My favourite part was when she tried to kill herself by swallowing sleeping pills-“
“But it turned out they were laxatives!” Jared finishes for him. “Jesus Christ, the best was the Q and A afterwards and Carswell going on and on about the metaphor for cleansing your soul of negativity-“
“And Professor McLaughlin finally standing up and yelling that self-induced diarrhea did not count as a spiritual experience.” Jensen is laughing so hard he almost can’t get the words out.
“Man,” Jared smiles down at the table top, “Hard to believe that was so long ago. I feel so old.”
“Old? Jesus Christ, you’re twenty seven!” Jensen exclaims, deliberately not mentioning his own age. “You’re a little young to be so nostalgic.”
“Maybe different, then,” Jared says, and Jensen licks his lips. Different has become a loaded word between them, or at least Jensen feels that way, wonders what he can say that won’t turn into a rehash of their old issues.
“Nah, you’re not that different,” he says after a moment, hoping to make Jared smile. Jared surprises him, doesn’t go for the easy maturity jibe and instead looks at Jensen, a little too serious.
“You think so?” he asks, and Jensen can’t tell if it’s a challenge or an honest question.
“Sure, you still have horrible taste in clothes,” he forces a laugh. Jared smiles then, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and the moment passes.
It’s easy to fall back into the familiarity of this, sitting around and just talking to Jared, about politics, movies, anything, making conversation had never been a problem with them. Not to mention that Jensen can talk about his movie all night long, and with Jared asking the right questions and being an enthused audience he does, and when they part after three drinks and four hours Jensen feels a pang of regret. He doesn’t want to lose this again, the heated discussions and the way Jared listens to him, the way Jared still remembers his cousin Patty and her dog and the time it pissed on his grandmother’s leg at a family barbecue.
“Good night, Jen,” Jared says, hands thrust into the pockets of his coat and shoulders hunched in. Three drinks aren’t enough to be drunk, not enough to justify the way Jensen wants to lean into Jared’s body, put his palms against the curves of his chest. Three drinks definitely aren’t enough to warrant the way he can’t stop looking at Jared’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, “Thanks.”
Jensen goes home feeling wrecked, and if he takes a cold shower no one is there to witness it.
|
Walking into any place with Jared is completely different from anything else Jensen has experienced. First of all, Jared owns every room and every crowd. His chin is always up and his eyes are clear and a smile just hinting at the corners of his lips. By sheer force of will or God or magic fairy dust, Jared just seems to belong everywhere he goes. Secondly, Jared knows everyone. It doesn’t matter where they go, someone will know Jared.
Jensen feels powerful walking into the club with Jared, people just associate a certain status with Jared’s clients and though Jensen still thinks that its bullshit, he can see how people can get caught up in their own hype.
“Okay, man,” Jared says once they’ve done the initial circuit, “I don’t want to be holding you back, and this is your crowd, so I’m gonna leave you to work the room."
Jensen nods, they’re at the bar getting drinks and he’s half involved in a conversation about the surrealist movement in Russia and he knows Jared won’t leave without telling him, so, yeah. He’s cool. Jared is smiling at him, a little odd, a little pained, and Jensen frowns, lifts a hand and turns away from the discussion fully and focuses on him.
“What?” he asks, angling his body so that his shoulder is to the women behind them, giving at least the illusion of privacy.
“Nothing, just-" Jared is blushing and it’s the first time Jensen has seen that since college, “You’re so different, I mean, when you first came to see me with Jeff I thought you were the same but-" he shrugs then.
“I could see how you would think that, I still have all the same clothes I wore in grad school,” Jensen says with mock gravity, hoping to dispel some of the tension. Jared smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah, pretty sure they haven’t been washed since then, either,” he says. “Really, Jensen, you’re doing amazing. The movie is in post, the promos and the press kits are done, man, I just can’t believe-”
“Jared!”
Seemingly out of nowhere a guy in a white linen suit appears at Jared’s elbow.
“Man, I’ve been looking for you,” he says, tugging on Jared’s arm in a way that really pisses Jensen off.
“Noel, right, I was just coming to find you." Jared smiles, but Jensen can tell he’s lying. “Jen, have fun, I’ll find you later, okay?”
“Yeah, sure." Jensen nods, but can’t stem the disappointment that rises in his chest. The past month has been like a whirlwind, with shooting and doing the media thing and being around Jared again, and this was the first time it felt like they were going to have a real conversation. Jensen glares daggers at Noel, whose smooth features and blue eyes don’t come close to compensating for his outfit.
The exchange leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and Jensen can’t shake the feeling of unease for the rest of the night. He “works the room”, as per his instructions, but after an hour he’s done with the whole scene and he just wants to take off but he knows if he doesn’t let Jared know he’s leaving he’ll have a panicked phone call in an hour or two.
Jared’s not in any of the booths or on the dance floor and Jensen has just about given up looking when he notices a bright hallway beside the shooter bar. He sidles up to the bar, trying to figure out if they’re private rooms or just storage.
“Are you looking for Jared?”
Jensen turns, the bartender is looking at him expectantly and Jensen just cannot get used to how everyone seems to know everyone and their business.
“Uh, yeah." He nods, and the bartender hooks a thumb toward the hall.
“Second door down,” the guy says and Jensen ambles down the hallway slowly, wondering if he’s about to bust in on Jared getting a blowjob or making illicit movie deals. He hesitates outside the door, wonders what the etiquette and procedure is for this, but he’s pretty sure Miss Manners never did a chapter on how to walk into a private room at a Hollywood club. Over the thrum of the music from the dance floor Jensen can detect the sound of voices, several, so unless Jared is having some kind of orgy then there’s probably nothing obscene happening behind the door. Jensen decides to go bold and just walks in.
The room is dominating by a large round couch that circles almost the whole room with white cube tables that remind Jensen of art deco chic. There’s a small crowd of about seven people lounging on the couch, each dressed immaculately and sipping Cosmos and whatever else is cool these days, the dude in the white suit is sitting next to Jared, who is bent over one of the tables.
“Dude,” the guy in the suit says sotto voice, nudging Jared in the ribs and Jared leans back up, wipes his nose and says, “What?”
Which is when Jensen notices that Cosmos aren’t the only thing on the tables, and he can only just see the lines of white powder against the already white surface.
“Jensen,” Jared says, “Shit."
“It’s funny, just yesterday I was wondering, for about the twentieth time, how it is that you’re so damned energetic all the time,” Jensen says sarcastically, turning on his heel and leaving the room. His hands are shaking, he doesn’t know why but his hands are shaking. His strides are long and quick, eating up the floor as he hurries from the club, ignoring everything and everyone until he feels cool air on his face and pavement under his feet.
“Jensen, wait." Jared’s voice follows him down the sidewalk and Jensen closes his eyes as he listens to Jared’s footfalls get closer. “Please, just stop."
“So this is what you do, Jared?” Jensen whirls around and faces Jared, emotions bubbling up in him that he doesn’t even try to name.
“No, it’s just, it’s just a thing,” Jared says quickly.
“Just a thing? Snorting coke off a table at a club is 'just a thing'?” Jensen shakes his head. “I told you this would happen, didn’t I? Six fucking years ago and I told you this business of yours was going to take all of your integrity. You know what the worst part is? I’m actually surprised. Jesus Christ, Jared, how many years have you wasted yourself on this?” Jensen takes a step back. “I can’t deal with this. I can’t deal with you, I’m done.”
“Well,” Jared says, a cruel smile twisting his lips, “At least that’s familiar.”
|
“Christ, day I’ve had, I definitely need this,” Jared says as he cracks open a beer. Jensen cocks an eyebrow from his position on the couch, but doesn’t bother saying anything. If Jared wants to have a beer on a Tuesday night, well, that’s not exactly grounds for an after school special.
“What happened?” he asks, slightly annoyed that Jared’s statement forces the question. He doesn’t get why Jared is still sticking with his internship, his boss is a grade A dick and everyone is busy backstabbing each other but Jared keeps talking about the networking opportunities and the work Shell is doing to preserve nature or whatever and none of it computes.
“You know Brian?” Jared drops down onto the couch next to Jensen, their knees bumping.
“Of him." Jensen nods. As disinterested as he might be, he does listen.
“Well, he got fired today." Jared sighs and takes a long pull from the bottle.
“What? Why? I thought he was awesome,” Jensen says, curious despite himself.
“Yep, too awesome. He designed this campaign for the new outreach program so the boss fired him so he could take the credit for it. Nuts, huh?” Jared shakes his head as he reaches for the remote.
“Holy shit, Jared, that’s crazy,” Jensen says, waiting for Jared to launch some sob story about how Brian is married with eleven kids and no medical or something, or about how he took Brian for coffee afterward and they decided to start their own company. Which, actually, is a really great idea and would be totally amazing if Jared ever did-
“Oh yeah, so now I’m stuck making sure the damned project actually happens, which I am in no way qualified for, I might add,” Jared says as he settles on a Friends rerun.
“Wait, you’re staying there?” Jensen asks, voice climbing in pitch with every word. Jared looks over in puzzlement, takes in the expression on Jensen’s face and sighs.
“Jen, come on, man." Jared runs a hand through his hair, “Can we not do this again? Yes, I know it’s a bad place, but this is a crazy good opportunity, I mean, do you know how many people were applying for this internship?”
“I’m hearing a lot of bullshit here, Jared,” Jensen says coldly.
“Well, I’m sorry, maybe I don’t want to have fucking milk crate furniture for the rest of my life,” Jared snaps as he gestures at the side table, a piece of painted plywood placed over a plastic milk crate Jensen found two years ago.
“You’re right,” Jensen snaps right back, “Let’s not do this."
They don’t talk for the rest of the evening, moving around each other in the loft with deliberate care. Jared is already in bed when Jensen turns all the lights off, a long, tense line across the mattress. Jensen reaches out and tugs on the hood of the sweater he’s wearing, smiling faintly when Jared rolls over.
“Sorry,” he says, shrugging a little. Jared reaches out, palms Jensen’s hips and pulls his closer.
“I hate fighting with you,” he murmurs, breath ghosting against Jensen’s chin.
“Me too,” Jensen says, closing the distance between them and sucking open-mouthed kisses across Jared’s jaw. Jared moans, deep and throaty, and pulls away long enough to yank his hoodie over his head. “Yeah,” Jensen sighs, bending down to kiss the warm skin of Jared’s chest, teasing his way over to a pink nipple, rubbing and kissing until he parts his lips and sucks hard on the pebbling flesh.
“Jesus,” Jared whispers, shuddering beneath him. “Jen, I don’t want-“
“Shh." Jensen works his way back up, lingering on the curve of Jared’s throat before lifting his head to look down into the familiar hazel eyes. “Let me do this,” he says, pressing his lips against Jared’s pink mouth.
“Yeah,” Jared pants between kisses, “Okay.”
Jensen makes quick work of their clothes, hands sliding everywhere, wanting to touch every curve and angle of Jared’s body, delighting in Jared’s gasps and moans. He knows Jared in this way, Jared never changes here, he arches just like Jensen knows he will when Jensen reaches down to wrap his fingers around Jared’s erection, using his other hand to fumble with the lube.
“Come on, baby,” Jensen whispers, nudging Jared’s thighs apart gently.
“Fuck yeah,” Jared groans, head thrown back as Jensen pushes slick fingers inside the tight ring of muscle. “More,” Jared begs, ever greedy, but Jensen never rushes this part, no matter what Jared asks for, adding another finger, teasing, stretching. “Jen, please."
“Now,” Jensen says, sliding his fingers free and cupping his own cock. Jared is writhing against the mattress, face flushed with need and spreading his thighs wider.
“Come on,” Jared says, voice cracking as Jensen pushes in.
“Fuck,” Jensen groans, almost overcome as he thrusts into the tight heat, hips stuttering twice before he finds an easy rhythm.
“Jen, Jen, Jen,” Jared chants breathlessly as Jensen fucks him across the mattress and throws his arms up as a brace to keep his head from going through the headboard. Bent over and panting into the juncture between neck and shoulder, Jensen strokes the corded muscles of Jared’s biceps. His tongue darts out, lapping at the sweat that’s beading on Jared’s skin, tasting and smelling and feeling Jared.
That moment, right before he comes, it’s everything good that they’ve ever shared or done and Jensen remembers exactly why he fell in love with this boy.
Later, when he’s lying awake in bed and the sweat has dried and the evidence of sex has been smeared to nothing between the sheets, Jensen wonders if this is all they have left.
“Jared." Jensen pushes at Jared’s shoulder, clamps down on the rush of emotion when Jared snuffles and cuddles up to him. “Jared,” he says, louder.
“Jesus, what?” Jared yawns, knuckles one eye while glaring balefully at Jensen.
“This isn’t working,” Jensen says in a rush, “I don’t think I can do this anymore."
“Jensen." Jared raises himself up on one elbow. “Are you breaking up with me?” he sounds shocky, like how Jensen feels.
“Yes,” Jensen says, barely able to get the word out. He feels like if he opens his mouth long enough the sobs that are rattling around in his chest will escape. His breath hitches and he watches the downward curve of Jared’s soft mouth. You don’t understand, he thinks, I’m only going to hurt you.
“You fucking coward,” Jared says, and Jensen welcomes the sound of his anger.
|
“Do you know what your problem is?” Chris asks, and Jensen can hear him sucking back on a cigarette over the phone line.
“My… have you been listening to me? Jared is on drugs, literally!” Jensen slams a palm down on the kitchen table, wishes for the thousandth time that Steve and Chris were here and not in freaking Nashville.
“Was he doing lines off Paris Hilton’s ass?” Chris says, his voice a rumble in Jensen’s ear.
“This is fucking serious,” Jensen says, angry in a way he hasn’t been for years.
“Little boy, what have you gotten yourself into,” Chris mumbles, and Jensen knows the statement isn’t directed at him. He feels a clench of guilt that Chris can’t ask Jared himself, that when the breakup went down it went down so ugly that Jared lost Chris and Steve, too. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”
“What am I going to do about it?” Jensen scoffs. “Nothing, man, I’m not the one doing coke.”
There’s a long silence on the other end and Jensen might have thought Chris had hung up if he couldn’t hear the other man breathing and smoking.
“Jenny, I love you but sometimes you are a real horse’s ass.”
Jensen closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not my fault,” he says. “Jared is an adult and he made his own decisions.”
“If it’s not your fault and it’s not your problem then why did you call me to tell me about it?” Chris asks.
“I still love him,” Jensen says, and even though it’s not what he meant to say when he opened his mouth, he can’t be surprised. The moment Jared walked out of their loft, rucksack stuffed, cursing and glaring at Jensen, Jensen had wanted to take it all back, bundle Jared in their bed and never get up again. But he thought he was doing what was best, young enough to believe that if a relationship was right, that it was easy.
“Everyone knows that but you, Jensen. Well, maybe you and Jared. You walked out on him because you were scared,” Chris says, as though he can hear Jensen’s thoughts. “It got hard and you got scared, and now you’re doing the same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing, okay? It’s been six years and everything has changed. I broke up with Jared because I was afraid he was changing, becoming someone I couldn’t understand, but now he has changed and I don’t understand him and-”
“You don’t want to try, that’s always been your problem,” Chris interrupts, “I can’t believe you walked away from him again, Jesus. You’re killing me here, Jensen.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Jensen says.
“Find him, apologize, get his Sasquatch ass into detox and then, I don’t know, make sweet gay love.” Chris is practically yelling now. “Is any of this getting through to you?”
“It’s not that easy,” Jensen says, a little desperate.
“Damn right,” Chris says.
|
Jensen is screening his calls because Chris and Steve will not stop calling. He doesn’t dare listen to the messages they leave, keeps himself occupied with post-production, hovering behind the techs as they do the sound edit, bitching at Mike for spilling coffee on the printer, making a general nuisance of himself and driving everyone nuts.
On Thursday a package arrives by courier from Townsend and Hill and Jensen’s fingers shake as he tears open the brown paper. It’s a sample press kit with a handwritten note from Alison and a formal letter from someone he doesn’t recognize. The sentence “I will be taking over for Jared Padalecki” leaps right off the page at him and Jensen once again finds himself in the mirrored tower without an appointment.
Katie’s smile is strained when she greets him.
“Hello Jensen,” she says. “Do you have a meeting with your new project liaison? I think Kurt is available but I’ll have to check."
“No, I want to see Jared,” Jensen says firmly. Jared is not going to pawn him off on some slick haired suit, Jensen is going to walk right into that office and tell him exactly what’s what and he doesn’t care if he has to dance on the red leather couch, but he isn’t leaving until-
“I’m sorry, Jensen, I thought Kurt would have explained this in his phone call." Katie is actually frowning now, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and looking around furtively. Jensen doesn’t remember any phone call, but he’s been leery of answering lately so it’s possible he’s missed a few. “Jared is, um, no longer with the firm.”
“What?” Jensen feels as if someone just cranked up the A/C and can’t help but shiver. “Not with, what are you talking about?”
“He-" Katie looks over her shoulder quickly before leaning in, “He quit,” she says quietly.
“Where did he go?” Jensen asks. Katie shrugs.
“I don’t know, he just walked in and said he was leaving. And he was offered some big incentives to stay, but-" Katie sighs. “Alec thinks that Bristol snapped him up, but I don’t think he had another job, I think he just got tired.”
“How did he look? Did he look okay? Was he sick?” Jensen asks, rapid fire. Christ, how could he have walked away? What if Jared had been so upset he went back inside and OD’d? What if he wasn’t eating properly? Jared only had to miss one meal before he started losing weight.
“Nothing like that, no, he’s fine." Katie pats his hand. “I just meant that he needed a change."
“Is there anyway I could reach him?” Jensen says. It occurs to him, much too late, that he doesn’t even know Jared’s phone number, doesn’t know where he lives or what he does outside of this place.
“I’m sorry,” Katie says, and she seems apologetic, but she’s firm and Jensen gets the impression that Jared doesn’t want any contact with him. After how he acted, Jensen isn’t surprised, but it still hurts.
“Right." Jensen nods, “Well, if you see him tell him, uh, tell him that." He licks his lips and shakes his head. “Actually, probably best if you don’t mention this at all."
“I’m sorry,” Katie says again, and Jensen leaves.
Jensen’s phone starts ringing before he can cross the marble lobby and Jensen has the irrational hope that maybe it’s Jared.
“Jensen." Jeff doesn’t say hi, just says Jensen’s name and allows him a moment to decipher his tone.
“Oh, hey Jeff." Jensen sighs. “Listen, I’m trying to get a hold of Jared, do you know how to reach him?”
“Jared has, for all intents and purposes, fallen off the face of the earth. Sorry, kid, but I can’t help you there. His clients are losing their shit, apparently they need him, I sure feel sorry for the guy that’s trying to replace him.” Jeff says gruffly.
“Right, well, I’m pretty busy right now so,” Jensen says.
“Well you’re about to get busier. I heard back from Mark. If you can get a rough cut in three months, you’re in Cannes,” Jeff announces, and for one brief second, Jensen forgets all about Jared.
|
Three months later
Jensen is buried in post production, he barely has time to worry about what happened with Jared (except he does, spends hours staring at the ceiling at night, what if, what if, what if running through his mind) with everything that’s going on.
A big production with special effects would take a year or more to do post and a small production could do it in five months and Jensen is losing his goddamned mind.
Sleepless nights become his staple and Jensen survives on naps he crowbars into his schedule. The ceiling isn’t very entertaining, basic eggshell white, and by the twentieth evening of nighttime contemplation, Jensen wonders why more thought isn’t given to the decoration of a ceiling in a room. His eyeballs are burning and he deliberately doesn’t look at his bedside alarm clock, doesn’t want to see the glow of digital numbers, judging him. The suits at the studio keep slapping him on the back, congratulating him on his brilliance and Jensen wonders what Jared would say about that.
“What is this? What is this?” Mike is shrieking again, never a good sign, and Jensen feels a deep sympathy for the girl doing colour correction. “This is too magenta, get some more blue in there. No, no, more blue, more!”
“This is the eighth hour of going through rough edits and if he screams in my ear one more time,” Jensen says, ostensibly to Kristen the A.D. but loud enough for the screamer in question to pick up on it.
“This is crunch time, baby." Mike grins widely, “Besides, Tulia here knows that I’m just enthusiastic."
Tulia, in charge of colour correction, doesn’t look like she understands Mike’s enthusiasm at all.
“I could have sworn I had a better take here." Jensen shakes his head, the colour looks fine to him it’s the damned acting that is wrong, which is a problem at this point. He’s pretty sure that adding more blue isn’t going to change the constipated expression on Death’s face. “He’s supposed to look pensive.”
By the time Jensen gets out of the screening room at midnight all he wants to do is climb into bed, maybe angst over a certain wavy haired Sasquatch, and get some sleep. Unfortunately, that’s not in the cards. Jeff is waiting in his office, already dressed for the party they will be dropping in on.
“Where is the outfit Kurt sent over?”
“Hi Jeff, nice to see you, too.” Jensen grumbles. “The outfit in question never arrived, but I’d like to point out that any more attempts to dress me like some Fallout Boy groupie is going to be met with my foot up someone’s ass."
“Duly noted. I’ll talk to Kurt,” Jeff says gravely, thumbing across the keypad of his BlackBerry.
“You do know that in order to meet your crazy deadline my eyes have started bleeding, right? I mean, are we absolutely sure I have to attend this thing?” Jensen fumbles in the top drawer of his desk until his fingers brush against the familiar curve of the Advil bottle.
“We’re sure,” Jeff says, making a hurry-up motion with one hand. “One hour, I promise."
“Promises, promises,” Jensen mutters as he’s steered out the doorway.
Jensen’s not really in a partying mood, and after forty minutes of painful conversation, loud music and electric blue drinks he’s just waiting for Jeff to turn to his back so he can make a break for it. That is, until he recognizes a figure lounging on a sofa along the back well. Hard to miss the spiky blond hair, even with the intermittent bursts of strobe lighting, and Jensen hopes that Chad Michael Murray remembers their brief introduction of five months ago.
Murray narrows his eyes as Jensen gets closer, at least, Jensen thinks he does, it’s hard to tell with Murray, and while it’s not an encouraging sign, Jensen doesn’t back off.
“Hey,” Jensen says.
“Ackles." Murray nods, openly looking Jensen up and down before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. Jensen hesitates; he tries not to sit on anything covered with material at these parties, but reluctantly parks himself on the edge of the cushion, angling himself towards Murray. “Heard your film is getting the Cannes nod."
“Oh, uh, yeah, nothing’s definite yet, but…" Jensen nods, surprised that Murray is aware he’s even making a movie.
“Jay-man told me,” Murray says, and Jensen fights to cover his reaction at the mention of Jared. He came over here hoping to make the connection, but after months of getting nowhere, he doesn’t really know what to do if Murray can actually give him a contact.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with him,” Jensen says quickly. “I mean, after, well, no one I talked to seemed to know where he was."
“He’s around." Murray shrugs.
Jensen fights the urge to shake Jared’s number out of the guy, reminds himself that attacking the only person who seems to know anything could be counterproductive.
“You know, I really want to be pissed at you, but I think that if you could see you way to pulling your head out of your ass we might be friends,” Chad continues when Jensen doesn't say anything.
“People say that to me more than you might think,” Jensen says after a moment.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Murray says. “Look, you acted like a prick, but you got the job done, so I guess that’s something.”
“I know you’re trying to communicate with me,” Jensen says, “But I am not sure I'm getting it."
“That job of his, it was toxic, the whole lifestyle, it wasn’t Jay and it wasn’t healthy.” Chad gestures around the room, the curl of his lip indicating exactly what he thinks of “the scene.”
“He’s okay?” Jensen asks, leaning forward and almost falling off the couch. His palms are sweaty and he rubs them against his thighs.
“Getting there." Murray nods. “If you were interested in, you know, seeing for yourself, you could always stop by 72 Point, it’s a new shop downtown.”
“Yeah,” Jensen says, making a mental note of the name. “Sounds good."
And it does sound good, but the reality is that this isn’t a Sandra Bullock movie featuring a certain dashing British actor Jensen may or may not have a crush on, and there’s no telling how Jared will react to Jensen just showing up, out of the blue, at his new place of work. It’s too easy to lose himself in making sure the rough edit is ready to send out and four days go by with Jensen and Mike holed up in the screening room with various technicians and crew members and it isn’t until Jensen proclaims the rough edit “good enough” that he turns his thoughts to other matters.
He googles 72 Point and finds a live preview website that announces in swirly font that it is under construction, but Jensen can already tell that this firm is nothing like Townsend and Hill. The graphics are funky but stylish and the colours are bright, in sharp contrast to the subdued chrome mahogany palette of Townsend. On the sidebar is a list of current clients, including two local non-profit organizations, a new skateboard designer, a salon and a restaurant. The location is good; Jensen knows they must be doing decent business to afford the rent on that particular street. Looking at the website, Jensen has to admit to himself that he needs to see Jared, if only to know that he’s okay.
Walking in is hard, but the décor eases some of the tension. There’s wood and potted plants and real artwork everywhere, giving the whole place a sense of warmth. A huge leather couch dominates the waiting area, but unlike the red one at Townsend this is brown and faded and overstuffed and looks well used. The low coffee table in front of it is cluttered with current newspapers and local magazines.
“Hi there." A young man with purple streaks in his hair is at the reception desk and he stands to meet Jensen. “I’m Ethan, how can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Jared Padalecki,” Jensen says. “I, uh, don’t have an appointment or anything."
“No problem, man." Ethan picks up the phone, a pink rotary-style contraption and punches in three numbers. “Jay, someone here to see you man, yup, okey-dokey." Ethan drops the phone back down and turns to Jensen. “Down that hallway there, last door on the right, okay?”
“Thanks." Jensen smiles, wondering if it’s better or worse that Jared doesn’t know who is about to land in his new office. The hallway isn’t very long and Jensen peeks into the open doorways as he goes, a kitchenette, a small boardroom and another office. He hears Jared voice before he sees him, laughter trickling into the hallway from his open door. Jensen hesitates in the doorway, doesn’t want to interrupt, but when Jared looks over he freezes.
“Hey, uh, Katie, I’ll have to call you back, okay?” he says, hanging up the phone without waiting for the person on the other end to respond. Jensen has a brief moment to wonder if Katie is the receptionist at Townsend.
“Nice office,” Jensen says, and winces inwardly. Not the smoothest introduction, but it’s the truth. The large antique desk draws the eye immediately, especially with the teetering piles of papers and folders and the pink heart-shaped post-it notes littering almost the whole surface. There’s a loveseat along the far wall, the companion to the over-stuffed couch out front, and two cushioned chairs in front of the desk. Built in bookshelves take up two walls, stuffed with books, little art pieces and PR awards. A small fan sits on a small table in the corner, clicking rhythmically as it oscillates.
“You come here to admire my office?” Jared asks, voice wobbling just a little. He looks good, from what Jensen can tell. White dress shirt, open collar and the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. There are three beaded bracelets on one wrist and a thick leather strap watch on the other. His hair is ruffled and curling haphazardly, and Jensen just wants to sink his fingers into the thick strands.
“No, not really,” Jensen admits, edging in out of the doorway, just enough to be inside the office. “I wanted to see you, have wanted to for a while but, uh, you’re a hard man to track down.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bail on you before the project was done, but I wanted a clean slate, you know?” Jared says.
“The project? No, Jared, that’s not why I’m here, that’s not, that’s not important." Jensen shakes his head.
“Well." Jared looks away, “I heard about Cannes, congratulations. You deserve it,” he says, earnest and sincere and so kind, and it pisses Jensen off a little.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says firmly.
“Why don’t you close the door and sit down, okay?” Jared says quietly.
Jensen nods once, quick and tight, before closing the door and moving forward to sit in one of the chairs.
“I wanted to apologize,” he says.
“What?” Jared’s head tilts slightly to the left as he considers Jensen. “Apologize for what?”
“I shouldn’t have walked away from you that night, I’m sorry,” Jensen says, throat tight as he recalls the night in question.
“Jensen, it wasn’t your problem." Jared waves a hand in the air, and rears back a little when Jensen slams his palm down on the desk.
“Not my problem? You were in trouble and I left you there, Jesus." Jensen is suddenly terrified he might do something really awkward, like cry.
“Dude." Jared smiles a little, “It was bad, but it wasn’t that bad, okay? I wasn’t like, in the streets or something.”
“I didn’t even give you a chance to explain,” Jensen says, and this conversation is not at all going like he’d thought it would.
“To explain what? I was snorting cocaine in the back room of the Pacifico and you caught me. There’s not much more to say than that, it’s not like I fell and accidentally inhaled someone else’s drugs.” Jared says, and Jensen can tell it’s hard for him to be so blunt about it.
“It’s not that simple,” Jensen says. “I should have given you a chance, I should have tried harder."
“Jensen, are you talking about what happened at the club or about what happened six years ago?” Jared asks, and Jensen feels like the words have punched right through him.
“Maybe both,” he admits. Jared sighs then, and for a moment the only sound in the room is the papers ruffling and the fan clicking.
“Jensen,” he says.
“I still love you,” Jensen says, “I never stopped, I just, things were changing so fast, I was about to graduate and you were done and interning at that corporate firm and we seemed to be going in totally different directions and I was so scared."
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jared says.
“What you’re thinking,” Jensen replies. Jared leans back in his chair, eyes flicking up to the ceiling before coming back to meet Jensen’s gaze.
“You were so pissed when you came in with Jeff, but I thought for sure that you would get into all the hype, all the attention and the perks and…you didn’t. After four months you still hated it, it was still just something you did to get your movie out there. That really threw me, you know?” Jared laughs a little. “I think in my head I wanted you to catch me, I mean, not very undercover, doing lines at the club when I knew you would eventually come looking for me."
“Why?” Jensen asks, barely able to get the word out his mouth is so dry.
“I don’t know." Jared shrugs, “I guess I wanted you to stop me."
“Jared, I’m so sorry, I should have helped you, I should have stayed, I-”
“No." Jared holds up his hand, forestalling any further arguments. “I needed to do it by myself, Jensen, I really did. I, uh, told Katie not to give you my new number.”
“I kind of figured,” Jensen says, and he had, but hearing the words hurts.
“Sorry,” Jared says, correctly interpreting the expression on Jensen’s face. “Uh, about the whole, uh, love thing."
“Yeah." Jensen winces. “I mean, you’re probably seeing someone and, wow, awkward, but I wanted you to know because if there was ever a chance that I could, that we could maybe, you know, uh."
“Jen,” Jared says softly, “You don’t even know me anymore.”
“Yes I do,” Jensen says, “I do know you, Jared. I know you love ketchup but hate tomatoes, I know you fall asleep on your back and always wake up on your stomach, I know that you love A Cinderella Story, and not because one of your clients was in it.”
Jared flushes at the last point, but smiles anyway.
“There’s a lot I don’t know, but I want to find out. I want to try, and I know we can’t just-" Jensen stops and takes a deep breath. “I made a mistake, and I’ve got to own it, and I can do that,” he says finally. Jared blinks, recognizing the choice of words.
“Own it, huh?” he says after a moment.
“Man, even when you weren’t, even after everything, all I had to think was those two words anytime I wanted to chicken shit out of something,” Jensen says. “Mike thinks I’m nuts, I say it all the time on set, but then Mike is pretty nuts himself so he doesn’t really get a say." Jensen stops himself, breathes in deep and just asks. “Can I take you out to dinner?”
“Yeah." Jared smiles wide and Jensen nearly swoons at the sight of his dimples, which is both hugely embarrassing and a little cute. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
“Can I kiss you?” Jensen asks, fingertips digging into his kneecaps. Jared looks surprised, but a bit pleased if the flush in his cheeks is anything to go by.
“That might be nice, too,” he says, and Jensen stands, crossing behind the desk before either of them can overthink things. Jared turns in his chair, facing Jensen and looks up, eyes bright and clear and lips parted and Jensen cannot believe he ever walked away from this man. He slides a palm over Jared’s cheek, brushing past the curve of his cheekbone to smooth back his hair and bends down. Their mouths fit as perfectly as they ever did, and Jensen has to work hard to keep the kiss light and easy.
“This is going to be great,” Jensen says, cupping Jared’s chin. “I promise.” With Jared looking up at him, smiling and a little bashful Jensen knows he’s right; they’re going to be great.