(no subject)
Beta by Kate (who put up with me very late at night).
Well. What'reya gonna do?
The song remains the same.
The first time Jensen meets Sandy, he's a little confused. She seems nice enough, but considering the way Jared talks about her all the time, their interaction is... weird.
Sandy rolls her eyes when Jared talks about basketball-which is standard girlfriend bullshit. But she also zones out in the middle of Jared talking about breaking his hand.
"Your head's on fire," Jared says with his mouth all twisted up. Sandy keeps staring at the side of his face. "SANDY!" Jared shouts loud enough to make Jensen's fillings vibrate. Sandy just blinks real slow and flicks her eyes up to his.
"Uh-huh, your hand. I know." She stares at Jared, and there's something weird there. Not bad relationship type stuff, because they both start laughing right after that, laughing for real, until Jared's gasping.
Jensen watches and wonders what the hell's up with these freaks. But he's got his own issues, so he doesn't press it. Other people's private business isn't something he likes to mess with.
That's right around the time they are filming the third episode in their long march into exhaustion, before Jensen really knows Jared, when he knows Sam much better.
Houses of the holy.
Jared talks about Sandy like she's his imaginary friend. It takes Jensen more time than he wants to admit to realize that's pretty much what she is. The undercurrent, when Jensen finally pings to it, is that when Jared says Sandy, he really means Chad.
Chad, well, Jensen isn't sure what he thinks about that. He knows the guy, sure. He knows way more of him, and he doesn't know Jared well enough when he figures out the imaginary friend/name substitution thing to know that Jared and Chad are cut from the same cloth. He's still thinking of Jared as Sam, with more swagger.
Jensen's always been really bad at judging people by anything more than what they offer of themselves.
Sandy pops back up while Jensen's still sussing things out. She's got jetlag and her eyes are a little too bright. It's only when she sucks at the snot in the back of her throat that Jensen gets it.
She watches him watching her. "You're sweet," she says, like she means a whole lot more, and he's used to people thinking that he's simple or stupid just because he always expects more from people than they can usually live up to. She's just another one of those girls, the kind who think they're tough, world-weary, ready to do anything for a break. He's known too many of those girls, and they piss him off and make him want to save them in equal measure.
Jared stomps up just then, as Jensen's about to open his mouth and cut this little girl a new one, and swings Sandy up so that her legs fly out behind her. "Sandra McCoy!" He twirls her around with his face in her hair, and Jensen thinks maybe he'll just keep his opinions to himself since Jared is maybe as in love with her as Jensen'd talked himself out of believing.
A couple days later, Jared looks drawn, more tired than ever and his make up is so thick his moles look like acne. "It was the anniversary of her family's death, man." He rubs at his eyelid with a knuckle.
Physical Graffiti
When Jensen's birthday rolls around, they're in L.A. and he feels like Jared's his best friend. They probably are best friends, for the most part. Except for the lives they live outside of Vancouver. It's like bible camp or high school--they are so close, with no physical boundaries and all kinds of shorthand and inside jokes. But there's the other stuff, all the other stuff.
Like the fact that Jensen always takes his calls from Chris and Steve outside or lets them talk to his voicemail if he can't step away. Like the fact that Jared's caller ID for Chad is BFF, like some kind of teenaged girl, and it embarrasses Jensen to even think about asking what all that's about. Like the fact that Sandy calls Jensen Jared's husband, and Jared gets a little too angry about that-always off camera, off the record, away from anyone's ears but Jensen's.
Jensen's been around. He's seen all sorts of shit that his blushes and downcast eyes make people think he's innocent about. He's friends with Chris and Steve-he'd participated in a train before he knew the term, he ran with Mikey, and, yeah, he banged Jessica Alba-more than once, thank you very much. But Jared and Sandy might be that elusive thing he always hears about, in vague rumors and sometimes in pointedly wrong gossip-Rosenbaum? Yeah, sure, he's about as gay as George W.-but he's never actually seen.
"Dude." Jensen's drunk as fuck. So drunk his stupidity filter was flushed down the crapper hours ago. "Do you and Sandy actually fuck each other?"
Jared's drunk, too. Or so Jensen thought. His face tilts down, his eyebrows coming together and his nose scrunching up. "Is this a proposition, or you after my girl?"
Jensen blinks both his eyes at the same time. Jared still looks as unreadable as before. "What?" That's all he's got for that.
Jared's hand wraps around the back of his neck, tugging him forward. He presses his mouth against Jensen's ear. His fingers grip too hard, enough too hard he feels it through the alcohol. "We don't talk about this."
That's all he says. Not that that even makes much sense aside from the fact that, yeah, it's true, and so? Jared steps back, cocky smile slapped all over his face, and flicks the end of Jensen's nose with his finger. "You're tore up. Pour yourself into bed before you embarrass yourself."
Unfortunately, Jensen already did that. He ends up in the bathroom with some girl he doesn't remember the next day. He thinks he came. He can't remember that either. One of those nights.
In through the out door.
Jensen doesn't do the party circuit, not if he can avoid it. Avoidance is something Jensen knows a thing or two about, since he grew up with overprotective, overly religious, over stressed parents. His best isn’t even nearly up to the onslaught Jared can deliver.
Jared never covers his toes if he can avoid it. He wears flip-flops or tacky Birkenstocks with glittery stickers of puppies stuck on them or goes barefooted. He wears plastic mardi gras bead necklaces all tacked together end to end, blue to yellow to red and a candy necklace wrapped twice around his wrist as a bracelet. He rearranges Jensen's dvds and furniture and does something to Jensen's favorite pillow that it never recovers from. He eats Jensen's food-what little of it Jensen has, since he hates the grocery store.
Jared shows up at dusk with his flip-flops flapping and hair flying all over the place, smacking his gum and laughing.
"Whatever it is, no." Jensen's standing in his kitchen eating baby carrots in a t-shirt his mom bought him at Wal-Mart with bleach stains all over it and cut off sweat pants. Jared bats at him, forcing Jensen to have to duck down and protect his head.
"Lame. Seriously lame." Jared grabs him around the chest and frog walks him toward the bedroom. "We're going to Mike's party."
It's worse than Jensen expected. Much worse. He was looking forward to sitting on the couch and watching the Nextel race he's got TIVO'd, with his finger firmly on fast-forward and a beer in his hand.
"No." It's feeble. Even to his own ears.
"No?" Jared mimics then starts laughing. He's already been drinking, so this is going to be impossible. "There's not enough yes in the world to express how much you're there."
Jared tosses a pink shirt and a pair of jeans at him. Jensen picks out the slip-on Adidas sandals himself.
Jared had gotten a car. Which means serious drinking. Last time he went out drinking seriously with Jared, he'd had to call Chris. Which had been one of those episodes that makes him flush really hard when he randomly remembers it-instant mortification still right there on the surface months later.
They sit in the back of the car, and Jared babbles about Sandy.
"She ate all the shrimp out of the shrimp salad and left the container with the celery and crap in the fridge." Jared pulls out a flask and sips on it. "She got one of those mini-trampoline things and bounces all over the place on it. She put it in the kitchen and bounced up to the top shelves. She bounced her ass right off of it onto her ass and started squallin' like a baby." He starts laughing like a lunatic and has to wipe his eyes with the tips of his fingers.
"Oh-kaaaay," Jensen says and snatches the flask away from him. Southern Comfort. Disgusting and typical.
"Have you ever lived with a girl?" Jared asks and Jensen opens his mouth to say his sister and mom. "Not your mom or your sister, assface. A real girl."
Jared says things like that in all seriousness.
Jensen laughs around the mouth of the flask at the pleased-as-shit look on Jared's face. It's the "ah-naw" look, the "that's fucking right" look, the "I own you" look. Jensen likes it almost as much as Chris's "Yeah, I said that" face.
"Naw, never lived with, exactly." Clothes all up in his shit and tampons in the drawer and bath fluff exploding all over the bathroom, sure, but never the total merging of belongings. He's too protective of his privacy, too jealous of his few minutes of downtime.
"It's fucking surreal." Jared sips at the syrup masquerading for alcohol all a-sprawl with his legs wide open and hand tapping Jensen's shoulder.
This is probably the opportunity that Jensen's been looking for to ask Jared about the whole Sandy thing, but fuck it, they're hanging out and Jensen's mellow from the booze and the hum of Jared's good mood.
"My house isn't really mine anymore, dude, it's Sandy's." He says it with the kind of fondness his pawpaw uses for his meemaw, and that's how Jared generally sounds about Sandy. It's all weird. Domestic, Sandy calling him Sassy and Jay-Jay--casual affection.
"You love it, dude, don't lie." Jensen feels safe, calm, on a bubble of happiness like when he's been outside all day.
Jared lets out a huge bark of laughter. "I totally do, dude. Living alone sucks. Don't know how you do it."
*
Jensen can almost hear the sound of a needle ripping over vinyl when they get to the party. Chad's in full effect. The sort of Big Time Bullshit smile on his face that Jensen almost fears. Chad can bring the chaos like no other-married, single, or fathering children by children.
"Look, man," Jensen tries to duck out from under Jared's arm and ends up plastered to his chest.
"Unh uh." Jared laughs and Jensen feels the vibration through his chest.
"JARED, YOU FUCKING PUSSY!" Chad screams. Jensen's face is pressed to Jared's chest-cotton candy and fabric softener and pot.
Chad presses into Jensen's back with his arms raised up snatching Jared to them. "Group hug, aw yeah!" Chad's beard scratches Jensen's neck and he laughs; he and Jared starting a loop with both of them amping up to full on giggles for Chad and booming bellows for Jared.
"Help me," Jensen moans and goes slack between them.
"Aw, Jen," Jared gasps.
"Pornstar in the cocktail," Chad chatters out. Jensen hates the fucking Dark Angel jokes, and it's some kind of cosmic payback for something he can't remember that Chad is a fan. Chad, apparently, likes all kinds of shitty Sci-Fi media, Star Trek and Battlestar Galatica and the one with the puppets. He wonders who the fuck he is that he even knows that.
Chad pulls away when someone calls his name. Jared doesn't actually let Jensen go, just lets him back away, keeps Jensen pressed against his side. Not unusual. Jensen figures his hair's fucked.
Jared reads his mind, reaches up and shoves his hands around in Jensen's hair. "It's fine, you candyass."
Allison is there with two cups and her huge smile. Jensen smiles back, pleased. Very pleased. "Jensen," she sing-songs.
"No one ever loves me as much as you. It's criminal." Jared bumps him with his hip. "Hey, pretty lady."
Allison laughs at him, laughs with her mouth wide open, totally relaxed and not even bothered by the smarm in Jared's tone. If she were his sister, those would have been fighting words coming out of Jared's mouth in that tone. As it stands, Allison could probably break Jared's nose.
"Take your drinks. You'll need 'em. Tom's here." Jensen's mouth drops open as he reaches out for the Solo cup.
"You have got to be shitting me!" Jared shouts. "TOMMY!" Jared's voice could rattle glass. "TOMMY, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" and Jared spins around and starts pushing through people, hollering for Tom.
"Those two scare me." Allison laughs as she slides her arm through Jensen's. "Hangin' with Chad Michael Murray, huh? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."
"Shut it. You'd probably really like him if you got to know him." Jensen sips his drink and looks down on Allison's smiling face. "Except he'd probably try to marry you, so no dice." Her laughter is genuine, real; Jensen really adores her, just like everyone else.
She steers them out onto the patio, where Chad is smoking pot out of a make-shift pipe made from tin foil.
"Dude, weak." Jensen laughs when Allison almost collapses at the dumbass look on Chad's face.
"What? You packing tools? That's usually Sasquatch." Chad pulls on the pipe, yanking it away from his mouth as it burns him.
Jensen pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Man, at least get a can. I'll set you up."
Which is how he ends up smoking pot out of a Raspberry Canada Dry can while Allison discusses their shared distaste for cranberries with some blonde girl named Hilary that seems to be friends with Chad by the way he keeps trying to get her to "hit this". She refuses over and over, and Jensen realizes it's an inside joke after about fifteen minutes.
"What's up with you and Jared?" Chad says when the girls go inside. He leans on Jensen's shoulder as they both sit on the patio table with their feet on a couple chairs. Chad's barefoot and has some kind of tattoo on his left foot.
Jensen's a little baked. "Me? Me and him?" Jensen points to himself to make it totally clear he's talking about himself and Jared. Chad chokes on the lungful of pot he just inhaled.
"Dude, yeah. You." He sets the can on the table between them. Jensen wants a drink. His teeth have hair on them maybe.
"He's your boyfriend, man." Jensen kicks at a cooler with his foot trying to decide if he really has to get up to get a drink.
Chad laughs with a wheeze, clutching his hand to his chest and rocking back and forth. "What?" He laughs and wheezes, laughs and wheezes. Jensen gives up and gets up to grab whatever's in the cooler. He'll drink the melted ice out of a cupped hand at this point. "Did he say that? Oh, Christ."
Jensen ends up drinking mango flavored seltzer. "No, I figured it out."
"Oh, really. Huh." Chad's face is red through and around his beard.
"Yeah, the whole thing with Sandy is... weird." Jensen is really having trouble thinking about much besides the medicinal taste of the seltzer and how he really wants a corndog.
"Seriously, what about me makes you think I'm gay?" Chad snatches the drink out of Jensen's hand and stares him down with a smirk. He appears to be serious by the fact he makes little waving motions at him.
"The whole Sandy thing is fucked up somehow," Jensen explains.
"I got that." Chad pauses to gobble up Jensen's drink. "But you leap from Sandy's a beard to I'm fucking Jared up the ass? What were the middle steps?"
Jensen has a whole longwinded explanation. He really does, but he can't be bothered. Corndogs are in his near future. So maybe is getting laid. "He calls you his wife." This seems to be the best shortcut to explain it all.
Chad's eyebrows shoot up and he starts laughing. "Yeah! He calls you his piece on the side, dude. Is there some assfucking going on there? Because, seriously, he's holding out like a little bitch on that info then."
Chad's way too eloquent when stoned. Jensen can't cope.
"Sandy and Jared are not right." If he repeats it enough, maybe he can escape and find some salt and pork products. Maybe a pudding pop. Or banana pudding.
"They are totally perfect for each other. In a gay way." Chad hops down off the table and presses the drink into Jensen's stomach. "Why do you think Jared's AWOL? Hm?" Chad waggles his eyebrows. His eyes are really fucking blue even in the white light of the floodlights in the backyard. "You got the idea, but you picked the wrong guy, man. It's flattering that you don't listen to the gossip about me and shit, but most of it’s true. Sad to say." Chad doesn't look too sad.
"Sandy's," Jensen whispers because sometimes when he's drunk or stoned his upbringing asserts itself. "A lesbian?" He wasn't expecting that. At all.
Chad just laughs his fucking ass off, slapping Jensen on the back. "Oh man." That's all he says. Like Jensen's retarded.
When they get back into the house, Mike's holding court in the living room. His smile makes Jensen feel dirty, like all the things he's thought about women but would never really do make him a crappy human being, really.
He hears Jared's bellowing laughter and turns his head just in time to catch Tom's head tilted down, his shaggy hair brushing the side of Jared's face as he whispers in his ear. Jared's lost his necklace, and Tom's relaxed when he pulls back, smiling. Not the scary smile that wilts lettuce and makes babies cry. It's a pleased, sort of happy, smile.
It clicks-snap, snap, snap-and Jensen feels vaguely disappointed. Jealous, even though he has no reason to be. Chad's right there, though, at his elbow, and he's yelling "Sasquatch!" and "Supes!" before Jensen really gets his bearings. Jared's eyes flick towards him, and he makes eye contact with Jensen.
He's really fucking high, because he feels Jared's attention in his belly button. Jared lifts an actual glass to his mouth, not a plastic cup but an actual glass that catches the overhead light. Tom peels away from Jared when Chad makes it over to them. Jared lowers his glass, and Jensen realizes they haven't broken eye contact the whole time.
"Oh, Jensen." Allison sighs at his elbow. Jensen glances down at her, and she's got that worried-eyed look. "You don't want to get tied up in all that, do you?" She whispers it, wrapping her hand around his elbow. "You're such a sweetheart, and, well, you know."
He doesn't know. That's the whole thing. He's too stoned to really think about it, though. Too stoned and too himself. He thinks about Sandy suddenly. Allison presses into his side and he thinks about Sandy and Allison. That does it for him in a way that indicates maybe Allison's right about him and Jared. On the other hand, he was already hard before his mind threw up the image of Allison in a school girl outfit spanking Sandy, so.
"I need a drink." Allison's lipgloss is smeared, and he wipes it with his thumb.
"I hear that." She smiles, and this is a done deal here. "You know I'm not going home with you." She laughs right up at him, right in his face. It's been a longass time since that's happened.
"Can't blame a man for tryin'," he smiles down at her, smiles because he'd rather be amused than depressed, because she's a good person and she can do better than him anyway, and he watches her rethink what she said. He's used to that, too. He won't take her home, though, because he isn't the kind of guy who takes what's not offered freely and without reservation. Feels like cheating, a little like rape. She smells great, though.
If wishes were horses, but he doesn't even know what he's actually wishing for.
*
wtf27 fic number two: forced union.
Next up: high school. HAHA! Oh baby. Poor Sam.