Fic: Taking Turns (Holding This World). AU RPS. Jensen/Jared. NC-17. Part 4

[felisblanco]

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Master post | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Epilogue | Art post



Seven years later.

Jensen sighed as his sister went off on another rant on the other end of the line. He contemplated setting the phone aside and just get back to his work while she prattled on but that would only result in her throwing an even bigger fit the next time he talked to her. Besides, he was pretty much all she had and, even if he told himself he had no reason to, he still felt guilty for leaving her to handle everything after their dad’s stroke.

“I don’t care, Mac,” he finally cut in. “Sell it. Give it away. Just leave me out of it.”

“I can’t do that,” she hissed angry. “I know you don’t care about the family name or how everything dad built up is going to the dogs but do you really want it all to end up in the hands of our favorite weasel?”

Jensen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you been listening to a word I said? Tom fucking Welling, Jensen! He’s walking around like he already owns the place.”

“What?” Jensen sat up, anger starting to boil in his stomach. “What the hell does he think he owns?”

“Jesus Christ, Jensen, didn’t you read the files I sent you?”

Jensen eyed the unopened envelope on the kitchen table. “Sis, you send me files all the time. I’m not with the company, why the hell would I read them?”

“You still own twenty percent, bro, same as me. But now Tom claims he’s got Josh’s twenty, as well as mom’s, that dad sold them to him.”

“What?” Jensen sputtered. “No fucking way. When?”

“Right before his stroke. It’s got his signature, alright. But you know dad would never have sold mom’s share out of the family. And Josh’s? Our brother hated Welling.”

“Everyone hates Tom Welling,” Jensen muttered. His mind was in turmoil. If what Mac was saying was true Welling now held forty percent of the company, making him the main shareholder. “You think he forged dad’s signature?”

“Of course he did! And it’s perfect because it’s not like dad can tell on him, being pretty much braindead.” Her voice broke over the phone and Jensen closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“This is really serious,” he said slowly.

“Yes! I’ve been trying to tell you and you just… You don’t give a shit! It’s ours, it’s what dad built for us and you just don’t give a flying fuck about any of it. Fucking Broadway is more important to you than we are.”

“You know that’s not true,” he tried but there was no stopping her when she was on a roll.

“It’s been seven years, Jensen. Dad is dying. Isn’t it about time you stopped being such a stubborn ass and forgave him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said defensive. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Listen,” he hurried to add before she started in on something he really didn’t want to talk about, “we’ll have a lawyer look it over, see if there’s any chance of disputing it in court. A proper honest lawyer.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she snorted. “Welling owns the biggest law firm in the city. Everyone’s in his pocket.”

“Well, I’m not in your city, am I? I’ll find someone, don’t worry.”

He snapped the phone shut and closed his eyes. Fuck. He really didn’t care about the company but his sister was right. He did hate Tom Welling. And it would be a cold day in Hell before he let that man have what was rightfully theirs. His brother hadn’t worked himself to an early death with his devotion to the company only to have his share fall into the hands of someone like Welling who only cared about profits and nothing else. And damn if he was going to let Tom have his mother’s share either, even if her death had nothing to do with the company or Welling and everything with driving home drunk from a cocktail party. Which come to think of it had been at Welling’s house so…

Jensen stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the bright lights of Broadway. He had no idea where to look for a lawyer, especially not a trustworthy one. Not like they were labeled especially in the phonebook. Honest Inc. We Will Not Screw You Over! His knowledge of the criminal side of life was limited to the occasional drunken calls from Chris and Steve, telling him he should do a musical about undercover gay agents who fall in love and have lots and lots of buttsecks.

Well, if anyone would know honest people…

Jensen flipped the phone open again and scrolled through his contacts, pausing over Chris’s name before continuing down to Steve. This time of night Chris was just as likely to be either drunk or working. Either way he was better off with Steve.

“Hey, man,” Steve said. There was a sizzling sound in the background and then the unmistakable bang of a pan hitting the sink. “You coming over for dinner?”

“Still in New York, man,” Jensen said with a smile. “Dinner’s gonna be cold before I reach Washington D.C.”

“Oh. Something wrong?” Steve asked, sounding worried. “You never call unless you’re in the district.”

It wasn’t a complaint, just an observation but Jensen still felt guilty. When he’d moved out from his parents seven years ago he’d contacted his old college buddies, desperate for some company, and Chris and Steve were the only ones who’d been genuinely happy to hear from him even if they’d been seniors back when he was still a freshman. They didn’t meet often but Jensen sent them tickets to all his musicals and even if they hardly ever showed up they still lied and told him how awesome it was.

“I need a lawyer,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

“Aw, Jenny, you kill a guy?” Chris suddenly said which meant Steve must have put him on speaker. “Again?”

Jensen laughed. “Ass. No, I haven’t killed anyone. I might though if you don’t stop calling me a goddamn girl’s name.”

“I will as soon as you show me any evidence you’re not. And your dick doesn’t count. So what do you need a lawyer for? Don’t your family already have one, that vulture Welling?”

“That’s kinda the problem.” He quickly went over what Mac had told him. “I just know there’s no way dad would ever have signed those shares over to him. There has to be a loophole somewhere. I need someone who is smart and capable and won’t screw me over just because I’m a fucking Ackles. Especially since it doesn’t mean shit. I haven’t touched my dad’s money since I moved out. And now it looks like I won’t have to worry about that, if Welling has his way.”

“I told you, you should have gotten rid of that fucker years ago,” Chris huffed. “The man is a fucking criminal.”

“But you never wanted to tell me why,” Jensen said patiently. “And I couldn’t exactly give dad ‘he’s a fucking criminal’ as a reason. Not when you won’t even tell me what he’s supposedly done.”

There was silence for a while, Chris no doubt sulking while Steve was finishing up dinner.

“We might know someone,” Steve suddenly said, quickly followed by Chris hissing, “Steve!”

“Yeah?” Jensen said, frowning. “So why is Chris trying to shut you up?”

There was a mumble of hushed voices and then Chris said “Fine! Your fucking funeral, man.”

“Guys?” Jensen asked worried.

“He’s young, barely out of school, but he’s good,” Steve said. “And he’s honest. I promise he won’t screw you over.”

“He’s a corporate lawyer?”

“Well… actually he’s a civil one. But,” he hastened to add when Jensen started to protest, “I promise you, he can do it. This guy is smart, man. Trust me.”

“I do,” Jensen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just worried. I mean, you know I don’t care about the company but Mac does. And hell, I don’t want Welling getting his hands on what’s ours.”

“Someone should have put a bullet in that fucker’s brain a long time ago,” he could hear Chris mutter. “Steve, this is not a good idea. He’s gonna…”

“Chris, shut up. Listen, Jensen. I’ll call the guy, ask him to contact you. You can at least hear what he has to say.”

“Yeah, okay.” He walked over to the couch, sinking down on it. “So what have you guys been up to?”

“Oh you know,” Chris mumbled, obviously chewing. “Killing people, shooting things, the family business.”

Jensen laughed. “One day I am gonna write a musical about you two. Of course it will have to be a romantic comedy and you’ll get all the girly songs.”

“Did you miss the part about killing people?” Chris muttered. “Cos I can shoot you all the way from over here and still make it look like a suicide. I’m just sayin’.”

“You’d love it. I’m thinking the main love song can be called ‘Actually, that is a gun in my pocket.’ It will have violins and a cello.”

“I hate you.”

Jensen smiled. “I know you do.”

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

“Are you insane?” Jared said incredulous. “He’ll recognize me on the spot!”

Steve sighed. “Jared, he won’t. You look nothing like you did back then.” When Jared just glared at him he added frustrated, “And for fuck’s sake, what if he does? What’s the big deal?”

Jared dropped his gaze, staring down into his coffee. “What about Welling?” he asked, avoiding the question. “What if he recognizes me? The man thinks I’m dead. Burned down with that building. If he recognizes me I’ll soon be dead!

Steve shook his head. “You were a scrawny kid he only met for a couple of hours seven years ago. Now you’re all dressed up and filled out and smell like money. No way he’ll even suspect it.”

“I haven’t changed that much,” Jared mumbled.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Are you serious? You’re a completely different person. I wouldn’t recognize you for the same guy if I hadn’t been there all the way, watching you grow up.” Steve sighed. “If you really are that worried, use a disguise. Grow a beard or put some glasses on or something.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you know, that only works if you’re Clark Kent. Steve, there is only bad here. If Welling recognizes me he’ll have me killed. And if Jensen recognizes me…” He swallowed. “I don’t want him to, ok?”

Steve held his gaze for a moment then shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t get you, man. Just because you’re hiding from Welling doesn’t mean you can’t tell Jensen who you are.”

“You’re acting like it actually matters,” Jared said tired. “Steve, why would he even care? I’m just some guy he hooked up with for one night. You said yourself he’s never brought it up. I bet he’s forgotten it ever happened.”

Steve just looked at him. “If it doesn’t matter why are you so against it?” he asked.

Jared shrugged. “I never said it didn’t matter to me.” He stood up to get away from Steve’s sympathetic look, walking over to the window to stare out over the shadowed city. “Look, I get it. He’s your friend and you want to help him. But even if there wasn’t a homicidal maniac involved… I just don’t want anything to do with that part of my life, ok?”

“Are you ashamed?” Steve asked quiet. “Seriously, Jared, is that it? Are you ashamed of who you were back then?”

“No. That’s not…” He swallowed. “Well, it’s not exactly on my CV, is it? People look at those kids and you know what they think. Doesn’t matter that I never… They’re still gonna think it.”

“So? You tell them the truth. Be a success story, something kids like that can look up to.”

“Yeah? Is that why you and Chris are out and proud at the Bureau?” Jared asked sarcastic. “Oh wait…”

Steve slapped him impatiently over the head. “Don’t give me that, man. You know if we were they’d break us up, assign us other partners. No way I’m trusting anyone else with Chris’s crazy ass.”

Jared huffed but he didn’t argue because yeah, he knew. Gay or straight, the Bureau didn’t like partners getting romantically involved. Not that he was sure the word ‘romantic’ could be used for what Chris and Steve had. Love, no doubt, but romance? He could just imagine Chris’s face if anyone so much as implied it. Which was why Jared definitely was going to, next best opportunity. Talking about Chris…

“Where is Chris anyway? Don’t tell me he bailed, letting you do all the dirty work.”

“He’s catching up on paperwork. Or, you know, having a beer and waiting until it’s safe to come home. He’ll probably be here soon though, if you want to wait.”

Jared shook his head. “Better not. I have my own paperwork to catch up on.” He sighed when Steve just looked at him expectantly. “Ok, ok. I’ll call the guy. Listen to what he has to say and offer him advice or whatever. But I’m not meeting him. If he really does need a lawyer I’ll let Misha handle it. He’s good.”

“Thank you.” Steve smiled and visibly relaxed. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you should. This is so not what I wanted to do today,” Jared muttered as he pulled his jacket on. “Or you know, ever.”

“You have to accept your past to embrace your future, man,” Steve said calmly.

“Dude, don’t Zen me,” Jared snorted. “I’m not your goddamn grasshopper.”

Steve smiled but his eyes remained serious. “No, but you’re my friend. And in many ways like my little brother so… Just think about it, ok?”

Jared looked away but then he nodded. “Yeah. Just… Don’t get your hopes up.”

Steve didn’t say anything but the smile showed he thought he’d won.

Jared paused in the doorway. “If I’m your little brother, what does that make Chad?”

Steve didn’t even hesitate. “The smelly flee-bitten monkey that followed you home and we can’t get rid off.”

Jared laughed all the way down the stairs.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

As much as Jensen wanted to think he didn’t really care that much what happened to his dad’s company, by the third day of waiting for an answer from Steve and Chris he found himself eyeing the phone, even checking it a couple of times to be sure it had a signal. His sister had so far called him three times, asking him if he was going to do something or just sit with his thumb up his ass like usual. Not having anything to throw back at her was really starting to annoy him.

When the call however did come it caught him off-guard. In fact he was sitting on his couch, wearing a t-shirt and boxer briefs, watching basketball on TV and his absentminded “Yeah?” was muffled by the chunk of pepperoni pizza in his mouth.

“Jensen Ackles?” a voice asked

Jensen swallowed down his bite with a mouthful of beer. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Silence.

“Hello?” He frowned. It wasn’t like he gave out his number to just anyone. God, he hoped it wasn’t someone he’d met drunk at a bar because that would be awkward. “I’m gonna hang up now,” he finally said. “Nice not talking to you. We should really do it again sometime.”

“Steve Carlson asked me to call you,” the voice on the other end quickly said. “About some legal problems you were having.”

Jensen sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Oh. Yes. Great! Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting a call right now.” He waved his hand at the tableau in front of him as if the person he was talking to could actually see it. “Friday night. Pizza and beer. You know how it is.”

There was another pause. “Right.” The guy cleared his throat. “Anyway, he told me the basics but maybe you can go over them with me so I can see if there are grounds for legal action.”

“Sure!” Jensen repeated the story in pretty much the same words as he’d told Steve. “So that’s that. I mean, the documents look legal enough to me but what do I know, right? That’s why I need you.” There was no answer. If it hadn’t been for the even breathing he could hear over the phone he’d think the guy had hung up. Or maybe he’d fallen asleep. Jensen rubbed a hand over his face. “You there? I didn’t bore you to death, did I?”

“I’m here, just thinking.”

Jensen nodded and used the extended silence to eat another slice, eyes on the TV screen. His team wasn’t doing too well and as he watched they managed to fuck up yet another pass, allowing the other team to score. Again. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry?” the voice asked, sounding as if the guy didn’t know whether to be confused or insulted.

“Sorry. Not you. The goddamn Spurs are whopping my ass. Well, not mine, my team’s.”

There was silence for a while but then he heard a low chuckle on the other end. “Well, I’ll be damned. I forgot there was a game on tonight. Glad to know they can kick ass without me watching over them.”

Jensen groaned. “Great. Steve hooked me up with a Spurs fan? I’m gonna need to have a word with that man. Making me sleep with the enemy.”

There was another long silence and Jensen wasn’t sure whether he’d insulted the man or if he just liked leaving people waiting in suspense for every sentence.

“Can you send me the documents you have?” the voice finally asked, curt and businesslike. “I’ll need to read them over.”

“Sure. Fax or email?” Jensen wrote down the guy’s email. “Wait, I forgot to ask, what’s your name?”

There was a long pause and then the guy cleared his throat. “Padalecki. Jared Padalecki.” He spelled it for Jensen to write down.

“Thank you, Jared. I really appreciate this. I mean, I’ll pay you, of course. I just… I need someone I can trust and not to be rude or anything but all the lawyers I know are scumbags. But if Steve says you’re good then I trust you.”

“Uhm… thanks.” Jared cleared his throat again. Maybe he had a cold. “I’ll call you once I’ve gone over everything, let you know what options you’ve got.”

“Great!” Jensen leaned back on the couch, groaning when another pass went foul. “Oh man, are you watching this? Fucking tragic.” Jared didn’t answer at once but after a moment Jensen could hear a TV being turned on at the other end of the line. A low chuckle confirmed his suspicions. “You laughing at me?” he asked, faking insult.

“Are you losing? Then yeah, I guess I am.”

“Jerk.” Jensen smiled when Jared laughed. It was a nice laugh, happy. The voice was nice too, the slight Texas twang a nice addition to the otherwise non-descript accent. “Hey, where you from? Sounds like you’ve got a little bit of Texan in you.”

“Not so little,” Jared said with an obvious smirk and then they both went awkwardly quiet. “Uhm, I mean, yeah. San Antonio. I’m surprised you noticed. Haven’t been back there since I was fifteen. Thought the accent was gone by now.”

“Takes one to know one,” Jensen said with a grin. “My folks are from Dallas. Although we moved to LA when I was ten.”

“Seriously?” Jared laughed. “I had no idea.”

Jensen frowned. “Why would you? We’ve just met. Well, technically we haven’t met but you know.”

Jared was silent for a while. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I should probably get back to work.”

“It’s Friday night, dude. Sit back, relax and watch the game. I’m telling you, my boys are gonna whop your boys asses. You just wait and see.”

Jared snorted. “With five minutes to spare and fifteen points to go? Yeah, that’s gonna happen.”

“We ride on faith and fly with fortune,” Jensen said pompously and Jared laughed.

“You sound like a pastor I once knew.”

“Actually I’m a writer. Well, composer slash writer. I write musicals.” He held his breath, waiting for the usual gay joke but it didn’t come.

“I know,” Jared said instead, his voice oddly quiet. “I love your plays.”

Jensen blinked. “You’ve seen them?” Not to sell himself short or anything but he wasn’t exactly Andrew Lloyd Webber. Apart from a short magazine article last spring he was lucky to get mentioned in the paper at all.

“Yeah. Haven’t missed one.”

He sounded forlorn and Jensen straightened up, feeling like he was missing something. “I’m sorry but should I know you? Were we in school together or something? I mean, not even my sister has seen more than two.”

Jared laughed softly. “Nah,” he said. “I’m just a fan.”

“Oh. Uhm…” He didn’t know what to say. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a fan before.”

“Technically we haven’t met,” Jared reminded him.

There was something odd about the way he said that but Jensen couldn’t really put his finger on it. “Well, consider yourself invited to all my musicals from now on,” he said lightly. “Even the one I won’t let my sister see.”

“Why’s that? Too much violence?” Jared asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“More like too much nudity.” Jensen laughed, feeling awkward. “Imagine Moulin Rogue but with gay strippers and more strategically placed feathers.”

“Ah.” Jared chuckled. “Well, that one I’ll definitely have to see.”

Jensen could feel his face splitting into a grin. He knew it. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

Were they flirting? It felt like they were flirting. Which was weird because he didn’t even know what the guy looked like. He could be five feet tall, three hundred pounds and sporting a pornstache for all he knew. Not that Jensen considered himself shallow but jeez, there were limits. Jared didn’t sound like an obese German midget though. In fact he sounded tall. And hot. And definitely interested.

“Let me know next time you’re in town and I’ll let you watch a rehearsal. Or hey, if you decide to take the case, you’ll be coming here anyway, right?”

There was silence for a long time but then Jared sucked in his breath. “Yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“I have to go. It was nice… I mean…” Jared coughed. “I’ll call you. About the case.”

“Thanks.” Jensen wiped his palm on his jeans, strangely nervous all of a sudden. “That would be… yeah. Great.”

Jared hung up, leaving Jensen feeling oddly at loss. The game was over two minutes later but he didn’t even notice the score. He sat staring into space for a long time, thinking of Jared’s voice, his laugh and the constant silences, as if the man needed to calculate his words before uttering them out loud. Jensen couldn’t help wondering why that might be. Finally he jerked awake, shaking his head over his own weirdness and got up to put the rest of the pizza away. Then he grabbed another beer and returned to his laptop. The fact that Googling Jared Padalecki didn’t pull up anything only left him more intrigued.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

“What happened to the Misha plan, man? That was a good plan. This? This is a bad plan. A suicidal plan. This is a plan that can actually get you killed! That’s what I call a bad plan of fucking gigantic proportions!” Chad waved his hands angry, indicating just how much of a mistake he thought Jared was making and almost smacking him in the face in the process.

Jared leaned against the kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. Should have just made up some story to explain why he was leaving for the airport with an overnight case at such a short notice. Not like he didn’t know how touchy Chad was on the whole Ackles issue. In seven years he’d refused to even step a foot in LA and whenever Jared mentioned that night Chad went completely silent and just glared at Jared for daring to bring it up.

“Dude, you can not do this!” Chad continued. “What part of suicidal don’t you get?”

“Will you stop bitching and just listen to me for five seconds?” Jared said exasperated. “I want to do this, ok? I want…”

Chad rolled his eyes. “You want another chance at boning Jensen Ackles,” he spit out as he violently opened the fridge, getting out a bottle of beer before slamming the door shut again.

Jared flinched. “Chad! Will you just…

“Jared!” Chad growled frustrated, twitching the cap off his beer. “Remember the big scary fucker that was planning on selling us as sex slaves? He’s the guy you’ll be going up against if it comes to anything. And as for Ackles… I’m still not hundred percent sure he didn’t have anything to do with the whole thing.” He raised the bottle and gulped down half its content. Apparently he’d decided drunk was the way to go even if it was eight o’clock on a Thursday morning.

Jared clenched his jaw. “Chad, shut up. The guy’s a frigging Broadway composer, ok? He writes musicals with people dancing and singing. Singing! That sound like a sex-slaving maniac to you?”

Chad paused. “Actually,” he said with a frown, “I’d say that proves my point. You can not do that shit without being at least a little bit insane.”

“You should know,” Jared bit back, feeling triumphant when Chad blushed. He’d never live that attempt at poetry down. Seriously, who rhymes ‘mine’ with ‘vagina’?

“Look,” he continued before Chad started yelling again. “I’m going. I need to talk the case over with Jensen and I can’t do it properly over the phone.”

“Misha…” Chad began but Jared shook his head, shutting him up.

“Misha has enough on his plate,” he said, taking a last gulp of his coffee before putting the mug away in the sink. He didn’t add that Misha was also funny, good looking and on the rebound from a bad break up and that even though Jared wasn’t going to get into anything with Jensen himself it didn’t mean he had any interest in pushing attractive men in Jensen’s lap.

By the look Chad was giving him he didn’t have to.

“You’re not gonna listen to me, are you?” Chad said, the most of his anger now replaced by worried resignation.

“I’m going,” Jared said firmly, shouldering his briefcase and picking up his bag. “So, no.”

Chad sighed. “Fucking idiot. I hate you.”

Jared gave him a small smile. “I know,” he said and gave Chad a pat on the back. “I hate you too.”

“Just promise me you’ll stay clear of Welling,” Chad said, following him out of the apartment and to the elevator. “And if Ackles recognizes you… Have a cover story ready, ok? One that doesn’t involve how we stole half a million dollars from the man that’s trying to rip him off.”

“Technically we didn’t steal it,” Jared pointed out. “It was handed to us. By the FBI.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “It was handed to us by a member of the FBI who wanted to thank us for saving his boyfriend’s ass. And who’d get his own ass handed to him on a stick if the FBI found out. You’re not exactly selling your case here, pal. And I thought you were supposed to be the slick lawyer.”

“Shut up,” Jared muttered. “I’ll just tell him I reconciled with my family and then inherited a lot of money.”

Chad shook his head. “How did you ever survive law school? Your cover stories suck.”

Jared didn’t answer. He wouldn’t need a cover story anyway. It was just going to be a short meeting, nothing... intimate. Just to make sure Jensen knew what he was going up against if he decided to fight Welling’s claims. And even if they had met one night a billion years ago there was no way Jensen would recognize him. It had been dark and he’d been a different person back then. Completely different.

He stared at himself in the mirror in the elevator on the way down and saw very little trace of the boy he’d been that night. He was taller, bigger, stronger in every way. His gaunt face had been replaced by strong jaws and high cheekbones, and his eyes had mostly lost the wary look they used to hold. Underneath the expensive clothes he packed muscles and strength that the boy had only dreamed of back then, trapped in the awkward gangly body of an undernourished teenager. He stood up straighter, moved with more confidence, talked in evidence of his education. Hell, his mother wouldn’t even recognise him if she were still alive so why would Jensen?

The flight was unremarkable. He spent most of it going over his files, planning potential strategies and trying not to think of Jensen. Which wasn’t easy considering his last name kept popping up everywhere on the papers in front of him.

He’d caught a glimpse of Jensen once, at the opening night to one of his musicals. He’d stood in the shadows, watching Jensen smile and nod and blush under the words of praise he was receiving, a bouquet of flowers resting awkwardly in his arms. The urge to go forward and talk to him had been so strong that Jared had hastily slipped away. He’d stayed away from opening nights ever since.

His obsession with Jensen’s musicals had started completely by accident. He’d been in New York for a job interview, taking a walk down Broadway in an attempt to calm his nerves the night before, when a poster for a new musical, Marc’s Holiday, had caught his eye, the name Jensen Ackles displayed on top hitting him like a punch to the chest.

It was being shown in a small theatre known for its experimental plays and support for young and aspiring writers and Jared had slipped in just as they were about to close the doors. He’d sat mesmerized for two hours, thinking ‘Jensen wrote this, these are his words, his songs.’ Remembering Jensen’s shy smile when he talked about his dreams for the future, clearly not believing he would ever follow them. But he had. Sure it wasn’t the big Broadway stages, not yet, but he’d get there, Jared was sure of that.

He’d found himself following the entertainment news religiously after that and when a new musical by Jensen Ackles was announced in a small advert on one of the back pages he’d bought a ticket and driven down to see it. And the one after that and the one after that until he had a collection of programs with Jensen’s name on the front. He’d never told Chad about those trips, never told anyone really, but he thought maybe both Steve and Chris knew. They hadn’t mentioned it but more than once when he’d come over for dinner he’d found the paper with the theatre section turned up, Jensen’s name in small but clear letters screaming up at him.

Jared stopped by the hotel, changing out of his clothes that stank of plane fuel and the strong perfume of the woman that had sat next to him. He’d spent a ridiculous amount of time planning what to pack and still now when he looked at his selection none of it seemed adequate. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he wanted to dazzle Jensen with a fashionable first impression or if he was afraid even the hint of a bad choice might remind Jensen of a boy in baggy and ratty clothes. Most of all he wished he could just put on some jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie and his favorite flip-flops.

With a sigh he chose a pink striped shirt and a grey suit that looked more expensive than it actually was. The light grey tie and the shiny black shoes completed the outfit. He looked like a lawyer, the kind that was honest and sympathetic but still tough where it counted. That’s what the girl in the shop had told him anyway. Jared thought he looked more like a pompous frat boy but whatever. Even after years of law school and internships and now finally being his own man he still felt weird in a monkey suit.

He took a deep breath and smiled confidently at himself in the mirror before grabbing his briefcase and walking out. It was going to be fine. Just a business meeting between two strangers, that was all.

Never mind that they’d been talking on the phone almost every night the last week - mostly about things that had very little to do with the case - and that every time Jared had to hang up he’d wanted to redial, just to be able to listen to Jensen’s voice for a little while longer.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Angelo was being an ass. That was Jensen’s excuse. The guy was supposed to be big and strong and heroic but every time he opened his mouth to sing, what came out were lyrics that sounded like they’d been written by a twelve-year-old anime addict. Jensen groaned, pulling off his glasses to rub at his eyes before putting them on again, determined to somehow turn his six feet five High School Musical wannabe into a proper manly gay stripper. Just as he was about to delete the last page of crap he glanced at the timer at the corner of the laptop and froze.

The clock blinked 12:05. He was supposed to meet Jared five minutes ago. On the other side of town.

Fuck.

He jumped to his feet and grabbed his jacket and keys, hurrying to the door. It wasn’t until he was halfway across town, sitting in the cab he’d desperately hauled down, that he realized he was wearing his ratty RENT t-shirt, the jeans his sister had threatened to set on fire if she ever saw him wearing them again and the sneakers that had once looked trendy but that was before he’d worn them to help Chris and Steve paint their new apartment. They now sported yellow and blue polka dots and even if a more fashionable guy might have pulled it off as the newest look he very much doubted it worked for him.

For a moment he contemplated calling Jared, suggesting they’d meet at his place instead. That would give him time to go back and change, maybe even shower. He was pretty sure he still smelled of last night’s nicotine marathon. (So he smoked when stressed. So what? Shut up.) Even if he’d changed clothes his hair probably reeked of it. Not that he thought Jared would actually sniff his hair...

But Jared had just traveled all the way from Washington DC for this meeting. Asking him to relocate from the restaurant he was undoubtedly already sitting at, getting more and more annoyed the later the time got without Jensen showing up… Well, it didn’t sound like a good idea. And besides, asking the guy home on the first… ok, not date. Meeting. Whatever. It would come of as way too presumptuous. And kinda slutty.

Jensen shifted awkwardly in his seat, willing the cab to go faster. Ok, so Jared’s voice kinda got to him. In an I’d-definitely-hit-that kinda way. He tried to suppress his expectations, thinking of all the old jokes about sex operators actually being sixty-year-old obese grandmas with hairy armpits. A voice could be misconceiving. Jared was most definitely not a sixty-year-old hairy grandma but everything else was up for grabs. God, he really hoped Jared wasn’t really a fat mustached midget. Especially considering Jensen had been flirting like mad with him every single time they talked on the phone. And he thought maybe Jared had been flirting back. Possibly.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t notice they were already there until the cab suddenly pulled up to the curb and stopped. Jensen hastily paid the driver and got out of the cab. Checking his reflection in the restaurant’s shiny window he nervously ran his palms down the front of his t-shirt trying to iron out the worst creases. Not that anything he did could save him from looking like a fashion reject. Taking a deep breath he squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.

It wasn’t until he got in and looked over the numerous occupied tables that he realized that 1) the restaurant obviously had a jacket and tie requirement and 2) it being so early in the day he hadn’t bothered making a reservation, which clearly had been a big mistake. He couldn’t see a single free table. Or one being occupied by what looked like a lawyer named Jared. (On a plus side he didn’t see any obese midgets either. Yet.)

“I’m sorry, sir, but we have a dress code,” a pompous voice said to his right and when he turned around he was met with the kind of stuck up look that would have fitted perfectly on the face of Angelo’s father’s butler. Jensen filed that idea away for later and offered the man a small smile.

“Yeah, I just realized that. I was running late and… Doesn’t matter.” He frowned, rubbing his index finger at the side of his nose as he tried to think up a strategy. “I am supposed to meet someone here. A Jared Padalecki?”

The man raised one eyebrow. “In that case I suggest you come with me, sir.” He turned on his heel and Jensen followed him reluctantly to the cloakroom where he was handed a shirt and a tie. The shirt was yellow and the tie was pink with blue stripes. He stared at them in horror and then back at the waiter who didn’t even blink.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jensen said. “I can’t wear this.”

The lips got even thinner. “Your choice, sir. You wish for me to go tell Mr. Padalecki to meet you outside? If he hasn’t left already.”

Jensen followed his glance to the clock up on the wall. It showed 12:25. Shit.

“Alright. Give it here.” He took off his jacket and put the shirt on over his t-shirt, then hastily fastened the tie as best he could. “Satisfied?”

The waiter’s nose twitched. “Not the word I would use but it will do.”

Jensen resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at the man’s retreating back. This was already the worst date… uhm… meeting he’d ever had and he still hadn’t even met the guy.

He followed the waiter into the restaurant, nervously fiddling with the tie, trying to make it hang straight. Looking up a quarter of a second too late he walked straight into the waiter, hitting his nose on the back of the gelled head and crushing his glasses against his own forehead.

“Motherfucking ow!”

The man turned around and glared at him. “Your date, sir,” he said coldly then turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Jensen clutching his nose and blinking tears out of his blurry eyes.

“You okay?”

Jensen stilled. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. He fumbled for his glasses that still hung from one ear and tried to put them back on but they were awkwardly bent and he found himself looking through skewed and smudgy lenses at the blurry image of two catlike hazel eyes, watching him with concern.

“Jared?” he asked, slightly nasal since he was still pinching his nose in hope that it wasn’t bleeding.

The eyes turned even more slanted and now Jensen took in a wide smile, a rather big nose and brown hair slicked back above a high forehead. For a moment the smile reminded him of someone else and he lowered the glasses as his own smile faltered slightly, the sting in his heart just as sharp now as seven years ago.

“That would be me,” Jared said and stuck out his hand in greeting. Jensen hesitated for a moment before deciding to give up on the glasses. He shoved them into the pocket of his jacket and took Jared’s outstretched hand, shaking it.

“Hi, uhm… Jensen. Jensen Ackles,” he said. His cheeks burned but at least his nose had stopped hurting and when he slowly let go of it everything stayed dry and blood free. Thank god for small favors. “This was not how I imagined this meeting going,” he added, in case Jared thought he was always such a klutz.

Jared laughed, low and rumbling. “Well, let’s just say the show was worth the wait.”

Jensen blushed even further. “Fuck, I’m so sorry about that. I was writing and…” He waved his hand lamely, trying to convey the whole fucking disaster in one awkward gesture.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared pulled a stool from the bar where he’d been sitting. “Sit down. Breathe. Have a drink of water.”

Jensen sat down grateful and reached blindly for the glass, only to knock it over and within seconds his jeans were soaked through. He jumped up, knocking over the chair and almost falling over in the process. “Shit!”

“This is not your day, is it?” Jared laughed. “Here let me.”

Jensen could only stand there mortified as Jared patted him down with a handkerchief, trying to soak up some of the wetness from his jeans. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I can’t see anything without my glasses.” He smiled embarrassed at the blur that was Jared.

Jared chuckled, then pulled Jensen aside as a waitress came running over to sweep up the shards of glass on the floor. “Maybe they’re fixable. Let me have a look at them.”

Jensen fished the glasses out of his pocket and handed them over. Jared hummed under his breath before shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re screwed. They’re pretty out of shape. Think if I try straightening them they might just break,” he said.

Jensen sighed and ran a hand through his hair then grimaced as he could feel it sticking up. He probably looked like a crazy person, with wild hair, squinting eyes and wearing the ugliest shirt in the world.

“I have a spare pair at home,” he said as he accepted the glasses back and put them in his pocket. “If I‘m going to be any good I need to go get them. I’m so sorry. Seriously, you’ve come all this way, I feel like a total idiot letting you wait for me. Again. I’ll pay for everything. Have a drink and I’ll try and get back as fast as I can.”

Jared laughed. “Dude, stop. I’ll come with you. I mean, have you seen the menu?” He leaned over lowering his voice. “I’d rather not eat food I can’t pronounce.”

Jensen quirked one eyebrow at him. “Did you miss the part about me being blind as a bat? I haven’t even seen you yet.”

“See? There’s a bright side to anything if you just look for it,” Jared said cheerfully, then paused. “Uhm, not that I’m trying to make blind jokes or anything.”

Jensen couldn’t help laughing. “Relax, I’m not the PC police. You don’t mind? There’s a nice coffeehouse close to my apartment that we could go to instead. They do great waffles.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way!” Jared stopped again. “Uhm… I mean, need a hand?”

“I think I can manage,” Jensen said and turned around, promptly tripping over a woman’s purse. Jared caught him at the last minute and for a second they just stood there breathing before Jared started chuckling.

“How about I guide you until we get to more open space? Plenty of people and purses to trip over here.”

“So not how I pictured this happening,” Jensen muttered but let Jared escort him to the reception area. “Oh wait,” he said as they were about to head out. He slipped off his jacket and handed it to Jared, then tugged off the tie and quickly unbuttoned the shirt.

“Your coffeehouse is a strip club?” Jared asked amused.

Jensen laughed but he could feel his face go hot. “I didn’t know there was a dress code. That prissy waiter made me wear this.” He stood with the shirt and tie in his hand, unsure where to put them. “Do you see the jerk anywhere?”

“I’ll take that,” a familiar pompous voice said right by his ear, making him jump. The clothes were snagged out of his hand with a cold, “Have a good day, sir,” and then the door was opened, showing them out.

“That sounded sincere,” Jared joked as they stood on the sidewalk, a little awkward. “You must be his favorite customer.”

Jensen snorted. “I am now. Can you haul a cab?” He put his jacket on as Jared stepped to the side of the curb, waving one down. After telling the driver his address Jensen leaned back in his seat, sighing. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I’m not usually this disorganized. Or badly dressed.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared shifted by his side. Even if Jensen couldn’t really see him too clearly he saw enough to know Jared was definitely not a fat midget. In fact he was even taller than Jensen himself and if the grip of his handshake was anything to go by he had the body to go with it. “And I like your clothes. They suit you.”

Jensen really wished he could see if Jared was making fun of him. “Well, they’re comfy,” he said awkwardly. “I was writing so… Uhm, I already told you that.”

Jared turned to look at him. “Is this the gay stripper Moulin Rogue musical you told me about?”

Jensen nodded, feeling even more awkward. Talking about gay strippers over the phone was a little different than doing it in person. Especially when you couldn’t see if the guy you were talking to was interested in the stripper or the gay part. All the times they’d talked on the phone it had felt like they were flirting but now, with Jared by his side, Jensen wasn’t sure anymore. His gaydar wasn’t pinging but then again he couldn’t really see anything so…

The cab came to a halt and he blindly pulled out some bills but Jared put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “I’ve got it,” he said and when Jensen tried to protest he added patiently, “You can pay for lunch. Be warned, I eat a lot.”

“I can imagine,” Jensen said with a laugh.

Once they were inside the elevator he started to relax. He hated being outside without his glasses or contacts. It felt like walking through a thick fog where all he could see where blurs of colors and indistinct shapes. As they got into the apartment he told Jared to make himself at home in the living room while he changed his still damp clothes and put in his contacts.

He didn’t realize his mistake until he got back - now wearing dry and not quite as ratty jeans and a black shirt that was more or less wrinkle free - and saw Jared standing by the bookshelves. Probably since the only spot on the couch that wasn’t covered in sheet music and printouts was occupied by Jensen’s guitar. His pj pants were still draped over the easy chair where he’d left them this morning, his coffee mug stood on the sofa table amidst rings of spilled coffee and there was half a slice of toast with honey resting on a plate on the floor. In short, his apartment was more of a mess than he’d been.

Jensen stood for a moment, wondering what excuse he could come up with for being such a slob and finding none. He was a guy, that was the reason he usually gave Mac when she bitched about his lack of housekeeping. Looking at Jared he realized that wouldn’t really fly, considering that guy looked like he just stepped out of GQ’s fashion spread. He had his back turned but that only meant Jensen could better appreciate the perfectly tailored suit on those broad shoulders and the way the pants hugged a nicely shaped ass.

Jensen looked down at his own clothes, swallowed, and was about to turn back to try and find something a little more grown up and a little less college to wear when he saw that Jared was holding a picture frame in his hand, studying it with a forlorn look on his face. It was a picture of Jensen and Mac, taken a couple of years after he left home and after his sister had finally returned from the bitchiness of Teenland. Well, mostly. Anyway, they were actually smiling for once. Her arm was looped around Jensen’s neck and she was pretending to bite his cheek.

“That’s Mac, my sister,” Jensen said, to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

Jared jumped slightly and put the picture hastily away before turning around. Jensen blinked. Oh wow.

“I can see you,” he said stupidly, staring mesmerized at what had to be one of the most attractive men he’d ever met. Tall and muscular with a strong handsome face and hazel eyes that were now watching him startled, almost scared. Jensen felt his face go red. Shit. Way to be subtle, he told himself. Why don’t you just whip it out and start singing We Are Family?

“I mean… uhm…” he stammered. “I put my contacts in.”

Jared nodded, still looking wary as if he was waiting for Jensen to do something bad. Like hit on him. Jensen swallowed down his disappointment. Right. Not interested then. He didn’t really know how to adjust to that. He’d been so sure…

He finally stepped forward, sticking out his hand. “How about we start over? Hi, I’m Jensen Ackles.”

Jared hesitated then visibly relaxed and took his hand, long fingers clutching it tight. “Jared Padalecki. Nice to meet you.” He smiled and something clenched in Jensen’s chest. Damn, he would have loved to kiss that mouth.

“Right,” he said briskly and stepped back. “Shall we?” He paused. “Or maybe you want to talk first and eat later?” His stomach chose that exact moment to rumble loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything, except a bite of the aforementioned toast, since sometime early last night.

“I’d say we eat first,” Jared said with a small smile, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

Jensen bit his lip to keep from smiling back since it was sure to give his feelings away. “C’mon, it’s just around the corner.” He grabbed a jacket and his keys and they let themselves out of the apartment.

“I like your place,” Jared said conversationally as they waited for the elevator. “Feels creative.”

Jensen snorted. “You mean it’s messy. It’s okay, you can say it.” The elevator pinged open and they stepped inside. “My sister says I’m a disgrace to my kind,” Jensen continued. “According to her being gay should automatically mean you’re a neat freak.” There was no answer and when he looked up he found Jared watching him, a strange expression on his face. “What?”

Jared seemed to hesitate but then he shook his head, shifting slightly away. “Nothing,” he said, lips pinched thin.

Jensen clenched his jaw. Ok, so he’d really read the guy wrong. “Right.” He turned away, trying to let it go but he just couldn’t keep quiet. “You know, it’s not actually contagious, no matter what your mom says,” he said sarcastically, still staring at the door.

Jared looked at him startled. “What? No, I didn’t…” He stopped, his cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Jensen said coolly, stepping out of the elevator as it opened.

“No, wait. Jensen…” Jared grabbed his arm, turning him around. “Dude, seriously, I did not mean it like that. I’m not…” He laughed a little, face flushed. “I’m not homophobic, man.”

Jensen sighed. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re a nice guy…”

“I was the leader for our GLBT campus group for two years,” Jared said patiently and Jensen’s mouth snapped shut. “So I’m not likely to judge you for being gay.”

“Oh.” Jensen blinked. “I’m sorry, you just seemed…” He laughed, feeling embarrassed. “Uncomfortable? I don’t know.”

Jared nodded, a concerned frown between his eyebrows. “I wasn’t. Not about that. It’s…” He paused. “I thought you were bi? I mean, you’ve dated women, right?”

Jensen frowned, confused. “Uhm… not for years. How do you…?” He stopped then smiled warily. “So when you said you were a fan, you meant the stalkery, binocular wearing, panty sniffing kind?”

Jared’s eyes widened. “What? No! I just… There was… I wasn’t…” His face flushed deep red and Jensen would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling so guarded. “I read up on your family. For the case I mean. There was a blurb about you being engaged to marry into the Krupka family.”

“Oh.” Jensen laughed. “I just keep jumping to rude conclusions, don’t I? Sorry. For the record,” he added, “we were never engaged. You should check your sources.”

Jared smiled. “I never said I believed it.”

Jensen glanced at him surprised but when Jared didn’t offer anything else he shrugged and kept on walking toward the coffeehouse, Jared falling easily into step beside him.

Ok, so maybe Jared was… Jensen stopped himself. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up for ‘interested’ again. But at least he now knew he hadn’t been wrong about Jared leaning at least a little bit to the queer side. So the big question was, why had he reacted like that to what Jensen couldn’t even classify as a come on? It had been more of an I’m-staring-stupidly-at-you-because-you’re-scorching-hot thing which he was sure Jared got all the time and unless something really drastic had happened since the last time Jensen looked in the mirror he wasn’t that repulsive.

“So,” he said casually. “Leader, huh? Which letter?”

Jared faltered in his steps. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I assume it wasn’t L, unless you’re hiding some very flat boobs under that suit. And don’t get me wrong but you don’t really look like a T so…”

“Oh that.” Jared chuckled. “G. Definitely G.”

Jensen nodded. “Hmm. Active and all?”

“What?”

“Out. Dating. You know, embracing the capital with your gayness.” Jensen waved his hand for emphasis, hoping he didn’t look as stupid as he felt.

“Are you asking if I’m on the market?” Jared asked, clearly trying to contain his laughter.

“No! Jeez. How lame do you think I am?” Jensen huffed, his face hot. He rolled his eyes when Jared just smiled at him. “Ok, are you?”

The smile brightened. “I’m single. And you?”

“Right now?” Jensen asked, arching one eyebrow. “Or do you mean in general? Because…yeah. Pretty much.”

“In general?” Jared laughed. “What, you don’t date?”

“Not really, no.” Jensen shrugged. “I mean, I’d love to it’s just… Composing isn’t really a team sport. It’s hard to meet people when you’re stuck in your apartment all day.”

“Huh,” Jared said thoughtful. “I thought Broadway was like the Mecca of homosexuality. All gay all the time.”

“Oh God, you’re a fan of The Producers?” Jensen groaned. “I swear, that movie is about as historically accurate as every Disney movie ever made.”

“Uhm… it’s bad?” Jared asked, seeming confused.

“Are you kidding me? It’s fucking fantastic. I’ve seen it fifteen times.” Jensen sighed dramatically. “I’d so bone that blond Nazi.”

Jared threw back his head and laughed. Jensen beamed. Maybe he had a chance after all.

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