Oh, Brother, My Brother
Last weekend was JIBCON 2014, and both boys were in attendance and in (very) fine form. They spoke candidly about Sam and Dean's relationship, and they were their usual goofy selves. There were so many good comments about the boys (both J2 and Sam and Dean) that a lot of people now DEMAND fic! deirdre_c and I were discussing it on Twitter and zubeneschamali said "If only
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There were a couple of memories that felt just a little off. Probably Jared's meds blurring his wants with his reality, so that Jensen never did rest his cheek on top of Jared's hair and murmur, "Me too, Jay," about whatever Jared had last burbled at him before nearly passing out. And even if he had, there would have been no reason for Jensen to go rigid when Jared mumbled, "Knew it," in return.
So. Yeah. Jared was a sap with a stupid crush and Jensen probably knew it now, and he was short of sleep and tense about con stuff and that was all.
All. Fuck.
And Jared kept on smiling through the con, taking photo ops with apologies for his flinching, swallowing non-stupid-making painkillers at times, and inside, churning with embarrassment. With Jensen crossing his path, sharing a panel, slumping in the con suite, and never, ever speaking with Jared. Ever. He looked pinched, dark under the eyes, tight around the mouth. Not good.
The thing to do with cons was absolutely not to smile yourself into the ground, give everything that every fan could possibly want, and then sneak out to a not-too-shitty non-airport bar (because, you know, Rome) that the concierge recommended without eating any food on top of your painkillers.
So Jared absolutely did not do any of that. Really.
Fucking concierge, though. Maybe Jared should have specified a discreet bar which hadn't already been recommended to some of his colleagues. Or, one of them.
Jensen was at the bar. He had two empty shot glasses by his left hand, and a beer bottle in his right. So, not exactly having a relaxed drink in private. Ugh.
Jared considered just walking veeeery quietly back out of the bar. He'd passed two or three on his way to this one, just before the cab dropped him here. He could totally sit at different bar, back morosely to the room, shots lined up, beer to hand for comfort. That had been his plan for the evening anyway. That, and calling home to tell his mom she'd reared a loser and a coward and a guy who couldn’t even keep his stupid feelings to himself.
Totally a plan.
But there was a mirror behind the bar, and he caught Jensen's eye. Walking backwards out of the bar and vanishing like a phantom into the night was no longer a viable option. Running like a fool, sure. Always an option.
Or.
He looked at mirror-Jensen, and at real-Jensen's spine, and at the drinks lined up on the bar, and at his memories ("Me too, Jay"), and at the way Jensen was miserable but not actually sorry to see him. And he thought.
Thinking got him across from the door to the bar, and to a beer and three shots (one for Jensen), and he downed his two and got his mouth around the bottle, and hadn't spoken except to grunt, "Yours," at the gift short. Because thinking.
Fuck it. Either he had already screwed up, or there was an or. And the or was… Worth a try.
"So, I came here to drink to forget," he said. "Because I told my best friend I love him last night, and he ran away and didn't want to speak to me again." He paused. Jensen's mouth opened, and nothing came out.
Beautiful mouth. Always was. Jared watched as Jensen's tongue licked nervously across his lower lip, and then his jaw snapped closed and- Well. It wasn't a bad expression, for sure, but he really needed words here. So Jared added, "You?"
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