Yes Sir (I Don't Mean Maybe) 4/4
Master Post | Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Epilogue | Art & Soundtrack Post
It wasn't until Jensen looked at the stack of yellow Post-Its he used as a planner that he realized they might have a problem. Unless, you know, he could somehow figure out how to bend the time-space continuum so that Jared's meeting with Vin Diesel's people and Jensen's appearance on Ellen suddenly happened at different times, but that didn't sound very likely.
They both agreed Jared's meeting won out on importance, so Jensen said he'd take the doll with him, and figure out how to handle the actual interview part somehow. He had this horrible image of himself on national TV, dropping the thing or setting off its infernal wail and having it feedback through the studio speakers, or worse, forgetting it was fake, somehow, and talking to it.
His worries turned out not to matter, though. Jared had left to meet with his agent earlier in the day, so Jensen was alone when he walked out the door and almost smack into Mark, who had just been lifting the lid off their mailbox. He let it snap down, startled. It pinched his finger and he yelped and sucked the tip of it into his mouth, talking around it.
“Not what it looks like,” he said. “I'm just, uh, poking around. Not going through your mail. Or anything. Because that would be a felony, and felonies are really, really bad. And usually lead to jail time.” His eyes grew wide and pleading. “I'm too pretty for jail, Jensen.”
Jensen sort of agreed, at least with that last statement. He could see Mark's sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes making him very popular with a certain jail house demographic, at least if the stylized prison porn Jared had brought home that one time was in any way accurate.
“Fine,” he said, vaguely dismissing the whole mail fraud matter with a flap of his hand. “Hey, what are you doing right now?”
“I'm, uh...” Mark said, shifty-eyed.
“Right,” Jensen said. Dumb question. But still. “You want to leave the camera here and make a quick buck?”
Which is how the tabloid reporter who broke the story of Jensen's arrest and made their relationship public ended up in the Ellen green room watching a rubber baby while Jensen was pitted against various audience members in an impromptu Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament. Nothing was ever cut and dry on Ellen.
Afterwards, when he told Jared about his babysitting arrangement with Mark, they had a laugh about it. Jared's meeting had gone extremely well, and there was another one scheduled for later that week, during which he would actually meet Vin. He was trying not to show too much excitement, but Jensen knew he had to be just humming with anticipation inside, and did his best to tease him mercilessly by making up twisted Vin Diesel facts every chance he could.
As it turned out, Jared was right to be jazzed - the second lunch meeting turned into a contract negotiation and stretched on by several hours, during which he texted Jensen three separate messages consisting of nothing but punctuation.
Meanwhile, Jensen had a meeting with his own agent to get to, not to mention a radio interview later on. It just made sense to give Mark a call.
...
As it turned out, Vin Diesel was quite the party animal. Either that, or he really had constructed an elaborate plot to win Jared away from Jensen using constant social engagements and copious amounts of alcohol. Yeah, all right, it sounded nuts, but after the eighth time in two weeks that Jared came to him with an apologetic twist to his mouth and said that apparently he had to be there, it was his only chance to meet so-and-so from the studio and make a good impression, Jensen thought maybe he had a pretty good case.
“Don't turn your back on your drink,” he said, and only meant it half-jokingly. Then he gritted his teeth and smiled. He knew how much this meant to Jared.
...
Jensen spoke to Vin once. Jared's cell rang, some bland pop melody Jensen recognized as his default unassigned ring tone. He felt a jolt of triumph when the display read “Vin” and he realized Jared hadn't given any thought yet to assigning the guy a personalized tune. It was something Jared did almost compulsively, and Jensen had been dreading the sound of I'm Too Sexy or U Can't Touch This. Maybe even 2 Legit 2 Quit.
“Can you get that?” Jared called from the bathroom. The fan was on. He was going to be in there a while.
Jensen considered his options, thought about tiptoeing out of the room and down the hall, letting himself into the yard, maybe picking up the rake that had been sitting out there for a couple of weeks, getting some yard work done.
The phone rang again. In the next room, Chuck-ette piped up, looking for her mid-afternoon snack. Jensen answered the phone, heading over to her.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, uh. I'm looking for Jared?”
“He's unavailable right now. I'll tell him you called, though. Vin, isn't it?”
The room went suddenly quiet as Jensen soothed the crying robot baby. His sarcastic tone echoed inside his head, and he hoped it hadn't carried all the way back to Jared, or he was going to be in trouble.
“That's right. You the boyfriend? Jensen?”
“Husband,” Jensen corrected, trying to pull his voice back down to neutral territory even though his annoyance level was steadily climbing.
“Right. Listen, I'll take good care of your boy.”
That's what I'm afraid of, Jensen thought. He was pretty sure he was still joking about Vin stealing his man. He picked up the kid - something to do.
“Thanks,” he said. “I'll get Jared to call you back.”
“No hurry,” Vin said. “It's cool.”
Jared returned the call the second he got the message, and Jensen bit his lip and tried not
to wish he'd run away from the ringing phone.
...
For his part, Jensen ended up canceling a couple of promo gigs that he just couldn't work the kid around, and getting creative with the rest. He even brought it on a local morning show and did his best to explain its presence in their lives without sounding like a lunatic. Yes, it was silly, and yes, it was elaborate, but it was also necessary, and challenging, and (he was surprised to hear the word come out of his mouth) fun.
The fun factor, however, did not erase the fact that Jared showed up forty-five minutes late to their second-to-last progress meeting. Meaning, half an hour after it ended. Jensen waited for him in the room, pondering the parental aptitudes of their classmates (Sarah had made an elaborate knit hemp cap for her doll, which she showed off and then tried to sell; George and Misty both looked near tears, spirits broken, shoulders slumped, but hey, at least their kid was still ticking). If anything, these meetings were getting more ridiculous as time went on. Jensen wasn't a bit angry. At least, not until Jared came into view, carrying two dome-lidded coffee cups and grinning like it was no big deal he'd missed the meeting.
“You went to the drive-thru,” Jensen said, taking the cup from him and just looking at it.
“Yeah,” Jared said, and picked up the doll's car seat, heading for the door.
Jensen didn't move. “You went to the drive-thru,” he repeated.
“Well, I was already late getting dropped off,” Jared said with a shrug. “I figured a peace offering wouldn't hurt.”
Jensen put the coffee down. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said no to coffee, which should have been a clue that he was far more annoyed than he was letting on, even to himself.
“Yeah, well, you figured wrong,” he said.
“Oh,” Jared said, staring at the abandoned coffee cup like he'd just learned it contained a portal to an alternate universe. He sighed. “Can we go home now?”
Jensen sighed and followed him out to the car.
...
They didn't talk about it, and the next couple of days were pretty relaxed. They fell back into a good rhythm, and Jensen's publicity crap died down again, thank God. Jared got really into his action hero mindset and started playing this game where he'd line various small objects up on the coffee table and then have the doll kick them off, complete with sound effects. It was pretty entertaining.
Then on the third day, a call came through on Jared's cell. It was late - they'd already fed the doll and put it to bed - and he snatched the phone up really quickly and got to his feet like he was anticipating needing privacy.
“Oh, hey, man... Not much, but... Well, yeah, I guess I could.” He stood in the kitchen doorway, hand pressed against his other ear. “Are you there now?... No, it's just really loud... You sure we couldn't just... No, I get it. It's cool. I'll be there.” He laughed suddenly, and it felt like someone was actually punching Jensen in the stomach. Or karate kicking him. “Yeah, yeah.”
When Jared hung up and turned back to Jensen, he just said, “Go,” and waved him away.
He was still up when Jared got home that night - quite a feat considering how damn late it was.
“Have fun?” he said, flicking blindly through the satellite music channels at the top end of the channel list.
Jared shrugged and sat next to him, and Jensen turned off the TV.
“We can't do this,” he said.
“What? Yes, we can,” Jared said, eyes doing a panicked little back-and-forth dance, like he was trying to retrace the steps of a conversation that hadn't happened yet.
“We can't do this,” Jensen said, gesturing around them like it would clarify anything. “What if there's always going to be some once-in-a-lifetime opportunity around the corner that we have to shove everything aside for?”
“We're not shoving everything aside,” Jared said, defensive. “We're making it work. It's working. The thing's still alive, isn't it?”
“Oh yeah, because that kind of criteria works great on real kids.”
Jared sighed. “Well. I don't know what you want me to do. I thought you were happy for me.”
“I was. I am.”
“I can't just back out. I don't want to back out.”
“I don't want you to,” Jensen said quickly, thinking how much Jared would hate him if he made him give up the chance to work with Vin Diesel for two months. “I just think maybe if we can't focus on this right now... maybe it's not the best time.”
Jared swallowed. He looked upset. Wounded, even.
“Did you talk about this with Mark?” he said.
“What?” Jensen was genuinely confused.
“You guys have been palling around a lot. Does he think it's not the best time?”
“I... don't know,” Jensen said. Maybe he had brought it up. Indoors. Camera safely off and Mark's colleagues far out of earshot.
“You don't think it's weird to be hanging out with that guy?”
“He's a nice guy,” Jensen said, shrugging. It was pretty weird. He'd be the first to admit it.
“He's in love with you,” Jared said.
“What?”
“He's in love with you. Shit at hiding it, too, or maybe I'm just way too familiar with the signs.” Jared looked resigned, almost bitter.
“But. He's a kid,” Jensen said, his brain trying to catch up to what Jared was saying. “I thought you liked him. I only tolerated him because I thought you liked him.”
“I was being polite,” Jared said with renewed energy and much frustration. “To a guy with a camera who could very well fuck up our whole lives if he wanted to. He could fuck this kid thing up in a second, and now he's manipulating you.”
“He's not manipulating me,” Jensen said, furious. He got to his feet, figured there'd be some pretty serious storming out happening soon and he'd prefer the stormer to be him. “If you would just get your tongue out of Vin Diesel's ass for one goddamn second, you'd know that.”
Jared's eyes widened impressively as he stood to face Jensen. “You know what?” he shouted. “Fuck you. You won't admit that this whole project is bothering you? Fuck you. You don't want me to have this, but you're too chicken shit to say anything because you don't want to think of yourself as anything but Mr. Perfect Virtuous Husband Guy. Well, guess what? I already know!”
As it turned out, it was Jared who did the storming out.
“Have fun with Vin!” Jensen yelled, coming out of shock just as the front door swung open.
“Say hi to your paparazzi stalker boyfriend!” Jared yelled back, and then door slammed. There was about half a second of stunned silence, and then the doll went berserk.
...
Looking back, they'd had an unusually smooth relationship so far. It was only natural they'd hit a land mine now. Or a full-blown nuke. Whatever. They weren't used to fighting, and that meant neither of them had any idea how bad this really was. There was a tiny, hysterical part of Jensen that thought maybe they'd never fix it. That he and Jared had blown it, hit their expiration date, and that they'd have to painfully avoid each other for their rest of their lives.
Hey, Jensen was an actor. It paid to be dramatic.
He made it almost two whole days before calling Chad.
“Hey, Mindy. Looking for Mork?”
Jensen sighed, felt the constant headache flare behind his eyes. “You don't have to give him the phone, alright? Just tell me if he's there.”
“I don't know what the hell happened between you two,” Chad said. He didn't sound as nasty as Jensen had expected. He sounded, if anything, a bit cautious. “Yeah, he's here, and he's drinking all my beer, the bastard.” He paused. “Huh. I'm a poet and I didn't know it.”
“Yeah, you're full of hidden talents,” Jensen said, rolling his eyes. “Can you just remind him our last meeting's on Monday at ten thirty? I need him to sign off on some forms beforehand if he's not going to be there.”
“Forms, huh?” Chad said, voice dropping, suspicious and sad. He was probably thinking Jensen was lovelorn and lost, and lying to try to fool Jared into seeing him. Jensen found he didn't much care.
“He can come by the house, or we could meet. I dunno. Or I can bring them over, or meet you, or... whatever. I don't care.”
“Oh,” Chad said with what might have been a disappointed huff. “Actual forms.”
“Yeah. Personal liability, and some sort of permission slip for the data retrieval team, I think. Actual forms.”
“Fine,” Chad said. “I'll tell him.”
“Fine.”
The weekend went by in a blur. Jensen sort of switched himself off. He slept in the moments between having to tend to the doll's or dogs' needs, ate a couple of things out of the fridge, not enough to really qualify as a meal, though. Cold hot dogs and cheese slices, mostly.
Jared didn't call, didn't come over. Jensen thought maybe he'd never gotten the message. It was a possibility, even though Chad had been surprisingly human during their chat. But the thought of calling back all needy and doubtful didn't much appeal to him, so he let it go. He'd just get through Monday, and then he'd figure the rest of it out.
He talked to Steve and to Chris, and the latter came over with a bottle of booze, which was probably the thing Jensen least wanted in the world. He had a drink, discussed the usual things. Mostly, he tried not to act like the sad sack he knew he was.
The dogs paced around the bedroom at night, worried, looking for Jared. After the second night, Sadie got used to it, curled up in her dog bed with a sigh when Jensen turned out the light, but Harley never quite got the memo. He kept a constant vigil, claws clicking on the hardwood, barely audible whine perpetually caught in his throat, long after even Jensen had managed to fall asleep.
...
Monday dawned, dim and horrible, dense cloud cover turning everything a sickly yellow-grey. It was fitting, Jensen thought as he slotted the doll's car seat into place and adjusted its straps again. When he looked up, Mark was jogging up the driveway, pointing a remote door-locker behind him in the general direction of a tiny Volkswagen. There was no camera in sight, Mark's or anyone else's, which is what made Jensen wonder if maybe Jared wasn't onto something.
“Thought you might need some help,” Mark said. He did this shy little head-duck thing, and Jensen saw that his dark hair was freshly styled and infused with brand new red chunks that matched the metallic glint of his glasses.
“With this thing?” Jensen said, snapping the seat belt in place. “No, I'm good. Took me a whole damn month to learn how to work the buckle properly.”
He shut the door.
“Jared's not here,” Mark said, and Jensen shook his head, tried not to let anything show. “He hasn't been for a while, has he?”
“How do you know that?” Jensen said, wary of the answer.
“It's my job,” Mark said, without meeting his eyes. “Kind of.”
It was pretty much true, but it didn't make Jensen feel any better. He wondered how much of this the internet actually cared about, and how much was just Mark being obsessive and slightly terrifying.
“I gotta, uh...” Jensen said, and opened the driver's side door.
“Yeah, sorry,” Mark said, and stepped back a few paces. He met Jensen's eyes then, and Jensen saw it, this frantic need for something from Jensen, mixed with a kind of helpless sadness, like he knew he was never going to get it.
“See ya,” Jensen said, starting the engine. Mark just stood there, a shrinking shape in the rear view mirror.
Jensen waited until he was three streets away before muttering, “Son of a bitch,” under his breath and whacking the steering wheel so hard it vibrated up to his shoulder.
“Your dad was right,” he told the doll, glancing quickly over his shoulder. “I hope he's fuckin' happy.”
...
There was a home printed “Congratulations” banner hung across the doorway when Jensen walked in. He didn't even think they made dot matrix paper anymore. In fact, he was willing to bet no one under age 20 had ever even heard of dot matrix paper, which made it kind of creepy. He finally pulled his attention away from the anachronistic banner and walked in, then immediately froze.
Jared was there, leaned up against a wall, hands pinned nervously behind his back, watching the door. Watching for him. Jensen tried not to change his gait as he crossed the room.
“What are you doing here?”
“I'm...” Jared said, looking uncomfortable. He straightened, folded his arms across his chest, jaw set. “Do you want me to go? I'll go. I just thought...”
“No,” Jensen said. “Stay.” He put Chuck-ette's car seat down on the ground and crossed his own arms, unconsciously mimicking Jared's stance.
“So. What now?” Jared said. They stood there, blinking at each other.
“Sit?” Jensen said, at a loss for any actual words.
So they grabbed a mat and set it up at the far end of the room. Jensen set the car seat between the two of them, like he was trying to keep Jared at bay. Which was ridiculous. It felt ridiculous, and wrong, but he still did it.
“How's Harley?” Jared said, not really looking at him.
“He's good,” Jensen said. “He's taking his heart pills. He misses you.”
“Good,” Jared said, then backpedaled, flustered. “Not that he misses me, that sucks. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
They got quiet, both diverting their attention to the empty doorway like if they looked at it long and hard enough, someone would come in and rescue them from each other. It didn't happen.
“How's Chad?” Jensen finally asked, feeling useless.
“I quit the movie,” Jared said, still not looking at him.
“What?”
“I quit the Vin Diesel movie.”
“You get a better offer or something?” Jensen said. “Bruce Willis come calling?” It was a low blow, and he knew it, but sometimes these things just couldn't be helped. And anyway, he could have said much worse. Jared seemed to understand that.
“Maybe,” he said.
“What's that mean?”
Jared sighed and looked at him, really looked. It was maybe the first time Jensen had ever wanted to hide from Jared - he felt like everything he'd felt in the past few days must be written right there on his face. He felt weak. He didn't hide.
“I had another offer, but I don't know if it's still on the table,” Jared said.
“More money?” Jensen said. “Respectable?”
“No money,” Jared said. He almost smiled. “But totally respectable.”
“What's the part?”
Jared shrugged. “Me.”
“Oh. But. Wait. You just quit?”
“Jen. You were right, okay? We do this, we do it a hundred percent. I get that.”
“Jay-”
“No, listen,” he said, and he looked suddenly either angry or impassioned, eyes alight with emotion. “I take this job, I make this one decision, and I'm gonna have to keep making it, keep justifying it over and over again. I'm gonna have to stand by it with every other choice I make because... well, because I'm stubborn that way, and because I'm gonna want to keep proving to you over and over that it was the right thing for us. And eventually it's just gonna turn into me doing shit I'd really rather not be doing just to prove a point to you, and that sounds like pretty much the last thing I want to do, especially since all of these hypothetical point-proving projects probably involve me being away from you for months at a time, which is bullshit.”
“But-”
“No. Jen. It's decided.”
“But you love Vin Diesel,” Jensen said weakly.
“I love you more,” Jared said, with a little half-smile. How he managed to make it sound heartfelt, even after the horrible setup, was beyond Jensen.
Jensen sighed. “Even when I'm apparently manipulating you to give up on your dreams?”
Jared grinned, his eyes creasing at the corners, a little bit of darkness showing through. “Especially then,” he said. He grabbed the car seat and moved it to his other side. “C'mere.”
Jensen slid his ass closer on the mat, and Jared leaned in off-balance to kiss him, one hand pressing hard on Jensen's thigh to keep himself from falling right in. His mouth was tender, sliding sweetly open against Jensen's, waiting for Jensen to do the same before licking softly inside. Jensen laid his hand against Jared's neck, felt the pulse there, tiny hammering beat speeding up slightly as Jared gasped in a shaky breath, then delved back in, drinking from Jensen's mouth like he needed it to survive, like simple air just wouldn't cut it anymore. A small, breathy moan escaped Jensen's throat, and he let his fingers curl into Jared's hair.
“God,” Jared said, breath coming in warm puffs against Jensen's open mouth. “Missed you.”
Jensen just nodded, then kissed him again, running his tongue along the inside of Jared's lower lip, where he still tasted like toothpaste and a little like that morning's coffee. Jared's hand shifted on his thigh, and then Jensen was lying back and they were making out, Jared's long legs bent around his, his fingers maddeningly soft at Jensen's waist, stroking up under his t-shirt, making him shiver.
“You're doing it,” Jensen muttered between kisses. “Call them back.”
“Can't,” Jared said, breathless. “They already gave it to Dax Sheppard.”
He leaned in to kiss Jensen again, and Jensen balked, jerked his head away.
“New rule. Never mention Dax Sheppard when you're about to kiss me,” he said, and Jared chuckled and kissed his chin instead.
They didn't jump when Chuck-ette started wailing at her usual ear-splitting volume, just reluctantly broke apart, Jared getting to his knees to grab her out of the car seat. Jensen sat up and looked around, reddening when he realized they weren't alone anymore. The ever miserable and oh so much more pregnant Misty stood uncomfortably near the doorway, pointedly watching the ceiling while her husband paced outside, bluetooth headset flashing wildly.
The robot quieted almost instantly when Jared picked it up, like it had missed him and just wanted to be held. It was sort of sweet.
“All right, dump 'em in the box,” Phillip said, dragging in a big cardboard bin. George and Sarah walked in behind him, horrified looks on their faces.
Jared and Jensen exchanged stunned glances. Jared's mouth opened, but nothing came out, and Phillip said, “Come on, they're just machines.”
Misty tossed theirs in first, actually tossed it, and it bounced a little in the bottom of the box. Jared got to his feet, and he and Sarah put the other two dolls in at the same time. Sarah took the hat off of hers. Jensen got a whiff of smoky sweet herb when she sat down nearby.
“All right, you'll receive detailed records and all official paperwork in a few weeks. Good job, guys. Now, we've got another video from Mr. Weber, so I'm just going to dim the lights.”
Jared groaned as he sat back down, and Jensen said, “Think anyone would notice if we snuck out?” but then Jared yanked the mat back a bit and leaned against the wall, pulling Jensen to him.
“Wow! Wasn't that a fun ride?” Dale Weber said from the tiny TV.
They barely heard him. They were otherwise occupied.
...
Their drive home that morning was the weirdest in recent memory (maybe trumped by the time in Vancouver that they'd had to drive home without pants due to a deeply cruel practical joke by the wardrobe department, but time had a way of dulling things). They put the car seat in the trunk so they wouldn't have to look at it, but the little clip things were still fastened to the seat belt, and Jensen's eyes kept wandering there, even after he adjusted the side view mirror.
When they got home, the dogs flipped out at the sight of Jared, and everything slotted back into normalcy as much as it could.
They weren't lonely, not exactly. But the hours seemed longer and harder to fill. They didn't see Mark around anymore, although a couple of new videos of them surfaced on the TMZ website, ridiculously mundane ones, filmed from across the street, where Jensen was shown entering the grocery store, or evidence was discovered that Jared took his coffee with one cream and two sugars. Stuff that would have been of no interest whatsoever, except that they were who they were, and the rubber baby thing had definitely gotten them some permanent tabloid attention. Although the intensity died down quite a bit after the Starbucks stalking incident.
Once, while Jared was in line at a gas station, this big black guy with a video camera came up to him.
“Jared, how's the family?” the guy said.
“All right,” Jared said. “Who's this for?”
“TMZ,” the guy said.
“Nice,” Jared said. “Good to meet you.”
He really meant it, too.
...
Dana called and said she had news, and wanted to meet with them. Not good news, or bad news, just “news”, which drove Jared crazy for the day and a half before they sat down to coffee with her.
“There's been some interest,” she said when they finally met.
“Interest?” Jensen repeated, hoping he was grasping her meaning but fearing she meant that she'd been approached about writing her memoirs or something equally left-field.
“I submitted applications on your behalf to the three agencies that Richard recommended we start with, like we talked about. And I just heard back from one of them. They want to schedule an interview.”
“You're kidding,” Jared said. He was grinning like a lunatic, and Jensen probably looked just as crazy.
“I'm not,” Dana said, with that stern confused lawyer look, like she took everything everyone said completely literally. “Is tomorrow between two and three okay? I said you'd call back to reschedule if it wasn't.”
“Tomorrow between two and three is amazing,” Jensen said.
“It's just an interview,” she said, glancing sternly at each of them in turn. “Don't get your hopes up too high, alright?”
They just sat there grinning at each other.
The rest of the day dragged by in a superstitious haze. They didn't tell anyone, didn't talk about it, but it was at the forefront of everything they did. Jensen cooked a simple dinner - comfort food, noodles and cheese and no thought to nutrition, and they watched ridiculous game shows on TV, calling out answers, testing their luck.
They had slow, careful sex with the lights out and lay there, bodies quietly vibrating in the still room long after they should have been asleep.
Jensen was reminded of that first night with Jared, drifting off to sleep thinking about childhood promises and charms, all that magic he'd wanted to cast over the two of them, keep this thing between them safe. And here it was, still intact. A little rough, but in some ways better than ever. They didn't need a ritual for that. All they needed was each other.
...
The interview was maybe the hardest thing they'd ever done together. It was like applying for a loan at a bank that only dealt in human souls. Which, if Jensen was honest with himself, was almost exactly what was going on. Still, there were ethics questions and behavioral questions and questions needing specific anecdotal answers that they then had to provide references for, questions about their marriage, and then Jensen got quizzed about his arrest record, and Jared got quizzed about Jensen's arrest record, and they talked as politely as they could about their Little Miracles experience, and there were bank statements and credit checks and that was just the first hour.
By the end of three of those hours, they were both wrecked, shaky, and convinced they'd made a horrible impression.
Which was what made the next day's phone call so surprising - not from the agency, but from Steve, who opened the dialogue with, “What are you, applying to be a fry cook at Denny's or something?”
“What?” Jensen said.
“I just got a very interesting phone call from a guy who said I was listed as a character reference for one Mr. Jensen Ackles? I just assumed you're getting into the food service industry.”
“Seriously?” Jensen said, the feeling going out of his fingers. Oh, this would be the perfect time for a stroke.
“Dead serious. What's going on?”
“What'd you tell them?”
“The truth, bitch. You're an international terrorist, but I love you like a brother. What the hell is going on?”
“I gotta find Jay,” Jensen said, rushing out of the kitchen, where he'd been attempting to fix a broken-off knob with a screw that was just slightly too short. He hung up on Steve sometime during his mad scramble outside. He didn't have to go far - Jared was out on the steps, tossing a ball for Sadie and scratching behind Harley's ears.
They both agreed the reference check was a good sign, but not to get their hopes up, which worked about as well as could be expected, meaning not at all. It was about another week before the agency called and set up another meeting, and Jensen realized that although the interview had been nerve-wracking and horrible and long, this was actually the hardest thing they'd ever done together. Just walking in there, trying not to expect anything, all their hopes laid bare for anyone to see.
There was a girl, seventeen. Didn't want to meet them, asked for closed records. Apparently a difficult situation. But the kid was healthy. The kid was strong.
The kid was theirs.
Master Post | Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Epilogue | Art & Soundtrack Post