.0099 - I Believe in the Power of Guitar, the Hope Held in a Song
Jensen/Jared, Steve Carlson
2,048 words
Title from Stiff Little Fingers
Teaser: Knowing how gentle those hands can be, how light and teasing, how possessive, too, makes Jared wonder why. Why they no longer touch him like this, why they ever stopped...
Art by darklondonsky Thank you!
Jared presses the button for recording and leans his back against the wall of the ADR trailer, watching the familiar, and still quite unusual, scene in front of him through the camera of his iPhone.
He wouldn’t be able to count how many times he had already seen Jensen and Steve play together - at birthday parties, Friday nights, holiday or Sunday get-togethers, but this is something new. This is real.
Finally, after years of hesitating and claiming that he’s not a musician, that he’s lacking both the talent and courage, Jensen had decided to step out of his own shadow and record a song that stands only on his voice. Jared is fairly sure that Jensen regretted his long-contemplated idea the moment he told him, because he knew that Jared would hold him to his word and make him do it even if he happened to suddenly change his mind again and start backing out. There were a couple of such attempts, Jensen was nervous, worried that people would take it differently than it was meant to be, too seriously maybe, but he didn’t want to let Steve down. And, more importantly, he didn’t want to let himself down. He’s always been like that; a player. Jensen loves challenges; he likes to test his own limits and push far beyond them, beyond his comfort zone, giving everything he is and all he has to keep on growing. Doing theater, directing, singing, yachting… anything just to never stop moving.
And so here they are now, recording a single for Steve’s CD of cover songs, and making a little footage that will be a part of the music video. Jared isn’t a director, that is also Jensen’s domain, and he’s definitely not a cameraman, but he doesn’t need to be good at any of that. This is supposed to be as natural and ordinary as possible, simple. Jared definitely can do ordinary.
The place is mostly in shadows, lit up just barely to keep the setting light, almost intimate, and it seems to be working. Jensen was a little jittery before they started, far from giving it up but enough to make his whole body tense, deepen all the mellow wrinkles on his forehead. It was subtle, no one who doesn’t know him as well as Jared or Steve would notice, but the moment he sat down, the very second he had the solid weight of his guitar on his knee and wrapped his long fingers around its slender neck, every hint of discomfort seemed to evaporate. There are no odd vibes now, no weakness, just flawless music and Jensen’s amazing voice. He’s absolutely captivating when he sings, relaxed and sure, confident. It’s like he’s safe there, behind his guitar and music, hidden by the melody and his own singing, just like he’s hiding behind Dean and every other character he plays. His voice is full of emotions, so melancholic it’s almost sad as though he’s lived that song himself, more than once.
It’s times like these, the moment right there, when Jensen gives something of himself, something that means more to him and reaches deeper into his soul than an average listener would notice, that Jared realizes how much he misses him.
Their breakup was strange, never fully articulated or explained, never completely resolved, because they hadn’t really been together. They just had been there, for each other.
When Jared had broken up with Sandy, Jensen was there, all the time. To listen, to talk, to drag Jared out of bed when he didn’t feel like waking up, send him to sleep when Jared would start drooling on Jensen’s shoulder and snoring in his ear. He had helped Jared to clean up the mess that was his life, his house. Forced him to look ahead and stand tall. He had taught him how to bake chocolate muffins with chocolate icing, Jensen’s favorite, to play guitar. Showed him how to press his fingers against the strings to control the sound, but let the music find its own way and rhythm, how to tune it. Getting that one step closer seemed unavoidable. Their first kiss, unexpected and hesitant, happened during one of their guitar lessons, at an awkward angle over Jensen’s guitar, followed by a false tone of a broken string.
Jensen had been there to fill the empty spaces, to ease the loneliness and lessen all regrets, and, eventually, before neither of them knew what was happening, soothe the ache of want. For one season. Jared doesn’t really know what happened then, they only parted for summer holiday, but, for some reason, never resumed in where they had been before. Maybe it was good, for both of them, right for the show. Maybe nothing but a stupid mistake.
It’s weird, still, constantly walking around each other, seeing each other almost every minute of every day, so close and yet so far, both of them probably somewhere else. At nights, Jared can still hear Jensen playing his guitar and singing, all the songs he had taught Jared, and more. So many times Jared almost knocked, wanting to join him or continue where they had left off, but always stopping just behind his closed door and secretly listening.
Shifting the camera from Steve and the strings of his mandolin back to Jensen, Jared realizes once again what a sensory overload Jensen’s singing and playing actually is. It’s hard to perceive everything at once, but even more difficult to focus on one thing only. There are Jensen’s eyes, darkened with emotions and deep, his lips that form each word of the lyrics so easily, giving them meaning and feeling. His voice, smooth and calming, his hands. The way his fingers slide over the strings, carefully like he’s making love to them, just barely touching as though he’s only accidentally brushing over them. Knowing how gentle those hands can be, how light and teasing, how possessive, too, makes Jared wonder why. Why they no longer touch him like this, why they ever stopped. On a little shallower note, Jensen looks really sexy in that denim shirt.
“Where’s Steve?” Jared asks when he sits down on the abandoned chair beside Jensen with two cups of coffee.
Jensen indicates an international sign for a phone call and puts his guitar on the floor gently, leaning it carefully against the near wall. The next moment he makes a greedy reach for one of the coffee cups, like the caffeine addict he actually is. It’s kind of adorable, really.
“Your coffee, sir,” Jared grins, glad that at least some things remain the same.
Jensen curls his fingers around the warm plastic cup firmly and smiles thankfully, “Bless you.”
Watching Jensen sip on his coffee, Jared notices how relaxed he looks now, almost happy. It seems that relief and contentment are literally oozing off his body. “So?”
“So?” Jensen echoes, looking up at Jared over the rim of his coffee with amusement, knowing damn well what Jared’s asking.
“How you feeling? Nervous? Happy? Satisfied?”
“You know, I’m… feeling kinda good, actually.”
“You should be. I’m really proud of you, you know? I know you were worried, but you really don’t have any reason to be. You’re amazing.”
Jared doesn’t know whether it’s the warmth of the coffee, or if Jensen’s truly blushing, but there’s an undeniable tinge of pink coloring his cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Hey, Jen,” Jared starts after a moment, scared that he’s only making another mistake, that maybe he should let sleeping dogs lie, but unable to actually stop himself.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever… think about us?”
Jensen’s eyes widen in surprise and he coughs, choking on a sip of coffee or air only, “Uhm”
“Because I… This is probably weird, and I guess you don’t want to, but I--” Jared pauses to take a breath, unsure how to go on. There’s so much he wants to say, should say, but he seems to be lacking the right words. He puts his cup on his knee and runs his thumb along the lid, trying to concentrate on something else than Jensen’s gaze, so deep and intense, unbelievably distracting. “I don’t know what happened, why we grew apart, but I want you to know that I still like you. And that I still want you. And if… If that year meant something to you, I’m… I’m still here.”
“That was… Jare, that was two years ago,” Jensen notes softly.
“Yeah. I mean, I know, but… is there something like an expiration date for a relationship?” There were Tracey and Danneel, but they both are only history now. Everyone left. And Jensen was alone for long enough to make Jared feel a bit hopeful. But Jensen’s not saying anything now; he’s only looking back at Jared, measuring him. “There is, huh? You’re… somewhere else.”
Jensen stands up with a sigh and scratches on his eyebrow, visibly tensed and nervous. “I wish,” he says, and it sounds nearly like a complaint.
“Doesn’t mean you want to try again,” Jared notes quietly, weakly.
“No, I… I’m not saying that. It’s just… kinda unexpected.”
“I know it is. It’s just--” Jared tilts his head to the side, pointing his chin towards Jensen’s guitar sitting in the corner. “It kinda brought everything back.”
Jensen follows his gaze and he seems to understand, immediately. “She sat in a corner for the whole summer. I couldn’t play. Without you. I got so used to our sessions it just didn’t feel right. I missed you. I… still miss you.”
“Jen.”
Jensen chuckles, but it sounds strained, forced. A little dark. “I really didn’t expect you to bring it up again. Let alone today. Here.”
“Me neither,” Jared admits. “I wasn’t planning on it. If that helps.”
Jensen bites his lip and shakes his head, looking a little lost and completely clueless. Strangely enough, Jensen’s helplessness seems to give more courage to Jared. He pulls himself up to his feet, taking the two, three steps that divide him from Jensen. “Give us another chance,” he says, not quite pleading. “Maybe it’ll work.”
“Maybe.”
“It worked before.”
“Yeah. It did, huh?” There’s something close to a smirk on Jensen’s lips, like he’s also remembering more than the innocent part of their unusual friendship. Everything Jensen does, he does fully, with his whole heart and his body, and when it comes to sex, it’s not any different. Jared’s not ashamed to admit that he really misses their love making, as well as pretty much everything else.
“How about a dinner?” he suggests. “Today.”
“Like… a date?”
“Exactly like a date.”
“Sounds good.” Jensen smiles and it’s that kind of a smile that is only his, not Tom’s or Alec’s or Dean’s, just Jensen’s. It’s very infectious, too, and Jared finds himself grinning in return before he knows it.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Trailing his fingers up the line of buttons on Jensen’s shirt, Jared hooks his index finger behind the top one and tugs, urging Jensen nearer. “You want steak or Chinese?” he asks, barely able to concentrate on forming these words, simple and worn out, but not with Jensen that close, his warmth and fragrance, so familiar and thrilling, filling his senses.
“You,” Jensen replies easily, voice low and innocent, his eyes dark and sparkling with mischief.
Kissing Jensen is simple, comforting. It’s everything Jared remembers and more, better than any memory he had, real. Jensen’s mouth is warm, soft, and his lips feel so good as they slide over Jared’s, slick and bitter, tasting like coffee and mint, like Jensen. When Jared’s teeth graze Jensen’s lower lip, nipping on the full flesh and begging to be let in, Jensen moans, sounding almost startled by that sound himself. His fingers reflexively close around a handful of Jared’s shirt sleeve, keeping him close. It’s too easy to get lost in that feeling, in Jensen’s proximity and everything that seemed to be gone, that, for a moment, Jared actually completely forgets where they are. That is until someone behind him clears his throat loudly, significantly.
Jensen breaks the kiss abruptly, pulling away and ducking his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, we were just--”
Steve doesn’t sound horrified, not even shocked, if anything, he’s clearly amused. “Discussing the settings, I assume?”
2,048 words
Title from Stiff Little Fingers
Teaser: Knowing how gentle those hands can be, how light and teasing, how possessive, too, makes Jared wonder why. Why they no longer touch him like this, why they ever stopped...
Art by darklondonsky Thank you!
Jared presses the button for recording and leans his back against the wall of the ADR trailer, watching the familiar, and still quite unusual, scene in front of him through the camera of his iPhone.
He wouldn’t be able to count how many times he had already seen Jensen and Steve play together - at birthday parties, Friday nights, holiday or Sunday get-togethers, but this is something new. This is real.
Finally, after years of hesitating and claiming that he’s not a musician, that he’s lacking both the talent and courage, Jensen had decided to step out of his own shadow and record a song that stands only on his voice. Jared is fairly sure that Jensen regretted his long-contemplated idea the moment he told him, because he knew that Jared would hold him to his word and make him do it even if he happened to suddenly change his mind again and start backing out. There were a couple of such attempts, Jensen was nervous, worried that people would take it differently than it was meant to be, too seriously maybe, but he didn’t want to let Steve down. And, more importantly, he didn’t want to let himself down. He’s always been like that; a player. Jensen loves challenges; he likes to test his own limits and push far beyond them, beyond his comfort zone, giving everything he is and all he has to keep on growing. Doing theater, directing, singing, yachting… anything just to never stop moving.
And so here they are now, recording a single for Steve’s CD of cover songs, and making a little footage that will be a part of the music video. Jared isn’t a director, that is also Jensen’s domain, and he’s definitely not a cameraman, but he doesn’t need to be good at any of that. This is supposed to be as natural and ordinary as possible, simple. Jared definitely can do ordinary.
The place is mostly in shadows, lit up just barely to keep the setting light, almost intimate, and it seems to be working. Jensen was a little jittery before they started, far from giving it up but enough to make his whole body tense, deepen all the mellow wrinkles on his forehead. It was subtle, no one who doesn’t know him as well as Jared or Steve would notice, but the moment he sat down, the very second he had the solid weight of his guitar on his knee and wrapped his long fingers around its slender neck, every hint of discomfort seemed to evaporate. There are no odd vibes now, no weakness, just flawless music and Jensen’s amazing voice. He’s absolutely captivating when he sings, relaxed and sure, confident. It’s like he’s safe there, behind his guitar and music, hidden by the melody and his own singing, just like he’s hiding behind Dean and every other character he plays. His voice is full of emotions, so melancholic it’s almost sad as though he’s lived that song himself, more than once.
It’s times like these, the moment right there, when Jensen gives something of himself, something that means more to him and reaches deeper into his soul than an average listener would notice, that Jared realizes how much he misses him.
Their breakup was strange, never fully articulated or explained, never completely resolved, because they hadn’t really been together. They just had been there, for each other.
When Jared had broken up with Sandy, Jensen was there, all the time. To listen, to talk, to drag Jared out of bed when he didn’t feel like waking up, send him to sleep when Jared would start drooling on Jensen’s shoulder and snoring in his ear. He had helped Jared to clean up the mess that was his life, his house. Forced him to look ahead and stand tall. He had taught him how to bake chocolate muffins with chocolate icing, Jensen’s favorite, to play guitar. Showed him how to press his fingers against the strings to control the sound, but let the music find its own way and rhythm, how to tune it. Getting that one step closer seemed unavoidable. Their first kiss, unexpected and hesitant, happened during one of their guitar lessons, at an awkward angle over Jensen’s guitar, followed by a false tone of a broken string.
Jensen had been there to fill the empty spaces, to ease the loneliness and lessen all regrets, and, eventually, before neither of them knew what was happening, soothe the ache of want. For one season. Jared doesn’t really know what happened then, they only parted for summer holiday, but, for some reason, never resumed in where they had been before. Maybe it was good, for both of them, right for the show. Maybe nothing but a stupid mistake.
It’s weird, still, constantly walking around each other, seeing each other almost every minute of every day, so close and yet so far, both of them probably somewhere else. At nights, Jared can still hear Jensen playing his guitar and singing, all the songs he had taught Jared, and more. So many times Jared almost knocked, wanting to join him or continue where they had left off, but always stopping just behind his closed door and secretly listening.
Shifting the camera from Steve and the strings of his mandolin back to Jensen, Jared realizes once again what a sensory overload Jensen’s singing and playing actually is. It’s hard to perceive everything at once, but even more difficult to focus on one thing only. There are Jensen’s eyes, darkened with emotions and deep, his lips that form each word of the lyrics so easily, giving them meaning and feeling. His voice, smooth and calming, his hands. The way his fingers slide over the strings, carefully like he’s making love to them, just barely touching as though he’s only accidentally brushing over them. Knowing how gentle those hands can be, how light and teasing, how possessive, too, makes Jared wonder why. Why they no longer touch him like this, why they ever stopped. On a little shallower note, Jensen looks really sexy in that denim shirt.
“Where’s Steve?” Jared asks when he sits down on the abandoned chair beside Jensen with two cups of coffee.
Jensen indicates an international sign for a phone call and puts his guitar on the floor gently, leaning it carefully against the near wall. The next moment he makes a greedy reach for one of the coffee cups, like the caffeine addict he actually is. It’s kind of adorable, really.
“Your coffee, sir,” Jared grins, glad that at least some things remain the same.
Jensen curls his fingers around the warm plastic cup firmly and smiles thankfully, “Bless you.”
Watching Jensen sip on his coffee, Jared notices how relaxed he looks now, almost happy. It seems that relief and contentment are literally oozing off his body. “So?”
“So?” Jensen echoes, looking up at Jared over the rim of his coffee with amusement, knowing damn well what Jared’s asking.
“How you feeling? Nervous? Happy? Satisfied?”
“You know, I’m… feeling kinda good, actually.”
“You should be. I’m really proud of you, you know? I know you were worried, but you really don’t have any reason to be. You’re amazing.”
Jared doesn’t know whether it’s the warmth of the coffee, or if Jensen’s truly blushing, but there’s an undeniable tinge of pink coloring his cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Hey, Jen,” Jared starts after a moment, scared that he’s only making another mistake, that maybe he should let sleeping dogs lie, but unable to actually stop himself.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever… think about us?”
Jensen’s eyes widen in surprise and he coughs, choking on a sip of coffee or air only, “Uhm”
“Because I… This is probably weird, and I guess you don’t want to, but I--” Jared pauses to take a breath, unsure how to go on. There’s so much he wants to say, should say, but he seems to be lacking the right words. He puts his cup on his knee and runs his thumb along the lid, trying to concentrate on something else than Jensen’s gaze, so deep and intense, unbelievably distracting. “I don’t know what happened, why we grew apart, but I want you to know that I still like you. And that I still want you. And if… If that year meant something to you, I’m… I’m still here.”
“That was… Jare, that was two years ago,” Jensen notes softly.
“Yeah. I mean, I know, but… is there something like an expiration date for a relationship?” There were Tracey and Danneel, but they both are only history now. Everyone left. And Jensen was alone for long enough to make Jared feel a bit hopeful. But Jensen’s not saying anything now; he’s only looking back at Jared, measuring him. “There is, huh? You’re… somewhere else.”
Jensen stands up with a sigh and scratches on his eyebrow, visibly tensed and nervous. “I wish,” he says, and it sounds nearly like a complaint.
“Doesn’t mean you want to try again,” Jared notes quietly, weakly.
“No, I… I’m not saying that. It’s just… kinda unexpected.”
“I know it is. It’s just--” Jared tilts his head to the side, pointing his chin towards Jensen’s guitar sitting in the corner. “It kinda brought everything back.”
Jensen follows his gaze and he seems to understand, immediately. “She sat in a corner for the whole summer. I couldn’t play. Without you. I got so used to our sessions it just didn’t feel right. I missed you. I… still miss you.”
“Jen.”
Jensen chuckles, but it sounds strained, forced. A little dark. “I really didn’t expect you to bring it up again. Let alone today. Here.”
“Me neither,” Jared admits. “I wasn’t planning on it. If that helps.”
Jensen bites his lip and shakes his head, looking a little lost and completely clueless. Strangely enough, Jensen’s helplessness seems to give more courage to Jared. He pulls himself up to his feet, taking the two, three steps that divide him from Jensen. “Give us another chance,” he says, not quite pleading. “Maybe it’ll work.”
“Maybe.”
“It worked before.”
“Yeah. It did, huh?” There’s something close to a smirk on Jensen’s lips, like he’s also remembering more than the innocent part of their unusual friendship. Everything Jensen does, he does fully, with his whole heart and his body, and when it comes to sex, it’s not any different. Jared’s not ashamed to admit that he really misses their love making, as well as pretty much everything else.
“How about a dinner?” he suggests. “Today.”
“Like… a date?”
“Exactly like a date.”
“Sounds good.” Jensen smiles and it’s that kind of a smile that is only his, not Tom’s or Alec’s or Dean’s, just Jensen’s. It’s very infectious, too, and Jared finds himself grinning in return before he knows it.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Trailing his fingers up the line of buttons on Jensen’s shirt, Jared hooks his index finger behind the top one and tugs, urging Jensen nearer. “You want steak or Chinese?” he asks, barely able to concentrate on forming these words, simple and worn out, but not with Jensen that close, his warmth and fragrance, so familiar and thrilling, filling his senses.
“You,” Jensen replies easily, voice low and innocent, his eyes dark and sparkling with mischief.
Kissing Jensen is simple, comforting. It’s everything Jared remembers and more, better than any memory he had, real. Jensen’s mouth is warm, soft, and his lips feel so good as they slide over Jared’s, slick and bitter, tasting like coffee and mint, like Jensen. When Jared’s teeth graze Jensen’s lower lip, nipping on the full flesh and begging to be let in, Jensen moans, sounding almost startled by that sound himself. His fingers reflexively close around a handful of Jared’s shirt sleeve, keeping him close. It’s too easy to get lost in that feeling, in Jensen’s proximity and everything that seemed to be gone, that, for a moment, Jared actually completely forgets where they are. That is until someone behind him clears his throat loudly, significantly.
Jensen breaks the kiss abruptly, pulling away and ducking his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, we were just--”
Steve doesn’t sound horrified, not even shocked, if anything, he’s clearly amused. “Discussing the settings, I assume?”