FIC: Re-cast (scar!verse), ch 11/? rated PG Jensen/Jared
Title: Re-cast (scar!verse) ch 11/?
Author: Ladyjanelly
Rating: PG
Characters: Jensen/Jared,
Summary: Jensen stopped acting in 2000. He still runs into Jared.
Warning: Men sexing men, AU.
Disclaimer: Never happened, not my boys.
Feedback: Is always appreciated-- praise, crit, all of it.
Thanks to
misskatieleigh for the quick beta.
Their Sundays together are a given at this point. There’s no need to discuss picking up the dogs and some toys for the park; the only decision is what restaurant they want to get their picnic from.
Jared’s tired after they eat, deprived of his Sunday lounging in bed while Jen's at church alone. He relaxes back on the blanket and watches while Jensen hits tennis balls with a baseball bat for the dogs to chase. The boy has one hell of a swing, he thinks, the sun leeching the brain-power from him. He likes the way Jen's muscles flex under his t-shirt, the power and torque in his torso. Better than anything they show on television; he could watch Jensen all day.
He looks good, like he’s done this before. High school ball, Jared thinks, or maybe college. Jared can picture him, out in the bright Texas sun, those tight baseball pants, fitting like cling-wrap around that perfect ass. And wouldn’t Jared like to douse him in Gatorade and then help him shower it off later.
A shadow looms over Jared, startling him out of his fantasy. Harley drops the slobber-soaked ball on his chest and whoofs hopefully. Jensen snickers. “Aww, he wants daddy to play too.”
Jared picks the ball up with two fingers, and stares down at the wet spot on his shirt. “’cause his momma hits like a girl?”
Jensen narrows his eyes, and for a second, Jared thinks he’s in real trouble. He holds the glare until Jared’s about to squirm, then tips his chin up at Jared. “You think you can sneak a fastball past me?”
That sounds like a challenge, and Jared’s never figured how to let one of those go by. It takes half an hour for him to figure out that there’s no way to throw a legal pitch with a tennis ball that Jensen can’t hit, even if he is distracted with making sure Sadie doesn’t get in the way. Jared switches to the tactic of arguing that his outside, inside and low throws are perfectly good. It’s all fun and games until his inside is a little in, and he catches Jensen on the shoulder.
Jen drops the bat and turns away. For a second, Jared thinks he’s accidentally figured out how to hurt somebody with a tennis ball, but when he gets to Jen's side, he sees that Jensen's shaking shoulders are from laughter.
“Oh god,” he says, somehow grinning and grimacing at the same time. “Oh, that was the grossest thing. It squelched. Jared, I can’t believe you hit me with a squelchy tennis ball.”
Jared puts on his most eloquent pout. “You got hit with it. I’ve been catching it, dude.”
Then Jensen rubs his slobbery shoulder off on Jared’s chest, and Jared wipes his hands on Jensen's jeans, and there is much thumping and wrasslin’ until they fall laughing onto their blanket, and Jared thinks it’s one of the most wonderfully simple days of his life.
Their usual spot is on the far side of the field from the park’s parking lot. It’s a longer walk, but the privacy it affords is worth it. The other picnickers can tell they’re both guys, but Jared doesn’t think they’re close enough to recognize him as “that boy from the show with the car.”
When Jensen sprawls down beside him, he has no worries about shifting around and pillowing his head on his lover’s flat stomach. Jen combs his fingers through Jared’s hair and Jared sighs in contentment. One more full week of shooting, and then a few half-days to pick up some shots that Kripke wanted to add, and then he’s free for the summer.
Which reminds him, “Hey, I told Eric J. we’d go out on Saturday.”
“The twentieth or twenty seventh?”
“Twentieth. I was thinking, maybe dinner and drinks with the guys?”
“The twentieth, I can do.” Jensen shrugs and Jared can feel a little tension in the muscles he’s using as a pillow. “I’ve got this thing the week after.” That didn’t sound like a happy thing, and Jared rolls over so he can see Jensen’s face.
“My parents are celebrating their anniversary, throwing this huge cookout, and they want me to come,” Jensen clarifies. Something uncertain flutters in Jared’s chest. “You want some company? We could fly down together and then drive down to San Antonio. My mom wants to meet you, and--”
“Jared,” Jensen says, that soft tone of warning in his voice. “Look, I could meet you at your parent’s house, right? You go spend the weekend with them, I’ll take a few more days off of work, and then we can fly back together.”
Jared sits up and turns around so he can see Jensen's face. His jaw works, but he can’t get any words out. He knows Jensen loves him, and he’s trying to not get pissed or hurt. He wants Jensen to be in every part of his life; he can’t quite understand how it can not work both ways.
“Do they not know?” he finally throws out there, because he can’t come up with another reason for Jensen to shut him out on this. Jensen sits up; he looks vaguely ill, pale and worried.
“They know,” he says, staring out over the park, watching the dogs, other picnickers, everything but Jared. “About me. In general, not--”
“Not that you’re seeing someone.” Jared tries to not let that hurt, either. He just told his own family a day ago. He knows he shouldn’t expect more than that. Jensen's obviously told his friends from church; that has to count for something.
“They’re good people, Jared,” Jensen protests. “We’ve had our problems, but I’ve never doubted that they love me. They just--” Jensen’s voice breaks and Jared can’t help but put his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “They just don’t want me to spend an eternity in hell. They think the way I am is something they did wrong raising me, something they can fix.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Jared, I’m sorry,” and Jared hugs him around the shoulders. He’s never felt Jensen so tense before.
“You know they’re wrong, right?” He kisses Jensen's hair and feels him start to relax, “There’s no sin in this, in us being together. Okay, the not-married thing, maybe, but they wouldn’t be freaking out if you were living with a girl, would they?”
“I know,” Jensen sighs. “I know now, at least. I just don’t want to spend the whole visit worrying my mom and being invisible to my dad. I don’t want Josh to try and scare you off like he has every other guy I’ve let him meet.”
Jared does some sighing of his own. “You’ll still come down to San Antonio, after?”
“Yeah,” says Jensen, sounding relieved. “We can do that.”
Nothing has changed but there’s a tension between them that was never there before. They go home and Jared reads though the next day’s script while Jensen sends some emails for work. They watch a movie before it has to go back to the store, and Jared can’t say what it’s about, he’s so aware of Jensen and nothing else.
The dogs slink around the house, like their daddies are fighting. It scares Jared that maybe they are. He’s got no frame of reference for this; his parents never fought. His relationships have always died of outside causes--distance, moving, working. He never even fought with Sandy, they just drifted apart.
He wants to make it this right, but he’s not even exactly sure what’s wrong. They don’t talk as they get ready for bed. It doesn’t feel like one of those “I’m pissed at you” not-talkings, but he’s not positive. He strips down to t-shirt and boxers and slides between the sheets, curled on his side and petting Sadie over the edge of the bed. He hears Jensen turn off the sink in the bathroom. The lights go out, and then Jensen settles in behind him.
The touch to Jared’s hip is light, hesitant, but Jared scooches back into it, nestling himself up against Jensen. Jen spoons up close, and Jared doesn’t even care that he’s the bigger spoon and should be on the outside. They still fit like they were made to be together.
Jensen presses his cheek against Jared’s spine. Jared’s just so tired. The show’s wearing him down, and the weekend’s emotional rollercoaster has sapped the reserves that usually get refilled on his days off. He feels stupid, girly and insecure as he whispers, “You mad at me?” into the dark.
Jensen squeezes him tighter, and Jared feels safe, kept. “I thought you were mad at me,” Jen admits.
Jared shallows hard and shakes his head. His confession is hushed. “I’m not--I’m not mad, I just--every time you do this, every time you shut me out, I feel like you think I’m some asshole who doesn’t-- who doesn’t love you enough to--”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen cuts him off, soft and sad. “I’m sorry. I don’t think that of you, Jared.” He kisses softly at the back of Jared’s neck. “I know you’re not Martin. I know it. I just don’t know how to act, and I’m sorry.”
“So we’re okay?” Jared’s voice sounds like himself again, and he feels his tense muscles begin to relax.
“We’re okay,” Jensen says. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Jared wants something more, something to prove to himself that he hasn’t fucked this up, but he’s too sleepy, too worn. The next thing he knows it’s morning, with the alarm going off and the dogs whining at him to get up.