Love, Apparent Chapter 17/20
TITLE: Love Apparent 17/20
AUTHOR: lifelesslyndsey
PAIRING: Jared/Misha with briefly mentioned other pairings later
RATING: NC-17
BETA'D: malbryn
A/N This chapter is pretty long and also allll Misha.
It's Christmas dinner, except in Misha's head it's Thanksgiving dinner all over again. The only difference this time is that they're crammed into the Padalecki's spacious dining room. Jared had taken one look at the seating arrangements (assigned by tasteful little note cards decorating the plates) and threw Alexis's straight into the fire without so much as a word.
No one questions it when he shoves Misha into the seat beside him.
Dinner is served, alongside forced smiles and several bottles of wine. “Are you okay?” Misha whispers at Jared, where he's systematically drowning his peas in a pool of cranberry sauce before stabbing them brutally with a carving knife he must have stolen off the plate of honeyed ham.
Jared looks up at him, wide eyed and pale. “Trapped,” he hisses, echoing his words from the diner conversation. “God, Misha. Don't let them trap me.”
It's the eleventh hour, he thinks. “What can I do?” He asks in a frantic rush, wishing Mike or Tom or Jensen was here to bail him out. But this time he's on his own, without the benefit of a safety net. “What do you want me to do?”
“Anything,” Jared growls. “Anything, Misha! I don't care about the consequences. I can't marry her. I swear, I will love and raise that baby. I will work on this fucking farm until I die, any of it, but I can't marry her, I can't! Don't let them make me. Fuck, tell them I have herpes, I don't care. Just... fuck.”
Their whispered conversation is drawing attention, no doubt. “Okay,” Misha says, hoping he doesn't look half as terrified as he feels. “Fuck, Jared. I got your back, I promise.”
He's never made a promise before.
“I'd like to propose a toast,” Gerry says, from his place at the head of the table. He's drawing attention away from Jared and Misha and any other time, Misha would be thankful. “To the union of our families. I know our kids haven't taken the most traditional of metho---”
“Actually,” Misha cuts in, clearing his throat. “Jared can't marry Alexis.”
“Excuse me son?” Gerry says, gruffly.
“Jared can't marry Alexis because... because...”
There are a lot of things Misha could say here. There's the herpes thing, or he could give a speech on how it's a new fucking era where people don't get married because someone forgot the condom. Misha could remind them that a marriage should be built on love and respect, not a backseat accident and a whole lot of resentment. He could talk about how a marriage between Alexis and Jared would only create an emotionally unstable environment for the baby in question. Misha could talk about how it isn't fair to either Alexis or Jared to lose out on finding real love.
But Misha is a selfish bastard so what comes out of his mouth is entirely built on his own wishes. “...Because he's gay.” There's a pause, and Misha can't credit to dramatic flair, or just his own deep desires when he adds, as an afterthought, “with me.”
Silence. Stone silence. The kind of silence that tends to sound louder than even the most rambunctious of crowds. Where they had been looking at Gerry before, during his heartfelt little speech on why abstinence is key, now all eyes were on Misha. Misha's hand is numb under the table where Jared is gripping it and Misha realizes with a gut churning horror that he just announced Jared as a homosexual in front of his whole family in Texas.
And to think, he'd been worried about losing Jared to Alexis.
“JT?” Sharon asks in a wavering voice and Misha feels like he's going to puke. He prays to anyone who will listen that Jared's parents are understanding parents. That they'll understand Misha is a horrible, horrible person and not take it out on Jared. He prays that he hasn't done anything to hurt Jared. If they weren't understanding though, wouldn't Jared have denied the claims by now? Wouldn't he have protested? He wasn't. Instead he was weaving his fingers in with Misha's and bringing their hands to the top of the table.
“At Thanksgiving, I didn't tell you I was bringing Misha home until last minute because I was nervous,” Jared says, voice shaking. He's usually a horrible liar, and Misha is a little bit astounded because he doesn't sound anything less then brutally honest. “I didn't know how to tell you I was gay. I didn't even know if I was going to tell you now. But I wanted you to meet him, at least. Get to know him before you judged us. I know you like Misha, so don't deny it now.”
This is not an avenue Misha expected, but if Jared wants to use Misha as a scapegoat, well, Misha is hard pressed to stop him.
“You were on a date,” Alexis cuts in, her voice deceptively calm. Her hand flits to her bulging stomach, trapped beneath a tastefully cut black dress, earning a murmur of tittering, pity-filled coos. “When I ran into you. You two were on a date.”
“Yes,” Misha offers, his voice breaking like he's thirteen. He's a fantastic liar, but this? He doesn't want this to be a lie. He wants this to be real so bad can taste it. Not the baby part of course but... everything else. He wants it so badly; hell, he'd accept a baby into his life if he meant he could have Jared too. “Was my time to pick,” Misha breaths with a shaky laugh, remembering the very conversation Jared and he were having when everything went to shit.
“I would have picked Bio-Dome,” Jared offers, staring down into his lap. Jared remembers too.
Mrs. Bledel makes an unladylike like noise and slams her hand on the coffee table. “No one asked you about your perversions boy! No one's asked you anything! You will marry her.”
“He won't,”Misha protest, astounded by the woman's ignorance.
“You will shut your mouth, boy! You're not part of this family! Mr. Padalecki! You've agreed----”
“I'm sorry,” Gerry says, his voice void of... well, anything. Even so, what he says, flat or not, is surprising to say the least “But I believe that this conversation ends here. You've heard my son; he has no desire to abandon your daughter in her time of need. This is a... a new day and age, a new era. People will... be more understanding.” He says it like he doesn't possibly believe it to be true, but he says it nonetheless. Sharon laces her fingers into his hand, mimicking Misha and Jared's very pose. She looks around at the hall of people, daring them to contradict her husband. It's relieving, that glare of hers; maybe Jared will be okay.
One thing’s for sure; Jared either knows his parents will go along with it when the truth comes out, or he's really so desperate to avoid marrying the twit, he'll pretend to be gay until it's safe.
Mr. Bledel looks disgusted, lips curling back to reveal spotty, yellow teeth. “Surely you don't intend to support your son's... sickness? Better that he marries Alexis and puts his...” his eyes flitter to Misha, “…behind him. He will straighten up, marry our daughter and keep his sins to himself. I won't have him contaminating the child.”
“Now see here,” Jeff Padalecki pushes up out of his seat, towering over the dinner party. “Jared's a good boy. I won't have you casting aspersions on my baby brother. We don't care what he likes, we love him anyway.” His gaze mimics his father’s, glaring and defiant. No one speaks against him.
“I always wanted a big sister,” is Megan Padalecki's offering, and Misha can't help but snort, half out of nerves, and half out of horror. Jared glares at him, but it's half-heated at best. Megan's comment has seemed to do the trick, little tittering laughs and nervous smiles filling the room as they all attempt to pretend nothing out of the ordinary is happening.
“I'd... I'd marry you anyway,” Alexis blurts out, desperately from Misha's other side. She's leaning forward, belly pressed against the table, in an attempt to look earnestly at Jared. “I don't care. People don't need to know. It doesn't need to leave the room. You've barely known him. He can't mean... how much does he really mean to you? Just... just marry me and we'll never talk about this again.” She's as ignorant as her mother.
The expression Jared gives her could set water on fire and looks totally wrong on Jared's usually smiling face. “He means more than me than you ever did. Ever. And he means at least as much as I expect the... the baby will... eventually.” Jared swallowed, and Misha feels dread well up inside him. He wants to slap his hand over Jared's hand because he just does not want to hear those three words he's sure are going to come out of his mouth. He really doesn't. “I love him.”
He's going to puke. He knows it.
“You'll burn in hell,” Mrs. Bledel growls at him, and Misha is used to those kinds of things, but he doesn't want that for Jared, who isn't even gay in the first place. He wants to punch the lady in the neck.
Someone throws a piece of ham at Mrs. Bledel, a large bite already taken out of it, from the looks of it. It slaps her in the face and falls into a gravy boat with a splosh. Stunned--and not alone in the feeling--Misha's head all but swivels on his shoulders as he looks back to see who threw the meat. It's a little old lady, with dark skin and white hair. It's not a Padalecki, from what he can tell. “Quiet Nanette,” the lady admonishes. “Don't go giving the boy any grief. Your brother-in-law is one of them homosexuals and we love him just fine. It isn't appropriate dinner conversation,” she adds, giving Jared and Misha a firm glance, “and it doesn't need discussing. Carry on now, and no more talk about a wedding.”
“It's as Adele says,” a woman at Misha's table announces in a grizzled voice. She's Jared's grandmother, Lynette Padalecki, a wizened old woman who looks like she could happily eat raw eggs and nails for breakfast. When Jared had introduced them at Thanksgiving, she'd ignored him, giving Misha a long, hard leer and announcing she knew what she was grateful for this year. Then she pinched him hard on the ass. Misha liked her. “Shut up and eat and leave the little sinners alone.”
“Mother,” Gerry hisses, but she stabs at him with her fork, and he quiets.
“Well don't go denying it,” she mutters, biting into her mash potatoes. “We're all sinners, ain’t that right Miss Bledel? Last I hear, the good Lord ain't no more fond of whores than homosexuals.”
“Don't even think about denying it Kimberly Alexis Bledel,” Adele Bledel, a name which Misha will laugh at later, snaps. “If you’re comfortable enough to lay with a man before marriage, you better accept the title that comes with it. I'll tell you the same thing I told your mother when my boy knocked her up: Should have kept your legs together.”
“Mother!” Mr. Bledel says, no doubt horrified at the amount of dirty laundry his mother is content to share about the family. If it weren't so horrifying, Misha would find this hilarious. However, it is horrifying and all he can do is stare, open-mouthed and wide eyed, while surreptitiously stealing the cutlery.
“Whores,” Adele waves her own fork about the room in a flippant gesture. Following Grandma Padalecki's actions, she turns back to her plate and digs into her dinner. “The lot of you.”
Even for all the surprise and horror, Misha remembers why he fucking loves old people.
*
Dinner is a strange affair of stilted conversations and awkward glances after the big outing, but Jared is smiling so wide Misha's own face hurts, so really, that's all that matters.
“We'll be in my room,” Jared says, yanking Misha up the stairs as soon as they get home from the dinner. Jared's parents make to protest, but apparently Jared has grown more spine every day, and is having none of it.
“Jared----”
Jared doesn't stop, doesn't pause, just pulls Misha along, shoving him in the room and slamming the door behind him. He stares at Misha for one long, silent, horrifying minute.
“Jared, I'm so sorry---”
“Mike said he wouldn't tell you,” Jared says over him and Misha has no idea what he's talking about. “He promised. I was going to tell you Misha, I swear, but I just wasn't ready.”
“What?” Misha blinks, and wonders how he managed to steal the salt shaker and three forks during dinner without anyone noticing.
“Mike said he wouldn't tell you I was... um. That I'm gay,” Jared breaths. “I guess... I mean, he's more your friend then mine, I just thought---” Oh God. He looks so sad, but Misha is reeling.
“Mike didn't tell me you're gay,” Misha says slowly, almost devoid of any real inflection. He can't muster up anything else because everything has just gone fun-house-mirror crazy and nothing makes sense. “Mike didn't tell me you're gay because you're not. Jared, you're not gay. You're not.”
“I am,” Jared tell him, swallowing hard. “I was going to tell you. I just had... no idea how. And I mean... I should have talked to you when I started wondering. I should have told you first, but then I accidentally blurted it out to Sandy and then she goes and tells everyone I haven't been kissed, so every fucking girl I see kisses me and at first it was fun, but then it just... I just wanted it over with. Thinking about sex with girls makes me want to puke, but fooling around with Sebastian was the easiest---”
“....I'm sorry, but what?” Misha asks, his voice coming out as a whisper. Jared didn't just say that. That's impossible. Jared is straight. Jared doesn't fool around with guys named Sebastian. He likes sex with girls. He does. That's how this works.
This is all wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. This is Alice-In-Wonderland style, down the rabbit-hole, and into the twilight zone wrong. He can't wrap his head around it, mostly because it's too good to be true and he flat out refuses to be baited into a horrifying illusion of hope. He's made it this far in life without allowing himself any unreasonable expectations, he's certainly not about to start now, no matter how hot, and tan and adorable those expectations might be, with their pretty white teeth and dimples and quarter-bounce-worthy ass cheeks.
He's upset, really, if not a little confused. How the hell did this happen? Did Misha turn Jared gay by... by... prolonged proximity or something? Like when girls' periods sync up and shit. Yes, yes, he knows better than to believe that but he can't help wonder. Wondering is a lot like doubt and Misha does not doubt himself, ever. It pisses him off that he might be starting now. His life use to be easy; he went to class; he played Gay Chicken; he made waffle irons. And then Jared walked in and everything went kersplat a frog on the highway. It occurs to him that he hasn't felt so much since... well. He can't remember. Jared makes him feel spectacular, awesome, confused, jealous, and awful all at once and he really has no idea what to think about it.
Right now though, he's mostly confused with a side of flabbergasted. Yes, flabbergasted. Flabbergasted is not exactly a daily word, because it takes a lot to become properly flabbergasted, but Misha thinks that finding out your best-friend who you may or may not be brutally in love with is conveniently gay... shit. It's definitely a qualifier. At least by Misha's standards--and before Jared, Misha didn't even have standards. He had a checklist.
Jared flushes. “I um. I fooled around with this guy at that party. But I think... well. I knew before that. I was just coming to terms with it before that. And then Roche just happened.”
His tired, overtaxed, rusty hamster-wheel of a brain kicks into squeaky gear. Sebastian. Roche. Sebastian Roche. Oh fuck no. “You slept with Sebastian Roche!?”
“I don't think what we did really constitutes as sex---” Like Jared would know what qualified as sex, he'd been gay for like a week as far as Misha knew!
He's angry now. Which is a quite the accomplishment considering all the Valium he took before dinner.
Misha's heard enough. He pushes past Jared and rushes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, locking the door before Jared has a chance to grab the handle.
“Misha?”
Oh no. No this isn't happening. Fucking Sebastian. Sebastian is a tool. He's a creepy, handsy, foreign tool. It certainly explains the cocky look on his face at the gym. Bastard.
“Misha come on.”
Fine, whatever. Misha's man enough to face facts; he's never made a habit of lying to himself. Sebastian is a perfectly alright guy, cheery and actually quite witty. Misha is pretty sure he could even like Sebastian…
“Are you mad that I didn't tell you?”
...if Sebastian wasn't such a total douche-bag. Misha might have liked Sebastian if he hadn't made Mike choose between the Misha and himself. Mike had chosen Misha and Misha had never felt guiltier. Mike had really liked Sebastian. Loved him even, maybe, but as previously said, Misha's not exactly an expert on love. The point is, Mike picked Misha, because Sebastian had demanded it, and Misha couldn't fucking forgive Sebastian that, for laying down that ultimatum and putting his friend in a place like that. Mike was too good a friend for Misha; Misha had never deserved him. But in the end? In the end he had gotten Mike, and Mike had gotten his heart broken. So Misha hates Sebastian, hates him, hates him, hates him.....
“Misha,” Jared breaths, all sad and quiet, and it's almost more than Misha can handle. “Please come out. Please?”
….and then Sebastian has to go and sleep with Jared. Because Jared is apparently gay. Jared is gay. Jared is gay and Misha didn't know. Sebastian fucking Roche knew before Misha. Jared had decided to be gay and have his first hook up but he couldn't come to Misha. Why not?
It hurts.
“Misha,” Jared sounds like he might be crying but Misha isn't going to consider that. “I am so sorry that I didn't tell you. I was going to, I swear. But... it's just--your opinion matters so much more than anyone else’s. I know you wouldn't judge me, I know that. I just... I didn't know how to just say it.”
Opening the door, mostly because the bathroom smells like Jared's body wash and it's making him dizzy, Misha gives Jared a baleful look. “You should have told me.”
“I should have,” Jared agrees, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you. I'm sorry. You really told my parents I was gay without actually knowing?”
“Yeah,” Misha says with a frantic, broken laugh. “I just... you told me not to let them make you marry her and I couldn't... I didn't know what to do. In retrospect, I realize it probably could have gone really south.”
“It's fine,” Jared assures him, pulling him from the bathroom. “We should sleep.” He's tired, but the bed just seems like a horrible idea at this moment. Now that Jared isn't straight, sleeping together has lost its innocence.
Er... as innocent as it ever was. Which wasn't much.
“Mmm,” Misha hums, letting himself be manhandled across the bedroom, and down onto the mattress. Maybe it's okay. It's not the first time they've laid in bed together. It's only pervy if he makes it pervy. It's okay. It's alright. It's fine. It's okay.
Fuck that. He doesn't lie to himself. It's not okay and he's going to puke.
Jared toes of Misha's shoes, and then his own, four loud thunks hitting the floor one-by-one. “You'll keep in touch?” He asks, laying his head on the pillow.
“What?” Misha asks. He can't keep up.
“When I move back here,” Jared says in a breath. “You'll keep in touch?”
Oh god. They're going to take Jared away from him anyway. “As your boyfriend I suspect it's expected,” he tries to say with a laugh. It comes out flat and lifeless and Jared makes a choked noise.
“Um,” he sucks in a slow breath. “If... if we... We can make it look like we broke up. I think that would be understandable, you know? I mean, I'm pretty sure me being gay is reason enough to not make me marry her.”
Misha nods tiredly because he's been Jared's pretend-boyfriend for like two minutes, and Jared is already talking about pretending to break up. “Sure. Right. Let's just... let's just wait until we go back to school though. Just to be sure, okay?” Fuck this. If this is all he can have of Jared, he's going to fucking milk it like the little weasel he's known to be.
“Meesh?” Jared drawls the name out in a sleepy slur.
“Mmmhm?”
“Merry Christmas.”
They sleep.
Chapter Eighteen....
AUTHOR: lifelesslyndsey
PAIRING: Jared/Misha with briefly mentioned other pairings later
RATING: NC-17
BETA'D: malbryn
A/N This chapter is pretty long and also allll Misha.
It's Christmas dinner, except in Misha's head it's Thanksgiving dinner all over again. The only difference this time is that they're crammed into the Padalecki's spacious dining room. Jared had taken one look at the seating arrangements (assigned by tasteful little note cards decorating the plates) and threw Alexis's straight into the fire without so much as a word.
No one questions it when he shoves Misha into the seat beside him.
Dinner is served, alongside forced smiles and several bottles of wine. “Are you okay?” Misha whispers at Jared, where he's systematically drowning his peas in a pool of cranberry sauce before stabbing them brutally with a carving knife he must have stolen off the plate of honeyed ham.
Jared looks up at him, wide eyed and pale. “Trapped,” he hisses, echoing his words from the diner conversation. “God, Misha. Don't let them trap me.”
It's the eleventh hour, he thinks. “What can I do?” He asks in a frantic rush, wishing Mike or Tom or Jensen was here to bail him out. But this time he's on his own, without the benefit of a safety net. “What do you want me to do?”
“Anything,” Jared growls. “Anything, Misha! I don't care about the consequences. I can't marry her. I swear, I will love and raise that baby. I will work on this fucking farm until I die, any of it, but I can't marry her, I can't! Don't let them make me. Fuck, tell them I have herpes, I don't care. Just... fuck.”
Their whispered conversation is drawing attention, no doubt. “Okay,” Misha says, hoping he doesn't look half as terrified as he feels. “Fuck, Jared. I got your back, I promise.”
He's never made a promise before.
“I'd like to propose a toast,” Gerry says, from his place at the head of the table. He's drawing attention away from Jared and Misha and any other time, Misha would be thankful. “To the union of our families. I know our kids haven't taken the most traditional of metho---”
“Actually,” Misha cuts in, clearing his throat. “Jared can't marry Alexis.”
“Excuse me son?” Gerry says, gruffly.
“Jared can't marry Alexis because... because...”
There are a lot of things Misha could say here. There's the herpes thing, or he could give a speech on how it's a new fucking era where people don't get married because someone forgot the condom. Misha could remind them that a marriage should be built on love and respect, not a backseat accident and a whole lot of resentment. He could talk about how a marriage between Alexis and Jared would only create an emotionally unstable environment for the baby in question. Misha could talk about how it isn't fair to either Alexis or Jared to lose out on finding real love.
But Misha is a selfish bastard so what comes out of his mouth is entirely built on his own wishes. “...Because he's gay.” There's a pause, and Misha can't credit to dramatic flair, or just his own deep desires when he adds, as an afterthought, “with me.”
Silence. Stone silence. The kind of silence that tends to sound louder than even the most rambunctious of crowds. Where they had been looking at Gerry before, during his heartfelt little speech on why abstinence is key, now all eyes were on Misha. Misha's hand is numb under the table where Jared is gripping it and Misha realizes with a gut churning horror that he just announced Jared as a homosexual in front of his whole family in Texas.
And to think, he'd been worried about losing Jared to Alexis.
“JT?” Sharon asks in a wavering voice and Misha feels like he's going to puke. He prays to anyone who will listen that Jared's parents are understanding parents. That they'll understand Misha is a horrible, horrible person and not take it out on Jared. He prays that he hasn't done anything to hurt Jared. If they weren't understanding though, wouldn't Jared have denied the claims by now? Wouldn't he have protested? He wasn't. Instead he was weaving his fingers in with Misha's and bringing their hands to the top of the table.
“At Thanksgiving, I didn't tell you I was bringing Misha home until last minute because I was nervous,” Jared says, voice shaking. He's usually a horrible liar, and Misha is a little bit astounded because he doesn't sound anything less then brutally honest. “I didn't know how to tell you I was gay. I didn't even know if I was going to tell you now. But I wanted you to meet him, at least. Get to know him before you judged us. I know you like Misha, so don't deny it now.”
This is not an avenue Misha expected, but if Jared wants to use Misha as a scapegoat, well, Misha is hard pressed to stop him.
“You were on a date,” Alexis cuts in, her voice deceptively calm. Her hand flits to her bulging stomach, trapped beneath a tastefully cut black dress, earning a murmur of tittering, pity-filled coos. “When I ran into you. You two were on a date.”
“Yes,” Misha offers, his voice breaking like he's thirteen. He's a fantastic liar, but this? He doesn't want this to be a lie. He wants this to be real so bad can taste it. Not the baby part of course but... everything else. He wants it so badly; hell, he'd accept a baby into his life if he meant he could have Jared too. “Was my time to pick,” Misha breaths with a shaky laugh, remembering the very conversation Jared and he were having when everything went to shit.
“I would have picked Bio-Dome,” Jared offers, staring down into his lap. Jared remembers too.
Mrs. Bledel makes an unladylike like noise and slams her hand on the coffee table. “No one asked you about your perversions boy! No one's asked you anything! You will marry her.”
“He won't,”Misha protest, astounded by the woman's ignorance.
“You will shut your mouth, boy! You're not part of this family! Mr. Padalecki! You've agreed----”
“I'm sorry,” Gerry says, his voice void of... well, anything. Even so, what he says, flat or not, is surprising to say the least “But I believe that this conversation ends here. You've heard my son; he has no desire to abandon your daughter in her time of need. This is a... a new day and age, a new era. People will... be more understanding.” He says it like he doesn't possibly believe it to be true, but he says it nonetheless. Sharon laces her fingers into his hand, mimicking Misha and Jared's very pose. She looks around at the hall of people, daring them to contradict her husband. It's relieving, that glare of hers; maybe Jared will be okay.
One thing’s for sure; Jared either knows his parents will go along with it when the truth comes out, or he's really so desperate to avoid marrying the twit, he'll pretend to be gay until it's safe.
Mr. Bledel looks disgusted, lips curling back to reveal spotty, yellow teeth. “Surely you don't intend to support your son's... sickness? Better that he marries Alexis and puts his...” his eyes flitter to Misha, “…behind him. He will straighten up, marry our daughter and keep his sins to himself. I won't have him contaminating the child.”
“Now see here,” Jeff Padalecki pushes up out of his seat, towering over the dinner party. “Jared's a good boy. I won't have you casting aspersions on my baby brother. We don't care what he likes, we love him anyway.” His gaze mimics his father’s, glaring and defiant. No one speaks against him.
“I always wanted a big sister,” is Megan Padalecki's offering, and Misha can't help but snort, half out of nerves, and half out of horror. Jared glares at him, but it's half-heated at best. Megan's comment has seemed to do the trick, little tittering laughs and nervous smiles filling the room as they all attempt to pretend nothing out of the ordinary is happening.
“I'd... I'd marry you anyway,” Alexis blurts out, desperately from Misha's other side. She's leaning forward, belly pressed against the table, in an attempt to look earnestly at Jared. “I don't care. People don't need to know. It doesn't need to leave the room. You've barely known him. He can't mean... how much does he really mean to you? Just... just marry me and we'll never talk about this again.” She's as ignorant as her mother.
The expression Jared gives her could set water on fire and looks totally wrong on Jared's usually smiling face. “He means more than me than you ever did. Ever. And he means at least as much as I expect the... the baby will... eventually.” Jared swallowed, and Misha feels dread well up inside him. He wants to slap his hand over Jared's hand because he just does not want to hear those three words he's sure are going to come out of his mouth. He really doesn't. “I love him.”
He's going to puke. He knows it.
“You'll burn in hell,” Mrs. Bledel growls at him, and Misha is used to those kinds of things, but he doesn't want that for Jared, who isn't even gay in the first place. He wants to punch the lady in the neck.
Someone throws a piece of ham at Mrs. Bledel, a large bite already taken out of it, from the looks of it. It slaps her in the face and falls into a gravy boat with a splosh. Stunned--and not alone in the feeling--Misha's head all but swivels on his shoulders as he looks back to see who threw the meat. It's a little old lady, with dark skin and white hair. It's not a Padalecki, from what he can tell. “Quiet Nanette,” the lady admonishes. “Don't go giving the boy any grief. Your brother-in-law is one of them homosexuals and we love him just fine. It isn't appropriate dinner conversation,” she adds, giving Jared and Misha a firm glance, “and it doesn't need discussing. Carry on now, and no more talk about a wedding.”
“It's as Adele says,” a woman at Misha's table announces in a grizzled voice. She's Jared's grandmother, Lynette Padalecki, a wizened old woman who looks like she could happily eat raw eggs and nails for breakfast. When Jared had introduced them at Thanksgiving, she'd ignored him, giving Misha a long, hard leer and announcing she knew what she was grateful for this year. Then she pinched him hard on the ass. Misha liked her. “Shut up and eat and leave the little sinners alone.”
“Mother,” Gerry hisses, but she stabs at him with her fork, and he quiets.
“Well don't go denying it,” she mutters, biting into her mash potatoes. “We're all sinners, ain’t that right Miss Bledel? Last I hear, the good Lord ain't no more fond of whores than homosexuals.”
“Don't even think about denying it Kimberly Alexis Bledel,” Adele Bledel, a name which Misha will laugh at later, snaps. “If you’re comfortable enough to lay with a man before marriage, you better accept the title that comes with it. I'll tell you the same thing I told your mother when my boy knocked her up: Should have kept your legs together.”
“Mother!” Mr. Bledel says, no doubt horrified at the amount of dirty laundry his mother is content to share about the family. If it weren't so horrifying, Misha would find this hilarious. However, it is horrifying and all he can do is stare, open-mouthed and wide eyed, while surreptitiously stealing the cutlery.
“Whores,” Adele waves her own fork about the room in a flippant gesture. Following Grandma Padalecki's actions, she turns back to her plate and digs into her dinner. “The lot of you.”
Even for all the surprise and horror, Misha remembers why he fucking loves old people.
*
Dinner is a strange affair of stilted conversations and awkward glances after the big outing, but Jared is smiling so wide Misha's own face hurts, so really, that's all that matters.
“We'll be in my room,” Jared says, yanking Misha up the stairs as soon as they get home from the dinner. Jared's parents make to protest, but apparently Jared has grown more spine every day, and is having none of it.
“Jared----”
Jared doesn't stop, doesn't pause, just pulls Misha along, shoving him in the room and slamming the door behind him. He stares at Misha for one long, silent, horrifying minute.
“Jared, I'm so sorry---”
“Mike said he wouldn't tell you,” Jared says over him and Misha has no idea what he's talking about. “He promised. I was going to tell you Misha, I swear, but I just wasn't ready.”
“What?” Misha blinks, and wonders how he managed to steal the salt shaker and three forks during dinner without anyone noticing.
“Mike said he wouldn't tell you I was... um. That I'm gay,” Jared breaths. “I guess... I mean, he's more your friend then mine, I just thought---” Oh God. He looks so sad, but Misha is reeling.
“Mike didn't tell me you're gay,” Misha says slowly, almost devoid of any real inflection. He can't muster up anything else because everything has just gone fun-house-mirror crazy and nothing makes sense. “Mike didn't tell me you're gay because you're not. Jared, you're not gay. You're not.”
“I am,” Jared tell him, swallowing hard. “I was going to tell you. I just had... no idea how. And I mean... I should have talked to you when I started wondering. I should have told you first, but then I accidentally blurted it out to Sandy and then she goes and tells everyone I haven't been kissed, so every fucking girl I see kisses me and at first it was fun, but then it just... I just wanted it over with. Thinking about sex with girls makes me want to puke, but fooling around with Sebastian was the easiest---”
“....I'm sorry, but what?” Misha asks, his voice coming out as a whisper. Jared didn't just say that. That's impossible. Jared is straight. Jared doesn't fool around with guys named Sebastian. He likes sex with girls. He does. That's how this works.
This is all wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. This is Alice-In-Wonderland style, down the rabbit-hole, and into the twilight zone wrong. He can't wrap his head around it, mostly because it's too good to be true and he flat out refuses to be baited into a horrifying illusion of hope. He's made it this far in life without allowing himself any unreasonable expectations, he's certainly not about to start now, no matter how hot, and tan and adorable those expectations might be, with their pretty white teeth and dimples and quarter-bounce-worthy ass cheeks.
He's upset, really, if not a little confused. How the hell did this happen? Did Misha turn Jared gay by... by... prolonged proximity or something? Like when girls' periods sync up and shit. Yes, yes, he knows better than to believe that but he can't help wonder. Wondering is a lot like doubt and Misha does not doubt himself, ever. It pisses him off that he might be starting now. His life use to be easy; he went to class; he played Gay Chicken; he made waffle irons. And then Jared walked in and everything went kersplat a frog on the highway. It occurs to him that he hasn't felt so much since... well. He can't remember. Jared makes him feel spectacular, awesome, confused, jealous, and awful all at once and he really has no idea what to think about it.
Right now though, he's mostly confused with a side of flabbergasted. Yes, flabbergasted. Flabbergasted is not exactly a daily word, because it takes a lot to become properly flabbergasted, but Misha thinks that finding out your best-friend who you may or may not be brutally in love with is conveniently gay... shit. It's definitely a qualifier. At least by Misha's standards--and before Jared, Misha didn't even have standards. He had a checklist.
Jared flushes. “I um. I fooled around with this guy at that party. But I think... well. I knew before that. I was just coming to terms with it before that. And then Roche just happened.”
His tired, overtaxed, rusty hamster-wheel of a brain kicks into squeaky gear. Sebastian. Roche. Sebastian Roche. Oh fuck no. “You slept with Sebastian Roche!?”
“I don't think what we did really constitutes as sex---” Like Jared would know what qualified as sex, he'd been gay for like a week as far as Misha knew!
He's angry now. Which is a quite the accomplishment considering all the Valium he took before dinner.
Misha's heard enough. He pushes past Jared and rushes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, locking the door before Jared has a chance to grab the handle.
“Misha?”
Oh no. No this isn't happening. Fucking Sebastian. Sebastian is a tool. He's a creepy, handsy, foreign tool. It certainly explains the cocky look on his face at the gym. Bastard.
“Misha come on.”
Fine, whatever. Misha's man enough to face facts; he's never made a habit of lying to himself. Sebastian is a perfectly alright guy, cheery and actually quite witty. Misha is pretty sure he could even like Sebastian…
“Are you mad that I didn't tell you?”
...if Sebastian wasn't such a total douche-bag. Misha might have liked Sebastian if he hadn't made Mike choose between the Misha and himself. Mike had chosen Misha and Misha had never felt guiltier. Mike had really liked Sebastian. Loved him even, maybe, but as previously said, Misha's not exactly an expert on love. The point is, Mike picked Misha, because Sebastian had demanded it, and Misha couldn't fucking forgive Sebastian that, for laying down that ultimatum and putting his friend in a place like that. Mike was too good a friend for Misha; Misha had never deserved him. But in the end? In the end he had gotten Mike, and Mike had gotten his heart broken. So Misha hates Sebastian, hates him, hates him, hates him.....
“Misha,” Jared breaths, all sad and quiet, and it's almost more than Misha can handle. “Please come out. Please?”
….and then Sebastian has to go and sleep with Jared. Because Jared is apparently gay. Jared is gay. Jared is gay and Misha didn't know. Sebastian fucking Roche knew before Misha. Jared had decided to be gay and have his first hook up but he couldn't come to Misha. Why not?
It hurts.
“Misha,” Jared sounds like he might be crying but Misha isn't going to consider that. “I am so sorry that I didn't tell you. I was going to, I swear. But... it's just--your opinion matters so much more than anyone else’s. I know you wouldn't judge me, I know that. I just... I didn't know how to just say it.”
Opening the door, mostly because the bathroom smells like Jared's body wash and it's making him dizzy, Misha gives Jared a baleful look. “You should have told me.”
“I should have,” Jared agrees, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you. I'm sorry. You really told my parents I was gay without actually knowing?”
“Yeah,” Misha says with a frantic, broken laugh. “I just... you told me not to let them make you marry her and I couldn't... I didn't know what to do. In retrospect, I realize it probably could have gone really south.”
“It's fine,” Jared assures him, pulling him from the bathroom. “We should sleep.” He's tired, but the bed just seems like a horrible idea at this moment. Now that Jared isn't straight, sleeping together has lost its innocence.
Er... as innocent as it ever was. Which wasn't much.
“Mmm,” Misha hums, letting himself be manhandled across the bedroom, and down onto the mattress. Maybe it's okay. It's not the first time they've laid in bed together. It's only pervy if he makes it pervy. It's okay. It's alright. It's fine. It's okay.
Fuck that. He doesn't lie to himself. It's not okay and he's going to puke.
Jared toes of Misha's shoes, and then his own, four loud thunks hitting the floor one-by-one. “You'll keep in touch?” He asks, laying his head on the pillow.
“What?” Misha asks. He can't keep up.
“When I move back here,” Jared says in a breath. “You'll keep in touch?”
Oh god. They're going to take Jared away from him anyway. “As your boyfriend I suspect it's expected,” he tries to say with a laugh. It comes out flat and lifeless and Jared makes a choked noise.
“Um,” he sucks in a slow breath. “If... if we... We can make it look like we broke up. I think that would be understandable, you know? I mean, I'm pretty sure me being gay is reason enough to not make me marry her.”
Misha nods tiredly because he's been Jared's pretend-boyfriend for like two minutes, and Jared is already talking about pretending to break up. “Sure. Right. Let's just... let's just wait until we go back to school though. Just to be sure, okay?” Fuck this. If this is all he can have of Jared, he's going to fucking milk it like the little weasel he's known to be.
“Meesh?” Jared drawls the name out in a sleepy slur.
“Mmmhm?”
“Merry Christmas.”
They sleep.
Chapter Eighteen....