Part 5 - Screw You, We're From Texas
*We’re aging with time, like yesterday’s wine.*
Jared has known something’s been going on with Jensen, has known for awhile, but he never expected this.
For months he’s seemed fidgety, antsy, meeting Jared’s eye less and wanting to fuck around more. He thought it was weird, sure, but this. This just isn’t what he was expecting, for Jensen to just wander through the living room one day, all casual, just oh hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m engaged. He does his best to keep his face neutral.
“Uh, wow. I just. Wow. When did this happen?”
Jensen ducks his head, rubs at the back of his hair, and Jared already knows he’s not gonna like the answer.
“Awhile ago.”
“What’s awhile ago?”
“Back in the summer.”
Back in the summer, sure. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and Jared’s trying to read Jensen’s face but coming up empty. If Jensen is really happy, Jared’s willing to put his personal feelings aside; what kind of friend would he be if he wasn’t? But Jen doesn’t seem happy, hasn’t seemed happy, and all Jared can think is that when Chris was proposing to Kelly, it was a months-long ordeal of planning and ring-choosing and freaking out about getting it right, followed by five hundred excited phone calls to everyone they knew, the second she said yes.
This doesn’t feel like that, not even a little. Jared can’t help it if he seems a little shell shocked.
“I didn’t even know you were thinking about proposing.”
“It just figured it was time, I mean five years, you know? It just kinda happened, spur of the moment.”
“And then you. I mean. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jensen looks miserable, meets Jared’s eyes, finally, with a look that’s pleading with him to understand.
“Oh.” Jared nods. “You thought it would be weird. Because of-“
“No.” Jensen cuts him off. “Not that, just. I don’t know, I’m not really into big announcements.”
He looks at the stairs like he’s itching to make his escape, like they hold the key to his future happiness, like getting out of this room with Jared in it is all he wants in the world. Jared isn’t trying to make it hard, doesn’t want to make it hard, he just doesn’t understand. He can be happy for Jensen and Amy, he really can. It might take him awhile, but whatever, he can do it. Mostly all he wants right now is for that pained look to leave Jensen’s face, for Jensen not to want to run away from him, so he puts on his biggest smile.
“I know man, I’ve met you.”
Jensen looks up hesitantly.
“Still think you’re a pussy for not telling me, but I guess I should be used to that by now, huh?”
He keeps grinning, until Jensen looks like maybe he believes it.
“Can’t say I’m not surprised. But whatever makes you happy, man.”
Jensen finally breathes, finally smiles back. It doesn’t make Jared feel better, like he hoped it would.
= = = = =
Jared’s been out with Jimbo and Chen and Jordan, and he didn’t invite Jensen. It wasn’t him being passive aggressive, not really, it was more just self preservation. He needed Jensen out of sight, out of mind for awhile, so he could think about something else, or think about nothing, just not think about Jensen. Or how Jensen’s getting married and how that’s going to change Jared’s whole fucking life, even though he had no say in it whatsoever. Which is maybe like, the single most frustrating thing that’s ever happened to him.
So yeah. He needed a night out.
He had too much to drink and picked up some cute little brunette, just because he can. Because he’s single, and that’s what single people get to do, they get to drink too much and hook up with strangers. He even thought about bringing her home with him, but no matter how drunk he is, he can’t even get drunk enough to be that passive aggressive. So he drove her home, fucked her in her cramped little West Campus apartment, then came home and drank some more.
Now he’s sitting in his room, thinking about Jensen asleep upstairs, just sleeping, like it’s nothing, and Jared hasn’t slept in three days.
Jensen’s getting married. Which means, first of all, they won’t live together anymore. They’ll hardly even see each other anymore. And it’s not like when Chris and Kelly got married, not even close, because Jared’s not friends with Amy, and he doesn’t need to be hit over the head to know Amy doesn’t want to be his friend. And he can see the writing on the wall, knows Jensen won’t be his friend much longer, either, because Jensen always defers to what she wants and what she wants is definitely for Jensen to not be friends with Jared, he’s sure of it. They’ll probably dress him up in a fucking monkey suit, make him stand up there at the altar and watch it all up close and personal, like a fucking train wreck, and then Jensen will stop returning his calls.
Of course the rest of it will stop, too. Jensen might screw around with some guy who happens to live down the hall when his girlfriend - who won’t even touch him - lives hundreds of miles away, but Jensen isn’t gonna make a special trip across town to screw around on his wife. Jared doesn’t need to be told that, either.
She’ll move in here, into Jared’s house, and he’ll have to find somewhere else to go, have to get the fuck out of the way. They’ll just live here together and be all married and whatever, and turn his room into a fucking nursery and shit, and only associate with other married people they meet at the church that Amy will make Jensen go to six days a week and twice on fucking Sunday. It will all be like Jared never even existed, and he just can’t really stand it, the fucking idea of it.
What started as a little flare of anger in his belly is suddenly burning out of control, filling him with white hot rage. He wants to just stomp right up those fucking stairs, right now. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows, but he does anyway.
“What about me?”
“What the fuck, man?”
Jensen sighs, tiredly, but he doesn’t sound disoriented, doesn’t even sound surprised. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping, after all.
“You’re getting married, and what, I’m just out on my fuckin’ ear?”
“Jay, that’s not how it’s gonna be.”
“Fuck you.”
He says it loud, and mean. He hears Jensen take a deep breath, and hopes it means he’s pissed off; Jared is fucking itching for a fight.
“The wedding isn’t until next summer. And anyway, Amy doesn’t want to live here. Old houses aren’t really her thing, all creaky and small, and. She wants something bigger, new. We’ll probably move up North, Round Rock or Cedar Park or something. I was thinking you could just stay here, just cover the mortgage, I don’t care about anything extra. You can afford it by yourself now, or get a roommate if you want, whatever works. And it’s a good investment for me to keep it.”
Jared snorts.
“So you’ve got my life all figured out. Thanks a fucking million.”
“I didn’t-. I’m just saying, I’m not throwing you out, like you’re making it sound.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I?”
The sarcasm in Jensen’s voice makes Jared want to throw something, or punch something, or something.
“Fucking right you do, asshole. I mean what about me? What about me, and you, and-“
He wants to say us, but he can’t - can’t let himself say it, can’t stand the way it sounds even in his head.
It’s quiet for awhile, just the sound of them both breathing, until Jen finally speaks.
“Jared.” His tone is hard now, edged with incredulity. “What do you want me to do? Huh? Come on, man. You want, what? You want me to be your boyfriend? You want to take me home to your parents? Tell all our friends?”
Jared feels his face burn, feels queasy just at the thought. He’s been trying all this time not to think about that part, about what it would really mean, what it would cost, for both of them, to have Jensen for himself, but he can see it clearly now, right there in his face. No wife, no grandkids for his parents to dote on, no normal life. And honestly, he can’t even believe Jensen would think about that shit, much less say the words out loud, but it’s true, all of it.
Even if he thinks their friends would probably be cool with it eventually, that’s not the point.
“Of course not.”
“Exactly. So what are you so fucking pissed about? We can’t keep doing this Jay. You know we can’t keep doing this. I can’t not get married, you can’t not move on with your life, not date anyone new, just so we can keep fucking around, being roommates and never growing up. It had to end sometime, right? We both knew that.”
He knows Jensen’s right. Jared’s not gay, at least not totally. And even if he is, even if he’s fucking queer as a three dollar bill and even if he’s willing to tell the world all about it, Jensen is certainly never going down that road to hell with him. They’re not gonna have a relationship, they’re not gonna keep living here in this house together forever.
It had to end sometime. Jared doesn’t have to like it, but he has to accept it. He sighs, slumps down onto the end of Jensen’s bed.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, man, I just. I drank way too much.”
Jensen scoots closer, nudges him with a shoulder, and Jen’s voice is lighter now, consoling.
“I know, dude. No worries.”
He feels Jen’s hand on the back of his neck, squeezing lightly, and Jared has to close his eyes against the prickly sensation that’s suddenly there behind them.
“So what do we do now?”
He knows his voice sounds too thick, knows it sounds weak, but he can’t help it, he can’t. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and he hates it but he can’t make it stop.
“I don’t know man,” Jen whispers in the dark, so close it’s just not fucking fair. “I guess we make the most of it while we can.”
Jared blows out the breath he’s been holding, and when Jensen dips his head down, lets his forehead roll against Jared’s collar bone, it feels like a stay of execution.
*Gotta keep rockin’ while I still can. I got a two-pack habit and a motel tan.*
In February, Jared found a Wikipedia article listing the extreme geographic points of all the US States, and calculated how many miles it would take to get to all four points in Texas. The answer was over 2000, which for reasons Jensen is still unclear about seemed to cement Jared’s certainty about the superiority of Texas over all other states.
In April, he somehow convinced Jensen that they should make the trip, also for reasons that Jensen is still unclear about.
On Saturday morning of Memorial Day weekend they pack up the Escalade with enough gear for a trip at least three times the length of the one they’re actually making, and head to San Antonio. They stop at Jared’s parents house for lunch, strap his mom’s beat up old green canoe, the one she used in the Girl Scouts when she was a kid and which, from the looks of things, hasn’t moved from its spot in the Padalecki garage since then, to the top of the truck. Jared kisses his mom goodbye and they keep rolling South. They get into Brownsville around seven, pick up the keys to their room at the LaQuinta, then drive a few miles Southeast to a tiny place called, appropriately enough, South Point.
Jensen sits in the car, embarrassed, while Jared goes into a little convenience store to ask where they can access the river. It’s all private property along this stretch of the border, Jensen is sure there’s no way to the water, but of course because Jared is Jared the clerk draws a map on the back of the Lotto Texas ticket Jared bought just to be friendly, and they head back to Brownsville. It’s already getting dark, too late to go tonight, so they opt for dinner instead. They eat Mexican, of course, drink margaritas and eat tamales and chile rellenos on the patio of some tiny little family joint, Jensen chain smoking the whole time. They drive down by the river and look across at the lights of Matamoros.
They have two beds, but only use one.
On Sunday morning at daybreak, they park at the corner store in South Point, get coffee and kolaches and head out on foot. A thirty minute walk along a tractor path between two sorghum fields brings them to a stand of trees, and beyond that, the Rio Grande. Jared pulls out his fancy new gadget and checks their coordinates.
“We need to walk East, just a few hundred yards.”
“Wow, we’re really being serious about this huh?”
Jared takes another slug of his coffee and pulls his shades down against the rising sun.
“Gonna do it, buddy, might as well do it right.”
When they get to the right spot, Jared pulls out his camera and they huddle together, camera turned back towards them at arm’s length. It’s just their heads and shoulders in front of the muddy-brown trickle of river, but it seems good enough for Jared, so it’s good enough for Jensen.
= = = = =
They stick close to the border as they head West, drive up through Laredo, through Eagle Pass and Del Rio, watch the wide flat plains of the Gulf coast turn into rocky desert, rise into mountains. They detour through Marfa, stand on the viewing platform just past dusk and wait to see the Lights with ten or twelve other hopeful seekers, but the only things out there in the black night are headlights and stars. They finally pack it in, head South to Big Bend and camp in the park for a night, just to say they’ve done it.
They get into El Paso late on Monday, another LaQuinta with the same bedspreads, the same nondescript printed posters on the walls. They eat at the Denny’s across the parking lot, splash around in the pool ‘til well after the posted closing time, and call it a night.
Tuesday morning they drive a few miles North of town, find the place where the blacktop ends and park there, then walk West down a dirt road until Jared’s little gadget tells them to stop. They’re in between two empty fields, just waist-high sandy colored grass and a sandy brown road.
“Well, here we are.”
Jared’s grinning, like there’s anything to smile at out here. The sun beats down on them; the obligatory picture shows two red, sweaty faces, Jared’s hair plastered to his forehead and one unruly strand curling wet against his cheek.
They walk back to the car.
“That was exciting,” Jensen rolls his eyes as they close themselves back up in the hot truck, crank the AC.
Jared just keeps grinning and flips his shades down.
“Shut up, bitch. You know you liked it.”
= = = = =
They drive through Midland on Tuesday afternoon, but nobody mentions that they’ll be back six weeks from now for Jensen’s wedding. They leave the Western mountains and head for the Panhandle, onto the arid mesa of the Llano Estacado. They stop for the night in Lubbock, and Jared indulges Jensen while he tours them around his old stomping grounds. Jared actually acts like he cares, which Jensen appreciates, while Jensen’s pointing out the first dorm he lived in, the house where Casner lived where they had all those legendary Fiji house parties, the bar he was tossed out of for standing on a table and actually swinging from a wagon-wheel chandelier, the best pizza joint in town, the spot on campus where he once had to stand for four hours in a prom dress and tiara, waving to the passing students during Hell Week.
Jared throws his head back and cackles loud at that one.
“A tiara? Dude. Fraternities are so fucking weird.”
“Yeah.” Jensen shrugs, feels a little nostalgic. “Was a lot of bullshit, no doubt. But it was fun.”
Jared smirks, pokes him in the side.
“And I bet you were the prettiest one out of aaaaallll the pledges.”
They pass Grace Bible Church, a place Jensen only went one time, but he doesn’t point it out, or mention why he remembers it. Just looking at it, he can remember vividly what it looks like inside, remember exactly the guilt and loathing rumbling in his stomach the morning he walked through those doors.
Lying in bed with Jared later, sated and sweaty and peaceful, the irony isn’t lost on him. He just can’t muster up any guilt over the thing between them, can’t, for better or worse.
In the morning they take the Interstate up to Amarillo, then head up through Perryton to the Oklahoma line. There’s an actual sign by the side of the road on Highway 83; they pull off and take their picture in front of it, and that’s that. They drive back South to Wichita Falls, get there by five, sun still high in the sky.
They could go further, on into Ft. Worth at least, or stay for free in Dallas, but they’re bypassing the whole Metroplex by unspoken agreement, just seems easier that way. So they eat at another parking lot diner, lay by another motel pool, drink beer despite the clearly posted signs that say no glass containers or alcoholic beverages are permitted. Turns out no one seems to give a shit on a Wednesday evening with only three occupied rooms in the whole place. After dark, Jensen traipses back to the diner to buy a fresh pack from the vending machine out front.
“You’re sure smoking a lot lately,” Jared observes from his position, prone and shirtless on the bed, still wearing his damp swim trunks.
Jensen snorts, looks pointedly at the half-burned joint in the ashtray on the bedside table.
“I could say the same for you, champ.”
Jared just shakes his head, unconvinced.
“No seriously. I think your filthy habit is escalating.”
Jensen just props the door open and steps out into the breezeway to continue his filthy habit in peace.
He hasn’t mentioned to Jared how he promised Amy he’d quit before the wedding. Not that quitting is a bad thing, of course it’s not. Of course it’s in his best interests to quit, he knows that, but still, here he is, chain smoking his way across Texas like some kid who thinks he’s getting away with something. It’s stupid, but as usual that doesn’t seem to stop him.
He’s trying hard not to think of this trip as a last hurrah. Last hurrah for smoking, last hurrah for being free and single, last hurrah for him and Jared being…whatever they are. He knows there’ll always be a him and Jared, that’s not going anywhere, no matter what, but it’s all going to have to change. It’s going to be totally different, after this; no living together, no seeing each other every day. No other stuff either.
He wonders if all guys feel this way before they get married, wonders if this is just the usual bout of cold feet that everyone goes through. He lights another cigarette and relishes the burn in his lungs, tells himself that’s all it is and mostly believes it.
= = = = =
The Easternmost point in the state of Texas is in the midst of a completely uninhabited area of the Piney Woods on the Sabine River, and getting to it is a real pain in Jensen’s ass.
They stay Thursday night in Jasper, a town known for absolutely nothing save a horrifying and gruesome murder, and that’s strike one as far as Jensen’s concerned.
Strike two is the woods themselves, the way they make everything feel all closed in and claustrophobic. Jensen grew up on the high plains; he likes wide open spaces and a clear view of the horizon, not eight hundred foot tall pine trees packed so tight you can barely walk between them, stretching for miles in every direction.
Strike three is the fact that this is where the canoe comes in.
Jensen had one unfortunate incident with a canoe, at Camp Grady Spruce in Fifth Grade, and that was all the canoeing he needed for a lifetime, thanks. But this is Jared’s deal and he agreed to come along for the ride, so he’s trying to keep the snarky comments to a minimum.
Friday morning they drive out Highway 63 East, to the bridge where it crosses the Sabine and becomes Louisiana State Highway 8. They pull off by the side of the road, untie the canoe, and carry it down the steep embankment. It takes awhile to find a place they can actually get the canoe in and out, but eventually they manage to get themselves out on the water without anyone drowning or being strangled. Jensen feels like he’s in Deliverance.
They paddle downstream until Jared announces that they found it, manage to work their way over to the side, close enough that Jensen can jam his paddle down into the muddy bank and hold them there while Jared gets his damn camera out. The look on Jensen’s face in the photo is not that of a happy camper, but Jared just laughs.
“You look like someone just forced you to canoe down a river in the middle of nowhere, against your will.”
Jensen can’t help grinning, a little.
“Go figure.”
“Have a cigarette, Smokey. ‘m sure that’ll cheer your ass right up.”
Jensen has a cigarette, but what’s really cheering him up is the thought of the nice hotel they sprang for in Houston tonight, and the fact that they’re dropping that canoe off in San Antonio tomorrow, and Jensen will never have to see it again.
*What y’all know about them Texas boys? Comin’ down in candy toys, smokin’ weed, talkin’ noise.*
There’s a leggy redhead in a sparkly, hot pink g-string and nothing else sliding around the pole in the middle of Jared’s table.
He’s not the best man, which doesn’t hurt too much, family is family even if Josh is not nearly as close to Jensen as Jared is. But another thing Josh is not is any fun at all. So as the self-appointed back-up best man, Jared did the right thing; he planned the bachelor party, he invited all Jensen’s frat brothers from Tech, all his high school friends, paid for the neon purple Hummer limo that picked them up from the Four Seasons downtown and drove them to the Yellow Rose. He’s sitting here and he’s drinking, he even ordered a round of shots for the party, even gave Jensen a handful of ones, told him to knock himself out. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
The bachelor party means the wedding is in a week. It also means Jensen leaves tomorrow to pick Amy up in Dallas, then the two of them are heading to Midland to prep for the big day. And when Jensen comes back in two weeks, after his honeymoon, it won’t be to their house on 35th. He and Amy already rented a townhouse in Round Rock while they look for a place to buy, and the movers are coming in a couple of days to take Jensen’s stuff to his new house. Jared is overseeing the whole fucking thing.
He knows he’s kind of being a dick, sulking at his best friend’s bachelor party, but Jensen’s too fucking drunk already, too fucking busy with the friends he hardly ever gets to see; he won’t even notice, and it’s not Jared’s fault that scotch always makes him so fucking depressed .
“Dude, what’s your problem?”
Jimbo’s chewing on a cigar, and he has a pair of plastic tits on his head. Vic was in charge of party favors.
“Mourning the loss of your husband to an actual woman?”
Jared manages a half assed grin.
“Nah. Amy’s got a killer rack. I never had a chance against those things.” He hopes his voice sounds more chipper than he feels.
“True enough, my man.”
The redhead finishes her number and puts a hand on Jared’s head to keep her balance as she steps off the table on her impossibly high heels. Jared’s feet hurt just looking at them.
Jimbo thanks her very sincerely, and tips his boob-hat gallantly as she passes.
“Dude, you couldn’t even thank the lady?”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“I thought we talked about you drinking Scotch.”
“I should know better.”
“So what’s up, big man. Tell Uncle Jimbo your troubles.”
He wiggles his eyebrows and puffs magnanimously on his cigar. Jared’s mind runs suddenly to what would happen if he really did tell Uncle Jimbo his troubles. It’s not a pretty picture. He sighs, shakes his head.
“I just. Ya know, Ackles getting married is fucking up my whole life.”
“Sure.” Jimbo nods, like this is a given.
“Everybody’s pairing up, and I don’t even have anyone, I mean. A girlfriend, or anything.”
“True.”
Jared groans and face plants on the table.
“Dude, come on. What about Scotty? He’ll never find a girlfriend, you’ll always have him.”
“Scotty can hear you, motherfucker!”
Jimbo shrugs in Scotty’s direction.
“The truth hurts, bitch.” He turns back to Jared.
“Upside - you’ve got your own place now, no roommate to cock block you.”
Jared snorts at the idea of Jensen being a cock block. That wasn’t exactly how it went.
“And if all else fails, there’s always hookers.”
Jared doesn’t bother lifting his head, just his middle finger. Jimbo laughs, claps a hand down on Jared’s shoulder.
“Nah, for real. It’s almost your birthday, all you gotta do is say the word.”
Jared manages to lift his head up, but only to give Jimbo a death glare over his crossed arms.
“How about let’s get you another drink, no more scotch. I’m thinking something fruity, with an umbrella?”
Jared just scowls, but he doesn’t say no.
= = = = =
The suite Jared rented at the Four Seasons is freaking awesome, as is the weed he procured from his old friend Sanjiv, who’s working at Dell with him now. Somehow some of the strippers ended up coming back to the hotel with them; he can’t be sure how or why, he just knows they’re half naked in the main room. He’s watching through the glass doors of the balcony, looking out at Town Lake and smoking out eighteen floors up, when Jensen wanders out.
Jared’s just buzzed enough that even Jensen can’t fuck up his mellow.
“The man of the hour.” He grins. “How’s it going in there?”
Jensen just shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Good Party, Jay.”
He doesn’t look as drunk, or has happy as Jared remembered from earlier.
“You aren’t convincing me.”
Jen smiles at that, leans back against the rail next to Jared.
“No seriously, it’s good. I appreciate it. If you left it up to Josh, God knows what would have happened.”
“Nothing, I’m guessing.” Jared smiles when he says it, hopes it doesn’t sound as catty out loud as it does in his head. He guesses it’s okay when Jen smiles back.
“I uh. I just kinda feel like going home, that’s all.”
“Dude. I got you this fucking bad ass suite and you want to go home?” Jared shakes his head, incredulous. “Just for that, I’m not sharing.”
Jensen holds out his hand.
“Give me that, jackass. I’m the man of the hour, remember?”
“Yeah.” Jared hands the joint over grudgingly. “Un-fucking-grateful bitch of the hour, more like.”
Jensen tokes and hands it back, holds on to it when Jared reaches for it, so their fingers brush. He looks Jared in the eye.
“Leaving tomorrow, you know? Last night in the house, just kinda wanted to spend it there.” He clears his throat and drops his eyes. Jared thinks he might be blushing.
“You and me, I mean.”
Jared just nods, chews on the inside of his cheek.
“You and me.” His face gives nothing away, and that’s by design. He’s not giving Jensen this one easy, not tonight.
Jen nods, shifts uncomfortably on his feet, and Jared’s glad; he feels a vindictive little spike in his gut, watching Jensen squirm for it.
“You and me, you know. Just. If you want to.”
If you want to. Yeah fucking right, Jared’s thinking, Jensen’s so fucking full of shit, acting like he doesn’t know better.
But then again, Jared’s full of shit too, standing here trying to be a hard ass, acting like maybe he’s not gonna go home with Jensen and take whatever he can fucking get until time runs out. It’s stupid, and it’s useless; it’s a waste of precious time.
Jared puts out the joint and pockets it, jerks his head toward the door.
“What about them?”
Jensen just shrugs.
“Couldn’t give a fuck less right now.”
Jared nods, pushes off the rail and stands up straight.
“Okay then. I’ll go get a cab. Tell them whatever you want, just meet me downstairs in 10.”
*When I said I do, well, I slammed all the doors.*
Jensen is in his own personal version of hell.
It’s day five in Midland, and he’s been surrounded by nothing but women and their wedding talk since he got here. If he hears anything else about flower arrangements, or center pieces, or dresses, he’s gonna claw his eyes out. It’s been too long of smiling, of being on his best behavior, of no cursing, no drinking, no fun and no fucking break. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it up before he cracks.
Amy slides up next to him on the couch where he’s been parked all morning, sitting there like some prized bull on display while people rush all around him. It seems pointless to him, all this chaos and commotion and fuss for 3 or 4 hours of his life, but Amy seems into it, so he’s playing along. She smiles at him, puts her chin on his shoulder.
“So how much are you hating this?”
He’s shocked into smiling back. The girl has a knack for reading him, he has to hand it to her.
“I’m not loving it, let’s put it that way.”
She nods, kisses his cheek.
“Only two more days, then we’re on our way to Maui.”
He breathes out slow.
“Two more days.”
“Why don’t you get out of here? Go watch basketball or something, get away from makeup tips and china patterns for a little while.”
He kisses her full on the mouth - once, twice, three times. He’s too grateful to mention that basketball season’s over.
“Thank you, thank you, seriously. Thank you.”
She just giggles and pushes him off.
“You’re welcome. I’m getting tired of looking at your grumpy face anyway.”
He walks out of the Hulsey’s house like he just got sprung from jail. Heads back to the hotel, relishing the silence, relishing being alone for a little while. That house with Amy and her sister and her mom and his mom, it was all just getting to be too much.
He takes a hot shower, turns the AC all the way down, and lies on the bed in his boxers.
He’s hasn’t talked to Jared all week, keeps telling himself he’s not a child and Jared’s not a security blanket, they can be apart for a few fucking days. Jared will be here tomorrow, along with everyone else, and Jensen can wait until then to talk to him.
Still.
The movers came yesterday, and he feels like he should at least check and make sure everything went okay. It’s the least he can do, after leaving Jared to deal with it all alone.
Jared answers on the first ring.
“Guess where I am.”
“How ‘bout I don’t guess, and you just tell me?”
“Chillin’ in my new room. Formerly known as your room. Dude, it’s awesome up here.”
Jensen hadn’t really thought about it, but of course it makes sense that Jared would move out of his tiny room downstairs, where there’s barely room to walk around the perimeter of his gigantic bed, and into the upstairs bedroom, with the extra space and the extra closets and the big, modern bathroom with the shower head he won’t have to duck to use.
Of course it makes sense, but Jensen still feels a weird pang of something he can’t identify, like the body isn’t even cold yet and Jared’s already moving on. He tries to shake it off.
“So everything went okay with the move, I take it?”
“Yeah man, they hauled your stuff out of here, moved my stuff where I wanted it. I let them in at the new place and tried to tell them where I thought shit went, but ya know. I’m sure I got it wrong.”
Jensen hears what he’s not saying, Amy will think I got it wrong, and frankly, he’s probably right, so Jensen lets it slide. Amy likes things how she likes them, that’s all. She’s not bitchy about it, she’s just. Particular.
“And I gave ‘em a nice big fat tip, as a token of your appreciation.”
Jensen left his credit card so Jared could pay the movers. He groans.
“How big and fat are we talkin’ here?”
“Nothin’ you can’t afford, money bags. And that goes for the dinner you bought me last night, too.”
“Wow, I’m so generous.”
“You were raised right, Ackles. Your mom should be proud.”
Jensen hangs up feeling better than he’s felt since he left Austin; yes, this week has sucked, but he’s almost home free. If he can just make it to Saturday night, everything will be okay.
= = = = =
The wedding is your typical small-town-Texas, fundamentalist affair. The place is packed to the gills; Amy’s family has been members of the congregation on both sides for generations, so it’s pretty much standing room only.
Jensen stands at the front with the minister, Josh and Jared and Vic and Martinez and Amy’s brother Wes all standing behind him, trying not to sweat through his tux and feeling profusely thankful for the flask of whiskey Jared pulled out of his jacket and slipped into Jensen’s hand before they walked out. The shot or two Jensen managed to swallow, Jared and Martinez forming a human screen between him and the rest of the people milling around in the side vestibule, that’s all that’s keeping his hands from shaking. He hates all the eyes on him, hates the scrutiny of being the center of attention, and all he’s got to hold on to is that it will all be over soon.
The Hulsey’s version of The Church of Christ doesn’t allow for instruments in the sanctuary, so when the doors open the choir sings O Perfect Love, and Mr. Hulsey walks Amy down the aisle. She’s stunning, she’s fucking glowing, and the smile Jensen gives her is big, and real.
He’s glad at least for the traditional wedding vows, for the comfort of well-known words and not having to come up with his own. His throat is dry, voice coming out thick and slow as it is; he’s not sure his spinning head could have remembered anything beyond the short phrases that he has to repeat. He kisses her when he’s told to, chaste and sweet, and the choir sings To God be the Glory on their way out.
They don’t have to go far. The fellowship hall at the church is serving fruit and cheese and finger sandwiches, sparkling cider and punch, and that’s it. There’s no bar, no band, no drinking or dancing, just a crowd of people Jensen mostly doesn’t know, a never ending line of well-wishers. Once that part’s over, it doesn’t last long. They cut the cake, take some pictures. Jensen changes out of his tux in the same Sunday School classroom where he changed into it, puts on some khakis and a button down shirt, shakes the hands of all his groomsmen, hugs his mom and dad and sister, and meets Amy in the front hallway. They hold hands and walk through the doors into a cloud of rose petals.
They’re flying to Dallas tonight, staying at the DFW Hyatt, and leaving for Maui in the morning; Jared is driving Jensen’s truck back to Austin tomorrow.
Josh drops them off at the Midland airport in a car with shoe polish on the windows and streamers fluttering from the bumper. He shakes Jensen’s hand and kisses Amy’s cheek, tells her welcome to the family, and drives away. And this is the moment Jensen’s been holding on for, been gritting it out for through the last week, the last months, really, when the wedding craze got to be too much. He kept telling himself, just make it through the day, through the rehearsal and the wedding and the reception. Just make it to the airport, and you’ll be fine.
They stand on the curb, just the two of them and their bags, a perfect picture of beautiful, newly wedded bliss.
Amy’s smiling up at him, reaching for his hand; Jensen’s still waiting for the relief to set in.
*The days are burning but I’m determined not to be undone
by everything that starts with promise and never comes.*
Jared is lying naked on his bed, smoking a joint and staring out the skylight of his new bedroom while some dude whose name he doesn’t remember - or maybe never got in the first place - is going down on his dick like it’s made of candy. He holds his breath and tells himself with no small degree of bitterness that it’s more, way more, than he ever got from Jensen.
It’s been five months since Jensen moved out of the house, two months since Jared’s actually laid eyes on him in person, and three weeks since they talked on the phone. It’s just about what Jared was expecting, this super-sonic drift from where they were to a place where they don’t even speak for weeks at a time, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t still suck, that he wasn’t still disappointed. For all he tried to brace himself for it ahead of time, to prepare for the inevitable, it still hurts like a bitch.
He’s trying to let it go, trying to just let it be what it’s gonna be and accept the way things are now, the way they’re gonna be from now on, but he’s not sure he’s being very successful. There’s still this sucking chest wound, the space Jensen used to take up, and nothing he does seems to make it go away. Not the random guys, not the random girls, not all the weed and booze in the fucking world.
He closes his eyes and concentrates, tries to imagine Jen’s plush pink lips around his cock. He used to fantasize about it all the time, thought maybe, just maybe someday, but now the idea is so ludicrous, so far removed from where they are that Jared feels weak, feels utterly pathetic even imagining it. He thinks of Tony Parker instead and figures he’s got a way better shot of making that shit happen than he ever would with Jensen, Eva or no Eva.
He doesn’t bother trying to push the guy off when he comes, but that seems to suit them both fine.
Jared shares his smoke with the kid, lets him pass out in the bed. In the morning Jared makes some excuse about having to be somewhere, hops in the shower and tells the kid to let himself out. When he comes out of the bathroom the guy is gone but his number is on a scrap of paper on the bed. Jared sighs and tosses it into the trashcan, goes downstairs to put the coffee on. He downs a handful of Advil that he doesn’t even bother to count - he’s big enough, it would take a whole fucking bottle to send him to the emergency room, he’s pretty sure - and seriously thinks about a beer instead of coffee, but tells himself he has to draw a fucking line somewhere. He drops two Eggos in the toaster and sits down at the table, puts his head down to shield his eyes from the glare of the morning sun.
He knows he can’t keep doing this shit, living drunk and high and inviting random, probably shady strangers into his house, rolling into work looking like he spent the night in an alley. He knows he has to stop, he’s just not sure what he should start doing instead.
= = = = =
“Dude. Guess what I did.”
“How ‘bout I don’t guess, and you just tell me.”
Jared squeezes a green rubber rabbit next to the phone, and it squeaks shrilly.
“Come on, guess.”
Jensen huffs a loud breath on the other end of the line.
“Got your very own rubber ducky, by the sounds of it.”
“Better.”
“Better than a rubber ducky? I dunno man, I’m stumped.”
“Here’s a hint: I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”
Jensen laughs.
“Fantastic. I can hardly wait, then.”
“I got a dog.”
Jensen’s quiet for a minute, and Jared knows he’s picturing claw marks on his hardwood floors, holes dug in his grass, but he recovers fast.
“That’s cool, man. I meant it’s gotta be lonely without me over there, and I know you always wanted one.”
Jared skips the lonely comment, he’s not about to touch that, but he gnaws on his lip a little before he responds.
“Yeah, about that. When I said I got a dog?”
“Yes?” Jensen’s tone gets deeper, like it does when he’s anticipating getting pissed, just waiting for someone to give him a reason. Jared’s pretty sure he’s about to give him a reason.
“More accurately? I got, um. Dogs.”
“Dogs. You got dogs? Shit Jay, how many are we talking about here?”
“Just two!”
“Oh, well. Just two. That’s almost like the no dogs you had last time I talked to you. Except you know, plus two extra dogs.”
Jared couldn’t help it, is the thing. He went to the SPCA up on 183, fully intending to adopt one dog, just one - just something to do besides get drunk and high and hook up with random strangers. Something to give his attention to now that he’s got all this extra, previously-devoted-to-hanging-out-with-Jensen time on his hands. But then Susan, the lady who was helping him, told him about Bubba and Sissy, the two rambunctious cuties in the last pen. They were found together as strays, roaming around out in the country all alone, and Susan said they were most likely brother and sister. They came in skinny and covered in fleas and ticks, half dead from heart worms, but they fought and they made it, both of them. Susan said the shelter had been waiting, trying to find someone to take them together, but she was afraid they were going to end up adopting them out separately. She said nobody wants two big dogs, especially two big, young dogs with the energy of puppies and a bad medical history.
Jared took them out in the yard in back and played with them, tossed a ball for them and watched them race each other to chase it down, over and over. He gave them treats and taught them both to sit in under ten minutes. He watched them splash around in the plastic kids’ pool in the corner of the yard, wrestling and yipping at each other, and he just couldn’t leave them there, blissfully unaware that their days together were numbered. He couldn’t. So he took them home, bought them a shit load of toys and treats - because if anyone ever deserved it, these guys do - and changed their names to Harley and Sadie, because he’s not having redneck dogs, okay.
Honestly, he didn’t really think about what Jensen would say. And when he does think about it, he figures, screw Jensen anyway. What’s he gonna do, throw Jared out of the house? Refuse to let him live there with his dogs? Make him pay a fucking pet deposit, now, after Jared’s been helping out around this place, working for free, taking care of things when Jensen’s not around, all these years?
Jared almost hopes Jensen does make a big fucking stink about it, because Jared’s got his righteous anger all queued up and ready to go.
But instead Jen just listens to Jared explain, and then sighs.
“God, you’re such a sucker dude, seriously.”
Jared has to laugh. It’s not what he was expecting.
“If by sucker you mean not cold and dead on the inside like you, then yes.”
“By sucker I pretty much just meant sucker.”
“Whatever. My dogs are awesome.”
“Just make sure your awesome dogs don’t tear up my awesome house, and we’re good.”
Jared promises, even though Harley may have already chewed up a small-to-moderately sized section of molding in the living room. Considering the fact that Jensen hasn’t stepped foot in the house in six months, Jared’s not too worried about racing out to fix it.
PART 4 < > PART 6
| MASTER POST | PART 5 LYRIC CREDITS |