[Slash] The Darkest Things I've Seen 1/7
Jared Padalecki was six years old when his daddy lost his mind. It happened during his second week of first grade some time before he ran home from the bus stop - picture made from Macaroni art clutched between his fingers. He was very proud of his creation and couldn’t wait to show it off so at first he didn’t smell the smoke.
The roses his Momma had been planting lay scattered across the grass. Which seemed a little odd to Jared, but that was just kind of his Momma. It seemed she was always doing something odd that made Jared smile; after all, she always stressed how important non- conformity was.
What Jared did notice - before the smoke, before his hand could reach out for the doorknob and consequently get burned - was his older brother, sitting beneath the willow tree in the neighbors yard.
“Hey Jeff!” Jared called, walking away from the front porch and towards the chain link fence separating the two yards. “Whatcha doin’ over there? Ol’ Miss. Hettinger is gonna beat your butt for being on her lawn!”
Jeff’s eyes were sad and he looked so pale that Jared almost thought he could see through him but that was just kind of silly. “Don’t go in!” His brother whispered, only the words circled his head like a gust of wind.
“I don’t-“
“Jared,” His Momma appeared seemingly out of no where beside Jeff, navy blue sundress billowing around her.
“Hey Momma!” Jared began, a little hesitant because she was looking just as pale as Jeff and he’d never seen her eyes so sad before. Then he remembered the picture in his hand and held it up triumphantly, “Look what I made today! See that’s me! That’s you and there’s dad and I even made Jeff!”
“You need to go to Mr. Davis’ house son,” His Momma insisted, moving close to him.
Jared tilted his head curiously for a number of reasons. One - he only went to Mr. Davis’ for emergencies, like when Jeff fell out of a tree last summer and his parents had to take him to the hospital. Two - something was definitely burning and it burnt his nostrils now when he inhaled. And third - his Momma sort of glided across the ground; he was pretty positive her legs didn’t move.
“But Momma,” He said softly and fear began to crawl up inside him. Jared always tried to be his bravest - even when the nightlight burnt out and the shadows cast odd shapes on the floor - but something very unpleasant was happening and he just didn’t know what.
“You get going son,” His Dad appeared on the other side of Jeff. Only he wasn’t pale and gray like them. He was red, burning like fire. “Wouldn’t want you getting caught in the blaze.”
Jared turned to his house then and it was like taking off headphones. The sudden swell of wood snapping and tiny explosions popping made him reflexively reach up to cover his ears. His house was burning down.
Someone was wrapping real, solid arms around him, lifting him from the ground and carrying him away. He squirmed against them until finally he was set on the sidewalk across the street.
“Jared? Son, are you okay?” The voice belonged to Mr. Davis. But Jared didn’t feel much like talking.
Instead he gazed through glassy eyes into Miss Hettinger’s yard where the ghostly images of his family stood. His Momma and Jeff waved before his Dad wrapped arms tight around them and lead them into the fire.
~20 Years Later~
“Fuck Chris I have told you a million times,” Jensen Ackles slammed a fist down hard on the bar top, rattling the glasses surrounding him. “You pay the money, I supply the goods. Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean I’m givin’ the shit away.”
“You’re a dick, you know that right?” Chris growled though he pushed himself slightly out of the stool to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. “What the fuck am I supposed to tell Tommy when rent’s short?”
Jensen snorted, palming the two bills before tucking them into his jean pocket and pulling his book bag up into his lap, “The truth? You needed secrets to how the world runs but they came at a price.”
“Yeah, the fuckin’ roof over my head,” Chris mumbled into his lifted glass before taking a long pull.
Jensen only smiled in return, sliding two zip drives across the glossed surface, “Now listen, this shit’s important. You use the blue one first. Access codes and overrides are in alphabetically marked folders. Make sure you erase any folder starting with 69 before uploading the green one okay?”
Chris arched an eyebrow, fingers closing around the devices, “69?”
“Thought you’d enjoy that,” Jensen grinned mischievously, index finger moving to push up the wire framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Do it right dude or your computer will be fried. Either that or it’ll be wide open for hackers and you’ll have a whole lot of company you sure aren’t ready for.”
“Fuck, this better be worth it,” Chris gestured for the bartender before turning to stare out at the club’s patronage. It was definitely a slow night and Chris suspected they’d better leave soon before his reputation took a hit. “You comin’ back to mine? Steve got some fine ass shit, you look like you could use a toke or two.”
“Nah, I got my own,” Jensen pushed from the bar stool, leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter. “’Sides, I promised Mike I’d get that program to him tomorrow. Plus there’s this auction I’ve had my eye on. Ends tonight.”
“Oh yeah? More collectable lunch boxes?” Chris chuckled, downed the new beer the bartender had just brought him in one long pull before rising as well. “What’s this one? Backstreet Boys or N’SYNC?”
“Fuck you,” Jensen retorted, smile widening across his lips.
A loud groan left Chris’ lips as he dropped his own money by the empty glasses, “Shit don’t tell me. Hanson?”
Rolling his eyes Jensen made for the door, holding it open for Chris to follow him out, “Damn Kane, you just ruined your surprise birthday gift.”
“Aw fuck,” Chris shook his head, grinning wide and slapping Jensen on the shoulder before turning and starting off down the street, calling over his shoulder. “See you soon Jenny, don’t be a stranger.”
“Don’t forget 69!” Jensen called after him, several passers by turning to them with wide eyes.
Chris merely flipped him the bird before turning the corner and disappearing out of sight.
For the most part Jensen enjoyed the walk to his one bedroom apartment from the bar he most often frequented. He’d lived in the city for so long he knew all the back routes that were safe and all the ways to make a hasty exit if you happened upon something you shouldn’t be seeing.
But generally the streets were empty, especially at this time of night when any average person was home asleep, and any socializing person was holed up indoors.
So mostly Jensen allowed his mind to wonder during these times, imagining programs and overrides, passwords that change every sixty seconds for ultimate protection. It made him smile and he didn’t notice the long pair of legs stretched out across the alley until he tripped over them.
It was almost reflex to tense and he hastily pushed himself up from the slightly damp concrete, turning to see whoever he’d presumably pissed off, apology hanging on his tongue, “Dude, I’m- whoa.”
The man in front of him stared with bright hazel eyes, hands hovering over a pair of large head phones, “You’re alone.”
“Well um… yeah?” Jensen stepped back, thinking now might be one of those times to make a very quick exit.
The man blinked rapidly for several long moments, pulling off the headset and taking a large step forward, “So normal… no death. No… them.”
Yeah, Jensen was really thinking a hasty exit was a fantastic idea. Only then the giant of a man fainted, collapsing by his feet and Jensen can’t bring himself to just leave him there.
So he pulled out his cell phone and called Chad, the guy who lives next door. “What?” The man answered, sounding a little less then drunk so he may be of use yet.
“I need a hand. I’m two blocks from the building behind the 7-11 and my um… friend… passed out. Come help me lug him home.”
“What’s in it for me?” Chad asked which really wasn’t too surprising on his part.
“A free dime bag douche, now c’mon,” Jensen snapped the phone closed before Chad could try for more free stuff. Chad was pretty much always hard up for cash so anything with the word ‘free’ attached generally had him salivating and he’d normally push the offer as far as possible.
Sure enough, less then ten minutes later Chad was making his way down the alley. He stopped in front of the passed out man, eyeing him suspiciously. “Shit Jensen, I didn’t realize your sex life was so bad you’re resorting to date rape now.”
“Shut up Murray or it’ll only be a nickel,” Jensen retorted easily, bending at the waist to grasp one of the man’s arms. “Help me get him up.”
With a lot of panting and huffing they managed to pull the guy up - who vaguely came too, at least enough to put one foot in front of the other and allow them to lead the way. He was at least five or so inches taller then Jensen, and gangly, like maybe he never eats a full meal.
When they finally made it into Jensen’s apartment they deposited him on the couch. His feet dangled off the edge and he fell back into the coma-like state. Jensen got rid of Chad by handing over a premeasured bag - not bothering to weigh it even though Chad attempts to with his eyes. Jensen didn’t short people and Chad knew it so he left with a shrug.
He considered the man on the couch for several long minutes. Generally he’s a pretty smart guy - he did graduate from MIT after all - so he knew that bringing a random stranger into your house - who may or may not be crazy - was not a smart idea.
It’s just, those eyes looked so lost and that face was screaming pain and there was something else, a strange shift in the air around him that Jensen couldn’t resist. His curiosity was just too great.
So he laid a blanket over the lengthy form and moved to the computer desk to begin work on Mike’s program.
*
The end of the long hallway was on fire and his Momma was running toward it. He watched with wide panicked eyes, desperately wanting to call out to stop her, only a hand gripped firmly over his lips and he couldn’t move.
Looking up, he met the angry eyes of his father, “Not for you son.”
Then walls turned red and his brother’s voice singing ‘One Tin Solider’ echoed from invisible speakers, “Do it in the name of heaven, you can justify in the end.”
Jared didn’t understand and he wished someone would explain it to him because the walls were crumbling and his family was vanishing. And the fire is circling around him but it won’t come any closer, it won’t take him though that’s what he wants more then anything.
He was running now, from pale barely visible people that never leave him alone. Spiders crawl up the walls that are shrinking and even though Jared’s only six years old he’s suddenly too big for everything around him. Because he was not six anymore, he was all grown and he was all alone.
Then there are green eyes and he’s awake.
*
“I didn’t break it!” Jensen jerked up in his computer chair, scrubbing a hand over his dry eyes. He looked around through the fuzzy haze of his desk until he spotted his glasses to the left of the keyboard and pulled them on, spinning to face the yelp that had come from the couch. “Shit dude. You okay?”
“Jared,” The tall man said, eyes watering slightly as he stood.
“No. Jensen,” He said before it occurred to him that maybe the guy didn’t like being called dude so he was just correcting him. “Oh right. You’re Jared.”
“Jensen,” Jared repeated, voice level with not a hint of emotion.
Jensen stared at him in confusion. It was really starting to look a lot more like Jared was crazy and therefore having him around was probably not a good idea. He just wasn’t exactly sure how to go about kicking him out. Don’t get him wrong, he had plenty of experience with awkward morning afters but somehow it’s easier to kick someone out when you’ve had your dick up their ass the night before.
“So um,” He was not very good with people outside his usual circle of friends, and he has pretty much known all of them for half his life. It’s the reason he never had a single relationship ever - unless you count that Jason guy he actively fucked for about two weeks, which he didn’t. “Coffee?”
“I eat pears.”
“Alright…” Jensen pushed back from his computer desk and walked the short distance through the living room into the kitchen. “I uh, I’ve got bananas?”
“Pears,” Jared corrected, keeping his eyes trained on him.
The urge to open his door and kick the guy out flat on his ass grew, “Right. I have no pears. Do you want a banana?”
Tears curved up along the rims of Jared’s eyes making them shine in the light of the living room, “I’m sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t- but then you didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Whoa Jared, hey calm down,” Jensen took a few hesitant steps forward, fingers curling around the cell phone in his pocket just incase the guy full out lost it and he needed to dial 911. Maybe he could scream and maybe Chad might be sober enough to actually hear it.
“There’s blades and you’re mad. It’s red and I’m sorry,” Jared continued murmuring to himself though his voice dropped below a whisper and he pulled his headset up over his ears, dropping down onto the couch and rocking back and forth.
Now Jensen’s mom had raised him with basic rules of social etiquette and though he’d lost most of them in his twenty-nine years on this planet, the one about not staring always stuck with him. Until now that is. Now he can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the giant of a man who’s nearly folded in on himself.
There was very little that Jensen couldn’t handle. He’s been almost mugged three times, had his computer hacked more then a dozen times, and he couldn’t even begin to count how often his life had been put into one of his friend’s hands when he’d drank and smoked too much. Only now he couldn’t stop staring at Jared and he had no fucking idea what to do.
Grabbing his coat he made the executive decision to hit up that market four blocks over and buy some pears because Jared was looking so pathetically sad his heart just couldn’t handle it anymore. “Hey I’m gonna go get some pears okay? I’m not mad. I’ll be back in ten minutes, I swear.”
He was not completely sure Jared’s heard him, but he pockets his wallet regardless and made for the front door, only hesitating slightly when he thought about leaving the guy alone in his apartment. Just cause the guy’s definitely crazy doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to destroy the place or anything and his computer’s pretty securely password protected so ten minutes should be okay.
Halfway down the second flight of stairs he stopped because the voice of a guy down the hall, talking to a lady with her door barely propped open, caught his attention, “No I’m sorry, you really have to go.”
“Please ma’am just, if you see him, he’s about 6’5”, fairly skinny. He probably won’t answer to you but his name is Jared-“
“Right,” The lady cut him off by shutting the door sharply in his face.
Jensen considered the man for a long moment. He seemed pretty decent, short brown hair spiked casually - probably naturally - just the faintest trace of stubble but not in a creepy-guy-you’d-meet-in-an-deserted-parking-lot-and-run-for-you-life-from stubble. Plus, Jared’s obviously not getting any more sane, “’Scuse me, you lookin’ for Jared?”
He spun toward him, crossing the hallway in five long steps, “Yes. You’ve seen him?”
“Somethin’ like that,” Jensen nodded and turned around to walk back up the stairs. “He passed out in front of me last night. My friend and I helped him back to my place and he crashed on the couch.”
“Fuckin’ Jared,” The guy sighed, following him up the steps.
“Yeah, he uh, kinda lost it a little,” Jensen tried for casual, not sure what this person knew about Jared or if this insanity thing was a recent issue. “Something about a pear?”
“It’s a security thing,” He stated simply, but his pace quickened just a fraction. “He’s probably really thrown. Jared doesn’t do well in new environments.”
“So you’re his, what… care giver?”
“Kind of. I’m Misha Collins by the way…” The way he dragged out the end of the sentence was like a question and Jensen turned to him with a casual smile, holding out a hand.
“Jensen Ackles.”
They shook hands briefly before continuing down the hall, stopping at Jensen’s front door where he pulled out his keys. He hesitated halfway through turning the lock, “Can I… what’s wrong with him?”
Misha’s face was somewhere between uncomfortable and resigned, like he knew this question was just around the corner. Of course if he spent any time at all with Jared - which he obviously did - then he would know why anyone else would be curious.
“Jared’s just…” Misha shrugged as if that might explain it all and pushed a hand up through his hair. It shifted back into its casual spikiness, confirming the natural thing. “He had a rough childhood and sometimes things just don’t work right in his mind. It’s really not my place to explain, you know?”
Jensen didn’t quite understand whose place it would be to explain if not the man’s care giver, but decided not to push the issue. He had no reason to be nosey, really. Jared would leave with Misha and he could chalk this whole night up to bizarre karma for not hanging out with Chris and the crew.
So he nodded once and turned the key the rest of the way, pushing the door open and stepping inside. He was not really that surprised to see Jared still sitting on the couch. Only now he was scribbling frantically over a piece of computer paper he’d obviously taken from the printer tray. The paper already had several dark holes in it, pressing through against the fabric of his denims.
“Jared,” Misha pushed past him, quickly crossing to the couch and reaching a hand out to lay it gently on the man’s shoulder.
His head turned up and his eyes widened for just a moment before he pushed back the headset, standing and wrapping long arms around the shorter man, “Misha! I lost you!”
Misha chuckled low and Jensen watched the look of sheer relief filter across his features, hand running soothingly up along the curve of Jared’s back. “Nah Jay, I’m pretty sure I lost you. But seriously man, you know not to leave the apartment.”
“Lexis was there and the walls were breathing. It hurt my head and I-“ He stopped suddenly as he pulled back and looked over at Jensen who was oddly rooted to the spot. “Jensen.”
“Right,” Misha looked from Jared to Jensen and back. “Jensen was very nice to let you stay here. I hope you said thank you.”
“But there’s none… he’s got no one. He’s all alone!” Jared gave a near hysterical laugh and planted both hands heavily down onto Misha’s shoulders. “Do you hear me?”
Something significant passed between them and Jensen raised a curious eyebrow. It was a little scary, Jared saying he was all alone. He had said it the night before too - back when Jensen thought he might just be a little drunk. Now it made his heart thump in a weird way and he cleared his throat, “What do you mean I’m all alone?”
Jared turned back to him and stepped forward, holding both hands out in front of him, “They follow almost everyone and they whisper things to me. Everyone’s got ‘em. You can’t fight ‘em. But you’re alone. No one’s alone. Misha maybe. I made Misha’s go away. Not yours. And your walls are free. This place is clean.”
Jensen cast a look around the small stack of trash by the kitchen, larger pile of clothes peaking out behind the couch, computer desk overflowing with blank CDs and cords. It was safe to say Jared didn’t mean his place is literally clean. Blinking a few more times he turned to Misha, “Dude?”
“Uh, Jay, maybe we should go home,” Misha moved forward hesitantly and Jensen could see the strange light in his eyes just like Jared’s. Whatever the tall man was going on about obviously meant something to Misha.
Jared turned to him with a sad pout, stuffing large hands into his pockets, “Pear?”
“Yeah, we’ll get a pear,” Misha nodded and looped his hand inside Jared’s arm. “Thanks again Jensen, sorry for um… well you know.”
Jensen could only nod a little dumbfounded and watched them walk to the front door. They were almost through before his voice returned, “Wait! I can’t… you’re really not going to explain this to me?”
“I can’t,” Misha shrugged helplessly, eyeing Jared who was already slipping a headset over his ears.
He stopped though when Jensen’s eyes fixed on his back. Slowly he turned back to Jensen, eyes shinning again with whatever it was that nagged at some unnamed part of Jensen’s mind. In less then a heartbeat the man crossed the short hallway, cupped a hand behind Jensen’s neck and pulled forward.
Soft lips sealed against his - dry and chapped with morning - pressed with more force then necessary. Jensen’s arms hung in limp surprise at his sides and Jared stepped back, releasing all contact. For a long breath they simply stood there, eyes locked, world fading around them.
Then Jared’s face split into the widest, brightest, toothiest grin Jensen had ever seen and the air around him tingled with heat.
“Bye Jensen.”
Jared turned, pulled on his headset, and walked out the door before Jensen remembered to breathe. Misha was staring with wide shocked eyes, mouth slightly open.
“Misha…” Jared’s voice echoed in from the hallway.
He continued to stare for a beat longer before giving just the slightest shrug of his left shoulder and turned to follow Jared out into the hall.
*
Jared munched happily on his pear, staring at the speckled pattern across its green surface. If he tilted it just to the right he could see the moon. A hand caressed his arm and he smiled over at Misha. Behind the dark hair line he could see the passing street and he vaguely remembered that they were in a taxi cab. It was better to drive during the day because there were too many people along the sidewalk.
“Jay,” Misha pushed the headset gently and Jared returned his attention back to his friend. “What were you thinking last night?”
“Last night…” Jared bit his bottom lip, turning from Misha to the front. Someone red sat in the front seat, a sticky sort of substance dripping from the wide gash in her neck and he couldn’t stifle a shiver.
There was a sigh beside him and Misha cupped his wrist gently, “Jared, look at me.”
Tears spiked along Jared’s eyes and he had to force himself to turn away from the sight, “Blood. Cuts and scars and god it hurts.”
“I know,” Misha ran a hand soothingly through his hair and Jared leaned into the touch, focusing on the peace his friend provided.
“I’m sorry. Last night with Lexis. Did I hurt her?”
“She just doesn’t understand yet. I think you confused her is all. What exactly happened? What did she say?”
“Don’t be angry with her. Lexis is sweet. I- she’s like roses yeah? And I’m kinda thorns. But it’s sad. She’s got several and they circle her. Great tragedies?” Jared rested his head against Misha’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “Everything just got dark so I needed air. Didn’t mean to walk so far but I lost my way.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Misha reassured, circling his arm tightly around Jared’s shoulder. “We’ll explain it to Lexis and she’ll be okay, but Jared, maybe we should tell her what’s going on? It’ll help.”
Everything in Jared tensed and he jerked back against the taxi door, “I can’t. No. Black. Black. Can’t.”
“Okay, okay Jared it’s okay,” Misha reached out, pulling Jared back to him. “We won’t tell. I know it scares you.”
“It’s just what they…” Jared trailed off but he didn’t need to finish the thought for Misha to know what he was talking about. He remembered it all really well.
~6 Years Ago~
“Don’t even try it fuckin’ douche, I will kick. Your. Ass,” Misha laughed, shoving his friend hard.
“A fuckin’ baby could kick your ass Collins, no threat in the slightest.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Misha shook his head, casting a final wave over his shoulder as he turned left down the alley toward his apartment.
The sun was just finishing it’s dip beneath the horizon and the shadows of the alley stretched long and ghost like. Street lights were just beginning to flicker on and Misha tucked his hand in the pockets of his jeans as he walked. Whistling the theme song to Star Wars because it was the easiest and most entertaining.
Something crackled up ahead and his whistle wavered slightly as he squinted into the mostly darkness and tried to make sense of the moving shape, “Hello?” He called carefully.
“Can’t take the noise. Can’t breath. Can’t see. Can’t. Can’t,” The form chanted, rocking back and forth against the garbage.
Misha had never seen such a sad sight, thin form curled in on itself, knees pulled up to his chest, “Hey… hey, are you okay?” He moved towards him, hand reaching out.
Bright, glassy hazel eyes looked up at him, blinking slowly, “Your mom died.”
He recoiled with a sharp hiss, eyes wide, “Excuse me?”
“Death and red. You’re angry.” Tears finally spilled down along his cheeks and he crawled forward on dirt covered hands. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”
“Well um, it’s okay…” Misha watched him with raised eyebrows, taking in the thin form shifting in clothes that almost swallowed him. He made up his mind in that moment, stepping forward and bending to curve an arm under the boney chest and lift up. “Let’s get you back to my place.”
“Car crash,” His head dipped into the curve of Misha’s neck as they made slow progress down the alleyway. “Quick. Quick though.”
Misha tried not to consider the meaning behind those words, or how freaky it was that this complete stranger seemed to know not only that his mother was dead but how she died as well, “What’s your name?”
“She misses you. Like purple,” He jerked back and locked eyes. “She’s proud. Of you. Misha. Your mom is.”
He wasn’t completely sure how to describe the feeling tugging at his heart and a fairly large part of him screamed to push the boy back and run. A much smaller part that wanted to believe the wide innocence in those hazel eyes won out, “You can really see my mom.”
“She’s gone now. White nothing. Just wanted you to know.”
His heart clenched almost painfully and it took him somewhere around five minutes to muster the energy for coherency. Finally he managed to spit out, “Who are you?”
“Jared Padalecki.”
It worked to kick start his brain again and he looped a hand across Jared’s waist. “Alright Jared Padalecki, let’s get you fixed up.” He resigned himself to Jared’s possible insanity and led him the rest of the way down the alley.
Three weeks passed before Jared’s sentences contained less colors and more logical phrases - or as logical as it seemed Jared would ever get. The first week was spent slowly building up the man’s diet. Misha didn’t even want to know how very little Jared had been eating, considering the first time he tried anything of substance he couldn’t keep it down.
By the third week a somewhat healthy glow was starting to spread across his cheeks. Misha doubted he’d ever fill out in the way his height was meant for but eventually he wouldn’t be skin and bones, so that was something.
Any time he attempted to get personal information from Jared, he would shut down. Misha learned during these times that when panic began to rise up in the man the rambling and comparing things to colors tended to creep back into his phrases. Sometimes it was easy to calm him down, other times he’d lock himself away in the guest room, pull the blanket over his head and rock back and forth for hours.
It took Misha three months to get Jared to talk about where he’d been before the alley that night. Turned out it was mostly nowhere.
“I was in a home, like an orphanage, until I turned eighteen. Then they kicked me out. So I left and lived just… here. Not here. But there. Around, you know?” Jared shrugged casually, leaning against Misha’s side. It made bile rise up along the back of Misha’s throat, knowing how cruel people could be.
For the first few weeks after Jared’s arrival, there’d been several half attempts at arm touches and hugs, all of which Jared had awkwardly jerked back from, eyes wide with worry. Around his fifth week - when he’d been crying late at night under the covers - Misha had crawled onto the bed beside him and held him tightly. After that Jared no longer moved from any touch, even initiating it when things got too overwhelming, and then just because he could.
Misha had a theory that Jared was extremely starved for attention. It turned out to be true and any time Jared mentioned the orphanage - however offhandedly - anger boiled up in him.
Four years after Jared entered his world, four years spent learning his quirks and oddities and how to help or prevent them, Jared finally confided the story that started the entire downfall of his life. Misha listened to him explain the death of his family, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he could only hold him and try not to imagine what it would feel like to be so young and so alone.
After six years together Misha didn’t think he could imagine a life without Jared. Even if it meant keeping any sort of relationship going was nigh impossible. It turned out to be a lot harder to explain a semi-crazy roommate to potential girlfriends than he’d first expected.
But Jared was worth it, so Misha figured he could survive off miscellaneous one night stands until the right girl came around, even if they occasionally ended in Jared knocking on the door and asking them to stop because the ground was shaking and the walls were glowing neon pink. It earned him some pretty entertaining looks, which made up for being left high and dry or jerking off alone in the shower.
*
Jensen starred at the ceiling for three long hours after Jared left with Misha before he began to accept the fact that he would be getting no more sleep. It wasn’t as if the kiss had been anything spectacular, all dry and parched and just lips against lips with no movement, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.
He couldn’t get Jared out of his head was what it all boiled down too.
There are about a million reasons he should’ve let the memory of the man fade. The first, and probably most significant, is the fact that Jared was obviously not all there. Jensen had a hard enough time looking after himself; he couldn’t be expected to keep an eye on a boyfriend too.
Not that he had started thinking of Jared in potential boyfriend terms. Seriously, he didn’t even know where Jared lived, or his phone number, or if he was even with it enough to think of things in a sexual nature. Misha had looked pretty shocked after the whole kiss thing.
“Fuck,” He growled, yanking the pillow out from beneath his head to use for self suffocation.
When the phone rang in the next minute he gladly welcomed the distraction. His brain was operating on overload. Chris’ name flashed across the caller ID and he answered with a clipped, “What fucker?”
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” Chris responded in the worse Irish accent Jensen had ever heard.
“It’s after two idiot.”
“Well, you know, when in Rome.”
Jensen rolled out of bed, stumbling into the kitchen to flip on the coffee pot, “Doesn’t that only work if you’re in the place? For instance, Ireland?” Opening the fridge he pulled out a Red Bull and downed half the can in one large pull.
“We’re eatin’ at Bennigan’s,” Chris explained and Jensen could just make out Mike singing horribly in the background.
“Did you guys let Mike near the Vodka again?”
“Fuck the Vodka! We’re high as Mount Timbuktu!”
“Mount Everest.”
“That too,” There was a long pause in which Jensen could hear loud slurping, obviously the Vodka’s not that far off. “Join us fucker!”
Jensen weighed his options. He could stay home, pretend to do really important stuff but mostly consume himself with thoughts of Jared. Or he could go get wasted and stoned with his friend’s and most likely really regret it the next morning.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” He hung up on Chris’ cheer and finished his Red Bull in one final pull.
Jensen showed up twenty five minutes later - having made the executive decision a shower was desperately needed - Chad in tow because he’d ran into him in the hallway and Chris and Mike took great pleasure in fucking him up and making him do ridiculous things. Like drink strange concoctions they’d made from all the condiments in their fridge or take off his pants so they could shave designs in his leg hair. Then there was the one time with the candle wax and Chad’s ass but the memory still made Jensen slightly nauseous so he tried not to picture it.
Generally having Chad around made for a more entertaining evening and Jensen figured he could use all the help he could get in erasing Jared from his mind.
“Jenny my love!” Mike called in greeting, falling out of the chair and stumbling over to throw an arm around Jensen shoulder. “My sun! My moon! How do I survive without me.”
“Get off,” Jensen shoved him, sliding onto a chair beside Tom and filling the empty glass in front of him with beer from the pitcher sitting in the center of the table. “Where’s Chris and Steve?”
“Left just after he called,” Tom shrugged.
“Said they had to go see a man about a thing,” Mike pushed Chad into the seat beside him, automatically pouring him a beer.
Jensen arched an eyebrow over his glass, clearing his throat, “You know that means they’re probably fucking in your van right?”
“I know. Finally got that wireless video recorder set up. Ultimate blackmail baby.”
Chad snorted into his beer, foam spraying up around him along his cheeks, “Whatever. You just want to use it to jack off.”
“Aw and to think, Chad, I was going to burn you a copy!” Mike slapped him hard on the back. Chad flushed, opening his mouth to protest, but Mike continued on before he could. “Have you heard the noises Chris makes? This is probably the best idea I’ve ever had.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Tom chuckled low in his throat.
“What happened with tall, drunk and comatose, Jensen?” Chad asked, leaning back a little as Mike refilled his beer. He was pretty used to letting Mike or Chris provide his drinks, never seemed to question why. It just proved Jensen’s theory that some wires weren’t connected right in Chad’s brain, it’s the only explanation as to why he had yet to realize the men always made an idiot out of him.
That or he really didn’t mind being the brunt of most of the group’s jokes.
“Just drink your beer,” Jensen hissed but it was too late, the damage was done and he flinched as a heavy arm fell across his shoulder.
“Jenny! You brought home a boy! Wherever did you find him?” Chris plopped into the seat beside him, snatching up the beer in Jensen’s fingers and pulling it forward to take a long swig.
“You reek,” Jensen scrunched up his nose, pushed his chair further away from Chris after he’d grabbed back his beer. “Sex is not a good smell for you.”
“It’s the best smell,” Steve protested.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of the whole bringing a boy home business. Details Jenny, cough ‘em up,” Chris smirked, wrapping an arm tight around Steve and pulling him flush against his side.
“He was just some guy, passed out in the alley behind the 7-11. Chad and I helped him back to my place where he slept on the couch. End of story.”
“And this morning?”
“And nothing,” Jensen shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he could even begin to explain the oddity that was Jared even if he wanted too. But then he figured it was just going to drive him crazy until he put it out there for examination so he told them everything in full detail, down to Misha’s random appearance the floor below and how rough Jared’s lips had felt against his own.
When he finished every guy at the table was staring at him, jaws slightly slack. It occurred to him now - a little late obviously - that telling every detail about Jared was dooming the entire relationship. One that he didn’t really want anyway so it was okay he supposed.
“Did he really tell you that you were all alone?” Tom quirked an eyebrow.
“Yeah but I don’t think he meant it in the way it sounds.”
“Shit boy you need to get laid,” Chris shook his head, reaching across the table to shove Chad. “Go get another pitcher of beer bitch.”
“Asswipe,” Chad grumbled as he slid from the seat and only slightly stumbled to the bar.
“What does that have to do with…” Jensen’s eyes sharpened. “I get laid.”
Mike chuckled, downing the rest of his beer. “Right, yeah you get laid all the time.”
“I got laid just last week!”
“Dude, getting a blow job in the back of shitty bar from some guy who’s got a wife sitting at home is not getting laid. It’s being desperate. Whens the last time you brought someone home and fucked them?”
“I really don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“It’s been at least six months,” Chad informed, dropping back in his chair after refilling his drink and setting the pitcher beside the empty ones.
They all turned to stare at Chad now - who flushed brightly when he realized saying that was not a straight proving fact, “Dude, he lives next door and screams like a banshee during sex. Give me a break.”
Steve turned to Jensen, “You might want to look into a restraining order.”
“How could that possibly work?” Chad huffed, finishing his beer before pouring himself another one.
They chose to ignore him and Mike waved a finger in Jensen’s general direction, “Point is this. You’ve got some obvious obsession with this Jared freak right? You’ve been moonin’ over him all night and he’s not even here. Either you find the guy and fuck him, get him out of your system or get someone else. Either way you gotta get laid ‘cause it’s startin’ to affect your thought process.”
“Damn aren’t you the romantic?” Tom shook his head and stood from the chair. “I’ve got a date but,” He moved to Jensen’s side and laid a hand across his shoulder. “Don’t listen to them okay? If you want a relationship with this guy, even if you think he’s a little crazy, there’s nothing wrong with getting to know him. You should look him up. Misha’s a weird name, I’m sure they’ve got to be listed somewhere. You’re the best computer hacker I know.”
Jensen grinned at him as his hand ruffled up in Tom’s hair. “Gee thanks Tommy.” He teased, “Hot date tonight?”
“Hell yeah,” Tom grinned back, slapping Mike on the back of the head and saying, “Don’t be such a douche,” before casting them a final wave and walking out of the bar.
“Let’s go,” Steve stood. “I’ve got some really great shit at home and this beer is getting stale.”
They all rose from the table and Chad ended up paying most of the tab, but he was already swaying and grinning at the idea of good weed so he didn’t seem to mind too much.
As they made their way out into the night - Mike shoving Chad ahead to watch him fumble with unlocking the van, Chris and Steve lagging behind to share a long, wet kiss - Jensen couldn’t help thinking about what Tom said. He’s never had a boyfriend, never cared about having one and he just couldn’t figure out why it should matter now.
“God I’m fucked,” Jensen hissed, fist clenched to his sides.
“Not nearly enough,” Chris pointed out as he dragged Steve past him, hands clenched together.
Part Two