RPS: Working on a Broken Man (You're A Daisy If You Do)
Okay, part 3 of the Jared and Jensen Do the Old 97s Remix of DOOOOM. I think there will be one more part after this, and then, the END. I have to warn you all that after American Idol Tuesday night, I have been listening to country pretty much non-stop. And then my boss made me cry today, so um. That's just where I'm coming from.
Working on a Broken Man (You're A Daisy If You Do)
Supernatural RPS
Jared/OC, Jensen/Chris, Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Warnings: Lots of angst and swearing
Disclaimer: I don't own them. But wouldn't it be awesome if I did?
Texas means tequila shots and buying tacos from the back of someone's pick up. Blue skies and white heat, air so humid you feel like you're drowning just to step outside. Sweet tea and bar-b-que and watching the heat lightening nights from the back porch. There are cities in Texas but everyone's country, and to Jensen, it's home.
Too bad he fucking hates it here.
He also hates Alexis and her irritating do-gooder ways, not to mention her ability not only to find his cell number, but also to harass him until he does exactly what she wants. That cunt.
"Is this Jensen Ackles?"
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Language! My my, we ARE a cranky boy."
"If you're a boy, I'll eat my hat."
"Hyperbole, Jensen. Look it up. You know, in the book with all the words? What's that thing called again?"
"Wickipedia?"
Laughter. Of the derisive sort. "Yeah. Anyway look, it's Alexis. We need to talk. Jared's a total mess over this Sarah thing, and normally I'd be sympathetic and all ears and stuff, but it's like, beyond my abilities at this point. He just starts crying and it's too pathetic even for me, and then he wants to know what he did wrong and why I broke up with him, and like, I really don't want to get into that old argument again, you know how it is."
"I do?"
"You do. So like, I need you to call him. Or better yet, go see him. You're from Texas, aren't you? He's at his parents' house. That's how bad this is."
"Wait-who is this?"
"Alexis. Man. You really are a boy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't listen. So listen now, buster. You're going to go see Jared. You're going to make him stop crying about Sandra-"
"I think her name is Sally."
"Whatever. Just fix it. I can't take this anymore, and this needs to end before Lauren finds out or bad things will happen. Like this Sophie chick ending up in the slammer for coke possession or like, intent to sell or something."
"Who still says 'slammer'? And wait-coke? Sally does coke? That explains a lot."
"I have no idea if Sally does coke, but Lauren can make things happen. You don't want to see her when she's angry. Her face gets all red and blotchy, and people end up in the slammer. Yes, the slammer. Deal with my old timey colloquialisms."
The line goes dead, and Jensen finds himself staring at his cell phone waiting for it to do something to clear up the confusion in his head. He thinks that maybe he's just had a conversation with Alexis Bledel about Jared. But possibly it was about something else with someone else entirely, because all he really got out of it was a) he needs to see Jared and b) Sally is a coke fiend. If he wasn't so pissed at Chloe for her crazy lesbian antics at the wrap party-the antics which, he might add, started this whole thing-he might warn her. No one likes to date a cokehead. Well. No one except Jared.
*
Jensen's still not sure how he ends up back in Texas, and not even the good parts of Texas, the civilized parts where people drive things other than rusted out pick ups covered in W stickers and NRA propaganda. No, this is San Antonio, and it's June, which means it's already been ninety degrees for at least an hour by eight in the morning, and stepping out of the cool air conditioning of the airport, Jensen feels like he's drowning in the heat. The sweating starts immediately, and Jensen fucking hates Texas. Hot, useless state, and anything that makes him miss Canada is quite obviously cursed.
But the worst part is dialing Jared's cell and hoping he's awake this early in the morning, because Jensen's not sure what he was smoking when he caved to Alexis's demands, but it was something that made him forget he's got no idea where Jared's folks even live in San Antonio, although knowing Jared, it's really fucking close to the Alamo.
Jared picks up on the fifth ring, just when Jensen thinks it's going to go to voicemail and he'll be stuck at the airport all morning or worse-trying to charm a local into telling him where the fuck Jared even lives.
"What the fuck, man?" Jared doesn't sound happy. In fact, he sounds the exact opposite of happy, and also like he spent the night before drowning himself in booze and vicadin. His throat has that raw-edged sound that only comes from the dry mouth pain killers give you.
"Jared, it's me. Jensen. I'm uh… sort of at the airport."
"Sort of at the airport? Or like, actually at the airport? What the hell are you doing here, man?"
"Funny thing about that. Alexis called me. She called you pathetic, son. I think you need to have a talk with that bitch, show her you're not a pussy."
Jared swears under his breath, but Jensen can't really hear him because he's laughing too much at his own joke. And okay so it's not really that funny, and he doesn't mean to sound misogynistic or whatever, but it's eight in the morning and he's in fucking Texas, he deserves a little slack.
"Fine. Okay. Let me just-I need to shower and borrow a truck. I can be there in like an hour."
"Fuck the shower, you think I don't know what you been up to, boy? If I didn't know better, I'd say you had blowjob voice. But let me guess-Jack and vicadin?"
"Fuck you, Jensen."
"You had your chance. Now get your ass down here before I fucking melt."
*
While Jensen waits he buys a tamale from a woman walking up and down the arrivals line carrying a bucket of them, all husk-wrapped and lard-fried and delicious. He fucking hates Texas but there are some good things about it, he's not shy to admit it. Like illegal immigrants selling their culture at the airports to scrape a living, so Jensen ends up giving the woman a fifty because fuck it-she makes perfect tamales and he's an actor, he's got a show and they're renewed for next season on the CW, so it's not like he's strapped for cash. The woman just smiles and hands him an extra, then wanders off down the line of cars, humming and swinging her bucket.
By the time Jared pulls up in a giant, shining red truck, Jensen is sitting on his bag by the curb, trying not to melt into a fucking puddle, tamales long gone but the spicy sting still sharp on his tongue. Jared leaps down from the truck and pulls Jensen up into a hug, like he's really glad to see him ("I'm really glad you're here, man," he mumbles against Jensen's neck), hitting him on the back twice, hard, because this is Texas and even hugging should be slightly painful.
Jensen wishes he hadn't, and pictures Chris in his mind, hat low over his eyes as he sings into a mic.
"So, not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here, Jensen? Alexis called you? How did she even get your number?" Jared talks a mile a minute, voice still hoarse from last night's debauchery, as he tosses Jensen's bag in the back of the truck.
"How the fuck should I know? That bitch is scary, man." He doesn't mention the part about Jared being pathetic and crying over Suzie, because it's one think to mock a man over the phone when he's half asleep, but it's quite another to do it to his face, and Jared looks tired as hell, all dark circles under his eyes and his smile only half-wattage.
"Sorry about that," Jared says as they pull away from the curb. "Alexis can be a little…hard to handle sometimes. She thinks she knows best, you know how it is with women."
Not really, Jensen thinks, but he nods anyway. "Uh, nice truck." He sounds like an idiot, but it's barely nine in the morning and he's in Texas, with Jared. He needs to be over this whole Jared thing like, yesterday, and fuck that Sally chick for ruining everything. Jensen was fine before Jared's girlfriend suddenly went dyke on them. He had Chris and his life was back in its boxes, all separate and yes, slightly painful and angsty, but then Chris would blow him in back of the bar and he'd feel better about the whole thing. He was okay, really, and if Jensen ever sees Sally again, he's going to kick her ass. He doesn't care how little and cute she is, or how good she is at darts or Pro Skater 3. Bitch is going down.
"Yeah," Jared says, sending Jensen a confused sideways glance. "My dad likes the Texas editions."
There follows an extremely awkward silence, during which Jensen messes with the radio in an attempt to ignore the fact that he just flew to Texas unannounced because Alexis Bledel scares the shit out of him. He lands on 'Don't Fear the Reaper,' which seems particularly ominous, especially when Jared starts laughing his damn fool head off and something that looks suspiciously like tears dot the corners of his eyes.
"I think that settles it," Jared says, changing lanes abruptly and doing a quick U-turn, cutting off at least two people and a guy on a bike, who shakes his fist at them as they pass by.
"Settles what?"
"We need to get drunk. Like, right fucking now."
"Dude, it's nine in the morning."
"You know what they say," Jared says, lips pressed into a grim line. "It's four o'clock somewhere."
*
Except that they've both gotten so used to Canada they forget that Texas is a special sort of hell that won't sell alcohol before ten in the morning, so Jared takes him back to his parent's place instead, a low, wide ranch house outside the city proper, and fuck if it isn't a real ranch with a great big fence and an arching gate and a fucking barn out back. The damn thing probably has horses in it, not that Jensen plans on finding out because he does not do animals. He grew up in the suburbs, for Christ's sake, and he thought this ranch crap was just a ghost story his mama used to tell him so he'd do his homework-Best be working on that calculus, Jenny. You know what happens to guys who don't take to school. Ranch hands and rodeors, and boy, you ain't cut out for the rodeo.
"Mama! Dad!" Jared yells as he leads Jensen in the front door. The house is ridiculous in its unpretentiousness. It's just a house, simple and comfortable like any other house, scrubbed wood floors and those hideous lace doilies all over everything-his mama loves those things too.
"JT, that you, boy? Bring your friend in here! Have some breakfast, I'm making waffles!"
Jared rolls his eyes and drops Jensen's back by the stairs, leading Jensen further into the house and through a swinging door to the kitchen, where a tiny plump woman is busy at the stove cooking something that smells ridiculously good. JT? Jensen mouths at him, but Jared just pulls a face and gives his mama a kiss on the cheek. She turns and gives Jensen a smile, wide and white and Jensen knows exactly where Jared got it, before pulling him into a hug.
"You must be Jensen. JT hasn't stopped talking about you since he got here, have you boy?"
Jared just flushes and stares hard at his boots while his mama pours batter into the waffle maker and nods at the coffee pot. "You'll be wanting some of that, I spose. Out late, JT, weren't you? I hope that boy Johnny isn't indulging you in this Sandy business. Girl was a no good tramp, if you ask me, and you're better off without her."
"Mama," Jared mutters, and Jensen can't help it. He laughs until his sides start to hurt and he has to sit down. He laughs until both Jared and his mama are staring at him like he's lost his mind, but he can't help it because it's just too fucking funny.
JT indeed. Jensen wonders what Jared's middle name is.
*
"Taylor?" Jensen guesses.
"No. Now shut up about the nickname and do this shot, Jenny. I have not yet begun to defile myself."
If there's one thing Jensen loves about Texas, it's the obsession with tequila. There's a ritual to it that's sort of comforting in that familiar way of this is how things go and this is how they will always be-the salt, liquor, lime; the flavors mixing on his tongue and the hot rush of the liquor sending shivers down his spine as he slams his shot glass onto the bar.
"Timothy?" Jensen asks, signaling the bartender for another round. Ah, tequila, how he's missed it so. Not that Canada doesn't have tequila, but no one does tequila quite like Texas, unless it's Mexico, but if you're in Mexico you better already be fucking drunk as hell because you're not about to make it out of that shit unscathed. Jensen still remembers that time in Loredo, when he and Chris-
"Boy, you know the penalty for starting without me."
Jensen looks up to find some tall, lanky motherfucker draping himself all over Jared like white on rice, arms around him from behind, one around Jared's waist and the other around his chest, chin resting on his shoulder because this guy is tall, ridiculously tall. Maybe even a little taller than Jared, and for a moment Jensen wants nothing more than to punch the guy in his (perfect) mouth and then spit on him when he goes down, except that he's already had three-four?-shots and it's only been an hour, so Jensen's pretty sure if he tries that he'll only end up falling on his ass. Again.
This must be Johnny, he thinks, and has a total fucking Tombstone moment, complete with the desire to spout out some Latin and swing his shot glass around. Or maybe throw it at Jared, who just grins and gives the guy a kiss-a fucking kiss!-right there in the middle of some redneck bar in San Antonio, and now Jensen knows that Jared has a serious fucking death wish, because they are all about to get totally fucking murdered.
"You better get on and catch up, then," Jared says, and no one moves to beat them with pool cues or stab them with darts, which Jensen finds himself thinking is sort of a shame, at least where Johnny is concerned.
The bartender brings three more and introductions are made. Suddenly the ritual isn't so comforting anymore. It's Johnny (salt) this is Jensen (liquor) we work together (lime). Three words. Three fucking words to describe the past year. We work together. Jensen wants another right. Fucking. Now.
"Johnny and me go way back," Jared says, taking his own shot quick, without the salt or lime, just downing it with a slight grimace. "Best friends since-god-the seventh grade, ain't that right?" Only he doesn't say 'god,' not here-he says 'gawd' and it's enough to make Jensen want to punch him, too.
Johnny just stands between them grinning, leaning against the bar, dark hair in his eyes and long legs sprawled out in front of him, and damn if he doesn't wear actual cowboy boots, and not like Chris wears them, as some sort of affectation, a declaration that a Southern man don't need him around, anyhow, but real fucking boots, all cracked and worn out with dust and mud and miles.
Now Jensen really hates him.
Damn Alexis Bledel and her insistence that Jared was a wreck. Jared's not a wreck, he's got fucking Johnny Ringo, or well, a much hotter if not as cool version of Johnny Ringo, and she made Jensen come to Texas for fucking this?
There follows three hours of sheer excruciating hell, during which Johnny and Jared talk about old times in a code only they understand, all 'remember the time that' and 'what about the one where,' while Jensen gets steadily drunker and tries to pretend he's not even a part of this little outing.
"Oh god," Jared laughs, "the time we all went to Cabo for Spring break-"
"-and we told our parents we were going to Corpus-"
"-but then the girls, and the police! Damn, I ain't never seen a Mexican so damn mad as that night!"
Cabo. Jared spent Spring breaks in Cabo with Johnny. Now Jensen really wants to kill him. And then they laugh for what seems like an inordinate amount of time while Jensen contemplates swiping some pain killers from Jared's front pocket where he knows Jared's got some stashed and taking them into the bathroom to get really fucked up so that maybe some of this will start to be amusing instead of making him want to punch Jared or maybe suck him off because clearly he was just fucking with Jensen with the whole Sally thing and he's obviously in love with this fucker, Johnny.
Yeah, some pain killers would be ace right about now.
"Hey J.T., I think we're boring your friend with our lame-ass back in the day stories."
Jensen blinks at him, suppressing the urge to kill, while Jared throws and arm around Jensen's shoulders and grins. "Nah, Jensen's good, ain'tcha?"
"I have to take a piss," Jensen announces, shaking off Jared's arm and eyeing his front pocket where the drugs are, but figuring it would take some serious smooth handling to get them out unnoticed.
"'Bout time to be heading back, any which way," Jared says, and his smile is blinding white.
*
Which is how Jensen finds himself wanting to crawl into a hole and just fucking die already, because when he stumbles out of the bar and into the dark of the parking lot, the first thing he sees is Jared. Pressing Johnny up against the door of that shiny red truck, tongue so far down Johnny's throat Jensen's surprised the boy's not gagging. And he's definitely not. No, Johnny is moaning and his hands are tangled in Jared's hair, hips canting forward like he just can't get enough.
Like he's been waiting for this for years.
Jensen doesn't know what Jared thinks he's doing. Well, probably he thinks he's getting on with his best friend since the seventh grade, and he's definitely not thinking about Suzie and the break up, that's for damn sure. And maybe he's not thinking about Jensen either, except that a little part of his brain, the point one percent that is still functioning at the moment, whispers that Jared must be thinking of Jensen and that's exactly what this is all about. Payback's a bitch, bitch, and how d'you like them apples?
Or maybe Jensen's being egotistical and arrogant, but either way he feels like his chest is going to implode at any second, just crack right in half and crush his insides to pulp, and then maybe Jared and Johnny will grin shit eating grins over his slowly imploding body and say things like, "Damn fool boy done got his heart broke" and "Boy sure can't hold his liquor, and his darts game needs some serious application."
He makes a noise that he will later deny, low in his chest, that may or may not resemble a choked whimper, which only has the effect of making Johnny pull his head back slightly so that Jensen can see just how hard they're breathing and just how into this Jared fucking is, resting his forehead against Johnny's and giving him that smile like this is the best thing ever in the universe and Jensen isn't dying a slow and painful death on the pavement.
And so what if it's a metaphorical death. It still fucking hurts like hell.
It's Johnny that nods in Jensen's direction, that makes Jared take notice.
"Oh fuck," Jared says, and for a moment he looks genuinely sorry, although he clearly doesn't even know why. "Sorry, I-"
"I'll be in the bar," Jensen announces. "If you need me."
*
Jensen stays just long enough to keep from offending Jared's mom, because the last thing he needs in his life is a pissed off Texan woman hell bent on protecting her son. He spends an uncomfortable, painfully sober two days with Jared and his family, and all he wants to do, aside from hunt Alexis Bledel down and kill her because she is clearly evil and must be destroyed, is go wherever Chris is and forget this whole weekend from hell ever happened.
But Chris is touring and the network wants Jensen in L.A., promoting the show and the whole new CW thing, which Jared has conveniently gotten out of because of the whole break up thing. The network wants Jared out of the limelight to "heal" for the new season, and if Jensen didn't already think Kripke was a giant fag, he does now. Besides, Jared doesn't need to heal-he's got Johnny fucking cowboy, and Sandy is the furthest thing from his mind right now.
Jensen should know. He's spent the past two days watching them making eyes at each other, touching when they think no one's looking and clearly just waiting for him to get the hell out of dodge so they can get on with it already, without Jared feeling guilty and not even knowing why. And Jensen can't help but feel slightly betrayed, because, well. It's not that Jared doesn’t like guys. It's just that he doesn't like Jensen. Sandy never had anything to do with it, that night at south by southwest. She was just a convenient excuse Jared used to turn him down all nice and gentle like, instead of being a fucking man about it and telling him he wasn't-isn't-wanted.
Well fuck him, because Chris is right-a southern man don't need him around, anyhow.
(Although in retrospect, Jensen's pretty sure Lynard Skynard really never meant for their song to be applied to such a Brokeback moment.)
*
"You don't have to go, man. You just got here." And Jared gives him that look, the one like Jensen just ate all the pie and beat him at Pro Skater all at the same time. Like all the tequila in the world has been drunk and civilization has lost the ability to make more, so he will have to make do with whiskey and vodka for all his days to come.
Jensen can't meet his eyes. "I have… things. Obligations. The network-"
"Bullshit. The network doesn't need you. How many interviews do you really need to do with local morning news programs about how scary the show is?"
"What can I say? I'm the pretty one. You're just jealous, JT."
"But I thought… you're here. You could stay. Just for a little while. You never even got to see the horses."
"Thank the fucking lord. Look," Jensen says, and finally meets Jared's eyes, gaze direct and utterly brutal, because he knows that's the only way he's going to be able to leave right now. Jared never makes anything easy for him, even when Jensen knows it's in both their best interests to just lay low and stay the hell away. "Look. I just came to make sure you were okay, and you are. Chris is waiting for me in L.A." (a total fucking lie, but whatever) "and I'd sure as hell rather be fucking his brains out than playing nursemaid to you, when we both know you can take care of your own damn self. Or, you know, Johnny can do it for you."
Jared's face gets all tight then, like he's just put on some kind of weird Jared-mask that looks like Jared but isn't him at all, all tight and pinched mouth and eyes narrowed. It takes a minute for Jensen to realize that Jared's angry, like really and truly angry, and he never wanted to go this way, but it'll do for now.
"Why are you doing this?" Jared asks, and he sounds like Sam right then, like they're both playing their parts and Jared is the poor, misunderstood, put-upon younger brother, and Jensen is the asshole who always chooses someone else over him.
"I'm not doing anything," Jensen says, and they both know what he means. He grabs his bag and turns to leave, and when he walks away he feels like the biggest asshole in the existence of the human race, ever. Just like that fucking song, seven years disappear below his feet, bad reputation, been breaking down, but it's all for the greater good and someday Jared will be thanking him.
He doesn't look back, but he can feel Jared's eyes on him, just watching him walk away, thinking he's some petty, jealous asshole who has to strike out at other people for being happy just to make himself feel better. Not that he's wrong.
*
To be continued. In the meantime, here's some music:
Bad Reputation - Freedy Johnston // I know I gotta bad reputation, and it isn't just talk talk talk.
Barrier Reef - Old 97s // I went through the motions with her / Her on top and me on liquor / Didn't do know good / Didn't think it would.
Working on a Broken Man (You're A Daisy If You Do)
Supernatural RPS
Jared/OC, Jensen/Chris, Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Warnings: Lots of angst and swearing
Disclaimer: I don't own them. But wouldn't it be awesome if I did?
Texas means tequila shots and buying tacos from the back of someone's pick up. Blue skies and white heat, air so humid you feel like you're drowning just to step outside. Sweet tea and bar-b-que and watching the heat lightening nights from the back porch. There are cities in Texas but everyone's country, and to Jensen, it's home.
Too bad he fucking hates it here.
He also hates Alexis and her irritating do-gooder ways, not to mention her ability not only to find his cell number, but also to harass him until he does exactly what she wants. That cunt.
"Is this Jensen Ackles?"
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Language! My my, we ARE a cranky boy."
"If you're a boy, I'll eat my hat."
"Hyperbole, Jensen. Look it up. You know, in the book with all the words? What's that thing called again?"
"Wickipedia?"
Laughter. Of the derisive sort. "Yeah. Anyway look, it's Alexis. We need to talk. Jared's a total mess over this Sarah thing, and normally I'd be sympathetic and all ears and stuff, but it's like, beyond my abilities at this point. He just starts crying and it's too pathetic even for me, and then he wants to know what he did wrong and why I broke up with him, and like, I really don't want to get into that old argument again, you know how it is."
"I do?"
"You do. So like, I need you to call him. Or better yet, go see him. You're from Texas, aren't you? He's at his parents' house. That's how bad this is."
"Wait-who is this?"
"Alexis. Man. You really are a boy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't listen. So listen now, buster. You're going to go see Jared. You're going to make him stop crying about Sandra-"
"I think her name is Sally."
"Whatever. Just fix it. I can't take this anymore, and this needs to end before Lauren finds out or bad things will happen. Like this Sophie chick ending up in the slammer for coke possession or like, intent to sell or something."
"Who still says 'slammer'? And wait-coke? Sally does coke? That explains a lot."
"I have no idea if Sally does coke, but Lauren can make things happen. You don't want to see her when she's angry. Her face gets all red and blotchy, and people end up in the slammer. Yes, the slammer. Deal with my old timey colloquialisms."
The line goes dead, and Jensen finds himself staring at his cell phone waiting for it to do something to clear up the confusion in his head. He thinks that maybe he's just had a conversation with Alexis Bledel about Jared. But possibly it was about something else with someone else entirely, because all he really got out of it was a) he needs to see Jared and b) Sally is a coke fiend. If he wasn't so pissed at Chloe for her crazy lesbian antics at the wrap party-the antics which, he might add, started this whole thing-he might warn her. No one likes to date a cokehead. Well. No one except Jared.
*
Jensen's still not sure how he ends up back in Texas, and not even the good parts of Texas, the civilized parts where people drive things other than rusted out pick ups covered in W stickers and NRA propaganda. No, this is San Antonio, and it's June, which means it's already been ninety degrees for at least an hour by eight in the morning, and stepping out of the cool air conditioning of the airport, Jensen feels like he's drowning in the heat. The sweating starts immediately, and Jensen fucking hates Texas. Hot, useless state, and anything that makes him miss Canada is quite obviously cursed.
But the worst part is dialing Jared's cell and hoping he's awake this early in the morning, because Jensen's not sure what he was smoking when he caved to Alexis's demands, but it was something that made him forget he's got no idea where Jared's folks even live in San Antonio, although knowing Jared, it's really fucking close to the Alamo.
Jared picks up on the fifth ring, just when Jensen thinks it's going to go to voicemail and he'll be stuck at the airport all morning or worse-trying to charm a local into telling him where the fuck Jared even lives.
"What the fuck, man?" Jared doesn't sound happy. In fact, he sounds the exact opposite of happy, and also like he spent the night before drowning himself in booze and vicadin. His throat has that raw-edged sound that only comes from the dry mouth pain killers give you.
"Jared, it's me. Jensen. I'm uh… sort of at the airport."
"Sort of at the airport? Or like, actually at the airport? What the hell are you doing here, man?"
"Funny thing about that. Alexis called me. She called you pathetic, son. I think you need to have a talk with that bitch, show her you're not a pussy."
Jared swears under his breath, but Jensen can't really hear him because he's laughing too much at his own joke. And okay so it's not really that funny, and he doesn't mean to sound misogynistic or whatever, but it's eight in the morning and he's in fucking Texas, he deserves a little slack.
"Fine. Okay. Let me just-I need to shower and borrow a truck. I can be there in like an hour."
"Fuck the shower, you think I don't know what you been up to, boy? If I didn't know better, I'd say you had blowjob voice. But let me guess-Jack and vicadin?"
"Fuck you, Jensen."
"You had your chance. Now get your ass down here before I fucking melt."
*
While Jensen waits he buys a tamale from a woman walking up and down the arrivals line carrying a bucket of them, all husk-wrapped and lard-fried and delicious. He fucking hates Texas but there are some good things about it, he's not shy to admit it. Like illegal immigrants selling their culture at the airports to scrape a living, so Jensen ends up giving the woman a fifty because fuck it-she makes perfect tamales and he's an actor, he's got a show and they're renewed for next season on the CW, so it's not like he's strapped for cash. The woman just smiles and hands him an extra, then wanders off down the line of cars, humming and swinging her bucket.
By the time Jared pulls up in a giant, shining red truck, Jensen is sitting on his bag by the curb, trying not to melt into a fucking puddle, tamales long gone but the spicy sting still sharp on his tongue. Jared leaps down from the truck and pulls Jensen up into a hug, like he's really glad to see him ("I'm really glad you're here, man," he mumbles against Jensen's neck), hitting him on the back twice, hard, because this is Texas and even hugging should be slightly painful.
Jensen wishes he hadn't, and pictures Chris in his mind, hat low over his eyes as he sings into a mic.
"So, not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here, Jensen? Alexis called you? How did she even get your number?" Jared talks a mile a minute, voice still hoarse from last night's debauchery, as he tosses Jensen's bag in the back of the truck.
"How the fuck should I know? That bitch is scary, man." He doesn't mention the part about Jared being pathetic and crying over Suzie, because it's one think to mock a man over the phone when he's half asleep, but it's quite another to do it to his face, and Jared looks tired as hell, all dark circles under his eyes and his smile only half-wattage.
"Sorry about that," Jared says as they pull away from the curb. "Alexis can be a little…hard to handle sometimes. She thinks she knows best, you know how it is with women."
Not really, Jensen thinks, but he nods anyway. "Uh, nice truck." He sounds like an idiot, but it's barely nine in the morning and he's in Texas, with Jared. He needs to be over this whole Jared thing like, yesterday, and fuck that Sally chick for ruining everything. Jensen was fine before Jared's girlfriend suddenly went dyke on them. He had Chris and his life was back in its boxes, all separate and yes, slightly painful and angsty, but then Chris would blow him in back of the bar and he'd feel better about the whole thing. He was okay, really, and if Jensen ever sees Sally again, he's going to kick her ass. He doesn't care how little and cute she is, or how good she is at darts or Pro Skater 3. Bitch is going down.
"Yeah," Jared says, sending Jensen a confused sideways glance. "My dad likes the Texas editions."
There follows an extremely awkward silence, during which Jensen messes with the radio in an attempt to ignore the fact that he just flew to Texas unannounced because Alexis Bledel scares the shit out of him. He lands on 'Don't Fear the Reaper,' which seems particularly ominous, especially when Jared starts laughing his damn fool head off and something that looks suspiciously like tears dot the corners of his eyes.
"I think that settles it," Jared says, changing lanes abruptly and doing a quick U-turn, cutting off at least two people and a guy on a bike, who shakes his fist at them as they pass by.
"Settles what?"
"We need to get drunk. Like, right fucking now."
"Dude, it's nine in the morning."
"You know what they say," Jared says, lips pressed into a grim line. "It's four o'clock somewhere."
*
Except that they've both gotten so used to Canada they forget that Texas is a special sort of hell that won't sell alcohol before ten in the morning, so Jared takes him back to his parent's place instead, a low, wide ranch house outside the city proper, and fuck if it isn't a real ranch with a great big fence and an arching gate and a fucking barn out back. The damn thing probably has horses in it, not that Jensen plans on finding out because he does not do animals. He grew up in the suburbs, for Christ's sake, and he thought this ranch crap was just a ghost story his mama used to tell him so he'd do his homework-Best be working on that calculus, Jenny. You know what happens to guys who don't take to school. Ranch hands and rodeors, and boy, you ain't cut out for the rodeo.
"Mama! Dad!" Jared yells as he leads Jensen in the front door. The house is ridiculous in its unpretentiousness. It's just a house, simple and comfortable like any other house, scrubbed wood floors and those hideous lace doilies all over everything-his mama loves those things too.
"JT, that you, boy? Bring your friend in here! Have some breakfast, I'm making waffles!"
Jared rolls his eyes and drops Jensen's back by the stairs, leading Jensen further into the house and through a swinging door to the kitchen, where a tiny plump woman is busy at the stove cooking something that smells ridiculously good. JT? Jensen mouths at him, but Jared just pulls a face and gives his mama a kiss on the cheek. She turns and gives Jensen a smile, wide and white and Jensen knows exactly where Jared got it, before pulling him into a hug.
"You must be Jensen. JT hasn't stopped talking about you since he got here, have you boy?"
Jared just flushes and stares hard at his boots while his mama pours batter into the waffle maker and nods at the coffee pot. "You'll be wanting some of that, I spose. Out late, JT, weren't you? I hope that boy Johnny isn't indulging you in this Sandy business. Girl was a no good tramp, if you ask me, and you're better off without her."
"Mama," Jared mutters, and Jensen can't help it. He laughs until his sides start to hurt and he has to sit down. He laughs until both Jared and his mama are staring at him like he's lost his mind, but he can't help it because it's just too fucking funny.
JT indeed. Jensen wonders what Jared's middle name is.
*
"Taylor?" Jensen guesses.
"No. Now shut up about the nickname and do this shot, Jenny. I have not yet begun to defile myself."
If there's one thing Jensen loves about Texas, it's the obsession with tequila. There's a ritual to it that's sort of comforting in that familiar way of this is how things go and this is how they will always be-the salt, liquor, lime; the flavors mixing on his tongue and the hot rush of the liquor sending shivers down his spine as he slams his shot glass onto the bar.
"Timothy?" Jensen asks, signaling the bartender for another round. Ah, tequila, how he's missed it so. Not that Canada doesn't have tequila, but no one does tequila quite like Texas, unless it's Mexico, but if you're in Mexico you better already be fucking drunk as hell because you're not about to make it out of that shit unscathed. Jensen still remembers that time in Loredo, when he and Chris-
"Boy, you know the penalty for starting without me."
Jensen looks up to find some tall, lanky motherfucker draping himself all over Jared like white on rice, arms around him from behind, one around Jared's waist and the other around his chest, chin resting on his shoulder because this guy is tall, ridiculously tall. Maybe even a little taller than Jared, and for a moment Jensen wants nothing more than to punch the guy in his (perfect) mouth and then spit on him when he goes down, except that he's already had three-four?-shots and it's only been an hour, so Jensen's pretty sure if he tries that he'll only end up falling on his ass. Again.
This must be Johnny, he thinks, and has a total fucking Tombstone moment, complete with the desire to spout out some Latin and swing his shot glass around. Or maybe throw it at Jared, who just grins and gives the guy a kiss-a fucking kiss!-right there in the middle of some redneck bar in San Antonio, and now Jensen knows that Jared has a serious fucking death wish, because they are all about to get totally fucking murdered.
"You better get on and catch up, then," Jared says, and no one moves to beat them with pool cues or stab them with darts, which Jensen finds himself thinking is sort of a shame, at least where Johnny is concerned.
The bartender brings three more and introductions are made. Suddenly the ritual isn't so comforting anymore. It's Johnny (salt) this is Jensen (liquor) we work together (lime). Three words. Three fucking words to describe the past year. We work together. Jensen wants another right. Fucking. Now.
"Johnny and me go way back," Jared says, taking his own shot quick, without the salt or lime, just downing it with a slight grimace. "Best friends since-god-the seventh grade, ain't that right?" Only he doesn't say 'god,' not here-he says 'gawd' and it's enough to make Jensen want to punch him, too.
Johnny just stands between them grinning, leaning against the bar, dark hair in his eyes and long legs sprawled out in front of him, and damn if he doesn't wear actual cowboy boots, and not like Chris wears them, as some sort of affectation, a declaration that a Southern man don't need him around, anyhow, but real fucking boots, all cracked and worn out with dust and mud and miles.
Now Jensen really hates him.
Damn Alexis Bledel and her insistence that Jared was a wreck. Jared's not a wreck, he's got fucking Johnny Ringo, or well, a much hotter if not as cool version of Johnny Ringo, and she made Jensen come to Texas for fucking this?
There follows three hours of sheer excruciating hell, during which Johnny and Jared talk about old times in a code only they understand, all 'remember the time that' and 'what about the one where,' while Jensen gets steadily drunker and tries to pretend he's not even a part of this little outing.
"Oh god," Jared laughs, "the time we all went to Cabo for Spring break-"
"-and we told our parents we were going to Corpus-"
"-but then the girls, and the police! Damn, I ain't never seen a Mexican so damn mad as that night!"
Cabo. Jared spent Spring breaks in Cabo with Johnny. Now Jensen really wants to kill him. And then they laugh for what seems like an inordinate amount of time while Jensen contemplates swiping some pain killers from Jared's front pocket where he knows Jared's got some stashed and taking them into the bathroom to get really fucked up so that maybe some of this will start to be amusing instead of making him want to punch Jared or maybe suck him off because clearly he was just fucking with Jensen with the whole Sally thing and he's obviously in love with this fucker, Johnny.
Yeah, some pain killers would be ace right about now.
"Hey J.T., I think we're boring your friend with our lame-ass back in the day stories."
Jensen blinks at him, suppressing the urge to kill, while Jared throws and arm around Jensen's shoulders and grins. "Nah, Jensen's good, ain'tcha?"
"I have to take a piss," Jensen announces, shaking off Jared's arm and eyeing his front pocket where the drugs are, but figuring it would take some serious smooth handling to get them out unnoticed.
"'Bout time to be heading back, any which way," Jared says, and his smile is blinding white.
*
Which is how Jensen finds himself wanting to crawl into a hole and just fucking die already, because when he stumbles out of the bar and into the dark of the parking lot, the first thing he sees is Jared. Pressing Johnny up against the door of that shiny red truck, tongue so far down Johnny's throat Jensen's surprised the boy's not gagging. And he's definitely not. No, Johnny is moaning and his hands are tangled in Jared's hair, hips canting forward like he just can't get enough.
Like he's been waiting for this for years.
Jensen doesn't know what Jared thinks he's doing. Well, probably he thinks he's getting on with his best friend since the seventh grade, and he's definitely not thinking about Suzie and the break up, that's for damn sure. And maybe he's not thinking about Jensen either, except that a little part of his brain, the point one percent that is still functioning at the moment, whispers that Jared must be thinking of Jensen and that's exactly what this is all about. Payback's a bitch, bitch, and how d'you like them apples?
Or maybe Jensen's being egotistical and arrogant, but either way he feels like his chest is going to implode at any second, just crack right in half and crush his insides to pulp, and then maybe Jared and Johnny will grin shit eating grins over his slowly imploding body and say things like, "Damn fool boy done got his heart broke" and "Boy sure can't hold his liquor, and his darts game needs some serious application."
He makes a noise that he will later deny, low in his chest, that may or may not resemble a choked whimper, which only has the effect of making Johnny pull his head back slightly so that Jensen can see just how hard they're breathing and just how into this Jared fucking is, resting his forehead against Johnny's and giving him that smile like this is the best thing ever in the universe and Jensen isn't dying a slow and painful death on the pavement.
And so what if it's a metaphorical death. It still fucking hurts like hell.
It's Johnny that nods in Jensen's direction, that makes Jared take notice.
"Oh fuck," Jared says, and for a moment he looks genuinely sorry, although he clearly doesn't even know why. "Sorry, I-"
"I'll be in the bar," Jensen announces. "If you need me."
*
Jensen stays just long enough to keep from offending Jared's mom, because the last thing he needs in his life is a pissed off Texan woman hell bent on protecting her son. He spends an uncomfortable, painfully sober two days with Jared and his family, and all he wants to do, aside from hunt Alexis Bledel down and kill her because she is clearly evil and must be destroyed, is go wherever Chris is and forget this whole weekend from hell ever happened.
But Chris is touring and the network wants Jensen in L.A., promoting the show and the whole new CW thing, which Jared has conveniently gotten out of because of the whole break up thing. The network wants Jared out of the limelight to "heal" for the new season, and if Jensen didn't already think Kripke was a giant fag, he does now. Besides, Jared doesn't need to heal-he's got Johnny fucking cowboy, and Sandy is the furthest thing from his mind right now.
Jensen should know. He's spent the past two days watching them making eyes at each other, touching when they think no one's looking and clearly just waiting for him to get the hell out of dodge so they can get on with it already, without Jared feeling guilty and not even knowing why. And Jensen can't help but feel slightly betrayed, because, well. It's not that Jared doesn’t like guys. It's just that he doesn't like Jensen. Sandy never had anything to do with it, that night at south by southwest. She was just a convenient excuse Jared used to turn him down all nice and gentle like, instead of being a fucking man about it and telling him he wasn't-isn't-wanted.
Well fuck him, because Chris is right-a southern man don't need him around, anyhow.
(Although in retrospect, Jensen's pretty sure Lynard Skynard really never meant for their song to be applied to such a Brokeback moment.)
*
"You don't have to go, man. You just got here." And Jared gives him that look, the one like Jensen just ate all the pie and beat him at Pro Skater all at the same time. Like all the tequila in the world has been drunk and civilization has lost the ability to make more, so he will have to make do with whiskey and vodka for all his days to come.
Jensen can't meet his eyes. "I have… things. Obligations. The network-"
"Bullshit. The network doesn't need you. How many interviews do you really need to do with local morning news programs about how scary the show is?"
"What can I say? I'm the pretty one. You're just jealous, JT."
"But I thought… you're here. You could stay. Just for a little while. You never even got to see the horses."
"Thank the fucking lord. Look," Jensen says, and finally meets Jared's eyes, gaze direct and utterly brutal, because he knows that's the only way he's going to be able to leave right now. Jared never makes anything easy for him, even when Jensen knows it's in both their best interests to just lay low and stay the hell away. "Look. I just came to make sure you were okay, and you are. Chris is waiting for me in L.A." (a total fucking lie, but whatever) "and I'd sure as hell rather be fucking his brains out than playing nursemaid to you, when we both know you can take care of your own damn self. Or, you know, Johnny can do it for you."
Jared's face gets all tight then, like he's just put on some kind of weird Jared-mask that looks like Jared but isn't him at all, all tight and pinched mouth and eyes narrowed. It takes a minute for Jensen to realize that Jared's angry, like really and truly angry, and he never wanted to go this way, but it'll do for now.
"Why are you doing this?" Jared asks, and he sounds like Sam right then, like they're both playing their parts and Jared is the poor, misunderstood, put-upon younger brother, and Jensen is the asshole who always chooses someone else over him.
"I'm not doing anything," Jensen says, and they both know what he means. He grabs his bag and turns to leave, and when he walks away he feels like the biggest asshole in the existence of the human race, ever. Just like that fucking song, seven years disappear below his feet, bad reputation, been breaking down, but it's all for the greater good and someday Jared will be thanking him.
He doesn't look back, but he can feel Jared's eyes on him, just watching him walk away, thinking he's some petty, jealous asshole who has to strike out at other people for being happy just to make himself feel better. Not that he's wrong.
*
To be continued. In the meantime, here's some music:
Bad Reputation - Freedy Johnston // I know I gotta bad reputation, and it isn't just talk talk talk.
Barrier Reef - Old 97s // I went through the motions with her / Her on top and me on liquor / Didn't do know good / Didn't think it would.