Find Your Light 2/2
Part 1
Act II, scene 3
Jensen, it turned out, really couldn't hold his liquor, so when he looked dangerously close to passing out right at the table after two beers and a shot, Jared took it upon himself to do the right thing and dragged him home to sleep it off. He was beginning to regret that decision now, though, because it meant he had to very nobly ignore the way Jensen had slung an arm over his shoulder and was pressed up far too close for comfort as they made their way home.
"You're really nice, you know?" he said, like it was some sort of huge confession. "I mean, like, really nice. Everybody loves you. Hell, I love you and you think I'm a huge dick."
Jared rolled his eyes while trying to negotiate two hundred pounds of drunk actor and his house keys. "I don't think you're a huge dick."
"You did up until today. That's 'cause I suck at talking to people. Always have. That's why my Mom made me take acting classes, when I was a kid-it's 'cause I was shy. She thought it'd make me better. Guess I showed her!" Jensen crowed, then tripped over Jared's doorstep and only Jared's quick reflexes prevented him from breaking his face against the doorjamb.
"Wow, you are really uncoordinated when you're drunk," Jared commented mildly before bodily hauling him over to the sofa and dumping him there before tugging off his boots. "I'm getting you some water, and then you're going to sleep. Give me your clothes," he added, raising his face heavenwards to pray for strength.
"What?"
"Your clothes. I'll put them through the wash so that we can get back to work tomorrow without it looking like you're doing a walk of shame. I'll lend you a t-shirt and sweatpants for the night."
Jensen blinked owlishly at him, then obediently pulled his shirt over his head. Jared swallowed hard, and deliberately looked away when he tugged off his jeans, because goddamn was this unfair.
"We could," Jensen said suddenly.
"What?"
Jensen got up, a little unsteadily, holding his jeans and shirt bunched up in his hands, looking a bit like a kid who'd brought home something absolutely repulsive from the creek in the hopes of getting his mother's approval. He dropped the clothes at their feet, and moved closer to Jared, so close that Jared could feel the heat coming from his body. He pressed both hands to Jared's chest.
"I mean, you're pretty great, and you've changed your mind about my being a giant dick, and it looks like maybe you don't really mind that I used to be with Jeffrey-and I promise not to talk about that because it's weird-so, you know…"
Jared ducked away from Jensen just as he moved to try to kiss him. "Whoa! Okay, no. No, no. Sit back down."
Jensen's face crumpled a little. "You don't want to? You're not into guys? 'Cause I could have sworn…"
"No, I am." And Jared's dick very much wanted to, unfortunately. "I mean, yeah, no, I don't want to. Not like this, anyway. I like my hook-ups consensual and sober, thanks anyway. Go on, sit," he nudged Jensen back onto the sofa, noting with a little disappointment that despite what Jensen had said, he didn't really seem all that into the notion of their getting together. "I don't know what they teach you in Hollywood, but if someone offers you a couch here, that's all it means. You don't owe me anything."
"That's not-" Jensen started, but Jared didn't wait to hear the end of it.
Instead he picked up the discarded clothes and headed over to the tiny washer and dryer he kept in the kitchen and dropped them in with a scoop of detergent, then filled a glass with water at the sink. By the time he got back to the living room, Jensen had fallen asleep under the throw blanket he kept on the sofa. Jared sighed, left the glass of water on the coffee table, and headed to his own room Occasionally being a decent human being turned out to have some really annoying side effects, he decided as he lay awake in the dark, listening to the quiet hum of the washing machine, resigning himself to what promised to be a sleepless night.
Even more annoyingly, Jensen turned out to be one of those people who don't get hangovers after getting totally blitzed. He borrowed Jared's razor and used the spare toothbrush and sat in his newly washed clothes very sheepishly and very quietly at the kitchen table while Jared made coffee for them both.
"So, um, thank you," he ventured, after his first sip of coffee.
"No problem. Coffee's easy to make," Jared said lightly, and Jensen coloured. It was adorable, and Jared had to physically restrain himself from smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand, because it just figured that he would, yet again, start falling for someone who was not only out of his league, but was also uninterested.
"I meant for last night. I'm sorry if I made things weird for you. I just-I don't drink much, and definitely never when I'm working, but, you know, it was nice to be able to let go and not… anyway, you were really nice and I kind of made an ass of myself. So, you know, thank you, and I'm sorry?" he made the last sound like a question.
"It's fine. I just hope it was the booze that made you think I was expecting some form of repayment. You just looked like you were freaking out over previews, and I thought…" Jared shrugged. "Actually, I don't know what I thought."
"Wait, wait," Jensen was staring at him. "You thought that I was-really? You think that's the kind of person I am?" he asked, clearly affronted, and really, how the hell had this become about Jared being a bad person?
"What? No! That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?" And suddenly their roles were reversed, Jensen pushing himself into Jared's personal space, so close that Jared could smell the coffee on his breath, except this time the edge of the counter was digging into Jared's back, and there was nowhere at all for him to go.
"How else was I supposed to interpret what you did? I mean, you come onto me when you're wasted and clearly not interested…"
"What made you think I wasn't interested?" Jensen said, his voice suddenly soft. Then, when he saw the look on Jared's face, he broke into a grin. "Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance."
Jared shifted a little against the counter. "Um," he managed brightly.
"Therefore," Jensen continued, leaning forward just a fraction more, "much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and mars him; it sets him on and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to," he paused to smooth a hand over Jared's chest, "and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep and, giving him the lie, leaves him."
There was only one good response to that. "I believe drink gave thee the lie last night."
"That it did, sir, I' the very throat o' me, but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him."
Jared wasn't sure if he kissed Jensen first, or if Jensen kissed him, but right now he no longer cared. All he knew was that all his fantasies were nothing compared to having Jensen here in his kitchen, smelling faintly of coffee and the cheap soap Jared kept in his shower, pinning him against his counter. It was a gentle kiss, almost shy, nothing like how he'd expected it to go with a guy who was best known for movies in which he spent most of the time punching people and blowing things up before getting the girl. When they finally pulled apart, after what might have been a minute or an hour, Jared wasn't really sure, his expression was anxious, as though he expected Jared to deck him, or something.
"I-" he started, and got no further before Jared's cell phone went off on the counter, filling the room with the strains of Katy Perry's 'Hot and Cold.'
"Shit, it's Phil, I gotta get that," he apologized, lunging for the phone. "Don't go anywhere. Hello?" he managed not to drop the phone, holding Jensen's gaze with his own as though he could will him to stay put.
"Jared, thank God!" Phil sounded like he might be on the verge of tears, or about to pass out, or maybe both. "I tried you before but I think I got the number wrong, and Bella's having hysterics and I can't find Jensen and we're three days before previews and this is an absolute disaster!"
"Whoa, whoa, Phil, calm down!" Jared injected as much soothing undertones as he could into his voice. "Jensen's here, he crashed on my sofa, everything is fine. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can fix it," he said, hoping he sounded reassuring enough without being condescending. "Just tell me what's going on."
Phil's voice rose to a despairing wail. "Jeffrey Dean Morgan is dead!"
Act III, scene 1
Jeffrey, it turned out, had met a ignominious end in an incident involving the hotel pool, seven pool noodles woven into a makeshift raft, a blood alcohol content well over the legal limit, and a truly astounding number of Welsh corgis.
Bella continued to have hysterics for the better part of thirty-six hours. "It's the curse!" she moaned dramatically whenever Jared was in earshot. "It will get us all, in the end!"
He honestly couldn't tell if it was directed at him because he was the only one who'd dared say the name of the play aloud, or if she was simply trying to attract all the attention in the world. It might have been a bit of both.
The following days passed in a blur. For the rest of his life, Jared would be unable to say exactly what he did after the news of Jeffrey's death came out, except for the twelve hours he spent on the phone with the SPCA and a Welsh corgi rescue society that he hadn't even known existed before that day. Jenny, bless her soul, fielded the sudden influx of reporters and curious members of the public, while Phil managed to keep himself together enough to make sure all the other actors stayed as focused as possible. When the dust settled and time finally began to resume its normal course, the show was still scheduled to go on.
It was, Jared thought, a minor miracle, all things considered. He'd almost expected the run to be cancelled, except of course that Macbeth was the flagship production of their entire season, and there was no way to cancel it without bankrupting the whole damned festival. While everyone was still upset, and Bella and the Witches Three were all still prone to bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, the production was still on-course.
Jensen, though, was a wreck. There hadn't been any time to figure out what the kiss between them had meant, and neither one of them was thinking about that now, anyway, not with Jeffrey's untimely death looming over all of them all. Jensen in particular was taking it very badly, from a professional standpoint, and Jared was pretty sure he was about two seconds away from having a nervous breakdown. There was no way to put it delicately. Bad enough that he'd been losing his mind about being Banquo, now he was the understudy for a dead man, and that seemed to have rattled his already tenuous composure. He flubbed line after line, entrance after entrance, scene after scene until Phil had torn out chunks of his already thinning hair in frustration.
"For God's sake!" he yelled out from his seat in the tenth row after Jensen had missed the same cue for the fifth time. They'd already run late on this rehearsal, the costuming department was losing their minds trying to work in fittings for Jensen's costume, and everyone was ragged and on edge. "I just need you to enter stage right, stand by your mark and deliver your damned line! This isn't rocket science, Jensen. We are exactly one day before previews, and it's not like we can edit out your mistakes! This isn't the movies, there are no cuts or do-overs, do you understand?"
Jensen looked like he might be about to cry, but he forced himself to stand stock-still while the wardrobe girls fussed over him, trying to put together a last-minute costume for him in his new role. Jared's gut clenched in sympathy. "I understand."
Phil growled something unsympathetic under his breath, then blew out his cheeks with an exasperated sigh. "All right, everybody, I'm calling it. Go home, get some sleep, get back here tomorrow, bright and early. I expect everyone to know their lines, their cues and their blocking, got it?"
There was a murmured chorus of agreement, and slowly everyone began to trickle out through various doors, until no one was left but the skeleton crew needed to break down what equipment there was on stage. Jared made his rounds, clipboard in hand, checking off things on his to-do sheet until he was satisfied there was nothing left to do before the next morning. It was just past eleven, he realized, looking at his watch, which was actually relatively early for the last night of dress rehearsals. With this much chaos surrounding the production, he'd expected everyone to be here as late as possible.
Instead, though, he found Jensen alone, pacing miserably on the stage. It was an odd case of déja vu, he thought. "Uh, hey."
Jensen started, then relaxed when he saw who it was. "Hi."
"I won't ask if you're okay, because, well," Jared gestured at him, and Jensen just looked sheepish.
"This is going to be a disaster," he proclaimed dolefully, cradling his head in his hands. "I just hope everyone who bought tickets did it so they could get extra details about the corgi incident, because at the rate I'm going the play we put on won't actually be Macbeth, it'll be all the other characters except Macbeth, and people will be confused and wonder, 'why are all these people talking to empty space?'"
Jared hopped up onto the stage and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It can't possibly be that bad. I mean, come on, all you have to do is make it through the soliloquies, and you're golden."
"It's not the soliloquies that are the problem," Jensen lowered his voice, as though confessing a deep, dark secret. "Those I've got down pat. I could do them in my sleep. It's, you know, the rest."
"The rest?"
"I mean, I never really expected to go on as Macbeth, you know? I was more than happy being Banquo! I just had to make it halfway through the play and then die, and that was it. Now, though… God. So, yeah. You know, the rest of the lines? That part, I'm not as sure of."
Jared gaped at him. "You mean the part where you actually have to speak with other people?"
Jensen grimaced. "Exactly."
There was a moment of silence, while Jared let out a long breath. Then he tilted his head to the side, considering Jensen. "Come here," he commanded, and to his surprise, Jensen did exactly what he was told, letting Jared fold him into his arms and kiss him firmly. "That okay?"
"Better than," Jensen relaxed a little against him.
"Good. Because I have just had a genius idea to make sure you know all your lines by tomorrow."
"Am I going to regret this?"
Jared grinned. "Well, I know I won't."
Act III, scene 2
"Let's start simple," Jared crowded up against Jensen, taking full advantage of the fact that he had several inches and a good twenty pounds on him, pinning him to the wall and shoving a knee between Jensen's thighs. "Act one, scene five. For every scene you get perfectly right, you get a reward."
Jensen squirmed, but he didn't try to get away. "You expect me to concentrate on lines like this?" he asked, breath hot against Jared's face. "Seems counterproductive."
Jared grinned wickedly and leaned in to kiss Jensen until they were both breathless. "That's the genius of my plan. You get your lines right, we keep going. You make a mistake? I stop until you get it right."
"Fuck," Jensen breathed. "That's just cruel."
"Great Glamis!" Jared rejoined instead. "Worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond this ignorant present, and I feel now the future in the instant."
Jensen made a sound that made Jared's dick give a very interested twitch, but he obediently slid both hands around Jared's waist, as though he was trying to anchor himself there. "My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight."
"And when goes hence?" Jared nipped lightly at Jensen's neck, enjoying the sharp inhale it provoked. Jensen bucked a little against his thigh, but to his credit managed his next line without hesitating.
"To-morrow, as he purposes."
"O, never shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters: to beguile the time, look like the time; bear welcome in your eye," Jared stroked Jensen's face, "your hand, your tongue," he paused long enough to kiss Jensen again, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. "Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't. He that's coming must be provided for: and you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch; which shall to all our nights and days to come give solely sovereign sway and masterdom."
"We will speak further," Jensen squeaked, and while the tone wasn't exactly right, Jared figured it was a win.
"Beautiful," he whispered, popping the button on Jensen's jeans and easing down the zipper. "You're a natural," he added, fingers sliding past Jensen's boxer briefs to wrap around his dick. Jensen moaned quietly, head falling back with a painful sounding thud against the wall. "You ready for the next challenge?"
"Fuck."
"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Jared grinned. "I'm going to assume you know your lines in the scenes with Banquo, so let's skip ahead. Act three, scene one, with the murderers," he began to stroke gently, just enough to feel Jensen's cock go from half-mast to fully erect in his hand.
"I hate you. You're really going to-oh God-make me recite an order to murder someone while you're doing that?"
"Yup. Get through the whole scene, I might even let you come."
"Might?" Jensen's eyes flew open, and he glared at Jared's unrepentant grin. Then his expression turned defiant, and it was on. "Was it not yesterday we spoke together?"
"It was, so please your highness." Jared tightened his grip ever so slightly, and Jensen shifted his weight, moving against him, never breaking eye contact.
"Well then, now have you consider'd of my speeches? Know that it was he, in the times past, which held you so under fortune; which you thought had been our innocent self: this I made good to you in our last conference, pass'd in probation with you how you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, who wrought with them, and all things else that might to half a soul and to a notion craz'd say, 'Thus did Banquo.'"
Okay, so Jared had totally underestimated this guy. He had nerves of steel, given the proper motivation. "You made it known to us," he prompted, pumping his hand slowly, watching as Jensen struggled to keep his eyes open and not just give in to the sensation.
"I did so, and went further, which is now our point of second meeting," Jensen clamped his teeth over his lip for a moment, fingers digging into the wall behind him. "Do you find your patience so predominant in your nature that you can let this go?"
It was definitely time to cheat. Jared shoved Jensen's pants roughly down over his hips, licked his lips hungrily as Jensen's cock came free from the confines of the material, the head purple and already beginning to leak. Jensen grunted softly, but didn't miss a beat.
"Are you so gospell'd to pray for this good man and for his issue, whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave and beggar'd yours for ever?"
"We are men, my liege," Jared said, and dropped to his knees.
"Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; as hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept all by the name of dogs: the valued file distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, the housekeeper, the hunter, every one according to the gift which bounteous nature hath in him closed; whereby he does receive particular addition from the bill that writes them all alike: and so of men."
Jensen faltered a little when Jared applied his tongue to the underside of his dick, but rallied after a moment.
"Now, if you have a station in the file, not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't; and I will put that business in your bosoms, whose execution takes your enemy off, grapples you to the heart and love of us, who wear our health but sickly in his life,
which in his death were perfect."
Jared tilted his head back, enjoying the view from where he was, and enjoying the slightly distressed sound Jensen made even more as he stopped what he was doing to deliver his line. "I am one, my liege, whom the vile blows and buffets of the world have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. And I another," he picked up the lines of the second murderer, "so weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, that I would set my lie on any chance, to mend it, or be rid on't."
Jensen was panting now, one hand resting lightly on top of Jared's head, and Jared felt his fingers twitch, as though he was barely holding back from simply hauling Jared back down onto his dick. It seemed silly not to oblige him, and so Jared bent his head and applied himself enthusiastically to making Jensen come apart at the seams, enjoying the small, desperate noises he was making, shaking with the effort of staying upright. After a moment he pulled off with a wet pop, and Jensen mewled pathetically at the loss of contact.
"Your line," Jared prompted, and Jensen moaned, but gritted his teeth and carried on.
"Both of you know Banquo was your enemy."
"True, my lord."
"So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, that every minute of his being thrusts against my near'st of life: and though I could with barefaced power sweep him from my sight and bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, for certain friends that are both his and mine, whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall who I myself struck down; and thence it is, that I to your assistance do make love, masking the business from the common eye for sundry weighty reasons. Jesus, Jared!"
Jensen bucked as Jared wrapped his lips around his cock again, the heel of one shoe scraping against the floor as his feet threatened to lose all purchase, and Jared laughed and licked him all the way from the root to the crown, reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his crotch. Coming in his pants like a teenager was not part of the plans tonight, regardless of the provocation.
"We shall, my lord, perform what you command us," he said, pulling away just far enough that he knew Jensen could still feel his breath on his glistening cock. "Though our lives-"
"Your spirits shine through you," Jensen interrupted, and Jared couldn't help but admire the perfection of his timing, even as he had to use both hands to pin Jensen's hips to the wall to keep him from simply fucking into his mouth. That, he decided, would come later. "Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves; acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, the moment on't; for't must be done to-night, and something from the palace; always thought that I require a clearness: and with him-to leave no rubs nor botches in the work-Fleance his son, that keeps him company, whose absence is no less material to me than is his father's, must embrace the fate of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: I'll come to you anon."
Jared wasn't even sure Jensen could make out his next words, but he delivered the line anyway. "We are resolved, my lord."
"I'll call upon you straight: abide within," Jensen's voice was ragged, his breath catching on every word, but he struggled gamely to the end. "It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight, if it find heaven, must find it out to-night. Okay?"
That last part definitely wasn't in the original text, but Jared figured it was close enough. "You got it," he assured him, stroking one hand over Jensen's hip, petting his flank. Then he tugged on him until Jensen simply gave up and let himself slide down the wall to the floor, letting Jared straddle his hips. Jared moved up to capture his mouth in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth tangled together, his left hand moving back to continue jacking Jensen with quick, sure strokes.
Jensen hummed happily into the kiss, his own hands drifting to Jared's pants and fumbling with the button, easing the zipper past his erection with a great deal of care, which Jared couldn't help but appreciate.
"You too," Jensen murmured against his mouth.
"Considerate," Jared laughed, and felt Jensen shake a little with silent laughter of his own.
"Gotta show a little appreciation for such a good dialogue coach," he said, moving Jared's hand so he could wrap it around both their dicks, guiding his movements, urging him on. "God, been wanting to do this for-" he couldn't finish his sentence, his head falling back and his eyes slamming shut as Jared twisted his fingers as best he could.
Jensen came with a bitten-off moan as Jared buried his face in his collarbone, too far gone to even attempt coherent speech of any kind. Jensen didn't relinquish his grip on Jared's hand, kept moving in time with him, while the coiling pressure built until Jared was sure he couldn't bear it a second longer.
"Come on," Jensen encouraged him, then delicately sank his teeth into Jared's ear, and that was it.
Jared shook with the strain, spilling hot and fast over their hands, coloured spots dancing in front of his vision. Jensen laughed quietly, then shoved him unceremoniously to the side.
"That was fantastic, but you weigh a ton," he said apologetically, trying unsuccessfully to tug his pants back on.
Jensen looked utterly debauched, cheeks flushed, lips red from where he'd bitten at them, and there was an unmistakable stain on the hem of his t-shirt. Jared could only guess that he looked just as unkempt, his own mouth still tingling from before. He zipped up his jeans, then rolled to the side to kiss Jensen again.
"I think I can safely say that you know your lines, if you were able to remember them through all that."
"You think pretty highly of your skills," Jensen mocked, and Jared shrugged and grinned.
"I don't recall you complaining."
"True. So you think it'll be okay?"
"Absolutely. You'll kill it out there tomorrow. Come on, we'll go back to my place, have a drink, and finish this on a much more comfortable surface."
"Like your bed?" Jensen said hopefully.
"You guessed it. Oh, and Jensen?" Jared felt his grin grow wider when he saw it mirrored on Jensen's face. "Break a leg."
"That's just mean."
~*~
EPILOGUE
Jensen had been pacing for fifteen minutes now, so quickly that he was beginning to make even Jared feel dizzy. Finally Phil grabbed Jared by the shoulder and pulled him aside, his expression frantic. Jared was pretty sure he was missing even more hair.
"For God's sake, do something. You're the only one he listens to anymore. He's going to make himself sick, or ruin his makeup! Or both!"
Jared nodded, as though he had absolutely nothing else to do the night of a premiere than to hold the hand of the lead actor, no matter if he was cute and they were sleeping together. That should have been Phil's job, except now Phil was making it his job, and that was that. Still, the show must go on, and the show could not go on without Jensen. So he did what any self-respecting stage manager would do, manned up, walked over to where their resident Macbeth looked like he was about two seconds away from throwing up all over his costume, and kissed him soundly.
For a second Jensen almost jerked away, clearly taken by surprise, but when he figured out what was happening he relaxed into the kiss and even let Jared nudge a knee between his legs. When he was sure that Jensen was well and truly distracted he broke off the kiss, then swiped delicately at Jensen's lips with the pad of his thumb.
"Relax," he chided him. "You'll be fine."
"Christ," Jensen moaned, though Jared was pretty sure it had nothing to do with what Jared was doing and everything to do with the fact that the curtain had gone up four minutes ago. Jared should be up in his booth monitoring the cues and making sure Jenny didn't spill hot chocolate over the controls, but here he was instead. He'd have to sprint once Jensen was on stage, and hope for the best. "I have no idea what I'm doing. What if I suck? I barely got these lines memorized, and I keep getting the blocking wrong and-fuck!"
Jared kissed him again, a little faster. "You'll be fine, I promise. Even if you forget all your blocking, just find your light, wait for your cues, and the rest does itself. I promise."
To his surprise, Jensen looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, about that… what does that mean? Find your light? Everybody keeps telling me than, and I have no idea what it even means."
Jared threw back his head with a bark of laughter. "Oh my God, you poor bastard. You should have just asked, I would have told you."
Jensen scowled. "I'm asking now, okay? Screw you, not everybody was raised with knowledge of the theatre breastfed to them."
"Aw," Jared mocked gently, patting him on the shoulder. "It's simple. The lights are hot, so when you're standing out there, turn until you can feel the heat on your face, and that means you're being properly lit. That's all it means."
Out on the stage, the cry went up: "A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come!"
Jensen blew out a breath. "Okay. Okay, I can do that."
Jared kissed him one last time. "Break a leg. If you get through without a mistake," he dropped his voice to a husky whisper that made Jensen shudder violently, "I promise you that we'll celebrate tonight in a way you'll never forget."
He gave Jensen a none-too-gentle shove toward the stage before taking off at a sprint towards his booth. Jenny rolled her eyes at him, handed him his headset, and then flipped him the bird as he dropped into his seat and flipped to the right page in his script.
"Really?" she mouthed, and he shrugged in an apology that they both knew wasn't particularly sincere.
He leaned forward as Jensen strode out onto the stage, cloak billowing out behind him as he moved. There was no trace now of his earlier awkward shyness, the anxiety that had threatened to make him empty his stomach backstage. Jensen was gone, replaced by Macbeth, newly appointed Thane of Cawdor.
"So fair and foul a day I have not seen!"
Jared let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He downed his hot chocolate-long since gone tepid-in a few swallows, and grinned at Jenny.
Jenny nodded back at him. "He's very good."
And when the curtain came down and the audience leapt to their feet with a roar of appreciation, Jared couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly. If all the world was a stage, he thought, quoting entirely the wrong play to himself, then he was definitely looking forward to the second act of this new play in which he'd found himself.
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Act II, scene 3
Jensen, it turned out, really couldn't hold his liquor, so when he looked dangerously close to passing out right at the table after two beers and a shot, Jared took it upon himself to do the right thing and dragged him home to sleep it off. He was beginning to regret that decision now, though, because it meant he had to very nobly ignore the way Jensen had slung an arm over his shoulder and was pressed up far too close for comfort as they made their way home.
"You're really nice, you know?" he said, like it was some sort of huge confession. "I mean, like, really nice. Everybody loves you. Hell, I love you and you think I'm a huge dick."
Jared rolled his eyes while trying to negotiate two hundred pounds of drunk actor and his house keys. "I don't think you're a huge dick."
"You did up until today. That's 'cause I suck at talking to people. Always have. That's why my Mom made me take acting classes, when I was a kid-it's 'cause I was shy. She thought it'd make me better. Guess I showed her!" Jensen crowed, then tripped over Jared's doorstep and only Jared's quick reflexes prevented him from breaking his face against the doorjamb.
"Wow, you are really uncoordinated when you're drunk," Jared commented mildly before bodily hauling him over to the sofa and dumping him there before tugging off his boots. "I'm getting you some water, and then you're going to sleep. Give me your clothes," he added, raising his face heavenwards to pray for strength.
"What?"
"Your clothes. I'll put them through the wash so that we can get back to work tomorrow without it looking like you're doing a walk of shame. I'll lend you a t-shirt and sweatpants for the night."
Jensen blinked owlishly at him, then obediently pulled his shirt over his head. Jared swallowed hard, and deliberately looked away when he tugged off his jeans, because goddamn was this unfair.
"We could," Jensen said suddenly.
"What?"
Jensen got up, a little unsteadily, holding his jeans and shirt bunched up in his hands, looking a bit like a kid who'd brought home something absolutely repulsive from the creek in the hopes of getting his mother's approval. He dropped the clothes at their feet, and moved closer to Jared, so close that Jared could feel the heat coming from his body. He pressed both hands to Jared's chest.
"I mean, you're pretty great, and you've changed your mind about my being a giant dick, and it looks like maybe you don't really mind that I used to be with Jeffrey-and I promise not to talk about that because it's weird-so, you know…"
Jared ducked away from Jensen just as he moved to try to kiss him. "Whoa! Okay, no. No, no. Sit back down."
Jensen's face crumpled a little. "You don't want to? You're not into guys? 'Cause I could have sworn…"
"No, I am." And Jared's dick very much wanted to, unfortunately. "I mean, yeah, no, I don't want to. Not like this, anyway. I like my hook-ups consensual and sober, thanks anyway. Go on, sit," he nudged Jensen back onto the sofa, noting with a little disappointment that despite what Jensen had said, he didn't really seem all that into the notion of their getting together. "I don't know what they teach you in Hollywood, but if someone offers you a couch here, that's all it means. You don't owe me anything."
"That's not-" Jensen started, but Jared didn't wait to hear the end of it.
Instead he picked up the discarded clothes and headed over to the tiny washer and dryer he kept in the kitchen and dropped them in with a scoop of detergent, then filled a glass with water at the sink. By the time he got back to the living room, Jensen had fallen asleep under the throw blanket he kept on the sofa. Jared sighed, left the glass of water on the coffee table, and headed to his own room Occasionally being a decent human being turned out to have some really annoying side effects, he decided as he lay awake in the dark, listening to the quiet hum of the washing machine, resigning himself to what promised to be a sleepless night.
Even more annoyingly, Jensen turned out to be one of those people who don't get hangovers after getting totally blitzed. He borrowed Jared's razor and used the spare toothbrush and sat in his newly washed clothes very sheepishly and very quietly at the kitchen table while Jared made coffee for them both.
"So, um, thank you," he ventured, after his first sip of coffee.
"No problem. Coffee's easy to make," Jared said lightly, and Jensen coloured. It was adorable, and Jared had to physically restrain himself from smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand, because it just figured that he would, yet again, start falling for someone who was not only out of his league, but was also uninterested.
"I meant for last night. I'm sorry if I made things weird for you. I just-I don't drink much, and definitely never when I'm working, but, you know, it was nice to be able to let go and not… anyway, you were really nice and I kind of made an ass of myself. So, you know, thank you, and I'm sorry?" he made the last sound like a question.
"It's fine. I just hope it was the booze that made you think I was expecting some form of repayment. You just looked like you were freaking out over previews, and I thought…" Jared shrugged. "Actually, I don't know what I thought."
"Wait, wait," Jensen was staring at him. "You thought that I was-really? You think that's the kind of person I am?" he asked, clearly affronted, and really, how the hell had this become about Jared being a bad person?
"What? No! That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?" And suddenly their roles were reversed, Jensen pushing himself into Jared's personal space, so close that Jared could smell the coffee on his breath, except this time the edge of the counter was digging into Jared's back, and there was nowhere at all for him to go.
"How else was I supposed to interpret what you did? I mean, you come onto me when you're wasted and clearly not interested…"
"What made you think I wasn't interested?" Jensen said, his voice suddenly soft. Then, when he saw the look on Jared's face, he broke into a grin. "Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance."
Jared shifted a little against the counter. "Um," he managed brightly.
"Therefore," Jensen continued, leaning forward just a fraction more, "much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and mars him; it sets him on and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to," he paused to smooth a hand over Jared's chest, "and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep and, giving him the lie, leaves him."
There was only one good response to that. "I believe drink gave thee the lie last night."
"That it did, sir, I' the very throat o' me, but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him."
Jared wasn't sure if he kissed Jensen first, or if Jensen kissed him, but right now he no longer cared. All he knew was that all his fantasies were nothing compared to having Jensen here in his kitchen, smelling faintly of coffee and the cheap soap Jared kept in his shower, pinning him against his counter. It was a gentle kiss, almost shy, nothing like how he'd expected it to go with a guy who was best known for movies in which he spent most of the time punching people and blowing things up before getting the girl. When they finally pulled apart, after what might have been a minute or an hour, Jared wasn't really sure, his expression was anxious, as though he expected Jared to deck him, or something.
"I-" he started, and got no further before Jared's cell phone went off on the counter, filling the room with the strains of Katy Perry's 'Hot and Cold.'
"Shit, it's Phil, I gotta get that," he apologized, lunging for the phone. "Don't go anywhere. Hello?" he managed not to drop the phone, holding Jensen's gaze with his own as though he could will him to stay put.
"Jared, thank God!" Phil sounded like he might be on the verge of tears, or about to pass out, or maybe both. "I tried you before but I think I got the number wrong, and Bella's having hysterics and I can't find Jensen and we're three days before previews and this is an absolute disaster!"
"Whoa, whoa, Phil, calm down!" Jared injected as much soothing undertones as he could into his voice. "Jensen's here, he crashed on my sofa, everything is fine. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can fix it," he said, hoping he sounded reassuring enough without being condescending. "Just tell me what's going on."
Phil's voice rose to a despairing wail. "Jeffrey Dean Morgan is dead!"
Act III, scene 1
Jeffrey, it turned out, had met a ignominious end in an incident involving the hotel pool, seven pool noodles woven into a makeshift raft, a blood alcohol content well over the legal limit, and a truly astounding number of Welsh corgis.
Bella continued to have hysterics for the better part of thirty-six hours. "It's the curse!" she moaned dramatically whenever Jared was in earshot. "It will get us all, in the end!"
He honestly couldn't tell if it was directed at him because he was the only one who'd dared say the name of the play aloud, or if she was simply trying to attract all the attention in the world. It might have been a bit of both.
The following days passed in a blur. For the rest of his life, Jared would be unable to say exactly what he did after the news of Jeffrey's death came out, except for the twelve hours he spent on the phone with the SPCA and a Welsh corgi rescue society that he hadn't even known existed before that day. Jenny, bless her soul, fielded the sudden influx of reporters and curious members of the public, while Phil managed to keep himself together enough to make sure all the other actors stayed as focused as possible. When the dust settled and time finally began to resume its normal course, the show was still scheduled to go on.
It was, Jared thought, a minor miracle, all things considered. He'd almost expected the run to be cancelled, except of course that Macbeth was the flagship production of their entire season, and there was no way to cancel it without bankrupting the whole damned festival. While everyone was still upset, and Bella and the Witches Three were all still prone to bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, the production was still on-course.
Jensen, though, was a wreck. There hadn't been any time to figure out what the kiss between them had meant, and neither one of them was thinking about that now, anyway, not with Jeffrey's untimely death looming over all of them all. Jensen in particular was taking it very badly, from a professional standpoint, and Jared was pretty sure he was about two seconds away from having a nervous breakdown. There was no way to put it delicately. Bad enough that he'd been losing his mind about being Banquo, now he was the understudy for a dead man, and that seemed to have rattled his already tenuous composure. He flubbed line after line, entrance after entrance, scene after scene until Phil had torn out chunks of his already thinning hair in frustration.
"For God's sake!" he yelled out from his seat in the tenth row after Jensen had missed the same cue for the fifth time. They'd already run late on this rehearsal, the costuming department was losing their minds trying to work in fittings for Jensen's costume, and everyone was ragged and on edge. "I just need you to enter stage right, stand by your mark and deliver your damned line! This isn't rocket science, Jensen. We are exactly one day before previews, and it's not like we can edit out your mistakes! This isn't the movies, there are no cuts or do-overs, do you understand?"
Jensen looked like he might be about to cry, but he forced himself to stand stock-still while the wardrobe girls fussed over him, trying to put together a last-minute costume for him in his new role. Jared's gut clenched in sympathy. "I understand."
Phil growled something unsympathetic under his breath, then blew out his cheeks with an exasperated sigh. "All right, everybody, I'm calling it. Go home, get some sleep, get back here tomorrow, bright and early. I expect everyone to know their lines, their cues and their blocking, got it?"
There was a murmured chorus of agreement, and slowly everyone began to trickle out through various doors, until no one was left but the skeleton crew needed to break down what equipment there was on stage. Jared made his rounds, clipboard in hand, checking off things on his to-do sheet until he was satisfied there was nothing left to do before the next morning. It was just past eleven, he realized, looking at his watch, which was actually relatively early for the last night of dress rehearsals. With this much chaos surrounding the production, he'd expected everyone to be here as late as possible.
Instead, though, he found Jensen alone, pacing miserably on the stage. It was an odd case of déja vu, he thought. "Uh, hey."
Jensen started, then relaxed when he saw who it was. "Hi."
"I won't ask if you're okay, because, well," Jared gestured at him, and Jensen just looked sheepish.
"This is going to be a disaster," he proclaimed dolefully, cradling his head in his hands. "I just hope everyone who bought tickets did it so they could get extra details about the corgi incident, because at the rate I'm going the play we put on won't actually be Macbeth, it'll be all the other characters except Macbeth, and people will be confused and wonder, 'why are all these people talking to empty space?'"
Jared hopped up onto the stage and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It can't possibly be that bad. I mean, come on, all you have to do is make it through the soliloquies, and you're golden."
"It's not the soliloquies that are the problem," Jensen lowered his voice, as though confessing a deep, dark secret. "Those I've got down pat. I could do them in my sleep. It's, you know, the rest."
"The rest?"
"I mean, I never really expected to go on as Macbeth, you know? I was more than happy being Banquo! I just had to make it halfway through the play and then die, and that was it. Now, though… God. So, yeah. You know, the rest of the lines? That part, I'm not as sure of."
Jared gaped at him. "You mean the part where you actually have to speak with other people?"
Jensen grimaced. "Exactly."
There was a moment of silence, while Jared let out a long breath. Then he tilted his head to the side, considering Jensen. "Come here," he commanded, and to his surprise, Jensen did exactly what he was told, letting Jared fold him into his arms and kiss him firmly. "That okay?"
"Better than," Jensen relaxed a little against him.
"Good. Because I have just had a genius idea to make sure you know all your lines by tomorrow."
"Am I going to regret this?"
Jared grinned. "Well, I know I won't."
Act III, scene 2
"Let's start simple," Jared crowded up against Jensen, taking full advantage of the fact that he had several inches and a good twenty pounds on him, pinning him to the wall and shoving a knee between Jensen's thighs. "Act one, scene five. For every scene you get perfectly right, you get a reward."
Jensen squirmed, but he didn't try to get away. "You expect me to concentrate on lines like this?" he asked, breath hot against Jared's face. "Seems counterproductive."
Jared grinned wickedly and leaned in to kiss Jensen until they were both breathless. "That's the genius of my plan. You get your lines right, we keep going. You make a mistake? I stop until you get it right."
"Fuck," Jensen breathed. "That's just cruel."
"Great Glamis!" Jared rejoined instead. "Worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond this ignorant present, and I feel now the future in the instant."
Jensen made a sound that made Jared's dick give a very interested twitch, but he obediently slid both hands around Jared's waist, as though he was trying to anchor himself there. "My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight."
"And when goes hence?" Jared nipped lightly at Jensen's neck, enjoying the sharp inhale it provoked. Jensen bucked a little against his thigh, but to his credit managed his next line without hesitating.
"To-morrow, as he purposes."
"O, never shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters: to beguile the time, look like the time; bear welcome in your eye," Jared stroked Jensen's face, "your hand, your tongue," he paused long enough to kiss Jensen again, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. "Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't. He that's coming must be provided for: and you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch; which shall to all our nights and days to come give solely sovereign sway and masterdom."
"We will speak further," Jensen squeaked, and while the tone wasn't exactly right, Jared figured it was a win.
"Beautiful," he whispered, popping the button on Jensen's jeans and easing down the zipper. "You're a natural," he added, fingers sliding past Jensen's boxer briefs to wrap around his dick. Jensen moaned quietly, head falling back with a painful sounding thud against the wall. "You ready for the next challenge?"
"Fuck."
"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Jared grinned. "I'm going to assume you know your lines in the scenes with Banquo, so let's skip ahead. Act three, scene one, with the murderers," he began to stroke gently, just enough to feel Jensen's cock go from half-mast to fully erect in his hand.
"I hate you. You're really going to-oh God-make me recite an order to murder someone while you're doing that?"
"Yup. Get through the whole scene, I might even let you come."
"Might?" Jensen's eyes flew open, and he glared at Jared's unrepentant grin. Then his expression turned defiant, and it was on. "Was it not yesterday we spoke together?"
"It was, so please your highness." Jared tightened his grip ever so slightly, and Jensen shifted his weight, moving against him, never breaking eye contact.
"Well then, now have you consider'd of my speeches? Know that it was he, in the times past, which held you so under fortune; which you thought had been our innocent self: this I made good to you in our last conference, pass'd in probation with you how you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, who wrought with them, and all things else that might to half a soul and to a notion craz'd say, 'Thus did Banquo.'"
Okay, so Jared had totally underestimated this guy. He had nerves of steel, given the proper motivation. "You made it known to us," he prompted, pumping his hand slowly, watching as Jensen struggled to keep his eyes open and not just give in to the sensation.
"I did so, and went further, which is now our point of second meeting," Jensen clamped his teeth over his lip for a moment, fingers digging into the wall behind him. "Do you find your patience so predominant in your nature that you can let this go?"
It was definitely time to cheat. Jared shoved Jensen's pants roughly down over his hips, licked his lips hungrily as Jensen's cock came free from the confines of the material, the head purple and already beginning to leak. Jensen grunted softly, but didn't miss a beat.
"Are you so gospell'd to pray for this good man and for his issue, whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave and beggar'd yours for ever?"
"We are men, my liege," Jared said, and dropped to his knees.
"Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; as hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept all by the name of dogs: the valued file distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, the housekeeper, the hunter, every one according to the gift which bounteous nature hath in him closed; whereby he does receive particular addition from the bill that writes them all alike: and so of men."
Jensen faltered a little when Jared applied his tongue to the underside of his dick, but rallied after a moment.
"Now, if you have a station in the file, not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't; and I will put that business in your bosoms, whose execution takes your enemy off, grapples you to the heart and love of us, who wear our health but sickly in his life,
which in his death were perfect."
Jared tilted his head back, enjoying the view from where he was, and enjoying the slightly distressed sound Jensen made even more as he stopped what he was doing to deliver his line. "I am one, my liege, whom the vile blows and buffets of the world have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. And I another," he picked up the lines of the second murderer, "so weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, that I would set my lie on any chance, to mend it, or be rid on't."
Jensen was panting now, one hand resting lightly on top of Jared's head, and Jared felt his fingers twitch, as though he was barely holding back from simply hauling Jared back down onto his dick. It seemed silly not to oblige him, and so Jared bent his head and applied himself enthusiastically to making Jensen come apart at the seams, enjoying the small, desperate noises he was making, shaking with the effort of staying upright. After a moment he pulled off with a wet pop, and Jensen mewled pathetically at the loss of contact.
"Your line," Jared prompted, and Jensen moaned, but gritted his teeth and carried on.
"Both of you know Banquo was your enemy."
"True, my lord."
"So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, that every minute of his being thrusts against my near'st of life: and though I could with barefaced power sweep him from my sight and bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, for certain friends that are both his and mine, whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall who I myself struck down; and thence it is, that I to your assistance do make love, masking the business from the common eye for sundry weighty reasons. Jesus, Jared!"
Jensen bucked as Jared wrapped his lips around his cock again, the heel of one shoe scraping against the floor as his feet threatened to lose all purchase, and Jared laughed and licked him all the way from the root to the crown, reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his crotch. Coming in his pants like a teenager was not part of the plans tonight, regardless of the provocation.
"We shall, my lord, perform what you command us," he said, pulling away just far enough that he knew Jensen could still feel his breath on his glistening cock. "Though our lives-"
"Your spirits shine through you," Jensen interrupted, and Jared couldn't help but admire the perfection of his timing, even as he had to use both hands to pin Jensen's hips to the wall to keep him from simply fucking into his mouth. That, he decided, would come later. "Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves; acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, the moment on't; for't must be done to-night, and something from the palace; always thought that I require a clearness: and with him-to leave no rubs nor botches in the work-Fleance his son, that keeps him company, whose absence is no less material to me than is his father's, must embrace the fate of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: I'll come to you anon."
Jared wasn't even sure Jensen could make out his next words, but he delivered the line anyway. "We are resolved, my lord."
"I'll call upon you straight: abide within," Jensen's voice was ragged, his breath catching on every word, but he struggled gamely to the end. "It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight, if it find heaven, must find it out to-night. Okay?"
That last part definitely wasn't in the original text, but Jared figured it was close enough. "You got it," he assured him, stroking one hand over Jensen's hip, petting his flank. Then he tugged on him until Jensen simply gave up and let himself slide down the wall to the floor, letting Jared straddle his hips. Jared moved up to capture his mouth in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth tangled together, his left hand moving back to continue jacking Jensen with quick, sure strokes.
Jensen hummed happily into the kiss, his own hands drifting to Jared's pants and fumbling with the button, easing the zipper past his erection with a great deal of care, which Jared couldn't help but appreciate.
"You too," Jensen murmured against his mouth.
"Considerate," Jared laughed, and felt Jensen shake a little with silent laughter of his own.
"Gotta show a little appreciation for such a good dialogue coach," he said, moving Jared's hand so he could wrap it around both their dicks, guiding his movements, urging him on. "God, been wanting to do this for-" he couldn't finish his sentence, his head falling back and his eyes slamming shut as Jared twisted his fingers as best he could.
Jensen came with a bitten-off moan as Jared buried his face in his collarbone, too far gone to even attempt coherent speech of any kind. Jensen didn't relinquish his grip on Jared's hand, kept moving in time with him, while the coiling pressure built until Jared was sure he couldn't bear it a second longer.
"Come on," Jensen encouraged him, then delicately sank his teeth into Jared's ear, and that was it.
Jared shook with the strain, spilling hot and fast over their hands, coloured spots dancing in front of his vision. Jensen laughed quietly, then shoved him unceremoniously to the side.
"That was fantastic, but you weigh a ton," he said apologetically, trying unsuccessfully to tug his pants back on.
Jensen looked utterly debauched, cheeks flushed, lips red from where he'd bitten at them, and there was an unmistakable stain on the hem of his t-shirt. Jared could only guess that he looked just as unkempt, his own mouth still tingling from before. He zipped up his jeans, then rolled to the side to kiss Jensen again.
"I think I can safely say that you know your lines, if you were able to remember them through all that."
"You think pretty highly of your skills," Jensen mocked, and Jared shrugged and grinned.
"I don't recall you complaining."
"True. So you think it'll be okay?"
"Absolutely. You'll kill it out there tomorrow. Come on, we'll go back to my place, have a drink, and finish this on a much more comfortable surface."
"Like your bed?" Jensen said hopefully.
"You guessed it. Oh, and Jensen?" Jared felt his grin grow wider when he saw it mirrored on Jensen's face. "Break a leg."
"That's just mean."
~*~
EPILOGUE
Jensen had been pacing for fifteen minutes now, so quickly that he was beginning to make even Jared feel dizzy. Finally Phil grabbed Jared by the shoulder and pulled him aside, his expression frantic. Jared was pretty sure he was missing even more hair.
"For God's sake, do something. You're the only one he listens to anymore. He's going to make himself sick, or ruin his makeup! Or both!"
Jared nodded, as though he had absolutely nothing else to do the night of a premiere than to hold the hand of the lead actor, no matter if he was cute and they were sleeping together. That should have been Phil's job, except now Phil was making it his job, and that was that. Still, the show must go on, and the show could not go on without Jensen. So he did what any self-respecting stage manager would do, manned up, walked over to where their resident Macbeth looked like he was about two seconds away from throwing up all over his costume, and kissed him soundly.
For a second Jensen almost jerked away, clearly taken by surprise, but when he figured out what was happening he relaxed into the kiss and even let Jared nudge a knee between his legs. When he was sure that Jensen was well and truly distracted he broke off the kiss, then swiped delicately at Jensen's lips with the pad of his thumb.
"Relax," he chided him. "You'll be fine."
"Christ," Jensen moaned, though Jared was pretty sure it had nothing to do with what Jared was doing and everything to do with the fact that the curtain had gone up four minutes ago. Jared should be up in his booth monitoring the cues and making sure Jenny didn't spill hot chocolate over the controls, but here he was instead. He'd have to sprint once Jensen was on stage, and hope for the best. "I have no idea what I'm doing. What if I suck? I barely got these lines memorized, and I keep getting the blocking wrong and-fuck!"
Jared kissed him again, a little faster. "You'll be fine, I promise. Even if you forget all your blocking, just find your light, wait for your cues, and the rest does itself. I promise."
To his surprise, Jensen looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, about that… what does that mean? Find your light? Everybody keeps telling me than, and I have no idea what it even means."
Jared threw back his head with a bark of laughter. "Oh my God, you poor bastard. You should have just asked, I would have told you."
Jensen scowled. "I'm asking now, okay? Screw you, not everybody was raised with knowledge of the theatre breastfed to them."
"Aw," Jared mocked gently, patting him on the shoulder. "It's simple. The lights are hot, so when you're standing out there, turn until you can feel the heat on your face, and that means you're being properly lit. That's all it means."
Out on the stage, the cry went up: "A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come!"
Jensen blew out a breath. "Okay. Okay, I can do that."
Jared kissed him one last time. "Break a leg. If you get through without a mistake," he dropped his voice to a husky whisper that made Jensen shudder violently, "I promise you that we'll celebrate tonight in a way you'll never forget."
He gave Jensen a none-too-gentle shove toward the stage before taking off at a sprint towards his booth. Jenny rolled her eyes at him, handed him his headset, and then flipped him the bird as he dropped into his seat and flipped to the right page in his script.
"Really?" she mouthed, and he shrugged in an apology that they both knew wasn't particularly sincere.
He leaned forward as Jensen strode out onto the stage, cloak billowing out behind him as he moved. There was no trace now of his earlier awkward shyness, the anxiety that had threatened to make him empty his stomach backstage. Jensen was gone, replaced by Macbeth, newly appointed Thane of Cawdor.
"So fair and foul a day I have not seen!"
Jared let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He downed his hot chocolate-long since gone tepid-in a few swallows, and grinned at Jenny.
Jenny nodded back at him. "He's very good."
And when the curtain came down and the audience leapt to their feet with a roar of appreciation, Jared couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly. If all the world was a stage, he thought, quoting entirely the wrong play to himself, then he was definitely looking forward to the second act of this new play in which he'd found himself.
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