True Romance... on the side - chapter 3

[roguemouse]

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Vancouver, March

".. and judge me all you want, but I went through his coat pockets," Tom finished his confession. Submission to his friends’ criticism was clearly painted across his handsome, although slightly pale face.

Chad and Jared sighed at the same time.

They’d both known Tom for a while now - Jared worked with him on a movie, and Chad met Tom through Jared - but their friends’ naïveté and obsessive need to date married men still boggled their minds.

It was mid March and the air was hot and moist, dark clouds waiting to pour with rain. They were sitting in an outdoor pub, on one of their weekly “catching up” meetings. As always, the discussion ranged from love issues and relationship problems, to sex conquests. The latter mostly on Chad’s part. Even though he was straight, Chad enjoyed meeting with Jared, who had been his friend since they worked together on the TV show “Glamour Gals” a couple years back.

As for Tom, he was a really great guy to hang out with, even if he was gay. That is, he was great to hang out with, when he wasn’t being whiny and emotionally challenged. But at least now he wasn't mopping.

Suddenly, a particularly fine male specimen walked by their table.

“Meanwhile…” Jared said, grinning. His use of the gay codeword for ‘hot guy in spotting distance’ made Tom look up from his drink. They both stared after the guy with lewd smiles on their faces.

Chad sighed, then groaned.

"Why the hell did you look through his stuff?," he asked, trying to keep his voice down even though he was beginning to get annoyed. “God, I swear… you’re so clueless sometimes, it just makes me wanna hit you over the head with Liberace!” Chad said, proving once more, how ‘in’ with the gay crowd he was.

It was typical of Tom to fall for the wrong guy at the wrong time and then make a fuss about it.

“Some days I love you, but some days I just wanna sell you to the mob,” Chad sighed in exasperation.

Tom lifted his head. “Which one, the New York Russians or the Hollywood Jews?”

“I don’t really think Hollywood can be considered mafia,” Chad noted.

“Have you even been in L.A. lately?”

Chad tilted his head, pondering. “Hm, good point.”

Jared decided to butt into the conversation. “We’re serious, Tom. And we’re worried about you. Each time we met up, you keep talking about this guy. You should dump him. He’s making you unhappy. I mean, it’s not like he’s ever going to leave his wife.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?!” Jared snapped. “Honestly,” he looked at Chad, half-angry, half-amused, “it’s pathetic. ‘S like watching drunk Bambi with ADHD try to cross an icy pond.”

“And funny, too. Better than wrestling midgets,” Chad chuckled, very pleased with himself.

“You know, bitchiness doesn’t really go with what you’re wearing. It’s a really fugly shirt. You should throw it out!” Tom quipped angrily.

Jared sighed. This conversation wasn’t going the way he had hoped. Actually, it was going the exact opposite. Chad - and Jared too, though he didn’t want to admit it - were turning this into some sort of ‘lets see who can make the funniest joke at Tom’s expense” contest.

“Ooooh, scary,” Chad pretended to shiver at Tom’s angry expression. “Or at least it would be, if you weren’t wearing plaid.”

Jared shot Chad a look that was supposed to calm him down, but instead only made it worse.

"Don't you give me that look, Padalecki. Fashion tips and old-lady bickering aside, we have a point. And lets not beat around the bush. You know as well as I do, that what Tom did, was a dumbass move and that by next week he’ll probably be crying himself to sleep, listening to Barbra Streisands’ "The Way We Were".”

Tom slouched his shoulders as if attempting to hide from Chad's glare. Jared, playing the role of mediator between his friends, patted Tom on the back, urging him to go on with his story.

"Anyway," Tom continued, looking pointedly at Chad, "I found a receipt for a new, 1500 dollar rug he and his wife bought just two days ago."

"What do they need a new rug for? I would've bought..." Chad began to speak, but Tom quickly cut him off.

"Yes, we know: you'd buy a truckload of porn. Or a blow-up doll. But that's not the point. The point is, you should really throw out that shirt.”

“Tom, can you be serious for a while?”

“I am serious. Throw it out.”

Jared decided to interject again. “Stop it, Tom. You really have a problem. You need help.”
“Of course I have a problem!” Tom threw his arms in the air. “If he's buying a new rug with his wife, it means he's never going to leave her!"

"And that's new information how? You've known that since you started sleeping with him," Chad pointed out. His expression softened as he saw Tom slouch in his seat.

"You're right, you're right. I know you're right."

Jared and Chad exchanged half-amused looks. All three of them knew that no matter what he said, Tom would continued to date - and bitch about - his married lover.

"Why can't you find someone who's single?" Chad shrugged, sipping his drink. “I don’t have trouble with that.”

“Yeah, but you’re not gay. That’s different,” Tom pointed out.

Chad pondered this. “Okay, let me rephrase: Jared didn’t have trouble finding someone when he was single.”

“True. But he got the last good one.”

Chad grinned. “I’m not even gay and I have to agree,” he winked at Jared. "I bet you Jared's boyfriend knows a lot of single guys who'd love to tap your fine ass," Chad joked, forcing a smile out of Tom.

Jared wiggled in his chair uncomfortably.

"What's up your pipe?" Chad raised an eyebrow.

Jared sighed quietly and looked at his friends with a little sad smile. "We broke up."

"What?"

"When?"

His friends spoke through one another, shocked and sympathizing.

"About a week ago," Jared muttered and hid a crooked smile behind his drink, as both Tom and Chad cursed him for not telling them earlier.

"So you're saying he's available?" Tom asked shyly after a moment of silence, earning a glare from Chad.

"Dude! That is beyond even someone as fucked up as you," he groaned, giving Jared a reassuring look. "Can't you see he's upset?"

Jared chuckled lightly as his friends growled at each other, almost getting into a rumble right then and there. He half expected them to break into show tune, shouting “Jets” and “Sharks” at each other. Then again, Chad was straight. So the chances of that happening were slim.

"I'm not upset. We talked and decided to cut it off before we get more involved then we should," Jared explained to his still mildly shocked friends. "We were drifting apart anyway."

"But you had someone!" Tom exclaimed passionately, always the commitment-type. "You had someone to hug and come home to and talk to and..."

"...have wild, passionate, kinky sex with," Chad finished Tom's litany with an evil smirk.

“I never thought of myself as kinky,” Jared noted, not even bothering to blush.

Tom smirked. “Me neither.”

“What do you mean ‘me neither’?” Chad raised an eyebrow. “You’re gay. You have kinky built-in.”

“Sure, that’s why I joined,” Tom laughed, loud and sincere, for the first time since they started talking. With the appearance of that laugh, Jared knew the quarrel between his friends’ was over.

"Really guys, I'm okay. I needed a few days to cope, but now I'm just peachy," Jared used his squeaky, overly-gay voice to make his friends laugh.

"Sure. So how many days did you spend walling in your little pink pillow, eating Ben&Jerry’s, whining about how no one loves you?"

Chad tried to duck the smack on the head Jared was about to give him. However Jared was bigger. And he had longer hands.

"Jerk."

"Bitch," Chad barked back, rubbing at the place on his head where he got hit.

"Honey, with this face? I could be a regular man-whore. Nothing but cash and bling-bling.”
Jared noticed with pride, that he still possessed the ability to make his friends topple over their chairs with glee.

"Anyway," Tom finally managed to snort out, "since you're a free man now, you're going to a Toro-Toro with me. Tonight."

"Tommy, I'm not ready to go out yet," Jared winced. Then he looked at Chad. “And you so much as whistle the tune to ‘I Wanna Take You To A Gay Bar’ and as God is my witness, I’ll push you in front of a speeding Porsche.”

The blonde sunk into his chair, sulking.

“Okay, we get it - you don’t wanna go to a gay bar. But why?" Tom turned to face Jared. "You said you were over him, right?"

"I am. But...” Jared tried to think of a good reason not to go. "... I'm in a mourning period," he finished lamely.

Chad sneered into his glass and muttered something that sounded awfully like "little pink pillow". Tom shot him an amused glance, then looked back at Jared with a sly smile.

"If Toro-Toro isn’t your thing, how about Cock-tail? It’s ladies night," he tempted.

Jared pondered for a while. "Can I wear your azure cutoff CK shirt?"

"Of course!"

"In that case… no."

"Why?" Tom whined, his legs already itching to dance.

"Because," the other man gulped on his drink, "there's no point in me meeting someone who I might’ve really like if I met him at the right time, but who right now would have no chance of being more to me than just a transition guy," he stated.

Chad looked at Tom. "I don't know about you, but I stopped listening after 'because'."

Jared tried to hit him again. This time Chad managed to duck in time.

"I still think you should take your chance, Jared," Tom patted his friends knee. "I mean, you never know what'll happen tomorrow. Remember Misha?"

"The drag queen? The one that broke his heel and fell under a subway train?" Jared didn't get the point.

"Well imagine that was you and that you died knowing you were too afraid to grab life by the balls, go out to a club and meet someone knew."

Indignation rang in Jared’s. "I'm am not afraid!"

"God, you’re insufferable!" Tom threw up his arms in exasperation. "I just think it's stupid not taking the risk. Who knows? Maybe the right guy for you is out there right now?"

"Tom's right, you know," Chad butted in, ignoring Jared's ‘stop talking, if you value your life’ stare. "He might have his own fucked-up relationship issues, but the man's got a point.” This time it was Tom’s turn to glare at Chad.

"You have to take your chances, Jared!" Tom accentuated his words with a firm smack to the table. "And when you finally find that special someone, wrap them around your finger before someone else does. Or you'll spend the rest of your life imagining your dream-guy sleeping with some no-brain gym-bunny from San Francisco," he finished morbidly.

Jared had to admit it was a terrifying vision.

"Alright,” he agreed finally. “Toro-Toro it is.”

Tom’s grin was lewd as he raised his glass in a toast. "Let's go crazy tonight!”

Chad jumped up from his chair and did a mocking mini-wave. “Woo hoo! Gays gone wild!”

Both Jared and Tom deadpanned.

“Chad.”

“What?”

“Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Chad did his best puppy-dog pout. “Fine.”

“And may I have one suggestion?” Tom winked at Jared.

“What?”

“That shirt. Seriously, Chad. Throw.it.out.”




"When did this happen?"

"Last Monday."

It was late Thursday and Jensen had invited Mike over to watch the game. They were vegged out on the couch, surrounded by beer bottles and bags of chips, a bowl of popcorn sitting firmly between them, as they glanced at the TV.

"What happened?"

Jensen averted his eyes from the screen and sighed. He loved Mike. In the completely ‘Bros For Life’, non-homosexual way, of course. And even though the guy had flaws - and lots of’em - Jensen couldn't begin to express how thankful he was for his friend being here tonight. The last thing he needed was to sit alone in the dark and pine over his ruined relationship.

"She comes home and, completely out of the blue, says: I'm not sure I want to be married anymore," he muttered at the beer bottle in his hand, nodding appreciatively at Mike's shocked gasp. "Like it's the concept, the institution that bothers her, not the relationship itself." Mike nodded, urging him on. "I calmly asked her if maybe she could think about it, so we don't rush into things, y'know?"

"Right."

"The next day, she says she'd thought about it and she wants a trial separation."

"But that's pointless," Mike practically shouted at the TV, angered by a lousy pass of the ball. "A trial separation? So what, you're going to date your wife? You're married! She's supposed to love you no matter what!" he exclaimed, turning in his seat to take a closer look at Jensen.

"That's what I said.” He looked down at his lap. To tell the truth, no matter how much he liked Michael, he still felt a bit embarrassed talking about his love life. "So I asked her: Don't you love me anymore?... And do you know what she said?" Mike shook his head, waiting for Jensen to continue. "I don't know if I've ever loved you."

"Oh, that's harsh." Michael was clearly shocked, but before he could say anything else, they were both cheering, when their team scored another touchdown, winning the game.

"Seriously, man," Mike continued, after turning off the TV, "that's a killer line."

"Thanks, man," Jensen glared at his friend sarcastically. "You're a real pal."

"No, I mean it," the other man made a vague hand gesture. "I'm an actor... I know a thing or two about killer lines and that's not one you can easily bounce back from."

"Anyway," Jensen gave Mike a skeptical look, "she says a friend from work can sublet her their apartment. And before I can argue there's a knock on the door. I open it and there are moving men there. That's when I started to get suspicious..."

"So when did she call the movers?" Mike was surprisingly quick to understand.

"A week ago. So I ask her: you knew all this time and you didn't tell me. And she said: I didn't want to ruin your birthday," Jensen finished his relation.

Mike grunted. "You're saying the movers knew you were getting divorced a week before you did?"

"Yup."

"That bitch."

"But I haven't told you the best part yet," Jensen sighed.

"What could be worse than the movers knowing?" Michael couldn't hide his slight amusement. Jensen ignored the smile on his friend's face.

"She was lying."

"What do you mean?"

"She's in love with someone else. A... scriptwriter," Jensen and Mike both winced at the notion. "She's moving in with him."

Michael began to get suspicious. "How did you find out."

Jensen shuffled his feet, wrapping his hand around the beer bottle and taking a long swig. "I followed her," he mumbled, extremely embarrassed.

"Now that's humiliating.”

"Tell me about it," Jensen smirked unwillingly. "But y'know what? Fuck her! I knew sooner or later she'd screw me over! Actresses," he growled, finishing his beer in one gulp and smacking the bottle on the coffee table.

"Jensen..."

He looked up at Mike, knowing he should listen. Michael rarely used his full name, but when he did, he had something important to say. "Marriages don't break up on account of infidelity. It's just proof that something else in the relationship is wrong."

Jensen's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh really? Cause that proof is currently fucking my wife."

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