rps: hit me with your best shot [jared/jensen, jared/van, pg-13]
Yeah, so, I COMPLETELY FAIL AT PORN TODAY. *sigh* Totally PG-13, people, so I don’t know what to tell you. I might write the Jared/Van NC-17 outtake eventually, but right now…eh. If anyone ELSE wants to give it a go, or even write the Jared/Jensen smut to follow, then by all means…feel free! I think my other works have me all sexed-out at the moment. D:
FREAKING PG-13. Haha. What’s even the point, right? *ashamed*
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Title: hit me with your best shot
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, minor Jared Padalecki/Van Hansis
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for dirty thoughts | m/m slash, real person fiction featuring supergay!van, depressingly-gay!jensen, and questionably-gay!jared.
Word Count: 2,675
Summary: And sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way you plan.
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened, silly.
Notes: Van Hansis is an incredible talent from As the World Turns. Write it down.
Glanced over by raynedanser, who took pity on my attempt at non-porn! <3
“Like sands through the hourglass,” someone snickers, and yeah, it was definitely a mistake to come here. “So are the days of our--fuck, Jensen, that hurts!”
Jensen turns to find Jared frowning at him, rubbing his belly where Jensen’s elbow just made direct contact. He ignores the feigned injury in Jared’s ridiculously enigmatic gaze and instead looks for the nearest beverage table.
His hands are practically shaking.
“Hey,” Jared says a second later, reaching out and closing strong fingers around the satin cuff of Jensen’s sleeve. “Would you relax already? You’re like a ticking time-bomb from a damn Tom Cruise movie.”
Making a desperate grab for a glass of champagne, Jensen tips the startled waiter and takes a deep breath before turning to face his co-star again. “I’m fine,” he lies, smile too bright, throat too tight. Jared’s just staring at him with faint amusement in his eyes and Jensen huffs out, “I just…you know, we really didn’t have to come here.”
You really didn’t have to come here, is what he means, although Jared’s not nearly as slow as he sometimes lets people think so Jensen figures his friend already figured that part out. Jensen brings the glass to his lips again, before one broad palm covers his mouth.
“Okay, let’s get something straight, Ackles.” Jensen lifts surprised, wary eyes to Jared’s and finds an almost tender expression waiting there. “You wanted to come to this thing…for whatever reason, and I wanted to be here with you. The end. All right?”
But despite the finality and warmth in Jared’s voice, Jensen can’t let it go. “It’s not like I’m even up for anything,” he mumbles, looking around the room where daytime’s biggest stars are mingling and preparing for the biggest event in television. That same, panicky threat rears up to choke him, and he sets his glass on a table and moves past Jared. “Yeah, this is ridiculous, Jay, and we should just--”
“Stay here and enjoy ourselves,” Jared interrupts cheerfully, pulling him up short by the collar, and Jensen bites his lip.
“I just--”
“Staying right here, Jen.”
“But--”
“Oh, zip it already.”
So Jensen does. Which presents a problem of a different color, because now that he’s forced to pay attention to something else, all he can see is the reason he’s here in the first place. It’s a little horrifying to realize he would stoop so low, take advantage of old friends and connections just to get Jared fucking Padalecki in a suit and drunk and out where Jensen could put out some feelers…see if there was anything worth feeling.
He can’t do it in Vancouver; it’s just too close to home for either one of them. And there are too many people who already suspect, and Jensen just plain isn’t ready to broadcast to the world that he has the hots for his younger, funnier, oughta-come-with-a-warning-label co-star and best friend. At least not until said co-star broadcasts it right back.
Which is where the problems begin. Jared is a Texas boy in every sense of the word, likes fried coke and square-dancing, and Jensen figures those inclinations probably run bone-deep to the more “manly ideals”, as well. It’s hard to imagine Jared returning any of the confusing, twisted feelings Jensen’s been fighting for months, but it’s equally hard to face the idea of this going on any longer without some sort of resolution.
“So, do you know any of these people?” Jared’s asking, and Jensen snaps back to attention, skimming the area until he finds where Jared’s looking. Some pretty, perky brunette from Young and the Restless that Jensen most definitely doesn’t know, but that doesn’t stop her from catching his eye and smiling back in invitation.
“Some,” he says, which is the truth. Deidre’s here, and Ali, and Austin…and oh god, but he doesn’t want to talk to any of them. They all knew him back before he learned any sense, before he was able to hide himself inside himself, and it’s all just way too intimate for Jensen’s frame of mind at the moment.
Yeah, it was definitely a mistake to come here.
Then Jared’s grabbing his forearm, angling Jensen around until he’s facing the back of the room. “Who,” he asks, “is that?”
Jensen blinks at the interest in Jared’s voice and squints to make out the slouched, blond figure against the wall, laughing it up with Maura West and some curly, dark-haired kid who vaguely reminds Jensen of Shia LaBeouf, and looks maybe even more uncomfortable than Jensen feels.
“Who?” Jensen asks unnecessarily, because he knows. He knows, and something sick and disgusting and green to the gills rises up inside of him as he watches Jared watch the blond kid without even trying to hide the fact that he’s staring. When it comes, his voice is edged and sharp. “I don’t know.”
Jared’s mouth is slow to curl, and despite his insanity, jealousy, Jensen can’t deny the heat that warps his belly when Jared turns determined eyes and grin on him. “So, let’s find out.”
Jared’s halfway across the room before Jensen’s synapses fire a signal to his brain to move, and by the time he makes it back to Jared’s side, his friend’s already laughing and kissing Maura West’s hand.
“’S a pleasure, ma’am,” Jared’s saying, and Jensen rolls his eyes at the pretty flush on her features. He’s met Maura once or twice, and she’s a nice enough lady, but Jensen still remembers that narrow-eyed, gimlet stare he got on ma’am’ing her to death, and doesn’t it just figure that Jared can get away with it?
“Jesus Christ.” He’s disgusted at Jared, himself, and then he realizes that he’s being watched by the blond kid who, on closer inspection, is actually the new face of Luke Snyder from As the World Turns.
Jensen’s been out of the daytime scene for years, with no desire to return to it--despite this sudden crazy idea to show up at their fucking Emmys--but he’s stayed enough on the fringes to know the goings on. This kid is the real deal, and he’s got a storyline to prove it. Jensen only wishes Eric Brady ever had anything half as juicy as a coming-of-age gay love story.
“Hey, there,” the kid says, and smiles pleasantly enough, albeit with more than a little curiosity. “You look familiar.”
Apparently this is the moment Jared was waiting for, because he slips an arm around Jensen’s shoulders in a--depressingly--friendly squeeze. “Damn right, he does. Jensen here’s an old pro, right Jen? Emmy nominated and all that shit.”
“Really,” the guy says, eyes twinkling, and Jensen sighs. “Days, right?”
Jensen just nods, and wishes for another drink.
“Now don’t be so modest, Jensen.” Jared’s eyes are gleaming with wicked intentions, and Jensen stifles a groan deep down in his throat. “My boy here’s the gen-u-wine article. Leaves women weeping for joy in the supermarket and begging to marry him at the checkout counter.”
“Oh, that bad, huh?” The guy’s eyes light up, with humor, sympathy--Jensen can’t tell which--and he clucks his tongue. “We’ve all heard the Eric Brady horror stories, man. Sucks.” He waits a beat, then holds out a hand. “Van Hansis, As the World Turns. I’m a big fan, actually…watch you both every week.”
Somehow Maura and Shia have disappeared, and now it’s only Jensen, Jared, and this Van--who’s both much too nice and way too adorable for Jensen’s frame of mind. Especially when Jared’s yet to take his eyes off the guy, and really, what the hell?
“Thanks,” Jensen forces out, because, hell, his mama did teach him manners. But Jared’s already talking over him, leaning in way too close to get his point across, arm still around Jensen and nearly choking him in the process.
“My sister’s a big fan of yours. She’s into all this soap shit. Uh, no offense,” he adds belatedly and with a blinding grin that Jensen figures would make it hard for anyone to take offense even if they weren’t head over heels for the guy. Not that he’s biased or anything. “So, hey…can I ask you something that’s probably totally out of line?”
Van smirks, lets his eyes travel the long, long length of Jared’s body, and Jensen wants to punch his face in. “Something tells me it’d be pretty hard to stop you.”
And Jared’s leaning even closer, devilish entertainment glittering in those half-lidded eyes. “So…are you? Really? Inquiring minds wanna know, man.”
Van waits a beat, tongue touching the corner of his mouth, and Jensen holds his breath. Half-expecting that maybe Van will punch Jared, and at least it’ll put an end to this horrifying display of bizarro-flirting that makes him want to strangle himself.
Then Van just leans back on his heels and chuckles. “What do you think?”
Jared’s eyes light up, and Jensen considers just knocking himself out.
xxx
Soap actors are really kind of a bunch of assholes.
“I hear ya,” the bartender says, and pours him another shot of…well, Jensen can’t really remember anymore. Something extra fruity, though, because it just seems appropriate under the circumstances.
“I mean, they’re all such fucking drama queens,” Jensen slurs, waving an arm to punctuate his point. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves nearly an hour ago, right around the time Jared and Van disappeared to wherever overdramatic, horny, surprisingly-gay assholes without a conscience go to do things Jensen doesn’t really want to think about. He downs the shot with a grimace. “Oh, god.”
The barkeep pours him another, but his brows draw together. “You know, you look kind of familiar…”
“I’m an asshole, too, Steve,” Jensen sighs.
“Uh, my name isn’t--”
“I coulda made a name for myself, you know. In massage therapy. Probably. Anyway, I coulda done something else. I bet Van the man doesn’t know the difference between a goddamn foot massage and reflexology.”
“Sounds like a loser to me,” the bartender says helpfully.
“You know…” Jensen cocks his head, thoughtful. “I never really liked Jared’s hair much.”
“Steve” smiles uncertainly, moving quickly away to serve someone else, and Jensen hangs his head because, who is he kidding? He has fever dreams about Jared’s big hair and Jared’s big feet and Jared’s big, stupid, stupid gay face.
The asshole.
He wonders if it would be really cliché and awful to lay his head down and cry in his beer, and then a hand claps his shoulder and squeezes.
“Hey, there you are.”
Jensen briefly closes his eyes, a polite greeting on his tongue that burns away the second he turns and sees Van’s appearance. There’s no mistaking that satisfied flush. He can’t look away from the glaze in Van’s eyes.
And Van’s either not as smart as he looks, or even more of an asshole than Jensen ever suspected, because he’s grinning like a great, big douchebag with sex hair and sitting down next to Jensen. “Your friend’s pretty, ah, impressive,” he laughs self-consciously, and Jensen wants to scream.
Instead, he simply lets his eyes run cool until Van shifts in his seat and bites his tongue. There’s something almost mischievous in Van’s expression, but Jensen’s a little too angry and a little too drunk to think too hard on it.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, Jensen trying not to think about the fact that he can smell Jared’s cologne on the guy, and wanting to ask where his co-star even is. Just as he’s ready to give in and demand to know-all, though, Van leans in close.
“I’d just stop running if I were you.”
Jensen’s neck almost snaps, he turns his head so quick. He can’t help the edge of confusion from entering his voice, or the pang of guilt and longing and frustration on seeing Van’s sympathetic gaze. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Jared seemed pretty determined to prove something,” is all Van says, and his eyes go over Jensen’s shoulder. The barest hint of a smirk curls at the corners of his mouth. “I’d wish you luck, but I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” He stands up to move away, and then hesitates. “And hey, talk to someone in the writing department about bringing in some mummies or something soon, yeah? That’s some shit I’d like to see.”
Jensen just stares after him, blinking slow, and then finds Jared sitting in Van’s seat and watching him with narrowed eyes. “Oh. It’s you,” Jensen says grumpily, unable to keep from noticing the hickey on his friend’s neck. His fingers fumble for his glass. “How’d you guys find me, anyway?”
“You’re like fucking Hansel and Gretel, Jensen.” Jared holds up a few articles of clothing--Jensen’s jacket, his tie, his cufflinks--and scowls. “Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find your way back? How drunk are you right now, anyway?”
“Not drunk enough,” is Jensen’s answer, and Jared seems almost disappointed.
“I think we should talk.”
“Yeah? So do I.” Jensen slams down his glass and turns toward his best friend, his confidant, big, gay, Jared fucking Padalecki. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Jared glances around, takes Jensen by the elbow. “About what?” he asks calmly, even as he gently maneuvers Jensen from the bar.
“About…what?” Jensen blinks heavy lashes, sees Jared smile back at him.
“Okay, there’s probably going to be no good time to tell you this, so I’m just gonna say it and hope you don’t faint or hit me or do something equally girly.” Jared shoves him out the door and Jensen stumbles into a dark alley, back up against the brick wall building-side.
Before he can get his bearings, Jared’s right there--hands big and warm against his shoulders, steadying, and Jensen can see the gleam of Jared’s ridiculously polished teeth in the moonlight. “Jay…” he begins, unsure of what’s happening, because this? Wasn’t the way he planned it.
“I’m gay, Jensen.” Jared’s words are soft, but sure. He pauses, then shrugs both shoulders. “Okay, not totally gay. I’m working it all out still, and Van helped some, but the fact is that I’m really pretty damn gay for you. And I know you’re gay, okay, you think it’s this big horrible secret, but then you go and wear pressed linen and it’s just.” He shoves both hands through his hair and laughs a little. “Together we’re this big gay…fagfest, and it’s time we just admitted it to each other! Hoist the rainbow sail, do some home decorating…before I bend you over and introduce you to the backseat of my car.”
“Wuh,” is all Jensen can get out. Jared’s watching him with hot eyes and a mouth still bruised from kissing and, wow, hello bucket of ice water. “Are you telling me you fooled around with Van, figured out you’re queer, and now you wanna fuck around with me?”
“Um,” Jared has the grace to look somewhat sheepish. “Not the exact words I’d use, but…yes? Maybe?”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Does this mean no sex?” Jared looks truly horrified, and it’s enough to make Jensen lose it. He’s not sure why any of this is funny, except it really kind of is, and even the idea of Jared testing his gayness out on Van fucking Hansis before coming out to Jensen is sort of hilarious in a ridiculous kind of way that Jensen’s going to hold over Jared’s head for the rest of his life, or until Jared starts giving him orgasms on a regular basis.
Jared’s mouth goes slack, and his eyes light up. “Oh, you bet,” he says, and Jensen really needs to learn how to have a better conversation with himself.
“Jensen.” Jared’s even closer than before, and now he’s laughing, too. “Hey. I’m gonna kiss you, all right? Is…is that okay?”
Jensen reaches around the back of Jared’s head, pulls his co-stars mouth to his. “How about we just blow each other instead and call it a day.”
FREAKING PG-13. Haha. What’s even the point, right? *ashamed*
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Title: hit me with your best shot
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, minor Jared Padalecki/Van Hansis
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for dirty thoughts | m/m slash, real person fiction featuring supergay!van, depressingly-gay!jensen, and questionably-gay!jared.
Word Count: 2,675
Summary: And sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way you plan.
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened, silly.
Notes: Van Hansis is an incredible talent from As the World Turns. Write it down.
Glanced over by raynedanser, who took pity on my attempt at non-porn! <3
“Like sands through the hourglass,” someone snickers, and yeah, it was definitely a mistake to come here. “So are the days of our--fuck, Jensen, that hurts!”
Jensen turns to find Jared frowning at him, rubbing his belly where Jensen’s elbow just made direct contact. He ignores the feigned injury in Jared’s ridiculously enigmatic gaze and instead looks for the nearest beverage table.
His hands are practically shaking.
“Hey,” Jared says a second later, reaching out and closing strong fingers around the satin cuff of Jensen’s sleeve. “Would you relax already? You’re like a ticking time-bomb from a damn Tom Cruise movie.”
Making a desperate grab for a glass of champagne, Jensen tips the startled waiter and takes a deep breath before turning to face his co-star again. “I’m fine,” he lies, smile too bright, throat too tight. Jared’s just staring at him with faint amusement in his eyes and Jensen huffs out, “I just…you know, we really didn’t have to come here.”
You really didn’t have to come here, is what he means, although Jared’s not nearly as slow as he sometimes lets people think so Jensen figures his friend already figured that part out. Jensen brings the glass to his lips again, before one broad palm covers his mouth.
“Okay, let’s get something straight, Ackles.” Jensen lifts surprised, wary eyes to Jared’s and finds an almost tender expression waiting there. “You wanted to come to this thing…for whatever reason, and I wanted to be here with you. The end. All right?”
But despite the finality and warmth in Jared’s voice, Jensen can’t let it go. “It’s not like I’m even up for anything,” he mumbles, looking around the room where daytime’s biggest stars are mingling and preparing for the biggest event in television. That same, panicky threat rears up to choke him, and he sets his glass on a table and moves past Jared. “Yeah, this is ridiculous, Jay, and we should just--”
“Stay here and enjoy ourselves,” Jared interrupts cheerfully, pulling him up short by the collar, and Jensen bites his lip.
“I just--”
“Staying right here, Jen.”
“But--”
“Oh, zip it already.”
So Jensen does. Which presents a problem of a different color, because now that he’s forced to pay attention to something else, all he can see is the reason he’s here in the first place. It’s a little horrifying to realize he would stoop so low, take advantage of old friends and connections just to get Jared fucking Padalecki in a suit and drunk and out where Jensen could put out some feelers…see if there was anything worth feeling.
He can’t do it in Vancouver; it’s just too close to home for either one of them. And there are too many people who already suspect, and Jensen just plain isn’t ready to broadcast to the world that he has the hots for his younger, funnier, oughta-come-with-a-warning-label co-star and best friend. At least not until said co-star broadcasts it right back.
Which is where the problems begin. Jared is a Texas boy in every sense of the word, likes fried coke and square-dancing, and Jensen figures those inclinations probably run bone-deep to the more “manly ideals”, as well. It’s hard to imagine Jared returning any of the confusing, twisted feelings Jensen’s been fighting for months, but it’s equally hard to face the idea of this going on any longer without some sort of resolution.
“So, do you know any of these people?” Jared’s asking, and Jensen snaps back to attention, skimming the area until he finds where Jared’s looking. Some pretty, perky brunette from Young and the Restless that Jensen most definitely doesn’t know, but that doesn’t stop her from catching his eye and smiling back in invitation.
“Some,” he says, which is the truth. Deidre’s here, and Ali, and Austin…and oh god, but he doesn’t want to talk to any of them. They all knew him back before he learned any sense, before he was able to hide himself inside himself, and it’s all just way too intimate for Jensen’s frame of mind at the moment.
Yeah, it was definitely a mistake to come here.
Then Jared’s grabbing his forearm, angling Jensen around until he’s facing the back of the room. “Who,” he asks, “is that?”
Jensen blinks at the interest in Jared’s voice and squints to make out the slouched, blond figure against the wall, laughing it up with Maura West and some curly, dark-haired kid who vaguely reminds Jensen of Shia LaBeouf, and looks maybe even more uncomfortable than Jensen feels.
“Who?” Jensen asks unnecessarily, because he knows. He knows, and something sick and disgusting and green to the gills rises up inside of him as he watches Jared watch the blond kid without even trying to hide the fact that he’s staring. When it comes, his voice is edged and sharp. “I don’t know.”
Jared’s mouth is slow to curl, and despite his insanity, jealousy, Jensen can’t deny the heat that warps his belly when Jared turns determined eyes and grin on him. “So, let’s find out.”
Jared’s halfway across the room before Jensen’s synapses fire a signal to his brain to move, and by the time he makes it back to Jared’s side, his friend’s already laughing and kissing Maura West’s hand.
“’S a pleasure, ma’am,” Jared’s saying, and Jensen rolls his eyes at the pretty flush on her features. He’s met Maura once or twice, and she’s a nice enough lady, but Jensen still remembers that narrow-eyed, gimlet stare he got on ma’am’ing her to death, and doesn’t it just figure that Jared can get away with it?
“Jesus Christ.” He’s disgusted at Jared, himself, and then he realizes that he’s being watched by the blond kid who, on closer inspection, is actually the new face of Luke Snyder from As the World Turns.
Jensen’s been out of the daytime scene for years, with no desire to return to it--despite this sudden crazy idea to show up at their fucking Emmys--but he’s stayed enough on the fringes to know the goings on. This kid is the real deal, and he’s got a storyline to prove it. Jensen only wishes Eric Brady ever had anything half as juicy as a coming-of-age gay love story.
“Hey, there,” the kid says, and smiles pleasantly enough, albeit with more than a little curiosity. “You look familiar.”
Apparently this is the moment Jared was waiting for, because he slips an arm around Jensen’s shoulders in a--depressingly--friendly squeeze. “Damn right, he does. Jensen here’s an old pro, right Jen? Emmy nominated and all that shit.”
“Really,” the guy says, eyes twinkling, and Jensen sighs. “Days, right?”
Jensen just nods, and wishes for another drink.
“Now don’t be so modest, Jensen.” Jared’s eyes are gleaming with wicked intentions, and Jensen stifles a groan deep down in his throat. “My boy here’s the gen-u-wine article. Leaves women weeping for joy in the supermarket and begging to marry him at the checkout counter.”
“Oh, that bad, huh?” The guy’s eyes light up, with humor, sympathy--Jensen can’t tell which--and he clucks his tongue. “We’ve all heard the Eric Brady horror stories, man. Sucks.” He waits a beat, then holds out a hand. “Van Hansis, As the World Turns. I’m a big fan, actually…watch you both every week.”
Somehow Maura and Shia have disappeared, and now it’s only Jensen, Jared, and this Van--who’s both much too nice and way too adorable for Jensen’s frame of mind. Especially when Jared’s yet to take his eyes off the guy, and really, what the hell?
“Thanks,” Jensen forces out, because, hell, his mama did teach him manners. But Jared’s already talking over him, leaning in way too close to get his point across, arm still around Jensen and nearly choking him in the process.
“My sister’s a big fan of yours. She’s into all this soap shit. Uh, no offense,” he adds belatedly and with a blinding grin that Jensen figures would make it hard for anyone to take offense even if they weren’t head over heels for the guy. Not that he’s biased or anything. “So, hey…can I ask you something that’s probably totally out of line?”
Van smirks, lets his eyes travel the long, long length of Jared’s body, and Jensen wants to punch his face in. “Something tells me it’d be pretty hard to stop you.”
And Jared’s leaning even closer, devilish entertainment glittering in those half-lidded eyes. “So…are you? Really? Inquiring minds wanna know, man.”
Van waits a beat, tongue touching the corner of his mouth, and Jensen holds his breath. Half-expecting that maybe Van will punch Jared, and at least it’ll put an end to this horrifying display of bizarro-flirting that makes him want to strangle himself.
Then Van just leans back on his heels and chuckles. “What do you think?”
Jared’s eyes light up, and Jensen considers just knocking himself out.
xxx
Soap actors are really kind of a bunch of assholes.
“I hear ya,” the bartender says, and pours him another shot of…well, Jensen can’t really remember anymore. Something extra fruity, though, because it just seems appropriate under the circumstances.
“I mean, they’re all such fucking drama queens,” Jensen slurs, waving an arm to punctuate his point. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves nearly an hour ago, right around the time Jared and Van disappeared to wherever overdramatic, horny, surprisingly-gay assholes without a conscience go to do things Jensen doesn’t really want to think about. He downs the shot with a grimace. “Oh, god.”
The barkeep pours him another, but his brows draw together. “You know, you look kind of familiar…”
“I’m an asshole, too, Steve,” Jensen sighs.
“Uh, my name isn’t--”
“I coulda made a name for myself, you know. In massage therapy. Probably. Anyway, I coulda done something else. I bet Van the man doesn’t know the difference between a goddamn foot massage and reflexology.”
“Sounds like a loser to me,” the bartender says helpfully.
“You know…” Jensen cocks his head, thoughtful. “I never really liked Jared’s hair much.”
“Steve” smiles uncertainly, moving quickly away to serve someone else, and Jensen hangs his head because, who is he kidding? He has fever dreams about Jared’s big hair and Jared’s big feet and Jared’s big, stupid, stupid gay face.
The asshole.
He wonders if it would be really cliché and awful to lay his head down and cry in his beer, and then a hand claps his shoulder and squeezes.
“Hey, there you are.”
Jensen briefly closes his eyes, a polite greeting on his tongue that burns away the second he turns and sees Van’s appearance. There’s no mistaking that satisfied flush. He can’t look away from the glaze in Van’s eyes.
And Van’s either not as smart as he looks, or even more of an asshole than Jensen ever suspected, because he’s grinning like a great, big douchebag with sex hair and sitting down next to Jensen. “Your friend’s pretty, ah, impressive,” he laughs self-consciously, and Jensen wants to scream.
Instead, he simply lets his eyes run cool until Van shifts in his seat and bites his tongue. There’s something almost mischievous in Van’s expression, but Jensen’s a little too angry and a little too drunk to think too hard on it.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, Jensen trying not to think about the fact that he can smell Jared’s cologne on the guy, and wanting to ask where his co-star even is. Just as he’s ready to give in and demand to know-all, though, Van leans in close.
“I’d just stop running if I were you.”
Jensen’s neck almost snaps, he turns his head so quick. He can’t help the edge of confusion from entering his voice, or the pang of guilt and longing and frustration on seeing Van’s sympathetic gaze. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Jared seemed pretty determined to prove something,” is all Van says, and his eyes go over Jensen’s shoulder. The barest hint of a smirk curls at the corners of his mouth. “I’d wish you luck, but I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” He stands up to move away, and then hesitates. “And hey, talk to someone in the writing department about bringing in some mummies or something soon, yeah? That’s some shit I’d like to see.”
Jensen just stares after him, blinking slow, and then finds Jared sitting in Van’s seat and watching him with narrowed eyes. “Oh. It’s you,” Jensen says grumpily, unable to keep from noticing the hickey on his friend’s neck. His fingers fumble for his glass. “How’d you guys find me, anyway?”
“You’re like fucking Hansel and Gretel, Jensen.” Jared holds up a few articles of clothing--Jensen’s jacket, his tie, his cufflinks--and scowls. “Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find your way back? How drunk are you right now, anyway?”
“Not drunk enough,” is Jensen’s answer, and Jared seems almost disappointed.
“I think we should talk.”
“Yeah? So do I.” Jensen slams down his glass and turns toward his best friend, his confidant, big, gay, Jared fucking Padalecki. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Jared glances around, takes Jensen by the elbow. “About what?” he asks calmly, even as he gently maneuvers Jensen from the bar.
“About…what?” Jensen blinks heavy lashes, sees Jared smile back at him.
“Okay, there’s probably going to be no good time to tell you this, so I’m just gonna say it and hope you don’t faint or hit me or do something equally girly.” Jared shoves him out the door and Jensen stumbles into a dark alley, back up against the brick wall building-side.
Before he can get his bearings, Jared’s right there--hands big and warm against his shoulders, steadying, and Jensen can see the gleam of Jared’s ridiculously polished teeth in the moonlight. “Jay…” he begins, unsure of what’s happening, because this? Wasn’t the way he planned it.
“I’m gay, Jensen.” Jared’s words are soft, but sure. He pauses, then shrugs both shoulders. “Okay, not totally gay. I’m working it all out still, and Van helped some, but the fact is that I’m really pretty damn gay for you. And I know you’re gay, okay, you think it’s this big horrible secret, but then you go and wear pressed linen and it’s just.” He shoves both hands through his hair and laughs a little. “Together we’re this big gay…fagfest, and it’s time we just admitted it to each other! Hoist the rainbow sail, do some home decorating…before I bend you over and introduce you to the backseat of my car.”
“Wuh,” is all Jensen can get out. Jared’s watching him with hot eyes and a mouth still bruised from kissing and, wow, hello bucket of ice water. “Are you telling me you fooled around with Van, figured out you’re queer, and now you wanna fuck around with me?”
“Um,” Jared has the grace to look somewhat sheepish. “Not the exact words I’d use, but…yes? Maybe?”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Does this mean no sex?” Jared looks truly horrified, and it’s enough to make Jensen lose it. He’s not sure why any of this is funny, except it really kind of is, and even the idea of Jared testing his gayness out on Van fucking Hansis before coming out to Jensen is sort of hilarious in a ridiculous kind of way that Jensen’s going to hold over Jared’s head for the rest of his life, or until Jared starts giving him orgasms on a regular basis.
Jared’s mouth goes slack, and his eyes light up. “Oh, you bet,” he says, and Jensen really needs to learn how to have a better conversation with himself.
“Jensen.” Jared’s even closer than before, and now he’s laughing, too. “Hey. I’m gonna kiss you, all right? Is…is that okay?”
Jensen reaches around the back of Jared’s head, pulls his co-stars mouth to his. “How about we just blow each other instead and call it a day.”