Fic: Subterranean Homesick Blues 2/?
Yesterday I wrote a lot - more than I've ever done in one sitting, and I thought I could finish it. But see, words just kept coming and this monster of a fic just kept getting longer and longer. As far as I can tell, I'm about halfway through and already at 11,000 words. It's definitely going to be the longest thing I've written yet.
She's a biggie.
Title: Subterranean Homesick Blues
Author: vicious_trade
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set three years in the future. When a friend passes away, Jensen flies to Vancouver for the funeral and somehow gets coerced into spending the weekend with more than a few familiar faces. He's pretty sure that if he can put the past behind them, drink enough beer, and stop himself from killing Chad, it'll be just like the old days. If he could just get Jared out of his head. A retelling of the Big Chill.
Warnings/Spoilers: Set assuming Supernatural ends after the fifth season. F-bombs galore, features some Jensen/Danneel and Tom/Mike. And Chad. Seriously, you've been warned.
Part One
Present Day
The rest of the proceedings go off without a hitch. There’s a coffin, a priest spewing a bunch of useless platitudes about death and the afterlife, and the sounds of women quietly sniffling in the aisles. It’s when the picture montage starts up, showing photo after photo of Jim’s smiling face that something in his brain finally clicks and suddenly there’s an ache in the middle of his chest and a hollow feeling in his stomach.
They’re showing a lot of pictures from their Supernatural days, and Jensen gets so engrossed that he doesn’t hear the doors to the church open and close with a muted thud. It’s when he feels Danneel twist to look and go completely still beside him that he finally turns, even though a part of him already knows.
Jared is standing at the back of the church, one hand still on the doorknob as he awkwardly tries to slink in unnoticed. His hair is short - shorter than Jensen can ever remember seeing it other than in pictures. His face has more angles now. Not like he’s older, but harder. He doesn’t smile when he sees Tom waving to him from a pew near the back, just nods cordially and quietly hurries over.
Swallowing hard, Jensen forces the muscles in his neck to move again and face forward. And it’s weird - like he imagines coming off a ventilator would feel, or being born. That awful, pain-filled few moments of life where you have to teach yourself how to breathe all over again.
He looked different, and exactly the way Jensen had seen him in his head every day for the past three years.
October, 2007
“And then if I had to pick, I’d say Die Hard. Now, I know what you’re thinkin’, you’re thinkin’ that’s such an awful cliché, but you know what? It’s a cliché for a reason, Jen. John McClane makes me want to be a better man.” Jared pauses long enough to draw in a much-needed breath. “I think I’m drunk.”
Jensen laughs to himself, tossing Jared a cursory glance as they slowly make their way down the sidewalk. Sure enough, Jared has this squinty expression he gets when he’s under the influence. His cheeks and nose are pretty red, too, but that could have to do with the overly cool fall air that is biting at their skin and turning their breath into wispy trails of fog.
When Jared trips on the sidewalk, that pretty much confirms it.
“Yeah,” Jensen smirks, reaching over to steady the younger man. “I’d say so.”
Jared makes a small humming noise, tugging on the zipper of his jacket. “Had to be, man. It was purely self-defence. Network parties are...” He pauses, lower lip jutting out and sticking two resounding thumbs downward. “Laaaame.”
He watches him fondly, nodding in agreement. “True. But we probably should have at least stuck around for a ride home.” Jensen glances at his watch, and then out at the darkened streets. It’s late, and finding an available cab at this hour appears to be next to impossible.
“Right?” Jared agrees emphatically. “Why didn’t we, again?”
“Because you needed fresh air,” Jensen reminds him, easing closer until their shoulders knock together. He slides a warm hand up the middle of Jared’s tall back. “And then you started listing your top five Desert Island movies,” he chuckles, propelling them back down the sidewalk.
Jared nods. “Right!” he starts, and then squints hard at Jensen as if he’s trying to remember all the elements of the periodic table. “Where was I?”
“Die Hard.”
“Right.” Jared repeats, chewing on his lower lip. “I mean, Braveheart is a pretty good movie, but I just don’t know. There’s something about Mel Gibson that makes me want to rip off one of my own limbs so I’d have something to chuck at the TV. You know? But Lethal Weapon was not bad...”
Jensen is listening with one ear as his free hand slithers into his coat pocket, closing around a pack of cigarettes. He has one between his lips and is trying to remember what he did with his lighter when he realizes that Jared has stopped talking. When he looks up, the younger man is watching him with wide, surprised eyes. “What?” he asks, reaching out a hand to touch Jared’s arm.
But Jared is just staring at the cigarette dangling from his lip. “I thought you didn’t do that anymore.” He says, voice quiet and suddenly serious.
“I don’t,” Jensen starts, and then rolls his eyes at himself. “Once and awhile. Socially.”
Jared blinks, casting a dramatic look around at their surroundings. “There are other social-smokers here?” He lowers his voice tactfully.
Jensen snorts but removes the cigarette from his mouth. “If it bothers you, I won’t.” He says, feeling vaguely foolish. He knows how Jared feels about his smoking - which was why he’d all but quit once they’d started sleeping together. He didn’t know why he’d thought he could get away with it just because Jared was a little bit tipsy.
But Jared is still staring at him with this disappointed look in his eyes. “It does.” He says softly, stepping closer until Jensen can smell the alcohol warm on his breath. “Bothers me that you don’t take care of yourself like I want you to.” With one large hand, he reaches out to cup Jensen’s jaw, staring at him until he can feel it down to his toes.
Jensen sighs and smiles, catching Jared’s hand with his and slowly pulling away. Decisively, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the nearly full pack of cigarettes. Under Jared’s watchful eye, he makes a show of walking to a nearby garbage can and dropping them all inside.
The look on Jared’s face is stunning when he beams and says, “Thanks”, glazed eyes shining under the streetlamp.
Jensen reclaims the younger man’s hand in his own as they start back down the sidewalk. “So - Lethal Weapon?”
Just as Jared opens his mouth to start another rant, he trips again and looks down, scowling at his feet.
Jensen notices the untied shoelace and can’t help but grin. “C’mere.” He steps closer to the side of the building that flanks their left side and leans against it, bending one leg at the knee and propping his foot flat against the wall. “Put your shoe up here.” He says, patting his thigh.
A little hesitantly, Jared steps toward him and does as he’s told, knuckling tiredly at one eye. “You know, I feel bad.” He says, wavering slightly on one leg. “I’ve been talking and talking all night, just spillin’ my guts about stupid shit and I don’t even know stuff like this about you.”
Glancing up once from his task, Jensen feels the corner of his lip twitch. “Well, personally, I hate Braveheart. I think you’re right about Mel Gibson. Die Hard is a classic, but the Godfather is definitely in my top five - maybe even three.” He pauses, finishing with the shoelace and placing his hand carefully on Jared’s shoe and leaving it there for a moment, looking up and waiting until he has the other man's eyes. “And I've been trying to find the words to tell you that I'm in love with you for the last four blocks.”
Jared stares at him for a long moment while Jensen carefully slides his foot back to the ground. Then Jared is pressing him against the wall with his whole body, chilled lips against his and warm tongue plunging inside.
They pull apart panting and Jared screws his eyes shut, holding up two hands. “Wait a second, wait.” He slurs. “You’re drunk.” It's accusatory, finger pointed at Jensen’s chest.
Laughing, Jensen shakes his head, feeling elated and lighter than air. “No, I’m not. You are.” He corrects, reaching out a hand to brush stray strands of Jared’s hair from his eyes.
“Oh.” Jared says, looking confused. Then, concerned. “Why did you tell me this now? What if I don’t remember tomorrow?”
This time it’s Jensen who plants two hands on Jared’s face, leaning in to kiss him gently on the corner of his mouth. “Then I’ll tell you again in the morning.”
Jared’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, and they make their way down the street.
Present Day
Mike’s place is everything like his old one and then some - extravagant, way too large, and right on the water. Jensen can just imagine the kinds of parties that have been thrown here, if the ones he remembers from their past are anything to go by.
For a wake, the gathering is pretty pathetic. Jensen recognizes almost every person as someone from back in their CW days - in other words, none of them probably knew Jim all that well and were most likely there for the same reasons as Chad - free food and an open bar. As soon as they’re among familiar faces, Danneel disappears as if she’s been dying to at the first chance she got. He spots her every once and awhile, nursing a glass of white wine and mingling amongst the crowd, but she pretends not to see him.
Jensen is trying to choose between two different kinds of scotch when another familiar voice speaks from behind him. “Long time no see.”
He turns around to find Tom smiling at him good-naturedly. “Hey, man,” he greets, clasping the other man’s hand. “You help Rosie plan this thing?” he teases.
“’Course.” Tom smirks, jerking his head over his shoulder as if Mike is within earshot. “He would’ve just put down a cheese platter and a beer keg and called it a day.”
Jensen nods knowingly, and can’t help but think to himself that some things never change. He knows Tom is still married because he’s still got a ring on his finger and he hadn’t seen Jamie at the church and she doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the house, so he can’t help but wonder just how true that statement rings. “You’re probably right about that,” Jensen chuckles.
Tom clears his throat. “So how’s life?”
Jensen hesitates, sifting through a series of stock answers before giving up and shrugging. “It’s life.” He sighs.
Tom’s forehead creases and his eyebrows lift slightly in amusement. “Oh. We’re telling the truth?”
They share a brief smile, and Jensen glances down at his hands when they lapse into silence, shifting uncomfortably. He knew this wouldn’t have been easy as it was with Mike - Tom had always been closer to Jared, and when the line had been drawn three years ago, Tom had made it very clear which side of it he wanted to be on.
“You talked to him yet?”
Jensen glances up sharply, because he’s pretty sure he hadn’t said anything out loud. “...No.” He starts, but Tom’s expression is unreadable.
Tom nods seriously. “It’s probably for the best.” He says, tone firm but not unkind. “He’s doing a lot better. About damn time, too. It would be a mistake to start that all up again.” He gives Jensen a pointed look, but doesn’t say anything further.
Feeling rebuffed, Jensen presses his lips together and swipes an awkward hand down the back of his neck, more out of place than ever. He knew they shouldn’t have come here. He knew they should’ve just left the church and gotten on the first flight back to LA, but Mike had swarmed in and practically shoved them into a cab so that there hadn’t been any time to think, let alone come up with a viable excuse, and now here they were.
As if on cue, a few people to their right move out of the way and suddenly Jensen catches sight of Jared from across the room. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, their eyes meet and to Jensen’s surprise, Jared doesn’t look away. Feeling his breath catch in his chest again, Jensen just stares, unsure if the pounding in his heart is telling him to move closer or run in the opposite direction.
“Hey,” Tom says, and his voice is louder now, more serious. He moves his head a little so that he’s directly in Jensen’s line of sight. “I’m serious, Jensen. Leave it alone.”
When he looks again, Jared has glanced away and is talking to someone else. Irritably, Jensen gives a stiff, bitter smile. “Whatever you say, Tommy.” He says sarcastically, turning back to his task of pouring a drink - and on second thought, he better fuckin’ make it a double.
Suddenly two arms latch around his chest, squeezing what little air he had out of his lungs. “Holy shit! It’s Ackles in the flesh!”
That voice can only belong to one person. “Good to see you too, Misha.” Jensen says, patting the arms wrapped around him until they loosen and he can turn around enough to see the sparkling blue eyes and wide, white-toothed grin.
“Wow, man! I thought you were dead.”
Tight-lipped smile. “Nope, not dead.”
Misha bobs his head, obviously pleased but then winces, glancing at their surroundings. “Sorry, that was in bad taste.” But soon he’s grinning again and slapping him and Tom on the shoulder, glancing between them eagerly. “So? What are we talking about?”
Jensen and Tom trade an uneasy look and Jensen’s eyes must wander across the room again, because Misha easily picks up on the tension. “Ah. Sensitive subject,” he says quietly, gritting his teeth in a mock-sympathetic grimace. Say what you will about the guy, but he’s not as stupid as he looks. “Say no more.”
“That’s a great idea.” Jensen mutters, grabbing his drink and taking a healthy swallow. When, by some miracle, Misha and Tom start talking about something else, Jensen tries like hell to pay attention, but all he can think about is how Jared had looked at him.
His eyes had been hollow, no familiar spark of life, no exhilarant glow that always seemed to radiate off of him, everything that made him the kind of person you wanted to be around, hoping that somehow a little bit of that feeling would rub off. Instead there was just a haunted look, and something that made Jensen’s stomach turn. He felt sick and guilty and all the other things he’d been when they’d last seen each other. He has to talk to him, make sure he’s all right at the very least, and then maybe the words he’s been trying to find for the last three years will come to him.
But when he looks again and finds Jared still across the room, he notices the petite brunette that currently holds his attention for the first time. The brunette that has her arm around Jared’s waist and is smiling affectionately up at him. Jensen’s stomach drops when he recognizes her.
“Is that Genevieve?” He blurts out, effectively interrupting the conversation that had been going on around him
Tom follows his gaze. “Uh, yeah.” He says obviously. “You didn’t think she’d be here too?”
Jensen doesn’t know what he thought, but everything he’d just been feeling is gone and replaced with something else. Draining his glass, he turns to walk away and hopes that the crowd of people will swallow him up. That or a hole in the floor. Anything.
It must be close to an hour or so later, because Jensen finally has a decent buzz going, and a lot of the guests have cleared out. It’s been a long and tiring game of playing keep-away from Tom, Chad, hell, basically anyone he knew on a first name basis, and Jensen needs a cigarette if he’s going to make it out of this thing alive.
He manages to slip out one of the sliding glass doors unnoticed and onto the porch. Protecting the flame of his lighter from the cool ocean breeze, he draws in several slow, deep breaths of smoke while staring out at the swirling depths of the grey sea in the distance.
“Figures you would have started that up again.” A voice says from behind him.
Jensen nearly jumps out of his skin, feeling his pulse quicken. When he turns around there is Jared, sitting on one of the porch steps with his back against a pillar. He gestures at Jensen’s Marlboro with a lit cigarette of his own, expression unreadable.
Jensen tries to remember how to speak. “Yeah,” he replies sheepishly, and then can’t help but stare as Jared takes a drag with what looks like practiced ease. It’s an image that just seems so wrong, Jensen can’t wrap his head around it, even though Jared makes the action seem flawless and graceful. “Apparently I’m not the only one.”
Following his gaze, Jared’s lip twitches. “Only socially.” He says, looking up. His eyes flash sagely.
Jensen huffs a laugh. He wants to go closer, sit with him on the step maybe, but he keeps his distance and rocks uncomfortably on his heels.
“So,” Jared sighs, blowing smoke from his nose. “You feel like you’re the only here actually mourning Jim, too?”
Jensen licks his lips, wishing his mouth wasn’t so terribly dry. “Yeah,” He says and shakes his head. “I still can’t really believe he’s gone. I mean, we just watched them bury him, and I know I haven’t seen the guy in years, but...it’s like I can’t really picture myself existing in a world where Jim doesn’t.” He comes back to himself and clears his throat, wondering why he said any of that.
Jared just nods quietly. “I know. I feel bad for not calling him. Haven’t seen him since the show ended.” He stops, eyes shifting. “I hear you’re still out in LA?” he asks casually, like he’s trying to make polite conversation.
“Yes.” Jensen puts his free hand in his pocket, fidgeting with loose change. “What about you? You still out here, enjoying this beautiful Canadian vista with Tom and Mike?” He jokes lamely, gesturing up at the cloudy sky.
Jared doesn’t so much as smile. “No, I’ve mostly been moving around a lot,” he admits, finishing the last of his cigarette and tossing the butt onto the wet grass. “I’m living back in Texas these days. Got a small place there I always go back to.”
That surprises him, because he’d suspected Jared hadn’t been acting, but the younger man had always hated their nomadic lifestyle. He’d always said that when they were done with the show, done with flying in and out of Vancouver every other weekend that he was going to buy a house somewhere and settle down. “Yeah?” Jensen asks, eyebrows raised. “What have you been up to?”
Jared shrugs like it’s unimportant. “Just. Travelling around. Done a couple plays here and there. Nothing big.” He brushes his hands across his jeans and looks like he wants to change the subject.
Jensen opens his mouth to ask another question, because there’s so much he doesn’t know, so much he needs to have the answers to, but Jared beats him to the punch.
“I saw Danneel inside.” He says suddenly, and it takes Jensen by surprise, because that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “How is she?” There’s something condescending in his voice, something very un-Jared-like and it’s a little startling.
“She’s fine,” Jensen replies, because this can only go in one direction and he doesn’t know what Jared expects him to say.
Slowly, Jared gives a thoughtful nod and looks out over the vacant beach, eyes distant. Seconds tick by in which nothing is said, and then Jared rises from the step, putting what looks like a rumpled pack of cigarettes back into his jacket pocket. “Well,” he says, nodding curtly in Jensen’s direction. “I’ll see you in there.”
“Yeah,” Jensen says to his retreating back, and after the door clicks softly shut, he blows out a deep breath and turns back to the ocean. Hands shaking, he wrings them together to bring some warmth to his fingertips and wonders how much longer he’ll have to stand out in the cold before he’ll be ready to go back in.
It’s dark outside when Jensen runs into Mike a little while later. The house is a lot quieter, music playing softly from the corner and the buzz of a few conversations filtering through the main level are what’s left of the earlier din.
“So I’ve decided that you’re staying over,” Mike announces with a grin, and then quickly, “and Danny, of course.”
Jensen feels his eyebrows knit together. “That’s real generous of you, Mike, but we’re gonna get going.” He says, and it’s a good thing, too, because Danneel appears beside him for the first time in a few hours, listening intently.
Mike’s face falls. “And what, sleep at the airport? Catch a red-eye?” he asks rhetorically, and shakes his head. “Nope. Not happening. I’ve got all this space and the party is still going. Misha and Gen are gonna crash here, Tommy, of course...come on. It’s going to be just like the old days.”
Beside him, Jensen feels Danneel stiffen but she says nothing. “We were just going to get a hotel, man...”
“Six bedrooms, Jensen.” Mike says seriously. “Six. You’re staying.” His voice leaves very little room for argument.
Kneading the back of his neck, Jensen casts a sideways glance at Danneel, but her expression is surprisingly resigned as she avoids his gaze. “Fine,” she says, sighing. “I’m starving, anyway. Just tell me you’ve got more to eat than cocktail wieners and I’m in.” Then, smiling slightly. “Besides, Gen and I have a lot to catch up on.”
Jensen feels a knot form in his stomach, because nothing good can come from that.
But Mike is clapping his hands together, clearly pleased as punch. “Awesome! We’ll just get your bags up to the room and you’ll be good to go.” He hefts one over his shoulder. “Give me a hand, will you Jenny?”
Soon Jensen is obediently following his friend up a flight of stairs, and okay, this place is even bigger than he thought. Mike is rambling about how excited he is to use guest towels for the first time as he leads them to a modern-decorated bedroom with a view overlooking the beach below. Jensen sets his bags down on the bed nearest to the door, raising an eyebrow. There are two doubles.
Mike notices. “I know. But Chad called the room with the king, and...”
Jensen’s head snaps up so fast his neck hurts. “Chad Michael Murray is staying over?” He demands in disbelief.
Holding up two steadying hands, Mike uses a tone like he’s talking down a jumper. “I didn’t tell you downstairs because I knew you’d bolt.” He says, sighing. “I know you’ve never seen eye-to-eye with the guy, but...”
“That’s because Chad doesn’t have eyes. He’s got a laser beam in his dick like all the other aliens from planet Shit For Brains.” Jensen explains seriously.
Mike’s shoulders droop and he sounds genuinely frustrated. “Look, come on, man. I’m really trying here to get the whole gang back together, even if it’s just for the weekend. Don’t ruin this for me.” He begs, fixing Jensen with wide, pleading eyes. “Do it for Jim’s memory.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. That’s dirty pool - even though he's pretty sure Jim Beaver would probably high-five him from heaven if he gave Chad the beating that he deserves. “World’s gone crazy.” He mutters under his breath, but throws his hands up in defeat. “All right. Fine.”
Just like that, Mike is grinning again and moves to the opposite bed, putting both hands down on the mattress. “Awesome. Now, help me push these beds together.”
“Why?”
“Okay...” Mike says slowly, eyebrows raised. “How about farther apart?”
There’s a knock at the door and they look up to find Tom standing in the hall, a confused look on his face. “Hey,” He says taking in the room and the two men standing in it. His eyes fall to the bags on the bed. “Mike, can I talk to you for a second?” He says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. His tone of voice reminds Jensen of Danneel’s, and he knows his friend is about to be in the proverbial doghouse.
Mike looks nervous. “Sure,” he says, and steps out with Tom on his heels.
Jensen sits on the edge of one of the beds, smirking slightly because if they think he can’t hear them, they’re wrong.
“What are you doing?” Tom’s voice.
“Getting the room ready.” Mike.
“You know what I’m talking about. This is a stupid idea, even for you.”
“Would you chill? Nothing is going on.”
“Right. Well, we told Jared yesterday that he was staying here, and he’s upset. So now what, genius?”
Frowning, Jensen pushes up from the bed and goes to the door, poking his head out into the hallway. “Look, guys,” he starts, and both Tom and Mike break the intense stare they’d been holding to spare a glance at him. “I really don’t want to put anybody out. Jared should stay here. Danneel and I...”
“Are staying.” Mike says firmly, and looks as though his patience has run its course. “Everyone is staying, okay? It’s been three fucking years. I’m tired of this shit. I miss my friends, I’ve finally got you all here at once and I know it probably won’t happen again until someone else bites it, so we’re all going to put the past behind us and spend a fucking weekend together if it kills us.” His face is red and he’s breathing hard by the time the rant is over.
Tom presses a soothing hand to the other man’s back. As Jensen tries to think of something to say, Jared appears from around the corner, expression grim. “I’ll stay.” He says quietly, glancing at the three of them, eyes shying away when they meet Jensen’s. “Besides. My car’s got a flat.”
Hand dropping from Mike’s back, Tom shoots him a disbelieving look. “You didn’t.”
“Okay, so,” Mike rubs his hands together, pushing past them to jog down the stairs. “Who’s hungry?”
Jensen hopes he fucking trips.
Part Three