some helpless fool, i was lost
So I had this idea bouncing around my mind ever since I signed up for the spnaubigbang. I dismissed it as too artsy at the time, but last night I couldn't sleep, so here it is anyway. This is probably the wackiest ever fic I've written. And Non AU, too. I'm really into the whole turning a new page thing these days.
Additional Notes: Okay, reposted with edits. Huge thank you's and hugging and smishing in general to bigj52, who was very very kind about pointing out that my spelling sucks. Thanks so much, honey. You're a superstar.
Special mention to ireena, who is this total sweetheart who convinced me to take this fic seriously. She says the loveliest things, no joke.
Title: The Adventures of Kangaroo Jack and his Trusty Sidekick Lemonhead
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Summary: Long, long summer when the hair sticks to the back of his neck and the cotton of his T-shirt feels like it's been painted on, and all Jared is doing is waiting for Jensen. The whole world is waiting for Jensen to get a fucking clue, but maybe he already has. Maybe that's what all this sleeping around is about. Non AU.
Beta Credits: To bigj52, who rocks like whoa and don't you forget it.
Disclaimer: Not true. Just me running my mouth even more than usual.
Notes: This has hints of meta strewn all over the place, and is almost canon, except, you know, not.
Please, please feel free to leave behind concrit and feedback, because this fic... well, i need all the help I can get with this monster.
The Adventures of Kangaroo Jack and his Trusty Sidekick Lemonhead
by weekend_exile
Long, long summer when the hair sticks to the back of his neck and the cotton of his T-shirt feels like it's been painted on, and all Jared is doing is waiting for Jensen. The whole world is waiting for Jensen to get a fucking clue, but maybe he already has. Maybe that's what all this sleeping around is about.
So. Jared is a naive fuck and Jensen is kind of a douche. That's really nothing new.
What's new is this knot in Jared’s stomach as he makes flapjacks at eight in the night because his internal clock doesn't mesh with the one hanging above the row of cabinets (the one shaped like a crying onion, remember that, Jen?) and he's always been the kind of guy to listen to what his body tells him. Still jetlagged from waking up on the plane in a different country, and there was that now-familiar scrabbling around in his mind, where was he, was he coming or going, where was Jen.
But yeah. Jared's kinda operating on autopilot at this very second, practiced twist of his wrist and thinking blankly about the first time, when Jensen snorted quietly at his Sunday Morning Flapjacks -before it became a ritual, before he moved in and isn't it weird how all of that feels like it happened to someone else, like there actually wasn't a time in Jared Padalecki's life when he and Jen weren't the two parts of the package -buy one get one free kinda- and said, you cook. Figures.
Jensen couldn't cook for shit, always falling back on takeout and the mess of empty pizza boxes strewn across his table whenever Jared came over to watch a game. He always appreciated Jared's ability, though, his eyes wide and green and hopeful like a kid's on mornings when he smelled bacon.
All kinds of thoughts floating harmlessly around like fluffy clouds on a sunny day. The flapjacks are about to burn. No, they're not. Jared wouldn't let them.
The next thought in his head is so clear and shocking, it's like taking on a train going at full tilt, steam pouring like a medieval beast: wish he were here.
He lets the flapjacks burn.
*
Nothing too dramatic, though. They've got enough of that on the show.
Just the small stuff, nothing explicit on their own. The sum of all the parts, you could say, co-worker and friend and brother and the guy who knew what you looked like asleep after a fourteen-hour day, and some other stuff. Bits and pieces like someone overturned the box of a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces strewn across the floor all bright and colorful, and Jared's never been big on grand gestures anyway.
Nothing too overt, then. Just the twist in Jensen's neck as he turns to raise his eyebrows questioningly at Jared when Misha asks whether he's busy that night. The rapid-fire exchange of looks when they're planning a prank, and it's like all Jared has to do is think and Jensen's nodding along and saying yeah, that'd be sweet. Stuff like that, and it's the most basic thing in the world.
And then there was that time Jensen came home drunk, hours after Jared had called it a night and fallen onto his bed to toss around in his sheets. Jensen had sat on the edge of his bed for the longest time and Jared hadn't been able to breathe. Just sitting there backlit something perfect by the moon in Vancouver and Jared's pulse had raced, thinking in bursts about big movie confessions and old stories he'd heard about getting drunk on the light of the moon and the condoms in his bedside drawer.
This isn't that kind of story, though. Never has been.
Jensen had stood up to leave after some time -minutes, hours, who the fuck knows, it's that damned internal clock going out of whack again- and Jared hadn't been able to help himself. "Off day tomorrow."
Jensen had smiled like all the troubles in the world had befallen him but he was trying not to be bothered by it. It shook something loose in Jared, some chunk of himself dislodged from place and thrust into a whole new scenario, new backstory. Jensen always seems to have this effect on him.
"Yeah," Jen'd said, in a voice as rough and deep as the crunch of gravel under boots. "You making me breakfast?"
Jared nodded even though it was dark and tried not to make it seem like a bigger promise, none of the forevers and always' that danced on the tip of his tongue like lines on the script he might as well have written on his own. Those lines are the ones he used to fuck up the worst on the show, worried about putting too much on display. He knows better now. He's a smart boy, after all.
He says, "Maybe. If you're real good." and bites back everything else, tries not to go over and put his hands all over Jensen, inhale the clean sweat and cologne and lingering traces of makeup . Because it's not that kind of story, either.
Jensen had let out a small huff of laughter. "Okay. Better keep my fingers crossed, then."
"Guess so." He cleared his throat and Jensen sort of shook himself, and the weird thrum of electricity in the room left like it had never been. "Night, Jen."
Jensen was half out the door by then. "Good night, Jay."
Jared settled back in his bed, and let go of any hopes of a good night's rest.
*
So. Here's how things are now:
Jared's in LA, trying his damndest to get his bearings in relation to something that's not Jensen fucking Ackles.
Jensen's... wherever the fuck he is, touring and doing his hippie thing cross country, on the road with his boy Steve. He sends postcards with bad drawings of stick figures and little to no words. Jay, he writes on the top, followed by a space of big fat nothing, and then his name like it means something. Half the time Jared's driven up the walls in frustration because they really should pass a law about actually fucking writing on all postcards that make the trip over state lines. Is it too much to ask, something banal and fucking mundane like saw the second biggest ball of twine in the world today?
Apparently so.
So Jared tries to control his too-long limbs so as not to knock anything over in his too-small apartment and calls his momma, who immediately invites him to come over. He looks at his dogs questioningly and they laugh with their panting mouths and that seems like affirmation enough if he's ever getting any, so he tells her yes.
He leaves a voicemail on Jensen's phone before picking up the bags he never bothered to unpack and getting the hell outta there.
*
Jensen returns his call three days later and Jared genuinely debates not picking up. He's comfortable where he is, spread out on a poolside deck chair with his sunglasses on and thinking about absolutely nothing, just kinda counting clouds as they pass by. Lazy and caught up in the moment in the most basic of ways. Killing time poolside, awesome times, goddamn right.
His phone's way over on the plastic table a few feet away. Muttering curses, he gets to his feet and reaches for the damn thing, answers without thinking too much about Jensen's name on the display and how it's been fucking days.
"Hey, asshole." He says without preamble. "Where the hell are you?"
"Great to hear from you, too, Padalecki." Jensen sounds amused in an offhand, completely exhausted kinda way. "Cleveland, man."
"Fuck Cleveland to fucking hell," Jared exclaims. "Dude, you sound like you wrestled with alligators all day or something."
Jensen laughs, no gravity behind it, none of that joy that makes his eyes light up like sparklers on the Fourth of July. "Or something," he agrees. "Ran into a fangirl at a gig the other night."
"Yeah?" Jared asks apprehensively. Jensen's not so great with the added benefits of playing a main character in one of the shows that attracted fans in masses; it's just the way it is. They go into conventions and suchlike well-fortified and with battle plans set in place. To point, Jen lets Jared be his human shield. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement and Jared likes the thought of that, the feel of it: if Jensen ever went to one of those things without Jared, he would have to housebreak his guest from scratch.
"Yeah." There's a rustle like Jensen's leaning back on his bed. Sleeping in, Jared guesses, and not doing a good job of it. Knowing Steve, they probably called it a night a couple of hours ago, when they couldn't call the daybreak Juliet and keep drinking anymore. "She seemed like she was there for the actual music, like I was an added bonus. It was cool."
Jared hums, settling back on his chair. The sky was split open like a gash, bleeding azure. He pressed down on his dick with the flat of his hand idly.
Jensen continues, quieter. "She asked where you were."
Jared struggles on a breath suddenly, tries not to choke. He forces nonchalance into his voice, miles and miles of wide open sky and as happy as a man could get, not missing anyone one bit, no sir. "And?"
He snuffles a laugh. "Told her you were probably living it up in San Antonio. Barbecues and poolside lazing around and whatnot."
"You know me too well, Ackles." Jared flexes his toes. He thinks about distance on a cosmic scale, Texas and Cleveland just a hairsbreadth away, he'd make it in no time at all. He could speed if he had to. He probably wouldn't have to.
He doesn't ask whether he should come over. Jensen doesn't give any indication it's anywhere near his mind, but Jared knows better.
"See you around, then." He says instead.
There's another faint rustle. Maybe Jensen nodded, forgetting he's on the phone. Jared's seen him do it countless times. "Yeah. Save some of that barbecue for me."
They hang up together like it's no big deal. And it isn't, mostly. There's just the problem of this tension between them that puts in guest appearances in their interactions that Jared tries his damndest to ignore, but gets under his skin nonetheless. It makes him itch. He absolutely fucking hates it, that sneaking little suspicion that he's going to spend the best years of his life waiting for his best friend to get with the program, get the true love memo.
*
Somewhere down the line, Jared learns to handle it better. You'd call it growing up, but that shit's fucking depressing, so let's hold back the labels for now, yeah?
In San Diego, Jared wakes up enough to mutter a curse and roll over when someone pokes at his side, and the mattress dips as Jensen climbs in.
It's quiet for the longest time, and Jared's just at that cusp between waking and dreaming again, willing to ignore the disturbance and fall right back into sleep, when Jensen says, "You awake, man?"
Jared sighs and shakes his head. The moonlight's strong enough for Jen to pick out the movement. He laughs a little.
Jared snuggled deeper into the covers, not wanting Jensen to rob him of the promise of sleep; he'd stayed up late waiting and wondering. Now that Jen's here, it seems a waste of everyone's time and in bad form.
Jensen shifts infinitesimally closer, so that his shoulder's touching Jared's back. It sends a single spark down his spine and he kind of hates himself for that.
"Darren's gay, you know that?" He asks from the humid air between them.
Jared goes still, mind flashing back to the casual flirting back and forth on set, memories like gunfire, bullets streaking right across Jared's chest.
"Huh," he says.
Jensen hums. His shoulder presses more firmly against Jared's spine, and heat floods through for a moment, erasing all else.
Jensen's hand comes up, fingertips splayed out in a five-point star on Jared's skin. Unwavering points of heat, and Jared holds on to them in his mind as a constant in this fever dream he calls a life.
*
Jensen hooking up with Danny isn't the worst thing that happened to Jared, though it definitely makes the top five. It's the kind of random and out of the blue it's enough to floor a guy, and...
Wait. I'm telling it all wrong. Start at the beginning, they say, and keep off the tangents. Stick to the fucking facts.
The beginning, then, or what passes for it in this particular subplot. Stretch your memory like a rubber band across the state, the distance from Texas to Cleveland, from home to the place where the one you love stares at a sky that's exponentially the same, and come to this place we'll label as the beginning just for the sake of storytelling.
Two seasons into the show, and Jared -this version of Jared we're talking about, the younger one- has this sense of being on the absolute top of his game. Songs come on the jukebox he's never heard before but he can guess the words to it, spot-on every single time and making Jensen shake his head and say, damn, son. Dart games against Jeff and swapping high-school pothead stories with Sera, and Jared's life is coming together something perfect.
Ratings were up and Kripke and Singer were narrating long winding stories at a corner of the bar like a couple of drunken frat boys. Jared almost sees what they're getting at -this freaky new empathy thing he's got going on, along with the rest of it- because he was never like this back on Gilmore Girls. So okay, maybe it's physically impossible to feel any level of fulfilment with anything on the WB, but that's just gravy.
Point is, the sense of being left behind that attacks him this far into a commitment isn't there no matter how hard he looks for it. It seems like nine different kinds of miracle.
It's this feeling of freefalling that he's trying to explain to Jensen, God knows how many shots in. The glasses bear witness like shards of glass scattered across the table, and Jared's talking with his hands and arms flailing, Jensen nodding along and grinning into his beer at the right places. Jared is kinda stupidly in love with him at that point, eyes plastered on Jensen like a favorite threadbare T shirt.
He tells Jensen, "See, that's the weird chemistry of it, it's what keeps 'em coming back for more, you get what I'm saying?"
Jensen flicks a sideways glance at him, lazy and considering. "I get you're way too drunk to be talking about chemistry in any context, man."
A laugh punches out of Jared, full-throated and making his ribs ache. He laughs and laughs, and Jensen looks amused and pleased, his eyes rolling but it's mostly for show.
Cramming his fist in his mouth to hold in the tail end of his laughter and kind of clutching at his sides, Jared looks around the bar. It's mostly deserted, a couple of the guys from the crew still hanging around. Jensen and Jared broke away from the main group ealier on in the night when Jen began getting antsy in the lame drinking competitions but Jared wasn't ready to call it a night. It, like nearly all their other agreements, worked fine for both.
And then Jared got the idea -fucking brilliant, it seemed at the time- to kiss Jensen.
Take a step away from the story for a second. Away from this one, at least.
A quick look at the history of Jared Padalecki, the arc of time and plot interwoven like a Persian carpet over his head. Bear with me.
Thinking's never been his strong suit, since he never got the feel for it, never knew where to stop, where to draw the line. He's a self-proclaimed man of action and long detailed plans for seduction and confessions spurred by alcohol and the scraping together of courage really isn't his thing at all.
But then this was Jensen, not some blushing nerve-wracking high school crush. Jen's been his best friend ever since he entered this strange exhilarating life, and Jared's not stupid. He knows that it's not something to be taken lightly, the way they clicked so effortlessly.
He knew all of this. And here's the important part: he didn't care.
Smart boy like him, he knew the stakes and all he wanted was something more, something he knew there was a definite possibility of.
So that blows the drunken mistake theory out of the water. Jared's always known he's wanted this, has always been ready to risk everything and dive in headfirst.
I never said he wasn't naive, remember. Just that he wasn't stupid.
So yeah. Middle of the night, Vancouver, middle of his whole fucking life, and Jared leaned over the table and, God help him, kissed Jensen.
It obviously didn't register at first with Jensen, his lips soft and unmoving under Jared's. They both breathed eachother in for a second, and Jared had this curious feeling like everything below his skin was re-arranging itself, sliding into place to achieve a whole new meaning. He drew back, surprised. "Huh."
Jensen was watching him, eyes lidded. He was noticably not freaking out, his eyes trained on Jared's lips, obviously having seen this coming.
Jared stares back, poleaxed.
Slowly, deliberately, Jensen reaches up to touch his lips, full and red, watching Jared watching him. Jared groans a little.
When their lips touch again, it's with intent written across it as plain as day and then some, teeth clashing at point of impact and Jensen turning his neck to get the right angle and it's smooth sailing from there.
Jensen climbs onto his lap, twisting his hands in his hair. Grinds down slow and practised like he's been waiting for this his whole life, and Jared can never get enough air in his lungs to keep his vision from spinning. Endless green of Jensen's eyes, with that faintly desperate, pained look, and there isn't any way to fucking breathe.
He comes embarrassingly fast, achingly hard and writhing under Jensen one second and warm and sticky and wet in his boxers the next. Jensen follows a split second later, muffling Jared's name into his neck, biting down.
Later, they go into the bathroom together, not meeting eachother's eyes. Loose untethered feeling in Jared's chest like he's floating miles above, reaching out to touch the moon and showing Jensen, See, awesome, right, man?
Jensen finishes cleaning up first, leaving the bathroom with a slap to Jared's ass as Jared tries to get a stain from his shirt on the sink. What he really wants is to go home and have a long shower and climb into bed, but when he raises his voice to ask Jensen Jen's already gone.
So he clamps down on the anxiety and follows him out. Scans the room, and can't really say he's surprised to see Jen chatting up a pretty redhead sitting at the bar.
He stares a while, not really thinking anything specific and trying to numb himself against the blow before it comes. He admires the green of Jen's eyes in the dim light, the angle of her throat as she looked up at him, smiling.
He doesn't know how long, exactly, he stands there, but he makes sure to catch Jen's eye before he leaves. Makes sure to point at the door and then at himself, eyebrows arched.
And then Jensen nods, shrugging and fucking smiling, and Jared distinctly hears half the illusions he built for himself shatter away without much ceremony. He makes himself nod back, and leaves the bar alone.
*
So. Now you know.
That was just the first time, see. It happened a couple times more, in the dim lighting of unfamiliar bars and mens rooms. Patchwork of glimpses at how his life would be from then on, and Jared was terrified most of the time, expectant and edgy and just totally out of his depth in some ways.
And then there's that slow sluggish flow of blood that never lets up, coming from the wound Jensen left in him that first time. He covers it up, plays it casual, but there are times when it's past midnight and he's drunker than he should be, and Jen catches his eye across the room like he knows Jared's about to collapse from bloodloss, and hauls him out.
Already told you it wasn't just this one big scene I was leading up to. Shattered glass catching the light on the floor, slanted and not quite right, and if you look at them at a specific angle, you maybe could see where this is going.
Stick with me. It's almost over now.
*
Jensen stayed with Danneel for over eight months.
It's the longest relationship Jared's seen him in, and he's impressed in a vague secondhand kind of way. He, in turn, drinks a lot and fucks around more, until he realizes that that shit really was beyond pathetic and made a valiant attempt to cut it out. The success of this desicion is debatable, but so's everything else, so shut your face before my fist does it for you.
Where was I? Right, Jen and Danny. Cute couple. Just imagine the kids, all red-haired and freckled. Jared would be best man at the wedding, and do right by Jensen even though the mere possibility makes him want to retch.
No use thinking of what-if's, though. Any boy from where Jared and Jensen're from could tell you as much. Time to go right back to where we started from, the here and now.
Jared spends most of his time poolside. Sometimes he reads paperback novels he dug out of a box in the garage, origin unknown. Mostly he stares at the clear blue sky and tries not to feel like he's drowning in watercolors.
He washes off the chlorine and sunlight on his skin in the shower, jerks off with his mind blank.
He goes out drinking with a pair of his old high school buddies one night and comes home late, mind leaping and swerving and sticking in places like an out-of control car. He thinks about Jensen in fits and bursts, in abstract and objective terms and comes back to find that hours had passed, or no time at all. He's maybe drunk more than he should, but that's what hiatus is for.
He stumbles out of the truck and waves his friends off. When he turns to the house, he sees a figure sitting on the porch steps and with a give of his stomach recognizes Jensen immediately.
Jensen unhooks his earphones when Jared draws near, and smiles up at him unguardedly. His eyes are tired, hair sticking out every which way, and he makes Jared's breath catch. But that's hardly anything new. "Hey." he says.
Jared takes in the two duffel bags, Jensen's ratty jeans and worn T-shirt. Then he grins, feeling like he ran off a skyscraper with his arms spread wide, laughing all the way. "Hey," he says back, kinda dopey, and Jen laughs and that's that.
*
Let's try our hands at time travel again.
Not too far away from the last place we left twenty-four year old Jared. Same bar, same girl, same song on the jukebox. Same best friend sitting in the booth across from him, but everything's different, and isn't that what this story is about anyway?
Shut up and listen. Listen.
Jensen and Danneel break up just before shooting for the new season begins. It's painless and no one's quite sure who dumped who, but there's a period of time when Jensen avoids his best friend like the plague.
So Jared does the obvious thing and gets him drunk.
They're back to normal -pre-Danny normal, which is as normal as they're ever gonna get, these boys- within the hour, drinking Coronas with lime and watching late-night television. Jensen snickers at regular intervals, and Jared persists that they need whatever equipment they're advertising.
Jared's really getting into a rant about whatever infomercial that's on at the time- we so totally need one of those, man, we can make our own dog food in it. And look, pizza! Never mind if that defies all the laws of Physics, shut up. We're so calling that number- when Jensen begins laughing, full-bellied and joyful.
Jared joins him after a beat, laughing helplessly and catching Jensen's eye and laughing harder.
That's not to say it was off to the fucking sunset after that, though. Sorry if you got your hopes up.
Jensen still slept around, didn't even bother to slap on the perfunctory label of 'dating' to what he was doing with this seemingly endless flow of girls and the occasional guy. As far as Jared knew, most of them lasted as long as it took to get through dinner at a fancy restaurant -because Jen's a gentleman, after all and everything- and a blowjob in the bathroom. Few people made it to the second date, even fewer got to meet Jared.
And he was mostly fine with that. He came up with a plan of his own, which, if not foolproof, kept him from going prematurely grey.
So he made his intentions crystal clear, let it shine through bright like the single star in a cloudless sky in his eyes. He made flapjacks for breakfast and fought with Jensen over whether to fix the PSP or upgrade to an Xbox. He took Jensen to the park with the dogs. But he stayed out of the way when Jensen got this speculative look in his eyes at a table in the corner of a bar.
And for almost two years, it worked.
*
Here's one thing that stands out, something Jared will always remember:
In Chicago, they were booked in the same hotel the convention would be, as usual. Jared and Jensen had rooms just across the hall from each other. They spent their mornings playing card games or watching the consistently crappy movies on TV. Jared would explain, in great detail, why crappy daytime sitcoms were actually helping humanity grow wiser because they were so dumb everyone drew the line there. Jensen nods and makes noises at all the right places, amusement tinting his eyes a brighter shade of green than usual.
Jared gets cabin fever eventually, and wanders off in search of food. He shares peanuts with a girl near the open bar who claims she watches the show regularly, but not regularly enough for him to be worried. They discuss plot holes, and she buys him candy for the road with a huge grin and a wink.
Movement across the room catches his eye, and Jared watches Darren make his way across the dining area, hands in pockets, looking around every so often. He doesn't think too much of it, and the girl sitting next to him is very pretty, hanging on to his every word like he might spout Homer any second now, and that's pretty cool.
It's nearly half an hour later when the stunt guy reappears, stumbling a little, looking dazed like he spent all that time getting beaten up by a baseball bat. He flounders his way up to the bar, his elbows landing like out-of-control planes on the mahogany countertop. Jared recognizes the signs with no effort at all: Jensen tends to have that effect on people. Kinda overwhelming, hard to find solid ground until you get to know him properly and find out that it's all just an act.
He excuses himself and the not-quite-fangirl smiles, tells him she hopes to see him again. Jared nods, effortlessly charming, and heads back towards their rooms. He stops for a brief "You alright?" towards Darren, who flinches so violently Jared wishes he hadn't bothered. He mumbles halting excuses, going a deep dark red, until Jared orders him a drink and simply leaves.
He knocks perfunctorily on Jensen's door before he slips in. He locks the door behind him, feeling slightly paranoid.
Jensen doesn't acknowledge his entrance, lying with his half his face mashed against the pillow on the bed. Jared watches the muscles on his shoulders tense briefly before going over and climbing under the covers.
It's warm out, too warm to be sharing a bed in the middle of the day, and Jen makes a snuffling noise of protest. Jared ignores it like he's meant to, and turns to face Jensen.
"Saw Darren out there." he says, and Jensen hums. "You're gonna get him in trouble, you know." he adds, quieter.
Jensen lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. "He'll handle it."
Jared bites his lip and nods. "Whatever you say, Jen."
Jensen shifts his head so he's looking directly at Jared. He smiles, soft blinding smile that makes Jared's heart stumble on its tracks.
"Go to sleep, Jay." he says, touching his fingers to Jared's face, the minimal contact flooding heat through Jared.
Jared stares at him for a long moment, just 'cause. Then he closes his eyes.
He dreams of the wide open sky, the color blue of joyful memory. Soaring, with Jensen's unquestioned presence beside him.
*
Zipping through time again. Yeah yeah, I know it's getting old. There's a light at the end of this tunnel, though. Trust me. Trust in them, these boys who don't really know what they're doing any more than you or me.
So yeah. The here and now, and here's how it plays out, here's the lowdown:
Jensen moves into Jared's childhood home in San Antonio. His parents welcome him like a lost fourth child, his Momma cooing over how pretty Jen always was and feeding them both ludicrous amounts of very good food. It's been almost two years since Jensen came here last, and Jared's house inhales him into the walls.
Jensen gets the guest bedroom down the hall from Jared's, and comes over frequently to laugh at Jared's baseball sheets. Jared's bed is freaking enormous and he still fits in without any limbs dangling off, so he's not complaining.
Don't get me wrong, though. It's all very vanilla, real platonic, yessir no ma'am no funny business here stuff. They wrestle and touch excessively and play bizarre slapping games Jensen's big brother Jason invented way back when, but they never go beyond that.
They sleep till late and watch every game of every sport on TV. They venture out to buy Cheetos and apples and cereals, and that's about it.
At the end of a week, Jared's heating up some chilli when Jensen comes up from behind and puts his arms around his waist.
Jared freezes for a split second before his muscles relax into the warm heat of Jensen's bare chest.
Jen's lips find the pulse point on his neck, and sucks lightly. Jared's entire body shudders. "I've been kind of an idiot, haven't I?"
Jared doesn't process the question at first, caught up in the feel of Jensen's mouth. Then he cocks his head and turns around, careful not to shake Jen's hands off.
"What d'you mean?"
Jensen shrugs, his eyes warm in the honey-colored morning light. "I mean, I've been so obsessed about ignoring this thing between us." He waves a hand vaguely in the air indicating both of them. "Like I said, stupid."
Jared blinks, too-fast in rhythm with his heartbeat, and it makes his eyes itch. "What, uh," he clears his throat. "What changed your mind?"
Jensen leans up to press his lips against Jared's for the longest time, just a light suction that makes his knees weak. When he pulls away, Jared chases his lips, and Jen smiles like his heart's swelling painfully too.
"Lots of things, Jay." Jensen sighs as Jared traces a thumb over his cheekbone. "At first I couldn't because, you know, we'd be history's biggest fucking gay cliché. And then there was Danny, and it felt like the worst possible thing to want your best friend as badly as I wanted you." Jensen's eyes are the clearest green. "That's all just lame excuses for being a coward, though, and I'm sorry."
Jared hums. "As far as big confessions go, you're one of the greats, Ackles."
"Yeah, well, I try." Jensen looks just as flustered as Jared is, covering up just as bad. You'd think they were middle school thespians instead of full-blown actors at how obvious they were being.
But isn't that what it's all about, really? None of those whispered I love you's that fall softly into the air to be blown away by a breeze, carried away to unknown destinations
This is them opening up the way they know best, the tentative show of hands and hearts.
*
How do you define a relationship?
Most folks would say it's tantamount to waking up in the same bed as the other person for some set period of time and wanting to do it for as long as you possibly can. That rings of truth, but it's still just a bunch of words when it comes to these boys. They've been waking up next to each other, living in each other’s pockets, for years, and it's never gotten old.
New theory, then. Or rather, no theory at all, but just the forward progression of time.
No promises of don't need nothing more, this is all I need are left unspoken, because it's easier said than done and they both know it. Jared may lose his patience and Jensen may lose his nerve, but if you think that they'll do something really really stupid then it just goes to show you haven't been paying enough attention.
So let's leave them there, the top of the metaphorical hill it's taken years to climb. In a kitchen full of sunlight, and it's all as poetic and sappy as you could have asked for. I told you it ends well for us all.
There isn't much left to say. This next part of the story, you'll have to figure out for yourselves.
Additional Notes: Okay, reposted with edits. Huge thank you's and hugging and smishing in general to bigj52, who was very very kind about pointing out that my spelling sucks. Thanks so much, honey. You're a superstar.
Special mention to ireena, who is this total sweetheart who convinced me to take this fic seriously. She says the loveliest things, no joke.
Title: The Adventures of Kangaroo Jack and his Trusty Sidekick Lemonhead
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Summary: Long, long summer when the hair sticks to the back of his neck and the cotton of his T-shirt feels like it's been painted on, and all Jared is doing is waiting for Jensen. The whole world is waiting for Jensen to get a fucking clue, but maybe he already has. Maybe that's what all this sleeping around is about. Non AU.
Beta Credits: To bigj52, who rocks like whoa and don't you forget it.
Disclaimer: Not true. Just me running my mouth even more than usual.
Notes: This has hints of meta strewn all over the place, and is almost canon, except, you know, not.
Please, please feel free to leave behind concrit and feedback, because this fic... well, i need all the help I can get with this monster.
The Adventures of Kangaroo Jack and his Trusty Sidekick Lemonhead
by weekend_exile
Long, long summer when the hair sticks to the back of his neck and the cotton of his T-shirt feels like it's been painted on, and all Jared is doing is waiting for Jensen. The whole world is waiting for Jensen to get a fucking clue, but maybe he already has. Maybe that's what all this sleeping around is about.
So. Jared is a naive fuck and Jensen is kind of a douche. That's really nothing new.
What's new is this knot in Jared’s stomach as he makes flapjacks at eight in the night because his internal clock doesn't mesh with the one hanging above the row of cabinets (the one shaped like a crying onion, remember that, Jen?) and he's always been the kind of guy to listen to what his body tells him. Still jetlagged from waking up on the plane in a different country, and there was that now-familiar scrabbling around in his mind, where was he, was he coming or going, where was Jen.
But yeah. Jared's kinda operating on autopilot at this very second, practiced twist of his wrist and thinking blankly about the first time, when Jensen snorted quietly at his Sunday Morning Flapjacks -before it became a ritual, before he moved in and isn't it weird how all of that feels like it happened to someone else, like there actually wasn't a time in Jared Padalecki's life when he and Jen weren't the two parts of the package -buy one get one free kinda- and said, you cook. Figures.
Jensen couldn't cook for shit, always falling back on takeout and the mess of empty pizza boxes strewn across his table whenever Jared came over to watch a game. He always appreciated Jared's ability, though, his eyes wide and green and hopeful like a kid's on mornings when he smelled bacon.
All kinds of thoughts floating harmlessly around like fluffy clouds on a sunny day. The flapjacks are about to burn. No, they're not. Jared wouldn't let them.
The next thought in his head is so clear and shocking, it's like taking on a train going at full tilt, steam pouring like a medieval beast: wish he were here.
He lets the flapjacks burn.
*
Nothing too dramatic, though. They've got enough of that on the show.
Just the small stuff, nothing explicit on their own. The sum of all the parts, you could say, co-worker and friend and brother and the guy who knew what you looked like asleep after a fourteen-hour day, and some other stuff. Bits and pieces like someone overturned the box of a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces strewn across the floor all bright and colorful, and Jared's never been big on grand gestures anyway.
Nothing too overt, then. Just the twist in Jensen's neck as he turns to raise his eyebrows questioningly at Jared when Misha asks whether he's busy that night. The rapid-fire exchange of looks when they're planning a prank, and it's like all Jared has to do is think and Jensen's nodding along and saying yeah, that'd be sweet. Stuff like that, and it's the most basic thing in the world.
And then there was that time Jensen came home drunk, hours after Jared had called it a night and fallen onto his bed to toss around in his sheets. Jensen had sat on the edge of his bed for the longest time and Jared hadn't been able to breathe. Just sitting there backlit something perfect by the moon in Vancouver and Jared's pulse had raced, thinking in bursts about big movie confessions and old stories he'd heard about getting drunk on the light of the moon and the condoms in his bedside drawer.
This isn't that kind of story, though. Never has been.
Jensen had stood up to leave after some time -minutes, hours, who the fuck knows, it's that damned internal clock going out of whack again- and Jared hadn't been able to help himself. "Off day tomorrow."
Jensen had smiled like all the troubles in the world had befallen him but he was trying not to be bothered by it. It shook something loose in Jared, some chunk of himself dislodged from place and thrust into a whole new scenario, new backstory. Jensen always seems to have this effect on him.
"Yeah," Jen'd said, in a voice as rough and deep as the crunch of gravel under boots. "You making me breakfast?"
Jared nodded even though it was dark and tried not to make it seem like a bigger promise, none of the forevers and always' that danced on the tip of his tongue like lines on the script he might as well have written on his own. Those lines are the ones he used to fuck up the worst on the show, worried about putting too much on display. He knows better now. He's a smart boy, after all.
He says, "Maybe. If you're real good." and bites back everything else, tries not to go over and put his hands all over Jensen, inhale the clean sweat and cologne and lingering traces of makeup . Because it's not that kind of story, either.
Jensen had let out a small huff of laughter. "Okay. Better keep my fingers crossed, then."
"Guess so." He cleared his throat and Jensen sort of shook himself, and the weird thrum of electricity in the room left like it had never been. "Night, Jen."
Jensen was half out the door by then. "Good night, Jay."
Jared settled back in his bed, and let go of any hopes of a good night's rest.
*
So. Here's how things are now:
Jared's in LA, trying his damndest to get his bearings in relation to something that's not Jensen fucking Ackles.
Jensen's... wherever the fuck he is, touring and doing his hippie thing cross country, on the road with his boy Steve. He sends postcards with bad drawings of stick figures and little to no words. Jay, he writes on the top, followed by a space of big fat nothing, and then his name like it means something. Half the time Jared's driven up the walls in frustration because they really should pass a law about actually fucking writing on all postcards that make the trip over state lines. Is it too much to ask, something banal and fucking mundane like saw the second biggest ball of twine in the world today?
Apparently so.
So Jared tries to control his too-long limbs so as not to knock anything over in his too-small apartment and calls his momma, who immediately invites him to come over. He looks at his dogs questioningly and they laugh with their panting mouths and that seems like affirmation enough if he's ever getting any, so he tells her yes.
He leaves a voicemail on Jensen's phone before picking up the bags he never bothered to unpack and getting the hell outta there.
*
Jensen returns his call three days later and Jared genuinely debates not picking up. He's comfortable where he is, spread out on a poolside deck chair with his sunglasses on and thinking about absolutely nothing, just kinda counting clouds as they pass by. Lazy and caught up in the moment in the most basic of ways. Killing time poolside, awesome times, goddamn right.
His phone's way over on the plastic table a few feet away. Muttering curses, he gets to his feet and reaches for the damn thing, answers without thinking too much about Jensen's name on the display and how it's been fucking days.
"Hey, asshole." He says without preamble. "Where the hell are you?"
"Great to hear from you, too, Padalecki." Jensen sounds amused in an offhand, completely exhausted kinda way. "Cleveland, man."
"Fuck Cleveland to fucking hell," Jared exclaims. "Dude, you sound like you wrestled with alligators all day or something."
Jensen laughs, no gravity behind it, none of that joy that makes his eyes light up like sparklers on the Fourth of July. "Or something," he agrees. "Ran into a fangirl at a gig the other night."
"Yeah?" Jared asks apprehensively. Jensen's not so great with the added benefits of playing a main character in one of the shows that attracted fans in masses; it's just the way it is. They go into conventions and suchlike well-fortified and with battle plans set in place. To point, Jen lets Jared be his human shield. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement and Jared likes the thought of that, the feel of it: if Jensen ever went to one of those things without Jared, he would have to housebreak his guest from scratch.
"Yeah." There's a rustle like Jensen's leaning back on his bed. Sleeping in, Jared guesses, and not doing a good job of it. Knowing Steve, they probably called it a night a couple of hours ago, when they couldn't call the daybreak Juliet and keep drinking anymore. "She seemed like she was there for the actual music, like I was an added bonus. It was cool."
Jared hums, settling back on his chair. The sky was split open like a gash, bleeding azure. He pressed down on his dick with the flat of his hand idly.
Jensen continues, quieter. "She asked where you were."
Jared struggles on a breath suddenly, tries not to choke. He forces nonchalance into his voice, miles and miles of wide open sky and as happy as a man could get, not missing anyone one bit, no sir. "And?"
He snuffles a laugh. "Told her you were probably living it up in San Antonio. Barbecues and poolside lazing around and whatnot."
"You know me too well, Ackles." Jared flexes his toes. He thinks about distance on a cosmic scale, Texas and Cleveland just a hairsbreadth away, he'd make it in no time at all. He could speed if he had to. He probably wouldn't have to.
He doesn't ask whether he should come over. Jensen doesn't give any indication it's anywhere near his mind, but Jared knows better.
"See you around, then." He says instead.
There's another faint rustle. Maybe Jensen nodded, forgetting he's on the phone. Jared's seen him do it countless times. "Yeah. Save some of that barbecue for me."
They hang up together like it's no big deal. And it isn't, mostly. There's just the problem of this tension between them that puts in guest appearances in their interactions that Jared tries his damndest to ignore, but gets under his skin nonetheless. It makes him itch. He absolutely fucking hates it, that sneaking little suspicion that he's going to spend the best years of his life waiting for his best friend to get with the program, get the true love memo.
*
Somewhere down the line, Jared learns to handle it better. You'd call it growing up, but that shit's fucking depressing, so let's hold back the labels for now, yeah?
In San Diego, Jared wakes up enough to mutter a curse and roll over when someone pokes at his side, and the mattress dips as Jensen climbs in.
It's quiet for the longest time, and Jared's just at that cusp between waking and dreaming again, willing to ignore the disturbance and fall right back into sleep, when Jensen says, "You awake, man?"
Jared sighs and shakes his head. The moonlight's strong enough for Jen to pick out the movement. He laughs a little.
Jared snuggled deeper into the covers, not wanting Jensen to rob him of the promise of sleep; he'd stayed up late waiting and wondering. Now that Jen's here, it seems a waste of everyone's time and in bad form.
Jensen shifts infinitesimally closer, so that his shoulder's touching Jared's back. It sends a single spark down his spine and he kind of hates himself for that.
"Darren's gay, you know that?" He asks from the humid air between them.
Jared goes still, mind flashing back to the casual flirting back and forth on set, memories like gunfire, bullets streaking right across Jared's chest.
"Huh," he says.
Jensen hums. His shoulder presses more firmly against Jared's spine, and heat floods through for a moment, erasing all else.
Jensen's hand comes up, fingertips splayed out in a five-point star on Jared's skin. Unwavering points of heat, and Jared holds on to them in his mind as a constant in this fever dream he calls a life.
*
Jensen hooking up with Danny isn't the worst thing that happened to Jared, though it definitely makes the top five. It's the kind of random and out of the blue it's enough to floor a guy, and...
Wait. I'm telling it all wrong. Start at the beginning, they say, and keep off the tangents. Stick to the fucking facts.
The beginning, then, or what passes for it in this particular subplot. Stretch your memory like a rubber band across the state, the distance from Texas to Cleveland, from home to the place where the one you love stares at a sky that's exponentially the same, and come to this place we'll label as the beginning just for the sake of storytelling.
Two seasons into the show, and Jared -this version of Jared we're talking about, the younger one- has this sense of being on the absolute top of his game. Songs come on the jukebox he's never heard before but he can guess the words to it, spot-on every single time and making Jensen shake his head and say, damn, son. Dart games against Jeff and swapping high-school pothead stories with Sera, and Jared's life is coming together something perfect.
Ratings were up and Kripke and Singer were narrating long winding stories at a corner of the bar like a couple of drunken frat boys. Jared almost sees what they're getting at -this freaky new empathy thing he's got going on, along with the rest of it- because he was never like this back on Gilmore Girls. So okay, maybe it's physically impossible to feel any level of fulfilment with anything on the WB, but that's just gravy.
Point is, the sense of being left behind that attacks him this far into a commitment isn't there no matter how hard he looks for it. It seems like nine different kinds of miracle.
It's this feeling of freefalling that he's trying to explain to Jensen, God knows how many shots in. The glasses bear witness like shards of glass scattered across the table, and Jared's talking with his hands and arms flailing, Jensen nodding along and grinning into his beer at the right places. Jared is kinda stupidly in love with him at that point, eyes plastered on Jensen like a favorite threadbare T shirt.
He tells Jensen, "See, that's the weird chemistry of it, it's what keeps 'em coming back for more, you get what I'm saying?"
Jensen flicks a sideways glance at him, lazy and considering. "I get you're way too drunk to be talking about chemistry in any context, man."
A laugh punches out of Jared, full-throated and making his ribs ache. He laughs and laughs, and Jensen looks amused and pleased, his eyes rolling but it's mostly for show.
Cramming his fist in his mouth to hold in the tail end of his laughter and kind of clutching at his sides, Jared looks around the bar. It's mostly deserted, a couple of the guys from the crew still hanging around. Jensen and Jared broke away from the main group ealier on in the night when Jen began getting antsy in the lame drinking competitions but Jared wasn't ready to call it a night. It, like nearly all their other agreements, worked fine for both.
And then Jared got the idea -fucking brilliant, it seemed at the time- to kiss Jensen.
Take a step away from the story for a second. Away from this one, at least.
A quick look at the history of Jared Padalecki, the arc of time and plot interwoven like a Persian carpet over his head. Bear with me.
Thinking's never been his strong suit, since he never got the feel for it, never knew where to stop, where to draw the line. He's a self-proclaimed man of action and long detailed plans for seduction and confessions spurred by alcohol and the scraping together of courage really isn't his thing at all.
But then this was Jensen, not some blushing nerve-wracking high school crush. Jen's been his best friend ever since he entered this strange exhilarating life, and Jared's not stupid. He knows that it's not something to be taken lightly, the way they clicked so effortlessly.
He knew all of this. And here's the important part: he didn't care.
Smart boy like him, he knew the stakes and all he wanted was something more, something he knew there was a definite possibility of.
So that blows the drunken mistake theory out of the water. Jared's always known he's wanted this, has always been ready to risk everything and dive in headfirst.
I never said he wasn't naive, remember. Just that he wasn't stupid.
So yeah. Middle of the night, Vancouver, middle of his whole fucking life, and Jared leaned over the table and, God help him, kissed Jensen.
It obviously didn't register at first with Jensen, his lips soft and unmoving under Jared's. They both breathed eachother in for a second, and Jared had this curious feeling like everything below his skin was re-arranging itself, sliding into place to achieve a whole new meaning. He drew back, surprised. "Huh."
Jensen was watching him, eyes lidded. He was noticably not freaking out, his eyes trained on Jared's lips, obviously having seen this coming.
Jared stares back, poleaxed.
Slowly, deliberately, Jensen reaches up to touch his lips, full and red, watching Jared watching him. Jared groans a little.
When their lips touch again, it's with intent written across it as plain as day and then some, teeth clashing at point of impact and Jensen turning his neck to get the right angle and it's smooth sailing from there.
Jensen climbs onto his lap, twisting his hands in his hair. Grinds down slow and practised like he's been waiting for this his whole life, and Jared can never get enough air in his lungs to keep his vision from spinning. Endless green of Jensen's eyes, with that faintly desperate, pained look, and there isn't any way to fucking breathe.
He comes embarrassingly fast, achingly hard and writhing under Jensen one second and warm and sticky and wet in his boxers the next. Jensen follows a split second later, muffling Jared's name into his neck, biting down.
Later, they go into the bathroom together, not meeting eachother's eyes. Loose untethered feeling in Jared's chest like he's floating miles above, reaching out to touch the moon and showing Jensen, See, awesome, right, man?
Jensen finishes cleaning up first, leaving the bathroom with a slap to Jared's ass as Jared tries to get a stain from his shirt on the sink. What he really wants is to go home and have a long shower and climb into bed, but when he raises his voice to ask Jensen Jen's already gone.
So he clamps down on the anxiety and follows him out. Scans the room, and can't really say he's surprised to see Jen chatting up a pretty redhead sitting at the bar.
He stares a while, not really thinking anything specific and trying to numb himself against the blow before it comes. He admires the green of Jen's eyes in the dim light, the angle of her throat as she looked up at him, smiling.
He doesn't know how long, exactly, he stands there, but he makes sure to catch Jen's eye before he leaves. Makes sure to point at the door and then at himself, eyebrows arched.
And then Jensen nods, shrugging and fucking smiling, and Jared distinctly hears half the illusions he built for himself shatter away without much ceremony. He makes himself nod back, and leaves the bar alone.
*
So. Now you know.
That was just the first time, see. It happened a couple times more, in the dim lighting of unfamiliar bars and mens rooms. Patchwork of glimpses at how his life would be from then on, and Jared was terrified most of the time, expectant and edgy and just totally out of his depth in some ways.
And then there's that slow sluggish flow of blood that never lets up, coming from the wound Jensen left in him that first time. He covers it up, plays it casual, but there are times when it's past midnight and he's drunker than he should be, and Jen catches his eye across the room like he knows Jared's about to collapse from bloodloss, and hauls him out.
Already told you it wasn't just this one big scene I was leading up to. Shattered glass catching the light on the floor, slanted and not quite right, and if you look at them at a specific angle, you maybe could see where this is going.
Stick with me. It's almost over now.
*
Jensen stayed with Danneel for over eight months.
It's the longest relationship Jared's seen him in, and he's impressed in a vague secondhand kind of way. He, in turn, drinks a lot and fucks around more, until he realizes that that shit really was beyond pathetic and made a valiant attempt to cut it out. The success of this desicion is debatable, but so's everything else, so shut your face before my fist does it for you.
Where was I? Right, Jen and Danny. Cute couple. Just imagine the kids, all red-haired and freckled. Jared would be best man at the wedding, and do right by Jensen even though the mere possibility makes him want to retch.
No use thinking of what-if's, though. Any boy from where Jared and Jensen're from could tell you as much. Time to go right back to where we started from, the here and now.
Jared spends most of his time poolside. Sometimes he reads paperback novels he dug out of a box in the garage, origin unknown. Mostly he stares at the clear blue sky and tries not to feel like he's drowning in watercolors.
He washes off the chlorine and sunlight on his skin in the shower, jerks off with his mind blank.
He goes out drinking with a pair of his old high school buddies one night and comes home late, mind leaping and swerving and sticking in places like an out-of control car. He thinks about Jensen in fits and bursts, in abstract and objective terms and comes back to find that hours had passed, or no time at all. He's maybe drunk more than he should, but that's what hiatus is for.
He stumbles out of the truck and waves his friends off. When he turns to the house, he sees a figure sitting on the porch steps and with a give of his stomach recognizes Jensen immediately.
Jensen unhooks his earphones when Jared draws near, and smiles up at him unguardedly. His eyes are tired, hair sticking out every which way, and he makes Jared's breath catch. But that's hardly anything new. "Hey." he says.
Jared takes in the two duffel bags, Jensen's ratty jeans and worn T-shirt. Then he grins, feeling like he ran off a skyscraper with his arms spread wide, laughing all the way. "Hey," he says back, kinda dopey, and Jen laughs and that's that.
*
Let's try our hands at time travel again.
Not too far away from the last place we left twenty-four year old Jared. Same bar, same girl, same song on the jukebox. Same best friend sitting in the booth across from him, but everything's different, and isn't that what this story is about anyway?
Shut up and listen. Listen.
Jensen and Danneel break up just before shooting for the new season begins. It's painless and no one's quite sure who dumped who, but there's a period of time when Jensen avoids his best friend like the plague.
So Jared does the obvious thing and gets him drunk.
They're back to normal -pre-Danny normal, which is as normal as they're ever gonna get, these boys- within the hour, drinking Coronas with lime and watching late-night television. Jensen snickers at regular intervals, and Jared persists that they need whatever equipment they're advertising.
Jared's really getting into a rant about whatever infomercial that's on at the time- we so totally need one of those, man, we can make our own dog food in it. And look, pizza! Never mind if that defies all the laws of Physics, shut up. We're so calling that number- when Jensen begins laughing, full-bellied and joyful.
Jared joins him after a beat, laughing helplessly and catching Jensen's eye and laughing harder.
That's not to say it was off to the fucking sunset after that, though. Sorry if you got your hopes up.
Jensen still slept around, didn't even bother to slap on the perfunctory label of 'dating' to what he was doing with this seemingly endless flow of girls and the occasional guy. As far as Jared knew, most of them lasted as long as it took to get through dinner at a fancy restaurant -because Jen's a gentleman, after all and everything- and a blowjob in the bathroom. Few people made it to the second date, even fewer got to meet Jared.
And he was mostly fine with that. He came up with a plan of his own, which, if not foolproof, kept him from going prematurely grey.
So he made his intentions crystal clear, let it shine through bright like the single star in a cloudless sky in his eyes. He made flapjacks for breakfast and fought with Jensen over whether to fix the PSP or upgrade to an Xbox. He took Jensen to the park with the dogs. But he stayed out of the way when Jensen got this speculative look in his eyes at a table in the corner of a bar.
And for almost two years, it worked.
*
Here's one thing that stands out, something Jared will always remember:
In Chicago, they were booked in the same hotel the convention would be, as usual. Jared and Jensen had rooms just across the hall from each other. They spent their mornings playing card games or watching the consistently crappy movies on TV. Jared would explain, in great detail, why crappy daytime sitcoms were actually helping humanity grow wiser because they were so dumb everyone drew the line there. Jensen nods and makes noises at all the right places, amusement tinting his eyes a brighter shade of green than usual.
Jared gets cabin fever eventually, and wanders off in search of food. He shares peanuts with a girl near the open bar who claims she watches the show regularly, but not regularly enough for him to be worried. They discuss plot holes, and she buys him candy for the road with a huge grin and a wink.
Movement across the room catches his eye, and Jared watches Darren make his way across the dining area, hands in pockets, looking around every so often. He doesn't think too much of it, and the girl sitting next to him is very pretty, hanging on to his every word like he might spout Homer any second now, and that's pretty cool.
It's nearly half an hour later when the stunt guy reappears, stumbling a little, looking dazed like he spent all that time getting beaten up by a baseball bat. He flounders his way up to the bar, his elbows landing like out-of-control planes on the mahogany countertop. Jared recognizes the signs with no effort at all: Jensen tends to have that effect on people. Kinda overwhelming, hard to find solid ground until you get to know him properly and find out that it's all just an act.
He excuses himself and the not-quite-fangirl smiles, tells him she hopes to see him again. Jared nods, effortlessly charming, and heads back towards their rooms. He stops for a brief "You alright?" towards Darren, who flinches so violently Jared wishes he hadn't bothered. He mumbles halting excuses, going a deep dark red, until Jared orders him a drink and simply leaves.
He knocks perfunctorily on Jensen's door before he slips in. He locks the door behind him, feeling slightly paranoid.
Jensen doesn't acknowledge his entrance, lying with his half his face mashed against the pillow on the bed. Jared watches the muscles on his shoulders tense briefly before going over and climbing under the covers.
It's warm out, too warm to be sharing a bed in the middle of the day, and Jen makes a snuffling noise of protest. Jared ignores it like he's meant to, and turns to face Jensen.
"Saw Darren out there." he says, and Jensen hums. "You're gonna get him in trouble, you know." he adds, quieter.
Jensen lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. "He'll handle it."
Jared bites his lip and nods. "Whatever you say, Jen."
Jensen shifts his head so he's looking directly at Jared. He smiles, soft blinding smile that makes Jared's heart stumble on its tracks.
"Go to sleep, Jay." he says, touching his fingers to Jared's face, the minimal contact flooding heat through Jared.
Jared stares at him for a long moment, just 'cause. Then he closes his eyes.
He dreams of the wide open sky, the color blue of joyful memory. Soaring, with Jensen's unquestioned presence beside him.
*
Zipping through time again. Yeah yeah, I know it's getting old. There's a light at the end of this tunnel, though. Trust me. Trust in them, these boys who don't really know what they're doing any more than you or me.
So yeah. The here and now, and here's how it plays out, here's the lowdown:
Jensen moves into Jared's childhood home in San Antonio. His parents welcome him like a lost fourth child, his Momma cooing over how pretty Jen always was and feeding them both ludicrous amounts of very good food. It's been almost two years since Jensen came here last, and Jared's house inhales him into the walls.
Jensen gets the guest bedroom down the hall from Jared's, and comes over frequently to laugh at Jared's baseball sheets. Jared's bed is freaking enormous and he still fits in without any limbs dangling off, so he's not complaining.
Don't get me wrong, though. It's all very vanilla, real platonic, yessir no ma'am no funny business here stuff. They wrestle and touch excessively and play bizarre slapping games Jensen's big brother Jason invented way back when, but they never go beyond that.
They sleep till late and watch every game of every sport on TV. They venture out to buy Cheetos and apples and cereals, and that's about it.
At the end of a week, Jared's heating up some chilli when Jensen comes up from behind and puts his arms around his waist.
Jared freezes for a split second before his muscles relax into the warm heat of Jensen's bare chest.
Jen's lips find the pulse point on his neck, and sucks lightly. Jared's entire body shudders. "I've been kind of an idiot, haven't I?"
Jared doesn't process the question at first, caught up in the feel of Jensen's mouth. Then he cocks his head and turns around, careful not to shake Jen's hands off.
"What d'you mean?"
Jensen shrugs, his eyes warm in the honey-colored morning light. "I mean, I've been so obsessed about ignoring this thing between us." He waves a hand vaguely in the air indicating both of them. "Like I said, stupid."
Jared blinks, too-fast in rhythm with his heartbeat, and it makes his eyes itch. "What, uh," he clears his throat. "What changed your mind?"
Jensen leans up to press his lips against Jared's for the longest time, just a light suction that makes his knees weak. When he pulls away, Jared chases his lips, and Jen smiles like his heart's swelling painfully too.
"Lots of things, Jay." Jensen sighs as Jared traces a thumb over his cheekbone. "At first I couldn't because, you know, we'd be history's biggest fucking gay cliché. And then there was Danny, and it felt like the worst possible thing to want your best friend as badly as I wanted you." Jensen's eyes are the clearest green. "That's all just lame excuses for being a coward, though, and I'm sorry."
Jared hums. "As far as big confessions go, you're one of the greats, Ackles."
"Yeah, well, I try." Jensen looks just as flustered as Jared is, covering up just as bad. You'd think they were middle school thespians instead of full-blown actors at how obvious they were being.
But isn't that what it's all about, really? None of those whispered I love you's that fall softly into the air to be blown away by a breeze, carried away to unknown destinations
This is them opening up the way they know best, the tentative show of hands and hearts.
*
How do you define a relationship?
Most folks would say it's tantamount to waking up in the same bed as the other person for some set period of time and wanting to do it for as long as you possibly can. That rings of truth, but it's still just a bunch of words when it comes to these boys. They've been waking up next to each other, living in each other’s pockets, for years, and it's never gotten old.
New theory, then. Or rather, no theory at all, but just the forward progression of time.
No promises of don't need nothing more, this is all I need are left unspoken, because it's easier said than done and they both know it. Jared may lose his patience and Jensen may lose his nerve, but if you think that they'll do something really really stupid then it just goes to show you haven't been paying enough attention.
So let's leave them there, the top of the metaphorical hill it's taken years to climb. In a kitchen full of sunlight, and it's all as poetic and sappy as you could have asked for. I told you it ends well for us all.
There isn't much left to say. This next part of the story, you'll have to figure out for yourselves.