Things That Never Age - J2 (R), 2/3
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Part Two
Jensen spends the next few days holed up in his condo, doing all sorts of boring weekend warrior type projects that hadn't seemed appealing until he desperately needed a reason to stay at home. Touching up paint, fixing the shower curtain rod in the guest bath, throwing out all the junk he's accumulated. None of it is Jensen's idea of fun, but it keeps him busy. When the state of his pantry starts to get dire, he even goes to the grocery store two towns over and tells himself it's for the better sales.
It's not that he's trying to avoid Jared. Well, not really, and not out of any anger at him. Jensen wasn't lying when he said he didn't hate Jared. But everything about Jared is a mystery now, especially whatever it is that he expects from Jensen, and Jensen is conflicted, to say the least. He doesn't know if he's supposed to act like Jared's best friend or his ex, and he has no idea if they can get to anything more than stilted conversation and uncomfortable staring. He's not avoiding Jared, but he is putting off seeing Jared until he knows what to say to him. It's going to take some time.
Unfortunately for Jensen, he isn't quite lucky enough to get the time he wants.
The doorbell rings on Friday afternoon, and when Jensen finally digs himself out of the mess his kitchen improvements have become, he opens the door to see Jared, standing right there on his front step, looking comfortable in a t-shirt, fraying jeans, and a pair of sunglasses. "Hi," Jared says, pulling the sunglasses from his face and running a hand through his shaggy hair.
"Hey," Jensen replies. "What are you doing here?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?" Jared tries, and miserably fails, to look innocent.
"If I had given you my address, then I might."
"If you didn't want random people to show up at your place, you shouldn't have yourself listed in the phonebook."
"You looked up where I live? That sounds suspiciously like stalking."
"Just a little. More like 'escorted out by security' stalking than 'restraining order time,' I'd say." Jensen laughs at that, more out of nervousness than amusement, and Jared joins in, equally uneasy. When they calm, Jared says, "Well, other than trying to creep you out, I came over because I was hoping we could talk, if you're free."
"Uh, yeah, sure, c'mon in." Jensen opens the door the rest of the way to let Jared inside. Jared steps into the condo, sticking his hands in his pockets and gazing around the living room. Jared, who has everything, is in Jensen's home, looking at the shabbiness and disorder, and Jensen mumbles, "Um, don't mind the mess; I've been trying to fix up a few things and it's kind of gotten outta hand."
"It's no problem. I just came over because I wanted to tell you that I was serious the other night. I really do want to keep in touch now, get to know you again, as friends. And I do want to hang out with you. I was hoping, I guess, well, do you have some time now? We could go somewhere, grab something for lunch, maybe?"
Jensen could come up with a reason why he can't; he's not a terrible liar, and Jared has to have forgotten his tells by now. But he's spent most of four and a half days cooped up inside, with not much more than a few texts from Mike to remind him that there's an outside world. A chance to go out should be a no-brainer. And, Jensen reminds himself, he promised Jared that they could try. They have to start some time. Jensen can't put it off forever. "All right," Jensen answers. "Where did you want to go?"
Jared shrugs. "You can choose. Man, I don't even know what's around here anymore. Barely recognized anything when I was driving over."
"There's this place down by the library. It's just a sandwich shop, but it's good and the lunch rush should be over by now."
"That sounds great."
"Cool. We can take my car, if you want."
"It'd probably be better that way. I'd just get us lost."
"They make GPS's for that now, you know," Jensen points out.
"That may stop me from getting lost, but it doesn't stop me from being too lazy to drive."
Jensen shakes his head in disbelief and says, "Whatever, you ass. Just let me grab my keys and we'll go."
Jensen gets his wallet and keys from the small table near the entrance and they head off, Jensen locking his door behind them before they walk over to the condo complex's shared garage. When the door opens to reveal Jensen's truck, Jared says, "So you finally got a real ride?"
"Hey, I loved that car. She lasted me all through high school and college."
"That car was already twelve years old, Jensen. It on its way to being a piece of junk when your brother bought it, let alone when he let you have it. You probably drove it 'til all that was left was the driver's seat and steering wheel."
"Pretty much. Got rid of it right after college graduation." He unlocks the truck and climbs in, Jared doing the same on the passenger side. "Had this thing ever since."
"Well, this is definitely an improvement."
"Glad to know I've got your seal of approval." Jensen starts the truck and pulls out of the garage.
Past a row of residential streets and onto the more developed roads a few minutes later, Jared's staring out his window, fascinated by what he sees as they go by. "There's a Walmart now?" Jared asks as they pass by it. "Civilization really has come to Goodson."
"Dunno if I'd call Walmart civilization, but yeah, there's been a lot more building up since you've been gone." Changed though Goodson may be, Jensen still feels the need to say, "We're not quite so small town anymore, but it's not L.A., of course." He makes a turn onto another street, one no less developed than the road they just left. "We're almost there," Jensen says.
When they get to the sandwich shop, it's not at all fancy inside, just some small, scattered tables and a counter displaying all sorts of chips and drinks and desserts. The kind of plain little place Jensen's sure Jared hasn't set foot in since before his big break. It's still about half-full with people taking their lunch break late, but there's no one waiting for service when they come up to the counter, so their orders go in quick.
When the kid at the register starts ringing things up, Jared pulls his wallet out of his back jeans pocket and says, "I'll get this."
"Not a date, Padalecki. I can pay for my own lunch."
"Trust me; you wouldn't be saying that if you'd seen my last paycheck. You'd have me paying for your grandkids' college then."
Jensen doesn't want to think about what kind of money Jared makes back in Hollywood, and he definitely doesn't want to consider what Jared must think about his measly teaching salary if he's so persistent about footing the bill for one small lunch. "One sandwich isn't going to break the bank. I'll pay it myself," Jensen insists.
"If that's what you want." Jared backs down, getting out only enough cash to cover his own meal and handing it to the cashier. Jensen does the same, and when their orders are ready a few moments later, they grab their food and head for a table in the front corner.
Jared wastes no time digging into his food, taking a giant, sloppy bite without regard to how deplorable his eating habits look to anyone not used to it. While they eat, Jensen watches with amusement, recalling all the number of times Jared's mother had tried in vain to get him to learn some table manners. He can't help snorting as Jared ends up dropping half the lettuce from his sandwich onto his plate.
"What?" Jared asks, not bothering to finish chewing first.
"You still can't eat like a human being, I see. You never change, do you?"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Jared smiles mischievously. "Nine years since we last talked, that's a lot of time. I could be a totally different person."
"Jared, unless you're staring in a drag show on the side and not telling me, I don't think you're all that different." Despite Jensen's still constant apprehension, it's easy to fall into old patterns. It feels normal to joke with Jared, and at his expense, trading good-natured insults back and forth like they always had.
"Hey, I'd look good in a skirt; I've got the legs for it, don't I?"
Jensen makes a face. "That is a mental image I never wanted, thank you very much."
"You're welcome," Jared says brightly. "So, tell me stuff. How long have you been at the school?"
Just the topic he'd hoped they'd steer clear of. "Right out of college, pretty much," Jensen reluctantly answers.
"Mike too?"
"Yeah, we both happened to get hired 'round the same time."
"I gotta ask… how'd you end up teaching? During high school you always said you'd go into some kind of politics thing."
Jensen picks at his food as he tries to figure out how to answer, how to tell Jared that he never chased after what they'd dreamed of when they were teenagers. He finally says, "I double majored, political science and education. Figured I'd need a backup since putting all my hopes on working in government was kind of a big risk. Thought I'd teach for a little while until I had enough money for more school or something, but I kind of just… stayed. And it's a good job, mostly. I mean, you put up with your fair share of stupidity from the kids, but it's worth it to get them learning."
"So you like it, then?"
Another question, too deep, too revealing, another that if answered truthfully would show how easily Jensen gave up. "Yeah, I do," he says with a strained smile.
"Never thought you'd be the teacher type. You really are happy with it?" Before Jensen can process the weird emphasis on the question, Jared hangs his head as if just realizing what he said. "Sorry, I shouldn't push like that; it's not my place. You don't have to answer." He looks back at Jensen. "So, at the reunion, you said that your brother's a dad now?"
The subject changed, they spend the rest of the lunch talking about anything but Jensen's job, or Jared's growing fame, or the year and a half they were together. The conversation's not without self-conscious pauses or reminders of the tension in their current relationship, but it's definitely more comfortable than Jensen had expected. For once, Jensen lets himself clearly remember how much their friendship worked, and, if he lets himself think about it, he can understand why Jared is so eager for it to be that way again.
They finish their food somewhere between one joking barb and another, and head back to Jensen's place afterwards, where they stand next to Jared's rental car, figuring out how to say goodbye. Jensen considers inviting Jared back in, knows Jared would like that, that it would make him happy. Instead, he says, "Think you can manage not to get lost on your way home?"
"I think so." Jared grins and gets inside the car, leaving the door open. "If I hit Oklahoma, I've driven too far, right?"
Jensen snickers. "Don't call later and expect me to give you directions. You're on your own, man."
"I'll keep that in mind." Jared closes the door, starts his car, and puts the window down. "Thanks, Jensen, for giving me a chance today. It means… thanks."
"See you, Jared," Jensen says, and means it.
"See ya." Jared pulls the car out and turns onto the street, and Jensen watches him leave. Jensen doesn't go inside until Jared is out of sight.
* * * * *
By the time the weekend's over, Jensen's pretty sure that he suffered from some kind of temporary insanity during his lunch with Jared. The past is supposed to stay there, all the 'doomed to repeat' clichés be damned, but Jensen seemed to have forgotten that somewhere along the line. But without Jared's wide smile and earnest eyes right there to confuse him, Jensen remembers that, despite how good it felt to get over some of their earlier awkwardness, he's supposed to be keeping a certain amount of distance. Because at the end of this all, Jared isn't staying, not for good, and when he goes back to Hollywood their friendship might as well be on life support. The last thing Jensen wants is for this to fail as spectacularly as their romantic relationship did. Though he feels a bit ridiculous, Jensen returns to Operation Hermit, shutting himself in his condo and trying to plan what he'll do if Jared shows up at his door again.
Jensen's idly surfing the web, resolutely staying away from Jared's IMDB page, when his cell phone jingles out his text message tone from its place on the desk. He grabs the phone and checks the display, which shows a number he doesn't have listed. He hits the button to open the full message and reads:
Since when did Goodson get a dog park?
Jared? he guesses, and sends off the reply.
The one and only :-D
How'd you get my cell number?
I may have run into Mike yesterday and conned him into telling me.
Jensen rolls his eyes and texts Mike, Traitor, and then sends to Jared: You're getting dangerously close to 'restraining order' stalking.
:-P Come on, when'd we get a dog park?
Few months ago. Why do you care?
Because it's cool!
Do you even have a dog?
Well, no, but I like dogs. I could get some dogs.
You're going to get dogs just to use the dog park?
I didn't mean I'd get dogs right now. Just that I'd like them sometime. My house is too big for just one person anyway.
Whatever, as long as you don't try to drag me to the animal shelter with you.
And thus begins Jared's reign of texting terror, when he can't seem to go an hour without messaging about every random little thing, and Jensen seriously begins to fear for his phone bill. Jared sends jokes and pictures, rants about everything from slow drivers to the housing market, never staying on one topic for long. It goes from dogs to movies about dogs to video games to the election to whatever weird thing Jared's just found on YouTube.
What's with all the texts? Jensen finally sends.
You're more interesting than watching paint dry. No, really, I'm helping my mom paint the dining room and it's boring me to death.
And as much as Jensen wants to call Friday's lunch a glitch, this feels like before, when they would spend summers sprawled out on Jared's living room floor, Jensen trying to pay attention to whatever movie was on the TV while Jared talked all the way through. Like all the times they narrowly avoided detention for when Jared convinced him to help with some school-wide prank. Even with their pile of issues, it's like stepping back in time to the beginnings of their friendship, when everything was new and possible. It's surprising, and thrilling, for them to go so easily back to something like what they used to be.
It's also maybe a little fucking terrifying.
* * * * *
After days of texting back and forth, Jensen isn't shocked when Jared calls late Thursday morning and says, "I'm bored out of my skull. Come do something with me?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno. Just drive around, I guess. See what we can find. I promise this time I won't be lazy enough to make you drive."
Fresh off his new optimism for their friendship that the last few days have instilled in him, Jensen doesn't hesitate to say, "Sure. Pick me up in like an hour?"
Jared's more or less on time to get him, and they spend a long stretch of time aimlessly following streets Jared seems to choose at random. Jensen's enthusiasm for hanging out manages to last through all of Jared's erratic driving and endless rambling, right up until the moment when he pulls the car into the school's nearly empty lot, taking a parking space as close to the sprawling brick building as possible.
Jensen groans. "Summer vacation, Jared. That means I don't have to be here."
"Just let me have this one afternoon of stupid reminiscing about the days of our misspent youth. No more than an hour. Please?"
"All right. But only to keep you from that pathetic begging." Jensen shakes his head good-naturedly. "The things I do for you."
"Thank you, Jensen," he singsongs before he turns off the engine.
They hop out of the car and walk the short distance to the large glass doors of the main entrance, where Jared holds the door for Jensen, a challenging grin on his face like he expects Jensen to comment. But he doesn't, only says, "Just gotta let whatever staff they've got in know I'm here," and heads for the main office.
Once Jensen's alerted the secretary, he's back in the hall with Jared, who asks, "So, where's your room?"
"It's nonexistent right now, actually. They're sticking the social studies department in the new set of portables they're putting up in back."
"So you've got nothing good to show me. Directionless wandering it is, then." He takes a veering turn down the hallway that leads to the gym, walking backwards so he can make faces as Jensen follows. This could be ten years ago, the way they weave through the cinderblock corridors, past classrooms and bulletin boards while Jared lets out a steady stream of chatter about the various trouble they'd gotten into as teenagers.
When they're halfway across the school, Jared makes an abrupt change of topic, asking, "So… you're not seeing anybody, right?"
"No…" Jensen isn't sure he likes where this might be going.
"Must be hard. To find a boyfriend, I mean. Since you don't want to out yourself."
"Yeah. Anything gets out, I'll have half the parents in town on the phone with the Superintendent. I kind of avoid relationships."
Jared slows down a little, comes up next to Jensen and falls in step with him. "That must suck," he says.
"It's fine." Jared raises an eyebrow, looking like he doesn't believe that, and Jensen shrugs. This is the life he's fallen into, and it isn't exactly an accepting one. Hell, even his old aspirations wouldn't have allowed him much freedom. Having to staying closeted was something he'd mostly come to terms with a long time ago. Jensen adds, "Hey, it's not like you're advertising your sexuality either."
"Yeah, but I can, if I want to. I mean, it wouldn't be such a great idea hot off the divorce, but someday, yeah, I could."
Jensen's incredibly thankful when the hallway they're following opens up into the lobby in front of the gymnasium, cutting off the line their conversation was taking. The tall glass trophy case by the gym doors quickly catches Jared's attention, and he bounds across the room. Jared intently peers into the display case, eyes on the large papier-mâché tiger inside, its orange stripes faded to yellow thanks to time. A devilish smile spreads across his face.
"You gonna let me steal it this time?" he says.
"What the hell? No, I'm not letting you steal the mascot." Jensen rolls his eyes. "You're really still on about that?"
"Yes, I am. You've always been such a spoilsport."
"Jared, after the anatomically correct gingerbread man incident, you were one detention away from having your ass handed to you."
"But it was tradition! A tradition you never let me complete. And won't let me go through with now."
"Because unlike you, I'm sane. And there are cameras now."
"I repeat: spoilsport. Someday you'll learn to live a little."
"If this is your definition of living, then probably not."
Jared laughs, clear and happy, and says, "One day, Jensen. I promise you," like they've got more than these few fleeting weeks to reforge their friendship. He lightly smacks Jensen on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's see the rest of the place."
* * * * *
They continue to trade calls and texts throughout the week, until Jared turns up at Jensen's door again on a Wednesday, a scowl on his face and a very large, unmarked cardboard box on the step at his feet. He says, "Can I hide here for a while?" He looks tired and unhappy, nothing like the overly energetic boy Jensen once loved, like Jared still can be. Instead this is the Jared who admitted to his divorce in a darkening bar.
"You all right?" Jensen asks.
"Not really," he says, raising a hand to lean on the doorframe. "I was out a couple of days ago and I ran into this entertainment reporter chick from the Dallas Morning News, and she recognized me. I guess she thinks she'll be the hero of the media if she can get me to finally comment on the divorce and now she won't fucking leave me alone. She was at my parents' house, Jensen. I had to call them and tell them to keep away for the rest of the day so she couldn't bother them. You and me were joking about stalking and restraining orders, but…"
"Oh shit, Jared. I'm sorry; 'course you can hang out here." Jensen doesn't think about it, just moves out of the way and lets Jared inside, not hesitating at all when he's here and hurting. Jared picks up the box and hauls it in with him, plunking it down none too gently when he reaches the couch.
"Thanks, Jensen." Jared's expression brightens a bit, not to a full smile, but better than his previous gloom. "I seem to be saying that a lot lately."
"Damn right you should be thankful for me," Jensen says, letting a quick little smile show that he's joking. "So what're you doing about the reporter?"
"Called my lawyer and asked her to get in touch with the paper to bitch them out. Lynn's one scary lady; if anyone can get this woman to back off, it's her."
"Good. I hope it's sorted out soon. You can hang out as long as you need to. Do you want a drink or something?"
"No, I'm good." Jared perches himself on the arm of the sofa, taking in the room around him, looking at the worn furniture, the guitar in the corner, the full bookcase. "You have a nice place."
Jensen's condo isn't much, not really, just a cramped, outdated thing, the best he could afford without crawling to his parents for monetary help when he realized he was staying in Goodson. He's done what he can with it, a good chunk of that while he was avoiding Jared earlier, but watching Jared look at his home, it feels inadequate. "A place that's about the size of one room of your house?" he asks.
"No, gotta have a few more blockbusters before I can afford something like that." Jared snorts. "But I mean it; it is a nice place. Very you."
"Uh, thanks," Jensen says. He points to the box Jared dropped on the couch. "So what's in there?"
"My Xbox and Rock Band."
"You brought your Xbox all the way from California?" he asks, incredulous.
"Yep. And Rock Band. Well, just the guitars, but yeah." Jared grins as he opens the box and starts handing over various wires and plugs.
"You brought your Xbox all the way from California, and then to my place?"
"I was bored! And you know me and video games. Now help me set this thing up so I can kick your ass at Green Grass and High Tides." Jensen grumbles, but does as he asks, crossing the room to the television and beginning to match colored wires to hook up the cables so they can play.
Two hours later, Jensen's fingers feel like they could fall off thanks to the torture he just put them through. And on top of that, Jared did, in fact, deliver on his promise to thoroughly trounce him, which is a blow to Jensen's pride, albeit a very small one. "Dude, you kinda suck at this," Jared says as he shuts off the console.
Jensen sets down his controller in the box. "Whatever, this game is lame anyway. Kids should actually learn how to play a real guitar, none of this hitting buttons shit."
"Said like a true sore loser." Jensen gives Jared the finger, but Jared just tips his head back and laughs like Jensen's the funniest thing he's ever seen. "Don't feel too bad; I've been practicing. Haven't had much better to do lately than spend time with my parents, play video games, and annoy you." He flops back on the couch, loose-limbed and happy now, with the stresses that drove him to Jensen seemingly forgotten.
"Yeah, that sounds real exciting. Wouldn't you rather be off making movies?"
Jared shrugs. "Yes and no. "
"Well, that answer's not vague at all. Yes or no, which one is it?"
"It's like… my first real movie was Dreaming of Watertown, this little thing with no budget, and I wasn't expecting it to get noticed. But it did, and that got me Acquiescence, which got the Spirit Award, and next thing I know, I'm being signed on for what they were saying was the next summer blockbuster. Matt Damon calls you up and says he knows the perfect thing for you, you can't turn it down, right? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been working pretty much non-stop for the past few years, and it's good to take a break. Anyway, turns out I'll be flying back end of July, the twenty-seventh, to start my next project. Nearly two months isn't really that long a vacation."
"Do you ever…" Jensen trails off. "Never mind. I shouldn't ask."
"No, go ahead. What do you wanna know?"
Jensen takes a seat on the other end of the couch, looking down at his lap. He says, "It's just, don't you ever get sick of the fame thing?"
"It's not as bad for me as it is for some people, at least not yet. It does get old sometimes, though. I think I would mind it less if everything hadn't happened so fast, y'know what I mean? One day nobody knew who I was, and the next the paparazzi were following me around at the damned grocery store. There was like no room for adjustment, and that sucks. But even disregarding the money, I'm doing something I love, and people appreciate my work, so I've got it better than a hell of a lot of people."
"Even when you've got a reporter sitting outside your parents' house?"
After a pause, Jared answers, quieter, reflective, "When it comes down to it, that's my fault. I'm apparently the new big thing, or so people keep telling me, so of course the press was gonna come after me; of course they were gonna speculate. They've said things about me…" He sighs. "I wish now that Katie and I had said something, at least an official statement. Saying nothing just made everything even crazier than it would've been otherwise. If we'd just made some sort of comment, maybe they'd have backed off a little."
"You have a right to try to keep your privacy. It's not your fault. If you need to blame something, blame the people who think they've got a right to your personal business." Jared doesn't reply, and the silence between them, no longer strained, stretches for a few long moments, until Jensen blurts out, "What happened between you and your wife?" His eyes widen as realizes what he just asked, though he can't place where the question came from. "Oh, shit, Jared. I'm sorry; I keep asking things I shouldn't."
"No, it's fine." Jared shifts in his seat, tense now, resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. "I met Katie during Dreaming of Watertown; she had a small part and we got talking and we kinda just instantly clicked. So we went out and I liked her, we kept dating, and that was it. And it was good, in the beginning. We'd been together awhile when I started getting noticed and her acting was picking up, and I proposed.
"We got married 'bout a year and a half ago, but after the wedding, it was like everything started changing. Not fighting, really. Things weren't terrible. Just… it turned out that we wanted completely opposite things. We decided to end it before it could get bad. Like some kind of… marital preemptive action. It wasn't… that's it. It's been over a while, and I'm doing okay, mostly."
"I'm glad. I mean, glad you're all right, not that you got divorced," Jensen says.
"I know what you meant," Jared says. "Katie and I, it was just a matter of moving too fast, I guess. We had never really talked about stuff like we should've. Lot of things we never talked about. If I'm being honest with myself, as much as I wanted it, I shouldn't have proposed then. Should've waited 'til we were sure. But we didn't, and the last few months of it was like we were only really married on paper. So that's it, the whole story."
"Thanks, for telling me. You didn't have to." Jensen reaches out a hand to rest on Jared's shoulder, leaving it there only for a moment before he remembers distance and pulls away.
"I wanted to." Jared leans back against the couch again, looking at Jensen with a funny sort of smile. "But I just shared a whole bunch of really personal stuff, so it seems only fair that you tell me something now."
"You're a manipulative bastard, you know that?"
"I'll take that as a compliment." He grins.
Jensen mentally sorts through what he could say that would be on par with what Jared just shared, his self-promise of detachment forgotten. He wants to tell Jared something real. He wants to tell Jared about how he's lonely, about how it is to still be closeted and scared, and how ten years ago was the happiest he thinks he's ever been. A thousand things Jensen could say about how his life never turned out like he expected it to. But in the end, he settles on trading one tale of failure for another.
"All right," he starts. "My mom was the one who said I should double major in education. She said it was good to have big ambitions, but that I needed something to go back to. I guess she was just worried about me. When I finished college, I was only going to teach here for a year or two to save up money for whatever big-name law school I could get into. But then I'd been here a coupla years and before I started looking at places, I just started thinking that maybe Mom was right, maybe I wasn't gonna be the next great thing in politics. Not everyone's you; they don't get to be exactly what they wanted when they grow up."
"So you didn't even try?"
"No, I didn't," Jensen admits. "It just seemed worthless to go after it only to end up burning out. I figured that with all the scrutiny, at some point somebody'd find out I like guys, and 'course that doesn't play too well in the political arena. I figured there wasn't any point, so I just kept doing what I had to to keep teaching."
"You don't sound happy when you talk about your job," Jared points out.
"I don't hate it. It's not what I wanted, at first, but I've got a roof and a paycheck. Like you said, I've got it better than a lot of people."
Jared sits up, leaning in closer. "It's not like it's too late. You could start getting into local government stuff. You'd be good, Jensen; you can still, you know, follow your dreams, reach for the stars and all that crap."
"You sound like a Disney movie."
"So which one of us is Beauty, and who's the Beast? Wait, don't answer that; I know what you're gonna say."
"That you've certainly got the hair and the height to be the Beast?"
"Or that you're so pretty you'd have to be Beauty." Jared's smile turns silly with an exaggerated leer, and Jensen has to laugh.
"Tone down the cheese, Padalecki, before you break something. And I'm not pretty; I'm manly and handsome."
"Of course you are."
Jared stays through dinner, which he tries to help Jensen put together in the tiny kitchen, though he ends up getting in the way more often than not. They end up with slightly burned chicken, undercooked pasta, and an inordinate amount of dishes to clean. After, he finally heads out with his video games and one last thanks, Jensen, and Jensen has to remind himself not to tell him anytime.
When Jared is gone, first thing Jensen does is head for his computer and gives in to the temptation to search for Jared's name. There's the usual stuff, like lists of his work and accomplishments, interview clips. Articles touting him as the next hot thing to hit Hollywood. Jensen finds pictures of Jared with his arms around a pretty, slim, blonde-haired woman. They're on red carpets, and in paparazzi shots, flashing their brand new wedding rings at a camera. They look happy, Jensen thinks. And then there are the rumors, since the divorce, stuff about public arguments, and accusations of cheating, things Jensen knows could never be true, because despite the years and changes, Jensen is still sure in the knowledge of Jared's character.
His phone goes off again, another text from Jared. The coast is clear at home. :D Call you sometime later?
Jensen closes his browser and sends back, Sure. I'll talk to you later.
* * * * *
Two nights later, the bar isn't the same nearly quiet refuge it was last time Jared and Jensen were there, and Jensen almost turns around and leaves when he sees just how many people are packed inside. Each stool is occupied, and all the tables are filled with the weekend crowd. Different conversations, different laughter, all combine into the overwhelming sound of people, just the kind of noise that makes Jensen tense at Jared's side. Jared doesn't notice though, too busy slouching down just a little, trying to counteract the height that makes him stand out so much.
"We can head somewhere else if you want," Jensen offers, almost hoping that Jared takes it.
"Nah, it's okay. Just don't want to get noticed and cause a scene." Jared scans the bar. "I think I see Mike," he says, pointing towards a table on the other side of the room. He steps out of the doorway and into the throng of patrons, weaving in between groups of people, Jensen only a few steps behind him. They find Mike right where Jared said he'd be, sitting near the side wall with beers already on the table and what are probably the only two empty chairs in the place next to him.
"It's about time," Mike gripes as they sit. "I had to fight off a tattooed biker named Rock to save your seats. Seriously, he was like twice the size of Bigfoot here." He gestures toward Jared.
"If Goodson actually has a biker called Rock, I'll eat this bottle," Jared jokes, grabbing his drink.
"If Mike could win a fight against a biker named Rock, I'd eat every bottle in this place," Jensen says, and he and Jared share a laugh while Mike glares at them, though there's no real annoyance in it.
"Hey, I got you beer. You should be thanking me."
"Yeah, yeah. Oh how you suffer to be a good friend," Jensen mocks. "You're so unappreciated."
"Damn right I am. Where the hell have you been lately?"
"I've been busy." Which is true, since Jensen's definition of busy includes 'avoiding everyone else he knows so he doesn't have to talk about Jared.'
"So that means you can't answer my calls for over a week?"
"I'm a crap friend; what can I say?"
Before Mike can retort, Jared interrupts their back and forth, saying, "Oh, shit." Jensen and Mike both glance at Jared first, and then turn to follow his line of sight, where there is a red-haired woman striding purposefully towards their spot. Jensen looks back to Jared and doesn't even have to ask before he answers, displeasure clear in his expression, "It's that reporter."
"Oh shit," Jensen repeats. Mike looks puzzled, but there's no time to explain before the woman is standing at the table with a falsely friendly smile.
"Hi again, Jared. I saw you when I came in and I was hoping to catch you for a few more questions. Who are your friends? Oh, I'm being rude." She turns towards Mike and sticks her hand out. "Hello, I'm Julie McNiven, Dallas Morning News."
Mike looks at her in vague disbelief, and Jensen's getting ready to say just what he thinks of her when Jared tells them, "Wait here, I'll take care of this." He stands, circling around the table to stand next to the reporter. "I'd appreciate it if you'd not bother my friends, Ms. McNiven. And I do think we need to talk. If you'd follow me outside…?"
"That'd be great, Jared." She looks excited, clearly not understanding that Jared doesn't intend to answer a single question, and digs through her bag one-handedly as they walk off. "Now I know you don't want to talk about the divorce, but…" Her voice becomes indistinguishable among the others as she and Jared walk away.
"What the hell was that about?" Mike asks when they're gone.
"This creepy reporter chick won't leave Jared alone. Showed up at his house and everything. He set his lawyers on her boss, but it looks like it didn't take."
"God, that's gotta royally suck for him." Mike sets down his drink. "Speaking of Jared, what the fuck is up with you two? Coupla weeks ago you couldn't get away from the guy fast enough, now you're inviting him along to the bar?"
Jensen mentally curses Mike from getting straight to the point. "Are you mad I brought Jared with? 'Cause I didn't think you'd mind."
"No, I'm not mad, but I'd sure as hell like an explanation."
Jensen takes a moment, and then says, "We're just… reconnecting. It's not… we're not getting back together or anything. It's just, last time we were here, he was talking about how he wanted us to be friends again. So we're hanging out while he's in town. It's not a big deal."
"Jensen, you were still messed up over him years later, and you were the one who did the dumping."
"We're not going over this again, Mike."
"Well maybe we should."
"I'm gonna be fine. Anyway, he's going back to L.A. in July; it's not like anything can really happen."
"His leaving was the problem! He was here with you, you were all sappy and hopeful, and the second he was gone, you end up convinced your relationship was doomed to failure."
"That's not how it happened."
"Those are the basics." Mike sets his beer on the table and leans forward, resting his elbows on the wood. "Look, Jensen, I know you and Jared are whatever." He waves his hand around vaguely. "And yeah, you're an adult, can make your own decisions. I'm just saying you shouldn't let yourself get all fucked up over him again."
"I'm not going to. I'm telling you it's different now. I don't expect anything. So he goes away and I only get an email every six months; I'm okay with that because I'm not thinking we'll be best friends forever and ever or some crap like that. It's just hanging out while he's here."
"That's all?"
"Yes, that's it. There's nothing you need to worry about."
"All right, if you say so. I'll shut up about it."
"Finally. You're a worse nag than my mother."
"Hey, somebody's gotta babysit you."
"And god forbid he doesn't go down for his nap." Jared reappears, taking his seat once more, resting a hand on the back of Jensen's chair. Jensen is relieved to see that Jared doesn't seem to have heard anything significant from the prior conversation.
"Everything okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, she's gone. Had to threaten to call the police on her if she talked to me again. I almost feel bad… think I really scared her." He grimaces.
Mike shrugs it off. "Hey, if it keeps her off your back, then you gotta do what you gotta do."
"Yeah, I know. It just sucks ass. She's not the worst I've had to deal with, though. There was this guy once, back in L.A., man, I swear I woulda punched him right in the face if I didn't think I'd get arrested for it. It was outside this store-"
Jared continues his story, and Jensen listens attentively, knowing that Mike watches him the entire time.
* * * * *
Jensen's meager social life settles into a new routine after that, one where he finally isn't evading anyone. He bullies Mike into agreeing to a 'no talking about Jared' rule, which works for the most part and helps keep him sane. As for Jared, he maintains the same level of enthusiasm for re-earning Jensen's friendship, keeping Jensen's calendar more booked than it's ever been, dragging him to various places all across the state. Even when they don't have something planned, Jared's still prone to turning up at Jensen's door, or continuing with the onslaught of emoticon-filled text messages.
Jared even cons him into going to Six Flags for a day, pleading, but rollercoasters are awesome, which is how Jensen ends up sitting on a shady bench in sweltering heat, surrounded by packs of families rushing towards rides, and watching Jared struggle to eat increasingly sticky cotton candy.
Jared looks at his gummy, pink-tinged fingers with distaste and says, "Oh, by the way, I was talking to my mom yesterday and she wants you to come over for dinner sometime soon. She kept saying she hasn't talked to you in forever; I think she likes you better than me."
"Sure," Jensen says with a chuckle as Jared tries to wipe his fingers on a napkin only to have it stick to his hand.
"Oh, that's right, mock my pain." Jared pouts as he fights with the napkin, and Jensen keeps on laughing.
It isn't until the next morning, when Jensen gets a text that reads, dinner with the family on Sunday? that he remembers what he agreed to, and that he should, in fact, be freaking out right about now. Because if seeing Jared again the first few times was weird, talking to his parents always promises to be a world full of awkward, covered in uncomfortable, and with sprinkles of unpleasant on top. He's seen them several times over the years - hard not to, in a town the size of Goodson - and while they did speak to him and were outwardly polite, Jensen couldn't help but suspect that they spent each conversation silently accusing him of breaking their son's heart, a charge he couldn't really deny. And Jensen's not forgetting the fact that the whole situation is far too similar to a 'meet your boyfriend's parents' scenario for his liking, though it's one more complicated than most.
Jensen considers trying to get out of it, but he also knows that any attempt to do so will end up with Jared making all sorts of pathetic little faces, the kind that never fail to make him cave spectacularly to whatever Jared wants. Faced with that sure an outcome, Jensen resigns himself to his metaphorical doom and texts back, That's fine.
Sunday comes, hot and darkly cloudy, a thunderstorm threatening to roll in like the weather too agrees that nothing good can come from this. Jensen sits in his truck, parked in the Padaleckis' driveway, wondering how long he can put off going inside. The first fat raindrops hitting his windshield decide for him, though; a few more minutes in the car and it'll be coming down hard enough to thoroughly soak him on the way to the front door. Jensen grabs the cheesecake he bought at Walmart out of the passenger seat, opens the driver's door, and makes a dash for the house, only getting a little wet in the process.
Jared's at the door already when he reaches the front step, letting Jensen in from the quickly worsening storm. Jared shuts the door the moment he's inside and says, "You know, if you'd come in five minutes ago when you pulled in the driveway, you wouldn't have gotten stuck in the rain. You didn't have to hide in your car; my parents don't bite."
"Shut up," Jensen says, wiping his feet on the doormat and handing Jared his cake.
Jared takes the offered dessert and studies it for a moment. "You bought this at the grocery store, took it out of the container, and stuck it on a plate, didn't you?"
"What part of 'shut up' didn't you understand?"
"The part where you think it'll actually get me to stop talking. Anyway, I'm glad you brought something store-bought. I remember being stuck in middle school Home Ec. You baking is not an experience I wanna repeat."
"At least my food was more edible than yours," Jensen mutters. "Where're your parents?"
"Mom's roped dad into helping cook." Jared turns to call out, "Mom, Jensen's here!" He walks down the hall and through the doorway into the kitchen. "And he brought cheesecake!"
Jensen follows him into the kitchen. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki."
"Hello," Jared's father says from his place at the stove.
Jared's mother wipes her hands on a towel, and then turns to them. "Hello, Jensen. It's been so long since we've seen you." She comes closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a quick squeeze of a hug. It's not what Jensen was anticipating, to say the least, because there is no anger in her expression. No bitterness over how Jensen treated Jared, nothing but a seemingly genuine happiness to see him. He's not quite sure how to react. "How have you been?" she asks.
"Pretty good, Mrs. Padalecki. How about you?"
"We're doing well, thank you. We're glad to have Jared home, though I suspect he's ready to be rid of us by now."
"Your words, Mom, not mine," Jared says, setting down the dessert on the counter. "I'm getting free meals and laundry service out of this deal; I'm not complaining."
"You're not complaining much," she corrects. "Dinner won't be ready for a little while yet, I'm afraid. You still like lasagna, I hope?"
"Yeah, that sounds great. And thank you very much for inviting me."
"No need to thank us. You've always been welcome here." She goes back to what she was doing before Jensen came in, something involving a loaf of bread, and says over her shoulder, "Jared's been going through the boxes of his old things he left here. I think he's pulled out every school project you two ever did together."
"Not every one. I'm sure one or two got thrown away at some point," he says.
"My living room certainly looks like you've still got all of them. Why don't you go show Jensen some of the things you've dug out while your father and I finish up in here?"
"Sure," Jensen says, not exactly eager to see Jared's high school mementos, but definitely glad to have a reason to flee and figure out why Jared's parents haven't beheaded him yet.
They head into the living room, which is just as chaotic as Jared's mom said it would be. There are half-empty boxes and Rubbermaid tubs everywhere, their former contents strewn about the room like it all exploded from the containers. Otherwise, the room is pretty much the same as Jensen remembers it, with the same nearly full oak bookcase and the old rocking chair in the corner. If it weren't for the updated family photos on the mantelpiece, Jensen would barely believe any time had passed at all.
There's only one spot clear on the couch, so Jared grabs a box from the middle and sets it on the floor, saying, "Mom's making me go through all this and figure out what I can throw away and ship the rest home. I don't even remember what half of it actually is." He plops down on the cleared seat, and Jensen has no option but to sit next to him. "And see? I told you my parents wouldn't kill you."
"How did you-?"
"It was kinda obvious what you were thinking, man. You looked like a deer in headlights the entire time." He snickers. "But seriously, they're fine with it. They've always liked you."
"Good to know. So what've you got here?" Jensen gestures to the mess around them.
"I don't even know. I've forgotten what half this stuff even is." He pulls a box closer to his feet and roots around inside. "You should make yourself useful and find crap to trash."
Jensen looks at a box with distaste. "Can't you hire people to do this for you?"
"I am." Jared grins, a mischievous upturn at the corners of his mouth. "I pay you with the pleasure of my company."
"I don't think there's room enough in here for me and your ego. One of us is gonna have to go."
"You love it," he says. "You wouldn't have been hanging out with me these past few weeks if you didn't."
Jensen shakes his head in amused disbelief, but starts in on a box anyway, reaching to pull the nearest one closer. He opens the flaps to find a stack of old clothes, taking out the t-shirt at the top and holding it up for Jared to see. "This probably wouldn't even fit one of your arms anymore. I think this box is trash. What've you got?"
Jared laughs, and then digs further into his box, pulling out an old video camera. "Recognize this?" he asks, handing it to Jensen.
Jensen gently takes the camcorder, examining it with amazement. "You kept this?"
"It was my first camera, and you got it for me. 'Course I kept it. In my parents' attic, mind you, but yeah."
"Man, it took me forever to save up the cash for this. The look on your face when you opened it was worth it, though." Jensen turns the camera over in his hands, recalling that summer when he spent so many long, hot days working for his dad's landscaper friend. He obsessively checked ads for electronics stores, and each hour spent moving mulch and mowing lawns got him a few dollars closer to that perfect present.
"There are tapes in here, and I think there's a cord to plug it in. Wanna see if it still works?"
"Go for it," he says, and Jared smiles softly before he produces the cord out of the box. There's some shuffling around, moving an end table to get to an outlet, and then Jared is back on the sofa, camera in hand. He picks a tape out at random, pops it in, and hits the power button.
The attached screen is small, and Jensen leans closer to Jared to see more clearly as the tape begins to play. He's almost not surprised to see himself on the video, younger and grinning, leaning back comfortably in a lawn chair on a sunny day. Say hi to the camera, Jensen, Jared's voice comes from off-screen. Jensen's teenage self roll his eyes and waves.
"This is your eighteenth birthday," Jensen says. He remembers that day, all of Jared's family there for the party, how Jared had dug out the camera, his previous year's present, and chased him around the yard the entire time. How they'd laughed and touched and whispered dirty things in each other's ears when no one else was around. Even then, with separation looming, they were happy.
C'mon, the Jared on the tape says, you're being boring. Do something interesting.
Are you going to bug me until I do?
Probably. Jensen pulls a face at that, sticking his tongue out at the camera. Not interesting enough. I'm gonna be relying on this video when I'm sad and lonely all the way in California. Keep me entertained.
Your definition of entertained isn't exactly appropriate for in front of your family.
Jensen watches himself laugh carelessly as Jared's hand comes into the frame, grabbing his shirt and pulling him out of the chair. There's a dizzying whirl of motion onscreen, and then the camera is steady again, Jared holding it at an arm's length so that they're both in the shot, Jared just as joyful as Jensen, his other hand still clutching Jensen's shirt. They kiss for the camera then, a soft meeting of mouths, affectionate but light enough for public consumption.
Jensen can feel it, the memory's so vivid, can remember exactly what it was like to kiss Jared warm and easy on a hot summer day, like nothing around mattered but them. And here, right now, Jared is still sitting next to him, pressed close so they can both see the camera's small screen. Jared is not the skinny boy in the video; he is large and warm and solid at Jensen's side. But with Jared's face inches away, it feels like those years apart could practically vanish, and Jensen remembers what it's like to just turn his head and kiss.
Jared turns the camera off abruptly, shutting the screen closed, and Jensen startles, pulling away so that they're no longer sitting so dangerously near. He looks anywhere but at Jared, desperate for something, anything to say to take his mind from the path it has wandered down. Jensen finally toes at the box of video tapes and jokes, "I should steal these and put them up on eBay. I could make a fortune selling them as your earliest work."
"I don't think anyone would want our old Spanish class project videos. Now if you'd ever agreed to a sex tape, that would've make big bucks." Jared laughs, a nervous edge to the sound, like he knows he's skirting all the lines they've set up between each other. It's something Jared used to tease him about a lot, having sex with the camcorder rolling, and Jensen can recollect precisely how close he was to agreeing to it, caution be damned. He's sitting in Jared's parents' living room, thinking about kissing Jared, about sex with Jared, with no thought to all those promises he made to himself when he first said Jared could call him.
The silence is long, Jensen needing something, anything to say to change the topic, and it finally comes to him when he remembers the date. He asks, "It's your birthday Saturday, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Shit, I almost forgot. I'm sorry."
"That's okay, really. And it's not like you have to get me anything. I was gonna ask if you wanted to hit the bar that night, though."
"Sure, that sounds good." The bar is public, neutral, somewhere that Jensen won't get this growing panic of something trying to claw its way out of his heart.
"Cool," Jared says, setting the video camera back in its box. "Dinner's probably almost ready by now. You wanna check?" For the first time, Jensen notices the smell of cooking garlic filling the house, and his stomach rumbles. Jared chuckles. "C'mon, let's get you fed."
Despite Jensen's lingering nerves, and how confusing the whole evening has been, dinner passes comfortably. The food's great, and Jared's parents easily dodge any topic that could bring up the unpleasant portions of the past. Jensen knows that Jared watches him through most of the meal, but he forces himself not to shy away when their eyes meet across the table.
When Jensen thanks them and stands to leave, Jared's father shakes his hand in a firm grip, and his mother gives him another hug, whispering to him, "We're really glad that Jared's had you as a friend these past few weeks. Thank you." Just another thing Jensen doesn't know how to answer.
Jared follows him to the door, rambling the whole time. "Thanks for coming, Jensen; Mom and Dad really appreciate it. I hope you had a good time. I'll call you about Saturday sometime later, okay?"
"Thank you for inviting me, yes I did, and I'll talk to you later," Jensen says before heading out through the rain and to his truck. He gets inside and pulls out of the driveway as quickly as he can.
Two weeks. Less than, really, until Jared leaves for California again. Whatever just happened between them, Jensen only has to hold out for twelve days.
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