CW RPS: Take the Sky, For Example (A Canvas of a Billion Suns) (J2, R // 2/6)
Take the Sky, For Example (A Canvas of a Billion Suns)
Full header in MASTER POST.
part one
Sophia spends the better part of an hour grilling Jensen about Jared. How'd you guys meet? Is he cool? Is he pretty? What circuit shorted out in your brain and made you think that it was a good idea to move in with a total stranger? He's really fucking hot, isn't he? Are you two hooking up? Are you doing it at midnight underneath the window of a certain cheating asshole who shall remain unnamed?
After he leaves Sophia with his new address, Jensen phones Danneel and invites her too. Maybe she and Sophia can work it out, maybe not; either way, he wants Danni there. He's really grateful to her.
When Danneel tells him that she'll find a babysitter, Jensen almost tells her to bring Dashel along. Then he remembers the booze that Jared said Chad was bringing and, really, the last thing he needs is his favourite student spreading rumours about his torrid home life around the classroom. So instead he smiles and nods into the receiver and Danneel excitedly informs him that she'll definitely be there, fashionably fifteen minutes late, and she can't wait to see his new place.
It turns out that he needs that extra time. He gets home at five, just half an hour before the party is due to start, arms piled high with some "necessities" that Jared begged him for. It's mostly stupid things like chips and dip and a really delicious-looking cheesecake, but Jared also requested a rather ridiculous amount of tin foil. When Jensen ambles in the doorway, vision almost completely obscured by the fruits of his labour, Jared leaps out of nowhere and takes the bags in his octopus-arms, setting them down on the kitchen counter with a flourish.
"Where is it, where is it?" Jared says, sifting past the food. "God, you took for-fucking-ever, man! I hope I have time…"
Greetings are obviously overrated, grumps Jensen, tired from a long day. Aloud, he says, "Time for what?"
"To make my decorations!" Jared answers, voice muffled by plastic bags. A moment later, he resurfaces with three rolls of foil. "A-ha!"
Bemused, Jensen watches Jared scurry into his bedroom. He shrugs it off and begins to unpack the groceries. "This might be sort of a small thing," he calls to the open door over his shoulder. "I only asked two people."
Jared pokes his head out into the hall. "That's fine," he chirps. "I asked enough for the both of us."
Jensen's stomach begins to sink. "How many-?"
"Well, let's see. I talked to Chad, Rosey and his boy, Justin, Milo-wait, he's not coming-uh, Jeff… so that's, what, five? If you want, you can ask Misha. I know how much you like him."
Jensen sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "Eight people doesn't allow for much breathing room," he says, only half joking.
"Aw, lighten up, Jenny." Jared strolls by with a half-formed aluminium disco ball and gives Jensen's hip a playful bump. "Now go ask Misha if he wants to join us. You know how I feel about the guy; I'm doin' you a real favour. You might even get laid tonight, if you're lucky."
Jensen means to roll his eyes, but when Jared winks at him, his stomach does a weird little flip-thing instead, whisking the exasperation right out of him. Jensen smoothes his shirt down self-consciously and tries to dismiss the strange feeling. It must be the coffee from earlier acting up.
Jared's eyebrows hook in a confused curve. "You okay?"
Jensen flushes, feeling badly thrown-caught out, almost; red-handed-and has to turn away. "I'm good," he mutters, halfway out the door. "I'm going to. Uh. Misha."
"What's that? You're going to do Misha?" Jared calls after him. Jensen can hear him cackling all the way down the stairs, and he thinks maybe his eyes are still rolled up in his head when he knocks on Misha's door, because the look that Misha gives him upon answering it can only be described as startled. It's quickly masked with a slightly awkward smile.
"Hey," Misha says. He's wearing faded grey sweatpants and a loose-necked t-shirt that looks like it's gone through the wash a few too many times. His medallions are absent, and his hair is wet and flopping over his forehead. He looks good.
"Um, hi." Jensen gives a stupid little finger-wave that he regrets a second later, when Misha's face twists in something much closer to amusement. "Jared and I are having a housewarming party tonight. Five-thirty. Sorry about the short notice, but, uh. Do you want to come?"
As if surprised by the invite, Misha just blinks at him for a moment. Then he nods jerkily and Jensen spots what could be a light blush on his face, but the hallway is dark and there's no real way of knowing. Either way, Jensen's job is done and he steps back-only to trip over the uneven flooring and fall flat on his ass. Impact leaves him a little dazed, and there's a second or two of stunned silence before he grumbles under his breath, "Smooth, Jensen," and hears a cut-off little noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter. He looks up and Misha is leaning against the doorframe, hiding a wide grin behind his hand.
"Sorry," he says at Jensen's scowl, chuckling, and bends over to help him up. "I shouldn't laugh."
Jensen brushes dirt off the seat off his pants and shakes his head. "No, it's fine," he says to his feet, because now he's blushing a little. This just isn't his day. He runs a hand through his hair and shifts from foot to foot. "So that was a yes?"
"I'll be there," Misha says, and when Jensen turns to leave this time, it's a little awkward but he doesn't fall over again, so he counts it as a win. Misha is still standing in the open doorway, staring up at him, when Jensen glances over his shoulder at the top of the stairs.
-
By the time people start streaming into their tiny apartment, Jared has coated the walls, appliances, and food in foil. His rather misshapen disco ball is hanging from the ceiling, and he's blasting Huey Lewis and the News from his iPod. Two of Jared's friends-Jared introduced them as Welling and Rosenbaum, and Jensen can only hope those are last names-are bouncing on the sunken-in couch, jamming out to The Power of Love.
They seem like nice guys. Welling is tall, only marginally shorter than Jared, and pretty enough to be a model, with bright eyes half-hidden under artfully tousled dark hair. He appears to be an intelligent enough dude, quick to smile if slow to talk. Rosenbaum seems sort of crazy, if Jensen's honest. His head is shaved completely bald and he's wearing this light pink, open-necked sweater that is gayer than most of even Jared's attire. And Jared thinks that wearing polos with bright pink floral patterns on them is a-okay.
Aside from that, Rosenbaum-though as the night goes on and more beer is ingested, 'Rosenbaum' becomes 'Rosey'-is cool; a little loud and boisterous, not unlike Jared, but good at heart.
Jeff is next to arrive, sporting a full beard, a bright smile, and his dog. "Couldn't find a sitter," Jensen overhears him saying to Jared, "but I didn't want to leave her all alone. That all right with you?"
"Of course!" Jared near-squeals, dropping to his knees to give Bisou a rough scratch about the ears. He's in full-blown baby-talk mode when a new arrival bursts in, arms laden with a box full of beer. It's Chad, of course, and he's just as blond and squinty-eyed as Jared said he would be.
"Jay-dog!" he roars, depositing the booze on the fold-away dining table and whirling on Jared. "How's it hangin', man?"
"A little to the left," Jared answers without missing a beat, rising to his feet, and judging how they howl with laughter and slap hands, this isn't a new joke. Jared's whole face is swallowed up by his grin, and Jensen only realises he's been staring when Jared turns towards him, smiles wider, and pulls Chad over. "C'mon, man," he says, over his shoulder, "I want you to meet Jensen."
Jensen watches them cross the room and sees in his face just what kind of friend Chad is. This is not a friendly introduction and there will be no manly chest-bumping here; this is an evaluation. Suddenly stupidly nervous, Jensen tries to subtly tweak his hair to perfection and brush imaginary lint from his clothes. He's been sized up before; he can do this. Hopefully.
"Jensen, this is my buddy Chad," Jared says, beaming at the both of them as he tugs Chad forward. "Chad, Jensen."
"Uh, hi." Jensen tries at a smile, hoping it doesn't broadcast his nervousness for the world to see, and extends an open palm. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Same," Chad says, taking Jensen's hand and giving it a half-hearted, fishlike shake. He leans in, so close that Jensen can see his patchy blond stubble a little too clearly, and lowers his voice to a whisper. "I just want to know one thing, and I want the truth. Do you or do you not have purely platonic interest in my boy here? Because I can't have you trying to pursue sexual relations with him. He's told me what the story is, and I want to make it super clear that he's just faking it, all right, and he has a girlfriend, okay-"
Jensen puts up his hands in surrender and takes a large step back. "Whoa, okay. No, I don't have any- I don't want anything like that." He frowns. "Has he told you that I-?"
Chad colours slightly, but before he has the chance to answer, Jared grabs him by the collar and hauls him backward. "Chad, shut up," he groans, looking sheepish. There are two streaks of red across his cheekbones. At Jensen's expectant look, though, he only shrugs. "Sometimes Chad takes the things I say offhand and just runs with them, you know? I don't. I mean, I didn't think."
Jensen crosses his arms over his chest and snaps, "Bedroom. Now."
Jared trails towards his room like a kicked puppy, and even though Jensen had been picturing his own room, he stomps after Jared. They're only supposed to have one, after all. The last thing he sees is Jeff's raised eyebrows, his expression caught between concerned and something much more suggestive, before Jensen shuts the door and whirls on Jared. "What exactly did you tell Chad?"
Jared winces and scuffs his flipflop into the carpet. "It was just a stupid joke." When he doesn't clarify, Jensen arches an eyebrow and Jared shrugs, says in a rush, "I told him that you were, uh, forcing me to be your sex slave in lieu of paying rent, and that's how come you allowed me to stay here." He gives an awkward, toothy smile. "He bought right into it. Funny, right?"
Jensen's sort of surprised at Jared's honesty, but annoyance overrides it. "Hilarious," he mutters, looking away and rubbing at his temples. He doesn't have the heart to be too pissed off, though. It was a harmless joke that Chad, not Jared, took too far. He turns back to Jared and waves a dismissive hand. "Forget it. Let's go-"
"Not yet," says Jared, smiling. He looks relieved.
Jensen arches an eyebrow and Jared dives forward, burying his huge hands in Jensen's hair and completely wrecking it. He pulls and tugs and twists until Jensen actually shoves him off, at which point Jared, still grinning, undoes his shirt just to button it up wrong. "You said, 'Bedroom, now,' and you looked all growly and shit," he says at Jensen's confused look. "C'mon. You were obviously dragging me in here to have your way with me. Do you really want to let that opportunity pass by?"
Of course, when Jared and Jensen come out of the bedroom, Misha's standing in the front doorway, clean shaven and hair relatively tamed. He's wearing dress pants, narrow shoulders swallowed up by a charcoal grey suit jacket, and looks pitifully out of place surrounded by t-shirts and jeans.
Embarrassed, Jensen runs a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to return it to normal. Judging by how Misha's eyes are drawn to it, he only makes it worse. Jared gives him a manly pat on the shoulder and shoves him in Misha's direction, but before Jensen has the chance to say hi, Misha says, "I overdressed. Damn it."
He doesn't look nervous or frustrated, though; just a little lost. Jensen assures him otherwise, gives him a beer, and directs him to the couch, where Jeff immediately engages him in conversation. Misha's eyes are still on Jensen when he turns away to greet Danneel, who bounces in the door and gives him a wide smile. Her auburn hair shines in the dim light.
"Jen, hey," she says, enveloping him in a tight, brief hug. "How are you, babe?"
"Good," he says, and he's surprised to realise that it's sort of true. It's only been two weeks since he met Jared, but. Jensen glances back at his new roommate, chatting animatedly with Welling, and realises he likes the guy. Jared is perky and talkative and a little overwhelming, but he's nice and different and- and it's refreshing. Jensen can only hope it stays that way.
He turns back to Danneel, whose whole face lights up at the sight of his smile. "That's great," she says, quietly, like she's telling him a secret. She rubs his shoulder and opens her mouth to say something else when someone crashes across the threshold behind her, propelling her into Jensen.
It's Sophia. She's loud, her hair a bit wild, looking a little drunk already. Hanging desperately onto her hand is a short, pretty girl Jensen thinks he recognises, but he isn't sure until Sophia crows, "Jenny! Hey there, Jenny-baby. This is my friend- my friend Sandraaaa. You remember her, right?"
"It's Sandy," the girl says. "We met at Soph's birthday bash last year. It's okay if you don't remember," and she smiles, too bright, and pushes her hair away from her forehead. She's dressed all in pink and hasn't let go of Sophia's hand.
Jensen smiles and shakes her hand, reintroduces himself, but then his eyes snag on Danneel and his stomach drops to his toes. Danneel is staring at Sophia and Sandy's linked hands like it's the end of the world, like it's the very worst thing she's ever seen, and Jensen feels a little sick. Once Sophia and Sandy have gone for the beer, Jensen grabs Danneel and tugs her into his bedroom.
"Nice digs," she says, looking around, but she won't meet his eyes and there's no way she doesn't know why he dragged her in here.
"Danni," Jensen says, sitting her down on the broad white palette of his bed. "Do you. I mean. You know that, um, Sophia's straight, don't you? So," and he's beginning to ramble, desperately hoping he hasn't read Danneel wrong, "that means she's definitely not with Sandy, but it also. It also sort of-that is, uh, if you like her-"
Jensen is starting to regret the two beers Jared shoved at him, because Danneel is looking at him with an expression he can't possibly begin to decipher. He could never hold his liquor, and coupled with his apparent inability to speak, this looks like it's about to head abruptly south.
"Straight," Danneel repeats, and her mouth twists in a wry smile. "Okay. Thanks for the talk, Jen."
Then she stands and strides right out the door, leaving Jensen staring dumbly after her. By the time he returns to the party, Jared's other friend has shown up, Sophia and Chad are looking real chatty in the corner, and Sandy is hanging off of every word Jared's saying. And, from what Jensen overhears, Jared is talking about Bisou's fleas. This girl is desperate, Jensen thinks, and the meanness of the thought sort of surprises him. He dismisses it, scolding himself.
With Sophia otherwise occupied-she and Chad are nearly nose-to-nose on Jared's beanbag-and Danneel more intent on her beer than talking to Jensen (or talking at all), Jensen plunks himself down next to Misha and Jeff. Bisou is wagging her tail between Jeff's legs.
"Jensen!" Jeff says, smiling warmly and clapping him on the back with the hand that isn't palming Bisou's head. Jensen is instantly reminded of how much he likes the guy. "Misha was just telling me about the exhibition his friend is putting on at the Brownstone Gallery. It's a tribute to-what'd you call it? Dee… Brook?"
"Die Brücke," supplies Misha.
"I work at Brownstone," Jensen says. "I teach classes in the building behind the gallery."
"That's right," Jeff says, rubbing at Bisou's ears. She whines happily and noses his knee. "I guess you've seen Misha's friend around then."
Jensen thinks hard, but the only stranger he's seen around is an attractive, scruffy-looking guy lurking around the director's office and in the unused rooms of the gallery. Guess that kind of fits the bill. "Tall guy?" Jensen asks. "Um. Brown hair? Likes to wear sweater vests?"
"That's Michael," Misha says, nodding. He shifts in his seat and adds, "He's my ex."
There's something subdued, withdrawn, in the way he says it, like it's a wound that's still tender. Jensen wonders when they broke up; instead of asking, he gives Misha a manly yet comforting pat on the shoulder. "Maybe I'll drop by," he says. "When's it opening?"
"Next week. I'll come with you and we can grab lunch after?" Misha looks hopeful and Jensen can't say no.
He has a split second to wonder if it sounds like a date-to Jeff, to Misha, to himself-before Jared wanders over and falls into Jensen's lap. He's obviously drunk, red-faced, slow, and grins up at Jensen blindingly. Jensen's smiling back before he realises it, everything else forgotten.
Jeff chuckles. "You're so cute," he teases, rising to his feet. He eyeballs Jared for a second longer. "Looks like you better cut this one off. Actually, Jensen," and Jeff winks, of all things, "you might need to take him to bed."
Jensen colours and Jeff laughs outright, booming and contagious. "Thanks for the company, boys," he says, winding his hand in Bisou's lead, "but I'm gonna go. Bisou needs a walk. Have a good night!"
After Jeff walks out, it's like the floodgates open and everybody realises they've somewhere to be. Danneel slips out without letting anybody know, and Jensen only realises she's gone when the apartment is all but empty. Half an hour earlier, Welling and Rosenbaum went from dancing to eighties rock to necking on top of the kitchen counter; they run out a few moments later, after a quick goodbye to Jared. Justin, Jared's other friend, follows them with a sigh. 'Designated driver,' he mouths.
Sandy and Sophia leave twenty minutes later, once Sandy has stopped making moony eyes at Jared and Chad is too drunk to have coherent conversation with Sophia. Jensen says goodbye from the couch, half-finished third beer in hand. He feels stupid and loopy and that must be why he hasn't shoved Jared off his lap yet. Chad is giving him the evil eye from the beanbag.
Jensen shakes his head and looks away, resting his hand unthinkingly on Jared's head. He absently smoothes Jared's fringe back off his forehead and Misha jumps up like he's been shot.
"I'm gonna go," he says quickly, not looking at Jensen and Jared. "Got an early start in the morning."
Jensen wants to tell him to stay, that they were having good, intelligent conversation of the kind that is hard to come by in Jensen's group of friends, but by the time he opens his mouth Misha is out the door. So he just raises his hand in a belated wave. "Should've stopped at two beers," he chastises himself.
Jared giggles. Doesn't laugh or chortle or something, but actually giggles. It makes Jensen giggle, and then Jared squints at him and whispers, "I want to tell you something," too soft for Chad to hear.
Jensen's heart does a ridiculous thing and speeds up. It's the beer. "What?"
Jared shuts his mouth with a snap, eyes darting around like someone might be spying on them, and then says, loud and proud, "That Sandy girl gave me her number. She totally wants me."
A big breath escapes Jensen with an embarrassing whoosh. He relaxes against the cushions, relieved but feeling at the same time like he missed out on something. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Well, obviously I'm not going to call her," Jared says, rolling his eyes. Then he rolls his body off of Jensen and onto the floor. "Ouf," he says into the carpet. "Chad, get out."
"Lemme crash on your couch," Chad whines. "I'm too drunk. I'm- I can't drive. I'll drive off the road and crash, Jay. You don't even understand. I'll drive into the sea."
"We're nowhere near the sea," Jensen points out mildly. Or maybe not so mildly, because Chad shoots him a vicious glare. Jensen hopes he didn't insult Chad's mother instead. That happens sometimes when Jensen has had a few.
"Fine, you can stay, you stupid fucker," Jared says to Chad, still face down.
Wordlessly, Jensen stumbles off the sofa and towards his bedroom, leaving Jared to get Chad a pillow and some blankets. It's maybe not the smartest idea, judging by how Jared can't even stand, but Jensen doesn't really care. He's focussed on how Jeff cooed at them, on Misha's eagerness to leave-on how he and Jared apparently make a convincing couple.
In his drunken haze, it doesn't trouble Jensen as much as he would've thought.
That's what's troubling.
-
The next morning, Jensen only has a vague memory of the previous night's proceedings. A week later, the fuzzy details have vanished as well. Jensen has no problem with that. He's stupid when he's drunk-he thinks about stupid things, says stupid things, does stupid things. It's always the same and judging by how Misha keeps shooting him these sort of sad sideways looks, this time was no exception.
"So," Jensen says, uncomfortable. They're standing in front of one of Misha's ex's paintings, and it's. It's really not bad. Jensen sort of likes it. "He's good."
Misha stares blankly at the girl, naked and tilted forward, staring at him from the canvas. "Yep. He's got a thing for Kirchner," he says finally. He keeps looking over his shoulder, like he's waiting for someone to sneak up on him. "I always thought this was his best work."
"You never told me that," says a voice from behind them. Jensen turns and it's the scruffy-looking guy-the artist. Michael Weatherly, Misha said his name was. He's a little taller than Jensen, but older, unshaven, dark hair spiked upwards. His stubbled cheeks dimple in a fake-looking smile.
"Michael," Misha says, but he doesn't look happy about it. "How are you?"
"Is this your new boyfriend?" Michael says in lieu of a response, sneering. Before Misha can say anything, Michael says to Jensen, "I'd watch out for this one, pal. He's a bit of an asshole once you get past that 'I'm awkward and weird' thing."
Jensen's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Um," he says.
Misha's face is red, but whether it's with anger or embarrassment is hard to tell. Without a word, he takes Jensen by the elbow and steers him away. "What a dick," he says emphatically once they're out of hearing range, out of the gallery itself, and it's the most emotional Jensen's ever seen him. He keeps running his fingers through his hair, tugging it into even more impressive shapes, and he's running a rut in the pavement with his pacing. "God. Fuck. Sorry about him."
"Not a happy breakup?" Jensen says, sitting down on a nearby bench. After a moment of hesitation, Misha joins him, shaking his head.
"You could say that," he says dryly, and doesn't elaborate. Jensen doesn't ask him to, and they sit in companionable silence until Jensen's stomach growls, loud and obnoxious. Then Misha starts to laugh, baring his teeth in a wide smile. "I guess we should go grab that lunch. My treat."
Jensen tries to protest, but Misha waves him away. "I insist," he says, nudging Jensen into a nearby restaurant, and Jensen gives up. Misha leads them to a small table in the back and orders what he touts as the best food on the menu for them both. Jensen lets him, caught up in the entire scene. It's only when their food-lobster, for Christ's sake, at one o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon-arrives that Jensen clears his throat quietly and asks, "What are you doing?"
Misha pauses, fork raised halfway to his mouth. "Eating," he says, a little unsure all of a sudden. Jensen can see him sinking back into his shyer persona, shedding the dry, sarcastic Misha that Jensen got to know today.
"This," Jensen says anyway, gesturing to their candlelit corner. "The, uh. Lobster."
Misha says, "I don't know what you're talking about," but Jensen can see that he definitely does. So Jensen just gives him a no-bullshit stare until Misha sighs and puts down his utensils. "There's one thing you should know," he says. "I'm not hitting on you."
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, I am," Misha says with a sigh, throwing up his arms. "You caught me. But. I know you have Jared, and I. Well." He shrugs, seeming abashed. "You guys seem happy."
"Yeah," Jensen mumbles, picking at his food. He isn't hungry anymore.
Either Misha's psychic or his appetite has similarly vanished, because after a moment he rubs his neck and says, "You know, I'm not really a lobster person. Maybe we should go."
"Yeah."
"I'm still picking up the tab, though," Misha says, before Jensen even thinks of that. He has his wallet out in record time, but Jensen wrestles him into splitting it. By the time they exit the restaurant, they're okay again, deep into a discussion on art and city life; Misha's all smiles, back to not so much cracking jokes constantly as slipping snarky little jibes into the conversation so subtly Jensen doesn't even notice that his taste in artists has been insulted until five minutes later.
-
It's three weeks later when Jensen and Jared begin to find equilibrium. Jensen gets used to (and begins to secretly enjoy) Jared's unrepentant enthusiasm and numerous similarities to small children; Jared comes to terms with Jensen's occasional bouts with crankiness and finds his own ways to draw out smiles. They quit squabbling over who gets the bathroom first thing in the morning-though most days this isn't a problem, as Jensen is up at least three hours before Jared, who usually doesn't rise until after noon-and they work out a roster for menial household tasks. Jensen's heart still occasionally acts up, skipping beats or pumping double-time or something equally strange, when Jared does something goofy, but it's getting better.
Or worse. It's hard to tell.
Either way, it's not a great way to start a morning. When Jared bounds into Jensen's room at quarter to seven on a Saturday-without knocking, no less-and pounces on him, straddling his hips with a knee on either side, Jensen startles awake and has to fight the impending freak-out with all his might. His heart is beating a mile a minute; it's taking all of his strength not to thrash and buck and wriggle until Jared goes over the side of his bed. But he does it. He forces his body to remain still, regulates his breathing, and opens his eyes to a blindingly white smile.
"Good morning, Jared," he says, a little ragged. "No, I'm not particularly enjoying the feeling of being crushed, thanks for asking."
Jared cocks his head as if he's confused, looking very much like a dog. "Don't lie to me," he says, still grinning. "Guess what!"
Jensen groans and twists his head to the side, trying to find his clock. "What time is it?"
"Seven o'clock or something," Jared says happily. "Now guess!"
Jensen can't think of a single reason Jared would be up before him. Defeated, he sags against his pillows and says dutifully, "What?"
Jared jumps up and down and possibly crushes Jensen's small intestine. It's not fun. "I'm going to an audition today," he says. "For this really cool show where the main character is a ghost. Who is going to be me for sure. Awesome, huh?"
"Awesome," Jensen echoes, and smiles just to see Jared beam back at him. And yeah, Jared's ego is overly inflated because he was in a couple of commercials a few years back and starred in a pilot that ended up never airing, but Jensen doesn't mind when Jared rambles about it because he's so happy, so sure that it's what he wants to do. And Jensen hopes, he really does, that Jared does make it big someday. Whether it's going to be thanks to this particular show, Jensen can't say.
What he does say is, "That's really cool, man, and I hope it goes well, but can you please get off now?"
Jared climbs off him obediently and stands, rocking on the balls of his feet, over Jensen's bed. "I've got a good feeling about this one, man," he says. "I really do." His smile falters a little bit. "But I, um. I'm really fucking nervous. What if I suck?"
Jensen rubs at his eyes and sits up sleepily, tiredness preventing him from boggling at the total one-eighty. His room feels too hot, but he really wants to put on a shirt anyway. "You'll be fine," he says around a yawn. "You're good, Jared. Don't stress out. I saw that, uh, McDonald's commercial. You rocked that."
Jared goes a little pink. It's sort of adorable. "I'm lovin' it," he says. He dawdles at Jensen's bedside for a moment before checking his phone and backing towards the door. "I. I gotta go," he says. "I have to be there in fifteen."
"Good luck."
Jared smiles at him and shuts the door. Jensen flops back against the mattress and tries really hard to get back to sleep, but it's a lost cause. He's too nervous.
-
Jensen knows from the way the door shuts that it didn't go well. He's sitting on his bed, applying the finishing touches to the mural he painted on his wall the week before, and he hears the front door slam. It feels like it shakes the foundations and Jensen is up and running into the living room in an instant, brushes left behind.
Jared is slumped in front of the open fridge, one big hand wrapped around a carton of milk. He's staring blankly at a wedge of cheese on the first shelf. "Bombed it," Jared says before Jensen can say anything. "Absolutely fucking sucked."
Jensen doesn't really know what to do. He steps forward to touch Jared's arm, maybe, but instead Jared drops the milk and whirls around, launching himself forward. He wraps his arms around Jensen, hauling him in so Jensen's face is crushed against Jared's neck, and doesn't let go. It's not the first time he's hugged Jensen-he seems to do it all the time, as a hello and goodbye and anything in between-but this time it really feels like it means something. Jensen slowly lifts his arms and hugs back, and Jared clutches him a little tighter.
"I hate everything," Jared says a moment later, into Jensen's shoulder.
Jensen pulls back. Bites his lip, wonders for a second if he's going to regret it later, then blurts out, "Do you still want to get a dog?"
Jared blinks at him. "Huh?"
Jensen scratches the back of his neck. "Well," he mumbles, "when we first moved in, you wouldn't shut up about-um. You really wanted a dog. Right?"
Jared stares at him for a moment longer before breaking into a smile. "Jensen," he says softly. He's still holding on, hands dwarfing the knobs of Jensen's shoulders.
"I made an appointment at the pound," Jensen says. "For tomorrow."
Jared's eyes widen and then his expression goes soft, mouth a little slack with surprise. "You didn't have to."
Jensen shrugs and scuffs the toe of his shoe into the carpet. "I wanted to," he says to the floor. His cheeks are red; he can feel it. "It wasn't. I didn't. I just- like dogs."
"We're not getting some yappy little terrier," Jared says. There's a grin in his voice and Jensen looks up, pulling a disgusted face instead of thanking him for not pushing the subject. The mood lifts.
"No way," Jensen says, cutting one hand across his throat. "Icky was enough to last me the rest of my life."
"Icky?"
"Icarus. Danneel's dog. Tiny cranky bastard."
Jared laughs. It's a big laugh, straight from the belly. He throws his head back and guffaws, and suddenly Jensen's laughing too. Jared looks down at Jensen and his eyes are glittering. He slides his hands over, thumbs brushing dry and warm right at the place where Jensen's neck meets his shoulder. It's an intimate, gentle touch, weirdly so, and when Jared doesn't say anything, doesn't move, Jensen's heart starts to go funny. He can taste his nervousness in his mouth-Jared's so close, and just looking.
Jensen's sure that he only blinks, but the moment is broken anyway and Jared jumps back like he was electrocuted. He pats his hands down on his jeans, looking thrown, a little pale. He clears his throat and says thickly, "So."
"So," Jensen repeats. His heartbeat is gradually slowing down. He draws in a quiet breath and scratches the back of his head. "Tomorrow."
"I can't wait." Jared's discomfort winks out of existence, replaced by a bright smile. He bounces to the door. "Come on. Let me treat you to lunch."
Jensen almost says no, but Jared's hopeful grin has him reaching for his coat with barely a thought. Later, when Jared whispers, "Thank you," over a deluxe cheeseburger and large fries, Jensen has no idea how to respond to the emotion in Jared's voice, so he just jams another forkful of lettuce into his mouth and rubs feverishly at the warmth rising in his cheeks.
-
The dog is named Sadie. Jensen thinks she looks sort of like a dingo, all sad brown eyes and big stick-up ears. The woman showing them around the pound is rambling on, something about a shepherd mix, but Jensen's not really listening. Jared is on his knees in front of her kennel, hands fisted in the metal coils. He's making these stupid noises and twisting his face into the weirdest expressions, and Sadie is just staring at him. She seems sort of wary, snuffling and pawing at her ratty bed.
They haven't been there more than five minutes. Sadie is the first dog they've seen, but Jared seems to have made his decision. He rockets to his feet and whirls, beaming, on Jensen. "This is the one," he announces, confirming Jensen's suspicions. Sadie woofs.
Jensen turns to the woman, shrugs, and smiles. "This is the one," he repeats.
Jared starts doting on Sadie the moment they pile her in the backseat of Jensen's truck. Amused, Jensen opts to stay in the car while Jared blows his entire pay check at a pet store, buying a ridiculous pink collar and leash set, a food bowl and some dry dog food, and a fancy-looking bed. It's high-quality stuff, Jensen observes, rolling the bag of kibble in one hand as he scratches Sadie behind the ears with the other. She's taking to her new owners pretty well, howling happily as Jared whoops and stuffs her things in the trunk, so excited he's jumping with it. Yesterday's disappointment has completely left him; it's like there's nothing that could possibly bring him down.
Jeff is waiting on the stoop when they get back to the apartment. His hand is wrapped in Bisou's collar and he beams when Sadie drags Jensen forward, straining at her brand-new leash. "Look at you, gorgeous," he coos, and Jensen is flattered and a little weirded out for a split-second before Jeff drops to his knees in front of Sadie. He glances up at Jensen and smiles. "Good choice. What a pretty girl…"
Jeff loses himself in la-la land and Jensen turns back to help Jared cart the shopping in.
"Her previous owners already had her spayed," Jared says once Jensen is within earshot. He passes the dog bed to Jensen and stocks his own arms high with food, looking thoughtful. "But we'll have to take her to get her shots…" Jared stares at where Jeff has a lax hold on Sadie's leash as she and Bisou circle around each other. He smiles, wide and without looking at Jensen, and then says, quiet, "I lied to you."
Jensen freezes mid-step, nearly tripping over the curb. He loses his grip on the bed in his haste to turn back to Jared. "Huh?"
Jared smiles at him awkwardly, looking nervous. The world seems to narrow itself down to just them, Jensen and Jared standing in front of a beat-up truck in front of a worn-down apartment building, and Jensen for an instant allows himself to think of all the things Jared could possibly say next. I rocked that audition, I hate dogs, I don't have a girlfriend, I'm gay and I-
Jensen shakes his head, clearing it before his scenarios could take a weirder turn, and says, "What about?"
Jared doesn't say anything, just shifts uncomfortably and glances back at Jeff, who suddenly remembers he has somewhere to be. "If you guys ever need a dog-sitter, let me know," he says, and excuses himself and Bisou with an apologetic smile.
Sadie isn't going anywhere, waiting happily by the front door, so Jensen turns away to pick her bed off the ground and Jared all of a sudden blurts out, "You know when we first met, I said that my friends kicked me out?"
Jensen straightens up. "Yes?"
Jared licks his lips self-consciously. "Well, I really, uh. What I really meant was that I moved out of my dorm."
"Your dorm?" Jensen's not following. "Jared, why are you telling me this?"
"Because I feel bad about it," Jared says in a rush. "You go out and do this really nice thing for me, and I haven't even been completely honest with you." Guilt is radiating off him; Jensen maybe would have hugged him if it wasn't for all the shit in Jared's arms. The lying didn't help, either. "I dropped out. Of UCLA. It got too hard and I couldn't deal with it, and it wasn't what I wanted to be doing, and." He clears his throat. "Yeah."
"Oh," Jensen says, because he doesn't really know what else to say. Jared's staring at him, eyes wide he like expects Jensen to freak out or hit him or kick him out.
"It's just that you're so smart," Jared rambles before Jensen can say anything more. "Like. You talk about art and you just sound like a fucking genius, and I. I didn't even take art in high school. Ivy League education practically oozes off you, man. I know I'm not an idiot, but I feel so…" He makes a frustrated noise, twisting up his mouth, and shrugs. "You scare me a little bit, okay," he says, and finally smiles a bit, looking somewhat terrified, as though Jensen will confirm his fears and leave it at that.
Jensen's mouth moves over half-formed thoughts; his shrug is jerky and wild, jostling the load in his arms. "Jared," he says, and maybe his exasperation bleeds into his voice a bit, "I don't care what kind of education you have. You could've never gotten past the seventh grade and I still wouldn't care." He shoves at Jared's shoulder, rolling his eyes. "You're a good guy, and you still would be even if you were dumb as a rock. Which you're definitely not."
Jared shrugs. "Misha's smart. You like Misha. I thought you liked intellectual guys." His face colours and he laughs. "Wow, that came out wrong."
Jensen laughs too, but it's strained. For a second there, it sounded like Jared was trying to ask him out. That was weird, Jensen tells his brain, but there's a disappointed flurry in his chest that burns at the lies he's telling himself.
"Let's go inside," Jensen says, too loud; loud enough to drown out the nagging voices in his head, to distract himself. He marches upstairs, Sadie trailing after him. Eventually Jared joins them, throwing all of Sadie's crap onto the couch and announcing, "Okay, let's dog-proof this place!"
Sadie seems content to curl up on the sofa and observe her new home. She woofs in pleasure when Jensen tosses her a treat from the kitchen.
"You'll spoil her," Jared scolds him, but he's grinning. All the tension from earlier is gone, and after a moment, he adds, "Hey, since you're in such a charitable mood today, I was wondering if, um." He's blushing, hesitant, but Jensen waves him on. "Well, see, it's been a while since I saw Adrianne."
Ah, Adrianne. The girlfriend. Jensen had to know this was coming eventually. Still, it hits him weird, like a punch in the gut, leaving him strangely breathless. His voice seems to have left him, so he just nods.
Jared shifts from foot to foot. "Well, she asked, and I was wondering if she could stay with us for a few days next week. I just miss her, you know?" He grins, wide and white, at the thought of her, so damn happy Jensen thinks dryly that the sun must shine out of her perfect ass.
Jensen turns back to scrubbing the pot that Jared used to burn last night's dinner to a crisp. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"
Jared hops up on the counter. "Aw, come on." He makes big gooey puppy-dog eyes at Jensen, who stares resolutely at the burned-black flakes swirling down the drain. "We'll keep it on the DL, I promise."
Jensen sighs and looks up at Jared. It's a mistake, because Jared clasps his hands together over his heart and leans towards Jensen beseechingly, whining, "Pleeeeeeaaase?"
Of course Jensen says yes. Jared whoops so loud half of Los Angeles probably hears and dances around the kitchen. He puts on Huey Lewis again, Back In Time, and jams with Sadie until Jensen can't take it anymore and discreetly begins to shuffle-dance with his spatulas and strainers.
-
Adrianne flies into LAX the following Saturday and Jensen knows who she is immediately. She walks out with her wheeled suitcase squeaking along behind her, and even though she's in the middle of a crowd of hundreds of people-hundreds of beautiful girls, any of which could be the mysterious Adrianne-Jensen's so sure. She just screams perfection: long blonde hair crashing about her shoulders, lean torso above tanned, shapely legs, pink lips that curl into a blindingly white smile when she sees Jared.
"Baby!" she calls, and Jared practically vaults over some little kid to get to her. She drops her bag to the floor and beelines straight for him, and he breaks into a run. They meet in the middle and he catches her in his arms, spinning her as if she weighs nothing, as if it's been two years since they last saw each other and not two months. It's fucking iconic, the so-satisfying payoff to a soppy romantic comedy. Jensen watches from behind a bank of gawking spectators as Jared brings her down, her fingers winding in his unruly hair so that she can drag him even closer for a kiss.
Jensen expects people to start clapping. They don't, of course, just cough awkwardly and avert their children's eyes, and eventually Jared leads Adrianne back to where Jensen's waiting. Jared is practically glowing, one huge hand wrapped around hers, the other around the handle of her case. "Jensen," he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "this is Adrianne. Adrianne, my roommate, Jensen."
Adrianne smiles at him and extends her hand. Her fingernails are painted a fittingly beautiful pale pink. "I've heard a lot about you," she says.
She has a firm, confident grip and Jensen smiles automatically back at her. She's only a couple of inches shorter than him and her attitude screams no-nonsense; she gives Jared a hard shove when he tries to insist on taking her luggage out to Jensen's truck himself. She sashays towards the exit with the suitcase back in her grasp and Jared stares after her with a hopelessly smitten look on his face. He tilts against Jensen like he can't hold himself up anymore. "Isn't she great?" he sighs.
Jensen looks at her retreating backside too and can't really see the appeal, but he nods anyway. "She seems nice," he says, sort of lamely, knowing it's probably not what Jared wants to hear. But Jensen isn't Chad; he's not going to ask how Jared ending up tapping a hot piece of ass like that or request stories about said ass. So instead he just follows Jared out to the car in relative silence.
Adrianne is waiting in the passenger seat, so Jensen slides Jared the keys and squeezes into the tiny space behind her, resigned to sit cramped for the twenty minutes it takes for them to drive home. Jared and Adrianne shoot the shit the entire way; she complains about her job, he tells her all about his latest auditions. She says it was great of him to finally get a car, but did it have to be this piece of shit truck? Jared informs her that she just insulted his roommate's car and she goes red with embarrassment. She apologizes, he laughs, and Jensen stares awkwardly at the back of Jared's head.
It seems like hours later that they finally pull up in front of the apartment building. Jensen's knees crack ominously as he steps out of the car and he groans. Jared chuckles, claps him on the back. "Starting to feel your age, old man?"
Jensen swats his hand away. "Shut up, dude, I'm only twenty-six," he grumbles, and looks up to see Adrianne watching them carefully. She smiles when she sees him staring, though, so Jensen lets it go without much thought.
Jared leads the way up the stairs, tossing open the door to their flat with an excited ta-dah! that loses some of its vigour when met with Adrianne's expression. She decrees it quaint and comments on how nice it'll look once they've cleaned up a little. Jensen doesn't tell her that this is as clean as it gets. Instead, he busies himself with dinner-smoked salmon, his speciality-and tries not to be annoyed at how much she takes to Sadie. After all the complaining, he expected her to hate the dog, but she flies to Sadie's side immediately and baby-talks more than Jared does.
The food is almost ready when Jared sidles up to Jensen and says, "Hey, man, I think I'm going to take her out to eat, just the two of us, you know? I know this French place that she'd definitely love…"
Jensen sighs and continues to quietly sweep the cutting board. "Okay," he says. He can adjust. He'll just eat a lot of fish. It's good for you, he tells himself blandly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jared slips Adrianne's coat around her thin shoulders. Jared leans in to press a kiss to her neck and Jensen whirls back to his salad, cheeks flushing. He doesn't look up until he hears the door shut and their voices fade down the hallway.
With a whine, Sadie wraps her gangly body around Jensen's legs. He sighs and pats her head. "I know, girl," he says, as though he has actually fucking figured out what his problem is. Sadie, unsympathetic, noses hard at his crotch and Jensen yelps, flails, knocking several slices of cucumber onto the kitchen tiles. She's on them in an instant and Jensen thinks in muted frustration that he's been conned.
His whole evening suddenly feels like the worst one he's had in a while. Jensen leaves his salmon to go cold and takes his half-made salad to the couch, where he munches on iceberg lettuce and watches bad reality TV until he bores himself to sleep.
part three
Full header in MASTER POST.
part one
Sophia spends the better part of an hour grilling Jensen about Jared. How'd you guys meet? Is he cool? Is he pretty? What circuit shorted out in your brain and made you think that it was a good idea to move in with a total stranger? He's really fucking hot, isn't he? Are you two hooking up? Are you doing it at midnight underneath the window of a certain cheating asshole who shall remain unnamed?
After he leaves Sophia with his new address, Jensen phones Danneel and invites her too. Maybe she and Sophia can work it out, maybe not; either way, he wants Danni there. He's really grateful to her.
When Danneel tells him that she'll find a babysitter, Jensen almost tells her to bring Dashel along. Then he remembers the booze that Jared said Chad was bringing and, really, the last thing he needs is his favourite student spreading rumours about his torrid home life around the classroom. So instead he smiles and nods into the receiver and Danneel excitedly informs him that she'll definitely be there, fashionably fifteen minutes late, and she can't wait to see his new place.
It turns out that he needs that extra time. He gets home at five, just half an hour before the party is due to start, arms piled high with some "necessities" that Jared begged him for. It's mostly stupid things like chips and dip and a really delicious-looking cheesecake, but Jared also requested a rather ridiculous amount of tin foil. When Jensen ambles in the doorway, vision almost completely obscured by the fruits of his labour, Jared leaps out of nowhere and takes the bags in his octopus-arms, setting them down on the kitchen counter with a flourish.
"Where is it, where is it?" Jared says, sifting past the food. "God, you took for-fucking-ever, man! I hope I have time…"
Greetings are obviously overrated, grumps Jensen, tired from a long day. Aloud, he says, "Time for what?"
"To make my decorations!" Jared answers, voice muffled by plastic bags. A moment later, he resurfaces with three rolls of foil. "A-ha!"
Bemused, Jensen watches Jared scurry into his bedroom. He shrugs it off and begins to unpack the groceries. "This might be sort of a small thing," he calls to the open door over his shoulder. "I only asked two people."
Jared pokes his head out into the hall. "That's fine," he chirps. "I asked enough for the both of us."
Jensen's stomach begins to sink. "How many-?"
"Well, let's see. I talked to Chad, Rosey and his boy, Justin, Milo-wait, he's not coming-uh, Jeff… so that's, what, five? If you want, you can ask Misha. I know how much you like him."
Jensen sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "Eight people doesn't allow for much breathing room," he says, only half joking.
"Aw, lighten up, Jenny." Jared strolls by with a half-formed aluminium disco ball and gives Jensen's hip a playful bump. "Now go ask Misha if he wants to join us. You know how I feel about the guy; I'm doin' you a real favour. You might even get laid tonight, if you're lucky."
Jensen means to roll his eyes, but when Jared winks at him, his stomach does a weird little flip-thing instead, whisking the exasperation right out of him. Jensen smoothes his shirt down self-consciously and tries to dismiss the strange feeling. It must be the coffee from earlier acting up.
Jared's eyebrows hook in a confused curve. "You okay?"
Jensen flushes, feeling badly thrown-caught out, almost; red-handed-and has to turn away. "I'm good," he mutters, halfway out the door. "I'm going to. Uh. Misha."
"What's that? You're going to do Misha?" Jared calls after him. Jensen can hear him cackling all the way down the stairs, and he thinks maybe his eyes are still rolled up in his head when he knocks on Misha's door, because the look that Misha gives him upon answering it can only be described as startled. It's quickly masked with a slightly awkward smile.
"Hey," Misha says. He's wearing faded grey sweatpants and a loose-necked t-shirt that looks like it's gone through the wash a few too many times. His medallions are absent, and his hair is wet and flopping over his forehead. He looks good.
"Um, hi." Jensen gives a stupid little finger-wave that he regrets a second later, when Misha's face twists in something much closer to amusement. "Jared and I are having a housewarming party tonight. Five-thirty. Sorry about the short notice, but, uh. Do you want to come?"
As if surprised by the invite, Misha just blinks at him for a moment. Then he nods jerkily and Jensen spots what could be a light blush on his face, but the hallway is dark and there's no real way of knowing. Either way, Jensen's job is done and he steps back-only to trip over the uneven flooring and fall flat on his ass. Impact leaves him a little dazed, and there's a second or two of stunned silence before he grumbles under his breath, "Smooth, Jensen," and hears a cut-off little noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter. He looks up and Misha is leaning against the doorframe, hiding a wide grin behind his hand.
"Sorry," he says at Jensen's scowl, chuckling, and bends over to help him up. "I shouldn't laugh."
Jensen brushes dirt off the seat off his pants and shakes his head. "No, it's fine," he says to his feet, because now he's blushing a little. This just isn't his day. He runs a hand through his hair and shifts from foot to foot. "So that was a yes?"
"I'll be there," Misha says, and when Jensen turns to leave this time, it's a little awkward but he doesn't fall over again, so he counts it as a win. Misha is still standing in the open doorway, staring up at him, when Jensen glances over his shoulder at the top of the stairs.
-
By the time people start streaming into their tiny apartment, Jared has coated the walls, appliances, and food in foil. His rather misshapen disco ball is hanging from the ceiling, and he's blasting Huey Lewis and the News from his iPod. Two of Jared's friends-Jared introduced them as Welling and Rosenbaum, and Jensen can only hope those are last names-are bouncing on the sunken-in couch, jamming out to The Power of Love.
They seem like nice guys. Welling is tall, only marginally shorter than Jared, and pretty enough to be a model, with bright eyes half-hidden under artfully tousled dark hair. He appears to be an intelligent enough dude, quick to smile if slow to talk. Rosenbaum seems sort of crazy, if Jensen's honest. His head is shaved completely bald and he's wearing this light pink, open-necked sweater that is gayer than most of even Jared's attire. And Jared thinks that wearing polos with bright pink floral patterns on them is a-okay.
Aside from that, Rosenbaum-though as the night goes on and more beer is ingested, 'Rosenbaum' becomes 'Rosey'-is cool; a little loud and boisterous, not unlike Jared, but good at heart.
Jeff is next to arrive, sporting a full beard, a bright smile, and his dog. "Couldn't find a sitter," Jensen overhears him saying to Jared, "but I didn't want to leave her all alone. That all right with you?"
"Of course!" Jared near-squeals, dropping to his knees to give Bisou a rough scratch about the ears. He's in full-blown baby-talk mode when a new arrival bursts in, arms laden with a box full of beer. It's Chad, of course, and he's just as blond and squinty-eyed as Jared said he would be.
"Jay-dog!" he roars, depositing the booze on the fold-away dining table and whirling on Jared. "How's it hangin', man?"
"A little to the left," Jared answers without missing a beat, rising to his feet, and judging how they howl with laughter and slap hands, this isn't a new joke. Jared's whole face is swallowed up by his grin, and Jensen only realises he's been staring when Jared turns towards him, smiles wider, and pulls Chad over. "C'mon, man," he says, over his shoulder, "I want you to meet Jensen."
Jensen watches them cross the room and sees in his face just what kind of friend Chad is. This is not a friendly introduction and there will be no manly chest-bumping here; this is an evaluation. Suddenly stupidly nervous, Jensen tries to subtly tweak his hair to perfection and brush imaginary lint from his clothes. He's been sized up before; he can do this. Hopefully.
"Jensen, this is my buddy Chad," Jared says, beaming at the both of them as he tugs Chad forward. "Chad, Jensen."
"Uh, hi." Jensen tries at a smile, hoping it doesn't broadcast his nervousness for the world to see, and extends an open palm. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Same," Chad says, taking Jensen's hand and giving it a half-hearted, fishlike shake. He leans in, so close that Jensen can see his patchy blond stubble a little too clearly, and lowers his voice to a whisper. "I just want to know one thing, and I want the truth. Do you or do you not have purely platonic interest in my boy here? Because I can't have you trying to pursue sexual relations with him. He's told me what the story is, and I want to make it super clear that he's just faking it, all right, and he has a girlfriend, okay-"
Jensen puts up his hands in surrender and takes a large step back. "Whoa, okay. No, I don't have any- I don't want anything like that." He frowns. "Has he told you that I-?"
Chad colours slightly, but before he has the chance to answer, Jared grabs him by the collar and hauls him backward. "Chad, shut up," he groans, looking sheepish. There are two streaks of red across his cheekbones. At Jensen's expectant look, though, he only shrugs. "Sometimes Chad takes the things I say offhand and just runs with them, you know? I don't. I mean, I didn't think."
Jensen crosses his arms over his chest and snaps, "Bedroom. Now."
Jared trails towards his room like a kicked puppy, and even though Jensen had been picturing his own room, he stomps after Jared. They're only supposed to have one, after all. The last thing he sees is Jeff's raised eyebrows, his expression caught between concerned and something much more suggestive, before Jensen shuts the door and whirls on Jared. "What exactly did you tell Chad?"
Jared winces and scuffs his flipflop into the carpet. "It was just a stupid joke." When he doesn't clarify, Jensen arches an eyebrow and Jared shrugs, says in a rush, "I told him that you were, uh, forcing me to be your sex slave in lieu of paying rent, and that's how come you allowed me to stay here." He gives an awkward, toothy smile. "He bought right into it. Funny, right?"
Jensen's sort of surprised at Jared's honesty, but annoyance overrides it. "Hilarious," he mutters, looking away and rubbing at his temples. He doesn't have the heart to be too pissed off, though. It was a harmless joke that Chad, not Jared, took too far. He turns back to Jared and waves a dismissive hand. "Forget it. Let's go-"
"Not yet," says Jared, smiling. He looks relieved.
Jensen arches an eyebrow and Jared dives forward, burying his huge hands in Jensen's hair and completely wrecking it. He pulls and tugs and twists until Jensen actually shoves him off, at which point Jared, still grinning, undoes his shirt just to button it up wrong. "You said, 'Bedroom, now,' and you looked all growly and shit," he says at Jensen's confused look. "C'mon. You were obviously dragging me in here to have your way with me. Do you really want to let that opportunity pass by?"
Of course, when Jared and Jensen come out of the bedroom, Misha's standing in the front doorway, clean shaven and hair relatively tamed. He's wearing dress pants, narrow shoulders swallowed up by a charcoal grey suit jacket, and looks pitifully out of place surrounded by t-shirts and jeans.
Embarrassed, Jensen runs a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to return it to normal. Judging by how Misha's eyes are drawn to it, he only makes it worse. Jared gives him a manly pat on the shoulder and shoves him in Misha's direction, but before Jensen has the chance to say hi, Misha says, "I overdressed. Damn it."
He doesn't look nervous or frustrated, though; just a little lost. Jensen assures him otherwise, gives him a beer, and directs him to the couch, where Jeff immediately engages him in conversation. Misha's eyes are still on Jensen when he turns away to greet Danneel, who bounces in the door and gives him a wide smile. Her auburn hair shines in the dim light.
"Jen, hey," she says, enveloping him in a tight, brief hug. "How are you, babe?"
"Good," he says, and he's surprised to realise that it's sort of true. It's only been two weeks since he met Jared, but. Jensen glances back at his new roommate, chatting animatedly with Welling, and realises he likes the guy. Jared is perky and talkative and a little overwhelming, but he's nice and different and- and it's refreshing. Jensen can only hope it stays that way.
He turns back to Danneel, whose whole face lights up at the sight of his smile. "That's great," she says, quietly, like she's telling him a secret. She rubs his shoulder and opens her mouth to say something else when someone crashes across the threshold behind her, propelling her into Jensen.
It's Sophia. She's loud, her hair a bit wild, looking a little drunk already. Hanging desperately onto her hand is a short, pretty girl Jensen thinks he recognises, but he isn't sure until Sophia crows, "Jenny! Hey there, Jenny-baby. This is my friend- my friend Sandraaaa. You remember her, right?"
"It's Sandy," the girl says. "We met at Soph's birthday bash last year. It's okay if you don't remember," and she smiles, too bright, and pushes her hair away from her forehead. She's dressed all in pink and hasn't let go of Sophia's hand.
Jensen smiles and shakes her hand, reintroduces himself, but then his eyes snag on Danneel and his stomach drops to his toes. Danneel is staring at Sophia and Sandy's linked hands like it's the end of the world, like it's the very worst thing she's ever seen, and Jensen feels a little sick. Once Sophia and Sandy have gone for the beer, Jensen grabs Danneel and tugs her into his bedroom.
"Nice digs," she says, looking around, but she won't meet his eyes and there's no way she doesn't know why he dragged her in here.
"Danni," Jensen says, sitting her down on the broad white palette of his bed. "Do you. I mean. You know that, um, Sophia's straight, don't you? So," and he's beginning to ramble, desperately hoping he hasn't read Danneel wrong, "that means she's definitely not with Sandy, but it also. It also sort of-that is, uh, if you like her-"
Jensen is starting to regret the two beers Jared shoved at him, because Danneel is looking at him with an expression he can't possibly begin to decipher. He could never hold his liquor, and coupled with his apparent inability to speak, this looks like it's about to head abruptly south.
"Straight," Danneel repeats, and her mouth twists in a wry smile. "Okay. Thanks for the talk, Jen."
Then she stands and strides right out the door, leaving Jensen staring dumbly after her. By the time he returns to the party, Jared's other friend has shown up, Sophia and Chad are looking real chatty in the corner, and Sandy is hanging off of every word Jared's saying. And, from what Jensen overhears, Jared is talking about Bisou's fleas. This girl is desperate, Jensen thinks, and the meanness of the thought sort of surprises him. He dismisses it, scolding himself.
With Sophia otherwise occupied-she and Chad are nearly nose-to-nose on Jared's beanbag-and Danneel more intent on her beer than talking to Jensen (or talking at all), Jensen plunks himself down next to Misha and Jeff. Bisou is wagging her tail between Jeff's legs.
"Jensen!" Jeff says, smiling warmly and clapping him on the back with the hand that isn't palming Bisou's head. Jensen is instantly reminded of how much he likes the guy. "Misha was just telling me about the exhibition his friend is putting on at the Brownstone Gallery. It's a tribute to-what'd you call it? Dee… Brook?"
"Die Brücke," supplies Misha.
"I work at Brownstone," Jensen says. "I teach classes in the building behind the gallery."
"That's right," Jeff says, rubbing at Bisou's ears. She whines happily and noses his knee. "I guess you've seen Misha's friend around then."
Jensen thinks hard, but the only stranger he's seen around is an attractive, scruffy-looking guy lurking around the director's office and in the unused rooms of the gallery. Guess that kind of fits the bill. "Tall guy?" Jensen asks. "Um. Brown hair? Likes to wear sweater vests?"
"That's Michael," Misha says, nodding. He shifts in his seat and adds, "He's my ex."
There's something subdued, withdrawn, in the way he says it, like it's a wound that's still tender. Jensen wonders when they broke up; instead of asking, he gives Misha a manly yet comforting pat on the shoulder. "Maybe I'll drop by," he says. "When's it opening?"
"Next week. I'll come with you and we can grab lunch after?" Misha looks hopeful and Jensen can't say no.
He has a split second to wonder if it sounds like a date-to Jeff, to Misha, to himself-before Jared wanders over and falls into Jensen's lap. He's obviously drunk, red-faced, slow, and grins up at Jensen blindingly. Jensen's smiling back before he realises it, everything else forgotten.
Jeff chuckles. "You're so cute," he teases, rising to his feet. He eyeballs Jared for a second longer. "Looks like you better cut this one off. Actually, Jensen," and Jeff winks, of all things, "you might need to take him to bed."
Jensen colours and Jeff laughs outright, booming and contagious. "Thanks for the company, boys," he says, winding his hand in Bisou's lead, "but I'm gonna go. Bisou needs a walk. Have a good night!"
After Jeff walks out, it's like the floodgates open and everybody realises they've somewhere to be. Danneel slips out without letting anybody know, and Jensen only realises she's gone when the apartment is all but empty. Half an hour earlier, Welling and Rosenbaum went from dancing to eighties rock to necking on top of the kitchen counter; they run out a few moments later, after a quick goodbye to Jared. Justin, Jared's other friend, follows them with a sigh. 'Designated driver,' he mouths.
Sandy and Sophia leave twenty minutes later, once Sandy has stopped making moony eyes at Jared and Chad is too drunk to have coherent conversation with Sophia. Jensen says goodbye from the couch, half-finished third beer in hand. He feels stupid and loopy and that must be why he hasn't shoved Jared off his lap yet. Chad is giving him the evil eye from the beanbag.
Jensen shakes his head and looks away, resting his hand unthinkingly on Jared's head. He absently smoothes Jared's fringe back off his forehead and Misha jumps up like he's been shot.
"I'm gonna go," he says quickly, not looking at Jensen and Jared. "Got an early start in the morning."
Jensen wants to tell him to stay, that they were having good, intelligent conversation of the kind that is hard to come by in Jensen's group of friends, but by the time he opens his mouth Misha is out the door. So he just raises his hand in a belated wave. "Should've stopped at two beers," he chastises himself.
Jared giggles. Doesn't laugh or chortle or something, but actually giggles. It makes Jensen giggle, and then Jared squints at him and whispers, "I want to tell you something," too soft for Chad to hear.
Jensen's heart does a ridiculous thing and speeds up. It's the beer. "What?"
Jared shuts his mouth with a snap, eyes darting around like someone might be spying on them, and then says, loud and proud, "That Sandy girl gave me her number. She totally wants me."
A big breath escapes Jensen with an embarrassing whoosh. He relaxes against the cushions, relieved but feeling at the same time like he missed out on something. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Well, obviously I'm not going to call her," Jared says, rolling his eyes. Then he rolls his body off of Jensen and onto the floor. "Ouf," he says into the carpet. "Chad, get out."
"Lemme crash on your couch," Chad whines. "I'm too drunk. I'm- I can't drive. I'll drive off the road and crash, Jay. You don't even understand. I'll drive into the sea."
"We're nowhere near the sea," Jensen points out mildly. Or maybe not so mildly, because Chad shoots him a vicious glare. Jensen hopes he didn't insult Chad's mother instead. That happens sometimes when Jensen has had a few.
"Fine, you can stay, you stupid fucker," Jared says to Chad, still face down.
Wordlessly, Jensen stumbles off the sofa and towards his bedroom, leaving Jared to get Chad a pillow and some blankets. It's maybe not the smartest idea, judging by how Jared can't even stand, but Jensen doesn't really care. He's focussed on how Jeff cooed at them, on Misha's eagerness to leave-on how he and Jared apparently make a convincing couple.
In his drunken haze, it doesn't trouble Jensen as much as he would've thought.
That's what's troubling.
-
The next morning, Jensen only has a vague memory of the previous night's proceedings. A week later, the fuzzy details have vanished as well. Jensen has no problem with that. He's stupid when he's drunk-he thinks about stupid things, says stupid things, does stupid things. It's always the same and judging by how Misha keeps shooting him these sort of sad sideways looks, this time was no exception.
"So," Jensen says, uncomfortable. They're standing in front of one of Misha's ex's paintings, and it's. It's really not bad. Jensen sort of likes it. "He's good."
Misha stares blankly at the girl, naked and tilted forward, staring at him from the canvas. "Yep. He's got a thing for Kirchner," he says finally. He keeps looking over his shoulder, like he's waiting for someone to sneak up on him. "I always thought this was his best work."
"You never told me that," says a voice from behind them. Jensen turns and it's the scruffy-looking guy-the artist. Michael Weatherly, Misha said his name was. He's a little taller than Jensen, but older, unshaven, dark hair spiked upwards. His stubbled cheeks dimple in a fake-looking smile.
"Michael," Misha says, but he doesn't look happy about it. "How are you?"
"Is this your new boyfriend?" Michael says in lieu of a response, sneering. Before Misha can say anything, Michael says to Jensen, "I'd watch out for this one, pal. He's a bit of an asshole once you get past that 'I'm awkward and weird' thing."
Jensen's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Um," he says.
Misha's face is red, but whether it's with anger or embarrassment is hard to tell. Without a word, he takes Jensen by the elbow and steers him away. "What a dick," he says emphatically once they're out of hearing range, out of the gallery itself, and it's the most emotional Jensen's ever seen him. He keeps running his fingers through his hair, tugging it into even more impressive shapes, and he's running a rut in the pavement with his pacing. "God. Fuck. Sorry about him."
"Not a happy breakup?" Jensen says, sitting down on a nearby bench. After a moment of hesitation, Misha joins him, shaking his head.
"You could say that," he says dryly, and doesn't elaborate. Jensen doesn't ask him to, and they sit in companionable silence until Jensen's stomach growls, loud and obnoxious. Then Misha starts to laugh, baring his teeth in a wide smile. "I guess we should go grab that lunch. My treat."
Jensen tries to protest, but Misha waves him away. "I insist," he says, nudging Jensen into a nearby restaurant, and Jensen gives up. Misha leads them to a small table in the back and orders what he touts as the best food on the menu for them both. Jensen lets him, caught up in the entire scene. It's only when their food-lobster, for Christ's sake, at one o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon-arrives that Jensen clears his throat quietly and asks, "What are you doing?"
Misha pauses, fork raised halfway to his mouth. "Eating," he says, a little unsure all of a sudden. Jensen can see him sinking back into his shyer persona, shedding the dry, sarcastic Misha that Jensen got to know today.
"This," Jensen says anyway, gesturing to their candlelit corner. "The, uh. Lobster."
Misha says, "I don't know what you're talking about," but Jensen can see that he definitely does. So Jensen just gives him a no-bullshit stare until Misha sighs and puts down his utensils. "There's one thing you should know," he says. "I'm not hitting on you."
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, I am," Misha says with a sigh, throwing up his arms. "You caught me. But. I know you have Jared, and I. Well." He shrugs, seeming abashed. "You guys seem happy."
"Yeah," Jensen mumbles, picking at his food. He isn't hungry anymore.
Either Misha's psychic or his appetite has similarly vanished, because after a moment he rubs his neck and says, "You know, I'm not really a lobster person. Maybe we should go."
"Yeah."
"I'm still picking up the tab, though," Misha says, before Jensen even thinks of that. He has his wallet out in record time, but Jensen wrestles him into splitting it. By the time they exit the restaurant, they're okay again, deep into a discussion on art and city life; Misha's all smiles, back to not so much cracking jokes constantly as slipping snarky little jibes into the conversation so subtly Jensen doesn't even notice that his taste in artists has been insulted until five minutes later.
-
It's three weeks later when Jensen and Jared begin to find equilibrium. Jensen gets used to (and begins to secretly enjoy) Jared's unrepentant enthusiasm and numerous similarities to small children; Jared comes to terms with Jensen's occasional bouts with crankiness and finds his own ways to draw out smiles. They quit squabbling over who gets the bathroom first thing in the morning-though most days this isn't a problem, as Jensen is up at least three hours before Jared, who usually doesn't rise until after noon-and they work out a roster for menial household tasks. Jensen's heart still occasionally acts up, skipping beats or pumping double-time or something equally strange, when Jared does something goofy, but it's getting better.
Or worse. It's hard to tell.
Either way, it's not a great way to start a morning. When Jared bounds into Jensen's room at quarter to seven on a Saturday-without knocking, no less-and pounces on him, straddling his hips with a knee on either side, Jensen startles awake and has to fight the impending freak-out with all his might. His heart is beating a mile a minute; it's taking all of his strength not to thrash and buck and wriggle until Jared goes over the side of his bed. But he does it. He forces his body to remain still, regulates his breathing, and opens his eyes to a blindingly white smile.
"Good morning, Jared," he says, a little ragged. "No, I'm not particularly enjoying the feeling of being crushed, thanks for asking."
Jared cocks his head as if he's confused, looking very much like a dog. "Don't lie to me," he says, still grinning. "Guess what!"
Jensen groans and twists his head to the side, trying to find his clock. "What time is it?"
"Seven o'clock or something," Jared says happily. "Now guess!"
Jensen can't think of a single reason Jared would be up before him. Defeated, he sags against his pillows and says dutifully, "What?"
Jared jumps up and down and possibly crushes Jensen's small intestine. It's not fun. "I'm going to an audition today," he says. "For this really cool show where the main character is a ghost. Who is going to be me for sure. Awesome, huh?"
"Awesome," Jensen echoes, and smiles just to see Jared beam back at him. And yeah, Jared's ego is overly inflated because he was in a couple of commercials a few years back and starred in a pilot that ended up never airing, but Jensen doesn't mind when Jared rambles about it because he's so happy, so sure that it's what he wants to do. And Jensen hopes, he really does, that Jared does make it big someday. Whether it's going to be thanks to this particular show, Jensen can't say.
What he does say is, "That's really cool, man, and I hope it goes well, but can you please get off now?"
Jared climbs off him obediently and stands, rocking on the balls of his feet, over Jensen's bed. "I've got a good feeling about this one, man," he says. "I really do." His smile falters a little bit. "But I, um. I'm really fucking nervous. What if I suck?"
Jensen rubs at his eyes and sits up sleepily, tiredness preventing him from boggling at the total one-eighty. His room feels too hot, but he really wants to put on a shirt anyway. "You'll be fine," he says around a yawn. "You're good, Jared. Don't stress out. I saw that, uh, McDonald's commercial. You rocked that."
Jared goes a little pink. It's sort of adorable. "I'm lovin' it," he says. He dawdles at Jensen's bedside for a moment before checking his phone and backing towards the door. "I. I gotta go," he says. "I have to be there in fifteen."
"Good luck."
Jared smiles at him and shuts the door. Jensen flops back against the mattress and tries really hard to get back to sleep, but it's a lost cause. He's too nervous.
-
Jensen knows from the way the door shuts that it didn't go well. He's sitting on his bed, applying the finishing touches to the mural he painted on his wall the week before, and he hears the front door slam. It feels like it shakes the foundations and Jensen is up and running into the living room in an instant, brushes left behind.
Jared is slumped in front of the open fridge, one big hand wrapped around a carton of milk. He's staring blankly at a wedge of cheese on the first shelf. "Bombed it," Jared says before Jensen can say anything. "Absolutely fucking sucked."
Jensen doesn't really know what to do. He steps forward to touch Jared's arm, maybe, but instead Jared drops the milk and whirls around, launching himself forward. He wraps his arms around Jensen, hauling him in so Jensen's face is crushed against Jared's neck, and doesn't let go. It's not the first time he's hugged Jensen-he seems to do it all the time, as a hello and goodbye and anything in between-but this time it really feels like it means something. Jensen slowly lifts his arms and hugs back, and Jared clutches him a little tighter.
"I hate everything," Jared says a moment later, into Jensen's shoulder.
Jensen pulls back. Bites his lip, wonders for a second if he's going to regret it later, then blurts out, "Do you still want to get a dog?"
Jared blinks at him. "Huh?"
Jensen scratches the back of his neck. "Well," he mumbles, "when we first moved in, you wouldn't shut up about-um. You really wanted a dog. Right?"
Jared stares at him for a moment longer before breaking into a smile. "Jensen," he says softly. He's still holding on, hands dwarfing the knobs of Jensen's shoulders.
"I made an appointment at the pound," Jensen says. "For tomorrow."
Jared's eyes widen and then his expression goes soft, mouth a little slack with surprise. "You didn't have to."
Jensen shrugs and scuffs the toe of his shoe into the carpet. "I wanted to," he says to the floor. His cheeks are red; he can feel it. "It wasn't. I didn't. I just- like dogs."
"We're not getting some yappy little terrier," Jared says. There's a grin in his voice and Jensen looks up, pulling a disgusted face instead of thanking him for not pushing the subject. The mood lifts.
"No way," Jensen says, cutting one hand across his throat. "Icky was enough to last me the rest of my life."
"Icky?"
"Icarus. Danneel's dog. Tiny cranky bastard."
Jared laughs. It's a big laugh, straight from the belly. He throws his head back and guffaws, and suddenly Jensen's laughing too. Jared looks down at Jensen and his eyes are glittering. He slides his hands over, thumbs brushing dry and warm right at the place where Jensen's neck meets his shoulder. It's an intimate, gentle touch, weirdly so, and when Jared doesn't say anything, doesn't move, Jensen's heart starts to go funny. He can taste his nervousness in his mouth-Jared's so close, and just looking.
Jensen's sure that he only blinks, but the moment is broken anyway and Jared jumps back like he was electrocuted. He pats his hands down on his jeans, looking thrown, a little pale. He clears his throat and says thickly, "So."
"So," Jensen repeats. His heartbeat is gradually slowing down. He draws in a quiet breath and scratches the back of his head. "Tomorrow."
"I can't wait." Jared's discomfort winks out of existence, replaced by a bright smile. He bounces to the door. "Come on. Let me treat you to lunch."
Jensen almost says no, but Jared's hopeful grin has him reaching for his coat with barely a thought. Later, when Jared whispers, "Thank you," over a deluxe cheeseburger and large fries, Jensen has no idea how to respond to the emotion in Jared's voice, so he just jams another forkful of lettuce into his mouth and rubs feverishly at the warmth rising in his cheeks.
-
The dog is named Sadie. Jensen thinks she looks sort of like a dingo, all sad brown eyes and big stick-up ears. The woman showing them around the pound is rambling on, something about a shepherd mix, but Jensen's not really listening. Jared is on his knees in front of her kennel, hands fisted in the metal coils. He's making these stupid noises and twisting his face into the weirdest expressions, and Sadie is just staring at him. She seems sort of wary, snuffling and pawing at her ratty bed.
They haven't been there more than five minutes. Sadie is the first dog they've seen, but Jared seems to have made his decision. He rockets to his feet and whirls, beaming, on Jensen. "This is the one," he announces, confirming Jensen's suspicions. Sadie woofs.
Jensen turns to the woman, shrugs, and smiles. "This is the one," he repeats.
Jared starts doting on Sadie the moment they pile her in the backseat of Jensen's truck. Amused, Jensen opts to stay in the car while Jared blows his entire pay check at a pet store, buying a ridiculous pink collar and leash set, a food bowl and some dry dog food, and a fancy-looking bed. It's high-quality stuff, Jensen observes, rolling the bag of kibble in one hand as he scratches Sadie behind the ears with the other. She's taking to her new owners pretty well, howling happily as Jared whoops and stuffs her things in the trunk, so excited he's jumping with it. Yesterday's disappointment has completely left him; it's like there's nothing that could possibly bring him down.
Jeff is waiting on the stoop when they get back to the apartment. His hand is wrapped in Bisou's collar and he beams when Sadie drags Jensen forward, straining at her brand-new leash. "Look at you, gorgeous," he coos, and Jensen is flattered and a little weirded out for a split-second before Jeff drops to his knees in front of Sadie. He glances up at Jensen and smiles. "Good choice. What a pretty girl…"
Jeff loses himself in la-la land and Jensen turns back to help Jared cart the shopping in.
"Her previous owners already had her spayed," Jared says once Jensen is within earshot. He passes the dog bed to Jensen and stocks his own arms high with food, looking thoughtful. "But we'll have to take her to get her shots…" Jared stares at where Jeff has a lax hold on Sadie's leash as she and Bisou circle around each other. He smiles, wide and without looking at Jensen, and then says, quiet, "I lied to you."
Jensen freezes mid-step, nearly tripping over the curb. He loses his grip on the bed in his haste to turn back to Jared. "Huh?"
Jared smiles at him awkwardly, looking nervous. The world seems to narrow itself down to just them, Jensen and Jared standing in front of a beat-up truck in front of a worn-down apartment building, and Jensen for an instant allows himself to think of all the things Jared could possibly say next. I rocked that audition, I hate dogs, I don't have a girlfriend, I'm gay and I-
Jensen shakes his head, clearing it before his scenarios could take a weirder turn, and says, "What about?"
Jared doesn't say anything, just shifts uncomfortably and glances back at Jeff, who suddenly remembers he has somewhere to be. "If you guys ever need a dog-sitter, let me know," he says, and excuses himself and Bisou with an apologetic smile.
Sadie isn't going anywhere, waiting happily by the front door, so Jensen turns away to pick her bed off the ground and Jared all of a sudden blurts out, "You know when we first met, I said that my friends kicked me out?"
Jensen straightens up. "Yes?"
Jared licks his lips self-consciously. "Well, I really, uh. What I really meant was that I moved out of my dorm."
"Your dorm?" Jensen's not following. "Jared, why are you telling me this?"
"Because I feel bad about it," Jared says in a rush. "You go out and do this really nice thing for me, and I haven't even been completely honest with you." Guilt is radiating off him; Jensen maybe would have hugged him if it wasn't for all the shit in Jared's arms. The lying didn't help, either. "I dropped out. Of UCLA. It got too hard and I couldn't deal with it, and it wasn't what I wanted to be doing, and." He clears his throat. "Yeah."
"Oh," Jensen says, because he doesn't really know what else to say. Jared's staring at him, eyes wide he like expects Jensen to freak out or hit him or kick him out.
"It's just that you're so smart," Jared rambles before Jensen can say anything more. "Like. You talk about art and you just sound like a fucking genius, and I. I didn't even take art in high school. Ivy League education practically oozes off you, man. I know I'm not an idiot, but I feel so…" He makes a frustrated noise, twisting up his mouth, and shrugs. "You scare me a little bit, okay," he says, and finally smiles a bit, looking somewhat terrified, as though Jensen will confirm his fears and leave it at that.
Jensen's mouth moves over half-formed thoughts; his shrug is jerky and wild, jostling the load in his arms. "Jared," he says, and maybe his exasperation bleeds into his voice a bit, "I don't care what kind of education you have. You could've never gotten past the seventh grade and I still wouldn't care." He shoves at Jared's shoulder, rolling his eyes. "You're a good guy, and you still would be even if you were dumb as a rock. Which you're definitely not."
Jared shrugs. "Misha's smart. You like Misha. I thought you liked intellectual guys." His face colours and he laughs. "Wow, that came out wrong."
Jensen laughs too, but it's strained. For a second there, it sounded like Jared was trying to ask him out. That was weird, Jensen tells his brain, but there's a disappointed flurry in his chest that burns at the lies he's telling himself.
"Let's go inside," Jensen says, too loud; loud enough to drown out the nagging voices in his head, to distract himself. He marches upstairs, Sadie trailing after him. Eventually Jared joins them, throwing all of Sadie's crap onto the couch and announcing, "Okay, let's dog-proof this place!"
Sadie seems content to curl up on the sofa and observe her new home. She woofs in pleasure when Jensen tosses her a treat from the kitchen.
"You'll spoil her," Jared scolds him, but he's grinning. All the tension from earlier is gone, and after a moment, he adds, "Hey, since you're in such a charitable mood today, I was wondering if, um." He's blushing, hesitant, but Jensen waves him on. "Well, see, it's been a while since I saw Adrianne."
Ah, Adrianne. The girlfriend. Jensen had to know this was coming eventually. Still, it hits him weird, like a punch in the gut, leaving him strangely breathless. His voice seems to have left him, so he just nods.
Jared shifts from foot to foot. "Well, she asked, and I was wondering if she could stay with us for a few days next week. I just miss her, you know?" He grins, wide and white, at the thought of her, so damn happy Jensen thinks dryly that the sun must shine out of her perfect ass.
Jensen turns back to scrubbing the pot that Jared used to burn last night's dinner to a crisp. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"
Jared hops up on the counter. "Aw, come on." He makes big gooey puppy-dog eyes at Jensen, who stares resolutely at the burned-black flakes swirling down the drain. "We'll keep it on the DL, I promise."
Jensen sighs and looks up at Jared. It's a mistake, because Jared clasps his hands together over his heart and leans towards Jensen beseechingly, whining, "Pleeeeeeaaase?"
Of course Jensen says yes. Jared whoops so loud half of Los Angeles probably hears and dances around the kitchen. He puts on Huey Lewis again, Back In Time, and jams with Sadie until Jensen can't take it anymore and discreetly begins to shuffle-dance with his spatulas and strainers.
-
Adrianne flies into LAX the following Saturday and Jensen knows who she is immediately. She walks out with her wheeled suitcase squeaking along behind her, and even though she's in the middle of a crowd of hundreds of people-hundreds of beautiful girls, any of which could be the mysterious Adrianne-Jensen's so sure. She just screams perfection: long blonde hair crashing about her shoulders, lean torso above tanned, shapely legs, pink lips that curl into a blindingly white smile when she sees Jared.
"Baby!" she calls, and Jared practically vaults over some little kid to get to her. She drops her bag to the floor and beelines straight for him, and he breaks into a run. They meet in the middle and he catches her in his arms, spinning her as if she weighs nothing, as if it's been two years since they last saw each other and not two months. It's fucking iconic, the so-satisfying payoff to a soppy romantic comedy. Jensen watches from behind a bank of gawking spectators as Jared brings her down, her fingers winding in his unruly hair so that she can drag him even closer for a kiss.
Jensen expects people to start clapping. They don't, of course, just cough awkwardly and avert their children's eyes, and eventually Jared leads Adrianne back to where Jensen's waiting. Jared is practically glowing, one huge hand wrapped around hers, the other around the handle of her case. "Jensen," he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "this is Adrianne. Adrianne, my roommate, Jensen."
Adrianne smiles at him and extends her hand. Her fingernails are painted a fittingly beautiful pale pink. "I've heard a lot about you," she says.
She has a firm, confident grip and Jensen smiles automatically back at her. She's only a couple of inches shorter than him and her attitude screams no-nonsense; she gives Jared a hard shove when he tries to insist on taking her luggage out to Jensen's truck himself. She sashays towards the exit with the suitcase back in her grasp and Jared stares after her with a hopelessly smitten look on his face. He tilts against Jensen like he can't hold himself up anymore. "Isn't she great?" he sighs.
Jensen looks at her retreating backside too and can't really see the appeal, but he nods anyway. "She seems nice," he says, sort of lamely, knowing it's probably not what Jared wants to hear. But Jensen isn't Chad; he's not going to ask how Jared ending up tapping a hot piece of ass like that or request stories about said ass. So instead he just follows Jared out to the car in relative silence.
Adrianne is waiting in the passenger seat, so Jensen slides Jared the keys and squeezes into the tiny space behind her, resigned to sit cramped for the twenty minutes it takes for them to drive home. Jared and Adrianne shoot the shit the entire way; she complains about her job, he tells her all about his latest auditions. She says it was great of him to finally get a car, but did it have to be this piece of shit truck? Jared informs her that she just insulted his roommate's car and she goes red with embarrassment. She apologizes, he laughs, and Jensen stares awkwardly at the back of Jared's head.
It seems like hours later that they finally pull up in front of the apartment building. Jensen's knees crack ominously as he steps out of the car and he groans. Jared chuckles, claps him on the back. "Starting to feel your age, old man?"
Jensen swats his hand away. "Shut up, dude, I'm only twenty-six," he grumbles, and looks up to see Adrianne watching them carefully. She smiles when she sees him staring, though, so Jensen lets it go without much thought.
Jared leads the way up the stairs, tossing open the door to their flat with an excited ta-dah! that loses some of its vigour when met with Adrianne's expression. She decrees it quaint and comments on how nice it'll look once they've cleaned up a little. Jensen doesn't tell her that this is as clean as it gets. Instead, he busies himself with dinner-smoked salmon, his speciality-and tries not to be annoyed at how much she takes to Sadie. After all the complaining, he expected her to hate the dog, but she flies to Sadie's side immediately and baby-talks more than Jared does.
The food is almost ready when Jared sidles up to Jensen and says, "Hey, man, I think I'm going to take her out to eat, just the two of us, you know? I know this French place that she'd definitely love…"
Jensen sighs and continues to quietly sweep the cutting board. "Okay," he says. He can adjust. He'll just eat a lot of fish. It's good for you, he tells himself blandly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jared slips Adrianne's coat around her thin shoulders. Jared leans in to press a kiss to her neck and Jensen whirls back to his salad, cheeks flushing. He doesn't look up until he hears the door shut and their voices fade down the hallway.
With a whine, Sadie wraps her gangly body around Jensen's legs. He sighs and pats her head. "I know, girl," he says, as though he has actually fucking figured out what his problem is. Sadie, unsympathetic, noses hard at his crotch and Jensen yelps, flails, knocking several slices of cucumber onto the kitchen tiles. She's on them in an instant and Jensen thinks in muted frustration that he's been conned.
His whole evening suddenly feels like the worst one he's had in a while. Jensen leaves his salmon to go cold and takes his half-made salad to the couch, where he munches on iceberg lettuce and watches bad reality TV until he bores himself to sleep.
part three