Big Bang: The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn (J2, R // 3/6)

[zephyrocity]

The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn
Full header in MASTER POST.

part two

Jensen didn't bother knocking before barging into Chris' room. Chris barely looked up from his guitar; there was a pen hanging out of his mouth and a piece of paper resting on the coverlet. Steve was standing by the window, facing out. "Yo, Jensen," he said without turning around; Jensen could never figure out how he always knew who it was. "How'd the meeting go?"

"Could the writer look you in the eye?" Chris said, voice muffled around the pen cap he was chewing.

Jensen almost regretted telling his friends the whole story, but could only muster a shrug as he dropped down on the bed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Couldn't stop looking."

"It's 'cause you're so pretty."

"Shut up, Chris," Jensen said automatically. He paused a moment, tracing the dips in the duvet, before adding, "I asked him if he'd like to get a beer with me tonight."

Chris looked up at that, one eyebrow raised. "Sounds like he's not the only one admiring the goods," he said, then turned to the side to spit out the cap. It hit Steve in the shin. "Get your ass over here, Steve. Jensen's having a crisis."

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I am not," he protested. "I don't even know why-I mean, nice guy, sure. A little on the quiet side. And last night was a disaster, you know? I figured the least I could do was buy him a drink. But. He freaked out. White as a sheet when I left."

"Just nervous, Jenny-bean," Chris said, losing interest.

Steve, now standing at the bedside, cocked his head to the side. "I'm sure it's because you're hideously ugly and he'd hate to be seen with you," he said, unhelpfully. "You nearly sucked him off, right? He probably doesn't know how to act."

Jensen rubbed at his forehead, chin drooping towards the bedspread. "I don't want to think about that," he mumbled. Jared had been at Duke's table; he'd looked professional-but had been so very timid and confused once they were alone. 'I won an award in high school, once,' he'd said, and of course, he'd been trying to impress Jensen, trying to make a good impression and get the job. "This would've never happened if Justin hadn't walked," Jensen complained aloud. "I feel like an idiot."

"I'm sure he's feeling worse," Steve put in, but his eyes were on the paper in front of Chris. His lips twitched in amusement, moving slightly as he read silently. "'Do I look like something you can put in a fucking cage'?" he said, after a moment. "Subtle."

Chris flipped him the bird. "Never said I was."

"You guys are so helpful," Jensen said with a scowl, pressing himself back into the mountain of pillows.

"Jensen," Steve said, sharp enough to have Jensen peeking up from the cushions. "You want advice? Quit worrying about it." His tone softened and he reached over to ruffle Jensen's hair, knowing full well how much Jensen hated that. "I'm sure the kid's beating himself up over it enough for the both of you. But come on, man. Act normal. Take the dude out for a fucking drink, Jensen. Ask him about his family and if he's always wanted to be a writer. Just-"

"Finish what you started?" Chris suggested.

"No, definitely don't do that," Steve said loudly, clapping a hand over Chris' mouth. "Just pretend to be a normal guy for one night, huh? One normal guy taking another normal guy out for a beer."

"In apology for nearly sucking him off," Jensen said.

"Yep," Steve said without missing a beat, then took the unfinished lyrics out of Chris' hand and sat back to examine them properly. He didn't say anything else, so Jensen collapsed back on the bed, hoping the resulting shockwave would be enough to throw Steve and Chris onto the floor. It wasn't.

"Act normal, drink beer, no sex," Jensen said, finally. "I can do that."

"'Anaconda smile'?" said Steve. "That kind of sucks. Don't give me that look, boy. I think 'rattlesnake' has a nice ring to it."

~
Jared sort of didn't want to wear another suit for as long as he lived, but showing up at Satine in jeans and a t-shirt, even if it was just for a moment to collect Jensen (on their date, said Jared's mind), seemed incredibly inappropriate. And was that too casual for the whole evening, anyway? Jared didn't go on too many dates, but Chad had just told him to man up when Jared had whined that he didn't know the etiquette.

The clock struck quarter to seven as Jared scrubbed a hand over his face and held a fourth shirt up for examination. He studied his reflection in the mirror for a moment before tossing the plaid aside for fear of looking like a hick or a lumberjack or, in any case, stupid. The next shirt he held up was a vibrant pink polo. 'I love men' was written across the front in glittery capitals, with the 'n' crossed out so it read 'I love me'.

"Too gay," Jared groaned to himself, throwing it on the bed.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Sophia's voice floated through the wood. "Ten minutes!"

"Thanks," Jared called back in a strangled voice. Once her footsteps faded away, he threw a hanger at the wall in frustration and dove into his pile of clothing, reaching for a shirt at random: another polo, deep grey-blue in colour. It was Jeff's, but Jared had borrowed it and liked how it had looked on him so much that he'd 'forgotten' to give it back. Remembering how flattering the cut of the shirt had been, Jared hastily pulled off his ratty white undershirt and pulled the polo over his head.

In the few months since Jared had first worn it, summer had rolled around and he'd filled out a little; as a result, it fit him even better than he remembered. Letting out a whoop of relief, Jared pulled on his favourite pair of dress pants and hurried into the living room, hair whipping untamed around his head. "Well?" he demanded.

Chad and Mike barely glanced up from their game of Mario Kart, but Tom gave him a thumbs up. "Zip your fly, man, and you're good to go," he said wisely over Sophia's muffled giggles.

Jared flushed and hurriedly did so. He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to give at least the illusion of order, then puffed out his chest. "You wish your girlfriend was hot like me."

Chad turned around. "You're right. That shirt does make you look like a chick."

Jared blanched and looked down at it in horror. "Should I change-"

"No," Sophia interrupted, pushing him towards the door. "You look fine. Now go. It's past seven."

Jared didn't argue, just nodded when she advised him to be fashionably late rather than hurry and get "all sweaty and gross", and then took off out the door. He took her advice and walked (at a brisk pace), even managing to get there without getting lost. With the lights of Satine glowing at the end of the street, Jared broke into a run. Ten past seven was definitely still in the realm of 'fashionably late', but Jared had been raised as a gentleman, damn it, and was not going to be any later than he had to be.

He damned his gentlemanly nature to hell when he ran pell-mell up to the front gate and saw Jensen lounging against the fence, chatting amiably with one of the bouncers. His eyes were on Jared, and judging from the way he was smiling, he had definitely seen Jared's pathetic mad dash.

"Hey," Jensen said nicely, choosing to not mention Jared's embarrassing display, and pushed himself off the wall. "I'll see you later, Jim," he called to the bouncer, then stepped up beside Jared and offered him a bright but a little shy smile.

"Have you been waiting long?" Jared asked before he could stop himself.

Jensen laughed. "No, it's fine," he said. "Did you have a place in mind? Because I know this really nice bar down the road…"

Jared shook his head. "Wherever you want to go is great," he said, scratching absently at the collar of his polo. It felt stifling, plastered to his skin with the heat. Jared sort of hated summer. He tended to sweat through every shirt he wore, and it was unattractive and embarrassing; he would be pissed off that Jensen pulled off summer so well if he didn't pull it off so well. Jensen was wearing expensive-looking jeans and a khaki shirt; all he had on his feet were a ratty pair of flip flops, and Jared felt like a total idiot for worrying about his outfit so much.

"I'm too dressed up," he said, guiltily. He regretted it the instant it was out of his mouth.

Jensen looked surprised. "Um," he said, giving Jared a quick once-over as though he hadn't noticed Jared's outfit before that moment. For all of one second, Jared wished he'd worn the 'I love men' shirt, and then Jensen scratched the back of his neck and smiled again, quick and close-mouthed. "You're not. You look good." Then Jensen hesitated, emotions that Jared couldn't read shifting in his face. "Uh, let's go."

Caught up in the compliment, Jared nodded wordlessly and shortened his stride, walking alongside Jensen but still a careful distance away. He felt like he was fourteen years old again, a freshman in high school headed for the miserable, awkward night of his first date-that is, if his first date had been with a gorgeous, friendly senior. If only, Jared thought. His first date had been a disaster: at his mother's insistence, he'd asked Angelina Wimberley, the girl who sat in front of him in biology, to an up-coming school dance called the Snow Ball. The title alone was stupid, considering there was no snow in San Antonio, and the dance had been worse. Angelina had disappeared into a gaggle of girls, returning a little while later with Will Fallows, quarterback of the varsity football team and certified Heartthrob. Jared, wishing he was the one in Will's arms, had plastered himself to the gym wall and watched them dance.

"Jared?" said Jensen, and Jared realised they'd stopped walking and were now standing outside a bar. Jensen had paused at the door, holding it open with one arm. He looked confused and Jared felt more than stupid.

"Sorry, spaced for a moment there," Jared said, following Jensen inside with an apologetic smile. Though it was a busy night and there was a line for tables, they didn't have to wait to be seated: as soon as a nearby waiter saw Jensen, they were ushered to a secluded table in the back. The only illumination the bar provided were a few sparsely placed lamps; the dark corner they were in and the singular candle on their table resulted in Jared having to virtually feel his way into his seat. The waiter hovered nearby, and the image of Jensen showing up regularly, on the arm of a client, came to Jared without warning. He was viciously reminded him of just why Jensen had asked him to a beer-as an apology for the terrible night they'd had.

Jared stared down at his menu and quietly ordered the first beer with a name he recognised. When the waiter left after taking Jensen's order and Jared was forced to give up his menu, they sat in silence for a second before he saw Jensen fidget out of the corner of his eye, and then they both started talking.

"Last night, man-"

"I'm sorry about-"

Jensen looked as though he might have been regretting opening his mouth, so when he said, "You go first," Jared didn't argue, even though continuing that line of conversation was really the last thing he wanted to do. "Last night," he said again, "I made such an idiot of myself, um, I'm so sorry. I-"

Jensen waved him off. "Look, don't apologise. I made an assumption and I just, well." He looked flushed and awkward, and neither of them had bottles to hide behind. "I'm the one who should be apologising. But, uh-" Just then, the waiter arrived with their beers, and Jensen took his with a grateful smile. "Let's just forget about it, okay?"

Jared nodded almost too vehemently and took a long pull from his bottle.

"So have you always wanted to be a writer?" Jensen asked a moment later.

Surprised by the question, Jared stopped tracing curlicues in the condensation gathering on the surface of the table and looked up. He struggled for an answer for a moment, thrown off by the genuine curiosity in Jensen's eyes, before finally saying, "Um, not always. Actually, I wanted to act for a while, when I was about twelve. Took classes and everything." He shook his head, thinking back on his brother's constant teasing and Megan's wide-eyed admiration. He sort of missed the days when she followed him everywhere.

"What made you change your mind?"

Jared flapped a hand in the air. "Oh, you know. Wasn't my calling, figured that out when I was fourteen. Born writer." He grinned. "It's the English teacher in my veins."

Jensen's answering smile had less of a shy edge than the one that came before it. "Funny story," he said, "I wanted to be a physical therapist for a while. Came out here to find a job in that field…" He trailed off there, but Jared could guess at what he'd been going to say: but I found Satine.

"So you went into," prostitution, "acting instead?"

Jensen rolled his shoulders in a shrug. Discomfort radiated off of him in waves. "Or something," he said wryly.

Jared gave a weak hiccup of laughter and fell silent, hand wrapping tight around the cool neck of his beer. He nursed it quietly, listening to the hum of the football game on the televisions at the bar, and not long after that Jensen asked suddenly, "You got much family back in San Antonio?"

Jensen looked so nervous it would have been funny in any other situation, but Jared was so cautious of the thin ice they were on that he didn't comment on it. "Yeah," he said. "You leave behind much in Dallas?"

Jensen shrugged again. "Loving mother, failed actor father, pain-in-the-ass older brother, annoying kid sister," he said, counting on his fingers.

"I hear you, man," Jared laughed. "Me, I've got a teacher for a mom, an accountant for a father, and a pain-in-the-ass older brother and annoying kid sister of my very own. Guess I shouldn't really be calling Megan a kid anymore, though. She'd be pissed."

"Yeah, Mack's the same," Jensen said, scratching the back of his neck. His movements were slowly becoming less stiff, more comfortable. "Twenty-two and just as violent as she was when she was freakin' four."

"Megan's eighteen. You know she kicked me out of my own house? Probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her."

"Well." Jensen's lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile, and he tipped his beer towards Jared. "I'm grateful to her, then. Got the movie a talented writer."

Jared shrugged, flushing with the compliment. "Ah, thanks," he mumbled into his bottle.

"If we do this right, just imagine. We'd be in the headlines," Jensen said, almost too quiet for Jared to hear. He was rolling his beer between his hands and smiling absently. "You know, 'Indie film shot in a month tops critics' lists.' 'Unknown writer headed to the top…'"

Jared was immediately reminded of Megan's encouragement. The paparazzi would be all over you-is he? Isn't he? 'Padalecki caught pants down with a mysterious man!' He glanced discreetly at the mysterious man across the table who he thankfully hadn't been caught with and ducked his head in embarrassment. "Yeah," he said, finally. "So, what I'm wondering is if your brother is as big a jerk-off as mine?"

He knew that Jensen couldn't have missed his graceless, unsubtle-as-all-hell subject change, but Jensen was as gentlemanly as ever and simply said, "Bigger, for sure," and it went from there. The tension gradually eased until they were laughing again, and the clock struck eleven as Jared was finishing his lukewarm first beer. Jensen insisted on paying and Jared didn't protest on account of being a starving artist. "Thank you," he said, though, as they walked to the door. Jensen turned and smiled at him, an honest, toothy smile, and while Jared had no idea whether the night had been successful or not, he was sure that, awkwardness aside, he definitely wanted to do it again. And soon.

"We should do this again, sometime," he said without thinking. He snapped his mouth shut before anything else could be said, but uncertainty was already worming inside him. "Maybe?" When Jensen didn't respond, Jared racked his brains for some way to come out of this looking cool and blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "'Cause you know, I don't put out on the first date."

The instant it was out of his mouth, Jared regretted it. His heart ground to a halt for an instant and then all the blood rushed to his face. "Uh-"

But Jensen was laughing. "Okay," he said, and his tone was light, the answer easy. "Sure, why not."

Jared grinned, half out of sheer relief. "Cool," he said, a little breathlessly. "Awesome. You want company on your way back to Satine? 'Cause I'm headed that way anyway, so I thought, uh. You are going back there, right?"

Jensen nodded, checking his watch. "Yeah. I have an early start tomorrow."

Jared tried not to think of what he meant by that, and they walked in (what he hoped was) companionable silence back to the club. Once they were at the gate, standing awkwardly opposite each other in direct sight of the bouncers, Jared excused himself as quickly and quietly as possible, backing up so far that he nearly tripped off the curb and into oncoming traffic. He knew Jensen was watching him, probably wondering what the hell his problem was, but Jared had to get out of there before his mind could go places it really shouldn't, like thinking about an appropriate end to a date-namely, a goodnight kiss.

-
"That was the most awkward night of your life," Mike guessed when Jared walked through the door of Chad's apartment.

"No," Jared corrected him, gratefully collapsing in the space that a sleepy-looking Tom made for him on the couch. "That would be senior prom. But this still ranks pretty high."

Mike winced in sympathy but didn't put down the controller. "Ouch. I'll have to tell Jenny that he has no skills outside of the sack," he said, deftly shrugging Chad's drooling maw off his shoulder while nearly taking Jared's eye out with a complicated swerve meant to keep him on the road. Instead, it sent his kart careening off the edge of a cliff. Mario wailed all the way down. Cursing, Mike threw the controller down.

"He seemed-shy," Jared said, picking up Chad's fallen controller at Mike's insistence.

"You bet," Tom said around a yawn. "Jensen's about the most shy person I know."

On the TV, Peach sent Mario crashing into a bomb. Jared didn't have the energy for his usual Peach-is-a-badass rant, so he just sat back against the couch and distractedly played out the rest of the race. Mike was scowling, trying to get back in the lead and kicking Chad's head in frustration when he lost. This caused Chad to wake with a start, after which he proceeded to bitch at Mike, tell him and Tom to get out, and then crawl towards the bedroom, where Sophia was dead to the world.

Jared won three more races before Tom and Mike really did clear out. Long after they were gone, Jared stayed slumped on the couch, going over the evening in his head. It had gone pretty well compared to the nightmarish situations Jared's brain had prepared him for. He just needed to acquire some social skills in the next few hours and maybe the next time would go well enough that Jensen would gladly agree to go out on a real date with him.

-
The next morning, Jared was woken at eight by the Spice Girls repeatedly telling him what they really wanted. He grappled blindly for his cell phone without surfacing from the covers; the caller ID read 'Mike', but Tom was the one on the other end of the line.

"Hey," he said. "Mike's still griping about Mario Kart." And then, without any hesitation, or even an attempt at a smooth segue, he added, "I've been talking to Duke."

When Jared got off the phone half an hour later, he had some new ideas and a fresh dose of motivation pulling him towards the waiting laptop. "A really good writer can write a screenplay in six months," Chad told him wisely from behind the milk carton, "or one week. Make it so, Jare-bear."

Jared did. Or at least he tried.

"I'm making progress," he said when Chad returned from a brief foray into the outside world, bringing beer and chips and distracting video games. Three hours later, the huge Lays bag was empty, his lips were puffy and pink from salt, and his research on the Moulin Rouge had lapsed into playing Madden.

"I'm working," he insisted when Sophia gave him the hairy eyeball. His laptop was open in front of him, the Google logo in the browser in front of him decorated with a starry midnight sky and spaceships of all kinds. He didn't know what the occasion was, but it looked awesome. A second tab was open to a YouTube video about a squid with a knack for camouflage. The Word document containing the script was minimised in the corner.

"This is going really well," he said to Mike when he and Tom showed up halfway through the afternoon. Mike tried to challenge him to another game of Mario Kart, but Jared refused, motivated in part by Tom's foot grounding into his toe but mostly-definitely mostly-by his iron will to keep working. After all, he was in his element, his comfort zone: splayed out on an old couch with a screenplay growing at his fingertips. He'd be zooming through it in no time.

"No, I can talk," he said when Jensen called in the middle of the climax. He closed his computer, the lights dimming on the dancer and the poet.

"So last night sort of sucked," Jensen said. Even through the line, he sounded tired.

Jared let out a shaky laugh and moved his computer to the table, running a hand through his hair as he stood up and stepped over Chad and Mike. Sophia wagged a disapproving finger at him from the front door, where she was pulling on her coat over a pair of grey scrubs and headed to work. "Tell me about it," he said to Jensen, waving her away.

"But I was thinking," Jensen said haltingly. He paused for long enough that Jared began to wonder if they'd been disconnected, then said in one great rush, "You said you wanted to do it again and, um, actually… I had a lot of fun last night. Best time I've had in a while. So let's-uh, give it a shot. I promise I have some social skills."

Jared was so ridiculously pleased by this that he did a little jump, complete with a fist-pump, in the middle of Chad's living room. "Me too," he said, trying not to sound too excited. Suave, even.

"Look, I know this French place-"

Completely bypassing his long-time hatred for French cuisine, Jared all but shouted into the receiver, "Sounds great!" When there was only startled silence from Jensen's end, Jared let out a squeak of nervous laughter and cleared his throat. He could save bashing his head against the wall for later. "Um, that is… cool."

"Okay," Jensen said. It sounded like he might have been laughing. "How about Friday? Meet you outside Satine at seven, like before?"

"Friday," Jared echoed. There were fucking butterflies in his stomach.

"See you then."

"Yeah, um, bye-" Jared started, startled by the click of the line going dead halfway through his sentence. Disgusted with himself, Jared held the phone away from his ear and resisted the urge to chuck it out the window. Smooth, Padalecki. Real smooth.

When he sat back down on the couch, Chad turned and looked at him like he had two heads. "You got a date or something? Who the fuck was that? Wait, don't tell me-"

Jared stole his controller. "It was just, uh, Jensen," he said, going for nonchalant. It didn't come out nearly as offhand as he wanted it to. "We're hanging out Friday."

Chad gaped at him, the game forgotten. "Staring at him, Jay, that's one thing," he said. "Now you're dating?"

Jared flushed and briefly considered telling Chad just how much he would like that. Then he thought about the Pretty Woman jokes that might crop up as a result and made a show of rolling his eyes. "We're not dating."

Even Mike had put down his controller (but not before pausing the game, of course). "Are you sure? You guys were pretty buddy-buddy Saturday night."

"What, when I made a complete ass of myself?" Jared raked his hands through his hair, embarrassed and a little exasperated.

"Then there was last night-" Chad nodded slowly, as if he'd arrived at a great realisation, and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Oh man, you're dating. Because he nearly accidentally sucked you off."

Before that moment, Jared had been surprised and grateful that Chad hadn't made more fun of him about that evening than he had. Though Jared had been expecting to never hear the end of it, Chad had barely brought it up at all since Jared had told him the full story. Spoke too soon, he thought with a sigh, flipping Chad off. He couldn't find it in him to be too pissed, though, since his hopes were skyrocketing with every mention of the word 'date'.

Mike was still scrutinising him. "I think you've got yourself a boyfriend, J-dog."

Jared flushed with pleasure, only just managing to bite back the You think so? that was threatening to spill from his lips. Instead, he shrugged. "Jensen's a nice guy," he said coolly. "I like hanging out with him."

Chad gave him a long, hard look. "I've known you too long for this bullshit," he announced. "You can't put anything past me!"

Jared toyed with the tassels of one of the couch cushions. Maybe they were right, and he did have a date. Elation bubbled up in his throat, so he cast around for a change of subject before he could give himself away. "Dude, it's eight o'clock on a Monday and all you've done today is sit around and play video games," he griped, pointing the controller at Chad. "Don't you have a job? I don't remember you mentioning one in your calls."

Chad looked affronted. "'Course I have a goddamn job," he said, and gestured around at Tom and Mike. "We all bartend at Satine. Well, okay, I'm a waiter. But the tips are good. Just gotta wear my assless chaps, you know." Grinning, Chad wiggled his body in a way probably meant to resemble a shimmy as Jared tried to wipe the image of Chad in assless chaps from his mind.

"Oh." Now that he mentioned it, Jared did sort of remember him talking about waiting tables. "Wait, is that where you guys met?"

"We were given the job of showing him the ropes," Tom explained. He shook his head. "You should've seen him. Looked terrified out of his wits. Thought he was going to run out on us at any moment. I mean, it didn't help that Mike was wearing his pink short-shorts, but we didn't exactly get warned that we were going to get stuck with the newbie."

Jared snickered as an amusing thought occurred to him. "So, let me get this straight. Chad, you're new in town, no friends, looking to hit it big. And so the first thing you do is take a job interview at a gay club, all on your own."

"Fucker, I needed the money!" Chad protested, cheeks bright red. "Satine pays real good! And plus, I'm not going to discriminate-" He threw up his arms and ambled to his feet. "Good thing you reminded me, assface. My shift starts in twenty."

Mike checked his phone and groaned. "Man, is it that late already?"

"Jared, you want to tag along?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, maybe you'll get to see your love monkey!" Chad shouted from the bathroom.

Jared rolled his eyes. "No, thank you," he said to Tom, settling back on the couch with his laptop. "I really ought to be working. Got kind of distracted, you know how it is."

"Right." Tom clapped Jared on the shoulder and peered at the computer screen. "You making good progress?"

Jared thought back on the day and winced. He had been ragging on Chad for doing fuck all, but in reality, he hadn't gotten much done himself. The outline was shaky at best and the climax was a half-written jumble of stage directions and shitty dialog. He had a lot of work to do. "Um, yeah," he answered finally. "Sort of. Okay, no. But once I have the house to myself-no distractions, you know?"

"You're a lifesaver, Jared," Tom said gratefully, undaunted. "This looks great."

Jared went back to fiddling with the tassels on the cushion beside him. "Um, thanks," he said, a little shy. "But I was thinking, and you know, I sort of made it up on the spot. The idea, I mean. And, like… this obviously isn't going to be a big studio piece-not that indie movies can't be great; I mean, hello, Reservoir Dogs-"

"Don't stress," Mike said easily, returning from the kitchen with a box of cookies in hand. His jacket was slung over one arm. "Satine's closed during the day. It'll make a great Moulin Rouge."

Heartened by their enthusiasm, Jared nodded and flexed his fingers against the keyboard. "I hope so," he said. "Have a good night, guys."

"See you later, loser," Chad said, reappearing all dressed in black (though thankfully without the assless chaps). There was no bite to it, and he schooled his pointy features into something like a smile as he pulled Tom and Mike out the door. Jared heard them clattering down the stairs, singing loud and off-key from the moment the door shut; then they were gone, and Jared was alone with his laptop.

Jared abandoned the climax and returned to the beginning of the story. 'Love,' he wrote, envisioning the poet pouring his heart out to his eccentric new friends. 'Above all things, I believe in love.'

He had a script to write and a date on Friday.

Coming to LA had definitely been a good idea.

-
Jared woke at the crack of dawn on Friday with a scene and a half left and found it pissing with rain. Water was dripping through cracks in Chad's ceiling, filling the room with the steady plink plink rhythm of water against a metal bucket. Sophia had probably put it out before leaving for the hospital that morning.

The dismal weather outside seemed to go right along with the scene he was finishing. The poet was a mess, his heart in tatters after the dancer left him for the investor. Jared felt about as far from that as could be; with his date with Jensen only a few hours away, he was up on cloud nine. Or at least he hoped it was a date.

He'd started to agonise over this Wednesday morning. Jensen might not think it's a date, his mind bemoaned. Jensen might find you horrendously unattractive and annoying and stupid, and just because he saved your ass once doesn't mean he's going to go out with you.

The worse his doubts got, the more agitated Jared became. It was reflected in the script, and he knew he would have to do major rewrites later. Chad did nothing to help, instead offhandedly telling Jared when he got back from work all about the guests Jensen had been taking up to his room that particular evening. Chad did it a third time Friday afternoon, just as Jared was expanding the dialog where the poet screams at his best friend for trying to teach him about love, and Jared lobbed a box of Pringles at him.

"No, seriously," Chad said, catching the addictive snack before it could clock him in the head. "The guy was, like, sixty. But he was in really good shape. He looked sort of like George Clooney. Do you think it was him?"

Jared massaged his temples. "George Clooney is in his forties, Chad. And no."

Chad ambled over and clapped Jared good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Aw, Jare-bear, you know I'm just kidding," he said with a mouth full of Pringles. "Haven't seen Jenny-boy take anyone up to his room in a while. How's the script coming?"

Jared hunched over his laptop, frowning. "Fine," he said shortly, not appreciating the joke. During Chad's months-long absence, Jared had forgotten what a douche the guy could be. "I'm nearly done, actually."

Chad bent over the back of the couch to squint at the screen. "No shit?" he said, chewing loud and obnoxious in Jared's ear. "Dude, this is going to be so awesome."

"I think so," Jared said, cracking a smile. Okay, so Chad was a cool douche, sometimes.

"Isn't your date with Jensen tonight?"

"It's not a date," Jared said automatically, thinking, I hope it is.

"Sure it's not." Chad straightened and pivoted away, still munching on the Pringles. "Hey, I've got the early shift tonight. Starts at six. You want to come with?"

"I'm not meeting Jensen until seven," Jared protested, knowing where Chad's mind was headed.

"Yeah, but you can help me open up and shit. Mr. Morgan wanted me to move some boxes or something. And Jay-bird, you're so big and strong…" Chad batted his eyelashes, puckered his lips, and made kissing noises until Jared clapped a hand over his face and nodded, just to get Chad to stop.

"Okay! Okay, whatever. I'll do it." With a grin, Jared flexed an arm and added, "But only 'cause I'm so nice and you're too weak to pick up a few measly cardboard boxes."

Of course, they weren't just a few measly cardboard boxes. More like massive metal filing cabinets that felt like they were filled with bricks and needed to be moved from Jeff's old office to his new one, which was on the other side of the building and up a steep, gruelling flight of stairs. "They won't fit in the elevator," whined Chad, half-heartedly pushing one ahead of him, and then proceeded to vanish. He was waiting in Jeff's office when Jared finally arrived, his cabinet tucked away in the corner as he went through Jeff's miniature fridge.

"What took you so long?" giggled Chad. His laughter turned into a startled squawk when Jared advanced on him with fists raised. "Man, the elevator only fit one at a time!" he yelped, backing away. "Otherwise I would have totally let you ride up with me."

Jared dropped his fists, too exhausted for the fight. "I hate you," he grumbled, collapsing into the lush armchair behind Jeff's desk. He pulled his grey t-shirt from his sweat-soaked body, trying to cool himself off.

Chad flipped open his cell phone and flinched. "You're going to hate me more in a second," he said, a little guiltily. "It's seven fifteen."

Jared looked down at himself and groaned. He hadn't expected the labour to be quite so taxing, so he'd just worn his planned outfit: dress pants again, because they were going to a restaurant this time and he didn’t want to be kicked out for wearing jeans, and a comfortable grey shirt that he knew he looked awesome in, because Mike checked him out when he walked out wearing it (which, yeah, was sort of creepy, but flattering all the same). Now he was dusty and dirty and sweaty, and late to boot. Jensen was probably waiting for him downstairs.

Jared tried to rub a stain off the knee of his pants with his thumb, inadvertently making it both darker and bigger. He swore a blue streak and peeled his damp hair off his forehead. "Well?" he said, sarcastically. "How do I look?"

"Gee, Jay, you're getting awful worked up over this. You sure it's not a date?" Chad teased, grinning. The snickering stopped at Jared's death-glare, and he said, "Uh, you look like shit and I can smell you from here. But you never know-maybe Jenny likes that?"

Jared threw up his arms in exasperation and annoyance. "Later," he said, pointing an accusing finger as he backed out of the door. "I'm going to kill-" The unsaid 'you' became a surprised 'oof' as Jared collided with someone coming in the room behind him-someone who was nearly as tall as he was, and sounded a lot like Jeff when they said, "What in the hell-?"

Jeff poked his head around Jared's tall frame. "Oh, Murray, it's just you," he said, looking around. "Hello there, Mr. Palidecki."

"Padalecki," Jared said meekly, stepping aside as Jeff came in. After that first disastrous meeting and the following one Sunday morning, Jeff hadn't said much to Jared, more often directing his messages through Tom. They hadn't even had a proper introduction.

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. "What a spectacle this has been," he said simply. "Do you have time to sit down?"

Jared floundered for an answer. No, he really, really didn't, but this was Jeff Morgan, the guy who was putting his hard-earned cash and time and whatever into the film-but Jensen was waiting downstairs, probably wondering where the hell Jared was, probably thinking he'd been stood up.

Then, by some miracle, Jeff blanched and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, it'll have to wait till another time." He quickly moved past Jared and Chad and over to his desk, where he began to rifle through his drawers while muttering about a Ms. Parker and a "goddamn last-minute meeting". In the middle of leafing through a sheaf of paper, he glanced up at Chad and said distractedly, "Murray, would you happen to know why Jensen's been standing at the door for the past twenty minutes? He waiting for someone?"

Jared gave a start and babbled, "Excuse me," before dashing out the door, leaving Chad in Jeff's office to either tell the truth or make something up. He took the stairs two at a time, running past a shorter guy in a cowboy hat waiting by the banister, and made it down the front entrance in record time. Jensen was standing just outside the gate, looking sort of disappointed as he talked with the bouncer he'd called Jim.

"Sorry," Jared said breathlessly, screeching to a halt in front of them. He couldn't help the pleased flush at the way Jensen's face brightened at the sight of him.

"Thought you'd stood me up," Jensen joked. His gaze flicked downwards, roving over Jared's body for just an instant before he wet his lips and looked back up. He smoothed down his pressed, beautifully tailored shirt and smiled, but it looked sort of strained. "Shall we go?"

Jared knew that Jensen was way too gentlemanly to question Jared's state of disarray, so Jared picked at his sweaty shirt in embarrassment and said, "Chad roped me into moving some cabinets for Mr. Morgan, and then suddenly it was, you know, quarter past and I was sweaty and gross and didn't have time to go home and change. I still can if you want me to-?"

Jensen held up a hand and Jared shut up quick. "No," Jensen said. "You look-it's fine."

Jared grinned. "Okay," he said. "Lead the way."

Jensen smiled back and walked around the back of the club, to a sparsely occupied parking lot. He headed straight for an ugly, blocky black thing and directed Jared into the backseat. Then Jensen climbed in beside him and Jared, confused, didn't even get the chance to put two and two together before Jensen started talking, and not to him.

"Clif, we're headed to La Pomme de Terre tonight," he said, and a big hulking monster of a man in the front seat that Jared had somehow not noticed turned around and growled, "Okay."

Jared shrank back in his seat a little and Jensen laughed at him outright. It was deep and rumbling and different from all the times Jared had heard him laugh before-sudden and surprised and beautiful. "This is Clif, my driver," Jensen said as his laughter subsided. "Clif, this is Jared Padalecki, the writer?"

The massive monster man broke into a smile, and he went from terrifying bodyguard-cum-chauffeur to friendliest-looking person in the world. "Heard a lot about you from Jensen," he said. "Nice to meet you."

Jared said his bit in return and didn't care that he sounded a little robotic; his mind was stuck on the fact that Jensen had been talking about him. 'A lot.' He snuck a look to the right as Clif pulled out of the parking lot; Jensen was staring resolutely down at his lap, the tips of his ears tinged pink. Jared couldn't stifle his smile and was grinning for the full five minutes it took to get to the restaurant.

"I always thought it was funny that this place is called La Pomme de Terre," Jensen said, complete with flowery French accent, as they climbed out of the car. At Jared's obvious lack of understanding, he clarified, "It means 'the potato'. Nothing fancy."

This tickled Jared probably more than it should've; a minute later, he was still collapsed against the side of the car, giggling with La Pomme de Terre looming over him, polished and teeming with rich patrons behind tinted windows. "Potato," he repeated, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "What idiot named it that?"

Jensen was smiling at him, really smiling, with no trace of the embarrassed pity that Jared got from Chad when he was like this. "That's what I said," he said, waving goodbye to Clif and steering Jared inside. "Maybe some idiot with our sense of humour?"

"So what've you told Clif about me?" Jared said, trying for sly, as they sat down at their table.

Jensen coloured. "You're the new writer," he said, ticking things off his fingers, "you're from Texas like me, you're talented, and that Chad cannot be as straight as he says he is."

Jared raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Do you have any idea how much he talked about you in the week before you arrived?" Jensen asked, shaking his head. "Every day, I'd come downstairs, and he'd ambush me and start babbling about this Jared guy. 'He's my best friend.' 'He's actually Bigfoot.' 'The best writer ever.' 'My personal Jesus.' 'You'll love him.'"

Jared immediately felt a pang of guilt for thinking badly of Chad so often, but fought it down in favour of laughing as he picked up his menu. Unfortunately for him (and he really should've seen this coming and studied up in the last few days), it was all in French and the only word he recognised was 'anana' which he was pretty sure was 'pineapple'. There were a few cognates that he guessed at, but he ended up gazing at it blankly, chewing at his lower lip and trying to find something that wasn't too expensive.

"Jared?" Jensen said, and Jared realised he'd completely dropped the conversation and had been staring silently at his menu for the past few minutes.

Jared looked up to apologise, but was struck dumb by the agonised expression on Jensen's face. "I'm sorry," Jensen said, fiddling with his cuffs. "I'm talking too much. Maybe I shouldn't have-I mean," he let out a shaky little laugh, "I don't really do this. And I'm just making this more awkward, aren't I?"

"No, it's not that!" Jared waved both hands as if he could dispel the thought himself. "I was just trying to think of what to order, honest. Dude, I'm the one who asked you out again in the first place," and then it was out there and he'd said it and he couldn't take it back. Asked you out. He might as well have asked if they could go steady.

To his surprise and relief, Jensen either hadn't picked up on that or didn't care. (Or he'd guessed at Jared's dating scheme from the start, which was an embarrassing thought.) He didn't look very convinced by Jared's protests, though, and his face was drawn in a weird mix of wonderment and scepticism. "How are you so okay with this?" he asked softly.

Jared stared at him for a moment, reaching for an answer that wouldn't come. "Well," he said, a moment later, beginning to tear up his napkin. I've been trying not to think about it. "Um, I figured there's, like, two Jensens. And don't laugh at me, okay? But there's like, you know, Jensen number one, who… well, yeah, Saturday, you know what happened; you were there and all. But then there's, err, Jensen number two, who is, um, sitting with me now and is… funny and great to talk to," and he only realised as he was saying it that it was true.

He finally looked up from his (now shredded) napkin to see Jensen gazing at him, eyes sharp but expression unreadable. Silence settled over them like a blanket, but then finally, blessedly, Jensen broke it with a quiet, "Oh." Then he smiled, wide and toothy. "You're pretty sharp."

Jared felt heat crawling up his neck. "Thanks," he said, leaning forward across the table a bit. The menu lay forgotten underneath his elbows.

Jensen sort of mimicked the movement, his eyes hovering somewhere below Jared's collar, the trace of a smile still on his lips.

"Can I take your order?" asked a waitress, depositing tall glasses of water on their table.

Jared nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion, but Jensen didn't startle at all; he just leaned back into his seat, picked up his menu, and said, "Yeah, thanks. Jared, I'm sure you'd love the escargot."

Jared wrinkled his nose. "Dude, gross. Isn't that snails?" He scanned his menu for a second before handing it to the waitress in defeat. "Um, can I have a steak? Medium rare, with some, um… frites. Whatever those are."

Jensen laughed and said, "They're fries, man." He pressed his menu into the waitress' hand, adding, "A steak for me as well, please."

The girl smiled indulgently at them and pirouetted away. Jared waited until she was a safe distance away and then said, "So, what came first-physical therapy or acting?" The moment after he said it, Jared wondered if that was veering too close to the whole Satine issue, but he dismissed that thought when Jensen seemed to really consider the question, rolling the edge of his glass from back and forth across his bottom lip. Jared tried not to watch too obviously.

"Acting," Jensen said finally. "I was president of the Drama Club in high school." A nostalgic, unhappy smile twisted his lips. "But I was also on the football team, so all the macho asshole jocks didn't really know what to do with me. Called me a fairy until I beat their ass on the field."

"Ah," said Jared.

"But then I figured, you know, what's the chance of me making it big? So physical therapy it was." Jensen paused. "Jesus, I really know how to kill a conversation, don't I?"

"No!" Jared said, because he had this humiliating thing going on in his head where nothing that Jensen said was anything short of amazing. He smiled and probably looked like a total moron. "I like listening to you," he added, like his mouth was linked to his heart and not to his rational, smart brain that would've stopped him from saying something as sappy as that.

Jensen's cheeks reddened. "Um, thank you?" he said, laughing a little.

Before Jared had the chance to make another stupid comment, he stuffed a slice of the bread their waitress had brought them in his mouth and said between bites, "I have one scene left to write." He swallowed. "In the script, I mean."

Jensen stared at him goggle-eyed, bread lifted halfway to his mouth. "Jesus," he said, impressed. "You work fast."

"A really good writer can write a screenplay in six months-or one week," Jared recited, until he realised that he was quoting Chad. Then he busied himself with buttering another slice. "I mean, obviously, this isn't the final draft, but-"

"Will you tell me about it?" Jensen asked, leaning forward and propping his chin up on his elbows.

Jared did. He filled the evening with talk of the poet and the dancer's secret romance, the investor's jealousy-driven plots, and the still-to-be-written happy ending. Jensen smiled and laughed at all the right places, putting in suggestions that were helpful enough to make Jared wonder if Jensen had ever dabbled in writing himself. Even after he finished his story and they left the restaurant, the stupid butterflies in Jared's stomach refused to go away.

Before they parted, standing alone in Satine's parking lot, Jared summed up every ounce of courage he had to say something along the lines of I had a great time tonight and I would really like to date you, but what came out was, "Souhgoodtimeandrealdate."

"Excuse me?" said Jensen, his hand stilling mid-motion. It stayed in his hair, frozen while tugging it into impressive, gravity-defying spikes.

Jared shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Um," he said. "I was thinking."

"Good job," Jensen teased.

"Shut up," Jared said automatically, no heat or life to it. He scratched the back of his head. "I was thinking that I wanted to take you out, um, next week or something. You know, dinner, movie." Surprise and something he couldn't define shifted on the planes of Jensen's face, so Jared rushed to say, "Of course, if you don't want to, I completely understand. I just thought it would be, um, fun to… go on a date. Or not, maybe. I mean. Yeah." Jared scuffed the toe of his sneaker into the pavement, feeling like a total tool. "Sorry," he said quickly, making the mistake of looking back up, "I never realised how socially retarded I-oh."

His answer was there, in Jensen's face. He knew what was coming before Jensen said it.

"Jared, I don't-"

"Oh god," Jared burst out, stricken. Disappointment was pooling in his stomach. "Don't say it."

Jensen's lips curved ever-so-slightly upwards. "No, man, let me finish," he said. Jared obediently quietened, and they stood there for a moment in silence. Jensen was absently drumming his fingers along his arm, lips parted as if he was searching for what to say. "I, um," he said finally, carefully. "I haven't dated in a long time. Because of my job, you know?"

Jared's shoulders sagged and his softly-spoken, "Yeah, I understand," sounded pathetic and forced even to his ears. He racked his brains for a Plan B that wasn't there. Do I go for the puppy dog eyes? That always worked on Megan. The thought of just letting it go, of dropping the subject and walking away, made Jared's heart constrict in a weird, unfamiliar way. He took a deep breath to try and get it to go away. "I should go," he said on the exhale, quiet and rushed.

"But," Jensen continued, ignoring him, "I really like you. You're, uh, you know." He gesticulated meaninglessly, looking embarrassed. "Funny. Nice. So, okay. I mean, I don't know why you would want to date someone who-"

Jared held up a hand to stop him. His heart was in his throat, beating a mile a minute. "Wait. You're saying yes?"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said, and gave Jared a small, sweet smile. "Goodnight, Jared."

Jared realised he was standing at the curb in front of Satine's front gate and Jensen was standing just outside the iron bars. How or when they'd gotten there from the parking lot, he couldn't recall. It had gotten lost at some point after Jared started his awkward babbling but before Jensen said yes. "Goodnight," Jared echoed, unable to keep from grinning when Jensen turned just inside the door to blow him an exaggerated, campy kiss.

part four