the night could just bend on forever
up on dry land
i saw you waiting by the roadside
you didn't know that i was watching
now you know
let it all go
Things have been ending for a while now.
-
After they finish shooting the finale, Jared throws a party for everyone on the show at his house. It's a little wild. They're done for good, and there's too much drinking, some crying, and definitely more than a few last minute hook-ups, some of which have been on the back burner for years now. Jeff even shows up, and a few hours in, Jared finds him and Jensen standing on one of the tables in the backyard, belting out Carry on my wayward son to applause and catcalls. Jared falls asleep on his living room floor with a bottle of Sleeman's still in his hand. He has no idea how, or when, or if everyone else leaves.
It's a pretty good night.
Somehow they all make it to the ceremonial dismantling of the set the next afternoon. Jensen wakes him up by almost tripping over him and then manhandling him towards the shower. He's not sure how to feel. They've had months to think about it, but they've also been busy. Once on set, Jared mostly smiles and watches; he's a little hung over and more than a little sad. Eric's giving away props and memorabilia, and Jared finds himself missing things he was sure he would be glad to never see again. It's kind of stupid, like he hadn't known it was ending, like he hadn't been making plans and getting ready for months.
For Jeannie and Shannon, someone had taken down all the photos hanging up in the make-up trailer and made proper albums out of them, complete with bonus commentary from everyone featured in it. Merlin gets the magic fingers coin deposit. Eric hands Jim the Colt, and he looks surprised - a little embarrassed, but pleased. Of course Misha gets the trench, and the knife. It winds down, and soon it's just him and Jensen, who's nowhere in sight, left.
"Okay, for these two upstanding gentlemen," Eric pauses and the rest of the cast and crew laugh and clap, "we've got a special joint gift. You've both done a lot to make these past five years great for everyone involved, so all of us want to say thanks with a little something we know you've been eyeing since day one."
Jared's still looking around for Jensen when he hears the rumble of an engine. The crowd parts and the stunt Impala pulls up, gleaming and smug. It comes to a full stop, the driver's side door opens, and Jensen steps out, grinning big and looking right at Jared.
All he can say is, "Dude."
Jensen spins the keys around his finger and catches them in his palm. This is the Jensen Jared likes the most, the one he doesn't see all that often: bright, mischievous, reckless. This Jensen can convince the world of anything. "C'mon, man. We're going for a long ride." Just as Jared begins to realize that this has been planned, Jim steps through the crowd and loads two duffel bags into the trunk.
Sometimes, Jensen still surprises him.
Jared thinks about it. His agent has been calling him constantly about three different scripts that he's yet to read. He dropped Harley and Sadie off at his parents' place a two weeks ago. Jensen is supposed to be at a second screen test for some Michael Mann production in a week and a half. Jared shipped most of his stuff out last week, but his house is still trashed. His fichus is gonna die. He doesn't really know what he wants to do with all this time he suddenly has. They're all waiting on him.
He says, "I'm in."
As they pull away, everyone applauds, and someone blows a horn. Jensen waves out of the window like some fucking beauty pageant queen, and Jared can see Jeff with his head thrown back, laughing. There's two six packs and a box of cigars from him in the backseat. The excitement's building, and he feels younger, like when he was eighteen and impulse was a good enough reason for anything. He looks at Jensen, and he's smiling, calm, fingers tapping on the steering wheel to some song in his head.
"Why do I feel like someone should have written Just married! on the rear window?"
Jensen laughs, and just turns up the volume on the cassette deck before hitting play. The speakers crackle and Waylon Jennings howls, cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold. Jared leans his head back into the headrest and smiles. He feels lighter than he has in years.
-
In November, Genevieve broke up with him. They had been dating for a little over a year. He flew to L.A. before Thanksgiving, where she was sharing a place in Silver Lake with a couple of friends, who had all gone home for the holiday. She waited for him in the airport, and smiled when she saw him coming; he kissed her and took her hand. Genevieve looked good, tan in that natural way. Her hair was shorter than it had been when he last saw her. It brushed her shoulders.
That night, after dinner, he moved to kiss her again, a hand playing with the hem of her shirt, the waist of her jeans. She leaned back, and Jared knew something was off. “Look, Jared. I think we need to figure some things out.”
She said that, and then she said, I don’t see this going anywhere, and I’m really sorry if you thought it was, and I thought it was kind of obvious ever since we got together, I mean, you’d just gotten out of something so serious. She said, This past year has been good, you know? I just don’t think we should let it go on any longer.
Genevieve had looked at him like she was worried. Jared hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe he should have: she had never met his parents, never come home with him. They had never really fought, not over big things, and Jared had thought that maybe it meant they just fit each other that well, but maybe what it really meant was that neither of them had been invested enough. Jared’s mom still called Sandy every other month. He was twenty-seven now, which wasn’t old at all, but some part of him had always thought he would’ve found someone already. Jared knew he was the kind of guy who tended to think that every relationship he was in would be it, the one, and it always hurt when it wasn't.
Still. She was right.
They slept in the same bed that night. He held her, and she let him; there would be a lot of things Jared would miss about Genevieve, but they were things he knew he would get over and forget. He looked at and tried to commit to memory the line of her shoulder, her neck, her hands. Soon, someone else was going to have that. Someone else was going to give her flowers just because and kiss the back of her neck and love her dogs. Here was another person that was slipping out of his life. It was funny, how that tended to happen.
-
Jensen stops at a Tim Horton’s on their way out of town. He waves Jared over in the direction of the counter and snags a table, unfolding a giant map onto it. Jared takes this as an open invitation to get as many donuts as his heart desires. Maple bacon glaze? Fuck yeah. Jared pretty much believes that everything and anything can be improved by more bacon, a hangover most of all.
When he heads over with a dozen donuts, four breakfast sandwiches, and two large coffees, Jensen doesn't so much as blink. Jared sets the food down on an unoccupied seat and takes a bite of an egg sandwich. "What's the plan?"
Jensen's busy making seemingly random X's on the map with a red Sharpie. He motions at Jared to pass over the donuts. "We're going to see the real America. State fairs. Freak tourist attractions. Lots of cows." The tone is sardonic, amused. "We've got seven days to get Austin. Other than that, it's a free for all."
"So, the quintessential coming of age road trip celebrating Americana, huh?"
"Hell yeah. Just don't land us in jail."
"But a night in cell block D would be fucking awesome material for that next great American novel I haven't written yet."
Jensen lifts an eyebrow at him. There's powdered sugar on the corner of his mouth. "Let's run that career choice past your agent, why don't we."
Jared resists the urge to stick his tongue out at Jensen. Instead he steals his donut. After all, it is the only jelly filled one. "Whatever, bitch. You're just jealous 'cause you're still stuck on the F section of the dictionary."
"Read this." Jensen flips him off. The conversation, naturally, only devolves from there. Still, Jared's got the general gist of things: two guys, one car, five too many maps, and seven days to get to Texas any which way they want to. It's a plan that can go wrong in a multitude of ways, a plan that practically invites disaster and engine malfunctions and getting lost in the middle of Idaho.
Of course Jared is looking forward to it.
-
Washington's kind of a bust as far as bizarre shit goes, though they do stop at a two story giant coffee pot just outside of Tacoma. It's actually a bar, and would better be called a dive. They get burgers and onion rings and a pitcher of Miller, and Teddy, the bearded guy behind the bar, tells them about his time in Vietnam. Jared can't really tell if he's being sincere or just spinning them a series of elaborate lies, but it's pretty entertaining nonetheless.
When they leave, a girl with a vast tattoo winding up her chest and onto her neck eyes them and smiles. Jensen stops outside and takes a picture of the building with the camera Jared had given him for Christmas. There's an honest to god tape collection in the dashboard compartment that Jensen had gotten from Alex. "For authenticity," he says. That afternoon, they go through all of early Dylan. And that's the first day.
In the hotel room, Jared opens up his bag. Jensen's a pretty decent packer, neat. There are some clothes, a pair of sunglasses, the scrubs he stole from his brother years ago and likes to live in when he's feeling lazy. His phone charger and razor. His iPod and MacBook. There's a heavy envelope at the bottom of the bag that turns out to be the scripts he's supposed to be reading. They had sounded awful over the phone, and Jared wants to toss them in the trash, but he remembers that he's an adult now. He can't do things like that. Even a year ago, Jared had been looking forward to Supernatural ending. There was a whole career in front of him, and he wanted it so badly. Bigger and better, he had thought. Jared doesn't know why that feeling's gone, where and when it left him, evaporating to leave behind nothing but a quiet, unrelenting fatigue. It was a slow building up of things, until one morning he woke up and went to work and came home and realized that whatever had been driving him forward for years was gone. Since Genevieve, there's been a few hook-ups, nothing more. Jared's always liked being a boyfriend, liked being in a relationship. Maybe he has to learn to be alone. He doesn't know. It's a strange new feeling.
Jensen opens the door to their room, slipping his phone in his pocket, and Jared's still staring blankly at the scripts in his hand. He kicks the door closed with his foot and sits down on the other bed, beginning to unpack.
"You read them yet?"
Jared shakes his head, and Jensen frowns. "The first two are shit, but the third gets good. Aldis is looking into it too, I heard."
It's weird that Jensen's the one with all these plans lined up. "I dunno. Maybe I need a break."
"You're getting old."
"Who are you calling old, old man?"
Jensen cracks a grin at that, before going serious. "Really though. A break's good, man. If that's what it really is, and not something else." Don't bullshit me, is what he's really saying.
"Yeah. I know. Don't worry about me, I'll figure it out."
Jensen snorts and throws a pair of socks at him; Jared ducks, reflexively making a face of disgust. "That was a really convincing statement of intent, dude. I'm really reassured now."
Jared lets himself fall backward onto the bed. "Yeah, my agent's all up my ass about it too. I swear, I'll read 'em. Pinky promise."
Jensen's face floats into his field of vision. He pats Jared on the chest and says, very seriously, "No matter what happens, I want you to know that your poster will always be on my wall. Even if the biggest role you get here on out is dead convenience store worker #3 in Saw VIII." Jared cracks up. "Now that's real friendship."
The next morning, they head to Target to pick up stuff for the road. Jared spends way too much time in the candy aisle. There's just so many options. Jensen finds him there and hits him on the head with a package of beef jerky. "Dude, we're making a supplies run, not stocking up for Halloween." Jared makes a face as if to say, do you know me at all? "Like that's going to stop you, I know, I know," Jensen says as he wanders off. "Don't forget the Reese's cups." The girl at the check-out is a fan, and asks for a picture; they stand on either side of her, and Jared smiles wide, reaches across and puts a hand on Jensen's shoulder.
They load up the car, and when Jensen slams the trunk lid closed, one hand resting lightly on the dark finish, Jared feels a brief burst of déjà vu. He's seen him do that so many times before, but now it's just him and Jensen and the road, the days already winding down.
-
Jensen is chewing on a pen cap and squinting at the computer screen. "Let's go to Ohio."
They're sitting in an internet cafe in Portland, and Jared's emailing Mackenzie photos of Misha in a pink wig. She kind of has a crush. It's hilarious.
"What? No. Ohio fucking blows. Also, you know, other side of the country."
"But we could go see Big Butter Jesus, dude. King of Kings. Touchdown Jesus. 62 feet of spiritual savior."
Jared stares. He clicks send and leans over. Jensen keeps going. "Come on. Think about it. We could get our pictures taken in front of it and send postcards to everyone we know." He turns towards Jared, his eyes wide and earnest but the corners of his mouth turned down like he's trying to keep from smiling, and no more than ten seconds later, he busts up laughing. It's been that kind of day. Earlier, they walked into an all vegan restaurant by accident, and only figured it out when they got the menus. It was too late to leave, and Jared ate a tempeh burger on gluten-free bread. Some things just shouldn't exist.
A couple of hours outside of Portland, they hit a goldmine. Jared has no idea where they are exactly, but there's a wooden sign staked into the side of the road advertising something called the Oretucky Olympics, and it's just started. The description lists, no joke, eleven "hillbilly events" - there's the Best Mullet & Toilet Seat Toss, Seed Spitting, and Dumpster Dive & Big Hair Contest, to mention a few. Jared actually pulls over onto the side of the road to finish reading the sign. He turns towards Jensen. "Dude, I could totally win that wing eating contest."
"I'll actually pay you to enter that."
So of course they go. The signs lead them to a muddy field outside of a big farm. There's a disproportionate number of pick-up trucks parked near the fence, and plenty of people milling around. Jared can smell the grill going, and spots a few kegs lined up in front of a barn. They get out of the car and survey the scene. Jensen deadpans, "This is the best honeymoon ever." He crams a UT Dallas cap on his head and looks sidelong at Jared, slightly skeptical, mouth pursed.
Jared shrugs. "Dude, let's do it."
It's pretty fun. There's a ton of mullets, both real and fake. No one takes themselves seriously, and they somehow get talking with some big guy named Steve, who's actually from Montana. He tells them all kinds of stories about bears and coyotes and his brother, a lawyer in Kentucky, who's got a real record of winning suits against big companies. When Jared starts rethinking the whole hot wings contest thing, Steve calls him a pussy and signs them both up; Jared actually comes in third place, and Steve laughs uproariously, slapping him on the back. "I take back what I said about you, kid," he tells him, "your friend, though -- " They both bust out laughing, and Jensen flips them off, pulling the brim of his hat lower.
They stick around for the redneck re-vows before heading off. Jared's got a full stomach, a polaroid of him and Jensen standing in front of the entrance sign, both mugging for the camera, and an open invitation to go hunt bison in Montana anytime he's passing through. He hasn't laughed this much in a long time. It's nice to be around people who don't give a fuck who he is or what he does.
Back in the car, Jensen's driving and Springsteen's Nebraska is on.
"So, good day?"
Jared nods. "Good day."
Jensen smiles at that, simple and unexpectedly sweet. "Good. I gotta say, though, where was the NASCAR? Come on."
-
By the third day, the dynamics of the trip are clearer. There are certain rules. They take calls, but don't make them unless necessary. They avoid chain restaurants for local places when they can, and the same line of thought applies for hotels. They alternate mornings and afternoons driving and follow the map, but take side trips when they feel like it, or when they see something interesting. Sometimes they turn on the radio, and Jared sings along loudly to Fall Out Boy or whoever just to be obnoxious.
Jared spends a whole morning reading one of the scripts out loud in his worst Irish accent, and Jensen threatens to drive them into a ditch. They get complimented on their car a couple of times. Not that many people recognize them, but they stop for a quick chat with those who do. Mostly, they're fans of the show more than either of them. No one ever really asks what they're doing in Kennewick or Weiser or wherever they are. They stop when they feel like it, eat when they want to, and it's a kind of freedom that Jared hasn't had in a while. He keeps his phone off during the days. His life shrinks down to just a few things: the car, a duffel bag, Jensen. He feels alert, awake. Like he's really seeing things.
During the few hours they spend in Idaho, Jensen's asleep in the backseat, knees bent and curled on his side, an arm over his face. They get caught in a freak thunderstorm all of a sudden, the rain coming down hard enough that the road ahead blurs and smudges. Jared pulls into the nearest rest area and waits for it to pass. The sound of rain hitting the roof is loud, and he sees Jensen stir in the rear view mirror before he goes back to sleep.
The rain passes quickly, and the sudden silence in its wake is startling, soft and delicate. The sun comes back out. Jared rolls the window down and breathes deep. He feels good, happy, and it comes as something of a surprise.
-
After that, Jared starts noticing things. Small things. Dumb things.
In five years, Jared's picked up most things about Jensen without even realizing. He knows things about Jensen that surprise him when he stops to think about it, things he didn't think he did, and he can’t remember when or where or how he'd discovered them. There aren’t all that many singular events that stick out. He just knows. Now, though, it kind of feels like Jared’s never seen Jensen prepare his coffee before, or fall asleep against the window of the car, or shrug his shoulders under his jacket. Jensen eats his sandwiches starting from the corners. He always holds the door open if he’s the first to reach it, and waits for everyone to pass through. He sleeps on the left side of the bed, even when there’s a ton of space.
Everything seems new, different; it all stands out in sharp relief and carries a weird kind of significance. Everything old and familiar seems subtly changed and more important: Jared finds himself bizarrely and incomprehensibly charmed or astounded or surprised by the little things Jensen does, how he turns his head, the way he stands when he’s waiting.
There are also some things Jared still hasn't gotten used to or developed an immunity against. Jensen when he's really on, for one - Jared is big and loud and irreverent most of the time, enough so that people get used to it after a while, but Jensen's different. He goes through most days a little toned down, a few levels below maximum capacity. Jared's not sure what it is: a little bit of a defense mechanism, or a way of trying to hide the fact that he finds most of the world, and the people in it, vaguely irritating. When he's in a good mood, though, with people he honestly likes and maybe a little music, a couple of drinks - then Jensen's fucking charming without meaning to be, all intent focus and genuine interest, body-shaking laughter and, finally, a total lack of self-consciousness. They're at a packed pub in Utah when it hits Jared again. There's a local band playing, and they're quality, honest to god good. The interior of the place is dimly lit and warm, and Jensen is the only person Jared knows in the room. They get beers and nachos, and Jensen's talking about Chris's tour. His foot is tapping on the ground to the music and he keeps smiling at Jared, using his hands as he talks. The bar is crowded and they're pushed close together. Jared can see the lines around Jensen's eyes, how the tag of his t-shirt is flipped up. He reaches over and tucks it back down without thinking.
Jensen's got this thing about being taken seriously, about the way people judge him before they meet him, and it's only when he forgets all that shit that he's the guy Jared would do anything for, the guy that people fall in love with without meaning to. It sounds trite, but Jared's seen it happen again and again; a good number of the people who stick around long enough to see that, to see Jensen at his best, at his purest without all the bullshit he puts up from day to day, fall for him hard and fuck it all up. Jensen never encourages it. He's not too good with people caring about him that much, that way. It's not really anyone's fault.
Jared could write a book about Jensen already, and then there are the new things from the past few days. Jensen standing by a lake, barefoot, jeans rolled up and his plaid shirt half buttoned, with no shirt underneath. Waking up in the morning and seeing Jensen just a few feet away, head half buried in pillows, a leg sticking out from under the blankets. The fact that Jensen's a total backseat driver. How he always manages to fold maps back to the way they originally were. All the small bits and pieces that make up a person, how they bend and fold and snap back into place.
There's a lot. Yet, somehow, it's always felt closer to not enough than to too much.
-
They’re at a bed and breakfast in Provo when Jared brings it up. He’s been thinking about it for a while, and he’s always talked about his feelings more than the average guy. It’s not something that he really minds. Under pressure, he's great at talking serious, at saying big things and meaning them, and doing it eloquently. Sandy had liked that about him, but Genevieve thought it was kind of annoying. She’d seen it a lot, she said. She thought it was just another thing guys used, a different tactic in the playbook. Jared had refrained from saying that he wasn’t one of the twenty-something art or theatre school hipsters she hung around a lot.
Mostly he just likes putting things out there; he hates dwelling. It's a waste of time.
“I’ve never had a friend like you.”
Jensen looks up from his phone. “Uh, thanks?”
“I mean, I’ve never spent this much time with someone I wasn’t dating. Jesus, I’ve lived with you longer than I ever lived with Sandy.”
“Jared. What are you trying to get at?” Jensen’s tone is casual, but there's something sharp and wary in how he's looking at Jared, slightly disbelieving. Jared knows there are different places he can take this.
“I’m just saying, that isn’t a little weird to you? It’s not, that’s not just friendship, is it?”
Jensen’s looking down at his phone again, but the screen’s blank, dark. He turns it on and thumbs through a few messages; he looks out the window, then at his knee, then somewhere near Jared's shoulder. Jensen always does that when he's working up to talking about something he doesn’t want to talk about. “I think,” he says, slow like he’s being careful with his words, “that if it wasn’t, something would’ve happened a long time ago.”
“Something could happen now.” The show’s over. Things are beginning and ending all around him, and Jared feels like he doesn’t have a say in any of it; this trip, this week, is the last time things are gonna be like this. There’s a limited window of opportunity. It’s the one thing he hasn’t seriously considered, a feeling he’s tucked away for years, the obvious choice he hasn’t tried.
Jensen’s looking at him now, and he doesn’t have to say anything. Generally, Jensen’s good at shutting things down, a buttoning and tucking in of everything he felt. It was something you had to learn when you had a face that naturally prone to expressiveness. Now, though - Jensen’s face wrecks him with how open it is, how it's like everything he's ever worked so hard to keep submerged is written in his parted mouth, the tightness around his eyes, the way the light from the window hit his face. It's totally new, and Jared can’t even begin to figure it all out. But he sees the panic beginning to take root there, and he sees the way Jensen shakes his head just slightly, like he wants to say no but can’t get the words out.
It’s not what Jared meant to do. He didn’t mean for things to get so heavy.
-
Later, Jensen disappears for a couple of hours and comes back around midnight. Jared's lying on his bed reading the last of the three scripts, and he can tell that Jensen's had a few drinks. Probably no more than that.
Jared waves the packet of paper at him. "You were right, this is pretty good."
Jensen stares at him kind of blankly before he figures out what Jared's talking about. "Oh. Yeah." He wriggles out of his sweater, toes his boots off, and sprawls across the bed. "You should read for that journalist dude."
"I don't get to kill anyone. There aren't any monsters, it's kinda wild."
"I'd consider that a good thing."
"No joke."
Jensen sits up on his elbows. "Sorry about earlier. I'm, uh. I wasn't expecting that."
Jared's been trying to figure out what to say since Jensen left. He's got nothing. "No, dude, I'm sorry too. Just. I've been thinking about it, lately. A lot."
"It's not a good idea, Jared."
"You're not denying anything."
Jensen looks him in the eyes, and he doesn't look scared or upset, but angry. There's that sharp splintery look he always gets when he's challenging other people to things. Jared tries to seem calm, neutral, like this doesn't mean that much to him either way. But then Jensen says, "No," and it feels like something's come undone behind his ribs, like the floor's fallen out below him and he's just noticed. Jared wonders what the safe way of playing this is, if there is one. Jensen speaks again.
"I thought the way I felt about you could still be friendship, just friendship. It's not. So now you know."
"Now I know."
They stare at each other for a few seconds.
"We don't need to do anything about it. It's not -- I'm good with the way things are. We can just keep it that way."
Jared nods, and doesn't say, But what if I want it to change? What if I want more?
-
The next day, things are a little off. Jared takes a wrong exit off of Route 70 and gets lost trying to get back. Jensen's no help, and eventually they call it quits and get lunch at a random town diner. Jensen has his glasses on, and neither of them have shaved since they left Canada. Inside, the place is sunny and loud. They grab a booth at the back, place their orders, and sit in a silence that's made pointedly uncomfortable by all the people around them that are talking to each other. Their feet bump accidentally under the table and Jared jerks his leg back. Jensen picks up the salt and shakes it into Jared's Coke as Jared stares. It fizzles.
"What -- you're such a little bitch."
Jensen leans back into the booth and lifts his eyebrows. "I dare you to drink it."
Again, such a little bitch. Jensen knows that the best way to get Jared to do anything is to dare him to. He's just unable to say no to one, and it's landed him in all kinds of shit. So of course Jared drinks it, and of course it's totally disgusting, and of course he keeps on going and even goes as far as to look like he's savoring it. It's a matter of personal pride. Jensen's face cycles through horror and amusement, and just as Jared's about to crack himself, Jensen covers his face and starts laughing, head down and shoulders shaking. A few waitresses look over curiously and whisper to each other. It takes him minutes to stop, and then he almost starts again when Jared signals to their waitress, Natalie, for a new drink.
Finally, he stops, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Jesus, I don't know why that was so funny."
"You better watch out, is all I'm saying."
Jensen looks a little sheepish, and spreads his hands. "Uh, sorry? You just make it so easy sometimes."
"Yeah, well, your mom makes it easy." Yeah, Jared's really off.
"That was so weak. I can't even believe I'm dignifying it with a response."
And with that, they're good, back to normal for now. The food's great, and they leave a big tip. Jared tries to figure out where to take things from here. He's not going to let it go that easily.
-
When Jensen turned thirty-two, they had gone out drinking with a bunch of people: friends and crew and Jim and who knows who else. It was a Saturday, so Danneel had flown up to see him because she had more time, then, even though Vancouver was still grey and wet, even though it got dark so early, which was really the hardest thing, more than the cold. Danneel had gotten up to say hi to someone for a minute, and Jared had said, Impart some wisdom, old man, all piss take and smile.
They were both beginning to slouch against the booth; Jensen had been on most of the night, laid back and unworried, and Jared expected some eye rolling, an equally light response. Instead, Jensen finished the rest of the drink in his glass, pulling a vaguely disgusted face. He'd said, Getting older just means figuring out what you can give up. It's a lot more than you'd think. He didn't sound unhappy or bitter about it, but rather matter of fact. Then Jensen had laughed at himself a little, seemingly unconcerned. Man, look at me, all wise and shit. Danneel slid back into the booth almost right after, a couple of beers in hand; she leaned into Jensen's side and put her chin on his shoulder, smiling. He was looking at her and smiling back and they looked good, great. Happy.
It wasn't a big deal, what Jensen had said. Jared didn't know why it bothered him so much the ride home, the next morning.
Jared was getting older too. He knew more, was smarter, a little more jaded. But maybe he just wasn't the kind of person who was okay with giving things up. With being happy with less. He wanted what he wanted, and he didn't like the idea of having to learn to want less just to find some kind of happiness. Jared didn't ask for crazy things, and it worried him that maybe what he expected, hoped to get out of it all would seem crazy five years later.
He didn't want to be that person, but maybe that person was everyone. Still: Jensen had looked fine when he had said it, like he didn't care at all, like it didn't bother him. Jared didn't want to be fine with it. He had never been good with settling for things. Near the end, with Sandy, he had tried so hard to be okay with how they ended up being, and he had tried to tell himself that they would be good, fine in the long run. That the kind of happiness they had was enough.
He couldn't. It wasn't. For so long, he thought there could be nothing better, but in the end, it just wasn't. Someone else would probably call what he'd done a mistake. Sometimes he thinks so, too.
-
They hit St. George by late afternoon. When Jared walks out of the 7-11 with a bag of Swedish fish and a 64 ounce cherry and blue raspberry Slurpee, he finds finds Jensen sitting on the grass near the car, legs crossed and the cooler at his side. He's got a Pabst tallboy by one knee and a cigarette in his hand.
Jared thinks it's pretty hilarious that what Jensen probably used to do in high school as some trite form of obligatory rebellion has become actual habit, something he legitimately enjoys. Jared knows that it's easy to fall into the role of playing a good ol' boy once you actually leave Texas, because people who've never been there have all kinds of crazy ideas about what it's really like. Sometimes they confuse life there with living in, like, Mississippi. Yeah, people are fucking strange. He never fit that sort of box back home, and he's sure as hell that Jensen didn't either; the part of Richardson where Jensen grew up is all about nice lawns and church dinners and respectability. When people say it's a nice place to live, what they really mean is that those who do make good money and don't worry about letting their kids out to wander around the neighborhood.
Anyway, the point is that Jensen has on those aviators he always wears, and a SMU t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He's got a bad case of farmer's tan and a bunch of bracelets on his wrist.
"I hope douchebag was the look you were going for."
Jensen grins, and the whiteness of that smile destroys any illusion he's trying to cultivate.
"Yeah, son, and I done real good." He drags out real like it's a five syllable word. Jensen's in a mood.
"You think you're so fucking funny."
Jensen just sticks the cigarette in his mouth and pats the ground next to him. Jared sits down and stretches his legs out. He hates it when Jensen smokes, mostly because it's stupid, but is way past the point of saying anything. At least Jensen's the type who's diligent about smoking downwind of everyone else. It's a cloudy, humid day. The sun comes and goes. Jared watches Jensen finish the cigarette and grind it out near an anthill. A bunch of ants scramble around in panic. Nevada is close.
"Let's go to Vegas."
Jensen snorts. "After that thing with the hamster, no fuckin' way." There is no thing with the hamster. This is one of those things they do, sometimes around interviewers, sometimes around unsuspecting friends, where they make up ridiculous stories about each other out of the blue, one upping each other. Any outward display of surprise is frowned upon. Gotta keep alert.
"I'm telling you, man. It was just that one time."
Jensen sighs, unfolding his legs and lying back on the grass with his hands behind his head in one quick motion. His jeans are washed light and there are holes at the knees, near the seams, where pale skin shows through. He says, "Tempting. But too obvious."
Jared shrugs and crams five Swedish fish in his mouth. He had said it for show, mostly. You don't drive past Las Vegas without thinking at least half-heartedly about stopping for a game or twenty of blackjack, or whatever shit is popular these days. Jared dislikes cards mostly because everyone he's ever played with has been terrible. His hair is in his eyes and he pushes it back; at this point, a hairband might be worth the mockery. Jensen rolls over some and grabs the Slurpee, taking a long pull. "You really need a haircut, dude. You look like Jordan Catalano on roids." Jensen raises his eyebrows meaningfully as he talks. The inside of his mouth is violently red, and his teeth perfectly aligned. He purses his mouth a little. It's kind of obscene. Jared just laughs.
"Yeah, yeah, and you're the prettiest construction worker west of the Appalachians."
Jensen makes a face of surprise, his entire body coming to a stop. "What? You mean those liberal fucks on the east coast actually have real live humans building their ivory towers for them?"
At that, Jared laughs longer, and throws Jensen a fish that he catches perfectly between his teeth, followed immediately by a brief, victorious fist pump. Yeah, Jensen's in a mood.
-
Night falls sixty miles into Arizona. Earlier they had passed a fireworks tent, and Jared bought some firecrackers. They stop at a campground near Marble Canyon and eat sandwiches, crack open a few Sam Adams. Jensen wants to deal with the firecrackers, so Jared sits on the grass, arms on his knees, watching him.
People always look at Jensen when he walks into a room, but they see all the wrong things - Jensen isn't that special, not in the ways most people think he is. He's just a guy. If it wasn't for a decade of his momma yelling at him in the mornings and a chronic case of old fashioned manners, he'd probably be late to anything that started before ten in the morning; he owns more ratty old baseball caps than anyone Jared knows; he always gets embarrassed on other people's behalf when they're being stupid.
It's weird, sometimes, listening to other people talk about Jensen. For Jared, Jensen's the composite of a thousand little things, a bunch of habits and a smile and a voice. When they lived together, Jensen fed the dogs when Jared stayed late on set. He smokes only when he's drinking. When he was younger, he'd held all kinds of odd jobs: he'd painted houses, worked at a country club, made coffee and sold overpriced clothes. He enjoys fishing way too much and rides motorbikes even though Dawn probably has a near heart attack each time he gets on one. Jensen's the guy who gets into relationships kind of by accident, a lot of the time, without all that much effort on his part - Joanna being the case in point. He's got a long fuse, acquired mostly from practice rather than nature; Jared's only seen someone reach the end of it once or twice, but the anger they set off when they got there was real bad. These are things Jared knows.
Looking at him, then, at his hands in the darkness, pale and steady and sure, the quick flick of his wrist as he lights a match and the brightness of that flame in night, how it lines the edges of his face - Jared doesn't even have the words for the feeling that suddenly lodges itself in his chest. It's looking at someone you've cared about for a long time. It's realizing that that person knows all the bad parts of you but has still stuck around. It's the painful mix of pride and fear at seeing someone well-loved the way that strangers must see him, at seeing so clearly past the familiarity that there's something beautiful there, and something strong. It's the strange premature nostalgia of watching someone at their best. Just about to hit their prime.
Up close, he can see all of Jensen's imperfections: the slightly crooked nose, the freckles on his eyelids, a spot on his forehead. Jensen’s someone that hasn’t let Jared down, one of the few left in his life, and Jared doesn’t know if he can take that changing. But somehow, trying to imagine a future without Jensen in it feels close to impossible, more so than it should, more so than is safe. He tries, and it's weird how there's so much more missing in it than just a person. It’s complicated, needing someone that much.
Jared looks at him, and maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's some punch drunk transient emotion, maybe it's the stress of the clock ticking down and the fear and the future, but he wants to say: let's do this forever. You and me. Come on.
Instead, he says, "I'm going to miss your stupid face so fucking much.", as they stand on this unfamiliar ground, firecrackers exploding in the space above them.
Jensen scuffs his shoe against the ground and glances up at Jared, wiping the dust off his hands. "Are we having a moment here?" There's a new sort of smile around his mouth, soft and a little uncertain. It's thrilling.
"I won't tell if you don't."
"Agreed." Jensen knocks their beer bottles together and takes a long swallow. He looks away, up at the sky. It's dark enough that Jared can't quite tell what he's feeling. "I'm gonna miss you too, man. There's a lot of things -- " He stops and shakes his head. They stand shoulder to shoulder in silence.
-
In New Mexico, they stop at a red light. He doesn't know why Jensen bothers; the road is empty as far as Jared can see, ahead and behind.
It's early in the morning. The land is bright and silent around them. Jared leans over and puts one hand on Jensen's leg, and another on his face. Jensen turns his head towards him, reflexive and unthinking; Jared kisses him before he has a chance to pull away. He does it because he doesn't know what else to do, because it feels right, because he's never done it even once before, for real. Jensen's mouth parts under his like it's something they do all the time, like it's something he wants. The light goes green. Nobody cares. Nobody's watching. Jensen's foot jerks on the gas for a fast second.
When Jared pulls away, Jensen's eyes are wide in his face. There's a few beats of silence, and then Jensen speaks. His voice is flat, a little toneless. "Uh, I know you haven't gotten laid in a while, but, really, there's --" He doesn't even finish. A hawk flies across the sky. Weird things are standing out to Jared. Jensen coughs, and rolls his shoulders a little. He turns back towards the road and starts driving again. "We've got to make El Paso by midnight."
Jared watches him, the way his jaw is working, how he swallows, the tightness of his fingers on the wheel and how he deliberately loosens them. It tells him everything he needs to know, everything Jensen won't say. It's okay for now, but it freaks Jared out that maybe he could make that okay, enough, for forever. He isn't that kind of guy. But he can already almost talk himself into making do, with not asking Jensen for more if only to have something, anything at all. Jared wonders if this is how Jensen's felt for so long. He's already so fucking gone, and it's crazy how fast that's happened.
Or maybe it had been happening all along. A week isn't a long time, but five years is.
-
It's - It's not like Jared has never thought about it. He has, a couple of times. He remembers them pretty clearly. Way back in what he now considers the early days, after that fight in front of a bar. Some other guys had come outside and helped break it up, and he and Jensen were left standing in the parking lot, their breaths coming fast in the cold air. Jared's hand hurt like hell, and his heart was going way too fast. He hadn't gotten in a real fight in a long time. He had looked over at Jensen - a street light was shining on him from behind, and he looked all lit up inside, a little blood on his lip, wet and dark. Jared wanted to kiss him, then. To taste the blood on his mouth. To lick it clean.
It was the kind of fucked up joy that came from the forging of a specific kind of partnership that didn't have much to do with friendship, but rather with having each others backs in a fistfight - the shared conspiratorial thrill of it.
That was the first time.
-
In L.A., Jared gets ribbed a lot when people find out he's from Texas. There's usually a raised eyebrow, some stunningly original remark about guns, oil, or a lack of civilization, and then some laughter, maybe a pat on the arm. Jared usually gives them the fakest sincere-looking smile he can manage and moves on; he doesn't really think anyone so firmly entrenched in Hollywood has the right to talk shit about any other place. The truth is that Jared misses Texas real bad whenever he's away for too long. Being back reminds him of being a kid, of sweet iced tea and barbecue that takes days to prepare, big belt buckles - because some cliches really are true - and bigger skies. He thinks of the house he grew up in: their sprawling lawn, the swing set, sitting on the deck on summer nights eating popsicles. He thinks of that time Jeff and a few of his college buddies decided to drive to El Paso, and how he tagged along; he remembers that it took them days, and that west Texas looked so different, and that the sky at night was so clear and dark, really dark, out in the country above the abandoned oil fields. There's so many things. Football season - going to the game on Friday nights to watch Jeff play. Waking up early on Sundays for church. In the summer, Sonic runs late at night, when it was finally cool enough to be outside, with whoever had a car. Sitting around drinking super-sized cherry limeades, talking shit about girls and basketball and how someone's mom had caught them smoking up in the bathroom last week. Jared remembers taking Sandy back home for the first time, and how new it had all seemed to her.
There's a whole lot of sad things about Texas, too, broken towns and people, sometimes ugly and sometimes despicable. Less than some places, more than others. There's the mansions and nice restaurants and Austin City Limits. Then there are the old boom towns, now dried up and hollow, where the only thriving business left is the used car dealership, where once pristine yards are beginning to overgrow. Where the people pray for healthy babies and the first string quarterback, where their collective hope is pinned on state play-offs, where almost no one leaves. Jared didn't grow up in that kind of town, but he twenty miles away and he could have.
Being Texan generally means that you feel a lot more strongly about your state that most people do about theirs - neutrality isn't really an option. It becomes a part of you in a way most places don't. You defend it to assholes who talk shit about it, even though you were just talking shit about Houston a minute earlier. You make a lot of inappropriate jokes about the Mexican border. It's just kind of how it goes. Jared's known a few people who've hated growing up there and do their best to deny it ever happened, and he just feels sorry for them. Everybody's got a love-hate thing with wherever, whatever their home is, but denial's a whole other game. He's not bullshitting when he talks about him and Jensen being Texas boys, about how well they got along as a result - sure, it's a cute little interview fall back, but, more than that, it's legitimately true. There are a bunch of things Jared doesn't have to explain because of that. Jensen gets it.
So, yeah, Jared's pretty glad to be back.
-
They arrive in El Paso a little after nine. Jensen parks the car and Jared gets a room at the first Best Western they drive by.
Jensen’s brushing his teeth in the green-tiled bathroom when Jared walks in. It’s a small room and he makes himself take up more space. They’re gonna talk about it. Jensen spits into the sink. He looks annoyed. “Don’t even pull that physical intimidation shit with me, Jared.”
Jared deflates a little and slouches against the wall. Busted. “I wouldn’t, if you’d actually talk to me.”
“Okay, fine. What do you want to hear?” Jared blows out a breath. Jensen can be difficult, sometimes.
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe why you’re so scared? Why you're going back and forth on this?”
“This? What’s ‘this’? Do you even know what you want, man? All this shit, you’re just messing around, fucking around like it’s some kind of game or something, I don’t even.” Jensen’s trying to divert the conversation away from himself. It’s pretty obvious, and is, in itself, a kind of concession. “You don't need to fuck me to keep me around, Jared." The set of his mouth is ugly, and Jared would be angry if he didn't know the place it was coming from, the part of Jensen that remembered each and every time someone else had used him for all the pieces of him that didn't really matter, the pieces that made him an actor or a pretty face, but never Jensen.
“I’m not twenty-one anymore, alright? I’ve thought about this. I’ve been thinking about this. I know you don’t always take me seriously, whatever, but I’m telling you, I’m serious now. Why not? I’m not being cavalier about it. I know we'd be fucked if we messed it up, but, look, it's us. We, we're not gonna mess it up. I’m telling you - ” Jared doesn’t get why Jensen looks less and less happy with each word that comes out of his mouth.
“Why not? Because I’ve got a ring in my bag that I’m giving to my girl in two weeks. I’m asking her.”
That - that’s not what Jared was expecting. He had thought about it, entertained the fact that it might happen, but Jensen had never said anything, and now. Now. Jared thinks about how it felt to ruin someone else’s happiness. He thinks about Icky, and how Danneel’s mom sends Jensen care packages from Louisiana, and the way Jensen and Danneel had managed long distance for so long. He thinks about Danneel, who has a great laugh, how she played Madden with him, cross legged on the floor in boxer shorts and one of Jensen’s old t-shirts, the way she made them both breakfast when she was over. He thinks about it, and doesn’t know why he didn’t before. It’s selfish in a way he tries not to be. On this trip, just the two of them, it was like he had forgotten that there was a world out there, with other people and their lives and things he couldn’t do anything to change; he had forgotten, and he hadn’t missed it, hadn’t minded. Fuck.
Jared lets out a breath. “I. Yeah, okay. That’s a good reason. A great reason. You win. I’m gonna, I’m gonna let you get back to, you know, whatever.” He doesn’t really know what he’s saying, but leaves the bathroom and lies down on one of the beds. Stares at the ceiling, closes his eyes. Good job, dude. That was a slam dunk in there. Jared hears the water run in the bathroom, the door close. There’s a long, long silence, and then he hears Jensen come out and sit down on the other bed.
“I’ve actually had the ring for six months now. I’ve been. I’ve been trying to figure out if I should ask her for even longer. That's usually not a good sign, right?” Jared opens his eyes and turns his head a little so he can look at Jensen, who clears his throat and keeps talking. "So, uh, a few weeks before shooting wrapped, I told myself, you’re gonna ask her after the show’s over. You’ll go on this trip and then you’ll go back to California and you’ll do it. And you won’t regret it at all. And it’s like this was gonna be some kinda test, to see if I could really live with the way things were. Like I was waiting on something, like I had this crazy as fuck idea that maybe something would happen. One last chance, or some shit. And if nothing did, it would be okay, I would know for good, finally, and that would be fine. But, you. You fucked it all up and you actually did something and I, I’m. It’s been so long. I never figured out what I would do if.” Jensen rubs a hand over his face, through his hair. He looks at Jared. “You mess me up. For real. Say somethin'.”
The comforter is scratchy against his cheek. Jared sits up, and the bed creaks slightly. Maybe they're both a little crazy. "I don't mean to." He pauses and tries to figure out the right words to use; it's weird and new how hard that is. "I don't mean to make things hard for you."
"I know. You're just you." A corner of Jensen's mouth lifts, rueful, a brief twist of a smile.
"So. What do we do?"
Jensen shrugs, a quick, tense shake of his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt is thin and grey. He's twisting the ring on his thumb absently. There's a weird kind of adrenaline building under Jared's skin, a buzz - he can see so many different paths splitting from this moment, different futures and lives, some merging and intersecting, some never crossing again. Clear eyes, he thinks, and reaches across the gap between the beds, grabbing Jensen's wrist loosely. The beads and leather there are cold against his fingers.
"Look, I need to say this, and maybe it's kinda unfair, but I gotta let you know. Um, I'd really like to date you. It's been five years and I still can't get enough of you. I don't know if I can promise you anything, and maybe that's what you need, but I'm really into you and you're kind of a big priority in my life, in case you haven't noticed, and there's a ton of things you do that bug the fuck out of me but somehow I'm just better around you. If you let me, I'm in it for the long run. Everything, all of it, I don't care. You should know that." Jared knows he's rushing it by the end, talking too fast and tripping over his words, inarticulate. It suddenly doesn't matter.
There's a flush creeping up slowly from Jensen's collar. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, head ducked low. "Okay. Alright, man." He doesn't move to shake off Jared's hand. "Just. Gimme a day. Maybe two. A little time."
Jared nods, and swallows. "I can do that." His toes curl against the rough carpet. It's kind of odd that this is happening. How it's happening.
They watch four re-runs of Seinfeld before Jensen turns off his light and goes to sleep. Jared mutes the TV; he feels wide awake. Things are expectant, a little anxious, but not awkward. Jared listens to Jensen breathe. He hopes.
-
Outside of Pecos, the Reeves County fair is going strong, and there's no way they're not going. Jared has a few simple arguments prepared, and they all involve food. It's a perfect early summer day and families are everywhere.
They pay for their tickets, and the first thing to greet them is a giant sculpture of a cantaloupe sliced in half. Made of butter. It's absurd, and housed in what Jared guesses has to be a refrigerated glass case. The thing is literally a good five feet in diameter, each seed inside carved in loving detail, and the whole thing tinted with various shades of orange and green for a more realistic effect. There's a plaque at the base that proclaims, THE LARGEST BUTTER SCULPTURE and, in smaller letters, in Reeves County, TX.
Jensen takes off his sunglasses and squints at it. He looks both disgusted and entertained. "I fucking love Texas, dude."
Jared laughs and tells him, "You wait here. I'm gonna win something for you."
He heads over to one of the shooting target tents and hits bullseye two out of three times. The middle aged woman running the booth looks vaguely impressed, and waves a hand at the rows and rows of stuffed animals behind her. Bear, puppy, elephant, pink unicorn - pink unicorn. It's huge and fucking perfect. Jared points it at and winks at the woman when she hands it over. "Just a little somethin' for my girl," he says, laughing a little already, laying the accent on thick and slipping an extra ten dollar bill on the counter. Jared steps back from the tent and looks around; Jensen's walking towards him but seems distracted by the guy deep frying candy bars. Yeah, Jared had considered that too. By the time Jensen catches up to him, Jared's holding the stuffed animal behind his back in an attempt to make it just a little less immediately conspicuous, and has his most innocent expression on his face. Jensen catches it immediately and actually steps back.
"Jared, what?"
Jared holds the unicorn in front of him and looks earnest. "I just wanted to give you something that's, you know, as special and unique as you are." Jensen's face at that is the best thing he's seen all day. Upon closer inspection, the unicorn is kind of - sparkly. Even better. "Take it, man, I worked hard for this."
He holds it by the mane, gingerly with only a few fingers. "Uh. You're a real charmer, Jared. This is just what every girl wants on her sixth birthday."
“I’m courtin’ you,” Jared says. It pays to be honest. “Staging a pursuit. This is just the beginning. Is it working?"
Jensen bites his lip. He looks like he wants to smile. “I'm holding out for the next part before judging that.”
"Please, you're totally gonna keep it and name it and, like, put it in a glass display case or something when you get home."
Jensen punches Jared on the arm, lightly. “You’re a goddamned life ruiner, Jared Tristan Padalecki.”
Jared smiles, big. “Please. You think I’m great.” There's only the bare skeleton of a smile on Jensen's face, but when he looks at Jared, it's unguarded and relaxed, and the obvious fondness in it makes Jared a little embarrassed, makes his heart speed up and makes him feel too tall and clumsy in a way he thought he had left behind. This is the one thing he never wants to screw up. Maybe he isn't. Maybe he hasn't yet. Jensen tucks the unicorn under his arm and shifts his feet. He looks ridiculous.
"So. I passed by this dude frying Snickers bars. We should investigate that."
-
The second time was different. They were at a bar, again. It was a Saturday night and the place was crowded. Lou had roped Jared into doing tequila shots. He took a break in between two and looked around - Jensen was at the bar, a beer in one hand. He was chatting up a girl, that much was obvious. She was sitting on a stool and he nudged her knees apart, stepping in between them. He said something. She looked amused. Jensen put a hand high on her leg and moved it higher, slow, smooth in a way Jared hadn't expected. He tried looking at Jensen objectively, not Jensen his friend and costar, not Jensen the guy who got in the car grumpy in the morning with half his hair flattened, but as just Jensen. Some guy at a bar. Jared looked: the dip of his back, his shoulders, the long line from stomach to hips to legs. Old boots. Jeans ripped at the bottom, with the worn outline of a wallet on the back pocket. His smile, the cleanness of his profile. The way he leaned forward, hands on her --
And then Jared had to look away. He nodded at Lou and downed the shotglass in one go. His skin felt too small, stretched tight like it was going to split open if touched. It surprised him.
-
Just outside of Odessa, Jensen pulls over onto the side of the road. There's a stream bed or something there, some shallow body of water that stretches into sparse vegetation. It would be unremarkable but for the tree trunks emerging from it, thin and dry and grey. Some stop just above the water, nothing but uneven stumps. Other are taller, and spike into the sky before they break off, jagged and violent. No leaves, no branches, like some giant fist had swung itself through what was once a forest, followed by a tunnel of fire. Lightning, maybe. They look like fossils, prehistoric. It's pretty amazing. A little scary.
Jensen has his camera in his hands. It's hot out. Jared moves a little out of the way, but Jensen shakes his head. "Just stay there. I want a picture of you."
There's less than two hundred miles to Austin. Jared has to go to San Antonio, and Jensen to Dallas. They still haven't talked about who's keeping the car. Over the past seven days, they've collected eleven packets of matches from random diners and bars and hotels, one stuffed animal, four souvenir shot glasses, a street sign, two wooden plaques with fish on them, too many photos, and a small cactus - things at once worthless and invaluable.
Jared smiles, more than a camera smile. He puts everything he wants to say in it and hopes it shows. The open-close of the shutter is quick and loud. A breeze blows the hair off the back of his neck before vanishing. He thinks about shared motel rooms, too many hours of country rock, driving with the windows down and rain in the air. Sitting on beds across from each other and feeling Jensen's pulse under his thumb, no different than it had ever been.
Jensen splashing water on his face in the mornings. The open bathroom door that let him see it.
Jensen pushing his sunglasses up to keep his hair off his forehead.
Jensen sitting on the hood of the car with a hand shielding his eyes, watching Jared making a fool of himself.
Jensen.
This isn't how things are going to end.
He comes forward and pulls the camera out of Jensen's hands. Jensen steps back a little, almost leaning against the side of the car; he's looking at Jared, really looking, and his eyes are so green in the light, and there's a smudge of dirt high up on his cheek, and Jared has a sudden pang of missing him, even though he's right there.
Jared doesn't want to have to miss him. He puts a hand on Jensen's stomach, holds onto his shirt. "I'm gonna kiss you," he says, and Jensen looks calm about it for the first time, still and unworried like he's made his mind up about something.
He pulls the baseball cap off his head and slips a few fingers around one of Jared's belt loops, tugging him closer. "Yeah," he says, voice quiet, low, "you should probably do that."
Jared does. The sun is already thick and heavy against the back of his neck, and his shirt is beginning to stick to his skin. The metal of the car burns his palm. It's gonna hit 90°, at least, today.
A passing driver hollers at them. "Yeah!" he yells. "Get some!"
Jared can feel Jensen start to laugh. The slow shaking of his ribs.
---
so, in summary - jensen and jared drink a lot of beer and try to talk about how much they like each other.
a couple of things:
i meant to finish this tennis au i started last summer, but this kind of happened instead. the actual logistics of the trip they take are a little vague. i took some liberties with the facts, you know. i realize jensen got lasik or whatever. i chose to ignore it!
the oretucky olympics don't exist, but the pennsyltucky ones do! all event names are taken directly from there, i didn't just make it up so i could poke fun at rednecks. the cantaloupe butter sculpture is pretty random. i find butter sculptures totally baffling yet hilarious. reeves county is, according to wikipedia, very proud of its cantaloupe growing. one plus one, and all that. i don't know any place that has fairs in may, but i really wanted that scene. about texas: because people who've never been there have all kinds of crazy ideas about what it's really like - i wrote this to mock myself, mostly. i know a lot of texans but i've never been to that wonderful country known as texas. forgive me for any inaccuracies/wild generalizations/the like.
the last bits of this were written partially as a love letter to friday night lights. lyrics at the top by the mountain goats.
thanks for reading!
edit: i was informed that firecrackers are illegal in arizona, which i overlooked when writing this. sorry, totally my bad! accidentally setting off forest fires is never a good thing.