Chapter IV, part ii
he circles halley's comet and lights up the sky like a flame
twinkle, twinkle
little dream
Two weeks later, Jared was woken up by the phone ringing at two ‘o’ clock in the morning. He was planning on ignoring it-and he would have done, too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he had a roommate to think about now, as well-but after thirty seconds of lying on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, he decided he may as well pick up. Padding slowly into the living room, he found Castiel stood in the centre of the room, pinching Jared’s mobile between his thumb and forefinger and gazing at it curiously.
“What are you doing?”
“I cannot figure out how to... quieten it.”
“Dude, pass it here,” he rolled his eyes and held out a hand.
Castiel handed it over somewhat reluctantly, before rubbing blearily at his eyes, yawning sleepily as he did so. His hair was messy and mussed, and his t-shirt-one of Jared’s again, he noted-clung to his chest as he moved, sticky with sweat. Jared frowned. He wondered if maybe the angel wasn’t sleeping well; it looked a lot like he’d been tossing and turning through the night. Making a mental note to add that to their list of topics to be discussed in The Talk, he tapped a button on his phone and pressed it against his ear. Yawning, he grumbled, “Hello?”
“And it’s nice to hear from you too, sunshine.”
“…Chad?”
“The one and only.”
“It’s two ‘o’ clock.”
“And you live in the city that never sleeps!”
“I live in Vancouver.”
“Details, details,” Chad replied, and Jared rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I was just calling to say that I’m stood outside your door. I wanted to give you a quick heads-up before I just broke in, y’know? I figured that was politer. Give you a chance to make yourself decent and get rid of any lady friends, if you know what I mean. Speaking of, how’s Sandy?”
“She’s fine,” Jared replied, before doing a double-take. “Wait, what do you mean you’re stood outside?”
“I think the clue’s in the sentence, really.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was in the neighbourhood,” Chad said, before chuckling. “Actually, I wasn’t-well, I guess I was, but only because I’m working here, and I didn’t specifically come here for you, in all honesty. There was this Canadian chick I used to date-freaky as fuck, she was, but her sister was nice, and don’t even get me started on her mother-and I figured I was going to pay her a visit, so I did, and then I thought, hey, Jay-man lives around here, so here I am, Chad Michael Murray, in the flesh. Are you going to let me in, because I’m freezing my balls off out here?”
“You’re in the hall, Chad.”
“Point still stands.”
Jared rolled his eyes, before promptly hanging up, tossing his phone onto the sofa and glancing across at Castiel. For a second, he was six years old again, searching for the best place to hide his fallen angel-and then, at Castiel’s confused expression, his features relaxed, and he couldn’t help but grin at the ridiculousness of the situation. He was going to have to introduce Castiel to someone other than Jensen at some point, after all-and frankly, he was glad it was Chad. Chad was sort of a test which everyone had to try and pass at some point if they wanted to stick around Jared for any length of time; he was the test which came after Jensen, but before his family, and you wouldn’t last long if you failed it. Sandy had passed, but that was because she’d worked with Chad too, and, well, when you’re in such close conditions with Chad for any length of time, you can’t help but begin to warm to him. He was endearing like that.
Castiel tilted his head, glancing first at the abandoned mobile phone and then across at Jared, who shook his head-thus warding off any potential questions-and headed over to the door. It would be better just to get it over and done with, and so he unlocked the door, hearing Castiel’s soft footsteps behind him as the angel came to stand by his side, and found himself staring at a grinning Michael Murray.
“Dude, what, do you have a chick in here or something, cuz that took ages,” he said, before promptly cutting himself off.
There was this wonderful, awkward silence.
“Cas, this is Chad. I met him when I was filming way back, and I can’t get rid of him.”
Castiel tipped his head.
“Hello.”
Chad jabbed a finger at him.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Cas,” Jared said, gesturing towards the angel, who looked entirely bemused. “He was a friend of mine, back when I was a kid, but he went-he went travelling for a while and, well, now he’s back. He was looking for a place to stay, so I said he could stay here.”
“How come I’ve never heard of him?”
“Because contrary to popular belief, Murray, I don’t tell you everything.”
“But you’ve never even mentioned him!”
“I never felt the need.”
Chad’s mouth snapped open again, obviously to protest, but it closed just as quickly. He looked between Jared and Cas with recognition dawning on his face-which was odd, really, considering how Jared was pretty sure the pair had never met before. It just seemed a lot like Castiel probably didn’t hang around in the same circles as Chad, for fairly obvious reasons, so there was no real reason as to why they would know each other. And yet, there Chad was, gawping like an idiot, his eyes widening as he realised something; and then his hand flew up, pointing first at Jared and then at Cas, and he said, “You were dating, weren’t you?!”
“What-no!”
“You were!”
“What the hell gave you that idea?”
“Dude, I’ve had enough ex-girlfriends to recognise one when I see one,” Chad rolled his eyes, sounding just slightly proud of himself as he spoke; and then he jabbed his finger against Jared’s chest, narrowing his eyes at him, “And those are the bitter eyes of an ex-girlfriend, my friend. That’s why you never mentioned him, and that’s why you always get all pissy when I end a relationship, and that’s why you keep checking out my ass!”
“Besides, if I was going to check out anyone’s ass, it wouldn’t be yours,” Jared sniffed.
“How dare you.”
“Sorry.”
“I have a perfectly pleasant ass.”
“You are an ass.”
“You’re trying to change the subject,” Chad frowned. “And trying very adamantly, might I add-I mean, jeez, Jay, what did he do?”
Castiel, meanwhile, looked entirely bewildered throughout the entire exchange. It was only as Chad spoke that final question that he seemed to catch up, realisation dawning across his face. His features turned cloudy, unreadable, and he couldn’t quite meet Jared’s eye-not that Jared was trying to catch his eye that hard, anyway. He kept glancing up at Castiel and then back down at his feet, uncertain of what to say; and he was more than aware of the fact that Chad was watching the entire exchange in a hawk-like manner, eyes narrow, lips pursed.
Eventually, Jared said:
“Nothing, Chad.”
“But-”
“Nothing.”
That seemed to work for the time being.
Chad shrugged his shoulders, spreading his arms wide before saying, “Suit yourself, man; I mean, it’s not like I was fleetingly worried about you, anyway-whatever it was must be well and truly sorted now, because, hey, he is living with you, isn’t he? Except, judging from that sheepish look of embarrassment on your face, Jay-man, whatever it is definitely isn’t sorted-and I’m shutting up now, okay? So quit glaring at me, princess, and make your boyfriend get me a beer instead.”
“You are a massive douche sometimes,” Jared rolled his eyes.
“An astute douche,” Chad corrected, “Who only tells the truth.”
“Figures.”
“Now, dude, seriously-where’s that beer?”
Chad could play the part of the overprotective brotherly figure much better than Jensen could-in fact, he spent a good few hours simply glowering at Castiel, answering any of the angel’s questions with snide, clipped comments and peering knowingly at Jared, who pointedly ignored each and every look. A part of him wanted to scream-wanted to accuse Chad of being uncharacteristically protective of him-but the reasonable side of his mind was pointing out the fact that actually, yes, this was what Chad was like. It had just been a long time since he’d gotten to play that side of his personality.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he listened to Chad regale Castiel with a story about a Russian actress he’d once dated.
“And dude, you should have seen the freaky shit she was into-I mean, seriously…”
He heaved a sigh.
It was going to be a very long night indeed.
i’ve been climbing the walls
but you don’t even notice at all
that i’m going out of my mind
all day and all night
After at least two and a half hours and just as Jared’s eyes were beginning to slip closed, Chad had the brilliant-or, in Jared’s opinion, ridiculous and stupid-idea to do shots; he padded into the kitchen and returned with three shot glasses, as well as a bottle of whiskey. Both Castiel and Jared eyed the stuff warily-their last hangover was still fresh on their minds-before reluctantly letting Chad pour them a shot. One shot ended up turning into seven shots for Jared which, coupled with his already slightly drowsy state, meant that Jared ended up ducking out sooner than usual, but Chad kept valiantly at it, downing shot after shot. After the twelfth, though, it became apparent that he was lagging, having already had a few beers prior to that.
Castiel was on his twenty-first shot, and still going strong.
“Dude-dude-dude, your boyfriend is… I mean, holy shit, that guy can drink,” Chad whistled appreciatively beneath his breath. “I mean-I mean, look at him go. Seriously. There was this one time when I had, uh-sixteen-no, that’s wrong, it’s, uh, nineteen-I had nineteen of them and I’d been drinking before and I had all this beer and I puked all down this chick’s front. She was hot. Well, she was hot before I puked on her.”
Chad sniffed.
“Then she just smelled funny.”
“You’re gross.”
“Actually, she was still kind of hot.”
“You’re really gross.”
“That’s, uh-no, you’re not stopping now, Cas-uh, Castine? Casti… Cas. Just Cas. Drink more, Just Cas.”
“His name is Castiel.”
“Tha’s too long.”
“So’s Chad Michael Murray, but I don’t-I don’t complain,” Jared scrunched up his nose, concentrating as he attempted to pour another shot for each of them. He ended up sloshing most of it over the carpet, and he handed a glass over to Chad a little too vigorously, splashing it down his top.
Chad blinked.
“Dude.”
“Sorry.”
“It doesn’t-it doesn’t matter,” Chad decided, before frowning, brow furrowing as he turned to look at Castiel. “I don’t get it, man; you should be… I mean, you should be dead. Okay, maybe not dead. Or maybe dead. I don’t know. But you definitely shouldn’t be-well, you. You shouldn’t be you.”
Castiel looked affronted.
Jared frowned.
“I like Cas as Cas.”
“Tha’s not what I meant,” Chad amended, glowering down at his shot glass as he tried to rearrange the words which felt jumbled and wrong on his lips. “I meant: how can he-you-Cas-even do that? It shouldn’t be possible. You should be like me or Jared or-or-or-”
“It’s because he’s awesome,” Jared said.
“And you love him so much, right?”
“Righ-fuck you.”
“You said it, princess,” Chad crowed, grinning, “Not me.”
“I hate you.”
“Castiel, man-I think we’re all out of whiskey,” Chad said, and Castiel tilted his head, before reaching for the bottle. They’d already been through at least three, and their fourth one was still half-full; Chad rolled his eyes, snatched the bottle off him, and then promptly poured the contents onto the floor. Letting the now-empty bottle fall to the ground, he said, “Hey, look-now we’re all out of whiskey. Be an angel and get us some more.”
Slowly, Castiel stood up, looking ever so slightly puzzled. Jared watched him as he moved, stepping over the shot glasses, legs brushing against Jared’s shoulder as he walked past; when he stretched, yawning and rubbing his eyes, his shirt did that thing again, lifting to reveal perfect, pale skin, and he couldn’t quite tear his gaze away. He watched, drinking in the sight, and then felt his face flush with embarrassment-the drink; he could blame it all on the drink in the morning, and that would settle that. Still, he couldn’t help but trace Castiel’s movements as he walked into the kitchen-the way he ducked his head slightly, sheepishly, as he caught Jared’s eye; the way his shirt kept riding up and his trousers hung low around his waist; those wonderful hipbones, jagged and sharp; and then a hand closed around his wrist, and Jared’s throat felt dry as he turned to face Chad.
Chad raised an eyebrow.
“See?”
“See what?”
“Do you see that you’re a massive, gigantic, giraffe-sized, Sasquatch idiot?”
“No.”
“We’re going to-we’re going to talk about this, dude,” Chad said, before yawning, slumping forwards and rubbing his head. “But not now. In the morning. But not straight away, cuz my head is going to sting like a motherfucker, okay? But we are going to talk about it-or, well, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”
“Okay,” was all Jared said, and he swallowed and tried his hardest not to think of those hipbones and that chest and pale skin and blue eyes. Instead, he just stared down into his shot glass and crossed his fingers that Chad would forget.
At some point during the night-or the morning, whichever way you wanted to look at it-Jared passed out; thankfully, he passed out after Chad, otherwise he’d probably have woken up with a strip shaved down the middle of his head or a penis drawn across his forehead. Instead, he woke up with his head nestled in a warm, comfortable lap, a hand stroking his arm absently as he let out a soft groan; his head ached, but he felt so… nice. It was weird. Every part of his body was screaming in that dull, throbbing pain-the kind only a killer hangover could bring-and yet, he felt perfectly content. He let out another groan and shifted slightly into a more comfortable position; the hand on his arm paused, hesitating, and he frowned, mumbled, “‘m still asleep, stupid,” and then let his breathing relax.
Five minutes later, Castiel returned to tracing patterns up and down his arm.
Three minutes after that, Jared fell back to sleep.
In the end, Chad didn’t get to have that talk-well, sure, he got to talk, but it was a one-sided thing, with Chad cornering Jared in the kitchen, later that day. Jared had only just begun feeling alright midway through the afternoon, and he’d been heading into the kitchen to go and get his self a drink-and maybe something for Castiel, too, but the angel had fallen asleep, nursing a headache, a troubled frown upon his face-when Chad had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, eyes narrowed. Unfairly, he looked pretty okay; he was holding his mobile phone in his hand, too, brandishing it like it was a weapon.
Squinting, he read the name on the screen.
Eric Brady.
Then he frowned.
“I thought you hated Jen.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“You’ve got a nickname for him.”
“It’s hardly a nickname.”
“Dude, it’s not his actual name-I mean, sure, he played the part of a guy called Eric Brady, but as it’s not his name, and he’s not that person, it’s a nickname. Ergo, you’ve got a nickname for Jensen Ackles.”
“You know, only douches say ‘ergo’.”
“Dickhead.”
“Alright, fine,” Chad scowled, giving in-he looked as if he didn’t particularly want to be having such a conversation at that moment, but he said, “Look, so I’m not exactly the guy’s biggest fan-he’s a pretty-boy actor with blowjob lips and a stupid face and he stole my best friend in the history of ever away from me, just so that he could do some stupid-ass program about two incestuous brothers on one massive-ass roadtrip, and-and he can hear every single thing we’re saying, because this mobile phone isn’t just for show; so yes, I have very grudgingly teamed up with Eric Brady to kick your ass into gear.”
Jared raised an eyebrow.
“Let me talk to Jensen, then.”
For a brief moment, Chad stood where he was, gaping first at Jared and then down at his phone; then his features twisted into a scowl, as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and muttered, “Fine, okay? I didn’t call Eric Brady-but I was going to. At some point. Anyway, I think you’re changing the subject, because you don’t want me to lay it down as it is, Jay-man. So shut up for a second, and let me talk.”
He opened his mouth to speak.
Chad’s glare turned withering.
Leaning back against the kitchen sideboard, Jared decided it would probably be better just to sit this one out. He nodded his head for his friend to carry on with whatever he was about to say, and a grin flashed fleetingly across Chad’s face.
“Look, Jay-I’m not your fairy godmother, and we’re not in a teenage romcom, so I’m not going to tell you to chase your dreams or kiss the boy or whatever clichéd shit it is I’m supposed to say. Hell, I’m kind of confused about the entire situation myself, because I figured you have Sandy, and he has-uh, I don’t know, but he probably has, or had, someone; but the way you look at him, and the way you just go all misty-eyed and fucking gooey at his name-that’s what we call love, gigantaursaurus, and you know that just as well as I do. Well, okay, so at the moment, I’m probably not the best judge, but I do know, believe it or not, and I have seen it, and it’s just there, in your eyes, and in his eyes, and you need to-I don’t fucking know, go forth and conquer. But you won’t. Because you’re just going to sit there in a big pile of homosexual angst, and he’s going to sit there-actually, he just tends to stare blankly, so yeah-and you’re going to keep whatever hasn’t been said and whatever needs to be said silent between you, because you think it’ll be better that way. So-so…”
He scowled, floundering for words.
Then he settled for pointing his finger at Jared, jabbing his chest.
“So grow a pair!”
“Okay.”
“Okay-okay?!”
“Okay,” Jared repeated.
“Dude, I didn’t make that ridiculously long, and yet inspiring, speech just so you could okay it.”
“Sorry, man.”
“Right-right, well, I might as well go, then,” Chad frowned, looking ever so slightly troubled but accepting the okay nonetheless. “I’ve got a girl to see about a blowjob she’s owed me since forever, so yeah-I guess I’ll see you around. And dude, when I next see you, you’d better not be such a-such a-such an idiot.”
“Duly noted.”
“Seriously, Jared-I’m not kidding.”
“I know.”
“Talk to him.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Jay.”
“Dude, okay! Okay! I’ll talk to him, I swear I will-just not when my head is acting like a little bitch, okay?”
Chad stared at him for a long, hard moment.
Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t just a pretty face-just as Jensen wasn’t just a pretty face, and he supposed that the two were so similar in some ways that they just couldn’t get along-and all he had to do was look for a moment, Jared shifting uncomfortably beneath that hard gaze, and then he sighed, threw his hands in the air. He looked defeated. “I tried, man, I tried,” he muttered, and then he made his way over to the door, murmuring a quick goodbye to a newly-awoken Castiel, before disappearing down the corridor and out of their apartment building.
Jared stayed where he was.
Staring down at his hands, he decided it probably was about time they had The Talk.
…just not right now.
Or tonight.
Or tomorrow.
But sometime, definitely.
something’s got to give now
because i’m dying just to know your name
and i need you here with me now
because you’ve got that
one thing
They watched the Season One finale together; Jared hadn’t actually planned on watching it at all-because there was something mortifying about watching yourself act, he’d come to realise over the past few years-but Castiel had been insistent. He’d looked so earnest, eyes so wide and pleading-and yet somehow shadowed at the same time, as if he were hiding something dark and terrible-and Jared had given up and given in; apparently, puppy dog eyes really are the single most effective weapon known to mankind, because here he was, sat with Castiel curled up by his side, watching the Supernatural finale. He’d invited Jensen around, but the other had declined, saying he’d already lived through the experience once and once was enough. Still, he didn’t mind that Jensen wasn’t here.
It was sort of nice without him.
Sure, watching it with his best friend-and co-star-would have been pretty damn hilarious, especially with Jensen’s witty commentary to go with the scenes, but there was something about Castiel that made the entire experience more enjoyable. It was nice to be able to lose himself in the plot for a while, with someone who didn’t see the technical, actor’s side of it all. It was nice to watch Castiel’s reactions, especially as the final scene came into play. Castiel practically jumped out of his skin when the truck came crashing into the side of the Impala, eyes growing wide as he watched the car career and skid as if it were nothing more than a child’s toy. He was leaning forwards in his seat, knuckles white as he gripped his trousers, the shock obvious on his face.
By the end of it, he had an arm looped around one of Castiel’s shoulders and the angel was nestled against his side, transfixed.
It was…
It was just nice.
Yeah, Jared would have that talk at some point.
Sure.
But not now.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
What happened to Friday? And last Friday, and the Friday before that… x
Blinking, Jared stared down at the screen, momentarily nonplussed-and then, eyes widening, he remembered that he’d told Sandy Friday could be their day and yet, he’d barely organised to do anything with her on any of those Fridays. He slapped his palm against his forehead, muttered, “Shit,” beneath his breath, and then tapped back a quick reply. I’m so sorry, x. It was weird how little he’d thought of her lately, and he suddenly felt like a massive dickhead-it was a definite Chad move, really, leading her on just to…
To what?
What was he doing?
He ran his hands through his hair.
“Shit.”
We should talk. x
They went back to the restaurant from before-the posh, Italian one-and Jared bought daffodils again, but this time for an entirely different reason. When he handed them to her, he was sheepish and apologetic, and he couldn’t quite meet her gaze; he was certain he’d see disappointment there, after all, if he looked up. As they walked into the restaurant together, he stayed a step or two behind her, politely holding open doors and pulling her chair out for her; and when he sat down opposite her, he was careful not to let his knee bump against hers. It was all partly because he felt their relationship had lost that flirty quality, but also because it just felt wrong.
They ordered separate starters.
When Sandy’s soup arrived, she ate it quietly.
Jared still couldn’t bring himself to say anything.
Then, finally, she spoke:
“How have you been, Jay?”
“Fine, I guess-uh, busy. I mean, filming has started up for the second season of Supernatural, so that’s pretty awesome,” Jared said, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “And you?”
“It’s been okay, I suppose,” Sandy replied, shrugging a shoulder; her smile was gentle, placating, as if she were trying to soothe a frightened animal, and it was weird how much they’d changed, really. There was still that intimacy, sure, but it wasn’t the same as before. “I’ve had nothing big, not for a while; just a steady stream of small roles, but that’s okay. I’ve been doing a bit more painting; I never really had time for it before, y’know? But now, it’s refreshing; I just-I get to kick back and relax.”
“Sounds nice.”
She hummed beneath her breath.
“It is.”
The conversation fell silent as starters were swapped for main courses; Jared tucked into his food with little enthusiasm, unable to stop his gaze from lingering upon Sandy for too long. It had been at least three or four weeks since he’d last seen her-no, four Fridays exactly, but his meetings with her before then had quickly turned spadoric-and she looked healthy; there was this sort of happy glow about her, and when her eyes flickered up to meet his, he couldn’t hold that look for too long. They didn’t speak much while they were eating, save from the occasional spatter of small talk-insignificant, meaningless little bits of conversation, like: “How’s your lasagne?”, “Have you seen Chad recently?” and “Who is she, then?”
Okay, so maybe the last one wasn’t quite so meaningless.
“Who is she, then?” Sandy asked, not glancing up from her food, her voice casual and light.
Jared’s head shot right up, though, and he paused, fork raised midway towards his mouth, raising an eyebrow. The question threw him momentarily, and he racked his mind for whoever ‘she’ could be referring to. Then, gradually, he realised what Sandy was implying, and he shook his head, feeling vaguely embarrassed. “No, I mean-there was nobody, and there is nobody, and I, uh... I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What?”
“Well, I know you’re sorry, Jay-you’re a good guy, so I believe that. But there-there isn’t no one. It’s obvious in your eyes; they’re soft and gentle and...”
Her voice choked.
Jared felt like even more of a dick than before.
“And I’m happy for you, okay? I might not sound it-and that’s because it does hurt at the moment, and it hurts like a bitch-but I am. I only want you to be happy, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted; and whether that’s with me or someone else, then I don’t mind, because I am, and always will be, your friend. We might not have our happily ever after right here, right now, but I want to know all about the one you’re having at the moment, okay?”
For a moment, Jared was six years old again.
He remembered his sister sitting opposite him, eyes wide and earnest, asking him to tell her all about the angels-and as he looked at Sandy, he thought that maybe she was asking the same question, but just with different words. Unlike with his sister, he wondered if maybe-just maybe-he could tell the whole truth this time; instead of skipping details and bending small facts to hide himself, maybe he could spill it all out. Maybe that was what Sandy was offering. Lowering his fork, he pressed his hand on top of hers, over the table, squeezing gentle; it was both a gesture of comfort-her voice had cracked after all, so she was obviously sad about the entire situation; and rightly so-and to thank her. She must have understood that, because her face split into that glowing smile she had; the one where she seemed to smile with her entire body, her eyes crinkling, shoulders hunching, mouth beaming.
She placed her hand on top of his.
Then, slowly, he said:
“When I was six years old, I had this friend.”
And he told her his story.
But not all of it.
He skipped out the part where he made a wish on a falling star, only to see that star plummet into his backyard; he skipped out the part where, after trekking out into the dark, he found out that that star was, in fact, an extremely naked fallen angel called Castiel. He skipped out the part where he kept said angel in his room, hidden from his family, and he made sure to skip the part where he saw those wings-brilliant and glorious-spread across his bedroom, powerful, huge. He didn’t tell her about the fact that his childhood friend actually happened to be an angel, and he didn’t tell her that Jensen knew that as well, and that maybe his family had come to expect it.
He didn’t tell her any of that.
Instead, he told her about the way his heart hammered when he caught a glimpse of that pale skin or how he felt that sometimes those blue eyes could look straight through him. He told her about how he there was this sense of belonging; like he needed Castiel by his side, and he told her about how he’d felt it for so long-how he’d kept his window open for so long because of it, and although she raised her eyebrow at that, he didn’t elaborate. He told her about how they could do the tiniest, simplest, most mundane of things together and Jared would still be having the time of his life; hell, even washing up had become entertaining, with Jared scooping bubbles up and placing them upon the tip of a rather confused Castiel’s nose. He told her about how everything just felt right.
And, as he opened up to Sandy, it was as if he were finally admitting the truth to himself. Everything suddenly became clearer, the details sharp and bright, and he couldn’t help the foolish grin from spreading across his face-he’d been an idiot, and both Chad and Jensen had spotted that straight away, although Jensen had been slightly more subtle about the entire matter. He was still being an idiot.
Once he was finished, Sandy smiled at him.
It was a pure, genuine smile, bittersweet and happy at the same time, and she said, softly, gently, “It sounds as though he’s perfect, Jay.”
“I guess.”
“Have you said anything to him?”
“No-I mean, I don’t even know if he feels the same, and, anyway, it’s not like I’d know what to say, anyway,” Jared paused, tilting his head, furrowing his brow; and, for a second, that secret little smile flitted across his lips, because it was a Castiel movement he’d just done and he was well aware of that fact.
“Liar.”
“What?”
“Liar-you know exactly what to say,” Sandy said, and then her smile turned bright-sunshine bright-and it made his heart sing and scream all at the same time, and her eyes were beautiful as she finished, “You just said it all to me.”
He stayed for another couple of hours with Sandy; their conversation gradually grew more relaxed, punctuated by the occasional awkward silence, until they were laughing again, grinning and leaning in against one another as Jared maybe drank a little bit too much. In all fairness, though, Sandy matched him every glass for glass, and they ended up staggering slightly, his arm slung around her shoulders, as they left the restaurant. They attempted to hail a taxi for a good five minutes, before finally a yellow car pulled up alongside them and Sandy broke away from him.
They looked at each for a moment.
“So,” Sandy said.
“So,” Jared said.
“You’re not going to steal this one from me, as well, are you?”
He winced. “Sorry about that.”
“No harm done,” she laughed, flapping a hand in dismissal. “Another pulled up a few minutes later, so we’re cool.”
He chuckled.
Silence reigned.
“I guess I’ll, uh-I’d better head off, then,” Jared said finally, breaking the unbearable quiet; he couldn’t quite meet her gaze, for fear of what he’d find there. “It was really, really nice seeing you again, Sandy, honestly; and I’m sorry. About everything. I really, truly am. And if I wasn’t such a giant moron, I’d have told you that before, I really would, but I am a giant moron.”
“It can’t be helped.”
“Yeah.”
“Your ridiculous height probably means it takes longer for oxygen to get to your brain, after all. It’s no wonder you’re so ditzy.”
“Don’t push it.”
Her laughter was pretty, then; like a bell, or honey, or something equally sweet. Jared couldn’t stop himself grinning, slightly triumphant that he’d managed to break the awkward silence by making her laugh-and then he froze as her hand brushed gently across his cheek, leading his head downwards. Standing on tip-toe, she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss; and then, just as quickly, she broke away, smiling. It was a sad smile, and yet it was oh so sweet at the same time.
“One for the road, Jay,” she said, and then Sandy opened the door of the taxi and ducked inside. He stayed where he was, watching the car pull away; and then the brake lights flashed, and the car reversed back towards him. He watched as Sandy rolled the window down, before beaming at him as she said, “Oh, and Jay? You tell him exactly as you told me, and there’s no way he could ever say no.”
“I know you’re an angel of the Lord, and that probably means that you’re all Holy and badass and stuff-and hell, I don’t even know whether or not you’re… you’re like that, but I-I mean, I just think we’re good. As in us. And not just good, actually-I think we’re amazing, and that you’re brilliant, and that… well, I think I’ve always been close to you, because, I mean, why else would I obsess over you-without consciously admitting I’m obsessing over you-for the majority of my life? Actually, that might have something to do with the fact that you’re an angel and, well, people are generally either attracted or repelled by things they don’t understand, like magnets, and-and…”
Jared slapped his palm against his forehead as he walked down the street, the cool night air hitting his face; it was probably just past ten ‘o’ clock, and he frowned, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of his little speech.
“Shit-this is shit!”
“Okay, Cas-I’m just going to say it like it is, because that’s how it should be said, y’know? So, I, uh-I’m really into you. You’re attractive-no, you’re beautiful-actually, handsome; you’re handsome, because that’s manlier, and you have really pretty eyes.”
He scowled.
“…really pretty eyes?” He repeated, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, Jared, you must be a poet.”
“I think I’m in love with you,” Jared said, and it felt right-the words tumbled easily from his lips, safe and true, and he grinned at that, the joy obvious on his face, in his movements, in his step. He felt brighter, suddenly, and lighter, and there was this sudden exhilaration, anticipation, which rushed through his body, stronger than anything else.
That was the truth.
He was in love with an angel.
At that, he broke into a sprint.
He was in love.
With an angel.
With his angel.
He loved Castiel.
And he was going to tell him that. Sure, it would be messy-Jared was practically certain of that fact, because he’d come to believe that all good relationships are-but he knew he’d be able to get past that; they could wrap up any of their loose ends together, when he’d said all he needed to. They could have The Talk then. Jesus, they could have as many talks as they wanted, then-as many as they needed, and Jared wouldn’t care, because he loved Castiel and that was all that mattered.
Jared took the steps to his apartment two at a time, practically thundering up them-he wasn’t patient enough to wait for the elevator, and, besides, the adrenaline flowing through his veins helped him power onwards. He raced down the corridor, dodging Mrs Smith rather nimbly; she smiled and waved as he passed, saying something he didn’t quite hear, and he only just managed to bring himself to a stop outside the door of his apartment. His fingers fumbled with his keys, and he was grinning-beaming from ear to ear-when he finally managed to push it open; then he skidded into the living room, a name on his lips immediately:
“Cas, there’s something I need to-”
He froze.
The room was empty.
It was strange, really, how quickly that exhilaration and excitement could turn into panic; he checked every room in his apartment, moving swiftly through the bedroom to his bathroom and then into the tiny spare room-he checked the kitchen, despite the fact that he could see into it from the living room, and then he swore.
It wasn’t fair.
He’d just figured everything out.
And Castiel-
“Cas?”
He was gone.
All that was left was a single open window.
so get out, get out, get out of my head
and fall into my arms instead
i don't
i don't know what it is
but i need that one thing
and you've got that one thing
Once upon a time, some asshole said, "Some things are too good to last," and, ever since, Jared's life seemed to be following that mantra.
Sinking down onto the sofa, he let his arms fall across his knees as he leaned forwards slightly, a frown plastered across his face. It was odd, really--before, probably near the beginning of Castiel's return, he probably would have been able to say that if the angel left, he'd be okay; right at the beginning, though, when he'd still been in that mixed state of bitterness, surprise and slight happiness. Back when he hadn't been quite sure of himself, he probably would have been sure enough of himself to say that he was prepared for the angel's departure--because he'd left once before, and what was to stop him from doing it again?
Apparently nothing.
If anything, that stung. That really stung.
At first, part of him had been certain that Castiel had gone to walk the dogs; he'd started doing that a lot recently, after all, and so he'd figured it probably wasn't a far stretch to think that maybe he was doing it again. The only problem with that theory, though, was that Castiel would have to have the dogs to be walking them, and considering how Harley had been curled up on Jared's bed, and Sadie lingering in the kitchen for food, he judged that it was probably pretty unlikely that Castiel was giving them a walk. He frowned, placing his head in his hands; this wasn't fair. It wasn't. He hadn't done all of this--shit, he hadn't gone through what had to be the most life-changing realisation he'd ever come to realise just for this. Part of him wanted to shout and rant and rage. The other part of him was more than content with slouching on the couch, feeling sorry for himself.
It was the latter side of him which won out in the end, and he slumped, peering down at his hands. He must have sat like that for at least fifteen minutes--maybe twenty at a push--before his arms began to feel dead, and he stood, stretching.
And the door opened.
Jared froze.
Castiel walked in, carrying two bags of shopping in his hands; groceries, by the look of it--he could see flour and eggs and milk, and, absently, he wondered if Castiel planned on doing baking again lately. The angel paused when he spotted Jared, tilting his head. "You're back. I would have left a message stating where I was, but I wasn't expecting you to return so early."
He couldn't reply.
Castiel's expression switched from curiosity to anxiety.
"You've gone pale."
"Jesus, Cas--"
"Are you ill?"
"No, I mean--I thought you'd gone."
For a few moments, Castiel just stood there, brow furrowed as he considered the words; and then, ever so gradually, his eyes widened in realization, and then his features cleared almost entirely. The edges of a slight, sad smile tugging at his lips, and with his blue eyes gazing straight at Jared, he said, "I would never leave you--not again. Not now. Never again."
Jared didn't think then.
It was probably the only choice he didn't even have to think about.
He closed the distance between them, quickly, easily; placed a hand against Castiel's side, feeling sharp, jutting hipbones beneath his fingertips, and tugged the other closer, until there was nothing between them--until it was obvious that there would never be anything between them, and when that gap was gone, Jared leaned down, brushing his lips softly against his angel's forehead. He felt Castiel breathe in, short and sharp, and that was all he needed; with a hand gently guiding Castiel's chin upwards, tilting his face towards him, Jared captured his angel's lips in a kiss.
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