SPN Cinema posting day #1: Beyond the Spotlight (Jared/Jensen, R)
It's the first day of posting at spn_cinema, and I'm among the scheduled early posters. So, uh, here it is. If you haven't seen Bridesmaids, take it from me, it's not as fluffy as the publicity makes it look. Hence, fic.
Title Beyond the Spotlight
Author Brutti ma buoni
Movie Prompt: Bridesmaids
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating R
Word count 7000
Summary Jensen never thought that much about weddings till his best friend got embroiled in the wedding of the year, at the same time that Jensen's life got flushed down the toilet. Tom's happy, and that's great, but he's moving further away from Jensen, the contrast of their lives pointed up in every damn wedding exchange, which Jensen messes up with depressing regularity. Meeting Jared is the only part of the wedding bullshit that's good news, but is Jensen spiralling so far down that he can't see the possibilities?
Notes/Warnings If you haven't seen the film, it is the one in which Kirstin Wiig is funny and tragic as a woman whose life is collapsing at the same time as her best friend is getting married with maximum hoopla. She has a bad, bad relationship with [Jon Hamm] and a possibly happier one with [Chris O'Dowd]. This story genderswaps and J2s it up, but it’s a fairly straight retelling. Jared's character merges two from the film, which will only bother you if you know the original. Jensen's messed up. He's sleeping with another man, debatably cheating on either him or Jared, depending on how you look at it, at one point. So, Jensen/Other and infidelity warnings. Though he doesn't enjoy it at all. *nods*
So, losing your best friend always sucks. That part isn't a surprise. But, you know, Tom was always going to get married. Tom's a great guy. A perfect guy.
No, Jensen's not in love with Tom. Stop it. People always ask that, and that's not what's happening. They're closer than brothers, and it's not about sex. It's about being thirteen and telling your friend you're gay before you ever touch another guy, and having him hug you close the way boys your age never, ever do, and say, "Dude, whatever, if it's you, I'm there." It's about holding Tom's hand when Elise is in the clinic, aborting his baby, and knowing he would have raised that kid and ruined his life gladly, but he's living by the principles his momma drummed in, that it's Elise's body and Elise's choice, and getting him shit drunk that night so he'll cry it out like he needs. And more, and more, over twenty years of being each other's soul sibling.
Except, not any more. Tom has a new soul twin, and they get to get married.
But Delphi is great. She's going to be so good for Tom. Jensen will never be sorry that Tom's finding happiness with someone as good as he deserves. And yes, weddings come with a side order of bullshit that Jensen has never fully appreciated before being suckered into being one of Tom's best men (one of them, please note - the universe would be offended by Jensen in his current state being deemed actually 'best' at anything - and yes, pity party, suck my dick, Jensen has reasons). The sheer number of events, rituals, gifts, drinks parties, family brunches, usher bar crawls… It's endless, but it's happy. It's good. Jensen's glad to be a part of it.
It's just that Jensen's life has turned to shit in a quick eighteen month spell of badness, just while Tom and Delphi really got it together. And watching Tom shine into happiness hasn't actually compensated Jensen entirely for the loss of love and dreams and optimism and, you know, money and apartment and having to move back into his Mom's place.
It would be weird if Tom's life had compensated for that, wouldn't it?
Jensen's thinking this while being pounded into the mattress, again. It offends his sense of how the universe is that someone as good looking and charming as Ty should be just so bad in bed. Not painfully, not teachably, just tediously. But this is the only fun part of Jensen's current life, for a certain value of fun, and he's still reluctant to give up on it. Ty charmed him, and on the rare occasions Ty deigns to be seen with him, people get why they're together and give them a little kudos for it. But on the other hand, Ty's been ineffectually going at Jensen for (he sneaks a look at the alarm), god, a half hour, the same thrusts and panting and sound effects galore, and Jensen's feeling nothing except increasing soreness and the uncomfortable drag of his soft dick against Ty's high-thread-count sheets. None of which Ty notices as he comes, loud and triumphant in Jensen's ear.
"That was great, babe," he says, after a couple minutes. "You want to shower before you go?"
God forbid, Jensen should stay longer than an hour after sex. Actually, an hour is pushing it. He showers, mostly to get rid of the rivers of lube Ty squirted everywhere, and also in the hope he'll feel somewhat less reluctant to sit down, ever again, after some soothing hot water. By the time he makes it out to his shitheap of a car, he knows that part didn't take. Tomorrow morning's going to hurt like hell.
The all night garage minimart is open, which is good. Jensen needs something. Alcohol, possibly. Hell, he'd take heroin if someone offered it just now, except he wouldn't because that's a stupid mental exaggeration, but really Jensen feels like he could do something stupid just now. Like he's right on the edge of life crumbling away entirely, leaving him pedalling in mid-air like Road Runner. Except he won't bounce when he hits the floor.
He's staring at a freezer full of gourmet ice cream which is really outside his budget now, like everything else, when a familiar voice says, "Jensen? You okay?"
He's smiling even as he turns around. Jared's a fellow usher. One of the better parts, one of the very, very few decent parts, of this whole wedding shit. He's also a cop, evidently working night shift just now because he's in uniform, and the 'You okay' had a tiny side of 'or should I be professionally concerned' to it.
Jensen needs to not get arrested, and also wants to chat with Jared because it's something not-awful to do on an awful night, so he starts off trying to sound a) sober and b) sane. "Crappy night. I was thinking ice cream, but then it's so sweet, and it's cold, and I don't know if I'm in the mood for that. Chips, maybe?"
Jared gestures to his own carrier. "Or carrot sticks?" Figures. Jared's not into junk foods at all, this much has become clear during a series of foofy wedding events they've previous met at. But carrot sticks sound okay for Jensen's mood, and Jared's apparently offering to share, so they leave the store together and end up sitting on the bonnet of Jared's cop car. Is that okay? Apparently so. Jared seems unworried, though frowns flicker across his face whenever Jensen winces, since both sitting and moving are really not going well tonight.
"So, I'm taking it you're not in need of hospitalisation," he says after a while.
"No…" Jensen munches on a carrot stick. It's pretty good, actually, and doesn't come with a side of self-loathing. "Just… why do the cute ones turn out to be the worst in bed? And why hasn't that led me to logical conclusions, like not doing it again?"
Jared looks up at the starry sky, and ventures, "Because you're depressed and lonely?" Which is brutal, maybe, but also true, and over a few meetings of this nature, Jared's teased out so much of Jensen's current life-wreck that is doesn't seem too harsh.
Jensen lets his head thunk backward, slumps on the bonnet to a more comfortable position. "You are so right, my friend. So, so right. Also, I'm sorry about the churrasco incident. Did I say that?"
Jared waves it away. "Not like you didn't, uh, suffer, along with the rest of us. And I thought it was a great idea. Just a shame about the food hygiene." They sit silently for a second, remembering the projectile… everything… that resulted from the whole food poisoning/wedding outfit fitting trauma. Jensen can't actually recall whether Jared managed to score one of the toilets at the exclusive outfitters, or whether he was among the guys crapping in the sinks or on the (oh god) road, and he's mostly grateful for that. The less he remembers, the happier he will be. But it’s not like other people will forget.
"Tom, uh, I need to make it up to Tom," he says, now. "But everyone else wants some bachelor party Vegas extravaganza, and I just- I don't have the money."
Jared shrugs. "Yeah? Well, Tom will like something closer. Vegas isn't the only option."
"Chad thinks it is," says Jensen, gloomily. "And he'll pay for it, too, most likely, but-"
Chad Michael Murray. Fucking Chad. Everything Jensen isn't and never will be: rich, successful, obnoxiously social. He makes Tom laugh the way Jensen once did, and he's the other best man. And he's doing it better than Jensen by several miles. Losing Tom to a happy marriage is one thing, but losing Tom to Chad? Tom knows better. Except apparently Tom can't see that. Jensen rants, and then remembers, "Uh, sorry, he's probably a friend of yours," since Jared's Delphi's favourite cousin and Delphi's very much of Chad's world.
"Not particularly," says Jared, sounding completely unworried. "More carrot?" He munches meditatively. There's something about his whole posture that relaxes Jensen. Jared likes sitting on his car bonnet, looking at the sky, eating carrots. It's not a pose. He's not expecting admiration from Jensen. He just wanted to share something that works for him. It kind of works for Jensen too. Unknotting the evening. Knowing that this guy, at least, doesn't blame him for the churrasco disaster.
"How'd you get into this wedding shit, anyway?" Jensen asks. "It doesn't seem like your gig."
Jared wrinkles his nose, a gesture Jensen's noted before, and enjoyed. "Well, Delphi asked, and I'm terrible at saying no. Even when she was three and I was six, I'd always give in to her." Jensen laughs, because he can totally see that. Jared's about the most relaxed guy he's ever seen. "And she said it was a good way to meet guys, so… She knows my weaknesses."
Guys? Really? Jensen's gaydar has let him down badly. "You pick up guys at wedding events?"
"I'm looking for love," says Jared, cheerfully, like it's not some crazed romantic bullshit. "I feel like… I don't know, I feel good. Loving my job, liking this place, time to be happy with someone else, right?"
Jensen tries, he really, really tries, but his face must say something akin to Good luck, you dumb naïve fuck, because Jared's face falls. "I'm sorry," Jensen says, fast and backpedalling. "It's great. It really is. Ignore me." But he can't resist adding, "That's where I was with Jeff, couple years back. Had it all worked out."
"But you can still write, right?" Jared asks. "It sucks about your bookstore, I know, I miss that place, and it was only around a few months that I was even living here. But it's not the only place you're allowed to have words on paper, is it?"
"No," is all Jensen can say. Because of course not. And Jared's not the first person to point this out, far from it. He's more tolerable than most, less pushy, but he still evidently doesn't get it. "I can't, turns out. Not living with my mom. Not with maybe an hour or two on her crappy old freeze-and-crash PC a couple nights a week. I've never been able to write longhand for composition. Even if I wasn't so much in my head, right now, I'm not sure the words would come."
Jared's been relaxed, chilling out, looking at the stars, but he turns toward Jensen with those words. "Really? Damn. I'm so sorry."
Jensen runs. Through the medium of slipping off the car hood, skittering uncomfortably over to his own junker and driving off with barely a "Yeah, well, gotta run". Not quick, not dignified, but sure. Can’t handle someone being real about such tender spots in his psyche. Not today.
Maybe not ever. But that’d be damn depressing, so it’s a thought he pushes away. Throughout the disastrous exchanges of views and opinions that lead, of course they do, to the Vegas bachelor party Jensen hates and cannot possibly afford.
*
To Chad’s first class airline ticket splash. To Jensen tense as hell in coach, terrified, because planes, he does not do. Rejecting charity bailouts, but that just leaves him alone with lots and lots of the poor and - it turns out - also terrified airline clientele.
He tries to cover. Then tries to drink to forget. Then he plain old walks into first class, to get to Tom, to remind himself what all this is about. Or get to Jared and his comforting presence, because if anyone can survive a plane crash, Jensen’s suddenly convinced it’s Jared Padalecki. And Jared’s cool. Kind, even. Chad is really not. Unfortunately, it's Chad that has the free space by him, and Chad that Jensen talks to in the short time before he's evicted from first class to tremble back in coach.
Jensen tries to pretend, after, that he truly believes Chad spiked his drink, but he’s pretty sure he downed whatever the hell Chad passed him voluntarily, not caring what it was so long as he stopped wanting to scream and punch a hole in the fuselage. He vaguely remembers Jared’s concerned look at some point, and also speaking into the intercom, something about terrorists, or was it engine failure? A lot of screaming, anyways. He remembers the emergency landing. And he remembers the bus back, from Nebraska. All the way. With his head swimming, stomach rebelling, and the simmering fury of eight Vegas-bachelor-party-ready dudes spending their weekend on backroad transport instead.
Well, seven. He’s leaning on Jared most of the way, and Jared’s not exactly mad. A little confused (“So, you’re broke and terrified of airplanes, and you booked a Vegas trip for us why? Tom doesn’t even like Vegas…”), but not mad. Jensen may cling, somewhat. But then Jensen’s drunk and on some nameless drug cocktail that Chad thinks only pussies find problematic, so he has an alibi.
Unlike Tom. Jensen can’t really defend himself against Tom’s fury. It was a shitty disaster of a bachelor weekend, and everybody lost out, and it’s totally Jensen’s fault. Which isn't what friends have in mind when nominating best men. So. When he ends up not speaking to Tom, it’s pretty much what he deserves.
“It’s not, you know,” says Jared, one night a few weeks later. They’re sitting in the minimart car park, in the dark again. Jared’s even eating carrots. On the good side, Jensen didn’t just get fucked raw, badly, this time, so he’s a little more comfortable on the hood of Jared’s police vehicle. It’s not a date. It’s just he knows where Jared is when he feels miserable. And Jared makes him feel less miserable. Especially at night, when the world is silent, and Jensen has nothing to do but focus on just how penniless and alone he is.
Tonight, for example, they’ve been doing speed checks on passing cars. It being pledge week, they’ve caught and fined a fair few. Well, technically Jared has. Jensen’s not allowed to do anything official. But he’s watched. And used the speed gun sometimes, because it’s a literal point/click thing and even comprehensive fuck-ups like Jensen can’t actually mess with the legal process by operating it. He hopes.
Jared gets off at 2am. It’s pretty quiet by then. Just a couple desperate late night shoppers - diapers, hard liquor, medical supplies for the dying, Jared says, and so far Jensen hasn’t seen a shopper that doesn’t fit one of the above needs. “Policemen know a lot about people,” he says, suddenly. It doesn’t sound more intelligent said aloud.
“You need to go to bed,” says Jared, cheerfully.
“You too,” Jensen responds. Automatic. But their eyes meet as he says it, and it’s possible that the thought Jensen is having is happening to Jared too.
“I need to check in with the station,” is Jared’s only immediate response.
Jensen waits while Jared radios in. “Heading home,” is his signoff. Their eyes meet again, through the windshield this time. Jared tilts his head in invitation, and Jensen slides off the hood, into the front seat. “So-“ Jared tries.
“Yeah,” Jensen answers.
Jared doesn’t live far off, and they travel in near silence. But it’s easy. Soft silence. Easy gestures, when they arrive, and Jensen falls into Jared’s home. Scruffy and welcoming, good smelling and warm. Jared has a home that matches his persona, like he’s a whole, real human being. Jensen tries to say some of that (it mostly comes out as “Great place”, but he thinks Jared gets it), but they’re kissing before it turns into anything awkward, and he’s soon in Jared’s rumpled but soft-sheeted bed, wrapped around those lanky muscles, trying to absorb that whole, real person into his own broken, fucked up self.
Jared must feel it, because, “Easy, there,” is the first thing he says when their mouths detach.
And it is. It really is. Jared's just that kind of guy who guts Jensen with his openness, honest about what works and what could be better. Laughing at his own klutziness when they bump forehead to nose. Going down on Jensen with vocal enthusiasm and plenty of the right kind of pressure to take Jensen a long way down the road to satisfaction. Cautious and focused in opening him up, tongue tip even poking out the side of his mouth in a way that shouldn't be either cute or hot, but when he's that determined on making Jensen feel good, it's hard not to call it both. Once inside him, Jared's grinding, not pounding, getting them as close as possible to each other, kissing sloppily, panting with pleasure, not about the ego, all about the touch.
Jensen comes so hard it splatters high between them, squishing unpleasantly as Jared keeps up the easy, slow grind a moment longer till he gives up control in his turn.
God, it's not perfect, maybe, but it's good. It leaves Jensen shaken with how much Jared just shared, and how easily. Jensen used to live that way, he thinks. But he doesn't remember how.
There's comfortable mutual showering afterward, and then Jared wraps an arm around Jensen's waist and drags him back to bed. It's so late that the first stirrings of dawn are sounding outside, and though Jensen feels tension oozing back already, it doesn't take hold before he's asleep.
When he wakes, it's a bright, beautiful morning. Late, judging by how the sun is in the sky. He stretches, feeling contented sex seeping through used muscles. Jared's not in the bed, but there are noises elsewhere in the apartment, and when Jensen stumbles into shirt and jeans, barefoot and tousled, he finds Jared in the kitchen. With bagels and juice and coffee. Jensen considers marrying him. Not with the Tom level of wedding bullshit. Just so he can have this every day.
*
Seventeen minutes later, Jensen's slamming out of the apartment. He can feel, even as he does it, just how stupid he's being. How Jared was being nice, not pitying. Or, even if a little bit of pity, constructive pity that might just help Jensen get back something he loved.
And yeah, Jared maybe could have let Jensen eat more than one half-bagel and a sip of coffee before bringing out the 'spare' ipad. Or at least the keyboard. Which is a proper keyboard, not one of those crappy spongy ones. And no way in hell did Jared just have that kicking around, no big deal, who needs this, oh look I've got lots of kit, why don't you have it and maybe do some writing while you're here. Maybe take it with you. But he didn't. And maybe Jensen can pretend it's hunger that drove him to respond so… uh, loudly.
Hello, Jensen Ackles. You're thirty-five years old and you're a charity case for public officials. Feeling good about that?
He blew a fuse. Or ten. And walked. And now he has to live with that.
That's really where the death spiral starts. Jensen recognises it, but he doesn’t try to arrest it. Why would he? He's getting about what he deserves. He can't hold a relationship. Can't appreciate a nice guy trying to help. Gets pounded into the mattress by a guy like Ty who Jensen knows deep down (not even all that deep) is a dickwad of gigantic proportions, because at least it takes his mind off reality. Stops applying for jobs that even vaguely sound of interest, because why would he get them? One dark and rainy night, he considers the Help Wanted sign in the minimart, but can't face Jared. Stops even trying to write on his mom's crappy ass PC.
Tries, and fails, to forget just how hurt Jared looked while Jensen blew up at him. Just how much he could have had if he could only have smiled and thanked Jared and pretended to write something and moved on from the pit of failure. Cranked out a short story, maybe, or an essay. The kind of shit he used to produce for fun, on a whim. Not the tough stuff. Jensen has no idea if Jared ever read any of his poetry. Probably not. Almost nobody did. But that's the stuff that's most completely gone, and what hurts the worst. Even if the comprehensive life fuckup he has been committing ever since losing the bookstore and Jeff is getting to hurt pretty bad of itself.
Did Jensen really holler something about fuck you and your cheap, do-gooding, mediocre existence? Because that was rude, stupid and self-destructive, and he's not surprised he remembers Jared looking ill. Not furious, just queasy at how Jensen can't begin to get ahold of himself. It floats in his dreams, sometimes. And Jensen has so little to do except dream just now. No work, no creativity. No Tom.
He really fucking misses Tom. Tom would listen to Jensen's death spiral, and kick his butt, and make him play one on one till he can at least sleep some nights. And make him apologise to Jared, face to face, man to man, instead of tacking a handwritten apology note onto Jared's front door, and watching it grow damp, sticky, flyblown. That note was probably the best thing Jensen's written since the bookstore closed down. Heartfelt. Important. Nakedly honest.
He really wishes he'd kept a copy.
Meantime, the wedding bullshit swarms on. Jensen puts in appearances at showers and brunches and meet-ups and he looks, probably also smells, like shit but the food is free and it's a little better than sitting on his mother's couch eating potato chips and waiting for death. Tom avoids him. Jared avoids him. Chad, the fucker, absolutely doesn't avoid him, and it's Chad's ostentatious sniff that really makes Jensen start to question his personal hygiene. Jensen's last good suit and two good shirts get dry-cleaned after that one, and fuck the expense. If he has to, he'll parade like the last chimp at the wedding fair for another three weeks till Tom and Delphi finally tie the knot and all this is over. And Jensen will… what? He has absolutely no idea. But he's going to get through this part, before he finds out what the next worst thing is that's going to happen.
Ty doesn't avoid him. Or, more precisely, avoids and ignores him like usual apart from two even-more-blatant-than-before booty calls. ("I heard you were down and out, Ackles," he says, the first time, and doesn't even bother to pour them drinks before getting down and dirty.) The second time, Jensen's so fucking angry, he gets out of Ty's car at one a.m. on a deserted highway, probably ten miles from home, and just starts walking. Ty drives alongside awhile, cajoling, demanding the stupid, dangerous, not-at-all-sexy blowjob that is the reason Jensen's walking along the roadside in shoes that have two holes in at the last count.
Which is when the police show up. "Fuuuuuuck," says Ty, and floors it. Jensen watches his tail-lights, wondering just what the idiot thought could possibly happen here. Unless he has weed, which is pretty likely, come to think of it.
He's also watching the tail-lights to avoid the eyes of the pissed off cop who has been trying to ignore him for too long. "Are you in trouble?" the cop says, mildly.
"Just taking a walk," Jensen responds.
Jared takes up where Ty left off, slowly shadowing Jensen's steps. "You're walking pretty funny," he says.
Which, so would you with leaky shoes and an aching ass, thinks Jensen, and some of it maybe shows upon his face. Jared's mouth twists. "He's a dick," he points out, needlessly.
"Who?"
"Ty Watson. The guy who fucks you and ignores you and leaves you by the roadside when the cops show up," says Jared, and it's pretty undeniable. And Jared doesn't even know how bad the sex is with Ty, or he'd definitely have thrown that into the dismal mix. Jensen keeps on walking, looking like a fool, with a cop car trailing him and Jared talking out of the window. Mostly variations on the “you don’t help yourself” and “Jen, would you please at least get in the damn car, don’t think I can’t find something to arrest you for in an emergency, you moron” themes. When Jensen eventually caves, he’s twice the fool because he could have done this a mile back and had fewer blisters. He looks out of the window. Ignores Jared right till the end of the ride back to his place. His mom’s place.
Then. “Look. I owe you a big apology, I know that. Do you want to hear it?”
Jared shrugs. “If you mean it, I guess.” He looks uncomfortable. Good. That makes two in this car. Jensen feels about six years old.
“I’m sorry I got mad when you were trying to do something nice for me. I’m sorry I’m such a fuckup that I’ve managed to drag you into my mess. I’m sorry about the food poisoning and Vegas and the fact the wedding shit will have a side of Tom wanting me to die, which hopefully Delphi won’t pick up on.”
“She knows, Jensen. Everybody knows,” Jared points out.
“Not helping.”
“Not trying to,” Jared shoots back. Which is fair. “I think the only person who can help you at this point is probably you. If you won’t accept anything from anyone else, there’s really only Jensen Ackles to fall back on. Just, you know, do it. Stop falling back on fucking Ty and self-pity.” He pulls over. They’re back at the Ackles house. Super. Jensen gets out of the car, letting Jared’s final words echo through him. Fucker. He’s right, but still, fucker.
He limps inside, with a bare wave to Jared, as the police car speeds off. “Uh, thanks?” he adds. Because, really, Jared’s still helping. Even though he pretends he’s not.
*
It’s at that point that things do start to get a little better in Jensen’s world. Not, you know, a lot, because monumental life-fucks don’t just stop being fucked up because the fuckee gets his head out of his ass. But nonetheless. There’s some progress. Jensen talks with his mom, a little. Also with a couple friends from the book trade, who have nothing whatsoever to do with weddings, which can only be good for his head. He gets two very, very small literature teaching gigs, one a private school and one the community college, but both want him a couple hours per week, both see something in him other than a monumentally failed bookstore owner. Both have libraries, computers and wifi, and give faculty privileges to even temp staff, within reason. So he has some ego-food, a chance to use his brain, and a place to write. He also takes two night shifts per week at the minimart, because, you know, money. And also insomnia, so, why not?
His new work and riches enable him to pay his mom for food, at least. Self-respect, not entirely lost. He can see the future, and it’s long and dull, and his level of financial loss isn’t going to get easier any time soon. But he’s not going crazy with boredom and inertia now. So. Good. And he can write, now. Not good stuff (but then, when did he ever think his stuff was good?). But words, strung together. Meaning something. He sends two poems to a literary magazine, for the first time in over a year. And he roughs out a YA novel, first chapter draft and all, and sends it round agents. Likely, this will go nowhere, but it feels a little different than his past failed efforts. It’s possibly based a little too blatantly on Jared’s world, but it’s loose and funny, so Jensen’s hoping he’s captured a little of what he enjoys about the guy. Cops really do find out a lot about people, and he's looking forward to exploring that if he can get a publisher interested.
So. Yeah. Progress. Less so regarding wedding crap. It’s been decided (by Chad, or possibly Chad-and-Tom) that it’s too late to keep Jensen out of the wedding completely. But all he has to do is stand. By Tom, for the ceremony. (Chad has the ring.) And then in the receiving line, and then sit for the dinner, and then get the hell out of Tom’s world. Right? At least all this will be over, and Jensen won’t have to look at contrasting lifestyles and happy, happy people much longer.
Also, Jared will be at the wedding. Jensen’s seen him a few times around the minimart. And Jared, being a friendly guy, hasn’t pretended not to see Jensen in his new minion role. So they’ve exchanged civil words, at least. Jensen even let drop that he was writing a little, and Jared high-fived him the way he might have before sex, rage and Jensen sleeping with Ty completely drove him away. It’s a start. And Jared's looking for love at the wedding, so maybe he'll be receptive to Jensen getting a little closer again.
It would be a gross and terrible exaggeration to say that Jensen’s more cheerful. But the death spiral has stopped. That has to be a good thing.
The next thing that happens is the wedding. Or, you know, almost.
*
Jensen’s cellphone goes off when he’s at work. College work, meaning teaching, meaning he can’t just stop and answer, or take a break for a second. So he ignores it. When it rings again, he switches the volume off, and continues. When he next checks, after Sandy finishes presenting her piece, he has eight missed calls. From Chad.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong with Tom, because Chad may be an asshole but he wouldn’t call Jensen this number of times about boutonnieres. Jensen looks up at the class, and realises they’re adult enough to hear the truth. “Guys, I’m sorry, someone’s trying to call me urgently. I’m assuming it’s a big deal. Could Tamara present, and if I’m not back, Jon lead the critique?” The class mostly looks bored, but parts of it look concerned at second hand, and both Tamara and Jon nod, accepting responsibility, just in case.
It’s a thing about Jensen that people looking at him now wouldn’t guess. He used to be a perfectionist. Control freak, even. His shop was his shop, and his word was law. It’s a peculiar thing, to give up this control even for a second. To admit he’s a human being.
He wonders, even as he calls Chad back, whether if he’d asked for help earlier, he might have saved the store. Just said, 'Guys, I'm not sure I'm going to make it.' At least maybe then he'd have had a plan, got out without a crash, and the death spiral, and losing Jeff. But that can probably wait till- “Ackles, that you? Where you been, fucker?”
Deep breath. “I was working, Chad. Working.”
Jensen gets a baffled silence in return. He wonders, faintly, whether Chad remembers that he officially also has a job. Though not one that seems to inconvenience him too much. “What’s wrong?” he asks, finally. “I’m assuming you didn’t just call to be annoying.” Though, plausible, now he says it.
“Is Tommy with you?”
Huh. Tommy. “Nope. Haven’t seen him since… I guess the French brunch? About then.” Ten days. He used to see Tom every couple days at a minimum. But Tom’s not just ignoring Jensen, he’s pretty much moved down to Delphi’s. Different city, different life. No meetings in the minimart for them. No quick drink after work, just taking a half hour together to decompress. No racquetball. (Jensen’s okay with that one, by the way.)
“I can’t find him,” says Chad, and he sounds actually worried, in a way Jensen’s unused to. “I mean- I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He’s not answering his cell. He’s not with Delphi. Nobody in the family knows where he is. But if he’s not with you-”
“He’s really not,” says Jensen. “I’ll look, too, okay. Did you call the police?”
Chad laughs at him. Jensen hangs up. He considers running out of college to look for Tom, but really, what can he do? He has class. But he puts in a call to Jared all the same. “How long does a person have to be missing before he’s officially missing?”
“Uh, hello?” says Jared, but he answers all the same. “Depends on if he’s vulnerable, or there’s cause to suspect foul play. Generally, an adult in good health, we’d give it a few days before becoming really concerned.”
“Nobody knows where Tom is,” says Jensen. “And it’s only since yesterday, but it’s not like him, so- I’m a little concerned.”
“Did you check his apartment?” Jared says it, and Jensen wants to smack his head because, probably not. Tom's barely there these days, and Chad doesn’t leave the city often. “Because if not…”
“Uh. I don’t know. But I’m in class right now, I can’t just run. I’ll go afterward, let you know.”
“No problem,” says Jared. The reassuring sound of his voice, calm and authoritative and very much not Chad, is already making Jensen calmer.
He returns to class, apologises, thanks, and delivers a pretty okay remainder of the session, he thinks. It helps that Jared sends him a single text after a half hour. Tom’s car is at the apartment. He’s probably inside. I’ll keep a look out. Damn, that’s a good guy.
In fact, Jared’s official car is still stationed outside Tom’s apartment building when Jensen gets over there after class. Jensen ducks down to the driver’s window, and knocks. Jared opens up. “Thank you,” is all Jensen really knows to say, but he puts a lot into it.
Jared nods, a quick tilt of the chin that makes Jensen long for them to be okay again. “I’ll be out here till I know he’s okay, and you’re okay.”
“Thank you,” and it comes out a little doubtful this time, because it’s not warm enough to show just how damn happy Jensen is that Jared watches out for people this way. That he’s not angry with Tom, for whatever Delphi’s going through just now. That he’s not blustering, panicking, judging. Just helping. “You’re such a good friend,” is all Jensen can think to say, and Jared almost flinches from that like it’s an insult.
So. Jensen stands up from the car, not knowing where else to go with that. Crosses the street and enters the building. He still has Tom’s spare keys. Probably should give them back now that Tom’s moving out, come to think of it.
The apartment is quiet, and for a moment Jensen thinks he’s not here. But a window is cracked open. There’s a coffee cup on the side table by the recliner, and Tom doesn’t leave unwashed dishes for long. He walks through the rooms, calling out and feeling dumb at the same time. “Tom? You here? We were worried- Oh, yeah you are.”
Tom’s just lying on his bed, unmoving. For a grossly awful second Jensen thinks this is going to go bad, but then Tom blinks, and turns to him. He’s okay. A little rough and unshaven, but okay. Jensen calls Jared, says simply, “It’s all right. Could you tell Delphi he’s with me, please?” and hangs up.
“Tom? You okay?” Tom doesn’t really answer. Jensen walks closer. Tom’s bedroom isn’t familiar territory, but fuck it. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the bed next to Tom. One hand on Tom’s shoulder, feeling how tense he is. “Tom, if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”
“Nothing wrong,” Tom says. It comes out rusty, like he hasn’t talked much or drunk enough since he left the wedding prep. “It’s all good. Delphi’s great. We’re going to be very happy.” The thing is, he sounds simultaneously like he knows that’s true and like he’s not happy. “I missed you.” That sounds true, too, and Jensen allows himself to enjoy it as Tom flops onto his back, putting them side by side. They’ve sprawled like this on many a couch, and student beds too, long ago, when life was easy and anything was possible. “I’m going to miss this.”
“Really? But you’re going to be great together, when you’re married and all this party bullshit is over.” Maybe Tom’s just crazed with wedding tedium. It’ll pass.
But Tom makes an annoyed face that says it’s not entirely about that. “I’ll miss this place. This town. I’ll miss you, you idiot, now you’re gonna be far away. It’s like- I want the life I can have with Delphi. I just wish I didn’t have to give up this life too.” He rolls into Jensen, awkwardly hug-squishing, which is not like Tom at all, and Jensen wonders if he really is okay. But it passes; Jensen’s hand back on Tom’s shoulder, Tom clutching him like he’s a lifebelt, and then suddenly they break apart, and it’s normal.
Tom shuffles out of bed. “I think the fridge is empty,” he says.
“Pizza,” is the answer. It’s always the answer. So they spend the rest of the day with pepperoni and beer, and just talking like friends do. Every minute is helping Jensen, and he thinks Tom’s okay too. Tom calls Delphi after a while, and apologises, and agrees last minute bullshit details about rehearsal dinners and all that, and the wedding is definitely on, but Tom and Jensen are friends again, so the wedding crap isn’t that important, really.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Tom says, over and over, as Jensen slowly unfolds the bad things of the past few months - debts, and Ty, and not writing at his Mom’s, and how he fucked up with Jared, and the three jobs that don’t add up to one job. And it’s not like Tom blames Jensen for not saying, it’s like he finally gets how his happiness and busy crossed with Jensen’s pit of despair, and they slipped out of sync for a while. But maybe they’re back now.
Tom also talks, just a little, about the pressure of the OMG perfect wedding, and the guy bullshit stuff Chad’s arranged, which isn’t all that related to who Tom actually is. And, eventually, he says, “I know you don’t like to write under pressure, but I was- I was an idiot not to want you to speak at the wedding. Can you?”
Jensen’s brain starts to pinball with things he could write, and the time he hasn’t got, and the night shift he has to start in two hours, and he says, “Of course.” He has forty hours, and it’s his best friend, and what’s not possible about that?
When he leaves the apartment to go to work, he’s pretty much certain it’s going to be okay.
*
So, weddings still suck beyond belief, in Jensen’s experience, and Tom and Delphi’s is only tolerable because they really are very happy, and they’re going to be great together, and if it makes them content to have all this hoopla then Jensen’s prepared to be a part of the conspiracy. He soothes and ushers (backup in addition to his actual role, because Joshie broke four toes snowboarding and now can’t really locomote without screaming, and that really wasn’t in the wedding plans), and he passes Tom the ring because Tom didn’t entrust it to Chad, and nobody hyperventilates or passes out. And in the quiet before all of that, Chad sidles up to Jensen and says, “Dude, if you don’t get with Jared tonight, you are a fucking halfwit,” which is Chad’s idea of brotherly advice, and Jensen takes with relative goodwill. When Chad follows it up with, “I’ve seen him turn down three guys since you fucked him over, and don’t tell me he’s not pining over you, fucker,” Jensen almost considers hugging him, but good taste intervenes.
Jensen leaves the best man speech to Chad, and it’s as awful as you’d expect, and someone’s aunt looks like she’s having a stroke during Chad’s description of the churrasco incident. And then Jensen stands up, and says, “Well, it’s kind of hard for me to follow that,” which gets him a ripple of grateful laughter.
He wrote them a sonnet. It’s not awesome, and most of it was written on till receipts at the minimart in the middle of restock. Jared’s heard a part of it, at last night’s carrot snacking session (in which stuff was almost said but not quite and Jensen actually needed Chad’s words of encouragement today, which is a weird moment of gratitude for the world's biggest jackass), and he didn’t hate it. Jensen would have liked to work on it some more before reading it to 250 guests. But, you know, life doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s a good start, at celebrating Tom, and how Delphi is changing his life in good ways. And there are a couple of lines that sing the way Jensen wanted. Delphi looks teary. Jared gives him a thumbs up at the start, and then looks kind of stunned by the end. Chad mimes puking, but Jensen assumes that means he got the emotional kick he wanted, so it’s all good.
He doesn't leave straight after the dinner. Of course he doesn't. He can be here. He brought something to the wedding, and it was real, it was Jensen and Tom and the life that's changing. And how, this time, that's a good thing.
"You want to dance?" asks a guy in his ear. Right up in his personal space. Even without the voice, Jensen would know it's Jared. It's the height and the warmth, and the way he rubs a thumb across Jensen's knuckles in a way that spells forgiveness, and the way he smells, and how badly Jensen wants to lean back into him and-
"Yes," says Jensen. "Yes please."
The thing about major life fuckups is that they don't get fixed that fast. But all you can do is try. Accept help when it's offered. Not bitch out the people who mean well, even if they time it badly. And hope you find a way through the woods.
The wedding DJ is playing music that’s somehow as bad as it always is at weddings, despite Tom’s express views on the subject and Chad’s rigorous selection process. Jensen slides his arms around Jared, and closes his eyes as the strains of (god, is that really Eminem the aunts are trying to dance to? Who let Chad at the playlist?) ring out. It’s not a perfect day, God knows. But it’s close.
*
Title Beyond the Spotlight
Author Brutti ma buoni
Movie Prompt: Bridesmaids
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating R
Word count 7000
Summary Jensen never thought that much about weddings till his best friend got embroiled in the wedding of the year, at the same time that Jensen's life got flushed down the toilet. Tom's happy, and that's great, but he's moving further away from Jensen, the contrast of their lives pointed up in every damn wedding exchange, which Jensen messes up with depressing regularity. Meeting Jared is the only part of the wedding bullshit that's good news, but is Jensen spiralling so far down that he can't see the possibilities?
Notes/Warnings If you haven't seen the film, it is the one in which Kirstin Wiig is funny and tragic as a woman whose life is collapsing at the same time as her best friend is getting married with maximum hoopla. She has a bad, bad relationship with [Jon Hamm] and a possibly happier one with [Chris O'Dowd]. This story genderswaps and J2s it up, but it’s a fairly straight retelling. Jared's character merges two from the film, which will only bother you if you know the original. Jensen's messed up. He's sleeping with another man, debatably cheating on either him or Jared, depending on how you look at it, at one point. So, Jensen/Other and infidelity warnings. Though he doesn't enjoy it at all. *nods*
So, losing your best friend always sucks. That part isn't a surprise. But, you know, Tom was always going to get married. Tom's a great guy. A perfect guy.
No, Jensen's not in love with Tom. Stop it. People always ask that, and that's not what's happening. They're closer than brothers, and it's not about sex. It's about being thirteen and telling your friend you're gay before you ever touch another guy, and having him hug you close the way boys your age never, ever do, and say, "Dude, whatever, if it's you, I'm there." It's about holding Tom's hand when Elise is in the clinic, aborting his baby, and knowing he would have raised that kid and ruined his life gladly, but he's living by the principles his momma drummed in, that it's Elise's body and Elise's choice, and getting him shit drunk that night so he'll cry it out like he needs. And more, and more, over twenty years of being each other's soul sibling.
Except, not any more. Tom has a new soul twin, and they get to get married.
But Delphi is great. She's going to be so good for Tom. Jensen will never be sorry that Tom's finding happiness with someone as good as he deserves. And yes, weddings come with a side order of bullshit that Jensen has never fully appreciated before being suckered into being one of Tom's best men (one of them, please note - the universe would be offended by Jensen in his current state being deemed actually 'best' at anything - and yes, pity party, suck my dick, Jensen has reasons). The sheer number of events, rituals, gifts, drinks parties, family brunches, usher bar crawls… It's endless, but it's happy. It's good. Jensen's glad to be a part of it.
It's just that Jensen's life has turned to shit in a quick eighteen month spell of badness, just while Tom and Delphi really got it together. And watching Tom shine into happiness hasn't actually compensated Jensen entirely for the loss of love and dreams and optimism and, you know, money and apartment and having to move back into his Mom's place.
It would be weird if Tom's life had compensated for that, wouldn't it?
Jensen's thinking this while being pounded into the mattress, again. It offends his sense of how the universe is that someone as good looking and charming as Ty should be just so bad in bed. Not painfully, not teachably, just tediously. But this is the only fun part of Jensen's current life, for a certain value of fun, and he's still reluctant to give up on it. Ty charmed him, and on the rare occasions Ty deigns to be seen with him, people get why they're together and give them a little kudos for it. But on the other hand, Ty's been ineffectually going at Jensen for (he sneaks a look at the alarm), god, a half hour, the same thrusts and panting and sound effects galore, and Jensen's feeling nothing except increasing soreness and the uncomfortable drag of his soft dick against Ty's high-thread-count sheets. None of which Ty notices as he comes, loud and triumphant in Jensen's ear.
"That was great, babe," he says, after a couple minutes. "You want to shower before you go?"
God forbid, Jensen should stay longer than an hour after sex. Actually, an hour is pushing it. He showers, mostly to get rid of the rivers of lube Ty squirted everywhere, and also in the hope he'll feel somewhat less reluctant to sit down, ever again, after some soothing hot water. By the time he makes it out to his shitheap of a car, he knows that part didn't take. Tomorrow morning's going to hurt like hell.
The all night garage minimart is open, which is good. Jensen needs something. Alcohol, possibly. Hell, he'd take heroin if someone offered it just now, except he wouldn't because that's a stupid mental exaggeration, but really Jensen feels like he could do something stupid just now. Like he's right on the edge of life crumbling away entirely, leaving him pedalling in mid-air like Road Runner. Except he won't bounce when he hits the floor.
He's staring at a freezer full of gourmet ice cream which is really outside his budget now, like everything else, when a familiar voice says, "Jensen? You okay?"
He's smiling even as he turns around. Jared's a fellow usher. One of the better parts, one of the very, very few decent parts, of this whole wedding shit. He's also a cop, evidently working night shift just now because he's in uniform, and the 'You okay' had a tiny side of 'or should I be professionally concerned' to it.
Jensen needs to not get arrested, and also wants to chat with Jared because it's something not-awful to do on an awful night, so he starts off trying to sound a) sober and b) sane. "Crappy night. I was thinking ice cream, but then it's so sweet, and it's cold, and I don't know if I'm in the mood for that. Chips, maybe?"
Jared gestures to his own carrier. "Or carrot sticks?" Figures. Jared's not into junk foods at all, this much has become clear during a series of foofy wedding events they've previous met at. But carrot sticks sound okay for Jensen's mood, and Jared's apparently offering to share, so they leave the store together and end up sitting on the bonnet of Jared's cop car. Is that okay? Apparently so. Jared seems unworried, though frowns flicker across his face whenever Jensen winces, since both sitting and moving are really not going well tonight.
"So, I'm taking it you're not in need of hospitalisation," he says after a while.
"No…" Jensen munches on a carrot stick. It's pretty good, actually, and doesn't come with a side of self-loathing. "Just… why do the cute ones turn out to be the worst in bed? And why hasn't that led me to logical conclusions, like not doing it again?"
Jared looks up at the starry sky, and ventures, "Because you're depressed and lonely?" Which is brutal, maybe, but also true, and over a few meetings of this nature, Jared's teased out so much of Jensen's current life-wreck that is doesn't seem too harsh.
Jensen lets his head thunk backward, slumps on the bonnet to a more comfortable position. "You are so right, my friend. So, so right. Also, I'm sorry about the churrasco incident. Did I say that?"
Jared waves it away. "Not like you didn't, uh, suffer, along with the rest of us. And I thought it was a great idea. Just a shame about the food hygiene." They sit silently for a second, remembering the projectile… everything… that resulted from the whole food poisoning/wedding outfit fitting trauma. Jensen can't actually recall whether Jared managed to score one of the toilets at the exclusive outfitters, or whether he was among the guys crapping in the sinks or on the (oh god) road, and he's mostly grateful for that. The less he remembers, the happier he will be. But it’s not like other people will forget.
"Tom, uh, I need to make it up to Tom," he says, now. "But everyone else wants some bachelor party Vegas extravaganza, and I just- I don't have the money."
Jared shrugs. "Yeah? Well, Tom will like something closer. Vegas isn't the only option."
"Chad thinks it is," says Jensen, gloomily. "And he'll pay for it, too, most likely, but-"
Chad Michael Murray. Fucking Chad. Everything Jensen isn't and never will be: rich, successful, obnoxiously social. He makes Tom laugh the way Jensen once did, and he's the other best man. And he's doing it better than Jensen by several miles. Losing Tom to a happy marriage is one thing, but losing Tom to Chad? Tom knows better. Except apparently Tom can't see that. Jensen rants, and then remembers, "Uh, sorry, he's probably a friend of yours," since Jared's Delphi's favourite cousin and Delphi's very much of Chad's world.
"Not particularly," says Jared, sounding completely unworried. "More carrot?" He munches meditatively. There's something about his whole posture that relaxes Jensen. Jared likes sitting on his car bonnet, looking at the sky, eating carrots. It's not a pose. He's not expecting admiration from Jensen. He just wanted to share something that works for him. It kind of works for Jensen too. Unknotting the evening. Knowing that this guy, at least, doesn't blame him for the churrasco disaster.
"How'd you get into this wedding shit, anyway?" Jensen asks. "It doesn't seem like your gig."
Jared wrinkles his nose, a gesture Jensen's noted before, and enjoyed. "Well, Delphi asked, and I'm terrible at saying no. Even when she was three and I was six, I'd always give in to her." Jensen laughs, because he can totally see that. Jared's about the most relaxed guy he's ever seen. "And she said it was a good way to meet guys, so… She knows my weaknesses."
Guys? Really? Jensen's gaydar has let him down badly. "You pick up guys at wedding events?"
"I'm looking for love," says Jared, cheerfully, like it's not some crazed romantic bullshit. "I feel like… I don't know, I feel good. Loving my job, liking this place, time to be happy with someone else, right?"
Jensen tries, he really, really tries, but his face must say something akin to Good luck, you dumb naïve fuck, because Jared's face falls. "I'm sorry," Jensen says, fast and backpedalling. "It's great. It really is. Ignore me." But he can't resist adding, "That's where I was with Jeff, couple years back. Had it all worked out."
"But you can still write, right?" Jared asks. "It sucks about your bookstore, I know, I miss that place, and it was only around a few months that I was even living here. But it's not the only place you're allowed to have words on paper, is it?"
"No," is all Jensen can say. Because of course not. And Jared's not the first person to point this out, far from it. He's more tolerable than most, less pushy, but he still evidently doesn't get it. "I can't, turns out. Not living with my mom. Not with maybe an hour or two on her crappy old freeze-and-crash PC a couple nights a week. I've never been able to write longhand for composition. Even if I wasn't so much in my head, right now, I'm not sure the words would come."
Jared's been relaxed, chilling out, looking at the stars, but he turns toward Jensen with those words. "Really? Damn. I'm so sorry."
Jensen runs. Through the medium of slipping off the car hood, skittering uncomfortably over to his own junker and driving off with barely a "Yeah, well, gotta run". Not quick, not dignified, but sure. Can’t handle someone being real about such tender spots in his psyche. Not today.
Maybe not ever. But that’d be damn depressing, so it’s a thought he pushes away. Throughout the disastrous exchanges of views and opinions that lead, of course they do, to the Vegas bachelor party Jensen hates and cannot possibly afford.
*
To Chad’s first class airline ticket splash. To Jensen tense as hell in coach, terrified, because planes, he does not do. Rejecting charity bailouts, but that just leaves him alone with lots and lots of the poor and - it turns out - also terrified airline clientele.
He tries to cover. Then tries to drink to forget. Then he plain old walks into first class, to get to Tom, to remind himself what all this is about. Or get to Jared and his comforting presence, because if anyone can survive a plane crash, Jensen’s suddenly convinced it’s Jared Padalecki. And Jared’s cool. Kind, even. Chad is really not. Unfortunately, it's Chad that has the free space by him, and Chad that Jensen talks to in the short time before he's evicted from first class to tremble back in coach.
Jensen tries to pretend, after, that he truly believes Chad spiked his drink, but he’s pretty sure he downed whatever the hell Chad passed him voluntarily, not caring what it was so long as he stopped wanting to scream and punch a hole in the fuselage. He vaguely remembers Jared’s concerned look at some point, and also speaking into the intercom, something about terrorists, or was it engine failure? A lot of screaming, anyways. He remembers the emergency landing. And he remembers the bus back, from Nebraska. All the way. With his head swimming, stomach rebelling, and the simmering fury of eight Vegas-bachelor-party-ready dudes spending their weekend on backroad transport instead.
Well, seven. He’s leaning on Jared most of the way, and Jared’s not exactly mad. A little confused (“So, you’re broke and terrified of airplanes, and you booked a Vegas trip for us why? Tom doesn’t even like Vegas…”), but not mad. Jensen may cling, somewhat. But then Jensen’s drunk and on some nameless drug cocktail that Chad thinks only pussies find problematic, so he has an alibi.
Unlike Tom. Jensen can’t really defend himself against Tom’s fury. It was a shitty disaster of a bachelor weekend, and everybody lost out, and it’s totally Jensen’s fault. Which isn't what friends have in mind when nominating best men. So. When he ends up not speaking to Tom, it’s pretty much what he deserves.
“It’s not, you know,” says Jared, one night a few weeks later. They’re sitting in the minimart car park, in the dark again. Jared’s even eating carrots. On the good side, Jensen didn’t just get fucked raw, badly, this time, so he’s a little more comfortable on the hood of Jared’s police vehicle. It’s not a date. It’s just he knows where Jared is when he feels miserable. And Jared makes him feel less miserable. Especially at night, when the world is silent, and Jensen has nothing to do but focus on just how penniless and alone he is.
Tonight, for example, they’ve been doing speed checks on passing cars. It being pledge week, they’ve caught and fined a fair few. Well, technically Jared has. Jensen’s not allowed to do anything official. But he’s watched. And used the speed gun sometimes, because it’s a literal point/click thing and even comprehensive fuck-ups like Jensen can’t actually mess with the legal process by operating it. He hopes.
Jared gets off at 2am. It’s pretty quiet by then. Just a couple desperate late night shoppers - diapers, hard liquor, medical supplies for the dying, Jared says, and so far Jensen hasn’t seen a shopper that doesn’t fit one of the above needs. “Policemen know a lot about people,” he says, suddenly. It doesn’t sound more intelligent said aloud.
“You need to go to bed,” says Jared, cheerfully.
“You too,” Jensen responds. Automatic. But their eyes meet as he says it, and it’s possible that the thought Jensen is having is happening to Jared too.
“I need to check in with the station,” is Jared’s only immediate response.
Jensen waits while Jared radios in. “Heading home,” is his signoff. Their eyes meet again, through the windshield this time. Jared tilts his head in invitation, and Jensen slides off the hood, into the front seat. “So-“ Jared tries.
“Yeah,” Jensen answers.
Jared doesn’t live far off, and they travel in near silence. But it’s easy. Soft silence. Easy gestures, when they arrive, and Jensen falls into Jared’s home. Scruffy and welcoming, good smelling and warm. Jared has a home that matches his persona, like he’s a whole, real human being. Jensen tries to say some of that (it mostly comes out as “Great place”, but he thinks Jared gets it), but they’re kissing before it turns into anything awkward, and he’s soon in Jared’s rumpled but soft-sheeted bed, wrapped around those lanky muscles, trying to absorb that whole, real person into his own broken, fucked up self.
Jared must feel it, because, “Easy, there,” is the first thing he says when their mouths detach.
And it is. It really is. Jared's just that kind of guy who guts Jensen with his openness, honest about what works and what could be better. Laughing at his own klutziness when they bump forehead to nose. Going down on Jensen with vocal enthusiasm and plenty of the right kind of pressure to take Jensen a long way down the road to satisfaction. Cautious and focused in opening him up, tongue tip even poking out the side of his mouth in a way that shouldn't be either cute or hot, but when he's that determined on making Jensen feel good, it's hard not to call it both. Once inside him, Jared's grinding, not pounding, getting them as close as possible to each other, kissing sloppily, panting with pleasure, not about the ego, all about the touch.
Jensen comes so hard it splatters high between them, squishing unpleasantly as Jared keeps up the easy, slow grind a moment longer till he gives up control in his turn.
God, it's not perfect, maybe, but it's good. It leaves Jensen shaken with how much Jared just shared, and how easily. Jensen used to live that way, he thinks. But he doesn't remember how.
There's comfortable mutual showering afterward, and then Jared wraps an arm around Jensen's waist and drags him back to bed. It's so late that the first stirrings of dawn are sounding outside, and though Jensen feels tension oozing back already, it doesn't take hold before he's asleep.
When he wakes, it's a bright, beautiful morning. Late, judging by how the sun is in the sky. He stretches, feeling contented sex seeping through used muscles. Jared's not in the bed, but there are noises elsewhere in the apartment, and when Jensen stumbles into shirt and jeans, barefoot and tousled, he finds Jared in the kitchen. With bagels and juice and coffee. Jensen considers marrying him. Not with the Tom level of wedding bullshit. Just so he can have this every day.
*
Seventeen minutes later, Jensen's slamming out of the apartment. He can feel, even as he does it, just how stupid he's being. How Jared was being nice, not pitying. Or, even if a little bit of pity, constructive pity that might just help Jensen get back something he loved.
And yeah, Jared maybe could have let Jensen eat more than one half-bagel and a sip of coffee before bringing out the 'spare' ipad. Or at least the keyboard. Which is a proper keyboard, not one of those crappy spongy ones. And no way in hell did Jared just have that kicking around, no big deal, who needs this, oh look I've got lots of kit, why don't you have it and maybe do some writing while you're here. Maybe take it with you. But he didn't. And maybe Jensen can pretend it's hunger that drove him to respond so… uh, loudly.
Hello, Jensen Ackles. You're thirty-five years old and you're a charity case for public officials. Feeling good about that?
He blew a fuse. Or ten. And walked. And now he has to live with that.
That's really where the death spiral starts. Jensen recognises it, but he doesn’t try to arrest it. Why would he? He's getting about what he deserves. He can't hold a relationship. Can't appreciate a nice guy trying to help. Gets pounded into the mattress by a guy like Ty who Jensen knows deep down (not even all that deep) is a dickwad of gigantic proportions, because at least it takes his mind off reality. Stops applying for jobs that even vaguely sound of interest, because why would he get them? One dark and rainy night, he considers the Help Wanted sign in the minimart, but can't face Jared. Stops even trying to write on his mom's crappy ass PC.
Tries, and fails, to forget just how hurt Jared looked while Jensen blew up at him. Just how much he could have had if he could only have smiled and thanked Jared and pretended to write something and moved on from the pit of failure. Cranked out a short story, maybe, or an essay. The kind of shit he used to produce for fun, on a whim. Not the tough stuff. Jensen has no idea if Jared ever read any of his poetry. Probably not. Almost nobody did. But that's the stuff that's most completely gone, and what hurts the worst. Even if the comprehensive life fuckup he has been committing ever since losing the bookstore and Jeff is getting to hurt pretty bad of itself.
Did Jensen really holler something about fuck you and your cheap, do-gooding, mediocre existence? Because that was rude, stupid and self-destructive, and he's not surprised he remembers Jared looking ill. Not furious, just queasy at how Jensen can't begin to get ahold of himself. It floats in his dreams, sometimes. And Jensen has so little to do except dream just now. No work, no creativity. No Tom.
He really fucking misses Tom. Tom would listen to Jensen's death spiral, and kick his butt, and make him play one on one till he can at least sleep some nights. And make him apologise to Jared, face to face, man to man, instead of tacking a handwritten apology note onto Jared's front door, and watching it grow damp, sticky, flyblown. That note was probably the best thing Jensen's written since the bookstore closed down. Heartfelt. Important. Nakedly honest.
He really wishes he'd kept a copy.
Meantime, the wedding bullshit swarms on. Jensen puts in appearances at showers and brunches and meet-ups and he looks, probably also smells, like shit but the food is free and it's a little better than sitting on his mother's couch eating potato chips and waiting for death. Tom avoids him. Jared avoids him. Chad, the fucker, absolutely doesn't avoid him, and it's Chad's ostentatious sniff that really makes Jensen start to question his personal hygiene. Jensen's last good suit and two good shirts get dry-cleaned after that one, and fuck the expense. If he has to, he'll parade like the last chimp at the wedding fair for another three weeks till Tom and Delphi finally tie the knot and all this is over. And Jensen will… what? He has absolutely no idea. But he's going to get through this part, before he finds out what the next worst thing is that's going to happen.
Ty doesn't avoid him. Or, more precisely, avoids and ignores him like usual apart from two even-more-blatant-than-before booty calls. ("I heard you were down and out, Ackles," he says, the first time, and doesn't even bother to pour them drinks before getting down and dirty.) The second time, Jensen's so fucking angry, he gets out of Ty's car at one a.m. on a deserted highway, probably ten miles from home, and just starts walking. Ty drives alongside awhile, cajoling, demanding the stupid, dangerous, not-at-all-sexy blowjob that is the reason Jensen's walking along the roadside in shoes that have two holes in at the last count.
Which is when the police show up. "Fuuuuuuck," says Ty, and floors it. Jensen watches his tail-lights, wondering just what the idiot thought could possibly happen here. Unless he has weed, which is pretty likely, come to think of it.
He's also watching the tail-lights to avoid the eyes of the pissed off cop who has been trying to ignore him for too long. "Are you in trouble?" the cop says, mildly.
"Just taking a walk," Jensen responds.
Jared takes up where Ty left off, slowly shadowing Jensen's steps. "You're walking pretty funny," he says.
Which, so would you with leaky shoes and an aching ass, thinks Jensen, and some of it maybe shows upon his face. Jared's mouth twists. "He's a dick," he points out, needlessly.
"Who?"
"Ty Watson. The guy who fucks you and ignores you and leaves you by the roadside when the cops show up," says Jared, and it's pretty undeniable. And Jared doesn't even know how bad the sex is with Ty, or he'd definitely have thrown that into the dismal mix. Jensen keeps on walking, looking like a fool, with a cop car trailing him and Jared talking out of the window. Mostly variations on the “you don’t help yourself” and “Jen, would you please at least get in the damn car, don’t think I can’t find something to arrest you for in an emergency, you moron” themes. When Jensen eventually caves, he’s twice the fool because he could have done this a mile back and had fewer blisters. He looks out of the window. Ignores Jared right till the end of the ride back to his place. His mom’s place.
Then. “Look. I owe you a big apology, I know that. Do you want to hear it?”
Jared shrugs. “If you mean it, I guess.” He looks uncomfortable. Good. That makes two in this car. Jensen feels about six years old.
“I’m sorry I got mad when you were trying to do something nice for me. I’m sorry I’m such a fuckup that I’ve managed to drag you into my mess. I’m sorry about the food poisoning and Vegas and the fact the wedding shit will have a side of Tom wanting me to die, which hopefully Delphi won’t pick up on.”
“She knows, Jensen. Everybody knows,” Jared points out.
“Not helping.”
“Not trying to,” Jared shoots back. Which is fair. “I think the only person who can help you at this point is probably you. If you won’t accept anything from anyone else, there’s really only Jensen Ackles to fall back on. Just, you know, do it. Stop falling back on fucking Ty and self-pity.” He pulls over. They’re back at the Ackles house. Super. Jensen gets out of the car, letting Jared’s final words echo through him. Fucker. He’s right, but still, fucker.
He limps inside, with a bare wave to Jared, as the police car speeds off. “Uh, thanks?” he adds. Because, really, Jared’s still helping. Even though he pretends he’s not.
*
It’s at that point that things do start to get a little better in Jensen’s world. Not, you know, a lot, because monumental life-fucks don’t just stop being fucked up because the fuckee gets his head out of his ass. But nonetheless. There’s some progress. Jensen talks with his mom, a little. Also with a couple friends from the book trade, who have nothing whatsoever to do with weddings, which can only be good for his head. He gets two very, very small literature teaching gigs, one a private school and one the community college, but both want him a couple hours per week, both see something in him other than a monumentally failed bookstore owner. Both have libraries, computers and wifi, and give faculty privileges to even temp staff, within reason. So he has some ego-food, a chance to use his brain, and a place to write. He also takes two night shifts per week at the minimart, because, you know, money. And also insomnia, so, why not?
His new work and riches enable him to pay his mom for food, at least. Self-respect, not entirely lost. He can see the future, and it’s long and dull, and his level of financial loss isn’t going to get easier any time soon. But he’s not going crazy with boredom and inertia now. So. Good. And he can write, now. Not good stuff (but then, when did he ever think his stuff was good?). But words, strung together. Meaning something. He sends two poems to a literary magazine, for the first time in over a year. And he roughs out a YA novel, first chapter draft and all, and sends it round agents. Likely, this will go nowhere, but it feels a little different than his past failed efforts. It’s possibly based a little too blatantly on Jared’s world, but it’s loose and funny, so Jensen’s hoping he’s captured a little of what he enjoys about the guy. Cops really do find out a lot about people, and he's looking forward to exploring that if he can get a publisher interested.
So. Yeah. Progress. Less so regarding wedding crap. It’s been decided (by Chad, or possibly Chad-and-Tom) that it’s too late to keep Jensen out of the wedding completely. But all he has to do is stand. By Tom, for the ceremony. (Chad has the ring.) And then in the receiving line, and then sit for the dinner, and then get the hell out of Tom’s world. Right? At least all this will be over, and Jensen won’t have to look at contrasting lifestyles and happy, happy people much longer.
Also, Jared will be at the wedding. Jensen’s seen him a few times around the minimart. And Jared, being a friendly guy, hasn’t pretended not to see Jensen in his new minion role. So they’ve exchanged civil words, at least. Jensen even let drop that he was writing a little, and Jared high-fived him the way he might have before sex, rage and Jensen sleeping with Ty completely drove him away. It’s a start. And Jared's looking for love at the wedding, so maybe he'll be receptive to Jensen getting a little closer again.
It would be a gross and terrible exaggeration to say that Jensen’s more cheerful. But the death spiral has stopped. That has to be a good thing.
The next thing that happens is the wedding. Or, you know, almost.
*
Jensen’s cellphone goes off when he’s at work. College work, meaning teaching, meaning he can’t just stop and answer, or take a break for a second. So he ignores it. When it rings again, he switches the volume off, and continues. When he next checks, after Sandy finishes presenting her piece, he has eight missed calls. From Chad.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong with Tom, because Chad may be an asshole but he wouldn’t call Jensen this number of times about boutonnieres. Jensen looks up at the class, and realises they’re adult enough to hear the truth. “Guys, I’m sorry, someone’s trying to call me urgently. I’m assuming it’s a big deal. Could Tamara present, and if I’m not back, Jon lead the critique?” The class mostly looks bored, but parts of it look concerned at second hand, and both Tamara and Jon nod, accepting responsibility, just in case.
It’s a thing about Jensen that people looking at him now wouldn’t guess. He used to be a perfectionist. Control freak, even. His shop was his shop, and his word was law. It’s a peculiar thing, to give up this control even for a second. To admit he’s a human being.
He wonders, even as he calls Chad back, whether if he’d asked for help earlier, he might have saved the store. Just said, 'Guys, I'm not sure I'm going to make it.' At least maybe then he'd have had a plan, got out without a crash, and the death spiral, and losing Jeff. But that can probably wait till- “Ackles, that you? Where you been, fucker?”
Deep breath. “I was working, Chad. Working.”
Jensen gets a baffled silence in return. He wonders, faintly, whether Chad remembers that he officially also has a job. Though not one that seems to inconvenience him too much. “What’s wrong?” he asks, finally. “I’m assuming you didn’t just call to be annoying.” Though, plausible, now he says it.
“Is Tommy with you?”
Huh. Tommy. “Nope. Haven’t seen him since… I guess the French brunch? About then.” Ten days. He used to see Tom every couple days at a minimum. But Tom’s not just ignoring Jensen, he’s pretty much moved down to Delphi’s. Different city, different life. No meetings in the minimart for them. No quick drink after work, just taking a half hour together to decompress. No racquetball. (Jensen’s okay with that one, by the way.)
“I can’t find him,” says Chad, and he sounds actually worried, in a way Jensen’s unused to. “I mean- I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He’s not answering his cell. He’s not with Delphi. Nobody in the family knows where he is. But if he’s not with you-”
“He’s really not,” says Jensen. “I’ll look, too, okay. Did you call the police?”
Chad laughs at him. Jensen hangs up. He considers running out of college to look for Tom, but really, what can he do? He has class. But he puts in a call to Jared all the same. “How long does a person have to be missing before he’s officially missing?”
“Uh, hello?” says Jared, but he answers all the same. “Depends on if he’s vulnerable, or there’s cause to suspect foul play. Generally, an adult in good health, we’d give it a few days before becoming really concerned.”
“Nobody knows where Tom is,” says Jensen. “And it’s only since yesterday, but it’s not like him, so- I’m a little concerned.”
“Did you check his apartment?” Jared says it, and Jensen wants to smack his head because, probably not. Tom's barely there these days, and Chad doesn’t leave the city often. “Because if not…”
“Uh. I don’t know. But I’m in class right now, I can’t just run. I’ll go afterward, let you know.”
“No problem,” says Jared. The reassuring sound of his voice, calm and authoritative and very much not Chad, is already making Jensen calmer.
He returns to class, apologises, thanks, and delivers a pretty okay remainder of the session, he thinks. It helps that Jared sends him a single text after a half hour. Tom’s car is at the apartment. He’s probably inside. I’ll keep a look out. Damn, that’s a good guy.
In fact, Jared’s official car is still stationed outside Tom’s apartment building when Jensen gets over there after class. Jensen ducks down to the driver’s window, and knocks. Jared opens up. “Thank you,” is all Jensen really knows to say, but he puts a lot into it.
Jared nods, a quick tilt of the chin that makes Jensen long for them to be okay again. “I’ll be out here till I know he’s okay, and you’re okay.”
“Thank you,” and it comes out a little doubtful this time, because it’s not warm enough to show just how damn happy Jensen is that Jared watches out for people this way. That he’s not angry with Tom, for whatever Delphi’s going through just now. That he’s not blustering, panicking, judging. Just helping. “You’re such a good friend,” is all Jensen can think to say, and Jared almost flinches from that like it’s an insult.
So. Jensen stands up from the car, not knowing where else to go with that. Crosses the street and enters the building. He still has Tom’s spare keys. Probably should give them back now that Tom’s moving out, come to think of it.
The apartment is quiet, and for a moment Jensen thinks he’s not here. But a window is cracked open. There’s a coffee cup on the side table by the recliner, and Tom doesn’t leave unwashed dishes for long. He walks through the rooms, calling out and feeling dumb at the same time. “Tom? You here? We were worried- Oh, yeah you are.”
Tom’s just lying on his bed, unmoving. For a grossly awful second Jensen thinks this is going to go bad, but then Tom blinks, and turns to him. He’s okay. A little rough and unshaven, but okay. Jensen calls Jared, says simply, “It’s all right. Could you tell Delphi he’s with me, please?” and hangs up.
“Tom? You okay?” Tom doesn’t really answer. Jensen walks closer. Tom’s bedroom isn’t familiar territory, but fuck it. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the bed next to Tom. One hand on Tom’s shoulder, feeling how tense he is. “Tom, if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”
“Nothing wrong,” Tom says. It comes out rusty, like he hasn’t talked much or drunk enough since he left the wedding prep. “It’s all good. Delphi’s great. We’re going to be very happy.” The thing is, he sounds simultaneously like he knows that’s true and like he’s not happy. “I missed you.” That sounds true, too, and Jensen allows himself to enjoy it as Tom flops onto his back, putting them side by side. They’ve sprawled like this on many a couch, and student beds too, long ago, when life was easy and anything was possible. “I’m going to miss this.”
“Really? But you’re going to be great together, when you’re married and all this party bullshit is over.” Maybe Tom’s just crazed with wedding tedium. It’ll pass.
But Tom makes an annoyed face that says it’s not entirely about that. “I’ll miss this place. This town. I’ll miss you, you idiot, now you’re gonna be far away. It’s like- I want the life I can have with Delphi. I just wish I didn’t have to give up this life too.” He rolls into Jensen, awkwardly hug-squishing, which is not like Tom at all, and Jensen wonders if he really is okay. But it passes; Jensen’s hand back on Tom’s shoulder, Tom clutching him like he’s a lifebelt, and then suddenly they break apart, and it’s normal.
Tom shuffles out of bed. “I think the fridge is empty,” he says.
“Pizza,” is the answer. It’s always the answer. So they spend the rest of the day with pepperoni and beer, and just talking like friends do. Every minute is helping Jensen, and he thinks Tom’s okay too. Tom calls Delphi after a while, and apologises, and agrees last minute bullshit details about rehearsal dinners and all that, and the wedding is definitely on, but Tom and Jensen are friends again, so the wedding crap isn’t that important, really.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Tom says, over and over, as Jensen slowly unfolds the bad things of the past few months - debts, and Ty, and not writing at his Mom’s, and how he fucked up with Jared, and the three jobs that don’t add up to one job. And it’s not like Tom blames Jensen for not saying, it’s like he finally gets how his happiness and busy crossed with Jensen’s pit of despair, and they slipped out of sync for a while. But maybe they’re back now.
Tom also talks, just a little, about the pressure of the OMG perfect wedding, and the guy bullshit stuff Chad’s arranged, which isn’t all that related to who Tom actually is. And, eventually, he says, “I know you don’t like to write under pressure, but I was- I was an idiot not to want you to speak at the wedding. Can you?”
Jensen’s brain starts to pinball with things he could write, and the time he hasn’t got, and the night shift he has to start in two hours, and he says, “Of course.” He has forty hours, and it’s his best friend, and what’s not possible about that?
When he leaves the apartment to go to work, he’s pretty much certain it’s going to be okay.
*
So, weddings still suck beyond belief, in Jensen’s experience, and Tom and Delphi’s is only tolerable because they really are very happy, and they’re going to be great together, and if it makes them content to have all this hoopla then Jensen’s prepared to be a part of the conspiracy. He soothes and ushers (backup in addition to his actual role, because Joshie broke four toes snowboarding and now can’t really locomote without screaming, and that really wasn’t in the wedding plans), and he passes Tom the ring because Tom didn’t entrust it to Chad, and nobody hyperventilates or passes out. And in the quiet before all of that, Chad sidles up to Jensen and says, “Dude, if you don’t get with Jared tonight, you are a fucking halfwit,” which is Chad’s idea of brotherly advice, and Jensen takes with relative goodwill. When Chad follows it up with, “I’ve seen him turn down three guys since you fucked him over, and don’t tell me he’s not pining over you, fucker,” Jensen almost considers hugging him, but good taste intervenes.
Jensen leaves the best man speech to Chad, and it’s as awful as you’d expect, and someone’s aunt looks like she’s having a stroke during Chad’s description of the churrasco incident. And then Jensen stands up, and says, “Well, it’s kind of hard for me to follow that,” which gets him a ripple of grateful laughter.
He wrote them a sonnet. It’s not awesome, and most of it was written on till receipts at the minimart in the middle of restock. Jared’s heard a part of it, at last night’s carrot snacking session (in which stuff was almost said but not quite and Jensen actually needed Chad’s words of encouragement today, which is a weird moment of gratitude for the world's biggest jackass), and he didn’t hate it. Jensen would have liked to work on it some more before reading it to 250 guests. But, you know, life doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s a good start, at celebrating Tom, and how Delphi is changing his life in good ways. And there are a couple of lines that sing the way Jensen wanted. Delphi looks teary. Jared gives him a thumbs up at the start, and then looks kind of stunned by the end. Chad mimes puking, but Jensen assumes that means he got the emotional kick he wanted, so it’s all good.
He doesn't leave straight after the dinner. Of course he doesn't. He can be here. He brought something to the wedding, and it was real, it was Jensen and Tom and the life that's changing. And how, this time, that's a good thing.
"You want to dance?" asks a guy in his ear. Right up in his personal space. Even without the voice, Jensen would know it's Jared. It's the height and the warmth, and the way he rubs a thumb across Jensen's knuckles in a way that spells forgiveness, and the way he smells, and how badly Jensen wants to lean back into him and-
"Yes," says Jensen. "Yes please."
The thing about major life fuckups is that they don't get fixed that fast. But all you can do is try. Accept help when it's offered. Not bitch out the people who mean well, even if they time it badly. And hope you find a way through the woods.
The wedding DJ is playing music that’s somehow as bad as it always is at weddings, despite Tom’s express views on the subject and Chad’s rigorous selection process. Jensen slides his arms around Jared, and closes his eyes as the strains of (god, is that really Eminem the aunts are trying to dance to? Who let Chad at the playlist?) ring out. It’s not a perfect day, God knows. But it’s close.
*