FIC: Farther Away from Where We Are (1/2)
Title: Farther Away from Where We Are
Author: katjad
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 17,842
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles and all other people mentioned herein belong to themselves.
Summary: In which Jensen goes to Texas and gets drunk all the time, and wishes he were Prometheus, because then his poor dead liver would grow back every night. Also, eventually there is J2.
Author's Notes: This was written for Sweet Charity for a really awesome person who asked to remain anonymous. walkawayslowly went above and beyond with the beta work. This fic wouldn't be anywhere near what it is without her help. memphis86 also looked it over and fixed my huevos rancheros. Tragically not real ones, because those would be delicious right now.
Notes You Should Really Read: This is even more fictitious than the usual J2 fiction in that, for the purposes of this fic, Jared never proposed to Sandy. Also, randomly, there's a spoiler for 3x12 'Jus in Bello'.
Edit as of Feb. 13, 2010: Now with a PDF version, thanks to too_rational! You can download it here.
Farther Away from Where We Are
i.
They finish filming the fifth and last season of Supernatural on a Thursday in early April. Kripke ties up all the loose ends: every demon that ever got out has been sent back to Hell and there's no way for Lucifer to escape again. Sam and Dean clap each other on the back, get into the Impala and drive west into the setting sun. It's a good ending.
Jared and Jensen go out with the rest of the cast and crew and get completely trashed that night, then fly to L.A. the next morning. Jensen starts filming a project in less than two weeks, but he's seriously regretting being on a morning flight hung-over. It's fucking Jared's fault. He doesn't like flying at night-he likes being able to see what they're flying over, although honestly? Jensen hates to break it to him, but there ain't shit to see between L.A. and Vancouver.
But Jensen's got all kinds of lines to learn, and he hasn't seen Danneel in two months; and anyway, neither he nor Jared really wanted to hang out in Vancouver for long after the end of Supernatural.
Jared's already sold his house. He didn't think it made much sense to keep it when he wasn't going to be in Vancouver anymore. He hasn't had an apartment in L.A. since the end of the second season, so when they get to L.A. he crashes in the guest bedroom at Jensen's place. He's planning on staying for a few days, long enough to catch up with friends and Sandy-they're still close a year after the breakup-but he's headed back to Texas after that. He misses his family, and he's still got a bunch of buddies there, guys he's been friends with since high school and who he's stayed in touch with this whole time. Plus, he wants to take some time off.
"It's not like I really need a job right now," Jared says. They're at the airport again four days after they got back to L.A. He's wearing a button-down with some kind of blue design on it, and aviators, indoors. "I've got enough money to last me until I'm thirty-five, at least."
"How large you planning on living?" Jensen asks, raising an eyebrow.
Jared grins. "Think . . . My Super Sweet Sixteen. But like, every weekend."
"Oh, okay then," Jensen says. "But will there be choreographed dance routines? Inquiring minds want to know."
"Bitch, please," Jared says. "I think there should also be grizzlies. They could wrestle!"
"You're going to miss your flight, dude," Jensen says, pointing at the board. "You've got like thirty minutes to make it through security. Good luck, young Skywalker."
"C'mere," Jared says, pulling him in for a huge, long hug-and then fucking licking Jensen's ear.
"God, you're gross," Jensen says, scrubbing at his ear with his sleeve.
"You're going to miss me, right? Yeah, you're totally going to miss me."
Jensen grins. "I've got three words: Bruckheimer spy movie. Think I'll be too busy to miss your sorry ass."
Jared shrugs. "And I've got, uh-" He starts counting on his fingers, then gives up. "Whatever, more than three words: when Bruckheimer's got you out there for 5:30 calls, you're going to wish you were in Texas."
"Bruckheimer spy movie," Jensen repeats slowly, so its impact really gets through. He can tell the moment it does: Jared's mouth sliding into a grin.
"Yeah, okay, you've got a point. You're still going to come visit, right?"
"Soon as I can," Jensen says. "Seriously, you better run if you're going to catch that plane."
"Talk to you soon, man," Jared says, pulling him in for another hug-quicker this time-and then he's jogging off toward security, his duffel bag bouncing comically on his back.
They don't see each other again for two and a half months.
*
It's been nearly five years since Jensen was living in L.A. full-time, but it's kind of nice to be back. He's always liked L.A.-near-perpetual sunshine and no humidity, and if there's occasional smog, well, that's not all that different from Dallas. It hadn't taken him long to get used to California in the first place, and coming back after being in Vancouver is even easier: nearly all of his friends live there; he's famous enough now that he doesn't have to worry about finding good scripts; and Danneel's there, too. She just got done with the season of One Tree Hill (they've taken to calling it The Show That Will Not Die) and now she's in L.A.-just for the summer. She'll be back in North Carolina in the fall, but Jensen's done long-distance with her before and it's worked out just fine.
It's a little amazing to Jensen that they're still together. A year and a half ago he would have sworn that if anyone was going to make it for the long haul, it'd be Jared and Sandy, but it was pretty clear by the end of filming the fourth season that their relationship wasn't going to work out. And then Jared came out, which really explained a lot about just how many International Male catalogs he had lying around-"I just like the clothes!" only goes so far. So yeah, Jared and Sandy didn't make it, and they'd always seemed like they were going to be a permanent thing in a way that he and Danneel never had. But they're making it work.
Jensen's days are longer right now than they were for Supernatural, even-they start earlier and go later. It's not an easy shoot, and he's not seeing as much of Danneel as he'd like. She's doing some modeling work over the summer-magazine ads, mostly.
"My agent might be getting me some commercial work later in the summer," Danneel says, pulling off her shirt. "Starting in July or so."
"What kind of commercials?" Jensen asks. He kisses her neck and lies down on the bed, pulling her over next to him.
"Cosmetics stuff, mostly. Hopefully for Maybelline," she says, pushing his boxers down and rolling a condom on expertly. "You mind if I ride you?"
"Go for it," Jensen says, a little strangled, as she sinks down onto him.
When she rolls off him afterwards, tossing the condom in the trash, she says, "So are you seriously going to set three alarms?"
"I'm not going to wake up if I don't," Jensen says into her neck.
Danneel sighs. "Do you really have to get up? I mean, really?"
"I only wish I didn't. It's just, I'm filming this thing, it's called a movie-"
Danneel smacks him with a pillow, but she doesn't really mind getting up early. She likes to go jogging early while the streets are mostly empty, and then she likes to go to the first yoga classes of the day; she can be completely done with all that before she even has to think about heading out for a photo shoot. She likes being up early, Jensen knows, and Jensen likes having her there. It works. He's busy as hell, feels like he's got eight different things he's forgetting about all the time, but it works.
The project Jensen's doing is still called the Untitled Wrigley Project a month and a half into filming-with good reason. No one's going to go to a movie called Blasphemy of the Deep, no matter how hard the writer pushes that as a title. It's a movie about a sniper; it doesn't even make sense.
As the CIA officer who tracks the sniper (Jake Gyllenhaal) down, Jensen spends a lot of time on-screen looking stressed and drinking coffee. It's kind of like being Dean Winchester again, except that Agent William Brighton is way more obsessive than Dean ever was. He's a lot like Henriksen, really, except that he doesn't get blown up by a demon. It's a good script, a good character-he really feels like he's got something worth doing here.
Jensen calls Jared a few times a week. Jensen doesn't actually catch him that often-Jared's schedule is basically completely the opposite of Jensen's, in that Jared is sleeping all day and going out at night, and Jensen isn't-but they leave messages for each other: obscure one-liners from movies, loud music at bars, the occasional bit of heavy stalker-breathing. Jensen imagines Jared cracking his shit up when he gets those messages. Occasionally they actually talk: about the set; Bruckheimer; the two PAs he caught making out, the way they fell over themselves trying to get apart, then the girl asked for his autograph-
"You gave it to her, right?" Jared asks.
"Who do you think I am, you?" Jensen grumbles.
"You totally did. Aww, look at you being good to your fans!"
Jared talks about being at home, about finding a new house three weeks after he moves back-a little place, two bedrooms, not that different from the house in Vancouver-and about trying to put on a screened porch and fucking it up so badly that they had to call 911.
"It was just a little fire!" Jared says while Jensen howls laughter.
"Bet you got singed, didn't you? Hey, you get any cool scars?"
"Fuck you."
Nearly all of Jared's friends are still there-gone off to college, gone off to business school, but they've come back, gotten married, started having kids. It's different than it used to be, sure, but Jared's still as tight with them as he's always been.
"You'd like these guys," Jared tells him over the phone. "You're still coming, right? When are you done filming?"
"June 19th, if we stay on schedule," Jensen says.
"You should come then!"
"I'll see what I can do."
"Bullshit, man, get your ass down here!" Jared yells, and then hangs up the phone, laughing.
Jensen shakes his head at the phone and pockets it, grinning a little.
*
It doesn't seem like anything at first, with Danneel. Toward the middle of June she starts having more modeling jobs-and it's good, it's definitely good for her, but she's not around as much. One of the jobs, a spread for Ralph Lauren, is shooting at night over half a week. She doesn't get out until three in the morning, and Jensen has to be up by five. It doesn't make any sense for her to come over when their schedules are so off. It's sad, but there isn't really anything to be done for it.
They go five days without seeing each other at all, before finally Jensen's got Saturday off.
"You want to meet for brunch?" Jensen asks.
"Hmm," Danneel says. "I'm busy until late afternoon. Is dinner okay?"
"At six?"
"Better make it seven, just in case," Danneel says, clicking the phone closed before Jensen can confirm.
They go to a little place in West Hollywood and Jensen watches her push her field greens around her plate. Their conversation is as easy as it always is, but her mouth is tight around the corners.
"Everything okay?" Jensen asks when she gets a refill on the wine.
"Yeah, I'm just a little stressed, that's all," she says. "I thought I was going to get the weekend off, but I've got meetings all day tomorrow, in Burbank-you know, about that pilot I might be filming?"
"About the hot young teachers?" Jensen says.
"That's the one," Danneel says. "Oh, and I forgot to say earlier, I've got dinner plans afterwards."
"Oh," Jensen says. "That's okay. You going to come over after that?"
Danneel frowns, considering. "No, you know, I really shouldn't. It's probably going to run late, and I don't want you to stay up late, not when you've got your last week of filming starting on Monday. I don't want you to be tired for that."
It's going to be weird to have a whole day to himself, but it's probably not a bad thing: Jensen can't remember the last time he got more than five hours of sleep in a row. He sleeps until noon and wakes up disoriented, with the sun in his eyes. He orders a breakfast burrito from a place on Olympic and spends all day watching ESPN and not thinking about the movie. It's nice. And then he's pushing through the week and the end of the shoot-it's impossible to tell in advance, it always is, but he thinks this movie is going to end up being good.
Jensen goes out afterwards with the cast. He doesn't really intend to get drunk, but Jake Gyllenhaal is a little bitch like that, keeping Jensen's glass full no matter how many times shots he takes. It's not the worst hangover Jensen's ever had. The next morning, he mostly just wants a lot of coffee and something really greasy, like potato boats. He's not entirely sure where you can get those at nine in the morning, so he goes back to bed.
At ten-thirty he gets a call from Danneel. "You busy? You want to meet me for brunch in half an hour?"
Somehow Jensen finds himself agreeing to it. They go to a place in Santa Monica-one of Danneel's favorites. She's already got a table when he gets there, and there's a half-drunk cappuccino in front of her. "Sorry, I was early," she says, gesturing at it. "You know what you want?"
"Uh, sure," Jensen says, since she's already flagging the waiter down. He ends up ordering pecan pancakes by mistake, even though that's not actually what he wants at all. He wants grease.
Danneel makes a lot of small talk. "Crazy weather, huh? Fifty-five degrees in June?"
Jensen's not paying attention to what she's saying so much as the fact that she's so jittery she's shaking. Caffeine has that effect on her when she drinks too much of it before she eats anything. He keeps asking her if she's okay, and she keeps telling him she's fine, sure, did he hear about that four-car pileup on the 10 at Robertson last night?
The fifth time he asks, she finally snaps. "Yeah, no. You're right. I'm not okay."
"Okay," Jensen says. "Hey, look, there's the waiter with our food right now." It's not good when she's got low blood sugar. She'll get some food in her system and then she'll be fine.
"This isn't working," Danneel says.
"I don't-the food's right there," Jensen says, nodding toward the waiter.
Danneel sighs. "I'm not talking about the food, Jensen. This isn't working. We aren't working."
The waiter arrives at their table just then, and neither of them says anything while he's there. The moment is frozen. Jensen's mouth is open; he's staring at Danneel across the table-and she looks back at him, mouth down-turned and eyes a little sad, and then she looks back at the waiter to say thank you. The waiter is gone and the moment is gone, and it's Jensen's turn to speak.
"Um. Did I miss something?" he asks slowly, awkwardly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she says, though she never specifies to what, and then she pats his hand. "It's been this way for a while. You didn't-I mean-" She laughs a little, nervously. "We never thought this was going to be it, you know?"
The way she intones it is the same way Jared used to when he talked about Sandy back when they first started dating, when to look at him you'd have thought Jared couldn't ever fall out of love with her; there was just no way. The thought makes Jensen incredibly melancholy.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "I know. I-okay, yeah." He looks down at his plate. His stomach rumbles in protest; pancakes are really about the last thing he wants right now.
"You should eat before your food gets cold," Danneel says, completely misinterpreting the sound, and picks up her fork.
They don't really talk for the rest of the meal. Danneel eats her entire veggie omelette and gets an extra side order of home fries; Jensen eats about three bites of pancakes, then spends the rest of the time steadily draining his coffee-the waiters refill the cup every time he puts it down-and pretending he isn't watching Danneel eat.
Danneel pays the bill at the end. "It's my turn," she says, handing over her AmEx, and even if it isn't Jensen doesn't really want to argue.
They're parked next to each other in the garage across the street. Danneel smiles at him and says, "So I'll see you around, right? I mean, we're still friends?"
"Sure," Jensen says, his hand on the door of his pickup. He lets her pull out first, then follows her down Lincoln a ways before turning off. On a whim, he stops at a Carls Jr. on the way home and order three large hash browns. He eats two of them in the car and the third in the elevator. He can't decide if the hangover is better afterwards or worse. He lies down on top of the covers and turns the TV on, falling asleep right away. He's completely fine.
*
"I don't care what you say, man. This is the opposite of the definition of fine." Steve gestures at the pile of pizza boxes on the counter-mostly empty, Jensen's pretty sure he raided the last of the sausage pizza while he was drunk last night-and the trashcan, overflowing with Chinese takeout containers. "If I'd known it was this bad, I would have brought in the Red Cross."
"That doesn't even make sense," Jensen says, tilting his sunglasses higher up on his nose. The sunlight coming through his windows is bright. Fucking Steve, opening the blinds up.
"Basically you're living in a war zone," Steve says.
Jensen ignores him to dump his half-eaten carton of beef and broccoli on top of the pile of other cartons. The stack tilts precariously but doesn't fall over.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks. They both wince. "Revise that. I mean, do you want to talk to Riley? He knows all about getting dumped by Danneel, since she dumped him for you and all. You could start an I Got Dumped by Danneel Harris club."
Jensen opens the fridge and twists the tops off a couple bottles of Bud Light. He hands one to Steve, who tips it toward him and drains half of it at a go. "You're really in finer pain-in-the-ass form than usual," Jensen says. "Aren't you supposed to be on tour in Arizona?"
Steve shrugs. "Not since yesterday, I'm not. Look, I'm just saying, it's the middle of June. It's nice outside! When was the last time you went outside?"
Jensen gives him a death glare. He's pretty sure that most of the effect is lost on Steve since Jensen's still wearing his sunglasses. "How do you even know Danneel broke up with me in the first place?"
Steve gestures vaguely with his beer. "There was some thing you were supposed to be at last Thursday? You didn't show, people made some calls, whatever, the point is, you need to be doing something different here. You need to get out of L.A. You should go to Vegas."
"Right, because getting drunk and losing $5,000 at blackjack is an excellent way of dealing with a break-up," Jensen says. "Not that anyone I know has ever done that."
"It was $3,500, and my fuckin' ex put me through the wringer and you know it," Steve says. "Fine, it doesn't have to be Vegas. It can be wherever you want. I'm still driving you to the airport in twenty minutes, and you're getting on a plane."
Jensen blows air out through his nose and loosens the death grip he's got on his beer. He hasn't left the apartment in a week. He's been ignoring his cell phone since Wednesday-which might explain how he missed whatever thing Steve's talking about-and apparently every single person he's friends with in the state of California already knows about the break-up, even though he hasn't been speaking with any of them. He doesn't really want to change that, either, at this point, not since everything they're going to want to talk about is the break-up, and how's he coping, and did he hear that Danneel was out with one of the models from one of her commercials last night? Is he doing okay?
"Fine," Jensen says, because suddenly staying in L.A. doesn't sound that awesome. "But you're paying for the ticket."
"With what I make?" Steve says innocently.
Jensen finally takes the sunglasses off and looks at him. "Dude, you drive an Escalade."
Steve's mouth curves downwards. "Fine. You better not be heading to Thailand. I hear Thailand's sweet, but I am not sending you to Thailand."
"I'm not going to Thailand," Jensen says, heading toward the back of the apartment to pack.
*
In the end, Jensen doesn't even have to think about it. There's a flight to San Antonio at six p.m., and he's on it. He calls Jared from the gate at LAX to tell him that he's coming and Jared crows and says, "Fuck yeah, you're coming to Texas!" which Jensen takes to mean he'll see Jared's beat-up pickup truck outside the terminal when he gets in.
Jensen spends the flight stuck between a woman with a nasty cold and a man who's even bigger than Jared and has somehow managed to wedge himself into the aisle seat. Jensen tries to push himself as far back into his seat as he can get, but there's really no escaping. In the row across the aisle, three elementary-schoolers have their own seats. Fucking unfair. Steve should have shelled out for first class, the cheap bastard, especially since he's trying to help Jensen get over a breakup here.
They land in San Antonio around eleven, and Jared pulls up to the curb before Jensen even finishes turning his cell phone back on. Jared gives him a hug across the center console and says, "Hey, you hungry? There's a barbeque place between here and the house, if you want to-"
"Yes," Jensen says, his stomach growling to back him up.
The barbeque is hot and tangy on Jensen's tongue, his stomach rumbling as he eats. Jared finishes three sandwiches in the time it takes Jensen to eat two, then lets loose with a with a steady string of questions: how was the end of filming and how was working with Bruckheimer and is he still liking L.A.? Jensen answers unthinkingly, an easy back-and-forth-and then Jared says, "How's Danneel?"
Jensen freezes, then says, "We broke up." He's half a beat too slow for it to sound casual, like it isn't a big deal; he's pretty sure Jared noticed.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I had no idea. When?"
"About a week ago."
Jared nods like he's putting things together-that's why Jensen looks like shit; that's why he didn't return those two phone calls this past week. Jared looks like he wants to ask all kinds of questions, but he only says, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Jensen says. "Not really."
And for all that Jensen likes to compare Jared to an overgrown puppy, always sticking his nose where it shouldn't go, Jared really knows when to back off sometimes. He just nods and says, "Okay," and then, "So I told Harley and Sadie you were coming, so maybe we should get back and make sure they haven't wrecked the place."
"I don't think I'm really that exciting," Jensen says dryly.
"Aww, don't sell yourself short," Jared says, punching Jensen's shoulder-and Jensen leans into the hit. Jared's fist is solid and warm.
*
The dogs haven't actually destroyed the house, but they do their best to bowl Jensen over the moment he gets through the front door. Jensen backs up against the kitchen counter and pets them until they calm down. It takes a good five minutes before they settle enough for Jensen to get away.
"You've got to be jetlagged," Jared says, picking up Jensen's duffel bag and heading up the stairs. "Here, the guest bedroom's on the right, and the bathroom's just through here." He gestures toward what's got to be the master bedroom. "I put out towels on the end of your bed."
"Thanks, Mom," Jensen says, dodging as Jared swings at him, and heading into the room.
Jared's wrong about the jetlag. It's a little after midnight here, ten p.m. in L.A., and Jensen's nowhere near ready to fall asleep yet. He gets ready to go to bed anyway, though, and spends about four hours staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about anything at all.
The jetlag hits solidly in the morning when Harley and Sadie bound into his room and drool on him until he wakes up. It's nine o'clock here, the sun angling brightly through the blinds and hitting Jensen's face; his body's still screaming that it's the middle of the night. Getting out of bed and shrugging a shirt on is fucking hard.
Jared's got pancakes and bacon ready in the kitchen, at least, along with a full pot of coffee, strong and black. Jensen doesn't move out of arm's reach of the coffeemaker until he's well into his third cup.
"Your addiction is reaching terrifying proportions," Jared tells him. "I'd put you through detox, but I haven't actually had the shackles installed in the basement yet."
"You don't have a basement," Jensen says, pulling his coffee cup closer in.
Jared waves a hand at him. "Details. So hey, you want to see the house?"
Jared's already told him almost everything there is to hear about the place over the phone, but Jared stares at him until he admits that the light fixture in the dining room brings out the blues and greens in the drapes and that the tan paint with the white trim really does make the hallway brighter.
Jensen finally catches on when Jared wants him to compliment the way the refrigerator notches into the wooden cabinetry. "You bought everything they told you to buy at Home Depot, didn't you? Come on, dude, I thought you were supposed to automatically get awesome at style when you turned gay."
"Oh my God, that's what I forgot in gay school!" Jared says.
Jensen cracks up. "Remember how you thought a futon was the only piece of furniture you needed in Vancouver?"
"Oh, whatever," Jared says. "It wasn't just a futon. I also had a TV, a microwave and a mini-fridge. I was good to go! It's not my fault Sandy had standards."
"So what was I supposed to have done, brought my own sleeping bag?"
"It was a big futon!" Jared says.
Jensen scoffs. "You're like eight feet tall, dude. Also, you drool."
"I'll show you drool," Jared says, tackling Jensen onto the sofa. Jensen ends up with his face squished so deep into the cushions that he can't inhale anything but the smell of new leather and Jared's body.
"I hate you a lot," Jensen says into Jared's side.
"That's what they all say," Jared tells him when he finally rolls off Jensen's head. For a moment Jared stares at him funny, like there's something else he wants to say but won't, and the look on his face doesn't really make sense-but then the moment passes and Jared is pulling him all the way up, just for Jensen to tackle him back down to the couch again.
*
After three days, Jensen's duffel bag is entirely empty. Somehow the contents have gotten spread all over the entirety of Jared's house. It's not a big house-seven or eight rooms, depending on whether or not you're Jared and you count the hallway-but it's still annoying. Jensen will be looking for a shirt he swears he'd laid out on the guest bed, and he'll find it in the kitchen, hanging over the back of a chair.
"Dude, you don't want to wear that until I've washed it," Jared says, coming back into the house from his run. "I caught Harley with it in his mouth earlier. He really likes stealing your stuff."
"Only my stuff?" Jensen says.
"Well yeah," Jared says, tossing the shirt into the washer. "He's already stolen everything I own like eight times."
"Oh," Jensen says, like it makes sense. To Jared, it probably does.
Jared likes to go for a run early in the morning, before it gets too hot to leave the house, and he's got coffee made by the time Jensen wakes up. They play a lot of Wii and eat a lot of cereal. Jared's got enough cereal stockpiled to last them through World War III. Other than that, it's slim pickings in his kitchen: a lot of frozen vegetables, some Minute Rice, not a whole lot of meat.
"My mom stocked the fridge when I moved in," Jared says. "I haven't actually had to go to the grocery store yet."
"So what you mean is, you grilled all the meat, and you've been living off cereal ever since."
"Also takeout," Jared says. "Don't sell General Tsao short. The man knows how to cook chicken."
They make stir-fry three nights in a row. Jared's got plenty of soy sauce, and it's hard to fuck up stir-fry. Jared's also got plenty of Corona and limes, so when he does fuck it up, they just drink for a while and then the stir-fry tastes fine.
After dinner they sit on the screened porch for a while. It's over ninety degrees even after sundown, but Jared just finished the porch, damn it, and he's determined that they're going to use it.
"We're sitting in a pool of our own sweat," Jensen tells him. "Like, if the walls of the porch were concrete, we would actually be able to go swimming in your porch."
"Are you trying to pussy out on me here?"
"Is this a contest now?" Jensen says.
"First one to pussy out owes the other a case of beer," Jared says, tipping his beer toward Jensen. "Good luck, yo."
They last maybe another ten minutes before Jared calls it off. "Fuck this, I'm sweating so much I can't see, and I've got to take a piss."
"We all know about you and sweating, dude," Jensen says. "It's like you think I didn't spend the past five years with your rank ass. Also, you owe me a case of beer."
"Who do you think bought that beer in your hand?" Jared says, pausing with the sliding door open.
"Your mom," Jensen says.
"Fuck you, she didn't buy the beer!"
"Dude, just let me back in the goddamned house," Jensen says, shoving past Jared and heading straight for the shower. He turns the knob all the way to cold, and spends about three minutes enjoying the fact that it's still possible to shiver after the heat of the San Antonio night, humidity thick enough to slice.
After that Jensen's balls start to shrivel, so he heads back downstairs and gets a new beer, icy from the fridge, and they both watch a couple episodes of 24. He and Jared try to decide who'd be more likely to win in a fight against a T-Rex, Jack Bauer or John McClane from the Die Hard movies-Jensen's vote is on McClane-but after a while the argument dies out while they watch Jack Bauer kill multiple people with his bare hands, and also land a commercial jet on a made-up freeway.
Jensen has to at least partially concede the point. "He's pretty fucking badass."
"It could still go either way," Jared says.
That's pretty much how all their conversations go: easy banter, arguments over Call of Duty strategy and placing bets on just when the beer can pyramid Chad started when he came to visit a couple weeks ago is going to collapse. Jensen's giving it a week, tops; Jared thinks it's never going to collapse, because, "Chad's like a cockroach, dude. Anything he touches cannot die."
"I don't think your logic is entirely sound," Jensen says. If he's lucky, one of the dogs will knock it over in the night.
They talk about pretty much anything, but they don't talk about the break-up, and Jared never mentions Danneel. It's a little pathetic how grateful Jensen is. It's not like it was a bad break-up or anything. It's just that it came out of nowhere, that's all.
Danneel calls once, a couple days after Jensen goes to Texas. Jensen doesn't make it to the phone in time to pick up, but she leaves a voicemail. Jensen spends twenty minutes staring at the screen, psyching himself up to listen to the message, before he finally hits the power-off button and tosses the phone somewhere into the recesses of Jared's closet. He sort of hopes he never finds it again.
*
On Jensen's fourth morning in San Antonio, Jared corners him before he gets down the stairs. "So hey, my parents just got back from helping my sister move out of her apartment in College Station, and they wanted to know if you were up for a barbeque this afternoon."
Jensen doesn't even have his contacts in yet, so it takes him a while to process. "Sure," he says, rubbing at his eyes. "Is there coffee?"
"Man, I could have gotten you to agree to anything," Jared says, handing Jensen coffee. "I could have made you swear to shave your balls and wear a dress for the next week."
"Do that and die," Jensen says, drinking more coffee. He swears his vision is getting better with every sip, and then he realizes he never actually took his contacts out last night. He just hadn't noticed before. The degree of his coffee addiction is starting to scare even him.
They head to Jared's parents' house around one, when Jared's parents have mostly finished unloading the two cars and the U-Haul trailer. There are still about a dozen boxes left in the back of the U-Haul, along with a couch.
"Don't worry, we left some of the fun for you," Megan says, coming out of the house. "Hey, Jensen, what are you doing hanging around with this loser?"
"It's not my fault," Jensen tells her. "The guy keeps following me around or something."
Megan sighs. "Jared, I know I keep saying you need to get a boyfriend, but stalking Jensen totally doesn't count."
"Who was it that used to have a poster of Jensen on her wall?" Jared says, pulling her into some combination of a hug and headlock. "Oh, yeah, that was you."
"It was the promo poster for your show, you freak," Megan says, laughing, and failing to get out of grip. "Nice effort, though."
"So how'd the five-year college plan work out for you?" Jared asks, finally letting her loose.
"It's called a 3-2 program, dork. It was supposed to last five years," Megan says.
"All I'm hearing is, 'I was supposed to be out of college a year ago,'" Jared says.
"And all I'm hearing is, 'Oh my God, I never went to college! I knew I was forgetting something!'"
Jared grins. "One of us has enough money to last the rest of his life, is all I'm saying."
"Don't worry, he's going to blow it all on his Super Sweet Sixteen," Jensen says. "He wants bears to wrestle for him."
"Hey, your birthday's in a month, JT," Megan says. "If you want the Spice Girls to sing for you, you'd really better get on it."
"Fuck you both," Jared says.
Jensen and Jared wrestle the couch out of the back of the U-Haul and onto the front lawn, while Megan looks on and makes helpful comments-"You're going to throw out your back if you keep lifting with your arms, bro."-and Jared nearly drops the couch on his foot trying to flip Megan off without putting it down first. Jensen gets a stitch in his side, laughing at him.
Once they finally get it on the lawn, they spend a while staring at it. "You really want us to take this inside the house?" Jared says. "Where the heck is it supposed to go?"
"My room, duh," Megan says.
"You've got so much shit in there you can't even walk across the room!" Jared says.
"Just put it on the back porch for now, boys, if you would," Jared's mom says, walking across the yard. "It's lovely to see you again, Jensen! It's been too long."
"It's good to see you, too, Sherri," Jensen says, leaning into her hug. "So where do you want us to take this?"
"Just through the hallway and onto the porch, that would be lovely."
It's maybe thirty yards from the front yard to the back porch, if even, but Jensen's covered in sweat by the time they put the couch down. And if Jensen's sweaty, Jared looks like he might as well have gone swimming with his clothes on.
"C'mere, Megan, who wants a hug?" Jared says, tackling her.
"Ugh, gross, I can see your sweat marks," she says, disentangling herself.
"That's the price you pay for making us carry your couch!" Jared says.
The food's ready around three, and Jensen's reasonably sure that Jared eats half of it and the rest of them eat the other half. Jared's plate doesn't actually stay empty for more than about three seconds at a time-Sherri's quick with the refills-but it's kind of astonishing. Jensen's been watching Jared eat for years, but it's like the guy has entire extra stomachs for his mom's barbeque, like a cow.
"I do have a barbeque stomach, it's true," Jared says, polishing off his fifth plate. "I also have a peach cobbler stomach."
"It's a good thing I made some, then, because I'd hate for your cobbler stomach to go hungry," Sherri says, going into the kitchen and coming back out with a dish of cobbler and a tub of vanilla ice cream.
Jared makes the kinds of noises while eating dessert that most people make in the middle of a mind-blowing blowjob. It's not like Jensen's never heard Jared go orgasmic over food before, but it still makes him flush a little. But Jared must have been making those sorts of noises while eating since he was born, because it doesn't seem to faze his family.
"So, same thing, this time tomorrow?" Jared says, polishing off the last of the cobbler.
"Don't talk about food right now, I might die," Jensen says. "I'm pretty sure this is what captives feel like after the cannibals have finished fattening them up. Y'know, just before they eat them."
Jared laughs. "You calling my family a bunch of cannibals, Ackles?"
"You're scary when you're hungry, is all I'm sayin'. Also, your teeth are pretty pointy."
"They're for ripping your flesh to shreds, you caught me." Jared flashes a grin, totally proving Jensen's point.
"So, JT, you find yourself a boyfriend yet?" Sherri asks, dumping more barbeque on his plate.
"Man, Spanish Inquisition from all sides," Jared says, grinning. "I swear y'all are teaming up on me here."
"I'm guessing that's a no," Jared's dad says.
Jared goes a little red and Sherri says, "Geez, Jerry, cut the kid a break."
"You and Danneel are still going strong, though, aren't you?" Jerry says, turning to Jensen.
For a fraction of a second it's like the whole room goes still, but really it's just Jensen who froze. "Uh, no, actually. We're not," Jensen says. He's quicker with it this time-Jared's the only one who seems to notice that he's not that casual about it. "We broke up a couple weeks ago."
"Oh," Jerry says. "Sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to pry."
"Yeah, y'know, Jensen probably doesn't want to-" Jared begins, but Jensen cuts in quickly.
"No, it's fine." In response to Jared's raised eyebrow he adds, "Really."
"Oh, honey," Sherri says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you doing okay?"
"We just realized it wasn't going to work out," Jensen says. "That's all."
The conversation moves quickly away from Danneel, toward other things: sports, needling Megan about getting a job, Jared asking when it's going to be time for dinner. Jensen can feel Jared's eyes on him the whole time; he can feel Jared's tension.
Once they're back at the house, Jared says, "I'm sorry about that, man. I really should have told them before we went over there. I just wasn't thinking about it."
"Jared. It's fine. Really."
"You sure?" Jared says, looking right at him. It's hard to stay still under his gaze.
"Yeah," Jensen says. He's not entirely sure whether or not he's lying. "Hey, whatever happened to your big partying life here? Did your friends all move out just in time for me to show up?"
"Oh," Jared says. "No, they're around. Want me to call them?"
And then Jensen gets it. "Dude, were you trying to make sure I was okay before you brought over your friends? Were you going all suicide watch on me? You were, weren't you?"
"Suicide watch is a little strong," Jared says, flushing. "More like . . . 'making sure you're okay' watch. You think you're okay?"
"Ask me that one more time and I'll kick your ass," Jensen says.
Jared grins. "There's a Rangers game on at seven. I'll give the guys a call." But there's still something in Jared's face, like maybe he still think Jensen's lying. And maybe he is. But maybe if he keeps saying he's fine often enough, it'll start to be true.
Hanging out with Jared's friends is easy enough. Three of them come over around 6:30 and they spend the whole game yelling at the TV and drinking. It's not the first time Jensen's met Mike-he came out to L.A. for an insurance conference a couple years ago while Supernatural was on hiatus, and Jared brought him out with some of the guys out there-but Dave and Ray are new to him. They're all a lot like Jared: funny, easy-going, fans of sports and cheap beer. Jensen's reasonably sure that Jared warned them ahead of time not to talk about women, since none of them comes anywhere close to bringing up Danneel, and Mike even met her when he was in California before, but it's okay. It's kind of nice to think about baseball and nothing else, yelling at the umps every time they make a call against the Rangers, whether it's a fair call or not.
The game goes into extra innings, but Jensen's the only one who watches it all the way through to the end: Jared's friends all have to go to work in the morning. "Good to see you, Jensen," Mike says, shaking Jensen's hand as he and the other two leave. "We should do this again."
"Yeah, for sure," Jensen says, closing the door behind them. Jared's already asleep on the couch, beer tilted precariously to the side. Jensen takes the bottle out of his hand and puts it down on the coffee table. After a moment, he picks it back up and drains it. There were only a couple sips left in the bottom, anyway. He makes a perfunctory effort to wake Jared up, but the guy's so passed out he might as well be dead-the full day of sweating, drinking and eating must've gotten to him. Jensen pulls a blanket over Jared, grinning at his snores, and then goes upstairs, where he falls asleep thinking about pop-flies in the outfield and the strikeout in the thirteenth inning: a curveball over the plate, the swing of the bat, and the slap of the ball into the glove for the end of the game. He sleeps better than he has in days.
*
A week after he threw it in Jared's closet, Jensen digs out his cell phone and calls his agent. "I've been trying to get in touch with you for ages," she says the moment she picks up. "Jesus, did you drop off the face of the earth or something?"
"Something like that," Jensen says.
"Oh God, tell me you're not in rehab," she says.
"I'm not in rehab."
"No, I mean, tell me that and mean it. You're actually in rehab, aren't you, and I'm going to have to cover for you, and-"
"I'm not in rehab," Jensen says. "I'm in Texas."
That stops her for a moment. "Texas."
"I'm taking some time off," Jensen tells her. It feels good to say it out loud.
"Some time off, as in, a week or two? Because there's some stuff I'd really like you to look at. I've got some scripts that I think you might be interested in."
"You can send them to me here," Jensen says, giving her Jared's address. As soon as he hangs up he turns the phone back off again, without listening to any of his voicemails.
When the scripts start showing up two days later, Jensen doesn't even make the pretense of reading them. He just starts adding them to the pile of Jared's unread scripts, ever-growing.
*
After the second time they beat Call of Duty, Jensen starts to get antsy. It's like he's a mixture of pent-up energy and sluggishness-like he needs to find something to do, but not work. He hasn't taken any serious stretch of time off work since he was nineteen; he doesn't really know what to do with himself when he's not acting.
"I think you need to start working out again," Jared says, pinching Jensen's gut. "You're getting a little chubby."
"Your ass is chubby," Jensen says.
"Yeah, but my ass is working for me. Yours isn't, dude."
Jensen goes running with him the next morning. He'd worked out for the Bruckheimer movie, but that was mostly weightlifting and core stuff; it's been so long since he actually went running that he'd forgotten just how much running sucks. But Jared's like a fucking Greyhound. For as much as the guy's sweating, he never seems to get winded.
"You just need to get used to running again," Jared says as they finally turn back onto his street. "It's fun!"
"Shut up before I kick you in the face," Jensen wheezes.
"No way you're that flexible," Jared says serenely.
"I'll kick you in the face while you sleep."
Jensen doesn't go running again, but he buys a set of free weights from the Home Shopping Network and gets them delivered to Jared's house. He sets them up in front of the TV and watches more 24 while he does tricep curls.
"I bet Jack Bauer goes running instead of lifting weights," Jared says, coming in from his run. He pulls off his t-shirt and uses it to wipe at the sweat on his face. It doesn't really do much good: the t-shirt was soaked to begin with, and his whole body's still dripping afterwards.
"Yeah, but Jack Bauer can also rip out your intestines and tie them in a knot," Jensen says. "With his bare hands."
"You're kind of intensely passive-aggressive these days," Jared says. "I think you need to get high or something."
Jensen finishes his second set of curls and lowers the weights to the floor. "Nah, I get really paranoid. Remember that one time at Chris's-"
"When we had to talk you out from under the kitchen table, right, never mind," Jared says. "That's three hours of my life I'll never have back."
"Who was the one who wanted to try the gravity bong again? I think I'm going to stick to booze, thanks."
"I'll see if any of the guys want to go out tonight," Jared says. "Let me make some calls."
"Okay, Tony Soprano."
It's a big group that ends up going, actually, or at least Jensen thinks it is. It's pretty hard to tell who at the bar is actually Jared's friend and who's someone he knows from high school and who's just some random girl he said hi to on the street once and who likes Jared so much now that she wanted to come up to him and talk to him for ages. Jared's the sort of guy who'll let that happen, easy smiles and conversation. There are probably some fans mixed in there, too-Jensen's decently sure he and Jared both get recognized a couple of times at least, the quick flit of eyes toward them and away-but mostly it just seems like Jared actually knows everyone in the bar, really knows them, well enough to talk to about their jobs and their families. The guy's friendly with everybody.
Jared's always been like that, though, and he's not really one to change. Jensen was worried for about a week that it was going to be different after Jared told him he was gay, but there wasn't anything new to get used to. It wasn't like he started dressing better or picked up the lisp; it wasn't like he stopped flirting with women, grins so big his dimples showed.
Jensen doesn't know what Jared got up to last summer while he was filming the third and (thank God) final Thomas Kinkade movie, but back in Vancouver last year Jensen watched him at bars, to see if he flirted with the bartenders-because some of them were definitely flirting with him. And Jared did, sure, but cautiously, not flirting with them any more than he'd always flirted with them. Jared's always kind of flirted with everyone. But Jensen's never seen him go home with a guy; either he's a seriously sneaky fucker or he's not actually getting laid. They haven't ever really talked about it, which, now that Jensen thinks about it, is kind of weird.
Now isn't the time to bring it up, though, not when Jared's in the middle of introducing him to what seems like every single person in the bar. Jensen catches about half of the names over the music-classic rock blaring loud, the way Dean would like it-and he forgets most of the names the moment he hears them. People keep buying him drinks: lots of tequila and whisky, the occasional beer. He can't turn around without someone handing him another shot. He passes some of them off to Jared but he drinks most of them himself and ends up crazy-drunk, leaning against the bar and half-listening while Jared talks to a couple of women-Ray and Mike's wives, maybe; it's hard to tell with the bar as hazy as it is and with the twinkling lights from the walls over-bright in his eyes.
Jensen talks to Ray for a while, something about fly-fishing. He's pretty sure Jared's flirting with the women, the way he always does. Ray follows where he's looking and says, "They're both single, and you know Jared ain't going for them. You want me to introduce you?"
"Nah," Jensen says, finishing off the last of his beer. "I'm good."
"You gotta get back in the game, you know?" Ray says. "You don't want to let this keep you down."
"Maybe next time," Jensen says, finishing off the last of his beer. "You want to play foosball?"
The whole time they're playing, Jared keeps flirting with those two women: grinning at them, letting them put their hands on his arm. He's good at flirting; he makes it look easy. He could definitely go home with either of them, if he wanted to. But it's not going to be an issue, and Jensen's glad when Jared comes over to him after the end of the second round of foosball and says, "Hey, you ready to call it a night?" and it's just the two of them taking a cab home.
*
After a while, Jensen's out of clean clothes. He'd do some laundry but Jared's washing machine is brand new and insanely complicated-looking, so he starts stealing Jared's t-shirts instead. The guy's probably got a hundred of them, some so old that they can't have fit Jared since he was in elementary school.
Jensen takes shirts he vaguely recognizes from the first couple seasons of Supernatural, back before Jared really started to bulk up. They fit just about right. At the start he tries to steal them when Jared isn't around, but then he gives up and starts heading for Jared's dresser first thing in the morning-it's easier. Jared puts up a token protest for a couple of days, but he doesn't really care, so Jensen makes it his goal to find the worst shirts in Jared's collection and wear them at all times.
"I didn't know you liked Fall Out Boy," Jensen says, holding up a shirt that's got a massive picture of Pete Wentz's face on it. It's one of the biggest shirts in the drawer; Jared must have bought it recently.
"Sandy dragged me to a concert last summer," Jared says.
"And you got a t-shirt?" Jensen says dubiously. An awful thought occurs to him, and he takes a closer look at the shirt. "You don't seriously think that Pete Wentz is-"
"I like their music," Jared says, sounding just about as horrified as Jensen feels. "That doesn't mean I want to-I can't even say it."
"Is it the eyeliner?" Jensen asks, shrugging the shirt on. It's kind of creepy to look down and see Pete Wentz on his chest.
"It's the not-showering-ever," Jared says. "And the ugliness. But mostly just the lice."
"You got any clean shorts?" Jensen asks. "I think Sadie puked on my jeans."
"Bottom drawer, on the left. You seriously think I would want to sleep with Pete Wentz?"
"There's no telling with you," Jensen says.
Jensen catches Jared wearing a pair of his boxers a couple days later. He lets it slide.
*
Around the middle of Jensen's second week in Texas, Megan starts coming over and playing video games with them. Her game system skills haven't really progressed past Super Nintendo, but she kicks Jared's ass at Mario.
"Aren't you supposed to have a job?" Jared grumbles when Megan beats him for the eighth time in a row.
"I'm living off your spoils," Megan says. She clicks through the game-over screen into a new game. "Jensen, you want a turn?"
"Nah, I want to watch Jared try to redeem himself. Again." Jensen's comfortable anyway, sprawled out on the couch with a beer in his hand and watching Jared and Megan on the floor, hunched up close to the screen.
"Good luck with that," Megan says.
"Your cockiness is going to be your downfall," Jared tells her, his voice deep and ominous.
"Okay, Zoltar," Megan says. "So hey, speaking of your spoils, when are you going to plan this party of yours?"
"What do you mean, plan?" Jared says. "I've already got a plan."
"Oh yeah?" Megan says, turning to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Yup," Jared says, beating her while she isn't looking. "Ha! Victory is mine."
"Your ass is going to be mine in a minute," she says, tackling him. Jared hits the floor hard, laughing, controller still in hand, while Megan tries to punch him in the stomach. Jared gets her in a headlock within thirty seconds, her legs flailing out as she tries to call a foul.
"Hey Jensen, tell Megan she should quit now if she knows what's good for her," Jared says, giving her a noogie.
"Fight to the death, Megan," Jensen says, grinning as she slips Jared's arms and gets in a couple good hits before they both fall over laughing. Jared catches Jensen's eye from the floor and grins at him, and the three beers in Jensen's stomach hit all of a sudden, make everything warmer and bright.
*
part two
Author: katjad
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 17,842
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles and all other people mentioned herein belong to themselves.
Summary: In which Jensen goes to Texas and gets drunk all the time, and wishes he were Prometheus, because then his poor dead liver would grow back every night. Also, eventually there is J2.
Author's Notes: This was written for Sweet Charity for a really awesome person who asked to remain anonymous. walkawayslowly went above and beyond with the beta work. This fic wouldn't be anywhere near what it is without her help. memphis86 also looked it over and fixed my huevos rancheros. Tragically not real ones, because those would be delicious right now.
Notes You Should Really Read: This is even more fictitious than the usual J2 fiction in that, for the purposes of this fic, Jared never proposed to Sandy. Also, randomly, there's a spoiler for 3x12 'Jus in Bello'.
Edit as of Feb. 13, 2010: Now with a PDF version, thanks to too_rational! You can download it here.
Farther Away from Where We Are
i.
They finish filming the fifth and last season of Supernatural on a Thursday in early April. Kripke ties up all the loose ends: every demon that ever got out has been sent back to Hell and there's no way for Lucifer to escape again. Sam and Dean clap each other on the back, get into the Impala and drive west into the setting sun. It's a good ending.
Jared and Jensen go out with the rest of the cast and crew and get completely trashed that night, then fly to L.A. the next morning. Jensen starts filming a project in less than two weeks, but he's seriously regretting being on a morning flight hung-over. It's fucking Jared's fault. He doesn't like flying at night-he likes being able to see what they're flying over, although honestly? Jensen hates to break it to him, but there ain't shit to see between L.A. and Vancouver.
But Jensen's got all kinds of lines to learn, and he hasn't seen Danneel in two months; and anyway, neither he nor Jared really wanted to hang out in Vancouver for long after the end of Supernatural.
Jared's already sold his house. He didn't think it made much sense to keep it when he wasn't going to be in Vancouver anymore. He hasn't had an apartment in L.A. since the end of the second season, so when they get to L.A. he crashes in the guest bedroom at Jensen's place. He's planning on staying for a few days, long enough to catch up with friends and Sandy-they're still close a year after the breakup-but he's headed back to Texas after that. He misses his family, and he's still got a bunch of buddies there, guys he's been friends with since high school and who he's stayed in touch with this whole time. Plus, he wants to take some time off.
"It's not like I really need a job right now," Jared says. They're at the airport again four days after they got back to L.A. He's wearing a button-down with some kind of blue design on it, and aviators, indoors. "I've got enough money to last me until I'm thirty-five, at least."
"How large you planning on living?" Jensen asks, raising an eyebrow.
Jared grins. "Think . . . My Super Sweet Sixteen. But like, every weekend."
"Oh, okay then," Jensen says. "But will there be choreographed dance routines? Inquiring minds want to know."
"Bitch, please," Jared says. "I think there should also be grizzlies. They could wrestle!"
"You're going to miss your flight, dude," Jensen says, pointing at the board. "You've got like thirty minutes to make it through security. Good luck, young Skywalker."
"C'mere," Jared says, pulling him in for a huge, long hug-and then fucking licking Jensen's ear.
"God, you're gross," Jensen says, scrubbing at his ear with his sleeve.
"You're going to miss me, right? Yeah, you're totally going to miss me."
Jensen grins. "I've got three words: Bruckheimer spy movie. Think I'll be too busy to miss your sorry ass."
Jared shrugs. "And I've got, uh-" He starts counting on his fingers, then gives up. "Whatever, more than three words: when Bruckheimer's got you out there for 5:30 calls, you're going to wish you were in Texas."
"Bruckheimer spy movie," Jensen repeats slowly, so its impact really gets through. He can tell the moment it does: Jared's mouth sliding into a grin.
"Yeah, okay, you've got a point. You're still going to come visit, right?"
"Soon as I can," Jensen says. "Seriously, you better run if you're going to catch that plane."
"Talk to you soon, man," Jared says, pulling him in for another hug-quicker this time-and then he's jogging off toward security, his duffel bag bouncing comically on his back.
They don't see each other again for two and a half months.
*
It's been nearly five years since Jensen was living in L.A. full-time, but it's kind of nice to be back. He's always liked L.A.-near-perpetual sunshine and no humidity, and if there's occasional smog, well, that's not all that different from Dallas. It hadn't taken him long to get used to California in the first place, and coming back after being in Vancouver is even easier: nearly all of his friends live there; he's famous enough now that he doesn't have to worry about finding good scripts; and Danneel's there, too. She just got done with the season of One Tree Hill (they've taken to calling it The Show That Will Not Die) and now she's in L.A.-just for the summer. She'll be back in North Carolina in the fall, but Jensen's done long-distance with her before and it's worked out just fine.
It's a little amazing to Jensen that they're still together. A year and a half ago he would have sworn that if anyone was going to make it for the long haul, it'd be Jared and Sandy, but it was pretty clear by the end of filming the fourth season that their relationship wasn't going to work out. And then Jared came out, which really explained a lot about just how many International Male catalogs he had lying around-"I just like the clothes!" only goes so far. So yeah, Jared and Sandy didn't make it, and they'd always seemed like they were going to be a permanent thing in a way that he and Danneel never had. But they're making it work.
Jensen's days are longer right now than they were for Supernatural, even-they start earlier and go later. It's not an easy shoot, and he's not seeing as much of Danneel as he'd like. She's doing some modeling work over the summer-magazine ads, mostly.
"My agent might be getting me some commercial work later in the summer," Danneel says, pulling off her shirt. "Starting in July or so."
"What kind of commercials?" Jensen asks. He kisses her neck and lies down on the bed, pulling her over next to him.
"Cosmetics stuff, mostly. Hopefully for Maybelline," she says, pushing his boxers down and rolling a condom on expertly. "You mind if I ride you?"
"Go for it," Jensen says, a little strangled, as she sinks down onto him.
When she rolls off him afterwards, tossing the condom in the trash, she says, "So are you seriously going to set three alarms?"
"I'm not going to wake up if I don't," Jensen says into her neck.
Danneel sighs. "Do you really have to get up? I mean, really?"
"I only wish I didn't. It's just, I'm filming this thing, it's called a movie-"
Danneel smacks him with a pillow, but she doesn't really mind getting up early. She likes to go jogging early while the streets are mostly empty, and then she likes to go to the first yoga classes of the day; she can be completely done with all that before she even has to think about heading out for a photo shoot. She likes being up early, Jensen knows, and Jensen likes having her there. It works. He's busy as hell, feels like he's got eight different things he's forgetting about all the time, but it works.
The project Jensen's doing is still called the Untitled Wrigley Project a month and a half into filming-with good reason. No one's going to go to a movie called Blasphemy of the Deep, no matter how hard the writer pushes that as a title. It's a movie about a sniper; it doesn't even make sense.
As the CIA officer who tracks the sniper (Jake Gyllenhaal) down, Jensen spends a lot of time on-screen looking stressed and drinking coffee. It's kind of like being Dean Winchester again, except that Agent William Brighton is way more obsessive than Dean ever was. He's a lot like Henriksen, really, except that he doesn't get blown up by a demon. It's a good script, a good character-he really feels like he's got something worth doing here.
Jensen calls Jared a few times a week. Jensen doesn't actually catch him that often-Jared's schedule is basically completely the opposite of Jensen's, in that Jared is sleeping all day and going out at night, and Jensen isn't-but they leave messages for each other: obscure one-liners from movies, loud music at bars, the occasional bit of heavy stalker-breathing. Jensen imagines Jared cracking his shit up when he gets those messages. Occasionally they actually talk: about the set; Bruckheimer; the two PAs he caught making out, the way they fell over themselves trying to get apart, then the girl asked for his autograph-
"You gave it to her, right?" Jared asks.
"Who do you think I am, you?" Jensen grumbles.
"You totally did. Aww, look at you being good to your fans!"
Jared talks about being at home, about finding a new house three weeks after he moves back-a little place, two bedrooms, not that different from the house in Vancouver-and about trying to put on a screened porch and fucking it up so badly that they had to call 911.
"It was just a little fire!" Jared says while Jensen howls laughter.
"Bet you got singed, didn't you? Hey, you get any cool scars?"
"Fuck you."
Nearly all of Jared's friends are still there-gone off to college, gone off to business school, but they've come back, gotten married, started having kids. It's different than it used to be, sure, but Jared's still as tight with them as he's always been.
"You'd like these guys," Jared tells him over the phone. "You're still coming, right? When are you done filming?"
"June 19th, if we stay on schedule," Jensen says.
"You should come then!"
"I'll see what I can do."
"Bullshit, man, get your ass down here!" Jared yells, and then hangs up the phone, laughing.
Jensen shakes his head at the phone and pockets it, grinning a little.
*
It doesn't seem like anything at first, with Danneel. Toward the middle of June she starts having more modeling jobs-and it's good, it's definitely good for her, but she's not around as much. One of the jobs, a spread for Ralph Lauren, is shooting at night over half a week. She doesn't get out until three in the morning, and Jensen has to be up by five. It doesn't make any sense for her to come over when their schedules are so off. It's sad, but there isn't really anything to be done for it.
They go five days without seeing each other at all, before finally Jensen's got Saturday off.
"You want to meet for brunch?" Jensen asks.
"Hmm," Danneel says. "I'm busy until late afternoon. Is dinner okay?"
"At six?"
"Better make it seven, just in case," Danneel says, clicking the phone closed before Jensen can confirm.
They go to a little place in West Hollywood and Jensen watches her push her field greens around her plate. Their conversation is as easy as it always is, but her mouth is tight around the corners.
"Everything okay?" Jensen asks when she gets a refill on the wine.
"Yeah, I'm just a little stressed, that's all," she says. "I thought I was going to get the weekend off, but I've got meetings all day tomorrow, in Burbank-you know, about that pilot I might be filming?"
"About the hot young teachers?" Jensen says.
"That's the one," Danneel says. "Oh, and I forgot to say earlier, I've got dinner plans afterwards."
"Oh," Jensen says. "That's okay. You going to come over after that?"
Danneel frowns, considering. "No, you know, I really shouldn't. It's probably going to run late, and I don't want you to stay up late, not when you've got your last week of filming starting on Monday. I don't want you to be tired for that."
It's going to be weird to have a whole day to himself, but it's probably not a bad thing: Jensen can't remember the last time he got more than five hours of sleep in a row. He sleeps until noon and wakes up disoriented, with the sun in his eyes. He orders a breakfast burrito from a place on Olympic and spends all day watching ESPN and not thinking about the movie. It's nice. And then he's pushing through the week and the end of the shoot-it's impossible to tell in advance, it always is, but he thinks this movie is going to end up being good.
Jensen goes out afterwards with the cast. He doesn't really intend to get drunk, but Jake Gyllenhaal is a little bitch like that, keeping Jensen's glass full no matter how many times shots he takes. It's not the worst hangover Jensen's ever had. The next morning, he mostly just wants a lot of coffee and something really greasy, like potato boats. He's not entirely sure where you can get those at nine in the morning, so he goes back to bed.
At ten-thirty he gets a call from Danneel. "You busy? You want to meet me for brunch in half an hour?"
Somehow Jensen finds himself agreeing to it. They go to a place in Santa Monica-one of Danneel's favorites. She's already got a table when he gets there, and there's a half-drunk cappuccino in front of her. "Sorry, I was early," she says, gesturing at it. "You know what you want?"
"Uh, sure," Jensen says, since she's already flagging the waiter down. He ends up ordering pecan pancakes by mistake, even though that's not actually what he wants at all. He wants grease.
Danneel makes a lot of small talk. "Crazy weather, huh? Fifty-five degrees in June?"
Jensen's not paying attention to what she's saying so much as the fact that she's so jittery she's shaking. Caffeine has that effect on her when she drinks too much of it before she eats anything. He keeps asking her if she's okay, and she keeps telling him she's fine, sure, did he hear about that four-car pileup on the 10 at Robertson last night?
The fifth time he asks, she finally snaps. "Yeah, no. You're right. I'm not okay."
"Okay," Jensen says. "Hey, look, there's the waiter with our food right now." It's not good when she's got low blood sugar. She'll get some food in her system and then she'll be fine.
"This isn't working," Danneel says.
"I don't-the food's right there," Jensen says, nodding toward the waiter.
Danneel sighs. "I'm not talking about the food, Jensen. This isn't working. We aren't working."
The waiter arrives at their table just then, and neither of them says anything while he's there. The moment is frozen. Jensen's mouth is open; he's staring at Danneel across the table-and she looks back at him, mouth down-turned and eyes a little sad, and then she looks back at the waiter to say thank you. The waiter is gone and the moment is gone, and it's Jensen's turn to speak.
"Um. Did I miss something?" he asks slowly, awkwardly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she says, though she never specifies to what, and then she pats his hand. "It's been this way for a while. You didn't-I mean-" She laughs a little, nervously. "We never thought this was going to be it, you know?"
The way she intones it is the same way Jared used to when he talked about Sandy back when they first started dating, when to look at him you'd have thought Jared couldn't ever fall out of love with her; there was just no way. The thought makes Jensen incredibly melancholy.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "I know. I-okay, yeah." He looks down at his plate. His stomach rumbles in protest; pancakes are really about the last thing he wants right now.
"You should eat before your food gets cold," Danneel says, completely misinterpreting the sound, and picks up her fork.
They don't really talk for the rest of the meal. Danneel eats her entire veggie omelette and gets an extra side order of home fries; Jensen eats about three bites of pancakes, then spends the rest of the time steadily draining his coffee-the waiters refill the cup every time he puts it down-and pretending he isn't watching Danneel eat.
Danneel pays the bill at the end. "It's my turn," she says, handing over her AmEx, and even if it isn't Jensen doesn't really want to argue.
They're parked next to each other in the garage across the street. Danneel smiles at him and says, "So I'll see you around, right? I mean, we're still friends?"
"Sure," Jensen says, his hand on the door of his pickup. He lets her pull out first, then follows her down Lincoln a ways before turning off. On a whim, he stops at a Carls Jr. on the way home and order three large hash browns. He eats two of them in the car and the third in the elevator. He can't decide if the hangover is better afterwards or worse. He lies down on top of the covers and turns the TV on, falling asleep right away. He's completely fine.
*
"I don't care what you say, man. This is the opposite of the definition of fine." Steve gestures at the pile of pizza boxes on the counter-mostly empty, Jensen's pretty sure he raided the last of the sausage pizza while he was drunk last night-and the trashcan, overflowing with Chinese takeout containers. "If I'd known it was this bad, I would have brought in the Red Cross."
"That doesn't even make sense," Jensen says, tilting his sunglasses higher up on his nose. The sunlight coming through his windows is bright. Fucking Steve, opening the blinds up.
"Basically you're living in a war zone," Steve says.
Jensen ignores him to dump his half-eaten carton of beef and broccoli on top of the pile of other cartons. The stack tilts precariously but doesn't fall over.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks. They both wince. "Revise that. I mean, do you want to talk to Riley? He knows all about getting dumped by Danneel, since she dumped him for you and all. You could start an I Got Dumped by Danneel Harris club."
Jensen opens the fridge and twists the tops off a couple bottles of Bud Light. He hands one to Steve, who tips it toward him and drains half of it at a go. "You're really in finer pain-in-the-ass form than usual," Jensen says. "Aren't you supposed to be on tour in Arizona?"
Steve shrugs. "Not since yesterday, I'm not. Look, I'm just saying, it's the middle of June. It's nice outside! When was the last time you went outside?"
Jensen gives him a death glare. He's pretty sure that most of the effect is lost on Steve since Jensen's still wearing his sunglasses. "How do you even know Danneel broke up with me in the first place?"
Steve gestures vaguely with his beer. "There was some thing you were supposed to be at last Thursday? You didn't show, people made some calls, whatever, the point is, you need to be doing something different here. You need to get out of L.A. You should go to Vegas."
"Right, because getting drunk and losing $5,000 at blackjack is an excellent way of dealing with a break-up," Jensen says. "Not that anyone I know has ever done that."
"It was $3,500, and my fuckin' ex put me through the wringer and you know it," Steve says. "Fine, it doesn't have to be Vegas. It can be wherever you want. I'm still driving you to the airport in twenty minutes, and you're getting on a plane."
Jensen blows air out through his nose and loosens the death grip he's got on his beer. He hasn't left the apartment in a week. He's been ignoring his cell phone since Wednesday-which might explain how he missed whatever thing Steve's talking about-and apparently every single person he's friends with in the state of California already knows about the break-up, even though he hasn't been speaking with any of them. He doesn't really want to change that, either, at this point, not since everything they're going to want to talk about is the break-up, and how's he coping, and did he hear that Danneel was out with one of the models from one of her commercials last night? Is he doing okay?
"Fine," Jensen says, because suddenly staying in L.A. doesn't sound that awesome. "But you're paying for the ticket."
"With what I make?" Steve says innocently.
Jensen finally takes the sunglasses off and looks at him. "Dude, you drive an Escalade."
Steve's mouth curves downwards. "Fine. You better not be heading to Thailand. I hear Thailand's sweet, but I am not sending you to Thailand."
"I'm not going to Thailand," Jensen says, heading toward the back of the apartment to pack.
*
In the end, Jensen doesn't even have to think about it. There's a flight to San Antonio at six p.m., and he's on it. He calls Jared from the gate at LAX to tell him that he's coming and Jared crows and says, "Fuck yeah, you're coming to Texas!" which Jensen takes to mean he'll see Jared's beat-up pickup truck outside the terminal when he gets in.
Jensen spends the flight stuck between a woman with a nasty cold and a man who's even bigger than Jared and has somehow managed to wedge himself into the aisle seat. Jensen tries to push himself as far back into his seat as he can get, but there's really no escaping. In the row across the aisle, three elementary-schoolers have their own seats. Fucking unfair. Steve should have shelled out for first class, the cheap bastard, especially since he's trying to help Jensen get over a breakup here.
They land in San Antonio around eleven, and Jared pulls up to the curb before Jensen even finishes turning his cell phone back on. Jared gives him a hug across the center console and says, "Hey, you hungry? There's a barbeque place between here and the house, if you want to-"
"Yes," Jensen says, his stomach growling to back him up.
The barbeque is hot and tangy on Jensen's tongue, his stomach rumbling as he eats. Jared finishes three sandwiches in the time it takes Jensen to eat two, then lets loose with a with a steady string of questions: how was the end of filming and how was working with Bruckheimer and is he still liking L.A.? Jensen answers unthinkingly, an easy back-and-forth-and then Jared says, "How's Danneel?"
Jensen freezes, then says, "We broke up." He's half a beat too slow for it to sound casual, like it isn't a big deal; he's pretty sure Jared noticed.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I had no idea. When?"
"About a week ago."
Jared nods like he's putting things together-that's why Jensen looks like shit; that's why he didn't return those two phone calls this past week. Jared looks like he wants to ask all kinds of questions, but he only says, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Jensen says. "Not really."
And for all that Jensen likes to compare Jared to an overgrown puppy, always sticking his nose where it shouldn't go, Jared really knows when to back off sometimes. He just nods and says, "Okay," and then, "So I told Harley and Sadie you were coming, so maybe we should get back and make sure they haven't wrecked the place."
"I don't think I'm really that exciting," Jensen says dryly.
"Aww, don't sell yourself short," Jared says, punching Jensen's shoulder-and Jensen leans into the hit. Jared's fist is solid and warm.
*
The dogs haven't actually destroyed the house, but they do their best to bowl Jensen over the moment he gets through the front door. Jensen backs up against the kitchen counter and pets them until they calm down. It takes a good five minutes before they settle enough for Jensen to get away.
"You've got to be jetlagged," Jared says, picking up Jensen's duffel bag and heading up the stairs. "Here, the guest bedroom's on the right, and the bathroom's just through here." He gestures toward what's got to be the master bedroom. "I put out towels on the end of your bed."
"Thanks, Mom," Jensen says, dodging as Jared swings at him, and heading into the room.
Jared's wrong about the jetlag. It's a little after midnight here, ten p.m. in L.A., and Jensen's nowhere near ready to fall asleep yet. He gets ready to go to bed anyway, though, and spends about four hours staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about anything at all.
The jetlag hits solidly in the morning when Harley and Sadie bound into his room and drool on him until he wakes up. It's nine o'clock here, the sun angling brightly through the blinds and hitting Jensen's face; his body's still screaming that it's the middle of the night. Getting out of bed and shrugging a shirt on is fucking hard.
Jared's got pancakes and bacon ready in the kitchen, at least, along with a full pot of coffee, strong and black. Jensen doesn't move out of arm's reach of the coffeemaker until he's well into his third cup.
"Your addiction is reaching terrifying proportions," Jared tells him. "I'd put you through detox, but I haven't actually had the shackles installed in the basement yet."
"You don't have a basement," Jensen says, pulling his coffee cup closer in.
Jared waves a hand at him. "Details. So hey, you want to see the house?"
Jared's already told him almost everything there is to hear about the place over the phone, but Jared stares at him until he admits that the light fixture in the dining room brings out the blues and greens in the drapes and that the tan paint with the white trim really does make the hallway brighter.
Jensen finally catches on when Jared wants him to compliment the way the refrigerator notches into the wooden cabinetry. "You bought everything they told you to buy at Home Depot, didn't you? Come on, dude, I thought you were supposed to automatically get awesome at style when you turned gay."
"Oh my God, that's what I forgot in gay school!" Jared says.
Jensen cracks up. "Remember how you thought a futon was the only piece of furniture you needed in Vancouver?"
"Oh, whatever," Jared says. "It wasn't just a futon. I also had a TV, a microwave and a mini-fridge. I was good to go! It's not my fault Sandy had standards."
"So what was I supposed to have done, brought my own sleeping bag?"
"It was a big futon!" Jared says.
Jensen scoffs. "You're like eight feet tall, dude. Also, you drool."
"I'll show you drool," Jared says, tackling Jensen onto the sofa. Jensen ends up with his face squished so deep into the cushions that he can't inhale anything but the smell of new leather and Jared's body.
"I hate you a lot," Jensen says into Jared's side.
"That's what they all say," Jared tells him when he finally rolls off Jensen's head. For a moment Jared stares at him funny, like there's something else he wants to say but won't, and the look on his face doesn't really make sense-but then the moment passes and Jared is pulling him all the way up, just for Jensen to tackle him back down to the couch again.
*
After three days, Jensen's duffel bag is entirely empty. Somehow the contents have gotten spread all over the entirety of Jared's house. It's not a big house-seven or eight rooms, depending on whether or not you're Jared and you count the hallway-but it's still annoying. Jensen will be looking for a shirt he swears he'd laid out on the guest bed, and he'll find it in the kitchen, hanging over the back of a chair.
"Dude, you don't want to wear that until I've washed it," Jared says, coming back into the house from his run. "I caught Harley with it in his mouth earlier. He really likes stealing your stuff."
"Only my stuff?" Jensen says.
"Well yeah," Jared says, tossing the shirt into the washer. "He's already stolen everything I own like eight times."
"Oh," Jensen says, like it makes sense. To Jared, it probably does.
Jared likes to go for a run early in the morning, before it gets too hot to leave the house, and he's got coffee made by the time Jensen wakes up. They play a lot of Wii and eat a lot of cereal. Jared's got enough cereal stockpiled to last them through World War III. Other than that, it's slim pickings in his kitchen: a lot of frozen vegetables, some Minute Rice, not a whole lot of meat.
"My mom stocked the fridge when I moved in," Jared says. "I haven't actually had to go to the grocery store yet."
"So what you mean is, you grilled all the meat, and you've been living off cereal ever since."
"Also takeout," Jared says. "Don't sell General Tsao short. The man knows how to cook chicken."
They make stir-fry three nights in a row. Jared's got plenty of soy sauce, and it's hard to fuck up stir-fry. Jared's also got plenty of Corona and limes, so when he does fuck it up, they just drink for a while and then the stir-fry tastes fine.
After dinner they sit on the screened porch for a while. It's over ninety degrees even after sundown, but Jared just finished the porch, damn it, and he's determined that they're going to use it.
"We're sitting in a pool of our own sweat," Jensen tells him. "Like, if the walls of the porch were concrete, we would actually be able to go swimming in your porch."
"Are you trying to pussy out on me here?"
"Is this a contest now?" Jensen says.
"First one to pussy out owes the other a case of beer," Jared says, tipping his beer toward Jensen. "Good luck, yo."
They last maybe another ten minutes before Jared calls it off. "Fuck this, I'm sweating so much I can't see, and I've got to take a piss."
"We all know about you and sweating, dude," Jensen says. "It's like you think I didn't spend the past five years with your rank ass. Also, you owe me a case of beer."
"Who do you think bought that beer in your hand?" Jared says, pausing with the sliding door open.
"Your mom," Jensen says.
"Fuck you, she didn't buy the beer!"
"Dude, just let me back in the goddamned house," Jensen says, shoving past Jared and heading straight for the shower. He turns the knob all the way to cold, and spends about three minutes enjoying the fact that it's still possible to shiver after the heat of the San Antonio night, humidity thick enough to slice.
After that Jensen's balls start to shrivel, so he heads back downstairs and gets a new beer, icy from the fridge, and they both watch a couple episodes of 24. He and Jared try to decide who'd be more likely to win in a fight against a T-Rex, Jack Bauer or John McClane from the Die Hard movies-Jensen's vote is on McClane-but after a while the argument dies out while they watch Jack Bauer kill multiple people with his bare hands, and also land a commercial jet on a made-up freeway.
Jensen has to at least partially concede the point. "He's pretty fucking badass."
"It could still go either way," Jared says.
That's pretty much how all their conversations go: easy banter, arguments over Call of Duty strategy and placing bets on just when the beer can pyramid Chad started when he came to visit a couple weeks ago is going to collapse. Jensen's giving it a week, tops; Jared thinks it's never going to collapse, because, "Chad's like a cockroach, dude. Anything he touches cannot die."
"I don't think your logic is entirely sound," Jensen says. If he's lucky, one of the dogs will knock it over in the night.
They talk about pretty much anything, but they don't talk about the break-up, and Jared never mentions Danneel. It's a little pathetic how grateful Jensen is. It's not like it was a bad break-up or anything. It's just that it came out of nowhere, that's all.
Danneel calls once, a couple days after Jensen goes to Texas. Jensen doesn't make it to the phone in time to pick up, but she leaves a voicemail. Jensen spends twenty minutes staring at the screen, psyching himself up to listen to the message, before he finally hits the power-off button and tosses the phone somewhere into the recesses of Jared's closet. He sort of hopes he never finds it again.
*
On Jensen's fourth morning in San Antonio, Jared corners him before he gets down the stairs. "So hey, my parents just got back from helping my sister move out of her apartment in College Station, and they wanted to know if you were up for a barbeque this afternoon."
Jensen doesn't even have his contacts in yet, so it takes him a while to process. "Sure," he says, rubbing at his eyes. "Is there coffee?"
"Man, I could have gotten you to agree to anything," Jared says, handing Jensen coffee. "I could have made you swear to shave your balls and wear a dress for the next week."
"Do that and die," Jensen says, drinking more coffee. He swears his vision is getting better with every sip, and then he realizes he never actually took his contacts out last night. He just hadn't noticed before. The degree of his coffee addiction is starting to scare even him.
They head to Jared's parents' house around one, when Jared's parents have mostly finished unloading the two cars and the U-Haul trailer. There are still about a dozen boxes left in the back of the U-Haul, along with a couch.
"Don't worry, we left some of the fun for you," Megan says, coming out of the house. "Hey, Jensen, what are you doing hanging around with this loser?"
"It's not my fault," Jensen tells her. "The guy keeps following me around or something."
Megan sighs. "Jared, I know I keep saying you need to get a boyfriend, but stalking Jensen totally doesn't count."
"Who was it that used to have a poster of Jensen on her wall?" Jared says, pulling her into some combination of a hug and headlock. "Oh, yeah, that was you."
"It was the promo poster for your show, you freak," Megan says, laughing, and failing to get out of grip. "Nice effort, though."
"So how'd the five-year college plan work out for you?" Jared asks, finally letting her loose.
"It's called a 3-2 program, dork. It was supposed to last five years," Megan says.
"All I'm hearing is, 'I was supposed to be out of college a year ago,'" Jared says.
"And all I'm hearing is, 'Oh my God, I never went to college! I knew I was forgetting something!'"
Jared grins. "One of us has enough money to last the rest of his life, is all I'm saying."
"Don't worry, he's going to blow it all on his Super Sweet Sixteen," Jensen says. "He wants bears to wrestle for him."
"Hey, your birthday's in a month, JT," Megan says. "If you want the Spice Girls to sing for you, you'd really better get on it."
"Fuck you both," Jared says.
Jensen and Jared wrestle the couch out of the back of the U-Haul and onto the front lawn, while Megan looks on and makes helpful comments-"You're going to throw out your back if you keep lifting with your arms, bro."-and Jared nearly drops the couch on his foot trying to flip Megan off without putting it down first. Jensen gets a stitch in his side, laughing at him.
Once they finally get it on the lawn, they spend a while staring at it. "You really want us to take this inside the house?" Jared says. "Where the heck is it supposed to go?"
"My room, duh," Megan says.
"You've got so much shit in there you can't even walk across the room!" Jared says.
"Just put it on the back porch for now, boys, if you would," Jared's mom says, walking across the yard. "It's lovely to see you again, Jensen! It's been too long."
"It's good to see you, too, Sherri," Jensen says, leaning into her hug. "So where do you want us to take this?"
"Just through the hallway and onto the porch, that would be lovely."
It's maybe thirty yards from the front yard to the back porch, if even, but Jensen's covered in sweat by the time they put the couch down. And if Jensen's sweaty, Jared looks like he might as well have gone swimming with his clothes on.
"C'mere, Megan, who wants a hug?" Jared says, tackling her.
"Ugh, gross, I can see your sweat marks," she says, disentangling herself.
"That's the price you pay for making us carry your couch!" Jared says.
The food's ready around three, and Jensen's reasonably sure that Jared eats half of it and the rest of them eat the other half. Jared's plate doesn't actually stay empty for more than about three seconds at a time-Sherri's quick with the refills-but it's kind of astonishing. Jensen's been watching Jared eat for years, but it's like the guy has entire extra stomachs for his mom's barbeque, like a cow.
"I do have a barbeque stomach, it's true," Jared says, polishing off his fifth plate. "I also have a peach cobbler stomach."
"It's a good thing I made some, then, because I'd hate for your cobbler stomach to go hungry," Sherri says, going into the kitchen and coming back out with a dish of cobbler and a tub of vanilla ice cream.
Jared makes the kinds of noises while eating dessert that most people make in the middle of a mind-blowing blowjob. It's not like Jensen's never heard Jared go orgasmic over food before, but it still makes him flush a little. But Jared must have been making those sorts of noises while eating since he was born, because it doesn't seem to faze his family.
"So, same thing, this time tomorrow?" Jared says, polishing off the last of the cobbler.
"Don't talk about food right now, I might die," Jensen says. "I'm pretty sure this is what captives feel like after the cannibals have finished fattening them up. Y'know, just before they eat them."
Jared laughs. "You calling my family a bunch of cannibals, Ackles?"
"You're scary when you're hungry, is all I'm sayin'. Also, your teeth are pretty pointy."
"They're for ripping your flesh to shreds, you caught me." Jared flashes a grin, totally proving Jensen's point.
"So, JT, you find yourself a boyfriend yet?" Sherri asks, dumping more barbeque on his plate.
"Man, Spanish Inquisition from all sides," Jared says, grinning. "I swear y'all are teaming up on me here."
"I'm guessing that's a no," Jared's dad says.
Jared goes a little red and Sherri says, "Geez, Jerry, cut the kid a break."
"You and Danneel are still going strong, though, aren't you?" Jerry says, turning to Jensen.
For a fraction of a second it's like the whole room goes still, but really it's just Jensen who froze. "Uh, no, actually. We're not," Jensen says. He's quicker with it this time-Jared's the only one who seems to notice that he's not that casual about it. "We broke up a couple weeks ago."
"Oh," Jerry says. "Sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to pry."
"Yeah, y'know, Jensen probably doesn't want to-" Jared begins, but Jensen cuts in quickly.
"No, it's fine." In response to Jared's raised eyebrow he adds, "Really."
"Oh, honey," Sherri says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you doing okay?"
"We just realized it wasn't going to work out," Jensen says. "That's all."
The conversation moves quickly away from Danneel, toward other things: sports, needling Megan about getting a job, Jared asking when it's going to be time for dinner. Jensen can feel Jared's eyes on him the whole time; he can feel Jared's tension.
Once they're back at the house, Jared says, "I'm sorry about that, man. I really should have told them before we went over there. I just wasn't thinking about it."
"Jared. It's fine. Really."
"You sure?" Jared says, looking right at him. It's hard to stay still under his gaze.
"Yeah," Jensen says. He's not entirely sure whether or not he's lying. "Hey, whatever happened to your big partying life here? Did your friends all move out just in time for me to show up?"
"Oh," Jared says. "No, they're around. Want me to call them?"
And then Jensen gets it. "Dude, were you trying to make sure I was okay before you brought over your friends? Were you going all suicide watch on me? You were, weren't you?"
"Suicide watch is a little strong," Jared says, flushing. "More like . . . 'making sure you're okay' watch. You think you're okay?"
"Ask me that one more time and I'll kick your ass," Jensen says.
Jared grins. "There's a Rangers game on at seven. I'll give the guys a call." But there's still something in Jared's face, like maybe he still think Jensen's lying. And maybe he is. But maybe if he keeps saying he's fine often enough, it'll start to be true.
Hanging out with Jared's friends is easy enough. Three of them come over around 6:30 and they spend the whole game yelling at the TV and drinking. It's not the first time Jensen's met Mike-he came out to L.A. for an insurance conference a couple years ago while Supernatural was on hiatus, and Jared brought him out with some of the guys out there-but Dave and Ray are new to him. They're all a lot like Jared: funny, easy-going, fans of sports and cheap beer. Jensen's reasonably sure that Jared warned them ahead of time not to talk about women, since none of them comes anywhere close to bringing up Danneel, and Mike even met her when he was in California before, but it's okay. It's kind of nice to think about baseball and nothing else, yelling at the umps every time they make a call against the Rangers, whether it's a fair call or not.
The game goes into extra innings, but Jensen's the only one who watches it all the way through to the end: Jared's friends all have to go to work in the morning. "Good to see you, Jensen," Mike says, shaking Jensen's hand as he and the other two leave. "We should do this again."
"Yeah, for sure," Jensen says, closing the door behind them. Jared's already asleep on the couch, beer tilted precariously to the side. Jensen takes the bottle out of his hand and puts it down on the coffee table. After a moment, he picks it back up and drains it. There were only a couple sips left in the bottom, anyway. He makes a perfunctory effort to wake Jared up, but the guy's so passed out he might as well be dead-the full day of sweating, drinking and eating must've gotten to him. Jensen pulls a blanket over Jared, grinning at his snores, and then goes upstairs, where he falls asleep thinking about pop-flies in the outfield and the strikeout in the thirteenth inning: a curveball over the plate, the swing of the bat, and the slap of the ball into the glove for the end of the game. He sleeps better than he has in days.
*
A week after he threw it in Jared's closet, Jensen digs out his cell phone and calls his agent. "I've been trying to get in touch with you for ages," she says the moment she picks up. "Jesus, did you drop off the face of the earth or something?"
"Something like that," Jensen says.
"Oh God, tell me you're not in rehab," she says.
"I'm not in rehab."
"No, I mean, tell me that and mean it. You're actually in rehab, aren't you, and I'm going to have to cover for you, and-"
"I'm not in rehab," Jensen says. "I'm in Texas."
That stops her for a moment. "Texas."
"I'm taking some time off," Jensen tells her. It feels good to say it out loud.
"Some time off, as in, a week or two? Because there's some stuff I'd really like you to look at. I've got some scripts that I think you might be interested in."
"You can send them to me here," Jensen says, giving her Jared's address. As soon as he hangs up he turns the phone back off again, without listening to any of his voicemails.
When the scripts start showing up two days later, Jensen doesn't even make the pretense of reading them. He just starts adding them to the pile of Jared's unread scripts, ever-growing.
*
After the second time they beat Call of Duty, Jensen starts to get antsy. It's like he's a mixture of pent-up energy and sluggishness-like he needs to find something to do, but not work. He hasn't taken any serious stretch of time off work since he was nineteen; he doesn't really know what to do with himself when he's not acting.
"I think you need to start working out again," Jared says, pinching Jensen's gut. "You're getting a little chubby."
"Your ass is chubby," Jensen says.
"Yeah, but my ass is working for me. Yours isn't, dude."
Jensen goes running with him the next morning. He'd worked out for the Bruckheimer movie, but that was mostly weightlifting and core stuff; it's been so long since he actually went running that he'd forgotten just how much running sucks. But Jared's like a fucking Greyhound. For as much as the guy's sweating, he never seems to get winded.
"You just need to get used to running again," Jared says as they finally turn back onto his street. "It's fun!"
"Shut up before I kick you in the face," Jensen wheezes.
"No way you're that flexible," Jared says serenely.
"I'll kick you in the face while you sleep."
Jensen doesn't go running again, but he buys a set of free weights from the Home Shopping Network and gets them delivered to Jared's house. He sets them up in front of the TV and watches more 24 while he does tricep curls.
"I bet Jack Bauer goes running instead of lifting weights," Jared says, coming in from his run. He pulls off his t-shirt and uses it to wipe at the sweat on his face. It doesn't really do much good: the t-shirt was soaked to begin with, and his whole body's still dripping afterwards.
"Yeah, but Jack Bauer can also rip out your intestines and tie them in a knot," Jensen says. "With his bare hands."
"You're kind of intensely passive-aggressive these days," Jared says. "I think you need to get high or something."
Jensen finishes his second set of curls and lowers the weights to the floor. "Nah, I get really paranoid. Remember that one time at Chris's-"
"When we had to talk you out from under the kitchen table, right, never mind," Jared says. "That's three hours of my life I'll never have back."
"Who was the one who wanted to try the gravity bong again? I think I'm going to stick to booze, thanks."
"I'll see if any of the guys want to go out tonight," Jared says. "Let me make some calls."
"Okay, Tony Soprano."
It's a big group that ends up going, actually, or at least Jensen thinks it is. It's pretty hard to tell who at the bar is actually Jared's friend and who's someone he knows from high school and who's just some random girl he said hi to on the street once and who likes Jared so much now that she wanted to come up to him and talk to him for ages. Jared's the sort of guy who'll let that happen, easy smiles and conversation. There are probably some fans mixed in there, too-Jensen's decently sure he and Jared both get recognized a couple of times at least, the quick flit of eyes toward them and away-but mostly it just seems like Jared actually knows everyone in the bar, really knows them, well enough to talk to about their jobs and their families. The guy's friendly with everybody.
Jared's always been like that, though, and he's not really one to change. Jensen was worried for about a week that it was going to be different after Jared told him he was gay, but there wasn't anything new to get used to. It wasn't like he started dressing better or picked up the lisp; it wasn't like he stopped flirting with women, grins so big his dimples showed.
Jensen doesn't know what Jared got up to last summer while he was filming the third and (thank God) final Thomas Kinkade movie, but back in Vancouver last year Jensen watched him at bars, to see if he flirted with the bartenders-because some of them were definitely flirting with him. And Jared did, sure, but cautiously, not flirting with them any more than he'd always flirted with them. Jared's always kind of flirted with everyone. But Jensen's never seen him go home with a guy; either he's a seriously sneaky fucker or he's not actually getting laid. They haven't ever really talked about it, which, now that Jensen thinks about it, is kind of weird.
Now isn't the time to bring it up, though, not when Jared's in the middle of introducing him to what seems like every single person in the bar. Jensen catches about half of the names over the music-classic rock blaring loud, the way Dean would like it-and he forgets most of the names the moment he hears them. People keep buying him drinks: lots of tequila and whisky, the occasional beer. He can't turn around without someone handing him another shot. He passes some of them off to Jared but he drinks most of them himself and ends up crazy-drunk, leaning against the bar and half-listening while Jared talks to a couple of women-Ray and Mike's wives, maybe; it's hard to tell with the bar as hazy as it is and with the twinkling lights from the walls over-bright in his eyes.
Jensen talks to Ray for a while, something about fly-fishing. He's pretty sure Jared's flirting with the women, the way he always does. Ray follows where he's looking and says, "They're both single, and you know Jared ain't going for them. You want me to introduce you?"
"Nah," Jensen says, finishing off the last of his beer. "I'm good."
"You gotta get back in the game, you know?" Ray says. "You don't want to let this keep you down."
"Maybe next time," Jensen says, finishing off the last of his beer. "You want to play foosball?"
The whole time they're playing, Jared keeps flirting with those two women: grinning at them, letting them put their hands on his arm. He's good at flirting; he makes it look easy. He could definitely go home with either of them, if he wanted to. But it's not going to be an issue, and Jensen's glad when Jared comes over to him after the end of the second round of foosball and says, "Hey, you ready to call it a night?" and it's just the two of them taking a cab home.
*
After a while, Jensen's out of clean clothes. He'd do some laundry but Jared's washing machine is brand new and insanely complicated-looking, so he starts stealing Jared's t-shirts instead. The guy's probably got a hundred of them, some so old that they can't have fit Jared since he was in elementary school.
Jensen takes shirts he vaguely recognizes from the first couple seasons of Supernatural, back before Jared really started to bulk up. They fit just about right. At the start he tries to steal them when Jared isn't around, but then he gives up and starts heading for Jared's dresser first thing in the morning-it's easier. Jared puts up a token protest for a couple of days, but he doesn't really care, so Jensen makes it his goal to find the worst shirts in Jared's collection and wear them at all times.
"I didn't know you liked Fall Out Boy," Jensen says, holding up a shirt that's got a massive picture of Pete Wentz's face on it. It's one of the biggest shirts in the drawer; Jared must have bought it recently.
"Sandy dragged me to a concert last summer," Jared says.
"And you got a t-shirt?" Jensen says dubiously. An awful thought occurs to him, and he takes a closer look at the shirt. "You don't seriously think that Pete Wentz is-"
"I like their music," Jared says, sounding just about as horrified as Jensen feels. "That doesn't mean I want to-I can't even say it."
"Is it the eyeliner?" Jensen asks, shrugging the shirt on. It's kind of creepy to look down and see Pete Wentz on his chest.
"It's the not-showering-ever," Jared says. "And the ugliness. But mostly just the lice."
"You got any clean shorts?" Jensen asks. "I think Sadie puked on my jeans."
"Bottom drawer, on the left. You seriously think I would want to sleep with Pete Wentz?"
"There's no telling with you," Jensen says.
Jensen catches Jared wearing a pair of his boxers a couple days later. He lets it slide.
*
Around the middle of Jensen's second week in Texas, Megan starts coming over and playing video games with them. Her game system skills haven't really progressed past Super Nintendo, but she kicks Jared's ass at Mario.
"Aren't you supposed to have a job?" Jared grumbles when Megan beats him for the eighth time in a row.
"I'm living off your spoils," Megan says. She clicks through the game-over screen into a new game. "Jensen, you want a turn?"
"Nah, I want to watch Jared try to redeem himself. Again." Jensen's comfortable anyway, sprawled out on the couch with a beer in his hand and watching Jared and Megan on the floor, hunched up close to the screen.
"Good luck with that," Megan says.
"Your cockiness is going to be your downfall," Jared tells her, his voice deep and ominous.
"Okay, Zoltar," Megan says. "So hey, speaking of your spoils, when are you going to plan this party of yours?"
"What do you mean, plan?" Jared says. "I've already got a plan."
"Oh yeah?" Megan says, turning to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Yup," Jared says, beating her while she isn't looking. "Ha! Victory is mine."
"Your ass is going to be mine in a minute," she says, tackling him. Jared hits the floor hard, laughing, controller still in hand, while Megan tries to punch him in the stomach. Jared gets her in a headlock within thirty seconds, her legs flailing out as she tries to call a foul.
"Hey Jensen, tell Megan she should quit now if she knows what's good for her," Jared says, giving her a noogie.
"Fight to the death, Megan," Jensen says, grinning as she slips Jared's arms and gets in a couple good hits before they both fall over laughing. Jared catches Jensen's eye from the floor and grins at him, and the three beers in Jensen's stomach hit all of a sudden, make everything warmer and bright.
*
part two