A Certain Smile - Part 4/7
A Certain Smile - Part 4/7
“Figured you might want your wheels back.” Jensen states, dangling the keys between two fingers for a moment before palming them. He tosses them to Jared as Jared slowly walks down his front steps and stops at the top of the driveway. Jared’s hair is messy and his feet are bare; he’s dressed for the weekend, pair of blue jeans and a loose plaid shirt, untucked and rumpled. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, dark circles under his eyes and his face pale. Jensen still wants to touch him.
The space between them seems bigger than the Grand Canyon.
Jared eyes Jensen warily. Jensen waits for him to speak but Jared only shifts back and forth on his feet, hands in his back pockets, awkward and silent and staring at some point off in the distance. Jensen coughs once into his fist and then jerks a thumb toward the street.
“I’ll just go then.”
Jensen’s halfway to the street when Jared finds his voice.
“Wait, Jensen.” Jared stops a few feet short of where Jensen stands and puts his hand on the roof of his car. “I…let me drive you home. It’s the least I could do.”
“I’m fine with walkin’.”
“Please?”
Jared nods toward the car and he looks so sad and apologetic that Jensen can’t help but assent.
“Thanks.” Jared says as Jensen goes around to the passenger’s side. “Let me just grab my shoes, I’ll be right back.” Jared jogs over the front lawn and ducks inside, emerging again almost immediately with his shoes and coat in hand. There is barking and scrambling from inside and Jared has to hold his pets back as he tries to get the front door shut. Then he hops and stumbles his way back to the car, putting one shoe on and then the other.
“Spaz,” Jensen taunts as easily as he can and Jared grins sheepishly.
“It’s shocking that I manage to play sports, isn’t it,” he replies a bit awkwardly, popping the driver’s side door and climbing in. Jensen opens the passenger side and follows suit.
“Downright amazing.”
Jared puts the keys into the ignition but leaves his hand resting there, not turning the car on. The unsettling tension is right back between them, begging to be acknowledged. Jared inhales deeply.
“I’m…I’m sorry about last night.”
“Which part?” Jensen leans an elbow on the door and rubs the back of his head, offering Jared nothing more than a curious look. Deep down he knows that it’s hopeless - he’ll forgive Jared anything - but he has some semblance of dignity left.
“The part where I flipped and left you there.”
“Oh, that part.” Jensen smirks and continues sarcastically. “That part was definitely the highlight of my evening.”
“I know…” Jared sighs. “I really am sorry. I didn’t expect… I never expected that you felt that way. Especially not after Danneel.”
“I’m really confused here, Jared.”
“So it was a good thing we stopped-“
“No, I’m not confused about me, I’m confused about you - I honestly have no idea if you want this or not.” Jensen interrupts.
“I do want it, Jen,” Jared runs both his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands. He leaves his fingers interlaced behind his neck as he sighs heavily. “I just don’t want to want it.”
Jensen’s hand is on the door latch and Jared reaches over, grabs his arm.
“How is this so easy for you? A month ago we barely even knew each other.”
Jensen lets Jared’s question hang there for a little while. Neither of them moves and he watches uncertainty flickering over Jared’s face, tiny twitches of it here and there. He knows his own face is hard as stone and he can tell Jared is searching for some sign, some clue.
“I want what I want, Jared. Am I terrified of this, whatever this is? You bet. But life’s too short.” Jensen stares Jared down. “I’m not going to force you into this. You shoot me down, I’ll stay down. I’m no Milo.”
“I think that’s the problem,” Jared mumbles, looking out the front window with a short laugh. Jensen goes for the door again, disgruntled and hurt. He’s had enough of this. Jared keeps speaking though, surprising him with his next words. “You’re so much more than that.”
Jensen sinks back into his seat, lets the door fall closed. The back and forth of his emotions is dizzying. One second he wants to yell at Jared and run away and the next he can’t imagine ever leaving. Jared glances at him now and he looks so small and scared, all Jensen wants to do is hug him.
“You already mean more to me than he ever did and I don’t know what to do.”
Jensen doesn’t know what to do either. He has even less experience in this than Jared does.
“Come to the movies with me.”
“What?” Jared practically does a spit take.
“I mean it. Let’s go see a flick.”
“Like the drive-in?”
Jensen can see it now - steamy windows, all over Jared in the backseat, Chad and all his buddies coming to knock on the windows, Genevieve wondering why her boyfriend’s in the passion pit playing backseat bingo with someone else. Fantastic idea.
“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is up at the Riviera, next town over. Let’s go. Right now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Now.” Jensen nods seriously. Jared stares at him like he thinks Jensen’s insane. “You don’t want to?”
“No, I want to,” Jared replies, sounding surprised at his own answer. “Okay. So let’s go.”
“Good.” Jensen grins and slaps the dashboard. “Punch it. We can make the matinee.”
Jared grins widely and starts the car. Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Breathless” bursts from the radio. As Jared backs out of the driveway, he throws his arm over the back of Jensen’s seat and looks over his shoulder. Jensen wants him to leave it there, nice and easy and lax, so close. When Jared puts both his hands back on the wheel, he’s actually disappointed.
“So where’d you tell your dad the car was?” Jensen asks as he feels both pockets of his jacket for his sunglasses.
“I told him I got a flat and you took it to Jim’s, that I’d pick it up later today.”
“Look at you, you smoothie.” Jensen clicks his tongue in approval and slips his shades on. “You know, you’re damn lucky I’m an honest guy, Jay. I could be in Mexico by now, selling your car for scrap.”
“Guess I trust you.”
“Guess you do.”
When Jensen claps his hand over Jared’s knee, Jared doesn’t push him away. He leaves it there the whole ride to the theater.
*******
Jared can’t pay attention to a single thing that Miss Gamble is saying. She’s going on about sexuality and incest in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and the rest of the class is divided between being enthralled and shocked. Jared’s never had a teacher - especially a female one - with such fascination for sex and violence. Chad once said that he thinks she spends her weekends trying to think of ways to rile the PTA. Her attempt to add Lolita and Catcher in the Rye to their required reading list almost got her fired last year.
Usually, he loves being in her class.
But today Miss Gamble could be talking using only four letter words and Jared wouldn’t notice.
He stares out the window, his mind back on Saturday afternoon, his thoughts lingering in the warmth and darkness of that movie theater.
The show had been mostly empty and they’d gone up to the balcony alone. The light from the projector cast a flickering white glow across Jensen’s face as he’d leaned in and kissed him even before the newsreels ended and the film began.
It had been exhilarating. His relations with Milo had been sequestered to their bedrooms, the garage, the occasional stolen moment in the car. Everything about it had made him feel ashamed, scared and hiding like a common criminal.
Making out in the empty balcony of a movie theater hardly qualified as public, but it still felt different enough to be important. Maybe it was in the way Jensen touched him so confidently, so sure of what he wanted and not loathing himself for it, or maybe it was simply the fact that Jared had chosen this rather than falling into it sideways, but everything with Jensen seemed better.
He is still confused, but not over how he feels. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do or where he’s going to go from here, but there’s no doubt over the fact that he wants Jensen.
Wants him as in he wants to tear Jensen’s clothes off, hold him down and do things to him that would shock and offend even the progressive Miss Gamble. He’s real gone.
Jared shifts in the uncomfortable metal chair, his knee hitting the basket underneath his desk. He’s growing embarrassingly hard and he tries to focus on absolutely anything else. He stares at the picture of President Eisenhower plastered to the wall by the flag, thinking that that should do it.
It doesn’t. All it does is make him think about things like war and then he starts thinking of Jensen in military uniform and it’s all down hill from there.
He should concentrate. He needs to concentrate. He can’t explain away a B instead of an A by telling his parents that he was too busy daydreaming about Jensen’s freckled skin to pay attention to classic literature.
A note lands on the center of his desk with practiced ease, startling Jared from his indecent thoughts.
He glances around guiltily and brings the paper down into his lap as he unfolds it carefully, trying not to rustle.
You’re acting like a fidgety freak. What’s shakin’? is written in Chad’s messy scrawl. Jared’s face grows hot and his shirt collar feels tight. He shields the note from sight with his arm and jots down a quick reply.
Sugar high. CANNOT SIT STILL! Told you those Zotz were a terrible idea.
He has just tossed the note back to Chad when Jensen strolls into the classroom without knocking, carrying a pink slip of paper in his hand. He interrupts Miss Gamble mid-sentence and hands the note to her.
And then she’s looking up at Jared, waving for him to come forward.
“Mr. Padalecki, the principal needs to see you in his office. You may be excused.”
Jensen isn’t looking at him but Jared can see the corners of his mouth ticking upward like he’s trying desperately hard not to smile. Jared fumbles with his books and stands, trying to cover the tent in his trousers with his notebook.
He trips a little over his own two feet on his way to the front of the room. Miss Gamble hands him the note with a small smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing bad.” She assures him. “Make sure to see a classmate about your assignment some time today if Principal Kripke keeps you until the end of the period.”
“Of course,” Jared nods and follows Jensen into the hallway. Chad is tracking him, eyes narrowed, and Jared walks faster.
“You’re lucky you have Miss Gamble for English,” Jensen comments when they’re a safe distance from the classroom. “I have Mr. Edlund and that guy is twisted. Hilarious, but twisted. We’re reading the weirdest stuff.”
“Jensen, what are you doing?” Jared whispers, catching up to him. “Where are we going?” Jensen grins.
“In here,” Jensen looks both ways, making sure the hallway is clear, and then pulls Jared into the custodial closet. Jared grunts when his body surprisingly collides with the back of the door, Jensen on him as soon as the latch catches. He doesn’t even bother to turn on the closet light.
“Jensen!”
Jensen’s kissing him, hands on his waist, and Jared doesn’t want to stop him but -
“Jen, I have class, we’re in school, we can’t…oh, nggghh.” He stops scrambling and pushing away Jensen’s touch and instead gives into it. “That feels…good, oh god.”
“That’s more like it,” Jensen murmurs in his ear, kissing his jaw. Jared knows he should be more concerned with the fact he just skipped out of class for the first time in his life, but he can’t bring himself to care. He turns and shoves Jensen, pinning him to the spot where he’d just been.
“You’re a bad influence, Jen.” He nips at Jensen’s bottom lip, cradling Jensen’s face in his hands.
Jensen laughs.
“I’m a bad influence? Jay, you made me gay.” He jokes and ropes his fingers in Jared’s hair, opens his mouth to another kiss, and swallows Jared’s laugh.
Outside the door, the bell rings for a bomb drill, sounding out a shrill warning. They both ignore it.
*******
“You know, this isn’t half bad,” Jensen comments, setting Jared’s rough draft of his English midterm paper aside.
“Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking I get straight-As only because teachers like me,” Jared replies, affronted but laughing just the same. Jensen kicks his heels up on Jared’s desk, jostling some of his trophies on the shelves above as the desk moves.
“You’re far too happy and well adjusted to have jets too, is all I’m saying. Truly smart people are always truly miserable.” He leans back in Jared’s chair, folding his arms behind his head. Jared looks up at him from where he lies on the floor next to Sadie, the smaller of his two dogs.
“And why’s that?”
“Because smart people are cynical by nature. They see everything underneath the surface, they know all the bad things that go on in the world.”
Jared doesn’t necessarily believe that that’s true. Ignorance may be bliss, but that doesn’t mean that knowing equals unhappiness.
“It’s like Adam and Eve, right? They eat from the Tree of Knowledge and things aren’t so great in the Garden of Eden anymore,” Jensen continues.
Jared sits up and Sadie makes a noise of displeasure, having been perfectly comfortable resting her head on Jared’s stomach. Jared rubs her behind the left ear like she likes and tosses one of her toys out into the hallway. She scrambles to chase it but doesn’t return as her idea of fetch is a bit confused.
“So I take it that you, in all your bitterness and experience, must be a genius,” Jared replies and Jensen nods.
“Well of course.” Jensen laughs and drops his feet back to the ground, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “And you, the universally beloved Jared Padalecki, with the sports awards and the millions of friends and the impossible charm and crazy amounts of energy, you, simply have no right to be intelligent too. You’re so on the stick, it’s inhuman.”
“Really,” Jared smirks, amused at Jensen’s tirade.
“Totally unfair.”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
Jensen shrugs and leans down even more; Jared moves closer, tilting his face upward.
“Guess I’m gonna have to kiss you stupid.”
“Good solution.”
Jensen brushes his lips over Jared’s softly, slowly dropping to his knees on the floor in front of him. Jared lets Jensen work his mouth open a little bit at a time, each kiss going a little deeper, gaining in intensity. Jensen’s hands find Jared’s face; Jared’s hands find Jensen’s shoulders.
Jensen is pressing him backward, his full weight urging Jared to the floor, when the front door slams and there are energetic footsteps bounding up the stairs.
They jump away from each other quickly and Jensen nearly misses the chair when he tries to reclaim his seat. Jared pulls his backpack onto his lap and pretends to be digging through it.
“Hi, big bro.” Megan appears in his doorway momentarily, both Sadie and Harley happily at her heels. Her smile falters a little then comes back stronger, but tighter. “Hello, Jensen.”
“Hello, Megan.” Jensen nods politely and Jared is torn between smirking and smiling, both amused and touched by Jensen trying to play nice. “How are you today?”
“I’m going to try out for cheerleading next year, I’ve decided.” Megan pronounces. Jared gets the feeling that she’s flaunting her conformity in front of Jensen’s face like a badge of honor. “Gen says that I’d definitely make the squad.”
“Good for you,” Jensen comments with a smile and Megan looks disappointed. “Though I thought Genevieve was on the soccer team?”
“Yes, but I don’t like soccer. And she’s on the squad for the winter season - she says cheerleading’s just as athletic.”
“Well if Genevieve says so, she must be right. Good luck, little ‘lecki.” Jensen replies gamely. Megan eyes him, not all together sure if he’s mocking her or not.
“Thank you,” she finally says and turns her attention to Jared. “Mom says dinner is at six o’clock and that Jensen is invited to stay if he’d like to. We’re having that new Rice-a-Roni stuff.”
“Your mom is way too nice,” Jensen comments as Megan leaves. “Doesn’t she realize I’m a hoodlum?” Jensen turns on Jared’s record player, taking off the Monotones vinyl that’s spinning in silence and dropping the needle on the Kalin Twins’ latest single. He sticks his tongue out at Jared and wiggles it lasciviously.
“I think she actually likes your leather jacket,” Jared replies with a smile. “It’s kind of impossible to rebel against someone who refuses to judge.”
“Now I know why you’ve always been such a square.” Jensen kicks Jared’s foot and pulls a tattered paperback out of his back pocket. The cover is torn and the pages are crinkled with water damage. Jensen stretches out on Jared’s bed and rolls on his side, flipping the book open.
Jared studies him for a moment as Jensen gets comfortable, squirming around on his mattress. With his gaze downturned to read his dark lashes flutter against his cheeks and he looks practically perfect.
“What book is that?”
Jensen holds it up, showing him the cover.
“Play. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”
“Isn’t that the movie that we didn’t watch?” Jared grins and climbs up from the floor. He grins slyly and pushes his bedroom door closed, locking it, before crossing to the bed. Jensen rolls onto his back easily, letting Jared climb on top of him and straddle his waist. Jared reaches for the book and Jensen allows him to take it. Jared flips through its pages, taking in the notes in the margins, the stains, the rips. “Exactly how many times have you read this thing?”
“Too many.”
“It’s really that good?”
“No. Well, yeah. But I’ve been re-reading it because I want to use it for my audition when I get to New York.”
“Really?” Jared smiles excitedly and he sits up higher on Jensen’s lap, looking at the text with renewed interest. “What part?”
“Brick.” Jensen replies like it was the only answer. Jared knows he should know who “Brick” is, but honestly all he remembers from the film is the sound of the closing credits before the lights came up. Jensen rolls his eyes. “Paul Newman in the movie.”
“Ah, Paul Newman huh?” Jared teases, smiling slyly. “Not Brando, not James Dean.” He pauses, considering. “Hmm, how about that.”
“Ben Gazzara played the role on Broadway,” Jensen informs him pointedly. “My dad saw the play when it first opened few years back, he said it was amazing.”
“And someday that’ll be you up there, being amazing.” Jared replies and Jensen ducks his head to hide his blush. Jared flops over on the bed next to him, body beside Jensen’s now with their arms touching. “Let’s do some.”
“You mean, read it?”
“Yeah. You read for Brick and I’ll read for…” Jared scans the pages. “Big Daddy.”
“I can’t begin to explain how wrong that is.”
Jared hands Jensen back his book, thumping it against Jensen’s chest.
“Find a good scene to do.”
Reluctantly, Jensen sits up and leans against Jared’s headboard.
“You know, I didn’t think the first thing that we’d do in bed together would be reading Tennessee Williams.”
“Yet somehow it’s oddly fitting,” Jared grins and leans close to Jensen, peering over his shoulder at the dialogue.
“Let’s start here.” Jensen points to the top of the right hand page and clears his throat. He hesitates and Jared nudges him.
“I’m not gonna laugh,” Jared assures him and Jensen scowls.
“You won’t want to.” He retorts and coughs again. “I’m ashamed, Big Daddy. That’s why I’m a drunk. When I’m drunk, I can stand myself.”
“I see this is nice and light,” Jared remarks and puts his finger to his first line, jumping in. And Jensen was right; Jared’s not laughing by the time they finish the scene. In fact, his frown only grows deeper with every line he speaks.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, looking away from the play. He takes the book from Jensen’s hand and flaps it shut, tosses it down to the end of the bed like a poisonous object. Jensen lets him do it; he just keeps his eyes focused on Jared’s face until Jared feels uncomfortable.
“You’re really kinda okay at that, you know,” Jensen comments when Jared starts to bristle at his stare. Jared looks at him, frown wobbling in confusion, his forehead creasing.
“What?”
“The acting. That wasn’t bad, for a cold read.” Jensen inches down the bed and picks up the paperback again. Jared realizes it’s supposed to be a compliment, or at least that Jensen honestly means it as one, so he tries to disregard the note of surprise in Jensen’s voice. Jensen’s attempting to be appraising, not condescending. “Now I know I got someone to run lines with.” He taps Jared on the shoulder with the book and smiles. Jared sighs and leans back against the headboard.
The play’s words linger in his mind, leaving him unsettled. He doesn’t really care if Jensen thinks he’s competent at reading lines off a page; what he cares about is why Jensen finds this particular play so enthralling.
“That’s depressing. You really like that?”
“Yeah, I know, Big Daddy’s kind of an ass,” Jensen shrugs off Jared’s words.
“Not even thinking about Big Daddy.”
“What were you thinking then?”
“Thinking maybe I should play Brick,” Jared snorts, disgruntled.
“Why’s that?” Jensen seems bewildered by Jared’s assertion and Jared can’t really buy that Jensen doesn’t see it, doesn’t get it. He’s a good actor, but he’s not that good.
“Come on - ‘Heroes in the real world live twenty-four hours a day, not just two hours a game’?” Jared shakes his head. “’Life ain’t no damn football game. Life ain’t just a buncha high spots’?” Jared takes the book from Jensen’s loose grip and closes it again. Jensen scoffs loudly, finding Jared’s concern ludicrous.
“Jared, Brick’s a self-loathing washed-up drunk who’s stuck in the past. He’s miserable.”
“Because his perfect bubble burst,” Jared points out, voice a little louder, more insistent.
“You’re not in a perfect bubble,” Jensen counters. “What I was saying before…I didn’t mean it like that. You get that right?” He takes the book from Jared’s hands and tosses it aside. “I’m not reading this ‘cause of you. This isn’t about you.”
“I know that, I just…” Jared lies down flat on the bed again and rolls on his side, like a small child turning away from what they don’t want to face. Jensen shifts down too, his body stretched alongside Jared’s. He sets a hand on Jared’s hip and gently moves Jared onto his back. Then his hand comes to rest on Jared’s chest, a silent reassurance that’s it’s okay to tell him what’s really the matter. Jared sighs deeply and looks up into Jensen’s green eyes, knowing he’s waiting, expectant. “I worry sometimes.”
“About what?”
“I need to call things off with Genevieve.” Jared says by way of some kind of answer. Jensen’s hand tenses for a moment against his chest and then relaxes. “I’ve barely seen her in three weeks and I haven’t wanted to. This isn’t fair to her. She deserves so much better.”
“What are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell her the truth - that would be a disaster. But I can’t keep dating her just because it’s easier. It’s thoughtless and it’s selfish and it’s not at all who I want to be.”
Jensen looks down at him thoughtfully; Jared can see the wheels turning in his head. He doesn’t say anything and Jared is suddenly hit with a wave of self-doubt.
“What about you and Danneel?”
“Danneel?” Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Jay, Danneel and I…we haven’t even spoken since that night at Sam’s. I thought you knew that.”
“What?” Jared starts to sit up but Jensen pushes him back down.
“She thought I was using you to social climb, so that I could be her ‘real’ boyfriend. Since my only appeal for her was that I was the wrong kind of guy, she lost interest. No skin off my nose.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, really.” Jensen rolls on top of Jared, making a show of settling down against him, rubbing all over him. “I’m pretty happy here.”
“Hmm.” Jared murmurs, bringing his arms around Jensen’s back. They kiss long enough to lose track of time; Jared’s lips feel swollen and used by the time Jensen lets his mouth drift, finding his neck, running down to his collarbone.
“Kane says there are clubs in L.A. just for guys like us. We should go.” Jensen speaks against his skin, tugging Jared’s collar out of the way to kiss the skin there.
“To L.A.?” Jared is having a hard time focusing, realizing a moment after that there is reason for alarm. He tenses, trying to sit up. “And wait, Chris knows-“
“No, it’s just something he mentioned awhile back. Apparently he stumbled into one by accident, or so he says.” Jensen chuckles. “I think he got a drink out of it.” Jensen rolls his hips toward Jared’s, pleased when Jared’s body starts to relax again. “So do you want to go?”
“To a club for…queers?”
“Think about it. No one will know us, no one will care.” Jared grunts and spread his legs wider as Jensen whispers his promises directly against his lips, words brushing feather light and warm. “I could kiss you…right where everyone can see…”
“Jen…” Jared tugs on the back of Jensen’s thin tee shirt, fingers sliding over skin and dipping below Jensen's belt line, intimately brushing the top curve of his ass.
Jensen pushes Jared into the bed, slotting their bodies together and rocking hard. It’s been a month since their first kiss and they’ve come close to this a few times, but one of them always pulls back and calms down before things go too far.
Jared doesn’t want to stop. Too far isn’t the place he wants to briefly go anymore; it’s the place he wants to live.
Jensen must be of the same mind. He pulls back and rucks up Jared’s shirt and unzips his pants, not hesitating to ask permission. He’s slightly frantic, eyes wild and breathing heavy. Jared’s quick to catch up, hands fumbling as he yanks down the zipper on Jensen’s jeans.
Jensen’s hard and hot in the cup of his palm, bulging from between the open vee of his denims and straining against the thin cotton of his underwear. Jensen groans in relief and collapses back on top of Jared.
They rut against one another shamelessly and it’s over in mere seconds like they’re both thirteen again and touching themselves for the first time. They’re too impatient for anything else. Jared feels a hint of embarrassment as his underwear is soaked warm and sticky, but then Jensen groans and shudders above him and he’s wet too. Jared can feel it on his thigh, seeping into the fabric there.
“L.A.’s a great idea.” Jared gasps out as the aftershocks roll through him, sending shivers up his spine. Jensen kisses him, sated and sloppy, tongue tangling with his. They both groan together, tasting each other’s breath, as Jensen rolls his hips one last time.
“We’re definitely going.”
They lie there in a tangled heap until his mother calls them downstairs. Jared loans Jensen a clean pair of underwear and then tries and fails in not thinking about that fact all throughout dinner.
*******
The gymnasium is glaringly loud. Jensen had entirely forgotten the pandemonium of game night. He hasn’t been to one since ninth grade, back when he’d still thought organized sports and school spirit were great things. Back when Tom and Mike were his best friends and he was dating this too-sweet girl named Tania and everything was simple and boring.
There are plenty of other things for people to be looking at, but Jensen swears that his entrance draws suspicious stares and questioning glances from each and every single person he passes by as he climbs the bleachers.
“You’d think we were movie stars,” he mutters over his shoulder to Chris.
“They’re just looking because we’re so beautiful,” Katie replies instead, overhearing. “Wouldn’t you be jealous?”
“Damn straight,” Chris agrees and slings his arm over Katie’s shoulders.
“Either that or they’re expecting us to burst into flame for walking over this holy ground,” Jensen retorts. There are a couple of guys with thick glasses and sweater vests sitting on the top bleacher and they cower and shift down the bench when they see Jensen and Chris coming.
Jensen always finds that reaction amusing. He’s never been in so much as a fistfight at school and the worst Chris does is mouth off at the jocks. Yet people assume they’re nothing but trouble.
Not that he minds.
Misha Collins walks up to them as they settle in their seats and he sits down beside Jensen, curious look on his face. The nerds a few feet down are watching him with great admiration, as if Misha is an ambassador taking on a dangerous peace mission into hostile territory.
He doesn’t say anything at first.
“Yeah?” Jensen prompts him and Misha smiles.
“Oh, I’m just here because Kristen demanded it,” Misha waves him off, laughing. “She thinks that you folks showing up at a school event is a harbinger of the apocalypse and sent me over to ask you why you’re here.”
“See - celebrities,” Katie jokes, preening.
“So this is you, getting the story.” Jensen states skeptically.
“Oh, only in high school would this be of any importance to anyone. I came over because it was more appealing than being pestered by Kristen.” Misha pulls a small notebook out of his pocket, scraps of paper sticking out of it every which way and the cover hidden behind swaths of stickers and drawings, many in different languages. “So I’m going to sit here awhile and work on some of my own stuff and pretend to be interested in what you all are discussing, if that’s all right with you.”
“Cool by me.” Jensen glances down at what Misha’s writing, which appears to be poetry of some kind, and then he turns his attention to the court. It’s easy to find Jared; his senses are trained like a heat-seeking missile to search out Jared’s familiar face and body in any crowd.
Jared’s a lot more intense than he is during gym class, laser-like focus on the game he’s playing. His uniform, red and white, is loose and light on his body though Jensen has to admit that even Jared can’t make those white knee socks look good. He’s glistening with sweat, hair damp, and his jersey clings to the center of his back between his shoulder blades.
The whistle blows to mark the end of the first quarter and Jared jogs over to the bench. From the high fives and back slaps that his teammates are giving him, it’s probably safe to assume that at least part of the lead posted on the scoreboard is Jared’s doing. Jared sits down, white towel slung around his neck, and takes a long drink from his water bottle.
Jensen mentally wills Jared to turn around, look up, and see him. It’d been embarrassing enough to come here; he can’t work up the nerve to go down there and purposely get Jared’s attention. That’s a little too desperate.
Oddly, it’s Chad who notices him first and elbows Jared, pointing.
Jared smiles wide and waves happily, not caring how dorky he looks. It makes Jensen feel bad, at the very least, for not shouting hello first.
Coach Bollo snaps his fingers in front of Jared’s face to get his attention and Jensen feels worse for getting him in trouble. When Jared turns back into the huddle, Chad doesn’t. His glare is hard and remains on Jensen like it’s supposed to be a warning.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself an enemy, Jenny,” Chris comments and Jensen rolls his eyes.
“Like I’m worried about Chad Murray.”
“No, I meant her.” Chris points down to where Genevieve stands on the sidelines, pom-poms at her hips and a hateful look on her face. “That’s a Medusa stare right there.”
“I’d guess that’s actually for Katie.” Jensen leans forward and reaches over, taps Katie on the knee. “Hey - Gen giving you a hard time since the big B?”
“The break-up of the century? Yeah. How is that my fault?” Katie squawks, annoyed. “You’re the one hanging out with Jared all the time. Why is no one writing slut on your locker?”
“Because you’re fast. And Jen’s a guy. ‘Slut’ wouldn’t really work,” Chris explains flatly and Katie pouts. “She’s not gonna blame Jensen, even if he is suddenly Padalecki’s bestest, bestest friend.” Chris clutches his heart like it’s all too much and Jensen snorts, brushing him off.
“Well she better watch it, is all I’m saying. I can only take so much.”
“If there’s a cat fight, let me know so I can be there.”
Katie slaps Chris on the arm and he nicely pretends that it actually hurts.
“Is that why you’re here?” Misha suddenly asks, not looking up from his writing, and Jensen starts. He’d forgotten the guy was even there. “Supporting Jared?”
Jensen avoids Misha’s question by turning it around.
“You’re friends with Jared, right? You’re in chess club together.”
“That’s right.”
“He any good? At chess I mean?” Jensen doesn’t really know why he asks, but it kind of bothers him that there are sides of Jared he has yet to see, sides that other people already know.
“Jared is, uh, mostly good at mostly everything.”
“Mostly?”
Misha smiles a little and finally looks up at Jensen, pausing in his poetry.
“We had woodworking together last year and I think it’s in everyone’s best interest for Jared to never touch any kind of saw ever again.”
Jensen considers that and he can only imagine what trouble Jared got into. He’s seen Jared stub enough toes and trip over enough stairs to know Misha's exactly right. He’s easily distracted when he’s not giving something his all and that, combined with sharp, fast-moving blades, leaves Jensen surprised that Jared still has possession of all his fingers.
The referee’s whistle blows again and both teams take their places on the floor. Jensen abandons their conversation and faces forward, clapping his hands. He yells something generic that sounds wrong coming from him, and both Katie and Chris laugh at his expense.
“Shut up,” he snipes over the roar of the crowd at the jump ball and leans forward, elbows on knees. Jared successfully gains the ball for his team and Tom takes it up the court.
“Are you a basketball fan, Jensen?” Misha asks, pencil moving on paper again.
“I was, once upon a time.”
“And now you are again?”
“I don’t know, maybe. One game can’t hurt.”
“How did you and Jared become friends?”
Jensen turns away from the game; Misha is looking at him, deep blue eyes serene and perfectly innocent.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m curious by nature.” Misha sets his notebook down in his lap. “As soon as I graduate, I plan on taking off, seeing the world, though apparently Cuba might not be an option. Which is mildly annoying. With Russia and China already off limits…” He sighs, frustrated, and then apparently realizes he’s gone off on a tangent all on his own. “There’s too much I don’t know - too much that nobody knows. Aren’t you curious?”
“Probably about different things,” Jensen replies. Misha picks up his paper again and his pencil moves differently now, like he’s sketching rather than writing.
“I only asked the question because I find it interesting that halfway through senior year, two people such as yourselves finally get to know each other. Why now, after being in the same halls, the same classes, for almost four years?” Misha shrugs, glancing toward the game, pencil scratching paper. “You don’t have to answer. It merely seemed to me an anthropological anomaly.”
“You’re…a real odd ball, Misha.”
“You say odd, I say unique,” Misha tosses back lightheartedly, still drawing.
Jared’s fighting his way toward the basket now, two men guarding him. Only the second quarter and the other team are already desperate, singling out Jared for special attention. Jensen’s a little proud.
Then someone throws an elbow high, hard, purposeful, and Jared does down too fast, blood pouring from his nose. His head hits the court with a thud that Jensen swears is so loud he can hear it.
“Shit!” Jensen jumps up, concerned. It’s an automatic response; he’s ready to run down there in an instant. Jared’s not moving. Everyone stops, the crowd going from exuberant to deathly still, everyone simultaneously holding their breath.
Coach Bollo and Assistant Coach Allen bend down over Jared’s prone form. Chad and Tom and Mike hang around closely rather than taking a knee, knowing they’re not allowed near him but wanting to know if he’s okay. Genevieve drops her pom-poms and she’s hovering right beside Chad. He clutches her arm, holding her back.
Much like Misha is doing to him right now to keep Jensen from going.
It’s incredibly unfair that Genevieve, who’s not even Jared’s girlfriend anymore, gets to be there while he has to sit here and wait for some sign of movement - slide of an arm, twitch of a foot - to know Jared’s okay.
“Is he all right?” Katie whispers to him, standing on tiptoe and trying to see. Jensen’s heart is pounding, worried that Jared’s been knocked unconscious. The sound of his head hitting the hardwood when he fell still echoes in Jensen’s mind, even louder now.
Then Jared’s sitting up, however slowly, and the crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief. Home and visiting teams and fans alike clap as the coach helps a woozy and disoriented Jared to his feet, holding a towel to his face. Jared’s clutching the back of his head and his legs are shaky, but he seems to be growing less dazed every step he takes. The trainer is handing him ice and keeping a steadying hand on Jared’s shoulder as they lead him to sit down.
Jared pulls away the towel, tilting his head back to allow them a look. The front of his jersey is stained with blood, his mouth and chin smeared with it. There are a few words exchanged and the coach nods. Then Jared’s back on his feet and they’re leading him to the locker room.
There’s more clapping but Jensen is too distracted to participate.
“Head injuries are a mandatory hospital visit,” Misha is saying, though it takes a second for the information to sink in with Jensen. “A kid died in Sacramento last year after an unattended concussion so now they’re being exceptionally cautious.”
Jensen glares at him.
“Not making you feel any better. Sorry.” Misha rips out a page and then closes the cover of his notebook. He puts his pencil through the spiral binding. "Do you want a ride to County General? That’s where they’ll take him. I have a scooter.”
Jared’s parents are shuffling their way free of the bleachers and making their way to the exit, Gerry stern and Sherri pale with worry. They pause at the door and Jensen realizes that they were waiting for Genevieve when she joins them a moment later. Sherri puts her arm around Genevieve’s shoulders comfortingly.
Jensen slumps back against the wall.
The game starts back up as if nothing has happened; the crowd back in it immediately. Jensen remembers exactly why he hated all of these people for so long.
“This stinks. Let’s split,” Jensen half-shouts to Chris and Katie. “I need a drink.”
“That’s more like it,” Chris claps his hands together. Jensen goes to stand when Misha holds out a piece of paper, folded in quarters. Jensen only half unfolds it, peeking inside. It’s a sketch of Jared.
“How did you know?” Jensen asks quietly; he’s amazed Misha even hears him. Misha holds his gaze meaningfully.
“I don’t.” He says, his lie careful and clear. Jensen clutches the drawing more tightly. Misha smiles kindly. “He’ll be fine.”
Jensen shoves the paper into the front pocket of his leather jacket.
“Thanks.”
*******
“So you are alive.” Jared is standing in his bedroom doorway, frown fixed on his face in a firm line. He steps inside and closes the door behind him.
Jensen grunts and rolls over onto his back, reluctantly meeting Jared’s flat stare. The sheets are twisted around his legs and he suspects the pillow might have conformed to the shape of his face. He hasn’t showered or shaved in a day or two, much less combed his hair or changed his pajamas. He must look wretched. There is the sound of static coming from his record player, the record spinning uselessly. He wonders if his Jimmie Rodgers is ruined now; it’s been on the turntable since the night before. He’d been playing it over and over until he fell asleep.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well you haven’t been in school, you haven’t returned my calls, so here I am. I’m fine, by the way.” Jared points to his head. His face is still slightly black and blue around his nose and eyes, but nothing appears to be broken. “They won’t let me play out the last of the season though. I’m benched for three months minimum, which means baseball’s out too. Which is kind of a big deal for me. Helluva way to start the new year.”
“’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles, closing his eyes.
“Yeah. You look sorry,” Jared mutters. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and leans back against the closed door. “You smell, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Jensen buries his face in his pillow, muffling his voice.
“I’m guessing you heard about the plane crash. Please don’t tell me that’s why you’re holed up here like Howard Hughes?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jensen lifts his head a little, confused.
“Buddy Holly.” Jared’s voice rings with disbelief. “The Big Bopper? Ritchie Valens?” Jensen has no idea where the hell Jared is going with this. “You really don’t know?”
“Clearly not.”
“How can you not…?” Jared is astounded. “They all died in a plane crash on Monday night. Katie’s been wearing black ever since.”
Any other time, Jensen might have cared. He would’ve been shocked. He would’ve called Steve and Chris and Katie and commiserated over a pint, playing music as loudly as they could just for the sake of playing it. But not now. Now, some rock ‘n’ roll stars he never even knew don’t really register.
He narrows his eyes at Jared. “Why are you even here? I know you didn’t come to give me a news bulletin. Shouldn’t you be off with Gen somewhere?”
“Gen and I broke up, Jensen. Two weeks ago.” Jared states. “And you know that we did. So if you have a problem with me, or you don’t want to see me anymore, don’t blame it on her. Just tell me.”
“She went to the hospital with you.”
“With my parents.” Jared corrects. “I didn’t ask her to. Why didn’t you come?”
“Christ, Jared.” Jensen pushes his eyes open and rises to his elbow. “What did you expect me to do? How was I supposed to explain being there?”
“Chad stopped by after the game was finished,” Jared retorts and Jensen flops back onto the bed, groaning in frustration. “My parents know you, they think we’re friends. It’s not like anyone would know, Jensen.”
“You’d be surprised.” Jensen covers his face with his hands and reminds himself to breathe.
“You didn’t even call to see how I was doing. What if I’d been really hurt?”
“Yeah, what if you had.” It doesn’t matter. Turned ankle or TB, Jensen will never be the one at Jared’s bedside holding his hand. He’ll never be the one Jared’s parents wait for at the door; he’ll be the one Jared’s parents will never know existed.
“Nice.” Jared snaps, taking Jensen’s bitter comment for cold indifference. Jensen shuts his eyes more tightly and lets Jared think what he wants to think. Paper rustles and then something falls onto his stomach. “There. That’s why I came. I thought you might want to know.”
Jared’s back is turned when Jensen opens up the folded flyer that had been dropped. The bold black block letters shout out from the bright yellow page. In two weeks’ time, drama club is hosting auditions for the spring production of Thornton Wilder’s The Matchmaker after school.
Jared is facing him again, arms crossed protectively over his chest. Jensen can only look at him, confused. Jared sighs and uncomfortably tries to explain.
“It didn’t look like you were in a big hurry to get back to school, and I didn’t want you to miss it.”
“Jared…” Jensen can’t even find the right words. Here he’s been, hiding in his room and feeling sorry for himself, shutting Jared out completely, and here Jared is, being impossibly kind and thoughtful when he doesn’t deserve it in the slightest.
“I was even thinking of trying out myself, because with baseball being out, I thought we could…” Jared stops. “It doesn’t matter. But you should do it.”
Jensen is still at a loss. Jared nods once, finished, and unfolds his arms.
“I’ll see you around, Jensen.”
“Jared, wait.” Jared does wait, but Jensen has nothing on hand to say. Jared looks at him expectantly and Jensen blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ll see you around? That’s your big parting shot?”
Jared’s brow furrows in confusion and annoyance. Jensen swings his legs off the side of the bed, sitting all the way up.
“You should’ve thrown a punch, thrown something.”
“You want me to do it again? Because right now I have no problem with that.” Jared replies angrily, nostrils flaring.
“What I meant is that I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you bringing me over audition flyers,” Jensen holds up the paper, “when I’m being a class-a jerk.”
Jensen sucks in a deep breath and stands, pushing the covers off. His whole body is stiff; he hasn’t gotten out of bed all day long. He wants to take Jared in his arms but he knows that’d be pushing his luck right now. If he looks at Jared, he won’t be able to stop himself so instead he opts for going to the window. Pulling back the curtains he finds the day bright and cheerful, mocking him the same as it has for days.
“I really hated not being able to go to you, Jay.” The words make him feel weak and he hates saying them out loud. “All I wanted to do was get to you and I couldn’t. I’m sorry…I just…I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You did it with Danneel. You kept that whole relationship a secret. It didn’t seem to bother you then.”
“Danneel was different.” Jensen stares at a pair of young kids riding bikes down the streets, streamers on the handlebars dancing in the wind. They’re beautifully simple and completely unaware of how much harder things get a little further down the road. He remembers when he felt that way. “I don’t like people prying into my life, Jay. I never wanted to be part of the gossip mill, didn’t want to get mixed up in all that stupid high school stuff. It’s nobody’s business who I’m with or what I’m doing. Dani wanted to keep it quiet, and I was just fine with that. It was my choice. I liked it that way.”
Jensen rubs his bottom lip and moves his feet wider apart, keeping himself steady. It’d been so easy to fall for Jared. So easy to forget the taboos he was breaking and to throw himself into it wholeheartedly. He hadn’t really realized then how it would be. Jared had known, and Jared had tried to run away. Jensen now understands why.
“But someone telling me who I can’t see? Who I can’t love? All I wanna do is be with you and I can’t.” Jensen turns his head slightly to the side and glances over, tears of frustration brimming in his eyes. “That’s not a secret I want to keep, Jay.”
“And you think I do?” Jared’s voice cracks and the look of pain on his face slices Jensen’s heart into pieces. “Jensen, it is killing me. I don’t keep things from people. I don’t have secrets. Until Milo, there wasn’t a single thing that I would’ve kept to myself. I used to get in trouble for saying too much. And now I’m lying to my parents, I’m lying to my friends, and I can’t stop. I can’t stop because if I stop, I lose this. I lose you.”
Jensen can’t look at him anymore. It hurts too much. He turns back to the window, eyes darting back and forth and trying to find something to focus on, something else besides the pain.
“Maybe we should stop.”
“What do you mean…”
“It’s never going to work out in the long run anyway. I’m going to New York, you’ll be in college god knows where. Time to get out while we’re ahead. No damage done.”
He expects Jared to protest; it’d be completely unlike him to just give in. Instead of a shout though, Jared’s arms are circling him, turning him around gently. Jared’s kiss is a surprise; soft, achingly tender. He holds Jensen like he’s fragile, already cracked.
“Yeah. No damage done,” Jared whispers brokenly, leaning his forehead against Jensen’s. Jensen reaches up and rests his hands on Jared’s wrists, needing to hold onto him somehow. They’re breathing in sync, heartbeats nearly the same. Jensen can feel his pulse.
“So what do we do?” Jensen asks, lost. “Break up?”
“Not that,” Jared responds firmly. “Definitely not that.”
NEXT
“Figured you might want your wheels back.” Jensen states, dangling the keys between two fingers for a moment before palming them. He tosses them to Jared as Jared slowly walks down his front steps and stops at the top of the driveway. Jared’s hair is messy and his feet are bare; he’s dressed for the weekend, pair of blue jeans and a loose plaid shirt, untucked and rumpled. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, dark circles under his eyes and his face pale. Jensen still wants to touch him.
The space between them seems bigger than the Grand Canyon.
Jared eyes Jensen warily. Jensen waits for him to speak but Jared only shifts back and forth on his feet, hands in his back pockets, awkward and silent and staring at some point off in the distance. Jensen coughs once into his fist and then jerks a thumb toward the street.
“I’ll just go then.”
Jensen’s halfway to the street when Jared finds his voice.
“Wait, Jensen.” Jared stops a few feet short of where Jensen stands and puts his hand on the roof of his car. “I…let me drive you home. It’s the least I could do.”
“I’m fine with walkin’.”
“Please?”
Jared nods toward the car and he looks so sad and apologetic that Jensen can’t help but assent.
“Thanks.” Jared says as Jensen goes around to the passenger’s side. “Let me just grab my shoes, I’ll be right back.” Jared jogs over the front lawn and ducks inside, emerging again almost immediately with his shoes and coat in hand. There is barking and scrambling from inside and Jared has to hold his pets back as he tries to get the front door shut. Then he hops and stumbles his way back to the car, putting one shoe on and then the other.
“Spaz,” Jensen taunts as easily as he can and Jared grins sheepishly.
“It’s shocking that I manage to play sports, isn’t it,” he replies a bit awkwardly, popping the driver’s side door and climbing in. Jensen opens the passenger side and follows suit.
“Downright amazing.”
Jared puts the keys into the ignition but leaves his hand resting there, not turning the car on. The unsettling tension is right back between them, begging to be acknowledged. Jared inhales deeply.
“I’m…I’m sorry about last night.”
“Which part?” Jensen leans an elbow on the door and rubs the back of his head, offering Jared nothing more than a curious look. Deep down he knows that it’s hopeless - he’ll forgive Jared anything - but he has some semblance of dignity left.
“The part where I flipped and left you there.”
“Oh, that part.” Jensen smirks and continues sarcastically. “That part was definitely the highlight of my evening.”
“I know…” Jared sighs. “I really am sorry. I didn’t expect… I never expected that you felt that way. Especially not after Danneel.”
“I’m really confused here, Jared.”
“So it was a good thing we stopped-“
“No, I’m not confused about me, I’m confused about you - I honestly have no idea if you want this or not.” Jensen interrupts.
“I do want it, Jen,” Jared runs both his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands. He leaves his fingers interlaced behind his neck as he sighs heavily. “I just don’t want to want it.”
Jensen’s hand is on the door latch and Jared reaches over, grabs his arm.
“How is this so easy for you? A month ago we barely even knew each other.”
Jensen lets Jared’s question hang there for a little while. Neither of them moves and he watches uncertainty flickering over Jared’s face, tiny twitches of it here and there. He knows his own face is hard as stone and he can tell Jared is searching for some sign, some clue.
“I want what I want, Jared. Am I terrified of this, whatever this is? You bet. But life’s too short.” Jensen stares Jared down. “I’m not going to force you into this. You shoot me down, I’ll stay down. I’m no Milo.”
“I think that’s the problem,” Jared mumbles, looking out the front window with a short laugh. Jensen goes for the door again, disgruntled and hurt. He’s had enough of this. Jared keeps speaking though, surprising him with his next words. “You’re so much more than that.”
Jensen sinks back into his seat, lets the door fall closed. The back and forth of his emotions is dizzying. One second he wants to yell at Jared and run away and the next he can’t imagine ever leaving. Jared glances at him now and he looks so small and scared, all Jensen wants to do is hug him.
“You already mean more to me than he ever did and I don’t know what to do.”
Jensen doesn’t know what to do either. He has even less experience in this than Jared does.
“Come to the movies with me.”
“What?” Jared practically does a spit take.
“I mean it. Let’s go see a flick.”
“Like the drive-in?”
Jensen can see it now - steamy windows, all over Jared in the backseat, Chad and all his buddies coming to knock on the windows, Genevieve wondering why her boyfriend’s in the passion pit playing backseat bingo with someone else. Fantastic idea.
“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is up at the Riviera, next town over. Let’s go. Right now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Now.” Jensen nods seriously. Jared stares at him like he thinks Jensen’s insane. “You don’t want to?”
“No, I want to,” Jared replies, sounding surprised at his own answer. “Okay. So let’s go.”
“Good.” Jensen grins and slaps the dashboard. “Punch it. We can make the matinee.”
Jared grins widely and starts the car. Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Breathless” bursts from the radio. As Jared backs out of the driveway, he throws his arm over the back of Jensen’s seat and looks over his shoulder. Jensen wants him to leave it there, nice and easy and lax, so close. When Jared puts both his hands back on the wheel, he’s actually disappointed.
“So where’d you tell your dad the car was?” Jensen asks as he feels both pockets of his jacket for his sunglasses.
“I told him I got a flat and you took it to Jim’s, that I’d pick it up later today.”
“Look at you, you smoothie.” Jensen clicks his tongue in approval and slips his shades on. “You know, you’re damn lucky I’m an honest guy, Jay. I could be in Mexico by now, selling your car for scrap.”
“Guess I trust you.”
“Guess you do.”
When Jensen claps his hand over Jared’s knee, Jared doesn’t push him away. He leaves it there the whole ride to the theater.
*******
Jared can’t pay attention to a single thing that Miss Gamble is saying. She’s going on about sexuality and incest in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and the rest of the class is divided between being enthralled and shocked. Jared’s never had a teacher - especially a female one - with such fascination for sex and violence. Chad once said that he thinks she spends her weekends trying to think of ways to rile the PTA. Her attempt to add Lolita and Catcher in the Rye to their required reading list almost got her fired last year.
Usually, he loves being in her class.
But today Miss Gamble could be talking using only four letter words and Jared wouldn’t notice.
He stares out the window, his mind back on Saturday afternoon, his thoughts lingering in the warmth and darkness of that movie theater.
The show had been mostly empty and they’d gone up to the balcony alone. The light from the projector cast a flickering white glow across Jensen’s face as he’d leaned in and kissed him even before the newsreels ended and the film began.
It had been exhilarating. His relations with Milo had been sequestered to their bedrooms, the garage, the occasional stolen moment in the car. Everything about it had made him feel ashamed, scared and hiding like a common criminal.
Making out in the empty balcony of a movie theater hardly qualified as public, but it still felt different enough to be important. Maybe it was in the way Jensen touched him so confidently, so sure of what he wanted and not loathing himself for it, or maybe it was simply the fact that Jared had chosen this rather than falling into it sideways, but everything with Jensen seemed better.
He is still confused, but not over how he feels. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do or where he’s going to go from here, but there’s no doubt over the fact that he wants Jensen.
Wants him as in he wants to tear Jensen’s clothes off, hold him down and do things to him that would shock and offend even the progressive Miss Gamble. He’s real gone.
Jared shifts in the uncomfortable metal chair, his knee hitting the basket underneath his desk. He’s growing embarrassingly hard and he tries to focus on absolutely anything else. He stares at the picture of President Eisenhower plastered to the wall by the flag, thinking that that should do it.
It doesn’t. All it does is make him think about things like war and then he starts thinking of Jensen in military uniform and it’s all down hill from there.
He should concentrate. He needs to concentrate. He can’t explain away a B instead of an A by telling his parents that he was too busy daydreaming about Jensen’s freckled skin to pay attention to classic literature.
A note lands on the center of his desk with practiced ease, startling Jared from his indecent thoughts.
He glances around guiltily and brings the paper down into his lap as he unfolds it carefully, trying not to rustle.
You’re acting like a fidgety freak. What’s shakin’? is written in Chad’s messy scrawl. Jared’s face grows hot and his shirt collar feels tight. He shields the note from sight with his arm and jots down a quick reply.
Sugar high. CANNOT SIT STILL! Told you those Zotz were a terrible idea.
He has just tossed the note back to Chad when Jensen strolls into the classroom without knocking, carrying a pink slip of paper in his hand. He interrupts Miss Gamble mid-sentence and hands the note to her.
And then she’s looking up at Jared, waving for him to come forward.
“Mr. Padalecki, the principal needs to see you in his office. You may be excused.”
Jensen isn’t looking at him but Jared can see the corners of his mouth ticking upward like he’s trying desperately hard not to smile. Jared fumbles with his books and stands, trying to cover the tent in his trousers with his notebook.
He trips a little over his own two feet on his way to the front of the room. Miss Gamble hands him the note with a small smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing bad.” She assures him. “Make sure to see a classmate about your assignment some time today if Principal Kripke keeps you until the end of the period.”
“Of course,” Jared nods and follows Jensen into the hallway. Chad is tracking him, eyes narrowed, and Jared walks faster.
“You’re lucky you have Miss Gamble for English,” Jensen comments when they’re a safe distance from the classroom. “I have Mr. Edlund and that guy is twisted. Hilarious, but twisted. We’re reading the weirdest stuff.”
“Jensen, what are you doing?” Jared whispers, catching up to him. “Where are we going?” Jensen grins.
“In here,” Jensen looks both ways, making sure the hallway is clear, and then pulls Jared into the custodial closet. Jared grunts when his body surprisingly collides with the back of the door, Jensen on him as soon as the latch catches. He doesn’t even bother to turn on the closet light.
“Jensen!”
Jensen’s kissing him, hands on his waist, and Jared doesn’t want to stop him but -
“Jen, I have class, we’re in school, we can’t…oh, nggghh.” He stops scrambling and pushing away Jensen’s touch and instead gives into it. “That feels…good, oh god.”
“That’s more like it,” Jensen murmurs in his ear, kissing his jaw. Jared knows he should be more concerned with the fact he just skipped out of class for the first time in his life, but he can’t bring himself to care. He turns and shoves Jensen, pinning him to the spot where he’d just been.
“You’re a bad influence, Jen.” He nips at Jensen’s bottom lip, cradling Jensen’s face in his hands.
Jensen laughs.
“I’m a bad influence? Jay, you made me gay.” He jokes and ropes his fingers in Jared’s hair, opens his mouth to another kiss, and swallows Jared’s laugh.
Outside the door, the bell rings for a bomb drill, sounding out a shrill warning. They both ignore it.
*******
“You know, this isn’t half bad,” Jensen comments, setting Jared’s rough draft of his English midterm paper aside.
“Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking I get straight-As only because teachers like me,” Jared replies, affronted but laughing just the same. Jensen kicks his heels up on Jared’s desk, jostling some of his trophies on the shelves above as the desk moves.
“You’re far too happy and well adjusted to have jets too, is all I’m saying. Truly smart people are always truly miserable.” He leans back in Jared’s chair, folding his arms behind his head. Jared looks up at him from where he lies on the floor next to Sadie, the smaller of his two dogs.
“And why’s that?”
“Because smart people are cynical by nature. They see everything underneath the surface, they know all the bad things that go on in the world.”
Jared doesn’t necessarily believe that that’s true. Ignorance may be bliss, but that doesn’t mean that knowing equals unhappiness.
“It’s like Adam and Eve, right? They eat from the Tree of Knowledge and things aren’t so great in the Garden of Eden anymore,” Jensen continues.
Jared sits up and Sadie makes a noise of displeasure, having been perfectly comfortable resting her head on Jared’s stomach. Jared rubs her behind the left ear like she likes and tosses one of her toys out into the hallway. She scrambles to chase it but doesn’t return as her idea of fetch is a bit confused.
“So I take it that you, in all your bitterness and experience, must be a genius,” Jared replies and Jensen nods.
“Well of course.” Jensen laughs and drops his feet back to the ground, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “And you, the universally beloved Jared Padalecki, with the sports awards and the millions of friends and the impossible charm and crazy amounts of energy, you, simply have no right to be intelligent too. You’re so on the stick, it’s inhuman.”
“Really,” Jared smirks, amused at Jensen’s tirade.
“Totally unfair.”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
Jensen shrugs and leans down even more; Jared moves closer, tilting his face upward.
“Guess I’m gonna have to kiss you stupid.”
“Good solution.”
Jensen brushes his lips over Jared’s softly, slowly dropping to his knees on the floor in front of him. Jared lets Jensen work his mouth open a little bit at a time, each kiss going a little deeper, gaining in intensity. Jensen’s hands find Jared’s face; Jared’s hands find Jensen’s shoulders.
Jensen is pressing him backward, his full weight urging Jared to the floor, when the front door slams and there are energetic footsteps bounding up the stairs.
They jump away from each other quickly and Jensen nearly misses the chair when he tries to reclaim his seat. Jared pulls his backpack onto his lap and pretends to be digging through it.
“Hi, big bro.” Megan appears in his doorway momentarily, both Sadie and Harley happily at her heels. Her smile falters a little then comes back stronger, but tighter. “Hello, Jensen.”
“Hello, Megan.” Jensen nods politely and Jared is torn between smirking and smiling, both amused and touched by Jensen trying to play nice. “How are you today?”
“I’m going to try out for cheerleading next year, I’ve decided.” Megan pronounces. Jared gets the feeling that she’s flaunting her conformity in front of Jensen’s face like a badge of honor. “Gen says that I’d definitely make the squad.”
“Good for you,” Jensen comments with a smile and Megan looks disappointed. “Though I thought Genevieve was on the soccer team?”
“Yes, but I don’t like soccer. And she’s on the squad for the winter season - she says cheerleading’s just as athletic.”
“Well if Genevieve says so, she must be right. Good luck, little ‘lecki.” Jensen replies gamely. Megan eyes him, not all together sure if he’s mocking her or not.
“Thank you,” she finally says and turns her attention to Jared. “Mom says dinner is at six o’clock and that Jensen is invited to stay if he’d like to. We’re having that new Rice-a-Roni stuff.”
“Your mom is way too nice,” Jensen comments as Megan leaves. “Doesn’t she realize I’m a hoodlum?” Jensen turns on Jared’s record player, taking off the Monotones vinyl that’s spinning in silence and dropping the needle on the Kalin Twins’ latest single. He sticks his tongue out at Jared and wiggles it lasciviously.
“I think she actually likes your leather jacket,” Jared replies with a smile. “It’s kind of impossible to rebel against someone who refuses to judge.”
“Now I know why you’ve always been such a square.” Jensen kicks Jared’s foot and pulls a tattered paperback out of his back pocket. The cover is torn and the pages are crinkled with water damage. Jensen stretches out on Jared’s bed and rolls on his side, flipping the book open.
Jared studies him for a moment as Jensen gets comfortable, squirming around on his mattress. With his gaze downturned to read his dark lashes flutter against his cheeks and he looks practically perfect.
“What book is that?”
Jensen holds it up, showing him the cover.
“Play. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”
“Isn’t that the movie that we didn’t watch?” Jared grins and climbs up from the floor. He grins slyly and pushes his bedroom door closed, locking it, before crossing to the bed. Jensen rolls onto his back easily, letting Jared climb on top of him and straddle his waist. Jared reaches for the book and Jensen allows him to take it. Jared flips through its pages, taking in the notes in the margins, the stains, the rips. “Exactly how many times have you read this thing?”
“Too many.”
“It’s really that good?”
“No. Well, yeah. But I’ve been re-reading it because I want to use it for my audition when I get to New York.”
“Really?” Jared smiles excitedly and he sits up higher on Jensen’s lap, looking at the text with renewed interest. “What part?”
“Brick.” Jensen replies like it was the only answer. Jared knows he should know who “Brick” is, but honestly all he remembers from the film is the sound of the closing credits before the lights came up. Jensen rolls his eyes. “Paul Newman in the movie.”
“Ah, Paul Newman huh?” Jared teases, smiling slyly. “Not Brando, not James Dean.” He pauses, considering. “Hmm, how about that.”
“Ben Gazzara played the role on Broadway,” Jensen informs him pointedly. “My dad saw the play when it first opened few years back, he said it was amazing.”
“And someday that’ll be you up there, being amazing.” Jared replies and Jensen ducks his head to hide his blush. Jared flops over on the bed next to him, body beside Jensen’s now with their arms touching. “Let’s do some.”
“You mean, read it?”
“Yeah. You read for Brick and I’ll read for…” Jared scans the pages. “Big Daddy.”
“I can’t begin to explain how wrong that is.”
Jared hands Jensen back his book, thumping it against Jensen’s chest.
“Find a good scene to do.”
Reluctantly, Jensen sits up and leans against Jared’s headboard.
“You know, I didn’t think the first thing that we’d do in bed together would be reading Tennessee Williams.”
“Yet somehow it’s oddly fitting,” Jared grins and leans close to Jensen, peering over his shoulder at the dialogue.
“Let’s start here.” Jensen points to the top of the right hand page and clears his throat. He hesitates and Jared nudges him.
“I’m not gonna laugh,” Jared assures him and Jensen scowls.
“You won’t want to.” He retorts and coughs again. “I’m ashamed, Big Daddy. That’s why I’m a drunk. When I’m drunk, I can stand myself.”
“I see this is nice and light,” Jared remarks and puts his finger to his first line, jumping in. And Jensen was right; Jared’s not laughing by the time they finish the scene. In fact, his frown only grows deeper with every line he speaks.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, looking away from the play. He takes the book from Jensen’s hand and flaps it shut, tosses it down to the end of the bed like a poisonous object. Jensen lets him do it; he just keeps his eyes focused on Jared’s face until Jared feels uncomfortable.
“You’re really kinda okay at that, you know,” Jensen comments when Jared starts to bristle at his stare. Jared looks at him, frown wobbling in confusion, his forehead creasing.
“What?”
“The acting. That wasn’t bad, for a cold read.” Jensen inches down the bed and picks up the paperback again. Jared realizes it’s supposed to be a compliment, or at least that Jensen honestly means it as one, so he tries to disregard the note of surprise in Jensen’s voice. Jensen’s attempting to be appraising, not condescending. “Now I know I got someone to run lines with.” He taps Jared on the shoulder with the book and smiles. Jared sighs and leans back against the headboard.
The play’s words linger in his mind, leaving him unsettled. He doesn’t really care if Jensen thinks he’s competent at reading lines off a page; what he cares about is why Jensen finds this particular play so enthralling.
“That’s depressing. You really like that?”
“Yeah, I know, Big Daddy’s kind of an ass,” Jensen shrugs off Jared’s words.
“Not even thinking about Big Daddy.”
“What were you thinking then?”
“Thinking maybe I should play Brick,” Jared snorts, disgruntled.
“Why’s that?” Jensen seems bewildered by Jared’s assertion and Jared can’t really buy that Jensen doesn’t see it, doesn’t get it. He’s a good actor, but he’s not that good.
“Come on - ‘Heroes in the real world live twenty-four hours a day, not just two hours a game’?” Jared shakes his head. “’Life ain’t no damn football game. Life ain’t just a buncha high spots’?” Jared takes the book from Jensen’s loose grip and closes it again. Jensen scoffs loudly, finding Jared’s concern ludicrous.
“Jared, Brick’s a self-loathing washed-up drunk who’s stuck in the past. He’s miserable.”
“Because his perfect bubble burst,” Jared points out, voice a little louder, more insistent.
“You’re not in a perfect bubble,” Jensen counters. “What I was saying before…I didn’t mean it like that. You get that right?” He takes the book from Jared’s hands and tosses it aside. “I’m not reading this ‘cause of you. This isn’t about you.”
“I know that, I just…” Jared lies down flat on the bed again and rolls on his side, like a small child turning away from what they don’t want to face. Jensen shifts down too, his body stretched alongside Jared’s. He sets a hand on Jared’s hip and gently moves Jared onto his back. Then his hand comes to rest on Jared’s chest, a silent reassurance that’s it’s okay to tell him what’s really the matter. Jared sighs deeply and looks up into Jensen’s green eyes, knowing he’s waiting, expectant. “I worry sometimes.”
“About what?”
“I need to call things off with Genevieve.” Jared says by way of some kind of answer. Jensen’s hand tenses for a moment against his chest and then relaxes. “I’ve barely seen her in three weeks and I haven’t wanted to. This isn’t fair to her. She deserves so much better.”
“What are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell her the truth - that would be a disaster. But I can’t keep dating her just because it’s easier. It’s thoughtless and it’s selfish and it’s not at all who I want to be.”
Jensen looks down at him thoughtfully; Jared can see the wheels turning in his head. He doesn’t say anything and Jared is suddenly hit with a wave of self-doubt.
“What about you and Danneel?”
“Danneel?” Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Jay, Danneel and I…we haven’t even spoken since that night at Sam’s. I thought you knew that.”
“What?” Jared starts to sit up but Jensen pushes him back down.
“She thought I was using you to social climb, so that I could be her ‘real’ boyfriend. Since my only appeal for her was that I was the wrong kind of guy, she lost interest. No skin off my nose.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, really.” Jensen rolls on top of Jared, making a show of settling down against him, rubbing all over him. “I’m pretty happy here.”
“Hmm.” Jared murmurs, bringing his arms around Jensen’s back. They kiss long enough to lose track of time; Jared’s lips feel swollen and used by the time Jensen lets his mouth drift, finding his neck, running down to his collarbone.
“Kane says there are clubs in L.A. just for guys like us. We should go.” Jensen speaks against his skin, tugging Jared’s collar out of the way to kiss the skin there.
“To L.A.?” Jared is having a hard time focusing, realizing a moment after that there is reason for alarm. He tenses, trying to sit up. “And wait, Chris knows-“
“No, it’s just something he mentioned awhile back. Apparently he stumbled into one by accident, or so he says.” Jensen chuckles. “I think he got a drink out of it.” Jensen rolls his hips toward Jared’s, pleased when Jared’s body starts to relax again. “So do you want to go?”
“To a club for…queers?”
“Think about it. No one will know us, no one will care.” Jared grunts and spread his legs wider as Jensen whispers his promises directly against his lips, words brushing feather light and warm. “I could kiss you…right where everyone can see…”
“Jen…” Jared tugs on the back of Jensen’s thin tee shirt, fingers sliding over skin and dipping below Jensen's belt line, intimately brushing the top curve of his ass.
Jensen pushes Jared into the bed, slotting their bodies together and rocking hard. It’s been a month since their first kiss and they’ve come close to this a few times, but one of them always pulls back and calms down before things go too far.
Jared doesn’t want to stop. Too far isn’t the place he wants to briefly go anymore; it’s the place he wants to live.
Jensen must be of the same mind. He pulls back and rucks up Jared’s shirt and unzips his pants, not hesitating to ask permission. He’s slightly frantic, eyes wild and breathing heavy. Jared’s quick to catch up, hands fumbling as he yanks down the zipper on Jensen’s jeans.
Jensen’s hard and hot in the cup of his palm, bulging from between the open vee of his denims and straining against the thin cotton of his underwear. Jensen groans in relief and collapses back on top of Jared.
They rut against one another shamelessly and it’s over in mere seconds like they’re both thirteen again and touching themselves for the first time. They’re too impatient for anything else. Jared feels a hint of embarrassment as his underwear is soaked warm and sticky, but then Jensen groans and shudders above him and he’s wet too. Jared can feel it on his thigh, seeping into the fabric there.
“L.A.’s a great idea.” Jared gasps out as the aftershocks roll through him, sending shivers up his spine. Jensen kisses him, sated and sloppy, tongue tangling with his. They both groan together, tasting each other’s breath, as Jensen rolls his hips one last time.
“We’re definitely going.”
They lie there in a tangled heap until his mother calls them downstairs. Jared loans Jensen a clean pair of underwear and then tries and fails in not thinking about that fact all throughout dinner.
*******
The gymnasium is glaringly loud. Jensen had entirely forgotten the pandemonium of game night. He hasn’t been to one since ninth grade, back when he’d still thought organized sports and school spirit were great things. Back when Tom and Mike were his best friends and he was dating this too-sweet girl named Tania and everything was simple and boring.
There are plenty of other things for people to be looking at, but Jensen swears that his entrance draws suspicious stares and questioning glances from each and every single person he passes by as he climbs the bleachers.
“You’d think we were movie stars,” he mutters over his shoulder to Chris.
“They’re just looking because we’re so beautiful,” Katie replies instead, overhearing. “Wouldn’t you be jealous?”
“Damn straight,” Chris agrees and slings his arm over Katie’s shoulders.
“Either that or they’re expecting us to burst into flame for walking over this holy ground,” Jensen retorts. There are a couple of guys with thick glasses and sweater vests sitting on the top bleacher and they cower and shift down the bench when they see Jensen and Chris coming.
Jensen always finds that reaction amusing. He’s never been in so much as a fistfight at school and the worst Chris does is mouth off at the jocks. Yet people assume they’re nothing but trouble.
Not that he minds.
Misha Collins walks up to them as they settle in their seats and he sits down beside Jensen, curious look on his face. The nerds a few feet down are watching him with great admiration, as if Misha is an ambassador taking on a dangerous peace mission into hostile territory.
He doesn’t say anything at first.
“Yeah?” Jensen prompts him and Misha smiles.
“Oh, I’m just here because Kristen demanded it,” Misha waves him off, laughing. “She thinks that you folks showing up at a school event is a harbinger of the apocalypse and sent me over to ask you why you’re here.”
“See - celebrities,” Katie jokes, preening.
“So this is you, getting the story.” Jensen states skeptically.
“Oh, only in high school would this be of any importance to anyone. I came over because it was more appealing than being pestered by Kristen.” Misha pulls a small notebook out of his pocket, scraps of paper sticking out of it every which way and the cover hidden behind swaths of stickers and drawings, many in different languages. “So I’m going to sit here awhile and work on some of my own stuff and pretend to be interested in what you all are discussing, if that’s all right with you.”
“Cool by me.” Jensen glances down at what Misha’s writing, which appears to be poetry of some kind, and then he turns his attention to the court. It’s easy to find Jared; his senses are trained like a heat-seeking missile to search out Jared’s familiar face and body in any crowd.
Jared’s a lot more intense than he is during gym class, laser-like focus on the game he’s playing. His uniform, red and white, is loose and light on his body though Jensen has to admit that even Jared can’t make those white knee socks look good. He’s glistening with sweat, hair damp, and his jersey clings to the center of his back between his shoulder blades.
The whistle blows to mark the end of the first quarter and Jared jogs over to the bench. From the high fives and back slaps that his teammates are giving him, it’s probably safe to assume that at least part of the lead posted on the scoreboard is Jared’s doing. Jared sits down, white towel slung around his neck, and takes a long drink from his water bottle.
Jensen mentally wills Jared to turn around, look up, and see him. It’d been embarrassing enough to come here; he can’t work up the nerve to go down there and purposely get Jared’s attention. That’s a little too desperate.
Oddly, it’s Chad who notices him first and elbows Jared, pointing.
Jared smiles wide and waves happily, not caring how dorky he looks. It makes Jensen feel bad, at the very least, for not shouting hello first.
Coach Bollo snaps his fingers in front of Jared’s face to get his attention and Jensen feels worse for getting him in trouble. When Jared turns back into the huddle, Chad doesn’t. His glare is hard and remains on Jensen like it’s supposed to be a warning.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself an enemy, Jenny,” Chris comments and Jensen rolls his eyes.
“Like I’m worried about Chad Murray.”
“No, I meant her.” Chris points down to where Genevieve stands on the sidelines, pom-poms at her hips and a hateful look on her face. “That’s a Medusa stare right there.”
“I’d guess that’s actually for Katie.” Jensen leans forward and reaches over, taps Katie on the knee. “Hey - Gen giving you a hard time since the big B?”
“The break-up of the century? Yeah. How is that my fault?” Katie squawks, annoyed. “You’re the one hanging out with Jared all the time. Why is no one writing slut on your locker?”
“Because you’re fast. And Jen’s a guy. ‘Slut’ wouldn’t really work,” Chris explains flatly and Katie pouts. “She’s not gonna blame Jensen, even if he is suddenly Padalecki’s bestest, bestest friend.” Chris clutches his heart like it’s all too much and Jensen snorts, brushing him off.
“Well she better watch it, is all I’m saying. I can only take so much.”
“If there’s a cat fight, let me know so I can be there.”
Katie slaps Chris on the arm and he nicely pretends that it actually hurts.
“Is that why you’re here?” Misha suddenly asks, not looking up from his writing, and Jensen starts. He’d forgotten the guy was even there. “Supporting Jared?”
Jensen avoids Misha’s question by turning it around.
“You’re friends with Jared, right? You’re in chess club together.”
“That’s right.”
“He any good? At chess I mean?” Jensen doesn’t really know why he asks, but it kind of bothers him that there are sides of Jared he has yet to see, sides that other people already know.
“Jared is, uh, mostly good at mostly everything.”
“Mostly?”
Misha smiles a little and finally looks up at Jensen, pausing in his poetry.
“We had woodworking together last year and I think it’s in everyone’s best interest for Jared to never touch any kind of saw ever again.”
Jensen considers that and he can only imagine what trouble Jared got into. He’s seen Jared stub enough toes and trip over enough stairs to know Misha's exactly right. He’s easily distracted when he’s not giving something his all and that, combined with sharp, fast-moving blades, leaves Jensen surprised that Jared still has possession of all his fingers.
The referee’s whistle blows again and both teams take their places on the floor. Jensen abandons their conversation and faces forward, clapping his hands. He yells something generic that sounds wrong coming from him, and both Katie and Chris laugh at his expense.
“Shut up,” he snipes over the roar of the crowd at the jump ball and leans forward, elbows on knees. Jared successfully gains the ball for his team and Tom takes it up the court.
“Are you a basketball fan, Jensen?” Misha asks, pencil moving on paper again.
“I was, once upon a time.”
“And now you are again?”
“I don’t know, maybe. One game can’t hurt.”
“How did you and Jared become friends?”
Jensen turns away from the game; Misha is looking at him, deep blue eyes serene and perfectly innocent.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m curious by nature.” Misha sets his notebook down in his lap. “As soon as I graduate, I plan on taking off, seeing the world, though apparently Cuba might not be an option. Which is mildly annoying. With Russia and China already off limits…” He sighs, frustrated, and then apparently realizes he’s gone off on a tangent all on his own. “There’s too much I don’t know - too much that nobody knows. Aren’t you curious?”
“Probably about different things,” Jensen replies. Misha picks up his paper again and his pencil moves differently now, like he’s sketching rather than writing.
“I only asked the question because I find it interesting that halfway through senior year, two people such as yourselves finally get to know each other. Why now, after being in the same halls, the same classes, for almost four years?” Misha shrugs, glancing toward the game, pencil scratching paper. “You don’t have to answer. It merely seemed to me an anthropological anomaly.”
“You’re…a real odd ball, Misha.”
“You say odd, I say unique,” Misha tosses back lightheartedly, still drawing.
Jared’s fighting his way toward the basket now, two men guarding him. Only the second quarter and the other team are already desperate, singling out Jared for special attention. Jensen’s a little proud.
Then someone throws an elbow high, hard, purposeful, and Jared does down too fast, blood pouring from his nose. His head hits the court with a thud that Jensen swears is so loud he can hear it.
“Shit!” Jensen jumps up, concerned. It’s an automatic response; he’s ready to run down there in an instant. Jared’s not moving. Everyone stops, the crowd going from exuberant to deathly still, everyone simultaneously holding their breath.
Coach Bollo and Assistant Coach Allen bend down over Jared’s prone form. Chad and Tom and Mike hang around closely rather than taking a knee, knowing they’re not allowed near him but wanting to know if he’s okay. Genevieve drops her pom-poms and she’s hovering right beside Chad. He clutches her arm, holding her back.
Much like Misha is doing to him right now to keep Jensen from going.
It’s incredibly unfair that Genevieve, who’s not even Jared’s girlfriend anymore, gets to be there while he has to sit here and wait for some sign of movement - slide of an arm, twitch of a foot - to know Jared’s okay.
“Is he all right?” Katie whispers to him, standing on tiptoe and trying to see. Jensen’s heart is pounding, worried that Jared’s been knocked unconscious. The sound of his head hitting the hardwood when he fell still echoes in Jensen’s mind, even louder now.
Then Jared’s sitting up, however slowly, and the crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief. Home and visiting teams and fans alike clap as the coach helps a woozy and disoriented Jared to his feet, holding a towel to his face. Jared’s clutching the back of his head and his legs are shaky, but he seems to be growing less dazed every step he takes. The trainer is handing him ice and keeping a steadying hand on Jared’s shoulder as they lead him to sit down.
Jared pulls away the towel, tilting his head back to allow them a look. The front of his jersey is stained with blood, his mouth and chin smeared with it. There are a few words exchanged and the coach nods. Then Jared’s back on his feet and they’re leading him to the locker room.
There’s more clapping but Jensen is too distracted to participate.
“Head injuries are a mandatory hospital visit,” Misha is saying, though it takes a second for the information to sink in with Jensen. “A kid died in Sacramento last year after an unattended concussion so now they’re being exceptionally cautious.”
Jensen glares at him.
“Not making you feel any better. Sorry.” Misha rips out a page and then closes the cover of his notebook. He puts his pencil through the spiral binding. "Do you want a ride to County General? That’s where they’ll take him. I have a scooter.”
Jared’s parents are shuffling their way free of the bleachers and making their way to the exit, Gerry stern and Sherri pale with worry. They pause at the door and Jensen realizes that they were waiting for Genevieve when she joins them a moment later. Sherri puts her arm around Genevieve’s shoulders comfortingly.
Jensen slumps back against the wall.
The game starts back up as if nothing has happened; the crowd back in it immediately. Jensen remembers exactly why he hated all of these people for so long.
“This stinks. Let’s split,” Jensen half-shouts to Chris and Katie. “I need a drink.”
“That’s more like it,” Chris claps his hands together. Jensen goes to stand when Misha holds out a piece of paper, folded in quarters. Jensen only half unfolds it, peeking inside. It’s a sketch of Jared.
“How did you know?” Jensen asks quietly; he’s amazed Misha even hears him. Misha holds his gaze meaningfully.
“I don’t.” He says, his lie careful and clear. Jensen clutches the drawing more tightly. Misha smiles kindly. “He’ll be fine.”
Jensen shoves the paper into the front pocket of his leather jacket.
“Thanks.”
*******
“So you are alive.” Jared is standing in his bedroom doorway, frown fixed on his face in a firm line. He steps inside and closes the door behind him.
Jensen grunts and rolls over onto his back, reluctantly meeting Jared’s flat stare. The sheets are twisted around his legs and he suspects the pillow might have conformed to the shape of his face. He hasn’t showered or shaved in a day or two, much less combed his hair or changed his pajamas. He must look wretched. There is the sound of static coming from his record player, the record spinning uselessly. He wonders if his Jimmie Rodgers is ruined now; it’s been on the turntable since the night before. He’d been playing it over and over until he fell asleep.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well you haven’t been in school, you haven’t returned my calls, so here I am. I’m fine, by the way.” Jared points to his head. His face is still slightly black and blue around his nose and eyes, but nothing appears to be broken. “They won’t let me play out the last of the season though. I’m benched for three months minimum, which means baseball’s out too. Which is kind of a big deal for me. Helluva way to start the new year.”
“’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles, closing his eyes.
“Yeah. You look sorry,” Jared mutters. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and leans back against the closed door. “You smell, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Jensen buries his face in his pillow, muffling his voice.
“I’m guessing you heard about the plane crash. Please don’t tell me that’s why you’re holed up here like Howard Hughes?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jensen lifts his head a little, confused.
“Buddy Holly.” Jared’s voice rings with disbelief. “The Big Bopper? Ritchie Valens?” Jensen has no idea where the hell Jared is going with this. “You really don’t know?”
“Clearly not.”
“How can you not…?” Jared is astounded. “They all died in a plane crash on Monday night. Katie’s been wearing black ever since.”
Any other time, Jensen might have cared. He would’ve been shocked. He would’ve called Steve and Chris and Katie and commiserated over a pint, playing music as loudly as they could just for the sake of playing it. But not now. Now, some rock ‘n’ roll stars he never even knew don’t really register.
He narrows his eyes at Jared. “Why are you even here? I know you didn’t come to give me a news bulletin. Shouldn’t you be off with Gen somewhere?”
“Gen and I broke up, Jensen. Two weeks ago.” Jared states. “And you know that we did. So if you have a problem with me, or you don’t want to see me anymore, don’t blame it on her. Just tell me.”
“She went to the hospital with you.”
“With my parents.” Jared corrects. “I didn’t ask her to. Why didn’t you come?”
“Christ, Jared.” Jensen pushes his eyes open and rises to his elbow. “What did you expect me to do? How was I supposed to explain being there?”
“Chad stopped by after the game was finished,” Jared retorts and Jensen flops back onto the bed, groaning in frustration. “My parents know you, they think we’re friends. It’s not like anyone would know, Jensen.”
“You’d be surprised.” Jensen covers his face with his hands and reminds himself to breathe.
“You didn’t even call to see how I was doing. What if I’d been really hurt?”
“Yeah, what if you had.” It doesn’t matter. Turned ankle or TB, Jensen will never be the one at Jared’s bedside holding his hand. He’ll never be the one Jared’s parents wait for at the door; he’ll be the one Jared’s parents will never know existed.
“Nice.” Jared snaps, taking Jensen’s bitter comment for cold indifference. Jensen shuts his eyes more tightly and lets Jared think what he wants to think. Paper rustles and then something falls onto his stomach. “There. That’s why I came. I thought you might want to know.”
Jared’s back is turned when Jensen opens up the folded flyer that had been dropped. The bold black block letters shout out from the bright yellow page. In two weeks’ time, drama club is hosting auditions for the spring production of Thornton Wilder’s The Matchmaker after school.
Jared is facing him again, arms crossed protectively over his chest. Jensen can only look at him, confused. Jared sighs and uncomfortably tries to explain.
“It didn’t look like you were in a big hurry to get back to school, and I didn’t want you to miss it.”
“Jared…” Jensen can’t even find the right words. Here he’s been, hiding in his room and feeling sorry for himself, shutting Jared out completely, and here Jared is, being impossibly kind and thoughtful when he doesn’t deserve it in the slightest.
“I was even thinking of trying out myself, because with baseball being out, I thought we could…” Jared stops. “It doesn’t matter. But you should do it.”
Jensen is still at a loss. Jared nods once, finished, and unfolds his arms.
“I’ll see you around, Jensen.”
“Jared, wait.” Jared does wait, but Jensen has nothing on hand to say. Jared looks at him expectantly and Jensen blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ll see you around? That’s your big parting shot?”
Jared’s brow furrows in confusion and annoyance. Jensen swings his legs off the side of the bed, sitting all the way up.
“You should’ve thrown a punch, thrown something.”
“You want me to do it again? Because right now I have no problem with that.” Jared replies angrily, nostrils flaring.
“What I meant is that I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you bringing me over audition flyers,” Jensen holds up the paper, “when I’m being a class-a jerk.”
Jensen sucks in a deep breath and stands, pushing the covers off. His whole body is stiff; he hasn’t gotten out of bed all day long. He wants to take Jared in his arms but he knows that’d be pushing his luck right now. If he looks at Jared, he won’t be able to stop himself so instead he opts for going to the window. Pulling back the curtains he finds the day bright and cheerful, mocking him the same as it has for days.
“I really hated not being able to go to you, Jay.” The words make him feel weak and he hates saying them out loud. “All I wanted to do was get to you and I couldn’t. I’m sorry…I just…I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You did it with Danneel. You kept that whole relationship a secret. It didn’t seem to bother you then.”
“Danneel was different.” Jensen stares at a pair of young kids riding bikes down the streets, streamers on the handlebars dancing in the wind. They’re beautifully simple and completely unaware of how much harder things get a little further down the road. He remembers when he felt that way. “I don’t like people prying into my life, Jay. I never wanted to be part of the gossip mill, didn’t want to get mixed up in all that stupid high school stuff. It’s nobody’s business who I’m with or what I’m doing. Dani wanted to keep it quiet, and I was just fine with that. It was my choice. I liked it that way.”
Jensen rubs his bottom lip and moves his feet wider apart, keeping himself steady. It’d been so easy to fall for Jared. So easy to forget the taboos he was breaking and to throw himself into it wholeheartedly. He hadn’t really realized then how it would be. Jared had known, and Jared had tried to run away. Jensen now understands why.
“But someone telling me who I can’t see? Who I can’t love? All I wanna do is be with you and I can’t.” Jensen turns his head slightly to the side and glances over, tears of frustration brimming in his eyes. “That’s not a secret I want to keep, Jay.”
“And you think I do?” Jared’s voice cracks and the look of pain on his face slices Jensen’s heart into pieces. “Jensen, it is killing me. I don’t keep things from people. I don’t have secrets. Until Milo, there wasn’t a single thing that I would’ve kept to myself. I used to get in trouble for saying too much. And now I’m lying to my parents, I’m lying to my friends, and I can’t stop. I can’t stop because if I stop, I lose this. I lose you.”
Jensen can’t look at him anymore. It hurts too much. He turns back to the window, eyes darting back and forth and trying to find something to focus on, something else besides the pain.
“Maybe we should stop.”
“What do you mean…”
“It’s never going to work out in the long run anyway. I’m going to New York, you’ll be in college god knows where. Time to get out while we’re ahead. No damage done.”
He expects Jared to protest; it’d be completely unlike him to just give in. Instead of a shout though, Jared’s arms are circling him, turning him around gently. Jared’s kiss is a surprise; soft, achingly tender. He holds Jensen like he’s fragile, already cracked.
“Yeah. No damage done,” Jared whispers brokenly, leaning his forehead against Jensen’s. Jensen reaches up and rests his hands on Jared’s wrists, needing to hold onto him somehow. They’re breathing in sync, heartbeats nearly the same. Jensen can feel his pulse.
“So what do we do?” Jensen asks, lost. “Break up?”
“Not that,” Jared responds firmly. “Definitely not that.”
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