Bulletproof: part four
part three
There should be some kind of law about Jared getting woken up before his alarm goes off. The sunlight is just starting to edge around his drapes when his cellphone goes. His eyes feel puffy and he could really do with another hour or so of sleep. In fact, while he's asking for it, make that twenty-four freaking hours of solid sleep.
He manages to swipe the glass of water by his bed onto the floor as he fumbles blindly around on the nightstand for his humming cellphone.
He flops over onto his back, pushes the phone in the general direction of his ear, and says, "Whuh?"
"Hey, baby," says Melanie. "Good news! Jensen's called in sick so you get the day off. Make sure you say thank you to him when he's back on his feet, yeah? Oh and what do you think? Bubbles or disposable cameras on the wedding guests' tables? Ben says cameras but c'mon? Seventy-five people taking pictures of me when I least expect it? How is my self-esteem supposed to survive that?"
"Yeah. Bubbles. Awesome."
Jared ends the call and tries to go back to sleep.
:::
Twenty minutes later, he's on the phone to his mom, trying to get the recipe for her chicken soup.
:::
"No no no," says Jensen, shaking his head as if the sight of Jared standing on his doorstep is just too painful to be true. "I'm sick. Not going anywhere. No appointments. No one wants to fuck a guy who's sweaty and smells like puke."
"I dunno," says Jared as he shoulders his way past him into the house. "You can find some crazy fetishes on the 'net. Like, there are these guys who get off on women in high heels getting their cars stuck in mud. Just that. No boobs or sex or anything. Just… cars. Cars stuck in mud and women in high heels who can't get the cars out of the mud."
Jensen stares after him, door still standing open, while Jared heads off to the kitchen. Jared looks back at him and frowns.
"C'mon. I have soup."
Jensen makes a pitiable little noise and closes the door. He pads on bare feet down the corridor after Jared and watches him go through his cupboards. He looks adorably sleep-ruffled, even if he smells rank. There are red lines marked out on his cheek from where his face has been pressed against the creases on the pillow case. His pyjama bottoms are faded green cotton and hang low on his hips and Jared gets the urge again to just pin him down and gnaw on his hipbones until they're all bruised and spit-slippery. Which should probably wait until Jared's sure Jensen's not infectious.
"You don't have to do this, man," Jensen says. He moves closer and sniffs at the soup Jared is reheating for him. "You really didn't have to buy me soup."
Jared looks up at him and grins. "I didn't buy it. I made it. With my own two hands and my momma's recipe."
Jensen stares at him for so long that Jared starts to think he's fazed out. Passed out on his feet maybe. But his gaze is too intently focused on Jared. His expression is unreadable.
"You made me soup," he says finally.
He's so completely unreadable that uneasiness creeps in over Jared's cheerfulness. He wonders if maybe he's made some huge social faux pas. Like maybe Sam forgot to tell him that it's incredibly bad manners to take chicken soup to a prostitute when he's ill. There are probably hundreds of other important little rules about this kind of thing that Sam hasn't passed on.
"Don’t you like soup? I swear, it's totally edible, man. I mean, I think it is. I haven't made soup before but it smells good and I was really careful about writing the recipe down right."
Jensen snaps back to himself and smiles as if he can't help it, directing it abruptly down at the ground. He scrapes his fingers through his hair and a flush sweeps over his cheeks. He lets out a small huff of breath in something like a bewildered laugh.
"Do you need to sit down?" Jared says, moving over to his side, hands hovering uselessly around him because he knows Jensen won't take kindly to manhandling but he seriously does look to be in need of some. He tries to cover up his concern with teasing but it doesn't exactly ring true. "It's okay. I was surprised when I found out I could cook, too. It'll pass."
It's right then that Jensen's knees give out, buckling beneath him. Jared scoops him back upright and his arm stays curled around Jensen, holding him against his chest while Jensen sways and shivers. There's a sudden silence, a slowing down, as Jensen tilts his face up to Jared, lips parted and eyes bright with something like terror. And Jared knows that there are precisely five seconds between this moment and the moment he kisses Jensen.
And he really really wants to just grab ahold of Jensen and kiss him to within an inch of his life. Which, with his current state, won't really be all that hard.
Somehow, he doesn't and the moment drifts away, untouched, and then Jensen slaps him irritably in the chest.
"Get the fuck off me. I'm gonna puke." He stumbles off in the direction of the bathroom. "Your goddamn soup's making me nauseous."
Jared puts his energies into being offended by the soup comment because it's easier than freaking the hell out over the fact he just had an armful of Ackles and that the reason he didn't kiss him had a hell of a lot less to do with Jensen being sickly than it should have. To be honest, he's not exactly sure why he didn't because he really really really wanted to.
And then, because it's hard to still be offended about the soup comment when Jensen comes back and demands a bowlful of it, Jared concentrates on settling him down on the couch and finding something for him to watch on the TV and hunting around for a blanket to wrap him up in. Jensen accepts it all with very bad grace but gruffly informs Jared that whatever is left over of the soup is his and Jared can't have any of it. Which makes Jared secretly feel very proud indeed.
When Jensen falls asleep in the afternoon - an old rerun of Quincy showing silently on TV - Jared puts his bowl in the dishwasher and makes himself some coffee. It's strange being in Jensen's kitchen with the house so utterly silent. As he stirs his coffee, he looks over the room and wonders where Jensen got the single magnet (a tacky Las Vegas souvenir) stuck to his fridge. There are a few clean but clearly well-used pans in one of the cabinets and Jared wonders if Jensen bought them himself or if his mother gave them to him when he left home.
It's feels bizarrely personal for Jared to be standing alone in Jensen's kitchen, while Jensen sleeps on the couch. A rush of gratitude and delight for being trusted in this way warms Jared all the way through.
Going back to the livingroom, he sits on the floor with his back against the couch and listens to Jensen breathe and the clock tick and the faraway hum of suburban traffic.
There's a peacefulness to sitting there like that and Jared watches the TV without really taking any of it in. He tunes in to the mute serenity of the pale peach afternoon and grins to himself, tilts his head back to rest against the couch cushion, and allows himself to catch up on his own sleep.
:::
Someone is leaning on the doorbell. Jensen is making unhappy, snuffly noises about it, still mostly asleep, and Jared feels like his head is full of cotton balls. He staggers to his feet and notes that Quincy is no longer on TV and has been replaced with some fluffy, dancing puppets with horrifyingly gaping mouths.
The doorbell is still buzzing loudly when Jared snaps the door wide and gets ready to punch out who-the-fuck-ever ruined his nap.
The guy looks back at him and then slings his bag into the house, just past Jared's ankles.
"And who the hell are you?" the guy demands, lazy but unimpressed, like Jared was the one waking people up with inconsiderate doorbelling when decent people were asleep.
The answer is apparently not all that important because the guy doesn't wait for it before he moves to step past Jared into the house. Not that he has much luck. Jared's not an aggressive type, but he's damn stubborn and when he's not moving, no one else is either. The guy tries pushing past and then has to stop because he's not getting anywhere and it's going to look embarrassing for him soon. He looks up at Jared and raises an eyebrow.
"Where's Jensen?"
"Right here," says Jensen, moving out into the corridor. He's still groggy but he's walking unaided and only very subtly propping himself up against the wall.
"Jenny!" says the guy. Then he stops and studies him, eyes widening. "Christ, you got ten miles of bad road right there! What the hell happened to you?"
"You can fuck right off if you're gonna be mean to me, Chris." The mild way in which it's said suggests Jensen isn't all that offended and from the way Chris is grinning, he's not taking any offence either. Reluctantly, Jared takes a step back and allows Chris inside the house.
"Cute watchdog you got here, Jen. He got a name? I don't see a collar." He sticks his hand out to Jared, smirking, and Jared wonders if the reason Jensen was so unaffected by Jared's best friend being a douche was because the situation was all too familiar.
"I'm Jared," he says, shaking Chris's hand, and is unprepared for the sudden, significant look Chris shoots Jensen, his smirk growing even wider.
"I'm sick," Jensen snaps. "He made me soup. And get that goddamn look off your face, Chris." He executes an awkward turn, swapping one shoulder resting against the wall for the other and then heads back towards the couch. "There are puppets on my TV," he mutters and Jared's not sure if this is meant as a good thing or a bad one.
Chris is still watching Jared. Still smirking too.
"You made him soup?" he says finally and in Chris's Oklahoma drawl it sounds like a euphemism for something absolutely filthy.
"And now I'm making coffee," Jared says, turning away to the kitchen before Chris can catch his flush.
But Chris seems to be coming with him and just fucking sits himself down on one of the breakfast bar stools and goes right on watching. Jared sets about making two cups of coffee, not bothering to ask if Chris wants one or not because he's going to get one and Jared doesn't dare risk starting any kind of conversation with him, not even about coffee.
Eventually, Chris seems to take pity on Jared and the smirk fades slightly. There's a new intensity in the way he watches Jared, which is somehow even more unnerving.
"Jen's a godawful judge of character," says Chris seriously and Jared's gaze snaps to him, ready to argue if that's what Chris wants. But his expression is neutral and he adds, "I'm guessing you know that. I'm also gonna guess you were as surprised to have me turn up as I was to find you here."
Stirring the mugs slowly, Jared nods and prepares to reconsider whether Chris is a douche of Chad proportions or merely a regular issue one. Maybe an epic douche when he feels the situation calls for it and just a smug, mildly douchey type the rest of the time. And yeah, if Jared thinks about it, knowing Jensen and his completely awful life-choices, then Jared would be concerned about finding some random joe in his house too.
"So you're his babysitter then?" Chris says. "How's that going?"
"Uh… interestingly?" Jared offers, then laughs at the answering grin on Chris's lips. "Yeah, it's all right, mostly."
"Is that coffee?" Jensen shouts from the other room. "It is! I can smell it!"
"Not for you!" Jared shouts back. "You're sick and you don't wanna be puking up coffee-flavoured vomit! Trust me!"
He realises Chris is watching him and feels awkward about bossing Jensen around in front of one of his friends. Maybe it's Chris's job to take charge of Jensen when he tries to do stupid things. But then, it's not exactly as if Jensen listens all that attentively when people try to save him from himself. Jared scratches his head and shoves Chris's cup of coffee towards him.
"Really, coffee-vomit has to be gross, right?" Jared says.
"Good of you to consider his vomit so carefully," Chris says solemnly and Jared grins. "Most people don’t show that kind of care."
"I want coffee," Jensen shouts, no doubt having spent the last few minutes considering Jared's refusal.
"I think he's feeling better," says Jared. "If his lungpower is anything to go by."
:::
When Jared leaves, Jensen tries to arrange a pick-up time with him for tomorrow morning because he's sure he'll be well enough to see clients. Jared assures him that he's going to damn well take it easy for a few days. Jensen argues this point with a fierce stubbornness that does actually leave Jared wondering if Jensen might in fact be well enough. However, he ruins it all by regurgitating chicken soup over Chris's feet and Jared ends the discussion by threatening to call Sam.
Grimacing in disgust, Chris pries his boots off and ushers Jared out the front door.
"Quit fretting, boy," he says. "I'll make sure your baby gets his bed-rest."
:::
Apparently Chris is staying for a while because even after Jensen's better, the next couple of days when Jared comes to collect Jensen for appointments, he ends up having to share his breakfast with the man. While Jared does his best to wolf down as much of what's on his plate as he can manage, Chris - usually still sitting around in his shorts - teases Jensen around his mouthfuls of stolen food about making himself all pretty for the paying customers and Jensen flushes and scowls and flips Chris off.
Chris waves them off at the door, squinting in the sunlight, and then disappears back inside. More than once, when Jared and Jensen come back in the evening, Chris is still in his shorts and nothing else.
"What does he do all day?" Jared says.
"Well it sure as hell ain't the dishes or the vacuuming," Jensen grumbles. He sighs and scratches at his jaw, skin still fresh and glowing from his morning shave. "Ah, it's just how he is. He'll be here for a week or so then he'll take off and I won't see him again for months. Might get a postcard from Cairo or Riga or somewhere. Or hear one of his songs on the radio." He flashes Jared a smile and says, "If he wants temporary residence of my couch, it's the least I can do, right?"
"You two been friends long?"
"Since I came out here, pretty much. Chris and Steve helped me find a place to live and stuff like that," says Jensen. He smiles at the memory but it fades, becoming a small, unhappy curl of his lips. "Chris tried to get me some options when the acting didn't work out."
Jared glances away from the road for a second when Jensen falls silent. He thinks that Jensen is deliberately looking in the other direction. The morning sunlight is hazy with smog today and it turns Jensen's skin to gold. It makes him impossibly perfect, which makes the situation in all its fucked-up glory, even more surreal.
"None of those options play out?" Jared says finally.
Still not turning to look at him, Jensen gives a half-hearted shrug.
"Doing this just… I dunno. Started to feel like a foregone conclusion."
It startles a laugh out of Jared, which quickly becomes a belly-deep guffaw. He tries to get a handle on it because Jensen gives him a pretty irritable look, one eyebrow raised in a haughty arch. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jared swallows and tries to regain his composure, mostly successfully.
"Foregone conclusion because you're just that fuckable?" he says, eyes bright with glee.
A flush colors Jensen's cheeks then and he grins, both embarrassed and amused. He shakes his head and makes a few noises that could be the beginning of a protest or justification. Then he gives up and settles for pulling a face at Jared.
"Just too damn pretty for regular work," says Jared, because somehow he's unable to resist teasing Jensen when he gets all flushed and spluttery. "It all starts to make sense."
:::
On Friday, they finish at 4pm and Jensen goes straight back to his because it's Chris's last day and Jared gets the impression that they have plans. By now, Jared has warmed enough to Chris that he's going to be sorry to see him go, even if he's very much looking forward to not having Chris pick things off his plate every morning. Still, theft of breakfast and candy aside, it's good having Chris around because he doesn't allow Jensen to go all quiet and introverted.
Once he's dropped Jensen home, Jared realises that he doesn't have plans and would kind of like them, considering he's 24 and this is a weekend in L.A. He considers calling Sandy, but ends up calling Chad instead and between them, they come up with an awesome plan involving a shitload of alcohol and as many bars as they can make it to before the aforementioned shitload of alcohol turns the bones in their legs to the consistency of gummi bears.
It all goes wrong pretty early on. The first bar they go to is playing the music - some skull-slapping dance trash - at deafening levels but Chad is determined to tell Jared about the result of his recent audition, so the conversation ends up going something like:
"This is a hint!" Chad says, leaning in over his drink towards Jared.
"About what?" Jared says, hunching down towards him.
"What?" Chad says.
"What's a hint?" says Jared, heroically trying again.
Chad shakes his head and shrugs, expression aggravated. "What the fuck, man? I don't know! What is a hint?"
"You said: This is a hint," says Jared as he desperately clings on to the shreds of his sanity. "I'm saying: what is a hint?"
Chad stares at him for a second then clenches his teeth. He grabs Jared by the back of the neck and drags him down until his mouth is pressed to Jared's ear. His breath's kind of tickly and Jared laughs and tries to squirm away.
"I said," Chad bellows in his ear, "'They said I squint!'"
Which just makes Jared dissolve into laughter. Chad hauls him out of the bar, down the street and into a quieter bar. Slinging Jared in the general direction of an empty table in the corner, Chad stalks off to get the drinks. The seats are comfortably squishy and Jared settles in for the long haul. It's not a bar he's been in before and he discovers he greatly appreciates the reduction in noise level and the more sedate behavior of the customers, and he hopes these two revelations aren't indications that he's getting old.
He's already contentedly feeling the cloud of alcohol smother his brain but Jared thinks he could quite happily be drunker yet. He looks over at the bar, intending to tell Chad to make his whatever-it-is Chad's ordering for him a double, and then has to stop.
Chad is standing right next to Chris. By logical extension, even Jared's fogged-up head can work out that if Chris is in the bar then the chances are that Jensen is also here somewhere.
He's not sure if that's the best news he's had all night or whether he's going to puke. Quite possibly both because, good or bad, Jensen being in the same bar as Chad could well be too exciting for Jared's stomach to handle. Carefully, he leans forward to get a better view and sees Jensen almost right away. Jensen is with some guy Jared doesn’t know at a table that's already pretty loaded down with empty glasses. Jensen is pretty obviously having a good time. He's animated, bright with laughter, his posture's loose and uninhibited, all his natural restraint fallen away.
Jared thinks it's just about the most awesome thing he's ever seen and the brief second of being peeved that it's someone other than Jared making Jensen let go like that and cheerfully act like a dork can't stand against the fact Jensen looks happy.
It's hard to stop watching but Jared can't take the risk of Jensen looking in his direction and seeing Jared staring at him like some kind of obsessed stalker. So he slumps back in his chair and waits for Chad. He's not sure whether to mention it to Chad or not. He's not entirely sure he can trust Chad not to do something completely humiliating - like he usually does - like go over there and announce Jared's kinda-sorta crush on Jensen to him. Or maybe he might not even go to the trouble of going over there; he might just shout it across the bar.
"What are you grinning about?" says Chad when he returns to the table. He squints at Jared, assessing him. "You look like you've taken something. Have you taken something, man? And is it good shit? 'Cause if it is you know you gotta share, right?"
"No, I haven’t taken anything. I don't take anything, you know that."
"You smoked pot that time at Mike's," says Chad. "Couple of times."
"Yeah, all right but…" Jared gestures around in frustration. "You see a bong here, man?" Chad opens his mouth to argue about it some more and Jared makes his decision. "Right, keep your mouth shut but… see the guy over at the table there, the guy in the black shirt?"
Jared winces as Chad doesn’t bother being surreptitious about looking over in Jensen's direction and saying, "Which guy? Dude, I count at least five guys in black shirts. Wanna be more specific?"
"The really hot guy in the black shirt," Jared hisses. Chad shoots Jared a sceptical look and, greatly daring, Jared jabs a finger at Jensen. "That guy."
"What about him?" says Chad. He's fairly obviously losing whatever interest he had in the first place.
"That's Jensen," says Jared. And then he has to grab Chad's face, smooshing it in the process, and jerk it back towards him because Chad totally fails at ninja-stealth observation. Eventually Jared has to let Chad go because his mouth looks funny smooshed up like that and people are starting to give them looks. Slowly and with a greater degree of subtlety, Chad tilts his face back to look at Jensen.
"Okay," says Chad after a long moment's scrutiny.
"Well?" says Jared.
Chad looks back at him and shrugs.
"Seriously? I was expecting someone hotter."
Jared's jaw drops. For someone hotter than Jensen to exist goes against the laws of physics. There would be nuclear explosions every time they smiled. Or, okay, maybe Jared's exaggerating - though not by much - but Jensen is just about as hot as anyone can reasonably - and even slightly unreasonably - expect to be. Especially when he's happy and goes from hot to fucking gorgeous. In the face of Jared's obvious disbelief, Chad just shrugs again and takes a mouthful of beer.
"I wouldn't fuck him," he says.
"Of course you wouldn't fuck him!" Jared says, spluttering a little in his vehemence. "You're straight!"
Chad still doesn't seem to have grasped the extent of his crazy-ass weirdness in not finding Jensen hot enough. It goes damn well near heresy as far as Jared's concerned but Chad just takes another look at Jensen and shrugs again.
"I dunno. Way you go on about him I was expecting to turn gay just looking at him. But… no. Maybe if he had a pussy under those jeans…" Chad trails off, considering this possibility. Then he shakes his head again. "Nah, he'd need tits as well. And a shave. In fact, screw that, only one place my ladies should need to regularly shave. Underarms and legs too though, not big on hairy women. No, man, totally not interested."
It takes Jared a moment to recover his voice. He's still feeling a little dazed but manages to get a good degree of his equilibrium back by half-draining his bottle.
"Well, that's just fine," he drawls finally. "'Cause I was real worried about you makin' a play for Jen and all. Guess I'm still in with a chance myself then, right?"
"Hey, lemme tell you: if I was interested in his ass, you can bet I wouldn't be pussying around about it like you are."
As far as Jared is concerned, it's totally unfair for Chad to say that Jared is 'pussying around'. He still feels he's completely out of his depth and isn't even entirely sure what it is he wants from Jensen. Besides, he likes Jensen, as a friend, and any desire Jared may have for a lot of completely filthy sex with him or, even more tellingly, the opportunity to kiss each and every one of his damn freckles, is more than capable of screwing their relationship up beyond repair. There are more than enough people in Jensen's life who want to fuck him; Jared wants to be more to him than that, likes being his friend. Nothing, not even the chance to fuck Jensen through the mattress, is worth jeopardising that.
He hasn't told Chad about the near miss when Jensen was sick, when Jared had Jensen pulled up close with his arms around him, and there had almost been a kiss. Chad wouldn't understand the lack of penetrative sex immediately afterwards and he definitely wouldn't understand why Jared hadn't followed through.
Jared's thought about it a lot since then. An embarrassing amount of time has been spent trying to figure out why he didn't kiss Jensen. And he thinks it comes down to the fact that Jensen would have let Jared kiss him, and that's enough. That's the kind of thought that should be nothing but somehow manages to be provocative enough to catch the attention of Jared's cock.
Chad glances back over in Jensen's direction. "So, you wanna go over and say 'hi'?"
Jared considers it, still stung by Chad's comment, and then shakes his head. Chad rolls his eyes and looks back at him, "You wanna go someplace else, then?" Jared shakes his head again, dismissing the option as too juvenile. Chad sighs and takes another mouthful of beer. "Think you should do something. 'Cause he's coming over here."
Jared snaps bolt upright in his place, sloshing beer over the tabletop, the bubbles fizzing and crackling against the metal. He has a sudden panic about how wrecked he must look because he hadn't exactly been dressing to impress and the L.A. heat is heavy on him and combined with the burn of alcohol, he must look red and sweaty. They're not concerns he can voice to Chad for reassurance because asking Chad do I look okay? will give the guy material for the next six months. And, from the set of his face and the slouch of his shoulders, Chad is apparently determined not to act like he has the slightest interest in so much as Jensen's existence.
"Don’t be a dick, please don’t be a dick," Jared hisses at him, eyes wide and pleading. Then he straightens up and grins as Jensen moves into sight.
"Hey," says Jensen. "Chris said you were over here! I'd'a come over sooner but it took me a while to work out that he wasn't just being a jerk, y'know, saying you were here just to make me-" Jensen breaks off and coughs, gives a slightly awkward smile. "But, you are. Here, I mean. So… just thought I'd come say hi!"
It's weird seeing Jensen go from cheerful and relaxed to mildly tongue-tied in the space of a few sentences. Jared thinks it might be Chad throwing him off because Chad has a tendency to be all cool and dismissive when meeting new people and Jared's ready to give him a bruising kick to the shin. But Chad's actually looking relatively welcoming.
"Hi!" says Jared brightly, doing his best to fill the abrupt and awkward silence. "So… uh, you come here often?"
Chad shoots Jared a disbelieving look and Jared does his best not to cringe and to keep his grin in place. But Jensen smiles slightly and doesn't mock Jared for using such a goddamn cheesy line.
"Yeah, pretty often. I try to pick places I'm not gonna run into anyone I work with, y'know?"
"So running into Jared's a fail then, right?" says Chad. He smiles up at Jensen, sunny but too many teeth bared with it. Jared tenses. It's typical of Chad to try to defend him when Jared really needs it least.
It takes Jensen a moment to catch on. He watches Chad with confused dislike and then realisation dawns and his gaze snaps back to Jared, eyes widening a little and his lips parted.
"I didn't mean you. I wouldn't have come over if I didn't want to see-"
"I know what you meant," Jared assures him. He sneaks a stern look at Chad and Chad huffs at him but holds his hand out to Jensen.
"I'm Chad Murray," he says. "I specialise in playing local bad boys with schmoopy interiors. And apparently I squint."
It's the closest Chad's likely to come to an apology and Jared watches Jensen, desperately hoping he'll take it as such. After a second's hesitation, Jensen shakes Chad's hand and offers a tight but genuine smile.
"Not a local bad boy if he doesn't have a schmoopy interior, right?" Jensen says.
Chris moves up to stand at Jensen's elbow. "Damn fine line between bad boy and misunderstood woobie," says Chris, grinning at Chad, and his expression gains some warmth when he directs it at Jared. He glances at Jensen and says, "Steve's gone home. Says he'll call you tomorrow, all right?"
Jensen nods at him, hesitates, then says, "It's late. You've got an early flight tomorrow. We should-"
As if he hasn't even heard Jensen talking, Chris gestures for Chad to scoot over - which he does with very bad grace - and Chris drops onto the couch opposite Jared. There's nothing Jensen can do other than squeeze in at the table next to Jared. It's well organised because the tight fit means Jensen's thigh is flush with Jared's and Jared only has to reach for his bottle to brush up against him. Unfortunately, it feels just that: organised. It's so not subtle that even Chad is aware of it. Jensen is glaring daggers at Chris and Chris is pretending to be completely oblivious to it and is agreeing that whoever said Chad squints was obviously a blind, inbred moron.
Jensen gives Jared an uncomfortable smile but it smoothes out as Jared grins awkwardly back at him.
"I swear, man," says Jared in a low undertone that Jensen leans in to catch, "we must be frickin' saints not to have murdered 'em already."
"Either that or suckers for punishment," Jensen says. He glances at Chris, watches him get steadily drunker as he talks to Chad, and smiles affectionately. "I reckon I must be working off some serious karma just by knowing him."
"Whatever you did in a past life, I figure I must'a topped it somehow to land up with him," says Jared, jerking his head in Chad's direction. "'Sides," he drawls, lifting his bottle to his lips and looking Jensen in the eyes, "my luck ain't all bad."
:::
As they stagger out of the bar, Chad catches Jensen by the front of his shirt and tells him, in slurred tones, that he guesses Jensen isn't as much of a vapid, snotty prettyboy as Chad thought he was. And while Jared's reeling at both Chad's virtual declaration of approval and his use of the word 'vapid', and watching Jensen thank him sincerely, all Texan good manners, and assure him that Chad's not nearly as much of an ass as Jensen was expecting, Chris takes Jared by the arm and looks him square in the eye.
Jared's expecting his own drunken bonding with Chris but is abruptly unnerved by Chris's relative sobriety.
"Jenny has absolute shit taste in guys. Picks up creeps and psychos wherever he goes. Not you. You're all right, Jared." Chris grins at him, white teeth a flash in the dark blue night of the city. "Don't screw it up."
:::
It’s Friday and Jared’s taking Sandy out tonight so his mind isn’t entirely on the job. This isn’t a huge problem because, currently, the job has him sitting in the car, in the drive of Syl Gottrich’s palatial house in the Hills, waiting.
Syl’s all right. Jared doesn’t have any particular problem with him. He’s an older guy with a lot of white curls and a face like the side of a mountain, but he seems to treat Jensen okay and that’s about as much as Jared can ask for.
Jared’s spent the last hour distractedly doing Sudoku and figuring out where to take Sandy. Part of him thinks he’d really like to try cooking for her, and part of him thinks that he probably shouldn’t because that would be the quickest way to end their relationship. He wants to do something special for her, because she’s incredibly awesome even if he keeps bumping into the verbal block of wanting to talk to her about Jensen and not being able to.
Just as he’s in the middle of considering trying to pass off take-out as his own culinary creation, a cherry red sportscar squeals to a halt beside him. A young guy jumps out of it and nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to get inside the house.
Putting down the book of Sudoku, Jared has a moment of worried indecision. Then, making up his mind, he climbs out of the car and goes inside the house himself. Almost immediately, he knows he’s made the right move because he can hear angry raised voices.
"Fucking bastard! How the fuck could you do this? With a fucking whore!"
"Troy, calm down, just listen…"
There’s a smash of something breaking and Jared starts bounding up the stairs. He follows the sound of the argument and pushes the door standing ajar wide open. It’s kind of chaotic. Jared’s first thought is Jensen and he sees him in the corner of the room, clutching a sheet around his waist, his expression wary and uncertain. There’s china from a shattered vase all across the floor, and Syl is standing amidst it, with only a cushion to cover his crotch. And then there’s the young guy, looking both tearful and enraged.
They all turn to look at Jared and, instinctively, Jared gives a polite, friendly smile.
"Who the fuck are you?" Troy says to him, his voice wobbling and bitter. "Are you with the whore? I want you to take his skanky, diseased ass out of this house, right this fucking second! Do you hear me?"
He emphasises this by grabbing a fistful of the front of Jared’s t-shirt. Jared tries to bat him away, which is a mistake because Troy’s way too wound up, misinterprets it as an attack, and he takes a wild swing at Jared, catching him across the cheekbone. Jared grunts and staggers back a step. Through his briefly blurred vision, he’s aware of Jensen moving quickly to his side.
"Hey! Back the fuck off!" Jensen snaps at Troy.
There’s a confused, hectic moment where Troy’s drawing his fist back to punch Jensen and Jared tries to shove Jensen behind himself, while Syl’s shouting at them all to stop. Before Troy can take his swing, Jared pushes him hard in the chest, just enough to knock him off-balance. Troy stumbles back, gets tangled in the sheets trailing off the bed, and thumps to the floor.
He stares up at Jared, still red-faced with rage.
"I’m gonna call the fucking cops! Gonna have you and your whore-ass friend arrested for prostitution! You think I’m fucking joking?"
Jared takes a careful step towards him, conscious of the light press of Jensen’s fingertips around his bicep, a silent warning to be cautious, and of the hot throb of his cheek. He sees Troy’s eyes widen slightly as he leans over him and doesn’t know whether to be grateful he’s able to come across as intimidating, or unsettled.
"And I’ll press charges for assault," he says, calm and quiet as he can. "We’re going. You wanna talk about this? Talk to Syl."
He waits while Jensen grabs his clothes and dresses. He pretends he’s keeping an eye on Troy whereas really he simply doesn’t want to add to the audience Jensen’s already got. He’s quick about it and they’re out of the house within five minutes. Jensen follows Jared down the stairs and back to the car in silence.
Wasting no time in getting some distance between them and Syl's place, Jared finally risks a glance at Jensen once they're back on the road. The buttons on Jensen's shirt are done up wrongly and his face is pinched.
"You okay?" Jared says.
Jensen flashes him a frustrated half-smile. "Left my fucking sunglasses back there."
"Want me to go back for them?"
There's a pause and Jared isn't sure what to think about the way Jensen's looking at him. Like he's not clear if Jared's making a joke or not. Then he shakes his head and looks away.
"No. Thanks. Got other pairs at home. Just… I liked them." He sighs and then laughs shortly. "How was that for exciting then?"
"That was pretty cool, yeah," Jared agrees. He's still feeling the aching pulse of where Troy punched him. "That's Syl's son then?"
"Try boyfriend," says Jensen, his voice darkly amused.
"Oh," says Jared. "Awkward."
"Yeah. Still, at least I don't have to worry about the wife, her complete disinterest in Syl's sex-life is how they've stayed married so long, so I hear."
Something tickles Jared's cheek and he swipes at it, then he frowns as his fingers come away bloody. He swears under his breath but Jensen catches it and looks over at him, sees the blood on his fingertips.
"Shit, you're bleeding," says Jensen. "Pull over, let me look at you."
"It's fine," says Jared. "Honestly."
It feels kind of stupid to be making a big deal of it. Blood is trickling in a sluggish line down his cheek but the sting is duller now.
"Jared, you're bleeding-" Jensen starts but Jared cuts him off with a quick shake of his head.
"C'mon, man. It's nothing." He flicks a sidelong look at Jensen and grins. "Quit worrying. I'm totally safe to drive."
Jensen doesn't look convinced, but he lets it go, at least until they've arrived back at his place.
"Come on in," he says. "I'll fix that for you."
Jared's gut reaction is to tell Jensen, yet again, that it's really no big deal, and any fixing up that's required, Jared can take care of himself. But there's something in Jensen's tone, something about the set of his face, which prompts Jared to say, "Thanks, man," instead.
As he lets Jensen sit him down on the couch and fuss over cotton balls and antiseptic cream, Jared can all but see the thought processes going on in Jensen's head. He can see them in the tightness of Jensen's brow, the fuller, unconscious pout of his lips.
So he's not at all surprised when, eventually, Jensen gets around to saying, "Fuck, man. I'm really sorry."
Jensen's leaning in close in order to get at the broken skin. It stings a little when he touches it, but Jared's easily distracted by the up-close and personal view he's getting of Jensen's freckles and Jensen's eyes, which are crazily green, and Jensen's eyelashes, which should be ridiculous - because guys just don't have lashes that long and dark - but aren't.
He realises that maybe he should have said something by now.
"Totally not your fault," he says.
They're still so close that when Jensen's gaze flickers to meet his, the moment is charged, inescapably intimate. Jared thinks of how they almost kissed. He wonders if Jensen's thinking about it too. If he were to move his mouth just an inch or so to the side, he could press his lips to Jensen's.
He lets out a small sigh and breaks eye contact.
"Sorry, that's gonna be one hell of a bruise," says Jensen, normal and light.
"It'll the impress the girls, right?" Jared says. He grins, but it dies abruptly. "Shit. I'm seeing Sandy tonight. What the fuck am I gonna tell her?"
Jensen draws back, busies himself with tidying away the cotton balls and screwing the cap back on the antiseptic. He shrugs and then looks back up at Jared, his expression open and concerned.
"Just some random jerk?" he suggests.
Jared makes a non-committal noise and sighs. "Hmm, maybe."
"Sorry," says Jensen again.
"Really," says Jared. "Not your fault."
:::
On seeing Jared, Sandy's first words are, "Oh my God! What happened?"
Jared hadn't thought it looked as bad as all that. He taps his fingers gingerly to the cut, and gives a sheepish shrug.
"It's hard to coordinate limbs this long, all right?" he says, flailing his arms around. "I'm kinda clumsy."
Catching hold of his hand, Sandy leads him inside her place and sits him down on the couch. Her face is scrunched up with concern, which is an oddly cute look for her, and her gaze hasn't wavered from Jared's cheek. She sits down next to him and, after a long moment's further scrutiny, she bites her lip.
"Looks like someone punched you," she says finally.
Her mouth tightens and she raises an eyebrow at Jared. Feeling trapped, Jared shrugs again.
"I'm kinda blind too, don't always notice where people's fists are in relation to my face."
Sandy sighs, short and unhappy. A quick glance to ask Jared's permission, and then Sandy traces the line of swollen, broken skin with a fingertip. He holds still until she leans back, her hands knotted in her lap.
"Things got kind of crazy at work," Jared says, before she has chance to ask again. "It was nothing, seriously. Just some guy with a temper, and I got in the way, and... It's all over now."
She doesn't look convinced but Jared doesn't know what else he can tell her. He watches her nervously, waiting for some kind of response from her. Finally, she looks back up at him. There's a shrewd look in her eyes that Jared's really pretty uncomfortable about. She's way too smart sometimes.
"What about the guy you were driving around? He get involved?"
Jared laughs and shakes his head.
"It's kind of my job to keep him out of trouble."
"So he just let you get punched? Just hid behind you?" Sandy says, a frown heavy on her face. "Nice guy you're working for."
"No, no, no!" Jared says. "No, he tried to get involved, but I didn't want him to. Sandy, this isn't his fault."
Her expression remains dubious and it rankles at Jared that she's thinking badly of Jensen, even though he knows she doesn't have the details, and that she's not thinking of Jensen, but of the nameless, faceless guy Jared works for. There doesn't seem to be anything he can say though, to reassure her that Jensen's not what she thinks he is. Not without making it clear just how awesome Jared thinks he is.
Finally she relents a little, but there's still some dissatisfaction in her eyes as she looks at the split skin.
"You need some ice on that?" she says.
"I'm good," says Jared. "But thanks." He pauses, then tries a grin on her. "Does it make me look tough?"
A smile tugs at Sandy's lips and she gives in to it with bad grace, huffing and rolling her eyes. Then she leans up and Jared's grin broadens as he feels her drop the faintest of kisses to his aching cheek.
"It's very manly," she tells him, as straight-faced as she can.
:::
It doesn't take long for the bruise to fade. Every morning for the next three days, just before Jared shaves, he takes a moment to study its progress in the bathroom mirror. There's an odd kind of pride in it, seeing it there on his skin.
Maybe Jensen would have handled the situation better without Jared's intervention, but maybe, that bruise would be sitting on Jensen's cheek right now.
Jared's kind of disappointed when, on the fourth day, the bruise is nothing but a pale, yellowish-green shadow.
:::
At midday, Jensen has just finished an appointment with Quentin and Jared's belly is loudly voicing its anticipation of lunch. He tucks his Sudoku away as Jensen draws near, and gets to his feet. Jensen looks surprisingly pleased with himself and Jared is trying not to read too much into that when Jensen thrusts a thick wedge of paper at him.
"Here," he says. "Got this for you."
Looking at it blankly, it takes Jared a moment to realise exactly what it is. It's a script. He looks back up at Jensen, who's still beaming at him a little smugly. Jared looks back at the script, flips it open and lets the pages flicker by in a blur of dialogue and directions.
"Where did you-" he starts to say.
"I've been listening out for anything I thought you might find interesting," says Jensen. "And then I heard about this and it sounded pretty you so I asked Quentin to get hold of a script for me." He gives Jared a serious, sincere look. "Don’t worry, he's not connected to the project. But…" The grin creeps back onto Jensen's face as if he can't be parted from it for long. "Auditions are next week and I've already taken care of the casting couch."
Jared shoots him a horrified look and Jensen flushes and shrugs, the grin finally sliding off his face and staying gone. "That was a joke," he says lamely.
"Really not a very funny one." He smoothes his hand over the front of the script, over the stark black print on the white paper. "But, seriously, man, this is… this is really awesome of you."
"Yes it is," Jensen agrees very solemnly. "But buying me lunch will go a long way to expressing your gratitude to me."
:::
The script Jensen's found for him is for a pilot TV show about a fallen angel trying to earn redemption by helping humanity whilst fending off demonic attempts to drag him back to Hell. It's got the elements of more than a few successful shows thrown in but has managed to be faintly original with it. The writing's kind of cheesy but the plot doesn't suck and Jared likes the characters. He thought it was the spunky cop sidekick Jensen had him going for and it took a while to sink in that Jensen was suggesting he try for the starring role. He's still not sure about that. He's not sure he can pull off the necessary laconic attitude or silent, charismatic presence.
"Seriously?" says Jensen, when Jared tries to voice these concerns. "Jared, you're completely capable of being a badass motherfucker. Just… try not to be a puppy at the same time."
"Maybe I should go for the cop instead. I think I'd have a better chance with-"
"No. Go for the fallen angel guy." Jensen shoots him a wicked grin. "Don't make me escort you into the auditions, Jay."
Jared spends the next two nights learning lines. He warms to Azrael, but studies Officer Gabe Rivers' part too, though he doesn't mention that to Jensen. Either part would be pretty damn sweet. The next day he tosses the script back to Jensen so they can run lines between appointments.
"They don’t think you're a threat," says Jared, eyes still on the road even if he's trying to put himself there, on a skyscraper at night, with unearthly forces thick in the air, with stakes so high that he'll be feeling a loss for an eternity. "They think you're beneath their notice."
"Then how do I get their attention?" Jensen shoots back, angry and exasperated.
"Being seen with me is a good way to start."
"Fine, I'll be your new best buddy."
Jared pauses, takes a breath. Understands how it feels to try talking sense to someone who just doesn't get it. "You'd be dead within the week," he says, weary.
"I've been a cop for five years, I think I can take care of myself."
"No. Not against this. And it'd be pathetic watching you try. You've no idea how fragile you are, have you? No idea how easily you break. Taking you apart, it's like popping bubble-wrap. It's fun and easy and addictive. I know it's wrong, I know it is, but I know how good it feels. I'd like to see them hurt you. Get away from here before I decide just how much I'd like it."
"No," says Jensen, soft and stubborn at once. "No. You saved me. Saved that girl. You can't tell me you're like them. I-"
"You want me to show you just how like them I am?" The words come swift and venomous, and Jensen looks up at him, eyes wide. Jared flushes and falters, adjust his grip on the steering wheel, his palms abruptly sweaty. "What? Too much?"
Jensen goes on staring at him, still with that wide-eyed look. Finally he shakes his head and looks back down at the script, curled open in his lap, ready for prompting Jared if he needs it, which he hasn't done in a few days.
"You're good," he says.
"Could you try to sound less surprised?" Jared says, laughing a little even as he flushes a brighter red.
"No. I mean… I knew you'd be good," says Jensen. His eyes narrow a little as he studies Jared. "I just didn't think you'd be good. Seriously, what the hell are you doing in this job?"
"I could ask you the same thing, y'know. You're really… also good. Maybe you should come to the audition with me." Jensen laughs and shakes his head, and Jared cocks his head at him. "C'mon, why not?"
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." When Jared goes on looking at him, waiting for further explanation, Jensen shakes his head again and sounds absolutely convinced when he speaks. "Too many people know… what I do. It'd be the casting couch for me with every single audition. I'm not doing that."
"No way. You're too good for that. You'd get it because you deserve it. Because you're good enough."
Jensen isn't swayed. Jared can see it in his body language even before he speaks.
"Well, you give me a call when you're in charge of casting and I might come along. Until then, I'll sit it out, thanks."
:::
"He's pushing you at acting jobs?" says Chad.
"Better than my own agent," says Jared, feeling a little smug.
It abruptly gets a lot easier to kick Chad's ass at Madden. Jared figures out why when he looks at Chad and sees his hands slack around the controller. Chad's looking at him with a doubtful expression.
"And you're happy about this why?" Chad says.
Jared frowns. This sounds like it's got to be a trick question because even Chad's got to be smart enough to figure it out for himself. "Because it's very thoughtful of him and I've got a real chance at this audition he found for me."
Chad rubs his forehead and Jared gets uneasy and wonders what he's missing. Chad throws his controller down and turns around on the couch to face Jared. He speaks with the kind of restraint that makes it clear he thinks Jared's a moron and it's only a very humane pity for his stupidity that's keeping Chad telling Jared about it.
"Okay, so, work with me here. You go to the audition, you get the part… then?"
"Uh… Profit?" Jared ventures. Chad's expression tells him it's the wrong answer so he tries, "I win an Emmy?"
"Way, way, way before that ever happens?" Chad says. At Jared's blank look, he supplies the answer. "You take the part and… you don't work with Jensen anymore. Jensen's plan has you not spending so much, if any, time with him anymore. So, c'mon genius, tell me again why you're happy about this?"
:::
Sometimes Chad makes very good points. It doesn't happen often but when it does it tends to gnaw at Jared. The longer he thinks about it, the harder it is to ignore the possibility that Jensen is trying to get rid of him. It makes it hard to concentrate on running lines when all he can think is that however much Jensen seems to like him, he doesn't like him enough to want to keep him around.
By the time the audition rolls round, Jared has given up considering whether he should simply refuse to go to the audition simply to spite Jensen. If Jensen wants him gone, then Jared's not going to fight to stay in his life. He has enough self-respect for that. But apparently not enough to keep himself from bitching about it.
"Look, I know it's not like you can help it," says Jensen, "but worrying about it's pointless. You're awesome and this would be a great part for you. But if it doesn't play out, then… their loss. It won't be the end of the frickin' world, right?"
"Sure. You're not gonna give up 'til you've got me out of this and into some acting job," says Jared, only it comes out sharper than he intended it to. He flushes and keeps his gaze on his plate, pushing his food around with his fork, while Jensen's gaze on him prickles his skin. The couple at the next table have stopped their conversation and are looking in their direction, sensing the tension.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jensen says, his tone neutral but strained. "Jeez, would you look at me?"
Jared lifts his eyes to Jensen's face and very much regrets saying anything. Jensen looks confused and uneasy, and Jared's gaze catches on the fading, red graze along his neck, down the fair skin below his ear, from the appointment earlier in the morning. He takes his sunglasses off and looks through the midday sun at Jared.
"You're pissed at me," he says, after a moment. "What've I done?"
"No," says Jared. "Nothing. You haven’t done anything. It's me…"
"It's not you, it's me," mimics Jensen, not altogether unkindly. "There's a speech I haven’t heard in a while. So come on, what's not me?"
The cheese and bacon sub Jared had for lunch is sitting badly in his stomach and he shifts in his seat, aware of Jensen tracking his every move. Finally, he takes a deep breath and goes for it.
"I want you to bear in mind that this sounded a lot less like a twelve-year old girl in my head but I'm kind of wondering why you're trying so hard to get me an acting gig and I'm also wondering, and this is really the twelve-year old girl bit, but I'm wondering if you're trying to get rid of me."
Despite it sounding really pathetic, Jared's glad he said it because Jensen's immediate reaction to it proves just how wrong Chad and, by extension, Jared was. Jared should have known it really because Chad is wrong a staggeringly high proportion of the time.
"You think I'm trying to get rid of you? Okay, Jared, I think that's actually a little paranoid even for a twelve-year old girl. Of course I'm not trying to get rid of you! I'm trying to help you! Trying to get you a better job than this!"
"Well, if you are gonna try to get rid of me, you don't need to go to this trouble, dude," Jared says earnestly. "It's all right for you to just say Hey, man, this has been awesome but I don't think it's working out…"
"What are you, the king of break-up speeches or something?" Jensen interrupts.
Jared ignores him and goes on with, "-and I'd be fine with that and we'd both explain to Sam that-"
"Wait," says Jensen, holding up a hand and looking more peeved than he has the entire conversation. "You're telling me you'd be fine with me basically telling you to get lost? You wouldn't try to argue me round or anything? You wouldn't care enough to…? You'd just… go? Is that what you're saying?"
"Well, yeah," says Jared and blinks at how tight and irritable that makes Jensen's expression go. "C'mon, how much fun would it be spending as much time together as we do, with someone who doesn't want you there? You'd expect me to, what? Try to persuade you how awesome I am really? Nup, if you can't see that for yourself then…" He trails off and coaxes a grin from Jensen.
"I've changed my mind. I'm thinking trying to get rid of you sounds like a mighty fine plan, Padalecki."
part five
There should be some kind of law about Jared getting woken up before his alarm goes off. The sunlight is just starting to edge around his drapes when his cellphone goes. His eyes feel puffy and he could really do with another hour or so of sleep. In fact, while he's asking for it, make that twenty-four freaking hours of solid sleep.
He manages to swipe the glass of water by his bed onto the floor as he fumbles blindly around on the nightstand for his humming cellphone.
He flops over onto his back, pushes the phone in the general direction of his ear, and says, "Whuh?"
"Hey, baby," says Melanie. "Good news! Jensen's called in sick so you get the day off. Make sure you say thank you to him when he's back on his feet, yeah? Oh and what do you think? Bubbles or disposable cameras on the wedding guests' tables? Ben says cameras but c'mon? Seventy-five people taking pictures of me when I least expect it? How is my self-esteem supposed to survive that?"
"Yeah. Bubbles. Awesome."
Jared ends the call and tries to go back to sleep.
:::
Twenty minutes later, he's on the phone to his mom, trying to get the recipe for her chicken soup.
:::
"No no no," says Jensen, shaking his head as if the sight of Jared standing on his doorstep is just too painful to be true. "I'm sick. Not going anywhere. No appointments. No one wants to fuck a guy who's sweaty and smells like puke."
"I dunno," says Jared as he shoulders his way past him into the house. "You can find some crazy fetishes on the 'net. Like, there are these guys who get off on women in high heels getting their cars stuck in mud. Just that. No boobs or sex or anything. Just… cars. Cars stuck in mud and women in high heels who can't get the cars out of the mud."
Jensen stares after him, door still standing open, while Jared heads off to the kitchen. Jared looks back at him and frowns.
"C'mon. I have soup."
Jensen makes a pitiable little noise and closes the door. He pads on bare feet down the corridor after Jared and watches him go through his cupboards. He looks adorably sleep-ruffled, even if he smells rank. There are red lines marked out on his cheek from where his face has been pressed against the creases on the pillow case. His pyjama bottoms are faded green cotton and hang low on his hips and Jared gets the urge again to just pin him down and gnaw on his hipbones until they're all bruised and spit-slippery. Which should probably wait until Jared's sure Jensen's not infectious.
"You don't have to do this, man," Jensen says. He moves closer and sniffs at the soup Jared is reheating for him. "You really didn't have to buy me soup."
Jared looks up at him and grins. "I didn't buy it. I made it. With my own two hands and my momma's recipe."
Jensen stares at him for so long that Jared starts to think he's fazed out. Passed out on his feet maybe. But his gaze is too intently focused on Jared. His expression is unreadable.
"You made me soup," he says finally.
He's so completely unreadable that uneasiness creeps in over Jared's cheerfulness. He wonders if maybe he's made some huge social faux pas. Like maybe Sam forgot to tell him that it's incredibly bad manners to take chicken soup to a prostitute when he's ill. There are probably hundreds of other important little rules about this kind of thing that Sam hasn't passed on.
"Don’t you like soup? I swear, it's totally edible, man. I mean, I think it is. I haven't made soup before but it smells good and I was really careful about writing the recipe down right."
Jensen snaps back to himself and smiles as if he can't help it, directing it abruptly down at the ground. He scrapes his fingers through his hair and a flush sweeps over his cheeks. He lets out a small huff of breath in something like a bewildered laugh.
"Do you need to sit down?" Jared says, moving over to his side, hands hovering uselessly around him because he knows Jensen won't take kindly to manhandling but he seriously does look to be in need of some. He tries to cover up his concern with teasing but it doesn't exactly ring true. "It's okay. I was surprised when I found out I could cook, too. It'll pass."
It's right then that Jensen's knees give out, buckling beneath him. Jared scoops him back upright and his arm stays curled around Jensen, holding him against his chest while Jensen sways and shivers. There's a sudden silence, a slowing down, as Jensen tilts his face up to Jared, lips parted and eyes bright with something like terror. And Jared knows that there are precisely five seconds between this moment and the moment he kisses Jensen.
And he really really wants to just grab ahold of Jensen and kiss him to within an inch of his life. Which, with his current state, won't really be all that hard.
Somehow, he doesn't and the moment drifts away, untouched, and then Jensen slaps him irritably in the chest.
"Get the fuck off me. I'm gonna puke." He stumbles off in the direction of the bathroom. "Your goddamn soup's making me nauseous."
Jared puts his energies into being offended by the soup comment because it's easier than freaking the hell out over the fact he just had an armful of Ackles and that the reason he didn't kiss him had a hell of a lot less to do with Jensen being sickly than it should have. To be honest, he's not exactly sure why he didn't because he really really really wanted to.
And then, because it's hard to still be offended about the soup comment when Jensen comes back and demands a bowlful of it, Jared concentrates on settling him down on the couch and finding something for him to watch on the TV and hunting around for a blanket to wrap him up in. Jensen accepts it all with very bad grace but gruffly informs Jared that whatever is left over of the soup is his and Jared can't have any of it. Which makes Jared secretly feel very proud indeed.
When Jensen falls asleep in the afternoon - an old rerun of Quincy showing silently on TV - Jared puts his bowl in the dishwasher and makes himself some coffee. It's strange being in Jensen's kitchen with the house so utterly silent. As he stirs his coffee, he looks over the room and wonders where Jensen got the single magnet (a tacky Las Vegas souvenir) stuck to his fridge. There are a few clean but clearly well-used pans in one of the cabinets and Jared wonders if Jensen bought them himself or if his mother gave them to him when he left home.
It's feels bizarrely personal for Jared to be standing alone in Jensen's kitchen, while Jensen sleeps on the couch. A rush of gratitude and delight for being trusted in this way warms Jared all the way through.
Going back to the livingroom, he sits on the floor with his back against the couch and listens to Jensen breathe and the clock tick and the faraway hum of suburban traffic.
There's a peacefulness to sitting there like that and Jared watches the TV without really taking any of it in. He tunes in to the mute serenity of the pale peach afternoon and grins to himself, tilts his head back to rest against the couch cushion, and allows himself to catch up on his own sleep.
:::
Someone is leaning on the doorbell. Jensen is making unhappy, snuffly noises about it, still mostly asleep, and Jared feels like his head is full of cotton balls. He staggers to his feet and notes that Quincy is no longer on TV and has been replaced with some fluffy, dancing puppets with horrifyingly gaping mouths.
The doorbell is still buzzing loudly when Jared snaps the door wide and gets ready to punch out who-the-fuck-ever ruined his nap.
The guy looks back at him and then slings his bag into the house, just past Jared's ankles.
"And who the hell are you?" the guy demands, lazy but unimpressed, like Jared was the one waking people up with inconsiderate doorbelling when decent people were asleep.
The answer is apparently not all that important because the guy doesn't wait for it before he moves to step past Jared into the house. Not that he has much luck. Jared's not an aggressive type, but he's damn stubborn and when he's not moving, no one else is either. The guy tries pushing past and then has to stop because he's not getting anywhere and it's going to look embarrassing for him soon. He looks up at Jared and raises an eyebrow.
"Where's Jensen?"
"Right here," says Jensen, moving out into the corridor. He's still groggy but he's walking unaided and only very subtly propping himself up against the wall.
"Jenny!" says the guy. Then he stops and studies him, eyes widening. "Christ, you got ten miles of bad road right there! What the hell happened to you?"
"You can fuck right off if you're gonna be mean to me, Chris." The mild way in which it's said suggests Jensen isn't all that offended and from the way Chris is grinning, he's not taking any offence either. Reluctantly, Jared takes a step back and allows Chris inside the house.
"Cute watchdog you got here, Jen. He got a name? I don't see a collar." He sticks his hand out to Jared, smirking, and Jared wonders if the reason Jensen was so unaffected by Jared's best friend being a douche was because the situation was all too familiar.
"I'm Jared," he says, shaking Chris's hand, and is unprepared for the sudden, significant look Chris shoots Jensen, his smirk growing even wider.
"I'm sick," Jensen snaps. "He made me soup. And get that goddamn look off your face, Chris." He executes an awkward turn, swapping one shoulder resting against the wall for the other and then heads back towards the couch. "There are puppets on my TV," he mutters and Jared's not sure if this is meant as a good thing or a bad one.
Chris is still watching Jared. Still smirking too.
"You made him soup?" he says finally and in Chris's Oklahoma drawl it sounds like a euphemism for something absolutely filthy.
"And now I'm making coffee," Jared says, turning away to the kitchen before Chris can catch his flush.
But Chris seems to be coming with him and just fucking sits himself down on one of the breakfast bar stools and goes right on watching. Jared sets about making two cups of coffee, not bothering to ask if Chris wants one or not because he's going to get one and Jared doesn't dare risk starting any kind of conversation with him, not even about coffee.
Eventually, Chris seems to take pity on Jared and the smirk fades slightly. There's a new intensity in the way he watches Jared, which is somehow even more unnerving.
"Jen's a godawful judge of character," says Chris seriously and Jared's gaze snaps to him, ready to argue if that's what Chris wants. But his expression is neutral and he adds, "I'm guessing you know that. I'm also gonna guess you were as surprised to have me turn up as I was to find you here."
Stirring the mugs slowly, Jared nods and prepares to reconsider whether Chris is a douche of Chad proportions or merely a regular issue one. Maybe an epic douche when he feels the situation calls for it and just a smug, mildly douchey type the rest of the time. And yeah, if Jared thinks about it, knowing Jensen and his completely awful life-choices, then Jared would be concerned about finding some random joe in his house too.
"So you're his babysitter then?" Chris says. "How's that going?"
"Uh… interestingly?" Jared offers, then laughs at the answering grin on Chris's lips. "Yeah, it's all right, mostly."
"Is that coffee?" Jensen shouts from the other room. "It is! I can smell it!"
"Not for you!" Jared shouts back. "You're sick and you don't wanna be puking up coffee-flavoured vomit! Trust me!"
He realises Chris is watching him and feels awkward about bossing Jensen around in front of one of his friends. Maybe it's Chris's job to take charge of Jensen when he tries to do stupid things. But then, it's not exactly as if Jensen listens all that attentively when people try to save him from himself. Jared scratches his head and shoves Chris's cup of coffee towards him.
"Really, coffee-vomit has to be gross, right?" Jared says.
"Good of you to consider his vomit so carefully," Chris says solemnly and Jared grins. "Most people don’t show that kind of care."
"I want coffee," Jensen shouts, no doubt having spent the last few minutes considering Jared's refusal.
"I think he's feeling better," says Jared. "If his lungpower is anything to go by."
:::
When Jared leaves, Jensen tries to arrange a pick-up time with him for tomorrow morning because he's sure he'll be well enough to see clients. Jared assures him that he's going to damn well take it easy for a few days. Jensen argues this point with a fierce stubbornness that does actually leave Jared wondering if Jensen might in fact be well enough. However, he ruins it all by regurgitating chicken soup over Chris's feet and Jared ends the discussion by threatening to call Sam.
Grimacing in disgust, Chris pries his boots off and ushers Jared out the front door.
"Quit fretting, boy," he says. "I'll make sure your baby gets his bed-rest."
:::
Apparently Chris is staying for a while because even after Jensen's better, the next couple of days when Jared comes to collect Jensen for appointments, he ends up having to share his breakfast with the man. While Jared does his best to wolf down as much of what's on his plate as he can manage, Chris - usually still sitting around in his shorts - teases Jensen around his mouthfuls of stolen food about making himself all pretty for the paying customers and Jensen flushes and scowls and flips Chris off.
Chris waves them off at the door, squinting in the sunlight, and then disappears back inside. More than once, when Jared and Jensen come back in the evening, Chris is still in his shorts and nothing else.
"What does he do all day?" Jared says.
"Well it sure as hell ain't the dishes or the vacuuming," Jensen grumbles. He sighs and scratches at his jaw, skin still fresh and glowing from his morning shave. "Ah, it's just how he is. He'll be here for a week or so then he'll take off and I won't see him again for months. Might get a postcard from Cairo or Riga or somewhere. Or hear one of his songs on the radio." He flashes Jared a smile and says, "If he wants temporary residence of my couch, it's the least I can do, right?"
"You two been friends long?"
"Since I came out here, pretty much. Chris and Steve helped me find a place to live and stuff like that," says Jensen. He smiles at the memory but it fades, becoming a small, unhappy curl of his lips. "Chris tried to get me some options when the acting didn't work out."
Jared glances away from the road for a second when Jensen falls silent. He thinks that Jensen is deliberately looking in the other direction. The morning sunlight is hazy with smog today and it turns Jensen's skin to gold. It makes him impossibly perfect, which makes the situation in all its fucked-up glory, even more surreal.
"None of those options play out?" Jared says finally.
Still not turning to look at him, Jensen gives a half-hearted shrug.
"Doing this just… I dunno. Started to feel like a foregone conclusion."
It startles a laugh out of Jared, which quickly becomes a belly-deep guffaw. He tries to get a handle on it because Jensen gives him a pretty irritable look, one eyebrow raised in a haughty arch. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jared swallows and tries to regain his composure, mostly successfully.
"Foregone conclusion because you're just that fuckable?" he says, eyes bright with glee.
A flush colors Jensen's cheeks then and he grins, both embarrassed and amused. He shakes his head and makes a few noises that could be the beginning of a protest or justification. Then he gives up and settles for pulling a face at Jared.
"Just too damn pretty for regular work," says Jared, because somehow he's unable to resist teasing Jensen when he gets all flushed and spluttery. "It all starts to make sense."
:::
On Friday, they finish at 4pm and Jensen goes straight back to his because it's Chris's last day and Jared gets the impression that they have plans. By now, Jared has warmed enough to Chris that he's going to be sorry to see him go, even if he's very much looking forward to not having Chris pick things off his plate every morning. Still, theft of breakfast and candy aside, it's good having Chris around because he doesn't allow Jensen to go all quiet and introverted.
Once he's dropped Jensen home, Jared realises that he doesn't have plans and would kind of like them, considering he's 24 and this is a weekend in L.A. He considers calling Sandy, but ends up calling Chad instead and between them, they come up with an awesome plan involving a shitload of alcohol and as many bars as they can make it to before the aforementioned shitload of alcohol turns the bones in their legs to the consistency of gummi bears.
It all goes wrong pretty early on. The first bar they go to is playing the music - some skull-slapping dance trash - at deafening levels but Chad is determined to tell Jared about the result of his recent audition, so the conversation ends up going something like:
"This is a hint!" Chad says, leaning in over his drink towards Jared.
"About what?" Jared says, hunching down towards him.
"What?" Chad says.
"What's a hint?" says Jared, heroically trying again.
Chad shakes his head and shrugs, expression aggravated. "What the fuck, man? I don't know! What is a hint?"
"You said: This is a hint," says Jared as he desperately clings on to the shreds of his sanity. "I'm saying: what is a hint?"
Chad stares at him for a second then clenches his teeth. He grabs Jared by the back of the neck and drags him down until his mouth is pressed to Jared's ear. His breath's kind of tickly and Jared laughs and tries to squirm away.
"I said," Chad bellows in his ear, "'They said I squint!'"
Which just makes Jared dissolve into laughter. Chad hauls him out of the bar, down the street and into a quieter bar. Slinging Jared in the general direction of an empty table in the corner, Chad stalks off to get the drinks. The seats are comfortably squishy and Jared settles in for the long haul. It's not a bar he's been in before and he discovers he greatly appreciates the reduction in noise level and the more sedate behavior of the customers, and he hopes these two revelations aren't indications that he's getting old.
He's already contentedly feeling the cloud of alcohol smother his brain but Jared thinks he could quite happily be drunker yet. He looks over at the bar, intending to tell Chad to make his whatever-it-is Chad's ordering for him a double, and then has to stop.
Chad is standing right next to Chris. By logical extension, even Jared's fogged-up head can work out that if Chris is in the bar then the chances are that Jensen is also here somewhere.
He's not sure if that's the best news he's had all night or whether he's going to puke. Quite possibly both because, good or bad, Jensen being in the same bar as Chad could well be too exciting for Jared's stomach to handle. Carefully, he leans forward to get a better view and sees Jensen almost right away. Jensen is with some guy Jared doesn’t know at a table that's already pretty loaded down with empty glasses. Jensen is pretty obviously having a good time. He's animated, bright with laughter, his posture's loose and uninhibited, all his natural restraint fallen away.
Jared thinks it's just about the most awesome thing he's ever seen and the brief second of being peeved that it's someone other than Jared making Jensen let go like that and cheerfully act like a dork can't stand against the fact Jensen looks happy.
It's hard to stop watching but Jared can't take the risk of Jensen looking in his direction and seeing Jared staring at him like some kind of obsessed stalker. So he slumps back in his chair and waits for Chad. He's not sure whether to mention it to Chad or not. He's not entirely sure he can trust Chad not to do something completely humiliating - like he usually does - like go over there and announce Jared's kinda-sorta crush on Jensen to him. Or maybe he might not even go to the trouble of going over there; he might just shout it across the bar.
"What are you grinning about?" says Chad when he returns to the table. He squints at Jared, assessing him. "You look like you've taken something. Have you taken something, man? And is it good shit? 'Cause if it is you know you gotta share, right?"
"No, I haven’t taken anything. I don't take anything, you know that."
"You smoked pot that time at Mike's," says Chad. "Couple of times."
"Yeah, all right but…" Jared gestures around in frustration. "You see a bong here, man?" Chad opens his mouth to argue about it some more and Jared makes his decision. "Right, keep your mouth shut but… see the guy over at the table there, the guy in the black shirt?"
Jared winces as Chad doesn’t bother being surreptitious about looking over in Jensen's direction and saying, "Which guy? Dude, I count at least five guys in black shirts. Wanna be more specific?"
"The really hot guy in the black shirt," Jared hisses. Chad shoots Jared a sceptical look and, greatly daring, Jared jabs a finger at Jensen. "That guy."
"What about him?" says Chad. He's fairly obviously losing whatever interest he had in the first place.
"That's Jensen," says Jared. And then he has to grab Chad's face, smooshing it in the process, and jerk it back towards him because Chad totally fails at ninja-stealth observation. Eventually Jared has to let Chad go because his mouth looks funny smooshed up like that and people are starting to give them looks. Slowly and with a greater degree of subtlety, Chad tilts his face back to look at Jensen.
"Okay," says Chad after a long moment's scrutiny.
"Well?" says Jared.
Chad looks back at him and shrugs.
"Seriously? I was expecting someone hotter."
Jared's jaw drops. For someone hotter than Jensen to exist goes against the laws of physics. There would be nuclear explosions every time they smiled. Or, okay, maybe Jared's exaggerating - though not by much - but Jensen is just about as hot as anyone can reasonably - and even slightly unreasonably - expect to be. Especially when he's happy and goes from hot to fucking gorgeous. In the face of Jared's obvious disbelief, Chad just shrugs again and takes a mouthful of beer.
"I wouldn't fuck him," he says.
"Of course you wouldn't fuck him!" Jared says, spluttering a little in his vehemence. "You're straight!"
Chad still doesn't seem to have grasped the extent of his crazy-ass weirdness in not finding Jensen hot enough. It goes damn well near heresy as far as Jared's concerned but Chad just takes another look at Jensen and shrugs again.
"I dunno. Way you go on about him I was expecting to turn gay just looking at him. But… no. Maybe if he had a pussy under those jeans…" Chad trails off, considering this possibility. Then he shakes his head again. "Nah, he'd need tits as well. And a shave. In fact, screw that, only one place my ladies should need to regularly shave. Underarms and legs too though, not big on hairy women. No, man, totally not interested."
It takes Jared a moment to recover his voice. He's still feeling a little dazed but manages to get a good degree of his equilibrium back by half-draining his bottle.
"Well, that's just fine," he drawls finally. "'Cause I was real worried about you makin' a play for Jen and all. Guess I'm still in with a chance myself then, right?"
"Hey, lemme tell you: if I was interested in his ass, you can bet I wouldn't be pussying around about it like you are."
As far as Jared is concerned, it's totally unfair for Chad to say that Jared is 'pussying around'. He still feels he's completely out of his depth and isn't even entirely sure what it is he wants from Jensen. Besides, he likes Jensen, as a friend, and any desire Jared may have for a lot of completely filthy sex with him or, even more tellingly, the opportunity to kiss each and every one of his damn freckles, is more than capable of screwing their relationship up beyond repair. There are more than enough people in Jensen's life who want to fuck him; Jared wants to be more to him than that, likes being his friend. Nothing, not even the chance to fuck Jensen through the mattress, is worth jeopardising that.
He hasn't told Chad about the near miss when Jensen was sick, when Jared had Jensen pulled up close with his arms around him, and there had almost been a kiss. Chad wouldn't understand the lack of penetrative sex immediately afterwards and he definitely wouldn't understand why Jared hadn't followed through.
Jared's thought about it a lot since then. An embarrassing amount of time has been spent trying to figure out why he didn't kiss Jensen. And he thinks it comes down to the fact that Jensen would have let Jared kiss him, and that's enough. That's the kind of thought that should be nothing but somehow manages to be provocative enough to catch the attention of Jared's cock.
Chad glances back over in Jensen's direction. "So, you wanna go over and say 'hi'?"
Jared considers it, still stung by Chad's comment, and then shakes his head. Chad rolls his eyes and looks back at him, "You wanna go someplace else, then?" Jared shakes his head again, dismissing the option as too juvenile. Chad sighs and takes another mouthful of beer. "Think you should do something. 'Cause he's coming over here."
Jared snaps bolt upright in his place, sloshing beer over the tabletop, the bubbles fizzing and crackling against the metal. He has a sudden panic about how wrecked he must look because he hadn't exactly been dressing to impress and the L.A. heat is heavy on him and combined with the burn of alcohol, he must look red and sweaty. They're not concerns he can voice to Chad for reassurance because asking Chad do I look okay? will give the guy material for the next six months. And, from the set of his face and the slouch of his shoulders, Chad is apparently determined not to act like he has the slightest interest in so much as Jensen's existence.
"Don’t be a dick, please don’t be a dick," Jared hisses at him, eyes wide and pleading. Then he straightens up and grins as Jensen moves into sight.
"Hey," says Jensen. "Chris said you were over here! I'd'a come over sooner but it took me a while to work out that he wasn't just being a jerk, y'know, saying you were here just to make me-" Jensen breaks off and coughs, gives a slightly awkward smile. "But, you are. Here, I mean. So… just thought I'd come say hi!"
It's weird seeing Jensen go from cheerful and relaxed to mildly tongue-tied in the space of a few sentences. Jared thinks it might be Chad throwing him off because Chad has a tendency to be all cool and dismissive when meeting new people and Jared's ready to give him a bruising kick to the shin. But Chad's actually looking relatively welcoming.
"Hi!" says Jared brightly, doing his best to fill the abrupt and awkward silence. "So… uh, you come here often?"
Chad shoots Jared a disbelieving look and Jared does his best not to cringe and to keep his grin in place. But Jensen smiles slightly and doesn't mock Jared for using such a goddamn cheesy line.
"Yeah, pretty often. I try to pick places I'm not gonna run into anyone I work with, y'know?"
"So running into Jared's a fail then, right?" says Chad. He smiles up at Jensen, sunny but too many teeth bared with it. Jared tenses. It's typical of Chad to try to defend him when Jared really needs it least.
It takes Jensen a moment to catch on. He watches Chad with confused dislike and then realisation dawns and his gaze snaps back to Jared, eyes widening a little and his lips parted.
"I didn't mean you. I wouldn't have come over if I didn't want to see-"
"I know what you meant," Jared assures him. He sneaks a stern look at Chad and Chad huffs at him but holds his hand out to Jensen.
"I'm Chad Murray," he says. "I specialise in playing local bad boys with schmoopy interiors. And apparently I squint."
It's the closest Chad's likely to come to an apology and Jared watches Jensen, desperately hoping he'll take it as such. After a second's hesitation, Jensen shakes Chad's hand and offers a tight but genuine smile.
"Not a local bad boy if he doesn't have a schmoopy interior, right?" Jensen says.
Chris moves up to stand at Jensen's elbow. "Damn fine line between bad boy and misunderstood woobie," says Chris, grinning at Chad, and his expression gains some warmth when he directs it at Jared. He glances at Jensen and says, "Steve's gone home. Says he'll call you tomorrow, all right?"
Jensen nods at him, hesitates, then says, "It's late. You've got an early flight tomorrow. We should-"
As if he hasn't even heard Jensen talking, Chris gestures for Chad to scoot over - which he does with very bad grace - and Chris drops onto the couch opposite Jared. There's nothing Jensen can do other than squeeze in at the table next to Jared. It's well organised because the tight fit means Jensen's thigh is flush with Jared's and Jared only has to reach for his bottle to brush up against him. Unfortunately, it feels just that: organised. It's so not subtle that even Chad is aware of it. Jensen is glaring daggers at Chris and Chris is pretending to be completely oblivious to it and is agreeing that whoever said Chad squints was obviously a blind, inbred moron.
Jensen gives Jared an uncomfortable smile but it smoothes out as Jared grins awkwardly back at him.
"I swear, man," says Jared in a low undertone that Jensen leans in to catch, "we must be frickin' saints not to have murdered 'em already."
"Either that or suckers for punishment," Jensen says. He glances at Chris, watches him get steadily drunker as he talks to Chad, and smiles affectionately. "I reckon I must be working off some serious karma just by knowing him."
"Whatever you did in a past life, I figure I must'a topped it somehow to land up with him," says Jared, jerking his head in Chad's direction. "'Sides," he drawls, lifting his bottle to his lips and looking Jensen in the eyes, "my luck ain't all bad."
:::
As they stagger out of the bar, Chad catches Jensen by the front of his shirt and tells him, in slurred tones, that he guesses Jensen isn't as much of a vapid, snotty prettyboy as Chad thought he was. And while Jared's reeling at both Chad's virtual declaration of approval and his use of the word 'vapid', and watching Jensen thank him sincerely, all Texan good manners, and assure him that Chad's not nearly as much of an ass as Jensen was expecting, Chris takes Jared by the arm and looks him square in the eye.
Jared's expecting his own drunken bonding with Chris but is abruptly unnerved by Chris's relative sobriety.
"Jenny has absolute shit taste in guys. Picks up creeps and psychos wherever he goes. Not you. You're all right, Jared." Chris grins at him, white teeth a flash in the dark blue night of the city. "Don't screw it up."
:::
It’s Friday and Jared’s taking Sandy out tonight so his mind isn’t entirely on the job. This isn’t a huge problem because, currently, the job has him sitting in the car, in the drive of Syl Gottrich’s palatial house in the Hills, waiting.
Syl’s all right. Jared doesn’t have any particular problem with him. He’s an older guy with a lot of white curls and a face like the side of a mountain, but he seems to treat Jensen okay and that’s about as much as Jared can ask for.
Jared’s spent the last hour distractedly doing Sudoku and figuring out where to take Sandy. Part of him thinks he’d really like to try cooking for her, and part of him thinks that he probably shouldn’t because that would be the quickest way to end their relationship. He wants to do something special for her, because she’s incredibly awesome even if he keeps bumping into the verbal block of wanting to talk to her about Jensen and not being able to.
Just as he’s in the middle of considering trying to pass off take-out as his own culinary creation, a cherry red sportscar squeals to a halt beside him. A young guy jumps out of it and nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to get inside the house.
Putting down the book of Sudoku, Jared has a moment of worried indecision. Then, making up his mind, he climbs out of the car and goes inside the house himself. Almost immediately, he knows he’s made the right move because he can hear angry raised voices.
"Fucking bastard! How the fuck could you do this? With a fucking whore!"
"Troy, calm down, just listen…"
There’s a smash of something breaking and Jared starts bounding up the stairs. He follows the sound of the argument and pushes the door standing ajar wide open. It’s kind of chaotic. Jared’s first thought is Jensen and he sees him in the corner of the room, clutching a sheet around his waist, his expression wary and uncertain. There’s china from a shattered vase all across the floor, and Syl is standing amidst it, with only a cushion to cover his crotch. And then there’s the young guy, looking both tearful and enraged.
They all turn to look at Jared and, instinctively, Jared gives a polite, friendly smile.
"Who the fuck are you?" Troy says to him, his voice wobbling and bitter. "Are you with the whore? I want you to take his skanky, diseased ass out of this house, right this fucking second! Do you hear me?"
He emphasises this by grabbing a fistful of the front of Jared’s t-shirt. Jared tries to bat him away, which is a mistake because Troy’s way too wound up, misinterprets it as an attack, and he takes a wild swing at Jared, catching him across the cheekbone. Jared grunts and staggers back a step. Through his briefly blurred vision, he’s aware of Jensen moving quickly to his side.
"Hey! Back the fuck off!" Jensen snaps at Troy.
There’s a confused, hectic moment where Troy’s drawing his fist back to punch Jensen and Jared tries to shove Jensen behind himself, while Syl’s shouting at them all to stop. Before Troy can take his swing, Jared pushes him hard in the chest, just enough to knock him off-balance. Troy stumbles back, gets tangled in the sheets trailing off the bed, and thumps to the floor.
He stares up at Jared, still red-faced with rage.
"I’m gonna call the fucking cops! Gonna have you and your whore-ass friend arrested for prostitution! You think I’m fucking joking?"
Jared takes a careful step towards him, conscious of the light press of Jensen’s fingertips around his bicep, a silent warning to be cautious, and of the hot throb of his cheek. He sees Troy’s eyes widen slightly as he leans over him and doesn’t know whether to be grateful he’s able to come across as intimidating, or unsettled.
"And I’ll press charges for assault," he says, calm and quiet as he can. "We’re going. You wanna talk about this? Talk to Syl."
He waits while Jensen grabs his clothes and dresses. He pretends he’s keeping an eye on Troy whereas really he simply doesn’t want to add to the audience Jensen’s already got. He’s quick about it and they’re out of the house within five minutes. Jensen follows Jared down the stairs and back to the car in silence.
Wasting no time in getting some distance between them and Syl's place, Jared finally risks a glance at Jensen once they're back on the road. The buttons on Jensen's shirt are done up wrongly and his face is pinched.
"You okay?" Jared says.
Jensen flashes him a frustrated half-smile. "Left my fucking sunglasses back there."
"Want me to go back for them?"
There's a pause and Jared isn't sure what to think about the way Jensen's looking at him. Like he's not clear if Jared's making a joke or not. Then he shakes his head and looks away.
"No. Thanks. Got other pairs at home. Just… I liked them." He sighs and then laughs shortly. "How was that for exciting then?"
"That was pretty cool, yeah," Jared agrees. He's still feeling the aching pulse of where Troy punched him. "That's Syl's son then?"
"Try boyfriend," says Jensen, his voice darkly amused.
"Oh," says Jared. "Awkward."
"Yeah. Still, at least I don't have to worry about the wife, her complete disinterest in Syl's sex-life is how they've stayed married so long, so I hear."
Something tickles Jared's cheek and he swipes at it, then he frowns as his fingers come away bloody. He swears under his breath but Jensen catches it and looks over at him, sees the blood on his fingertips.
"Shit, you're bleeding," says Jensen. "Pull over, let me look at you."
"It's fine," says Jared. "Honestly."
It feels kind of stupid to be making a big deal of it. Blood is trickling in a sluggish line down his cheek but the sting is duller now.
"Jared, you're bleeding-" Jensen starts but Jared cuts him off with a quick shake of his head.
"C'mon, man. It's nothing." He flicks a sidelong look at Jensen and grins. "Quit worrying. I'm totally safe to drive."
Jensen doesn't look convinced, but he lets it go, at least until they've arrived back at his place.
"Come on in," he says. "I'll fix that for you."
Jared's gut reaction is to tell Jensen, yet again, that it's really no big deal, and any fixing up that's required, Jared can take care of himself. But there's something in Jensen's tone, something about the set of his face, which prompts Jared to say, "Thanks, man," instead.
As he lets Jensen sit him down on the couch and fuss over cotton balls and antiseptic cream, Jared can all but see the thought processes going on in Jensen's head. He can see them in the tightness of Jensen's brow, the fuller, unconscious pout of his lips.
So he's not at all surprised when, eventually, Jensen gets around to saying, "Fuck, man. I'm really sorry."
Jensen's leaning in close in order to get at the broken skin. It stings a little when he touches it, but Jared's easily distracted by the up-close and personal view he's getting of Jensen's freckles and Jensen's eyes, which are crazily green, and Jensen's eyelashes, which should be ridiculous - because guys just don't have lashes that long and dark - but aren't.
He realises that maybe he should have said something by now.
"Totally not your fault," he says.
They're still so close that when Jensen's gaze flickers to meet his, the moment is charged, inescapably intimate. Jared thinks of how they almost kissed. He wonders if Jensen's thinking about it too. If he were to move his mouth just an inch or so to the side, he could press his lips to Jensen's.
He lets out a small sigh and breaks eye contact.
"Sorry, that's gonna be one hell of a bruise," says Jensen, normal and light.
"It'll the impress the girls, right?" Jared says. He grins, but it dies abruptly. "Shit. I'm seeing Sandy tonight. What the fuck am I gonna tell her?"
Jensen draws back, busies himself with tidying away the cotton balls and screwing the cap back on the antiseptic. He shrugs and then looks back up at Jared, his expression open and concerned.
"Just some random jerk?" he suggests.
Jared makes a non-committal noise and sighs. "Hmm, maybe."
"Sorry," says Jensen again.
"Really," says Jared. "Not your fault."
:::
On seeing Jared, Sandy's first words are, "Oh my God! What happened?"
Jared hadn't thought it looked as bad as all that. He taps his fingers gingerly to the cut, and gives a sheepish shrug.
"It's hard to coordinate limbs this long, all right?" he says, flailing his arms around. "I'm kinda clumsy."
Catching hold of his hand, Sandy leads him inside her place and sits him down on the couch. Her face is scrunched up with concern, which is an oddly cute look for her, and her gaze hasn't wavered from Jared's cheek. She sits down next to him and, after a long moment's further scrutiny, she bites her lip.
"Looks like someone punched you," she says finally.
Her mouth tightens and she raises an eyebrow at Jared. Feeling trapped, Jared shrugs again.
"I'm kinda blind too, don't always notice where people's fists are in relation to my face."
Sandy sighs, short and unhappy. A quick glance to ask Jared's permission, and then Sandy traces the line of swollen, broken skin with a fingertip. He holds still until she leans back, her hands knotted in her lap.
"Things got kind of crazy at work," Jared says, before she has chance to ask again. "It was nothing, seriously. Just some guy with a temper, and I got in the way, and... It's all over now."
She doesn't look convinced but Jared doesn't know what else he can tell her. He watches her nervously, waiting for some kind of response from her. Finally, she looks back up at him. There's a shrewd look in her eyes that Jared's really pretty uncomfortable about. She's way too smart sometimes.
"What about the guy you were driving around? He get involved?"
Jared laughs and shakes his head.
"It's kind of my job to keep him out of trouble."
"So he just let you get punched? Just hid behind you?" Sandy says, a frown heavy on her face. "Nice guy you're working for."
"No, no, no!" Jared says. "No, he tried to get involved, but I didn't want him to. Sandy, this isn't his fault."
Her expression remains dubious and it rankles at Jared that she's thinking badly of Jensen, even though he knows she doesn't have the details, and that she's not thinking of Jensen, but of the nameless, faceless guy Jared works for. There doesn't seem to be anything he can say though, to reassure her that Jensen's not what she thinks he is. Not without making it clear just how awesome Jared thinks he is.
Finally she relents a little, but there's still some dissatisfaction in her eyes as she looks at the split skin.
"You need some ice on that?" she says.
"I'm good," says Jared. "But thanks." He pauses, then tries a grin on her. "Does it make me look tough?"
A smile tugs at Sandy's lips and she gives in to it with bad grace, huffing and rolling her eyes. Then she leans up and Jared's grin broadens as he feels her drop the faintest of kisses to his aching cheek.
"It's very manly," she tells him, as straight-faced as she can.
:::
It doesn't take long for the bruise to fade. Every morning for the next three days, just before Jared shaves, he takes a moment to study its progress in the bathroom mirror. There's an odd kind of pride in it, seeing it there on his skin.
Maybe Jensen would have handled the situation better without Jared's intervention, but maybe, that bruise would be sitting on Jensen's cheek right now.
Jared's kind of disappointed when, on the fourth day, the bruise is nothing but a pale, yellowish-green shadow.
:::
At midday, Jensen has just finished an appointment with Quentin and Jared's belly is loudly voicing its anticipation of lunch. He tucks his Sudoku away as Jensen draws near, and gets to his feet. Jensen looks surprisingly pleased with himself and Jared is trying not to read too much into that when Jensen thrusts a thick wedge of paper at him.
"Here," he says. "Got this for you."
Looking at it blankly, it takes Jared a moment to realise exactly what it is. It's a script. He looks back up at Jensen, who's still beaming at him a little smugly. Jared looks back at the script, flips it open and lets the pages flicker by in a blur of dialogue and directions.
"Where did you-" he starts to say.
"I've been listening out for anything I thought you might find interesting," says Jensen. "And then I heard about this and it sounded pretty you so I asked Quentin to get hold of a script for me." He gives Jared a serious, sincere look. "Don’t worry, he's not connected to the project. But…" The grin creeps back onto Jensen's face as if he can't be parted from it for long. "Auditions are next week and I've already taken care of the casting couch."
Jared shoots him a horrified look and Jensen flushes and shrugs, the grin finally sliding off his face and staying gone. "That was a joke," he says lamely.
"Really not a very funny one." He smoothes his hand over the front of the script, over the stark black print on the white paper. "But, seriously, man, this is… this is really awesome of you."
"Yes it is," Jensen agrees very solemnly. "But buying me lunch will go a long way to expressing your gratitude to me."
:::
The script Jensen's found for him is for a pilot TV show about a fallen angel trying to earn redemption by helping humanity whilst fending off demonic attempts to drag him back to Hell. It's got the elements of more than a few successful shows thrown in but has managed to be faintly original with it. The writing's kind of cheesy but the plot doesn't suck and Jared likes the characters. He thought it was the spunky cop sidekick Jensen had him going for and it took a while to sink in that Jensen was suggesting he try for the starring role. He's still not sure about that. He's not sure he can pull off the necessary laconic attitude or silent, charismatic presence.
"Seriously?" says Jensen, when Jared tries to voice these concerns. "Jared, you're completely capable of being a badass motherfucker. Just… try not to be a puppy at the same time."
"Maybe I should go for the cop instead. I think I'd have a better chance with-"
"No. Go for the fallen angel guy." Jensen shoots him a wicked grin. "Don't make me escort you into the auditions, Jay."
Jared spends the next two nights learning lines. He warms to Azrael, but studies Officer Gabe Rivers' part too, though he doesn't mention that to Jensen. Either part would be pretty damn sweet. The next day he tosses the script back to Jensen so they can run lines between appointments.
"They don’t think you're a threat," says Jared, eyes still on the road even if he's trying to put himself there, on a skyscraper at night, with unearthly forces thick in the air, with stakes so high that he'll be feeling a loss for an eternity. "They think you're beneath their notice."
"Then how do I get their attention?" Jensen shoots back, angry and exasperated.
"Being seen with me is a good way to start."
"Fine, I'll be your new best buddy."
Jared pauses, takes a breath. Understands how it feels to try talking sense to someone who just doesn't get it. "You'd be dead within the week," he says, weary.
"I've been a cop for five years, I think I can take care of myself."
"No. Not against this. And it'd be pathetic watching you try. You've no idea how fragile you are, have you? No idea how easily you break. Taking you apart, it's like popping bubble-wrap. It's fun and easy and addictive. I know it's wrong, I know it is, but I know how good it feels. I'd like to see them hurt you. Get away from here before I decide just how much I'd like it."
"No," says Jensen, soft and stubborn at once. "No. You saved me. Saved that girl. You can't tell me you're like them. I-"
"You want me to show you just how like them I am?" The words come swift and venomous, and Jensen looks up at him, eyes wide. Jared flushes and falters, adjust his grip on the steering wheel, his palms abruptly sweaty. "What? Too much?"
Jensen goes on staring at him, still with that wide-eyed look. Finally he shakes his head and looks back down at the script, curled open in his lap, ready for prompting Jared if he needs it, which he hasn't done in a few days.
"You're good," he says.
"Could you try to sound less surprised?" Jared says, laughing a little even as he flushes a brighter red.
"No. I mean… I knew you'd be good," says Jensen. His eyes narrow a little as he studies Jared. "I just didn't think you'd be good. Seriously, what the hell are you doing in this job?"
"I could ask you the same thing, y'know. You're really… also good. Maybe you should come to the audition with me." Jensen laughs and shakes his head, and Jared cocks his head at him. "C'mon, why not?"
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." When Jared goes on looking at him, waiting for further explanation, Jensen shakes his head again and sounds absolutely convinced when he speaks. "Too many people know… what I do. It'd be the casting couch for me with every single audition. I'm not doing that."
"No way. You're too good for that. You'd get it because you deserve it. Because you're good enough."
Jensen isn't swayed. Jared can see it in his body language even before he speaks.
"Well, you give me a call when you're in charge of casting and I might come along. Until then, I'll sit it out, thanks."
:::
"He's pushing you at acting jobs?" says Chad.
"Better than my own agent," says Jared, feeling a little smug.
It abruptly gets a lot easier to kick Chad's ass at Madden. Jared figures out why when he looks at Chad and sees his hands slack around the controller. Chad's looking at him with a doubtful expression.
"And you're happy about this why?" Chad says.
Jared frowns. This sounds like it's got to be a trick question because even Chad's got to be smart enough to figure it out for himself. "Because it's very thoughtful of him and I've got a real chance at this audition he found for me."
Chad rubs his forehead and Jared gets uneasy and wonders what he's missing. Chad throws his controller down and turns around on the couch to face Jared. He speaks with the kind of restraint that makes it clear he thinks Jared's a moron and it's only a very humane pity for his stupidity that's keeping Chad telling Jared about it.
"Okay, so, work with me here. You go to the audition, you get the part… then?"
"Uh… Profit?" Jared ventures. Chad's expression tells him it's the wrong answer so he tries, "I win an Emmy?"
"Way, way, way before that ever happens?" Chad says. At Jared's blank look, he supplies the answer. "You take the part and… you don't work with Jensen anymore. Jensen's plan has you not spending so much, if any, time with him anymore. So, c'mon genius, tell me again why you're happy about this?"
:::
Sometimes Chad makes very good points. It doesn't happen often but when it does it tends to gnaw at Jared. The longer he thinks about it, the harder it is to ignore the possibility that Jensen is trying to get rid of him. It makes it hard to concentrate on running lines when all he can think is that however much Jensen seems to like him, he doesn't like him enough to want to keep him around.
By the time the audition rolls round, Jared has given up considering whether he should simply refuse to go to the audition simply to spite Jensen. If Jensen wants him gone, then Jared's not going to fight to stay in his life. He has enough self-respect for that. But apparently not enough to keep himself from bitching about it.
"Look, I know it's not like you can help it," says Jensen, "but worrying about it's pointless. You're awesome and this would be a great part for you. But if it doesn't play out, then… their loss. It won't be the end of the frickin' world, right?"
"Sure. You're not gonna give up 'til you've got me out of this and into some acting job," says Jared, only it comes out sharper than he intended it to. He flushes and keeps his gaze on his plate, pushing his food around with his fork, while Jensen's gaze on him prickles his skin. The couple at the next table have stopped their conversation and are looking in their direction, sensing the tension.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jensen says, his tone neutral but strained. "Jeez, would you look at me?"
Jared lifts his eyes to Jensen's face and very much regrets saying anything. Jensen looks confused and uneasy, and Jared's gaze catches on the fading, red graze along his neck, down the fair skin below his ear, from the appointment earlier in the morning. He takes his sunglasses off and looks through the midday sun at Jared.
"You're pissed at me," he says, after a moment. "What've I done?"
"No," says Jared. "Nothing. You haven’t done anything. It's me…"
"It's not you, it's me," mimics Jensen, not altogether unkindly. "There's a speech I haven’t heard in a while. So come on, what's not me?"
The cheese and bacon sub Jared had for lunch is sitting badly in his stomach and he shifts in his seat, aware of Jensen tracking his every move. Finally, he takes a deep breath and goes for it.
"I want you to bear in mind that this sounded a lot less like a twelve-year old girl in my head but I'm kind of wondering why you're trying so hard to get me an acting gig and I'm also wondering, and this is really the twelve-year old girl bit, but I'm wondering if you're trying to get rid of me."
Despite it sounding really pathetic, Jared's glad he said it because Jensen's immediate reaction to it proves just how wrong Chad and, by extension, Jared was. Jared should have known it really because Chad is wrong a staggeringly high proportion of the time.
"You think I'm trying to get rid of you? Okay, Jared, I think that's actually a little paranoid even for a twelve-year old girl. Of course I'm not trying to get rid of you! I'm trying to help you! Trying to get you a better job than this!"
"Well, if you are gonna try to get rid of me, you don't need to go to this trouble, dude," Jared says earnestly. "It's all right for you to just say Hey, man, this has been awesome but I don't think it's working out…"
"What are you, the king of break-up speeches or something?" Jensen interrupts.
Jared ignores him and goes on with, "-and I'd be fine with that and we'd both explain to Sam that-"
"Wait," says Jensen, holding up a hand and looking more peeved than he has the entire conversation. "You're telling me you'd be fine with me basically telling you to get lost? You wouldn't try to argue me round or anything? You wouldn't care enough to…? You'd just… go? Is that what you're saying?"
"Well, yeah," says Jared and blinks at how tight and irritable that makes Jensen's expression go. "C'mon, how much fun would it be spending as much time together as we do, with someone who doesn't want you there? You'd expect me to, what? Try to persuade you how awesome I am really? Nup, if you can't see that for yourself then…" He trails off and coaxes a grin from Jensen.
"I've changed my mind. I'm thinking trying to get rid of you sounds like a mighty fine plan, Padalecki."
part five