RPS Fic : Seek 1/2
Seek
SPN RPS - Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG-13 (Arbitrary. Swearing, I guess. Though, really, how big of a deal is that.)
11,104 words: This story is way different from the mental incarnation. Sad. Also: Unbeta-ed. Pictures aren't mine, culled from various online sources.
Endings are hard. Beginnings are harder. Supernatural wraps up and Jared and Jensen approach the next year in radically different fashion.
That first year, the one after Supernatural and before everything else--well, it's hard.
He goes back to LA because he can't not--his agent's been creaming himself over the stack of offers that had suddenly landed, fast and furious, at his door. It's mostly horror or genre work, and Jensen's already got the proverbial recycling bin at the ready--it's the last thing he needs, for a few different reasons.
To be honest, none of it sounds all that exciting--Hollywood only seems able to produce the same four stories at any given time, with each iteration becoming a paler imitation of the original. Jensen has the misfortune of coming in at the tail end of the cycle; apparently all the blockbusters are amped on this cross-genre of thriller/teen romance, and all the indies are populated with quirky families dealing with grief or loss, preferably with an ornery senior citizen role and a part for Elle Fanning.
Not that that's bad, it's just--Jensen doesn't really see where he fits in, amidst all that. Still, his agent swears that he's sitting on a script that's going to be the next Spiderman and as much as Jensen wants to tell him that,
A. He's pretty sure the superhero thing has finally played itself out and,
B. he doesn't want to be in the next anything,
he knows it's a lie.
After more than a decade in the business, Jen would still kill to be in a movie franchise like that. With that kind of cachet you could do anything you wanted: cherry pick the best scripts, work with the best directors, act with, fuck, Johnny Depp, Robert Redford, Forest Whitaker. From the moment he stepped onto the soundstage at Days of Our Lives, he wanted that kind of creative freedom so bad he could taste it, and years later, it lingers at the back of his tongue.
He can't not be in LA. Not right now. He's feeling old, to the point where he'd floated the idea of Botox past Jared. Jared had promptly laughed his ass off and told Jen that he had no idea Jen was such a pretty pretty princess and to go right ahead and pump his face full of bacon lard gone bad so he could keep up with Hayden Panettierre. It's the answer Jensen had wanted to hear; he's not sure what he woulda done if Jared hadn't shot the idea down, but still. The fact that he even thought about it worries him.
The window for his big break into movies is shrinking fast and he can't help but think this is the last chance he's got to jump up onto that train before it speeds its way out of the station.
He doesn't say any of that when Jared asks him what he's doing, after. What he says is: "LA. Same ol' shit."
Jared says through a mouthful of pizza, "Nose to the grindstone, huh?"
Jensen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You know me."
Jared doesn't say anything. Just looks at him. He's been doing that a lot more lately. Somewhere in between getting engaged to Sandy and then getting dumped by her, Jared changed. Maybe that's not the right word. He grew up? Something. It's not a bad thing, though it took Jensen a while to get used to it, to stop squirming under Jared's suddenly searching gaze.
He's still not quite comfortable with it, so he tosses out, "What about you, Padalecki? You gonna storm LA with me?"
Jared smiles, sits back on the sofa in Jen's trailer. "Naw. I'm all outta thunder. It's been a long year. Hell, the last few have been long."
"Starlets aren't gonna fuck themselves."
Jared chuckles. "Fine example of a Texas gentleman. Momma raised you right."
Jensen smirks, punches Jared in the thigh. "So, what then? You looking for more work in Vancouver? After all that bitching you did about the cold? C'mon, you could use a little California sun. Give your tanning salon a break so they can take more customers instead of spending four days turning your gigantic ass orange."
Jared laughs. "Shut up." He sighs, stretching lazily. "I'm just wiped, man. Been doing the show nine months outta the year and making a movie the other three since the second season."
"Poor, overworked actor. That's a real hardship, Jay, people 'cross the world feel for you."
Jared snickers. "Alright, alright." He checks the clock, then gets to his feet, stifling a yawn. "Gotta go."
"Pick up shots?"
"Yeah. Fucking lighting. Who the fuck cares, the show's supposed to be goddamn dark. You'd think Henry'd know how to do his job by now."
"Cranky." Jensen takes a big bite of pizza before looking up quizzically at Jared. "What, he refuse to blow you the last time you asked him or something?"
Jared rolls his eyes, but his lips tip up and he cuffs Jensen's head as he plods out. "Naw, just didn't swallow. Later, asshole. Leave me some pizza."
It's the last time they hang out in either of their trailers. Jen had figured that they'd end up there again at some point; with another day of shooting, it had seemed inevitable. Only it ends up that Jared spends the whole next day doing this thing, this weird polished, acting thing that's throwing him off.
Every syllable's rounded and modulated precisely, every action thoughtful yet spontaneous and Jensen can't stop marveling, can't stop admiring the skill behind it. The kid's an actor. It's a stroke of luck that the last scene--fuck, the last scene--ends up being the last to be shot, and Jared's bringing an A-game Jensen didn't even know existed.
He tries to explain it to Chris the next day, and he knows he's gushing but he can't help himself. Jared's got his habits, like every actor, an over reliance on furrowed brows and melting eyes, but last night, Jensen had looked up at Sam, expecting puppy dog eyes, maybe a sheen of tears, and what he got was this quiet pride that radiated love, a sad acceptance of inevitability--these complex emotions conveyed with little shifts in posture, in the shape of his mouth, the tilt of his head, extending down into the fucking subtle placement of his hands and Jen had stepped on his line, hard.
Easy ass dialogue, too, but Jen was more pissed for Jared than for himself; he'd ruined what might've been Jared's best take and he'd started apologizing immediately, but Jared just grinned, shook his head and pulled that shit out the next four takes, hitting it harder every time. It's different, it's new, it's fucking fun as hell and between takes, Jensen tells himself not to think about it yet, the end's not here, not yet.
Only, at six a.m., the sun dawns, and the air goes crisp, like someone took it by the edges and shook the haze out of it.
David Nutter groans, calls out, "Hey guys, looks like that's a wrap. Can't send you Winchester boys out on sunny skies."
Somewhere along the line, Kim had shown up, probably to look over the dailies, and he stands from behind David. "You guys did good. Seriously. Solid shit. Even you Padalecki, might be able to use some of your footage after all."
Jared laughs, flips him off.
"Ignore him," David says. "Jared, you've come a long way, kid."
Jared grins, so absurdly pleased that Jensen has to snicker. "Thanks." He claps Jensen on the back. "It's this guy, right here. Knowing he could carry the show without me with one hand tied behind his back kept me on my toes, yeah?"
Jensen laughs. "We're doing the mutual admiration thing, again? Thought I didn't have to make up shit I like about you anymore. There aren't even any interviewers around."
Jared laughs again, but it turns into a yawn and he squeezes Jen's shoulder. "I'm gonna head home, turn in." He raises his voice, calls out goodbyes to Kim and David, makes his way down towards the parking lot. It's his typical shtick, the same skip off set Jared always somehow manages, no matter how late or early. Jensen knows that Jared's mouth moving means he's tossing off quiet thank you's to the crew, that he's gonna smack Henry's ass when he passes by, that he'll wink at Jenna and Angela. He's seen Jared do this for five years and change.
He thinks, 'Not yet', but it is.
****
The summer goes by fast. Jensen doesn't have much time to think. Some ridiculous stroke of luck and his agent had finagled him a part on the latest adaptation of one of Palahniuk's books. It's not Fight Club--David Fincher isn't directing, for one--but the guy behind the camera, though fresh from film school, is smart as hell and prepared and more than anything, he's got a vision, a generationally in-tune sensibility with rhythm to it.
He says as much to Jared, on a rare moment of downtime.
Jared says this: "Dude, you're starting to talk like them. Listen to you. Generationally in-tune? Man alive. You're so hip, Jen. Your movie's so hip."
Jensen laughs. "I'm trying to tell you I'm excited here."
He can hear Jared's smile through the phone. "Yeah, okay. I get it, Jen. I'm excited for you too, man. Really. It sounds amazing. Your color commentary, not so much, but the movie itself--hey, you better fucking send me an invitation to the Oscar's when you get nominated."
"Dude, don't jinx it." Jen fights a smile. "Besides, there's no way. It's just a supporting role. I'll probably be lucky to be in fifteen minutes of the final cut."
Jared snorts. "And yet you're on set all day every day, to the point where you can't even pick up my phone calls?"
"Feeling neglected?"
"I defended you, man. Jenna swore up and down that you'd hit it big and then forget the little people, but I told her that you were better than that."
"Yeah, yeah."
"It's not right, Jen. I don't want this to be a Matt and Ben situation, you understand me? I refuse to be Ben Affleck."
"What, you wouldn't want to do Jennifer Garner?"
"I'm saying that I don't wanna be stuck in a rut of crap-ass movies while my best friend's chilling in George Clooney's Italian villa."
"Deal."
"Cold, man."
Jensen laughs. "Where the hell are you, anyway? Still in Texas?"
"San Antone, baby. I'm tearing it up on home court."
"So sitting your lazy ass on your momma's couch while your little sister delivers your daddy's bbq to you on a silver platter."
"Hah. You try getting Megan to deliver something."
"Maybe when I'm brushing shoulders with Mr. and Mrs. Pitt. You could be around too, I guess."
"Like ice, your heart. It hurts, Jen. Or I guess Mr. Ackles, now yeah? Big shot movie star with his big shot title making up for what might not be so big below the waist, am I right?"
Jensen laughs, hangs up on Jared with a smile on his face.
****
The role's harder than anything he's done before. Jen's the first one to tell you his limitations as an actor; he puts so much thought into it he could recite a list of tics and techniques he needs to work on in a heartbeat.
Turns out the director's got his own list. There's a stylism that he beats out of Jensen brutally, this acting with a capital A that Jensen had picked up on Days. Some nights Jensen goes home with more frustrated rage than he knows what to do with. Gets to the point where he's got a little collection of holes he's punched into the plaster of his wall.
He swears he's gonna get a heart attack. He wakes up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, running scenes in his head, going over acting choice after acting choice until he can't take it anymore. Ends up calling Jared.
"Suuup, home fry," drawls Jared, voice thick, matted with sleep.
Jensen laughs, right off the bat, and he breathes a little easier. "I'm freaking out."
"Surprise, surprise."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, shouldn't jump to conclusions. So you woke me up at 3 a.m. just cuz, what? You were feeling good, wanted to catch up?"
"Dude, why are we friends."
Jared snickers, then replies through a yawn, "Cuz I always pick up."
****
He's scheduled to be done at the beginning of August, but his role keeps expanding, and they bring him back for reshoots. After a couple of test screenings, they call him again for even more scenes, and before he knows it, it's late September.
Lately, all he's feeling is proud, and lucky. He's not getting yelled at on set, not being told to come back when he's ready to do the scene well, and the movie--Fuck it, the movie might be good. He's still definitely not a lead, nothing near, but he's in a solid chunk of the movie, playing a pretty pivotal character and it's the most meat he's sunk his teeth into in ages.
He's been done since early morning, but stuck around to watch the scenes being blocked out. The crew's bigger than he's used to, to the point where he's not able to remember everybody's face, never mind their names, but they work just as efficiently. It blows his mind to see the money being thrown around on set, the utter disregard for damage to wardrobe, special effects being run over and over, even the fucking spread for craft services. Jared would flip.
He takes a picture with his phone, texts it to Jared. Kind of can't believe he hasn't done that already.
Ends up watching scenes play out, even gets to help Ellen Burstyn run some lines. Looks around for someone to tell, after, but there's nobody in range. Calls his dad, but it goes straight to voicemail, then he texts Jared. Gets one back in a few minutes, reads:
Douche. Gotta rub it in my face. Haha, such a rock star. Doin' me proud. Also, save me some of that spread. I mean it. The cold cuts. Some of that satay.
Grins down at his phone, then gets distracted. Some PA mentions they're screening the trailer and Jensen jogs over to the huddle around the director. He watches, and honest to god, he's amazed.
Thing is, he might actually go to watch this movie. People might actually go to watch it.
Stands around after that, feeling goofy and prickling with energy. Knows the itch well, usually resulted in Jared suffering the consequences, but Jay's thousands of miles away and Jensen takes himself home before he bounces out of his skin. Brings a box of roast beef, chicken satay, and some sashimi with him without really thinking.
When he gets home, he realizes there's no one to give it to. Jen rolls his eyes at himself, eats until he's uncomfortably full and all that energy--just kind of goes flat.
****
October's like that. Listless. Without anything to distract him, the changes start to sink in. Every morning Jen wakes up with the sheets kicked down around his ankles. His comforters, the quilts his momma sent him, are stacked in the back of his closet and his bed stays bare, white.
When he goes to his closet, his arm reaches instinctively for his heavy jacket, and he has to wake up, remind himself that a tee's more than enough defense against California's definition of fall.
It's a bunch of things like that.
The girl behind the counter at the Starbuck's around the corner is gorgeous, blonde with perfect skin, teeth, proportions. Jen's pretty sure her polo's Lacoste. She's nice enough to look at, but he misses Shirley, the way he towered over her petite frame, the fact that she spelled his name out in katakana on his cups after a random, half-conscious flirtation that apparently included his insistence that she write his name for him in Japanese.
He misses getting pages on Monday, getting revisions on Tuesday, the scramble to memorize and fit in rehearsal wherever they could. He wonders what Kim's doing, whether Kripke ever got his 'resurrection fable'--"It's not a goddamn zombie show, alright?"--off the ground.
Mostly, he wonders what Jared's doing and gets stupidly bothered he has to wonder at all.
Jared doesn't call. Jen knows it's his own damn fault; past few months have been so busy that his friends and family have been trained to stop trying to catch him and let him get to them on his own time. Jared had been the last to learn that lesson, but apparently it sunk in.
He should call, he knows. Ball's in his court. Only, it doesn't seem like enough. There's a million things he's curious about, first and foremost being what the hell Jared's been up to. He's got more than enough time to reflect nowadays and he's realized he's got zero clue as to what Jared's plans are, what his day to day is like; the guy's been tight-lipped in his own way, steering conversation so that all roads lead back to Jensen. Tricky bastard.
These are things he wants to know, that he should already fucking know, and it doesn't seem right that he has to ask them. That's not the life he's been living the past five some years, and he's not sure what to do when Jared's life isn't running on the same track as his.
More he thinks about it, the more he realizes that a phone call sure as shit isn't gonna cut it.
He books a flight. Was due for a visit home anyway.
****
"Guess where I am?"
"Dude, I was just calling you! Weird."
Jensen blows past the non sequiter. "Guess where I'm at."
Jared huffs. "Spearmint Rhino."
"No."
"The Gentleman's Club."
"No."
"Titties 'R Us."
Jensen stops pacing in his little hotel room. "Is that a real place?"
"Nope."
"Then, no. I'm in San Antonio, dude. And don't say that was gonna be your next guess. You and I both know it was gonna be some other adult establishment. Your family know you're a strip club connoisseur?"
Jared chuckles. "Hard to know something that isn't true. You're not really in Texas are you?"
"Not happy to see me?"
"I was expecting to be, but seeing as I'm about ten minutes from what I'm guessing is your completely empty house, I'm not happy, no."
"Bullshit."
"Swear to god."
"What street are you on?" Jen asks suspiciously.
"Rosecrans."
"Fuck." Jensen falls back onto his hotel bed, rolling the ear piece of his sunglasses between his fingers. "That blows."
Jared laughs ruefully. "Tell me about it. Where's the nearest hotel?"
Jensen sits up quickly, already tossing his clothes back into his duffel. "No, look, there's a spare key in a small lock box around the side of the house. Code's 5494 and the alarm code's 1234."
"Dude, you're not supposed to keep the default code key. That's stupid."
"Smart ass. Couldn't let that one slide?"
"I like busting your balls. Haven't gotten to do it lately. Feeling greedy."
Jensen snickers. "Alright, man, get there and sit tight. I'll catch the next flight out."
"You're not gonna see your folks?"
"I'm due back here in a month for Thanksgiving, anyway."
"You're a bold man, Ackles."
He leaves on a red eye that night. Jared picks him up at eight a.m., crowing about the fucking Benz that Jen just bought, and Jen just grins, doesn't say anything when Jared takes the long way home just for the sheer pleasure of driving.
He stays half-awake while Jared talks about the run he took this morning, how he ran into Lauren Graham at Starbuck's, how much Sadie and Harley would love to dig up Jensen's perfectly manicured back lawn.
If Jen's being honest, he has to admit that there was a part of him that was worried as hell for this reunion. Everything's different, outside of Vancouver, and it stands to reason that the Jared he knew wouldn't be the one he got in LA.
Stupid. Jared's the same. He's slimmed down a little, less beefy action hero, and cut his hair but in all the ways that matter, he's the same. Jensen takes a deep breath, lets himself fall asleep to the rhythm of the tires, the cadence of Jared's voice.
****
He wakes up as Jared's pulling into his driveway and before he knows it, he's being tugged out of the passenger's seat and swept into a bear hug.
"Guh."
"It's good to see you, Jen."
Jensen grins. "Yeah, okay. Good to see you, too."
Jared's grin goes wider, and he holds Jensen out at arms-length, studies him. "Jesus, look at you."
"What?"
Jared shakes his head, and fuck, he's blushing. "Nothing, nothing."
Jensen snorts.
"Naw, it's just--you look different."
"What're you talking about?" Jensen grabs his duffel out of the back seat and leads the way into the house. "Haven't even changed up the hair."
Jared nods, follows him into the kitchen and grabs a couple of bowls while Jensen pulls the milk from the fridge. "It's nothing, man, forget it. Probably just cuz of the red eye. Your face is all scrunched up."
Jensen rolls his eyes, plunges a spoon into his cereal. "You know why I missed you, Jay? You're so damn good for my ego."
Jared laughs, and fuck, Jen's missed seeing that laugh in person. Hearing it over the phone's like watching a movie in black and white; there's just something missing. "Alright, movie star, I've got plans for you."
Jensen raises an eyebrow, mouth too full to protest, and Jared comes around to lift up Jensen's shirt, pinch at his lower stomach. "Look at this, man. So pampered with your gourmet craft services. And I bet you didn't have to do a dive roll once, or run from a tennis ball, am I right?"
Jensen swats his hand away, tugs his shirt down, glaring.
Jared laughs again. "We're going paintballing, motherfucker. Some of the guys ended up down here, gonna come with, Henry, Jacob, that one guy with the dreads, always forget his name--"
Jensen swallows his mouthful. "Terry."
"Right, Terry. I'm gonna kick your flabby ass."
Jensen grins, caught up in Jared's orbit all over again. The kid's world runs at a different speed than his, and one of the hardest things the past few weeks was getting used to being bored again. "Jay, you don't have anything else to do while you're here, man? I get it if you have to take a day to see your agent and work your shit out."
"Naw." Jared smiles, wide and carefree. "Just here to see you."
****
It's intense, is what it is. Jen's got his suspicions that Jared spent the past summer doing nothing but honing his paintball skills, because no way in hell was he this good before.
It had been fine just a few minutes before, the two of them working together to take out the crew guys, circling Jacob, cornering Henry; Jensen had even taken out Terry on his own with a pretty sweet sniper shot.
Soon as that guy went down though, Jared had turned to him, raised an eyebrow and said politely, "I'll give you a fifteen second head start."
Jensen had laughed, then given him the middle finger. Jared just started counting, and Jensen had raised his rifle at 'two', point blank from Jared's chest.
"Aw, c'mon, man. Sportsmanship."
Jensen had rolled his eyes and lowered it, but pride made him refuse to budge an inch. Which maybe was a mistake. Because after Jared had finished counting, he'd disappeared without a sound between Jensen's blinks.
Jen had immediately searched the immediate vicinity and come up empty-handed, which was ridiculous. Jay had the stride of an ostrich, but didn't mean that he could up and vanish. He hears a pop and thump and red blossoms on the bale of hay inches away from his thigh.
"Mother fucker!"
He hears Jared laugh, then start to whistle, spots the glint of Jay's protective goggles and fires three rounds, only to have Jared dodge each one. Spends the next few seconds dancing around the rain of pellets coming down at him, only to realize that the fucker's toying with him.
Comes to sudden stop and gets hit. Breath whooshes out of him. Never get used to that. "You're an asshole."
Jared laughs, then clambers down from his perch, spreading his arms. "Sorry, sorry. Couldn't help it. Look, you can take a shot at me, I deserve it."
Jensen grins, hopes the wicked isn't shining through, and calmly pops one off at Jared's thigh, where the padding's thinnest.
"Fuck!" Jared shouts, hopping around on one leg. "You sadistic bastard!"
Jensen can't help but laugh, but he jogs over, pulls Jared's arm over his shoulder. "Dramatic."
Jared laughs at himself through grit teeth, then shoves a finger into Jensen's chest. "TLC, motherfucker. I mean it."
****
Jared's milking his "injury" for all it's worth. On the way home, he stretches out in the backseat, toeing his shoes off and moaning every so often to remind Jen that he's been very seriously hurt.
They've already made two detours: one for the drive through at In 'n Out--Jensen had ordered, like, six burgers without a thought and he'd seen Jared settle back and close his mouth, preempted, so that hadn't changed--and another for Blockbuster, where Jared was insisting that they rent all three Toy Story's.
Jen had been about to give him shit for it, but Jared had sat up and put weight on his foot and hissed immediately and Jensen shut up.
He's in the video store, DVD's in hand, when Jared lopes in, grabs a couple boxes of Sour Patch Kids and waits in line with Jensen.
"Sure are walking on that leg pretty fine," Jen drawls.
"Nope." Jared looks straight ahead, not a trace of a smile on his face. "Hurts like a mother. Actor, remember?" He turns and winks at Jensen. "Just that good."
****
Jensen goes straight for the shower at home. Got a little splashback from the paint, and he's got a feeling that the red splattered on the back of his neck isn't going to come out anytime soon.
When he gets dried and dressed, he heads to the kitchen, grabbing the two burgers Jared had left for him and what's left of the fries, along with some fancy ass vodka that his agent had given him in congratulations when he'd wrapped the movie. If he's sitting through cartoons, he's gonna need to be drunk.
Jared's on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, basketball shorts pulled up as he rubs Icy Hot into a darkening bruise on his inner thigh.
"Fuck. I'm sorry."
Jared looks up, startled. "Naw, Jen, don't worry about it. Looks worse than it is."
"You need anything?" Jensen puts the food and bottle down on the table, but stays on his feet, feeling guilty.
"Jen, relax, sit down. The Icy Hot's fine. Or, actually, put the movie in."
Jensen shoves the disc into the player, then comes back to sit next to Jared, trying not to look like he's watching anxiously as Jared's hands rub the ointment into his thigh, the sudden whiteness of the skin there in stark contrast to his glowing tan.
"Not doing the spray-on tan thing anymore, huh?"
"What?" Jared looks up, follows Jen's gaze. "Oh." He chuckles. "I'm embracing my farmer's tan."
It's strange, the things he notices about Jared, now. He figures he took a lot of stuff for granted, but time and separation gives him fresh eyes and it's weird. Jared has this distinct smell to him, like earth under the smell of his Old Spice deodorant.
Jensen takes deep breaths, forces his eyes away from Jared's thigh and uncaps the vodka. Movie starts up and Jensen takes a swig, passes it over to Jared.
They watch for a while in silence, bottle exchanging hands, and Jensen tells himself it's just his imagination, that the vodka just goes down clear and runs hot, without anyone's taste lingering on the finish.
****
"We should do this." Jared's a little tipsy, to the point where he'd actually tipped over and is currently resting his cheek on Jensen's shoulder. He feels hot.
"Do what?"
Jared waves towards the screen. "A cartoon. I wanna do voiceover work, man. Easy money."
"You wanna work?"
"Very funny. I'm working."
Jensen leans back a little surprised, looking down at Jared. "You are?"
"Yeah, yeah. Did some weird little indie piece with Peter Berg."
"When?"
"I don't know." Jared pulls away, switches direction so he can rest his head on the arm of the sofa. "Like, last month. Was a short shoot."
"Why didn't you mention it, man? That's great."
"I just--it's not important. Just testing something out."
"Oh yeah?"
Jared nods. "Yeah."
"Testing what out?" Jensen prods.
"Not important. Look, we should--this is what I want to do. Me and you. We should do the next Toy Story movie. Toy Story 4. I can be like, the new model of Woody and you can be Buzz's son or something."
"They're toys."
"So?"
"How're they reproducing?"
Jared sits up, looks at him reproachfully. "It's a movie, Jen."
Jensen laughs. "Why do you get to be Woody?"
"Because I'm obviously the virile one." Jared wiggles his eyebrows lasciviously, provoking another laugh. "Also, you can hide your accent better than me."
"C'mon, man."
"No, really. You're a good actor, Jen."
Jensen laughs, embarrassed. "Easy, boy."
"Hey." Jared claps a hand over Jensen's, and apparently the kid's real intent on making this a serious conversation. "Hey. You are."
Jensen blushes. "I get it, you worship the ground I walk on, tell me something I don't know."
"I'm serious. You're goddamn great, Jen. And, and." Jared looks down, slowing to a stop, before snapping his head up and pouring out, "This movie's gonna be big for you, I can feel it. Everything's gonna change."
"Dude, relax." Jensen shifts nervously. "Vodka really isn't your drink."
Jared shakes his head. "Things are changing."
Jensen laughs at the little boy lost tone of Jared's voice. Wraps an arm around Jared's shoulders and tugs him near. "Not really. I mean, you're here on my couch, talking about how much you idolize me. Feels pretty much the same."
Jared doesn't laugh. "It's not. You're different."
"Dude, just because of the weight I put on?"
"Well, yeah." Jared smirks. "Fat, too, but different, Jen."
"What do you mean?" And fuck, that's starting to irk.
Jared looks at him, searching his eyes, and Jensen thinks it's stupid that, after half a year, he still hasn't learned how to stand up under that gaze. He drops his eyes and Jared sighs.
"It's weird, you know?" Jared runs one hand through his hair, stretching. "Went home, and Megan's like, a grown up. She's talking about this guy she met and how they're talking about getting married. My baby sister. Mom wants to retire from teaching and they might sell the house, move somewhere closer to Jeff and it's just--past few years, everything felt rock solid. You were my best friend, Sandy was gonna be my wife, and all of that--"
Jensen sighs, feeling uncomfortable, feeling out of place, fuck, just feeling for Jared. The break wasn't so clean for either of them, after Supernatural. "Hey, c'mon, Jay, don't go all maudlin on me. Things'll settle, you know that. It's gonna be just like normal before you know it."
"You think?" Jared's tone's challenging, something strange quivering there.
"Yeah, man, it's gonna be the same, or maybe be--"
Jared kisses him. So.
Nothing's gonna be the same.
Part Two