FIC: Thoughts like enemies (SPN RPS)
Title: Thoughts like enemies
Author: irisgirl12000
Character/Pairing: Jared/Sandy, Jared/Jensen implied
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is all fiction.
Word count: 1038
Notes: This fits with I don't want to know, Not the way I planned it, and I'll just pretend. It'll make more sense if you've read the previous bits. Title from the lyrics of I don't want to know, since that song is the theme of this whole story arc. Beta'd by the ever gracious a_carnal_mink, but then I tinkered with it more, so any mistakes? All mine.
Sandy doesn't know when her relationship with Jared started to go wrong, but she thinks she might know why.
She can't be right. It just can't be the way she's thinking of it.
Jared's not the kind of guy who'd cheat. And even if he were - which he's NOT - he's not gay. Not that, you know, Sandy has a problem with homosexuality or bicuriosity or whatever. She's made out with other women for work and for fun, and she likes Queer as Folk and Velvet Goldmine as much as the next person.
She and Jared have just hit a rough patch, if you can call it that, because they've spent so much (the majority, really) of the last year and a half apart.
She's standing there, telling herself that, when Jensen turns his head and sees her. She doesn't see a change in his expression, but Jared must, because he's already stiffening, ready to turn when Sandy walks over and slides her arm around his waist possessively. And really, she doesn't want to think about how well Jared must know Jensen if he picks up on such small nuances in his expression. She tells herself that it's because of the long hours they spend working together. Method acting, right?
It's time to go. Before she thinks about it too hard and there's no room left for denial. Which she's pretty much drowning in right now, thanksverymuch.
When she says as much, Jared objects, but Jensen nods equably and wishes her a good evening and safe trip back to LA. He's sprawled in one of the chairs by the window, sipping his coffee - dark roast, no sugar or cream, as Jared requested - paging through an open Sunday paper, probably looking for the sports section, when she and Jared leave.
The walk back to the truck is quiet, tense. Jared doesn't exactly lean away from Sandy, but he doesn't lean into her embrace, either. She can tell by the way his long legs eat up the sidewalk, setting a pace she just barely doesn't have to run to keep up with, that he's annoyed. Normally Jared's solicitous and courteous about that sort of thing - comes from years spent being miles taller than any girl he dated. But Sandy isn't in any frame of mind to confront him about his mood.
Instead, she thinks about the afternoon spent at the Space Centre. Alright, not a good idea. She thinks about the flight home, about the read-through she's got scheduled for Monday afternoon. Anything to keep from thinking about her and Jared, and about Jared and Jensen.
Yeah, no. Totally not working. Little things keep niggling at her, and she can't stop thinking, justifying, rationalizing. Denying.
Fewer phone calls? She can explain that - they're both busy, and they get tired of leaving unanswered voice mails.
Less frequent visits? Again, they've both been busy. They've got their careers, their own friends, and their schedules have been mismatched lately, making it difficult for them to see each other in L.A. and Vancouver very often.
The sex? Well, yeah, normally it's really hot. This weekend hasn't been bad, but it hasn't been the same, either. Because, not that she'd go public the way Joanna had about Jensen or anything, but Jared was usually really attentive and creative. And the last couple of nights he just… hasn't been.
Maybe she can find a work-related excuse for the bite mark bruise if she tries, but it leads her right back to Jensen; combined with the toothbrush, the soft smile, and the coffee (yeah, it's a stupid little thing, but totally a Jared gesture), it makes the conclusion pretty hard to avoid. It could be a coincidence. But it isn't. Some part of Sandy knows that, even if she doesn't want to recognize it.
Jensen. Fucking Jensen.
Not that Sandy thinks Jared IS fucking Jensen, she tells herself. Lies to herself, really; it's a hope more than a belief at this point. She knows her boy, knows that he crushes on people, and he's so affectionate and friendly that people can't help being affectionate back. So even if they're not fucking now, even if the bruise is from doing his own stunts, and the coffee beans are in his cabinet because Jensen sleeps on the couch when they've held a marathon of PS2 playing, she knows Jared's probably thought about it, that it could happen.
So. Jensen.
It's not like Sandy can't see the appeal. He's hot. And he's funny, although most people don't realize it because he's so shy in public. She hadn't thought he was really into guys, but she's been in Hollywood long enough to realize that gender isn't really an issue, especially as long as a person's activities stay on the down-low and out of the papers.
But at the same time, it makes her gut twist. Other than the obvious - hello, dick and balls, she can't compete with that and doesn't want to - what does Jensen have that she doesn't?
Well, duh. He's here. With Jared, nine months of the year. While she's in L.A. or New York or wherever there's an audition or a photo-shoot or whatever.
Sandy wonders which adage is more relevant here: Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Or Out of sight, out of mind?
She thinks she already knows the answer to that one.
When they pull into the parking spot at Jared's building, Sandy twists to face him, and before she even realizes what she's about to do, before realizing she's come to a decision, she asks, "How long have you been fucking Jensen?"
And maybe there's a tiny, optimistic part of Sandy that hopes that Jared'll laugh and tell her she's been smoking something good and why isn't she sharing, but Jared just looks at her with that deer-in-the-headlights expression, the one he'd worn when his momma caught them sneaking into the house after having sex in the pool during hiatus last summer.
Sandy'd like to believe that it's because he's amazed and appalled by the question, but she thinks there's a bit of relief under the shock and panic. Still, she isn't quite prepared for the answer when Jared clears his throat and whispers, "Four months."
Author: irisgirl12000
Character/Pairing: Jared/Sandy, Jared/Jensen implied
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is all fiction.
Word count: 1038
Notes: This fits with I don't want to know, Not the way I planned it, and I'll just pretend. It'll make more sense if you've read the previous bits. Title from the lyrics of I don't want to know, since that song is the theme of this whole story arc. Beta'd by the ever gracious a_carnal_mink, but then I tinkered with it more, so any mistakes? All mine.
Sandy doesn't know when her relationship with Jared started to go wrong, but she thinks she might know why.
She can't be right. It just can't be the way she's thinking of it.
Jared's not the kind of guy who'd cheat. And even if he were - which he's NOT - he's not gay. Not that, you know, Sandy has a problem with homosexuality or bicuriosity or whatever. She's made out with other women for work and for fun, and she likes Queer as Folk and Velvet Goldmine as much as the next person.
She and Jared have just hit a rough patch, if you can call it that, because they've spent so much (the majority, really) of the last year and a half apart.
She's standing there, telling herself that, when Jensen turns his head and sees her. She doesn't see a change in his expression, but Jared must, because he's already stiffening, ready to turn when Sandy walks over and slides her arm around his waist possessively. And really, she doesn't want to think about how well Jared must know Jensen if he picks up on such small nuances in his expression. She tells herself that it's because of the long hours they spend working together. Method acting, right?
It's time to go. Before she thinks about it too hard and there's no room left for denial. Which she's pretty much drowning in right now, thanksverymuch.
When she says as much, Jared objects, but Jensen nods equably and wishes her a good evening and safe trip back to LA. He's sprawled in one of the chairs by the window, sipping his coffee - dark roast, no sugar or cream, as Jared requested - paging through an open Sunday paper, probably looking for the sports section, when she and Jared leave.
The walk back to the truck is quiet, tense. Jared doesn't exactly lean away from Sandy, but he doesn't lean into her embrace, either. She can tell by the way his long legs eat up the sidewalk, setting a pace she just barely doesn't have to run to keep up with, that he's annoyed. Normally Jared's solicitous and courteous about that sort of thing - comes from years spent being miles taller than any girl he dated. But Sandy isn't in any frame of mind to confront him about his mood.
Instead, she thinks about the afternoon spent at the Space Centre. Alright, not a good idea. She thinks about the flight home, about the read-through she's got scheduled for Monday afternoon. Anything to keep from thinking about her and Jared, and about Jared and Jensen.
Yeah, no. Totally not working. Little things keep niggling at her, and she can't stop thinking, justifying, rationalizing. Denying.
Fewer phone calls? She can explain that - they're both busy, and they get tired of leaving unanswered voice mails.
Less frequent visits? Again, they've both been busy. They've got their careers, their own friends, and their schedules have been mismatched lately, making it difficult for them to see each other in L.A. and Vancouver very often.
The sex? Well, yeah, normally it's really hot. This weekend hasn't been bad, but it hasn't been the same, either. Because, not that she'd go public the way Joanna had about Jensen or anything, but Jared was usually really attentive and creative. And the last couple of nights he just… hasn't been.
Maybe she can find a work-related excuse for the bite mark bruise if she tries, but it leads her right back to Jensen; combined with the toothbrush, the soft smile, and the coffee (yeah, it's a stupid little thing, but totally a Jared gesture), it makes the conclusion pretty hard to avoid. It could be a coincidence. But it isn't. Some part of Sandy knows that, even if she doesn't want to recognize it.
Jensen. Fucking Jensen.
Not that Sandy thinks Jared IS fucking Jensen, she tells herself. Lies to herself, really; it's a hope more than a belief at this point. She knows her boy, knows that he crushes on people, and he's so affectionate and friendly that people can't help being affectionate back. So even if they're not fucking now, even if the bruise is from doing his own stunts, and the coffee beans are in his cabinet because Jensen sleeps on the couch when they've held a marathon of PS2 playing, she knows Jared's probably thought about it, that it could happen.
So. Jensen.
It's not like Sandy can't see the appeal. He's hot. And he's funny, although most people don't realize it because he's so shy in public. She hadn't thought he was really into guys, but she's been in Hollywood long enough to realize that gender isn't really an issue, especially as long as a person's activities stay on the down-low and out of the papers.
But at the same time, it makes her gut twist. Other than the obvious - hello, dick and balls, she can't compete with that and doesn't want to - what does Jensen have that she doesn't?
Well, duh. He's here. With Jared, nine months of the year. While she's in L.A. or New York or wherever there's an audition or a photo-shoot or whatever.
Sandy wonders which adage is more relevant here: Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Or Out of sight, out of mind?
She thinks she already knows the answer to that one.
When they pull into the parking spot at Jared's building, Sandy twists to face him, and before she even realizes what she's about to do, before realizing she's come to a decision, she asks, "How long have you been fucking Jensen?"
And maybe there's a tiny, optimistic part of Sandy that hopes that Jared'll laugh and tell her she's been smoking something good and why isn't she sharing, but Jared just looks at her with that deer-in-the-headlights expression, the one he'd worn when his momma caught them sneaking into the house after having sex in the pool during hiatus last summer.
Sandy'd like to believe that it's because he's amazed and appalled by the question, but she thinks there's a bit of relief under the shock and panic. Still, she isn't quite prepared for the answer when Jared clears his throat and whispers, "Four months."