Love is a Funny Thing 2/6
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Jensen blurts. He cringes when he hears a glass smack in the kitchenette where Danneel’s rinsing a few dishes. There’s a smattering of glass and the metal sink clanking together, and he waits until she steadies the glass, thankful it never shatters, to say more. “It’s not working out.”
When she appears in the doorway, she’s wearing a loose tank and faded cut-off shorts, both of which are streaked with dishwater. She looks adorable and messy-sexy all at the same time, and her plush lips turn down in a pout that could drive a man crazy.
“What’s not working?” she asks slowly.
“How easy do you think it is to leave the CW?”
“You are not quitting your job.” After a second, she appears confused. “Are you quitting your job?”
He sighs, long and put-off, like he so often does when face-to-face with the root of the problem. “I have to, Danneel. It’s killing me.”
Danneel tips her head and exaggeratedly slumps against the doorframe. Her arms hang loose like a puppet, and he fights to smile at the sight.
“Now you’re just mocking me. But I’m not kidding.”
“Jensen-” she starts on a sigh, only for him to flop his arms out and groan.
“You don’t know how hard it is.”
She snorts, and he fights the urge to fiip her off even as she joins him on the couch and curls into his side. “You’ve been through worse things.”
He pulls his arm out from under her and sets it on her back, fingers picking at the fabric of her tank. “Yeah, like what?”
“Like watching me have sex on set.”
Jensen shivers and blinks quickly to erase the image. At the base of all things, it’s hot, hotter than hell, to see Danneel naked and writhing. But it’s not helping either of them right now to discuss it. “Thank you for reminding me.”
“No problem,” she says nonchalantly. Then she burrows closer as if that’s all they need to settle this conversation.
“I just …” He drifts off and lets his sigh sit between them.
“It could always be worse.”
“It is worse. It’s the worst of the worst.” Jensen groans, pushing his head back into the couch cushion. He would pound his head right through it if possible, but he’s pretty sure that’s not what his mom meant when she called him hard-headed. “I have to watch him have sex.”
“So,” she drags out as she sits up to look at him. “Is your boss really running with the incest angle this season?”
“No, no, not that. He just, it’s Sam. It’s Sam with a girl. A werewolf.”
Danneel lifts an eyebrow. “Kinky.”
“Yeah. It’s so kinky, Jared’s been working out for weeks in prep.”
Curiosity, lust, and pain crosses her face in fast moments, which is pretty much what Jensen’s initial reaction was, too. Just how much more built could Jared get - especially while still young and working their kind of hours - then the porny images ran right through Jensen’s head, followed by the complete horror he’s had to face of Jared flexing and posing in every mirror he passes.
Jensen covers his face with his free hand and reverts back to five-year-old Jensen, where if he can’t see the world, it don’t see him. “I’m fucked.”
“I thought you liked to top.”
“I can switch,” he replies, as if he didn’t know she was still heckling him. But he knows.
She pulls his hand away from his face and tucks hers around it in her lap. “Just give it a go with him. We’re already well aware he likes you to some degree. The way he looks at you is not normal.”
“He has a girlfriend.”
“So do you,” she points out, smirking.
“Yeah, but you’re not real. He actually enjoys staring at her tits.”
Danneel pouts and then puffs out her chest. “And you don’t?”
He makes a face at her breasts just under his nose - thoughtful then confused - then rolls his eyes at himself for even considering them.
Another groan, “At the very least, maybe I’ll get fired.”
“So, you know it’s bad news to fall for your co-star, right? I mean, you get how monumentally this could fuck up the entire show and your contracts and both your reputations - not to mention mine. Right? You get that? You get that you - do not - fall in love - with your costar,” Eric complains.
Jensen takes a deep breath because he figures one of them should.
“You’re not a dumb guy. You’re from Texas, but you’re not stupid, right? I always thought you were the smarter of the two, and yet here we are,” Eric goes on, motioning around his office. It’s a short motion in a small space. The place isn’t any different than when Jensen saw it last year this time when they negotiated shooting schedules.
Now, however, he’s facing the neuroticism of their leader all by his lonesome.
“I get that you’re all cooped up in the middle of igloo nation and it’s just the two of you and that’s it, but it doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble in a co-worker’s pants.”
Jensen sits forward and feels like he just may be grasping onto a little idea here. “So, this is about Jeff,” he says more than asks.
“Jeff? Jeff, who? Wait, you fell in love with your dad?”
He stares at Eric pacing behind his desk. He didn’t know people really did that when not instructed to by malicious screenwriters. Eric Kripke may be making a name for himself and garnering decent respect, but he’s just five feet and a handful of inches of rail-skinny, thinning-hair fanaticism. He’s likely more in love with Sam and Dean Winchester than the girl behind the screenname BeckyWinchester4Life.
Jensen makes a confused noise. “You’re aware everything you’ve written is make-believe, aren’t you?”
Eric instantly looks off-kilter, stumbling when he makes an about-face in the middle of his path behind the desk. “What?”
“Jeff’s not my dad.”
“But you slept with him,” Eric says anyway.
“Well, I, and then he,” Jensen replies with a tight laugh. He shifts in his seat and crosses his arms like he’s amused and doesn’t give a shit. “Sleeping is a relative idea.”
Eric sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jensen gets an odd sensation that Dean is most definitely, entirely ripped out Eric’s wet dream for the man he wishes he could be, because it’s often Jensen’s sure Dean’s mannerisms are torn right from Eric’s life. Except with a cooler car, hotter chicks, and a hell of a lot more bravado.
But Jensen likes to think that last part is thanks to him.
He’s also like to think that Dean would give him more slack for screwing around with a co-worker who’s not so bad on the eyes.
“You do not fall in love with your costar,” Eric says slowly, roughly, as if it’s paining him to have this conversation.
“I’m not in love with Jeff.”
“With Jared, you idiot. You’ll kill the whole fucking show, alright?”
Jensen’s eyes widen and his mouth cracks open as he feels his nightmare creeping up on him and his job being tugged away from his warm, sweaty hands.
“You really think anyone’ll watch if you keep making goo-goo eyes at him?”
It takes a second for Jensen to act like it’s not bothering him. “When was I making goo-goo eyes at him?”
“When aren’t you?!”
“Right now,” Jensen replies, just to be an asshole. Because he’s not exactly happy about this conversation right here.
“You were being an idiot at the Teen Choice Awards, having him hang all over you like a goddamn ape.”
“I don’t see how that’s my fault, he did that -”
“Don’tfallinlovewithyourcostar!” Eric yells.
Jensen leans back in his seat and takes a deep breath. There are far too many thoughts and ideas and worries going through his head that he can’t do much more than stand, head out, and say, “Message received.”
And it is. The message has been loud and clear ever since he met Jared.
Jared is handsome and hilarious, and caring, and shameless, and warm and adorable. He has an irresistible charm for women and men alike - some want to be with him and others want to be his best friend. He’s also in a relationship with a very feminine woman, which absolutely confirms his sexuality.
Jensen is well aware of all of this, and yet he still fell for his co-star. He knows it’s bad news, awful luck, insane to continue on with their friendship strengthening along the way. But Jensen also can’t not be Jared's friend. Aside from ruining the show, Jensen just knows his life would be a little bit duller not having Jared’s presence after experiencing the hazy glow he leaves in his wake.
So, yeah, Jensen loves Jared more than what Jared thinks when they look at each other. Jensen hides it well. He’s a fucking actor, and he can play it cool and joke with his friend without giving away his big secret. It happens. Typical modern fairy tale: fall in love with your best friend who’s dating the head cheerleader.
Life goes on, Jensen can survive.
Still, falling in love with his co-star could be the stupidest thing Jensen has ever done. He’s dated guest stars, flirted his way around extras all the time, but not a full-time, side-by-side co-star.
He wonders if he can get Jared demoted to a recurring character
He’s back on set within the hour and the first person who really catches his attention is Jared. Which is just…bad news on all fronts. Because it could mean Eric was fucking right, and Jensen refuses to acknowledge that possibility.
“I heard Eric chewed your hide,” Jared mumbles round a big chew of a Twizzler.
“Yeah? For what?”
“Bein’ too pretty.” Jared grins before Jensen can actually comprehend what Jared’s said, and then Jared’s roughing his hand through Jensen’s hair as he laughs and heads off to wardrobe.
Right, because this makes it easier.
He plays it cool. At least, he thinks he does. He shoots Jared shitty, bored looks when Jared’s cracking stupid jokes, and he looks away before anyone can catch his smile.
He’s an actor. He’s a goddamn professional, and has been since he stepped foot in California to chase this dream. He can pretend he’s not in love with his co-star. Just like Dean pretends he doesn’t love his brother…or something.
The acting works. Especially when Jeff is back, and the three of them have to spend days on end in the hospital set.
Jensen just stalks around the room with Dean talking to himself, watching Sam and John argue, and there’s something stewing in Jensen’s stomach that says it’s more than just Sam there.
He wouldn’t say so, would leave Jared be. The guy’s probably just sinking low into Sam’s headspace right now, with Dean on his deathbed and John acting weird. But then Jeff has to get into it.
“Hey, kiddo,” Jeff’s low voice rumbles behind Jensen.
Jensen doesn’t flinch; he’s proud of that fact. Though he is slow to turn around. And to force a smile on his face. “I’m pretty sure we’re way past the kiddo stage,” he jokes.
Jeff chuckles, scratches at the edge of his beard, and lets out a long breath. “Yeah, speaking of…” Instead of finishing that, Jeff glances across the room where Jared and Kim are discussing a new approach to the Sam-John fight.
“Are you moving onto him next? Pretty sure that’ll be a hard sell.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but Jensen can’t deny the ugly twist in his stomach considering Jared with another guy.
He can compartmentalize Jared and women, because that’s what’s realistic. Another man… just, no.
Jeff eyes Jensen and sort of hmphs in this fatherly way. It’s very creepy. Jensen’s not up for lectures, especially from someone he knows as intimately as he does Jeff. “I’m just saying. It’s weird. How he’s behaving. He’s pushing too much here.”
Just then, Jared glances over at them, gaze not quite reaching Jeff but definitely Jensen. Jensen tugs his ear lobe and rubs the side of his neck, unsure where this nervous energy is coming from. Still, he admits, “I’m aware.”
Never one to be subtle, Jeff points between Jared and Jensen then swiftly walks off to craft services.
Jensen rolls his eyes then bites his lower lip when Jared approaches him, looking far too weirded out for words.
“So uh, he’s been odd,” Jared says quickly, and it’s so obvious that he’s nervous as hell to even say it.
“I’d say it’s you, Big Bird,” Jensen shoots back.
Jared looks deeply offended and rattles off, “You’re Big Bird, Big Bird.”
“Oh, smooth.”
“Shut up.”
“Yep, still smooth.” Jensen starts to smile, thankful they’re not talking about Jeff. Shit, even the not-talking about Jeff is killing him, so at least there’s something else on their minds now.
Jared stands tall, proud even, and juts out his chest. “You just wait. I’ll show you exactly how smooth I can be.”
There’s a small flutter in Jensen’s chest, and more than an ounce of truth when he says, “Been waiting since last year.”
“Oh, really?” Jared asks, lifting an eyebrow.
It only feels a little awkward, so Jensen sweeps it under the rug. He figures it’s better than Jared side-eying him and Jeff.
It gets fishier when they start up 02.03, Bloodlust, and meet their guest of the week.
Sterling Brown is six-foot flat. He makes Jensen feel tall. He also makes Jensen feel like he’s funnier than hell, because Sterling’s sense of humor relies less on fart jokes and snot rings, and more on witty rejoinders and mumbled side bars.
The three of them - Jared, Jensen, Sterling - they get along. Pretty damn well, actually, considering Sterling’s Gordon aims to kill without question and even gives Sammy a watchful look every so often.
Yet it’s Jared’s watchfulness that alarms Jensen. In between scenes, Jensen goes for natural, stretching his neck, tipping his head closer to Jared, and mumbling. “You alright, man?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Jared insists.
It sounds empty so Jensen gives him a look.
“So, you like Gordo, huh?” Jared tries to joke. And fails.
Jensen suddenly recognizes his greatest fear. That now Jared knows - knows knows - he will question any guy in a two-block radius for Jensen. “Gordo?”
Jared shrugs, like he couldn’t give a shit, but it’s obvious he does. And then Jensen’s reminded of the beautiful moment they shared with Jeff last season, when their faux-dad tripped out of Jensen’s trailer to Jared’s shock.
“You think because I talk to a guy, I automatically like him?”
Jared chuckles. “I don’t know. He’s kinda tall, dark, and handsome.”
Jensen’s eyebrow goes high and he feels giddy with the chance to whip it back at Jared. “You think Sterling’s handsome? Do you think I should ask him out? See if he’ll go to Homecoming with me?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Jared says, shoving Jensen away and moving on to his next scene.
Two days later, Jensen’s on set hours before he’s on the schedule. He’s watching the bustle of everything around him, people flushing the set with props and lights and scripts. He can’t not want to be here, especially to watch filming. He feels something crawl into his chest and tickle with the excitement around him.
That excitement twirls down into his stomach as he watches Jared trip into a bad fall during a fight sequence. When Jared gets back up, he’s clenching his fingers in and out with the tiniest wince marring his face.
Jensen reads it instantly and stands up from his director’s chair. He can’t not watch Jared, feels himself closing in as Jared walks away from the cameras, wrenching his hands over each other but being careful when he moves his left hand.
“You okay?” Jensen asks the second Jared’s within earshot.
Jared’s head picks up quickly and his eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Lemme see,” Jensen says before he realizes it. Even sooner, he carefully grabs at Jared’s wrist with one hand, the other spreading under Jared’s palm and nudging the fingers apart. Jared hisses and Jensen finds his eyes. “I don’t think you’re okay.”
Jared grunts and tries to pull his hand away; Jensen won’t let him. “Thank you, Dr. Ackles.”
Jensen’s set to bitch back or dig into Jared and mock him. Instead, he cups his hand beneath Jared’s so it rests easily. “You should get it looked at.”
“Got four more set-ups today.”
“They can wait.” Jared looks skeptical and Jensen softens his eyes in pleading.
Jared tips his head, just like one of his dogs, and stares at Jensen.
“We can wait, Jared.”
Turns out Jared can wait, too. He waits so long to get his hand looked at that the break sets badly and he has to get it fixed up and casted for weeks.
Jensen frowns in sympathy, but it doesn’t last long. Not when Jared’s struggling to grab props and handle a shovel. It’s damn hilarious to watch now.
“Can I sign your cast?” Jensen asks, all fake curiosity. “I wanna write you a love note so you can read it every night and morning, and know how much I worry and care about your stupid fucking arm that you wouldn’t take care of.”
Jensen just might really know the words for that note.
“You’re an asshole,” Jared replies with a rough laugh.
Jensen laughs with him. “Yeah, I know. You don’t know why you stick around.”
“It’s ‘cause you make me look good.”
“Not so much now,” Jensen says with a quick tug of Jared’s pinky.
The vibe has changed, from Season 1. The scripts are tighter, funnier, more clever. The set buzzes with energy as the whole crew just nails every day back to back because they’re growing together and making this the Little Show That Can and Does.
There are new locations, sharp guest stars, melodramatic twists, and, in a set-up that incorporates them all, shared holidays back in Texas.
“You’re bringing…Jared?” Jensen’s mom asks over the phone days before he’s set to fly home for break.
“No, I’m not bringing him,” he insists as he roams his hotel room, kicking at a leg on the luggage rack beside the TV. “He’s just…he’s coming down, too. He insisted.”
“I didn’t know you were making friends on set.”
“What? I have lots of friends on set.”
“Oh,” she says awkwardly. “I didn’t realize it was that kind of show.”
It takes a moment, but then he gets it. It’s his mother’s way of going around without venturing into the issue, and still trying to crack a joke. “No, I’m not. We’re not. It’s not that.”
It doesn’t matter, really, once they’re all down there. Jared and his family fit alongside Jensen and his own on Christmas Eve to a massive feast everyone’s chipped in for with a warm dish or two.
Even Sandy. Little, bubbly, adorable, warm, female Sandy, tucked into Jared’s side and smiling sweetly at Jensen.
Jensen returns it, turning on his acting chops. He has to look away, though, when Jared tugs her in tight with his mammoth hand curling around her ribcage and kisses the side of her head.
He can’t fill his glass of wine fast enough. At least he appears festive when he raises it with his, joins the family toast, and immediately tips it into his mouth.
All during dessert, Sandy and Jared recount their plans for Hawaii in the summer.
Jensen studies the wine bottle and wishes it were Jack, Johnny, or Jose.
Maybe there’s some in his old man’s liquor cabinet.
He’s fumbling with the latch on the cabinet when someone flicks the back of his ear then shoves him to the side, making him stumble down to his knee.
“I was gonna-” Jensen complains.
“You’re useless,” Jared mumbles, but he’s smiling and Jensen tries to not count it as a win.
Instead, Jensen raises the mental force-field he’s spent all week perfecting in anticipation of facing Jared being adorable with his family and Sandy. Mostly Sandy.
Jared gets the cabinet open and pulls a bottle out as he glances behind Jensen for company. They’re tucked into the corner of Jensen’s dad’s study and even with the door wide open, there isn’t much noise or threat for interruptions. Jensen slides down to sit next to Jared where’s leaning against the wall beside the cabinet.
Before Jensen knows it, Jared has opened a bottle of whiskey, taken a slug, and pushed it into Jensen’s hands. Jensen stares at the label, thankful and scared at the same time. He wanted to drink because of Jared, not with him. He sips quickly and passes it off.
“Sure hope you’re not driving,” Jensen murmurs, eyes right on Jared’s lips sealed tight around the lip of the bottle.
When Jared sucks in a breath with the whiskey burn, Jensen tears his eyes away and takes the bottle back.
“Nah, I’m not,” Jared replies. His voice is rough with liquor and doing things to Jensen’s resolve. “Your mama already gave us Josh’s old room.”
Jensen nods because it’s right to do, even if he hates the idea of Jared and Sandy crashing here, tonight.
He doesn’t hate her - he rather likes her. He just doesn’t like that she stands for Jared’s healthy heterosexuality.
They pass the bottle back and forth, but neither speaks a word. It’s eerie and quiet, yet soft and familiar. Especially when Jared rings his arm over Jensen’s shoulders and leans into him like they belong right there, just the two of them, together on Christmas Eve.
Jensen wakes in the middle of the night to vomit. He tells himself it was too much food mixed with even more liquor.
He ignores the tell-tale squeaks in the room next door.
“Alright, I got it!”
Jensen whips around to see Jared shaking his head, rolling his eyes, and hastily waving one of the wardrobe assistants off. He tugs the edges of Sam’s jacket and blows out a long breath that flips his hair off his forehead.
Jared suddenly glares at Jensen and widens his arms. “You ready or what?”
Well, Jensen thinks angrily, because he’s not about to take attitude from Jared. He hasn’t before, he won’t now. Not when Jensen’s nerves are already frayed from watching Jared flirt with Emmanuelle, both as Sam and as himself.
“Dude, chill out,” Jensen brushes off.
“Don’t dude me.”
Jensen puts his hand out, wanting to ask so many questions, because his patience is already nearly non-existent, and Jared acting out right now in front of the whole crew isn’t going to help. “Can we just get back to doing our jobs?”
“Oh, like I’m not pulling my weight?”
“Did I say that?”
“Practically,” Jared snaps back.
Jensen walks up to Jared and lowers his voice, but lets a lot of frustration and irritation through. “Why don’t you chill out and get back-”
“Why don’t you just stay out of my way?”
“You’re being a dick right now, you know that?”
Jared stares Jensen down, and Jensen refuses to budge.
Jensen is suddenly very aware of the silence on set. He’s perfectly capable of stepping back, shrugging it off, and jumping back into Dean. Except that Jared’s flaring nostrils and pissy little brow is challenging Jensen to stand his ground.
“Oh, fuck you,” Jared angrily sighs and walks off set, likely to his trailer.
Most everyone is watching Jared leave and Jensen finds Kim staring back at him.
“You girls okay?” Kim asks.
“Whatever,” Jensen grumbles and he stalks away, too.
In his trailer, Jensen stews. Fuck Jared and his bitchiness. His childlike impatience and temper. Screw Jared for being too damn likable and now hateable in the same minute, because Jensen’s sure if he didn’t have these deep of feelings for Jared, this moment wouldn’t be even a tenth as aggravating as it is right now.
They’ve had tiny pissing matches on set with all their hours spent together, little annoyances that dig into each other. But 99.9% of the time, they’re brushed away with a crappy joke or raised eyebrow. This feels completely different from every other misunderstanding they’ve ever had.
Though Jensen recognizes his stubbornness all the same. He’s been bending to Jared for nearly two years now. Sadly, he admits it’s been often of his own willingness. Like there’s no other option; there’s nothing he’d rather do. His want to follow Jared, be around and a part of his life, isn’t the healthiest thing to do when he’s carrying this unrequited love, but Jensen has to make a stand somewhere.
That feeling is so strong that when there’s knocking at the door, he refuses to budge from the game of Madden on his flat screen. There are another quick three taps followed by a quieter fourth, and he knows it’s Jared.
Once the door opens, Jensen drops his controller to the coffee table and rolls his eyes up to Jared.
“Dude, I’m sorry,” Jared mumbles.
“Don’t dude me.”
Jared chuckles lightly. “Alright, that was a total dick comment.”
“Total,” Jensen agrees with a nod and small smile. He can feel that stubbornness quickly wane and he’s almost partly annoyed with himself for it.
“I’m just tired.”
“We’re always tired.”
“I’m more tired,” Jared insists. “And I hate fighting. Especially with you.”
The way it all comes tumbling out sort of shocks Jensen, but then he reminds himself that it’s Jared. Once the guy has his thoughts straight, they usually just tumble out of his big mouth. “Yeah, let’s not do that again,” Jensen agrees.
“C’mon,” Jared says and then drags Jensen off the couch and pulls him into a hug.
It’s suffocating, given the tightness of Jared’s arms and the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body. Jensen can’t handle it for much longer and he pushes Jared away. “Alright, you big baby.” He shoves Jared towards the door and snorts. “Now you gotta go kiss and make up with Kim for being a diva on his set.”
“I’m all over it.”
“I liked Jared,” Jensen’s dad slips into the middle of an hour-plus phone call one chilly Sunday in February.
Jensen waits to speak and eloquently says, “Okay.”
His dad clears his throat, and in a way, Jensen wants to stretch this out as long as possible. Just for the torture. And laughs. “He seems like a very special friend.”
“Special.”
“Mmhmm.”
Jensen smirks. “Like Stacey Myers in second grade.”
“Yeah, kinda like that. I was certain you were in love with her.”
“I was seven.”
“And a nice boy,” his dad jokes.
“You know nothing’s going on with Jared, right?”
“Yes, of course, yes,” his dad says quickly. After a short silence, he adds, “But you did bring him to Christmas.”
“Did you notice his girlfriend sitting next to him?”
Instead of following that, his dad says, “Well, if you ever, you know, had a good friend, like that, it’d be okay.”
Jensen breathes deep, stares at the ceiling, and tries not to wince. This is his dad doing his best, and no matter how vague his family gets, or how much they side-step, Jensen knows they still care to some effect. “You’re killing me here, Dad.”
“I’m just saying.”
He huffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re always just saying.”
Before his dad can say more, Jensen’s phone beeps. He glances at the display to find a ridiculous, wide-eyed, slack-jawed picture Jared had taken of himself and stuck as his photo ID on the phone.
Awful timing. Really awful timing.
“You still there?” his dad asks.
“Yeah.” Jensen tries to ignore the draw of Jared on the other line, each little beep creeping under his skin. Still, he says, “I got another call. Can I let you go?”
“Hot shot’s all busy up in Canada,” he teases.
Jensen chuckles and says bye to his dad and hello to Jared.
“What’re you doing? I’m bored,” Jared says fast and easy.
He glances around his hotel suite and tries to identify something else to do with himself. Either way, it’s impossible to say no to Jared. He kind of hates it, even if he smiles.
“What’ve you got in mind?”
In February, it’s confirmed that John Winchester will return. It’s in ghost-form, but he’ll be crawling out of hell to help his boys. Jensen appreciates the symbolism. Jared doesn’t seem to appreciate the idea at all.
“He apologized to Sam, went to hell for Dean,” Jensen explains, as if Jared wasn’t there for that episode. He opens his hands across the bar-top table of the dingy lounge they met up in for a drink after they’d both read through the final two scripts of the season. “He comes topside to save them both. What’s your issue?”
“I don’t have an issue with it.”
Jensen watches Jared fidget and look off to the side. Big fat liar, that guy. “Then what? Are you afraid of dying? Coming back to life? You’re like the chosen one, resurrected by big brother Dean.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended by that comparison.”
“Take it or leave it, but you’re a total sourpuss right now.” Jensen huffs under his breath and takes a long sip from his pint of beer.
Jared sighs, tips his face to the ceiling, and then drops his head to stare at Jensen. He seems annoyed and worried at the same time. “The last time I saw him, he was with you and... you know,” he says flatly, motioning at a finger at Jensen.
Jensen stops in the middle of another swallow, crisp draft beer going lukewarm in his mouth. He works his throat to swallow the rest down and carefully sets his glass to the table. “It’s not a big deal,” Jensen says as level as possible. Jared had said he was cool about it, has been cool since Jensen came out to him. But maybe the whole matter was shoved under the rug until now. “It was just that one time.”
Jared shakes his head quickly and keeps his eyes on his glass as he gulps down a quarter of his beer. “Of course it’s not a big deal.”
“But you’re acting like it is.”
“I’m not trying to?” Jared replies with a small shrug. Now he looks terribly uncomfortable and it makes Jensen so, too. Suddenly Jared laughs and he shrugs more animatedly. “Look, I’d probably feel the same way if you slept with Sam and I had to face you two in the same room again.”
Jensen thinks about it and decides they don’t need to keep discussing the Jeff issue. He doesn’t want to. “Which Sam?”
“I don’t know.” Jared thinks for a few moments, holding his beer up to his mouth. “I think I’d actually like to imagine you and Ferris together. That woman would kick your ass.”
Jensen chuckles, glad they’re past the strangeness of the last hour. “Do you often imagine me having sex?”
Jared spits beer back into his glass, some of it splashing up to his face.
Jensen grins triumphantly and finishes his own beer.
In March, the crew brings out a cake to the makeshift Prison Yard. For his 30th, Jensen gets a few dozen burly, mean-faced extras singing to him. The jumpsuits really make it memorable.
Then he sees Jared’s wide grin, his bright eyes, and those humongous hands clapping with the rest of the set at the end of their off-key Happy Birthday. Jensen finds himself staring at Jared for so long that the cake is jostled into his bare arms to get his attention.
Jensen glances around the yard and rolls his eyes, even when he’s bubbling with warm feelings on the inside. He more than appreciates the well wishes. Still, he shakes his head and grumbles, “Y’all are so cute, ya know?”
“Make a wish!” someone calls out.
“Wish for Depends!” Jared calls out. A second later, he raises his voice an octave or two, “Yeah, you old man.”
“Oh, I am gonna,” Jensen grumbles as he slips through the crowd and jumps Jared.
They have enough training that they’re safe about it, but Jensen smoothly, quickly rolls Jared over to his side and wraps an arm around Jared’s torso and the other around his neck, then his own legs around Jared’s to keep him in place. Jared’s fighting to get out of the hold, laughing the whole time. He doesn’t get very far at all, and Jensen tightens his arms and legs just a little.
“Who’s the old man now?” he grunts in Jared’s ear.
Jared instantly goes tense and Jensen thinks back to Jared’s hatred for being tied up. Just as quickly, Jared goes loose and then slowly shifts when Jensen lets him up.
When they’re both standing, the crew is a mix of amused and annoyed by the ruckus. Jensen chuckles then yelps when Jared smacks him on the ass. “Let’s go, old man! We’ve got a show to make.”
Jensen knew filming 2.21 would be bad. But he didn’t expect it to be the biggest freaking motion of hitting the nail on the head.
Jensen’s getting in too deep filming Sam’s death. He knows he shouldn’t be going this far into himself. Yet he also knows it’s the most efficient way to get the scene done and to get it done right.
While the crew sets up, Jensen stays by the Impala. He leans against the side of the car with his arms bent across the top and his head buried in them. He forces himself into stricken breathing. He covers his head with his hands, burrowing down and thinking up the worst realities for him at this moment.
He doesn’t see the buildings for the sets, the pale moonlight for a strobe, or the cameras off to far end of the lot. When they call action, he turns and runs forward, shouting as Dean for his brother, but it’s Jared. He sees Jared stumbling forward. Hears Jared call for Dean. Feels a phantom strike of the knife in his own back, feels Jared’s spine tear apart, feels Jared’s life wither away.
When Dean drops down to his brother, pulling him forward, checking the wound, it’s really Jensen yanking on Jared, shaking him back to life with no luck.
Jensen clutches Jared, squeezes the last breaths out of him, and imagines this is real. He doesn’t imagine Sam dying. It’s Jared.
The tumble of his stomach and spike of his heartbeat is so goddamn real, Jared dying might as well be.
It doesn’t matter when they call cut. Jensen still feels it deep in his gut. And it doesn’t matter when they’re done for the day with hard slaps on the back and Jared’s smile keeping him company on the ride back to their places.
For the first time in a long time, Jensen says no to Jared. He doesn’t want to go hang at Jared’s and play Madden. He doesn’t want to sit around, shooting the shit and drinking wine or beer or even tequila. All he wants to do is go back to his hotel, drop into bed, and sleep until tomorrow.
He wakes in the morning to the rough scrape of yesterday’s jeans and the stale smell of his undershirt. His eyes burn from the contacts he never bothered removing. When he gets to the bathroom, he blames the contacts for how red and scratchy his eyes look. His sunken skin and cracked smile say otherwise, tell him he should know better than to lie to himself.
Seems like Jared’s not buying it either because once Jensen’s in the SUV to head back to set, Jared’s watching him every few minutes. Jensen slips a finger behind his sunglasses to itch the corner of his eye. When Jared keeps looking, Jensen mumbles. “What now?”
“You look like shit, man.”
“Thank you very much,” he replies.
“Did you go out drinking all night?”
“No.”
Jared rests his arm on the back of the bench seat and lightly drums his fingers at Jensen’s back, a steady little tap-tap-tap. It’s strangely comforting - not annoying like it usually is. It reminds Jensen that they were acting yesterday, and they’re both still alive. As if he had to be told twice.
“Just tired,” Jensen murmurs, leaning into Jared’s hand for the added weight of it against his neck. “It’s been a long season. A lot of stupid crying over your dumb ass,” he jokes.
Jared swats Jensen’s neck and snorts. “Last time I feel sorry for you, you dick.”
“You don’t ever have to feel sorry for my dick. My dick is quite fine.”
Laughing, Jared covers his face with a big palm and shifts towards the window. “I do not want to be thinking about your dick right now.”
Jensen manages a small smirk, glad they’re relatively normal again. “Only right now?”
“Not when I’ll be all draped in your arms.”
Right, they’re taping more coverage pre-dawn, and Jensen has to go through the horror of Jared dying again. Pushing past it, he asks, “But you’re okay thinking about my dick all other times.”
Jared laughs, bites his lip, and shakes his head as he looks away. “Don’t you wish.”
Filming the season two finale is the worst experience and yet the best. Kim sucks Jensen right in and protects him, gives him space, silence, whatever he needs so that Dean can break down in front of his dead brother.
For the second week in a row, Jensen dares himself to imagine he’s lost half his soul. He pours himself out in that dingy room, tears threatening to spill, voice cracking, and Jared completely still on the mattress as if he really were dead.
It takes a few times to get it all down for coverage, but it’s solid the first time and they all know it. Jensen felt it hard enough, down into his bones. The crew filters into the room to break the scene, Jared pops up off the mattress with a warm smile, and Jensen takes a long breath. He runs his hand down his face, thumb and forefinger wiping his eyes, and he returns Jared’s soft look.
Jensen sees that same soft smile from everyone through the rest of filming. He tries to ignore the fact that none feel as comforting as Jared’s.
At the wrap party, he drinks easily, laughs lightly, and keeps up with enough conversation to not seem removed from it all. He so feels like it, though. At one point, he drifts to the edge of the crowd and lifts himself up onto a catering table. He leans back to the wall and lets his legs dangle off the sides.
He smiles to himself and watches everyone go on. He loves this place, these people, this job. He wants - needs - the break for summer, but he really doesn’t want to take it. He knows they’ve all gotten so good this season; he hates to see them stop right now.
Jared finds him some time later and passes a fresh drink before he slips onto the table right next to him.
Jensen smiles a little. He kind of likes that Jared’s come for him. Still, he jokes, “Dude, you’re crashing my party.”
“Pretty lame party,” Jared replies. “Run by the lamest of the lame.”
“And yet you’re here. Did everyone else snuff you out?”
“Jerk.”
Jensen smirks. “Bitch.”
“Dick.”
“You ever notice you talk about dick a lot? Especially lately?”
“I figure it makes you feel better. About liking it and all.”
When Jensen turns to stare at Jared, Jared snorts through his sip then coughs when he takes a rough swallow. “Yeah, you deserve that.”
Jared laughs, nudging his leg alongside Jensen’s. His leg feels heavy and hot along the whole length of Jensen’s, and Jensen figures there’s no harm in pressing into the touch and slapping his hand down around the meat of Jared’s thigh and squeezing. They’ve both drank enough and they’re mostly out of sight now.
“You ready to kick a little La Bamba ass?” Jared asks.
Jensen smiles as he thinks about the play he’s going home for, co-starring alongside Lou Diamond Phillips. He’s excited, sure, but also dreading a whole summer working while Jared’s off doing his own thing. “Of course. How’s about you?”
Jared nods far forward and back, shoulders and body rocking with it. “I’m excited. It’ll be nice to get a break, do something different.”
Jensen hums and takes a long drink. When Jared prods his side, Jensen knows Jared wants to know what’s bugging him. Smiling, he says, “I like Sam and Dean. Kinda sucks they’re hitting their stride and we’re gonna spin our wheels all summer.”
“Even Sam and Dean need a break.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t wanna give ‘em one.”
Jared’s quiet long enough that Jensen glances over and Jared’s fondly smiling at him. Suddenly, Jensen rather adores all of Jared and is reminded of the feelings he has wrapped up tight inside him. For a second, he considers leaning in and setting their smiles together, feeling Jared’s lips turn up against his own. But it’s just a flash, because he can’t have that and he’s accepted it long ago.
“A break will do us all good,” Jared says. “We’ll come back after spending all summer missing each other and be fresh as rain.”
“You gonna miss me, Jared?” he asks, lifting his voice at the end with what he’s hoping is a cute, slightly mocking look.
Jared drops his eyes to his forgotten drink and flips his lips out. “Maybe a little.”
“You’re so adorable when you lie,” Jensen taunts.
“Shut up,” Jared laughs. He elbows Jensen. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be home. You’ll be selling it on stage all summer long you’ll hardly notice the time pass.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It doesn’t really work that way.
Of course, Jensen loves seeing his family. And he kicks ass in rehearsal, sure. He works as hard as he does when he slips into Dean’s skin, but it’s not the same. He’s not looking at Jared across the way and he’s not feeling the same familiarity and ease from these co-stars as they trade lines.
It’s not the same, and he can’t ignore the cold pit in his stomach as time slowly creeps by.
The cheers at the end of opening night are encouraging and satisfying. Everything feels a little brighter.
Jensen feels a little less lost.
At the end of the next night’s first act, there’s a difference. Something loud and sharp off on one side of the crowd. Jensen can’t see anything beyond the stage lights and he can’t really dissect one noise from the rest.
Somehow, though, he knows what it is. He can feel it, and suddenly he’s warm all over. That chilly, dark piece of him melts away and he grins to the crowd because he can hear Jared’s voice, and goddamn, it’s good.
