In Production- Part One (J2) NC-17
Title: In Production
Author: reccea
Artist: waterofthemoon
Genre: RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Master Art Post
Master Fic Post
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five and Epilogue
Part One
The strip of skin on his ring finger is bright white, a sharp contrast to the golden tan of the rest of his hand. Jared runs his thumb over it, the way he used to twist the ring along his finger. He can almost feel the smooth warmth of the metal circling his finger. He should use sunscreen more, he thinks irrationally. All he needs is to be the George Hamilton of his generation.
He doesn't know anyone's near him until Jensen says, "Something I should know?"
Jared starts, his heart doing a half skip ahead, and he turns to find Jensen standing right next to him, looking at his left hand amused.
"I'm a free agent." Jared practiced saying it all afternoon, and he still sounds stilted. He's a damn good actor, but he's never been able to treat his life like another script.
The amusement drains from Jensen's face, replaced by genuine surprise. He looks around, eyeing the drunk, giddy people nearby, then takes Jared by the arm and steers him towards the patio. The patio is pretty full up, but there's an empty corner outside of the smoker's circle. Jensen grabs two beers from a passing waiter and makes a beeline for it. There's a small table in the corner, five chairs too close together. Jensen nods towards the chairs farthest from the crowd and they go around opposite sides, pushing the other three chairs away so they can at least sit comfortably.
Jensen passes Jared a beer and waits, eyes careful and searching.
Jared takes a long drink, not wanting to speak now that his one good line's fallen flat.
"I wasn’t serious," Jensen says after a minute. He sets his beer down towards the middle of the table and looks at Jared over it.
Jared lost his first wedding ring on a set before his six month anniversary and it had taken three months, Jared’s lawyer working overtime, and Jensen conquering eBay to get it back. Jared never wore it to a set anymore and always went barehanded to parties if he left directly from work. So his ringless finger wouldn't merit a comment from anyone, not even the rags, and Jensen's joke was old hat.
"Yeah," Jared says, shifting his seat, trying to get comfortable and knowing it's not going to happen. "I know."
"Do you...," Jensen waves one hand around, encompassing the idea of talking without actually doing it himself.
"Long time coming," Jared says because he doesn't know how to explain it. Falling out of love isn't anything new, but it is new for him. He still loves everyone who's mattered to him. "I got a new place in the hills, but nothing's formal yet." By formal he means no papers have been filed and no publicity statements composed. He's called his parents, but that's it. There's probably a system to it, certain groups of friends he needs to call before the general public reads all about it. But he doesn't want to call anyone. And he doesn't want to make it Sandy's problem either.
Sandy's friend Tara sent out divorce announcements when she finally left her asshole of a husband. They were nice, thick paper and fancy ink, like wedding announcements, complete with a fancy party and a big damn cake. Let all of her friends celebrate her newfound freedom before the lawyers had even started hashing out a settlement. She'd been pretty angry.
But Jared isn't angry, and he doesn't have a reason to celebrate. He's sad, a little heartbroken, and upset that he isn't more of both. He feels almost like a failure, like he's one step off from it, and you don't go around announcing that.
"Okay." Jensen nods, more to himself than anything, and then he looks out at the world outside the party. There are paparazzi not too far off in the bushes, taking pictures of some couple who shouldn't be coupling, probably. "I'm here if you need me." Which is Jensen's way of saying he'll wait, and Jared's grateful for it. He's not ready yet. Stupid to say anything before he was ready, but it's been bubbling up in him for weeks and he couldn't keep it down.
Jared toes one of the stray chairs and drags it closer so he can kick his legs up on it. "Heard you dropped out of the Reitman thing." Work is a safe topic and hell, there are a bunch of others but all of Jared's teams are tanking this season and he's too bogged down with his show to be up on any new games, systems, or even fucking movies.
"Timing sucks. Pick ups for Beggar's Chance had to be pushed back," Jensen sighs and settles down low in his chair. "I need more than a week off between three movies, you know? So I dropped out and I'm taking next spring off."
Jared shakes his head. "I'm telling you, lead in an ensemble show. Guaranteed summers off, a month at Christmas and honest to fucking god weekends off."
Jensen gives him a look, smiling because it's an argument three years old and still neither of them would trade. Jared relaxes enough that some of the tension in his shoulders finally bleeds off. He gets into shop talk, this director versus that, the episode they're finishing up and the direction the season's heading. For the last year he's held an executive producer credit and he's doing his best to take it seriously and put in the hours it deserves.
Jensen's finishing up a press tour and has the normal, comfortable complaints about jet lag, reporters and hearing the same question fifteen times a day. Jared likes that it's always this way, a half a moment to adjust and then they're back into it, close as if they'd never parted to begin with. Still the same two guys who'd been thick as thieves at first sight.
"Jesus," Jensen says, out of the blue. He shakes his head and the smile on his face is more surprised than anything else. "Every time I get used to looking at you, you go and change."
Jared can hear the compliment in it, that Jensen means 'improve' more than he means 'change' and it's the bolster Jared's been needing all night. "Can't get complacent."
The truth is, Jensen's changed more than he has, Jared's pretty sure. The fine lines around his eyes aren't as fine as they used to be, and there's gray peppered in his light hair, if you looked close enough. He's still gorgeous, maybe more so than before. Getting older looks more like maturing on Jensen, like he's just been growing into who he meant to be, not that he's leaving behind the glory of his youth. It figures, really, that forty suits Jensen.
"Nah," Jensen shakes his head. "Get complacent and that hair of yours is bound to launch a revolution."
Jared laughs, a real sharp surprised bark that he feels down in his chest. He kicks at Jensen's feet under the table, grins when Jen curses and kicks back in self defense. "You wish you had hair like mine," he says, pushing his near-empty bottle to the edge of the table.
"Keep dreaming." Jensen gets a swift kick through Jared's defenses, looking smug when Jared swears loudly.
Jared laughs again, reaching down to rub at his calf. He feels relaxed and actually glad he'd come to the opening instead of heading home at the end of the day.
Jensen taps his fingers on the table, the beat of a song Jared can't place. The smile on Jensen's face fades into something a little more somber, lines easing around his mouth and tightening at his eyes. "Why'd you come? Tonight, I mean."
"Same reason you did." Jared answers without thinking. "Tom's a friend and I promised to come and get my picture taken for the opening." After a moment, Jared ducks his head and runs his fingers over the smooth wood of the table. "And it's better than a night alone."
"Have you moved out?" Jensen moves his feet to bracket Jared's. Jared can barely feel it through the leather of his shoes but the gesture's enough.
"Two weeks ago." He reaches out, takes the last drag off his bottle. He admits, "Still don't have anything but a TV and a bed. And it's a big fucking house."
A waitress comes up on them then, making noise enough to warn them. She's been pretty well trained. "Can I get you anything?"
"Nah," Jared shakes his head. "I'm all good. Gonna head out in a few."
"Same here," Jensen says, smiling politely.
She backs away with a sincere, "Let me know if you change your mind," line and bustles through the crowd to a younger set with a longer night ahead and bigger tips to give out.
"I've been up since three," Jared says after a minute. "Stayed here longer than I planned."
"I'm irresistible is all." Jensen takes the cue, standing up and stretching his arms out like he's been cooped up for days.
Jared stands as well, reaching over to clap a hand hard on Jensen's shoulder. "Thanks, man."
"Don't thank me," Jensen says, shaking his head. "You're just my excuse to the fifty people inside I've spent the night avoiding."
"Nice try, man." Jared pushes Jensen towards the exit and the valet station. "Nice try."
Jensen hands off his ticket to the valet before he says, "Brunch tomorrow." It's not a question, but Jared can tell there's an out there if he needs it.
Jared grins into the night. "When did we start 'doing brunch'?"
Jensen reaches over, smacks him hard in the center of his chest. He says with a wry smile, "When we got too old to drink at one of these things and still make it out of bed for breakfast."
"Wow, you're that old, huh?" Jared takes a strategic step back. "I thought it was when you got famous enough to make your own schedule."
Jensen manages to get a punch in, a gentle push against Jared's chest. He's got a comeback, Jared can tell by the tilt of his mouth, but Jensen doesn't say it. The valet pulls up in a sleek black convertible.
"You got a ride home?" Jensen takes a step down the stairs, holding out his hand for his keys.
"I'm good." Jared fishes his number out for another valet to take.
Jensen frowns, stepping out in front of his car. "You're sure," he says, quiet and far enough away now that Jared barely hears him. "I mean you're good on your own?"
Jared's stomach goes warm and his smile this time is easy, natural and unconscious. "Yeah," he nods. "I'll be good."
"Okay," Jensen relents, finally walking around to the open driver's side door. "Brunch tomorrow?"
"I'll call you before I head over." His car pulls up behind Jensen's and Jared takes the steps two at a time.
"Night, man." Jensen gets in his car.
Jared gives Jensen a mock salute as his car pulls out, and then he passes the valet a tip, gets into his driver's seat, and remembers not to go to the wrong house.
The first summer after Supernatural was over, Jared had a movie to film in LA and no time to think about anything, let alone about not coming back to Vancouver in July. And every night, when he got back to the house he owned in the city, he would pick up his phone and call Jensen.
Jensen didn't always answer--he was filming in Georgia, and half the time he was asleep before Jared got off set. But when he did answer, the two of them would make plans like there was a definite point in time to look forward to. Like there was some set schedule where they'd be in the same place, on the same schedule, in each other's space like always.
Jensen filmed three movies in that first year, two bit parts and the one that made him, and Jared guested on six different shows and filmed one comedy. They saw each other ten times, once just a freak hour layover in the same LAX terminal, and Jared never felt a distance.
Mostly when you stop filming with someone, you stop hanging out with them too. The only friends you're supposed to keep in Hollywood are your entourage or the people you got trashed with on your own time. And Jensen's career hit the stratosphere a good two years before Jared's did, so the chances of them making a decent friendship out of five seasons in Vancouver were next to nothing.
But Jared's always been good at defying the odds and embracing a challenge.
And anyway, Jensen's never been the type to let go of someone he connected with.
Jared picks Jensen up a little before 11am, and Jensen directs him to the restaurant. Over the years, Jensen's picked up a knack for finding places the paparazzi don't know and this one is no exception. The parking is non-existent, and Jared has to parallel into a tiny space outside of a duplex. He follows Jensen half a block and then onto the main drag. The restaurant is a small place that looks like it used to be somebody's house. The seating is outside, on a wooden deck, with a second level around the edge that's a good five feet higher. It really does look like someone's deck, a house party with wooden tables and chairs spread out and white Christmas lights scattered across the hedge that serves as the border between the tables and the sidewalk.
They're shown to a table in the front corner. Jensen sends the waiter away with an order of coffee for himself and water for them both. Jared doesn't say anything, content with water and too busy taking the place in to bother with the beverage menu. They're on the higher level of the deck, right up against the hedge. He can look to his right and see the people walking right by him, see the tips of their heads over the green, and he knows Jensen can see the traffic going the other way. Jared feels exposed, but not particularly vulnerable, and more a part of the general public than he has in a good long while.
Jensen cleans his sunglasses on the edge of his t-shirt and slips them back on before picking up his menu. "The chocolate chip pancakes are good."
Jared looks away from the sidewalk, back to Jensen. As far as Jared knows, Jensen's been on a pretty strict diet since he hit thirty. Chocolate chip pancakes aren't on that diet. Jensen smiles and shakes his head, looking down at the menu in his hand, thumbing through the pages. "Suit yourself."
When the waiter comes back with Jensen's coffee and the ice waters, Jensen does order the chocolate chip pancakes. Jared orders his eggs, hash browns, and bacon, and only orders the pancakes when Jensen arches an eyebrow at him. He bites his cheek to keep from laughing. He can't decide if it's more childish to order chocolate chip pancakes or cave to peer pressure.
"So, you finish up the promo tour, and then what?" Jared drinks half the cup of water in one go.
Jensen grabs three sugar packets from the small white dish at the center of the table, ripping them up and pouring them into his coffee. "Filming in Paris until mid-August."
Jared has been to Paris a handful of times, mostly for promotional tours and premieres, and once for a two week set of exterior pick ups. He's spent more time in Cannes, all things considered. "Must be nice." Under the table he kicks Jensen's shin.
Jensen kicks him back and pours a small dollop of cream into the cup, stirring until it's a tan color. "The best part is the movie, believe it or not. This time travel thing. It's like half James Bond, half Dr. Who."
Jared slides down further in his seat, stretching his legs out, feet braced against the wall behind Jensen's chair. "Thought you swore off genre after that awful astronaut thing."
Jensen frowned. "We agreed not to talk about that." He moved his left leg a few inches, pressing his calf to Jared's.
"I reserved the right to all avenues of mocking after your salary hit fifteen million." Jared tilted his chin down and raised both his eyebrows.
The corner of Jensen's mouth goes up, fighting a smile. "Fair enough."
"Anyway, I thought you were the big Drama Guy now." Jared finished his water, ice cubes clicking against his teeth.
Jensen takes a sip of his coffee , keeping the edge of the cup against his mouth. "No typecasting."
The waiter comes back with a platter piled high. The pancakes are deposited on either side of them and the rest of Jared's meal is set right in front of him. The pancakes look like big fluffy chocolate chip cookies, and Jared moves the plates around so he can eat the pancakes while the whipped cream is still melting. And Jensen was right. They're fucking awesome.
Jensen flags the waiter down when he's one down on his pancakes, asking for a glass of milk, and Jared has to laugh at him. "You eat like a five year old."
"Whatever, man." Jensen shrugs him off. "I remember when your green room requests were licorice and gummy bears."
The waiter brings a huge glass of milk and grins at Jared. Once he's gone, Jared leans close, whispering conspiratorially, "I think he heard me."
Jensen shakes his head. "The whole place did." It's probably true. Jared's never exactly been a quiet guy.
Jared finishes off his pancakes in relative silence, listening to the varied conversations of the passerbys beyond the hedge. It's weird, but it feels nice to just stop for a moment and breathe. His life has been at breakneck pace for so long that he's starting to feel like his breath is caught in his chest.
"So, I've got that premiere on Wednesday." Jensen eyes Jared's eggs.
Jared moves his glass of water in front of his plate, giving Jensen a look. "At the Kodak, right?" Some of the crew lived near there, and there'd been a lot of on-set bitching about the traffic being at Oscar levels.
Jensen sets his fork down on Jared's plate in silent surrender. "Yeah. It's going to be this stupid insane thing, and everyone we know and hate is going to be there."
"Sounds like quite the party." Jared finishes off the eggs and pushes the rest of his hash browns towards the back of his plate, near Jensen's abandoned fork.
Jensen pushes at his fork, making a small dent in the potatoes. "Think you can get out of work early?"
Jared looks away from the plate to bat his eyelashes over dramatically. "Jensen, are you inviting me to your premiere?"
Jensen shrugs. "I need a trophy date."
"I haven't had enough plastic surgery to be a trophy date." Jared folds his hands down on the table.
Jensen throws a sugar packet at his forehead. "Dude, you don't need plastic surgery."
The sugar packet bounces off his forehead, and Jared catches it with his right hand without blinking an eye. "Aw, that's so sweet honey."
Jensen picks up his mug, puts his mouth to the rim. "It'll be fun."
Jared pushes at Jensen's plate. "What, looking at your face in hi-def for two hours?"
Jensen gives him a cocky grin that was all attitude and not much truth. "That too."
Jared's seen the posters all around town, on billboards and along several buildings. Jensen's face plastered across any available surface, and not as airbrushed as he'd have guessed. "You don't have anybody fun to take with you?"
Jensen drains his mug and set it down. He catches the waiter's eye and gestures for the check. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."
Jared sucks a smudge of chocolate off his thumb. "You just better make it worth my while, boy."
Jensen cracks up, grin wide and real and so familiar it makes Jared laugh too.
Filming on Monday is hectic, one of those days where everything goes wrong, everyone's pissed off, and nothing gets done in a reasonable number of takes. Bob Singer’s on set, so he and Jared have lunch together and go over the latest draft of the finale. The season is winding down fast, there are rewrites of the final episode being passed out constantly, and there are still two episodes to go before they film it. Jared's character, Jake, has had an easy season so far, the drama's been mostly about the secondary characters, but that's going to flip right over for the last two episodes. It's going to be a sudden change and his character is about to take an emotional nose dive so Jared concentrates on coming off as a solid, dependable constant so that the audience won't see the crack coming. A part of him thinks it's pretty funny that playing happy is so fucking exhausting when playing doomed and tormented is like slipping into a familiar skin.
Tuesday goes smoother, not as many takes and not as many tempers. Allison has morning sickness like hell all day so they do have to move things around. Jared's last scene of the day isn't one he's had time to actually memorize so he's there a lot longer than he needs to be. He gets another rewrite just as he's heading for his trailer, and he tries his best to smile at the PA who passes it over. Jared doesn't like being the guy who takes a long day out on someone else, but lately it's been hard not to. He drops his prop wedding ring in the dish on the trailer counter, climbs into the track suit he'd worn to the set, grabs his wallet and his script and heads out. He reads the rewrites on the drive home, too tired to try memorizing anything. He hums along to the classic rock station the driver always has on low. The script is getting closer to a final draft. The scenes have been trimmed down and the dialogue's sharper.
He only turns on a few lights when he gets back to his new place, dumping his stuff on the entry table and making a beeline for the kitchen. He opens the fridge door and blinks at the brightness of the light in the pitch black kitchen. There's cold pizza and three Coronas, and it looks like the inside of the fridge in his first apartment. He needs to go shopping or, since he doesn't have a lot of time, have his assistant do it. He hates waiting in the lines at the grocery store. Half the time he's on the cover of one of the tabloids by the ten items or less aisle, and the people around him near sprain themselves doing double takes.
He eats the pizza, downs one Corona, and then collapses on his cold, unmade bed. He buries his face in one of the pillows, which smells like the citrus shampoo he's almost out of. He's still getting used to the bed; it's a bit firmer than the last, better for his back but it makes it harder to sleep because it's not his bed and it's not his house. He rolls over onto his back, looks at the flat white ceiling, and takes deep even breaths. He has early call the next day and hopefully a long night after, so he shifts until he's mostly comfortable, closes his eyes. He silently mouths lines for the next day's scenes, falling into a steady rhythm until they aren't words just syllables, and then he's asleep.
All day Wednesday he's bouncing off the walls. He's driving the crew crazy but they all seem to be smiling in spite of themselves. He has a one-two take day, always hitting his mark and nailing the lines each time. He's getting out early, and his body is thrumming. He can't remember the last time he was excited about a premiere, but it's less about the premiere and more about the solid four hours of complete distraction that he's got coming.
The car that waits at the edge of Jared's driveway doesn't belong to Jensen. It's not a limo. Jensen doesn't often do limos, since he doesn't go with an entourage and he doesn't like to drink before he gets there. The car's a new model, sharp, and expensive that Jared should be able to name but he was just never as into cars as Jensen was. He knew what he liked and that was good enough.
When he climbs in the back, Jensen's sitting there in a tux that is classic forties Hollywood and looks so good that Jared feels a little uncomfortable in his suit. He takes the seat next to Jensen, stretching his legs as best as he can.
"Hey." Jensen's halfway through a bottle of water, and there's another full one in the cup holder near Jared.
Jared grabs the water, uncaps it, and takes a sip. "You sure it's a good idea, me coming with you?" He leers for effect.
Jensen flicks Jared's knee."There's a new article out about how I'm sleeping with Dakota Fanning, so yes, it is."
Jared snickers but says seriously, "You never comment about those things anyway. So what does it matter?"
Jensen grins. "Yeah, but half the questions are going to be directed at you, so don't think for a minute you're gonna wander off and say hi to people. You're my date tonight, and you're gonna have to earn your way."
Jared laughs, full and loud. "You're still total shit at these things, aren't you?"
Jensen shakes his head, smiling despite himself. "Don't consider that an invitation to grope me in public, okay? We have passed that phase."
Jared does grope Jensen on the red carpet, mostly because Jensen told him he couldn't. He wraps a leg around Jensen's hips, both arms over his shoulders and is rewarded with a quiet sigh and a resigned, "Seriously, you're an octopus," from Jensen. It's really pretty funny, and he hopes good pictures will show up online, because he hasn't done that in years, and he can see from Jensen's face that it's had the same effect it used to. The guy looks almost relaxed, his smile real and crinkling the corners of his eyes.
It's a face Jared's familiar with, but not one the photographers are. If Jen has a reputation for being cold and difficult, it's only because he's never really acclimated to a thousand flashes blinding his eyes and a half dozen questions a minute about his personal life that he refuses to answer.
Jared figures at the very least, he's given the magazines something to talk about that isn't which way-the-hell-too-young starlet they've decided Jensen is involved with now.
"He's on some TV show," Jensen says to the new talking head for E!, Alicia. She laughs, looks delighted that Jensen Ackles is actually joking with her.
"Only the second highest rated show on television," Alicia says to the camera, and Jensen gives Jared a sidelong look, eyes bright.
Jared takes the unspoken cue, composes his face into a mockery of seriousness, and says, "It's amazing I let myself be seen with this nobody."
"Well, to be fair, I paid him a lot of money to be here," Jensen says, deadpan.
"A lot of money," Jared agrees.
Melissa Rivers interrogates Jensen about his suit, and he's happy to oblige, right down to the maker of his cuff links. The reporter from NBC asks Jensen about the rumors of a relationship with his co-star, and Jensen switches topics without missing a beat.
"You're not, right?" Jared whispers as they move down the line, because he's seen pictures, and Hudgens's on enough drugs to be well into Lohan territory.
"God, no." Jensen grimaces. "The girl can't string two sentences together. And I'm not even sure she remembers how to eat."
Predictably, the guy from Us Weekly tries to get a comment about Dakota Fanning, and Jared extricates them as quickly as possible.
They get inside, and it's all business, making nice with people who'll give the rags a rude quote if the price tag has enough zeros. Jensen introduces Jared to the director, Grabeel, who's the next big thing with three decent low budget action flicks and two indies on his resume. Jared's heard good things and the guy's genuinely nice, voicing honest appreciation for Jared's show and skills.
Jensen's costars, however, are a mixed bag, and Jensen's stiff and sarcastic during the intros. But Jared's great with people, and he manages to get Jensen to loosen up enough to crack jokes with him like it's nothing.
The lights blink and they take their seats. The movie's intense right from the get-go. Jensen makes a jeans and t-shirt uniform look vulnerable. It feels like there should be another layer for armor. It's a better cop drama than Jared's seen in a long while, the kind of movie that makes your heart race like an action flick, but there's no shoot-outs to be seen, an hour in.
Jensen doesn't seem half as enamored, shifting restlessly in his chair, fingers tapping on the armrest. He's never been good at watching himself.
Jared leans over and whispers, "You cool?" while onscreen Jensen's shouting at his partner.
"You wanna get out of here?" Jensen whispers back.
"Hey, I paid good money to see this movie," Jared says.
"You didn't pay any money."
"Okay, but I'm enjoying it," Jared whispers firmly.
Jensen sighs and slouches down further in his seat, legs sprawled out, knee against Jared's thigh. His hands settle on his stomach, and he doesn't fidget again until the credits roll.
The after party is held at this new club near the Hilton. The furniture is ridiculously oversized, like this old SNL sketch Jared's mom loved. The chairs dwarf Jared, and there are assorted odds and ends across the room; giant cushions and bean bags in one corner and alphabet blocks in the other. Of course, the food comes in smaller portions than normal. Half the crowd is already shitfaced and having a great old time. Jared feels a little sick, his good mood evaporating into the air.
"I should stay an hour," Jensen says, lifting two beers off a passing tray and heading for the mostly abandoned alphabet blocks. He goes to the set farthest into shadows and puts the beers down before using both hands to get himself on the shortest one. He settles, legs hanging over the edge about a foot from the floor. He takes one beer, hands it to Jared, and takes a slow sip from the other.
Jared leans back against the block, looking out at the crowd, his side pressed against Jensen's calf. Jensen braces one hand behind Jared's back, fist pressed against the knobs of Jared's spine.
"Who picked this place?" Jared goes for the obvious question, trying to push down his discomfort.
"Fuck if I know." Jensen shakes his head. "But if this is what's in right now, then I'm glad I'm leaving the country."
"Like you actually care what's in now. I've seen your place," Jared scoffs, taking a sip from his beer. "The beer's not bad."
"Small favors." Jensen sets his drink back down and leans forward, elbows braced on his knees.
Jared looks down at the beer in his hand, foam still clinging to the edges of the glass. "When you leaving for France?"
Jensen sets his beer down and reaches over to squeeze Jared's shoulders tightly. "Sunday. But you can call me, you know."
"I don't need to be hand held or anything, Jen. I'm cool." Jared puts his glass down.
Jen claps his shoulders and then lets go. "You don't have to bullshit me, Jared. I'm not going to tell anyone," he said softly.
Jared closes his eyes, tilting his head back. He can see the bright overhead lights through his closed lids. "I know."
"Okay," Jensen says, so soft Jared barely hears him. "As long as you do."
"I'm just--" Jared opens his eyes, blinking that at the bright light. He jerks his chin down, eyes trained on the floor. "I'm not. I don't know how to--" He takes a breath and steps away from the block. "I'll be okay," he says firmly.
"Yeah." Jen taps the toe of his shoe against Jared's knee. "But you can still call me."
Jared reaches out and flicks Jensen in the middle of the chest, making him jerk back and scowl. "Thanks," Jared says after a moment.
"Anytime." Jensen drains his glass and sets it down next to Jared's, before jumping down. He looks up at Jared, clapping his hands together theatrically. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."
Jared laughs. "God, yeah. Can we?"
There are fans and paparazzi hovering outside of the club, so they pose obligingly while they wait for the car to be brought around. Once they get inside, Jensen just sinks back into his seat like the last five minutes of constant flash have sucked the life right out of him. "You work tomorrow?" He turns his head to watch the cars passing by through the tinted window.
"Late call." Jared stretches his legs out in front of him, undoes the top two buttons his shirt. "Exterior night shots for the crime of the week." Late night in LA, the streets are still crowded, but the car's going at a good enough clip, heading steadily for the freeway. Out the window, a dozen cars pass in and out of view.
"It's a good show," Jensen says out of the blue, turning his gaze away from the window. "I mean you know that, but it is. I make Liz send me copies when I'm out of the country."
"So that's what you have an assistant for. To nurse your completely inappropriate crush on me."
"And Allison." Jensen says.
"Aw, Alli." Jared loves the girl to pieces, and he's dreading her being out on maternity leave. "Did I tell you about next season?"
"You didn't." The car gets onto the freeway, merging fairly painlessly. "You want to come back to my place? I've got more beer."
"Do you have food?"
Jensen rolled his eyes. "I am prepared for the apocalypse, yes."
Jared hates filming car scenes. Back in the day, the Impala was roomy enough, and Jake, his character now, drives a truck with a cabin big enough that Jared's knees aren't at his ears. But he's a big guy, and even a car built to hold him just isn't meant to hold him for that many hours. He always has to get out and stretch his legs and his back, and then he's pretty much out of character and has to spend another ten minutes getting back into the zone. It's seriously a bitch; it always has been and always will be. And if he ever gets another script where the car is a 'major character', he's going to toss that fucker right out the window.
Seriously, it's one of the few things that makes him think they do not pay me enough for this shit.
Allison, for her part, isn't looking too hot either after three hours on the same scene. They've both been flubbing lines like crazy, and there's five different areas of coverage they're going for, which is ridiculous for a scene shot in the cabin of a pick up. Her back is killing her, one more new thing that's cropped up in the last month, so they're both more concerned with their own physical limitations than they are with the moral argument their characters are having. Funny thing is, of course, that while the lights are being adjusted, she's not rubbing the arch of her spine but the rise of her stomach.
They're setting up the next shot and the director--a new guy they haven't had on set before--is giving them space because his body language is doing more than enough shouting for him. There's a certain status required to go around screaming at the talent to get their shit together, and the guy doesn't have it yet. Jared kind of feels bad about it.
"We need to get our shit together, Mack." Jared wants to drop his head onto the steering wheel, but he doesn't want to have his makeup fixed, so he settles for throwing his arms over the wheel, feeling the muscles along his shoulder blades stretch slow and easy.
Allison slumps against the door, her hair carefully positioned towards the open window probably so no one comes around waving the hair spray. "No kidding, Sherlock. Any advice?"
"Pedeconference," Jared suggests. They both love those, the speed and rhythm of getting lines out while walking a careful line around the interconnected office set.
"Driving to a crime scene, buddy. No walk and talk for us."
"They need to start shooting up places in walking distance from the office," he says.
She arches an eyebrow, smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "People start shooting up the streets around headquarters, then our characters aren't doing their jobs. Next thing you know, they'll hire a new chief to 'shake things up'."
"And it'll probably be Rosenbaum," Jared intones gravely.
Allison nods, her face drawing into a mask of concern. "And then there will be Jell-O wars and magic marker incidents. And where will that get us?"
"Nowhere," he says solemnly.
"Nowhere," she repeats. She'll be back for the beginning of the season, the cliffhanger leaving Mel damaged enough that shooting around a third trimester stomach won't be impossible. But his 'in the field' shots will be minus her and then the three month maternity leave mid-season. Jared figures that it's shooting the shit like this that he'll miss most while she's gone. He likes the whole cast, but half his scenes and most of his character work is with Allison, so he knows that it's going to be a rough few months.
He turns his head to look out his window, watch as everyone outside their two-seater scurries around. "I'm tired," he says, barely audible. He's not sure if he's telling her or telling himself.
Allison slides a hand over his arm, palm a warm spot through the cotton blend. "It's not going good for you, is it?"
He wants to tell her, let her know before it gets out, before everyone notices the bare space on his left hand. But this isn't the place. He breathes in and out slowly, closing his eyes against the glare of the overhead lights. "Yeah, not my best year."
He'll take her out, he thinks. Lunch maybe, somewhere the paparazzi don't circle around. Or, god, at least his trailer. Somewhere with no microphones, no crew, and no exposition he has to remember in the right order.
"It's March, Jared." She squeezes his arm, her thumb pressing right where the muscles from his shoulder taper in. "You've got time to make it better."
Outside the car it's a chorus of shouts, everybody moving at a steady pace, knowing where they need to be. Jared taps his fingers against the dash, he thinks about his first car, the small cracks the sun made in the plastic. "Summer's coming," he says. He's not sure if it means anything at all.
Jensen's been out of the country for two days when Jared's phone rings. "Hiatus," Jensen says, by way of hello. "You got plans?"
Jared takes the highlighter out of his mouth. "Buying new furniture."
Jensen says gravely, "You have people for that."
Grinning, Jared rolls his eyes, and feels the tightness in his chest ease off. He sets his script aside. "I'm not going to have my assistant pick out my couch for me."
Jensen laughs, the connection so crystal clear Jared can practically feel the warmth of his breath. "I know that. Seriously, you got anything going beyond a trip to Ikea?"
"I'm not buying a couch from IKEA." Jared stands up, stretching his arms out above him, feeling all the tired muscles along his spine. The grass in the yard is getting overgrown, and he has a post-it note on the fridge to call his gardener, but he keeps forgetting. It's something Sandy always did. "Nah, no movies or anything. I figured I should get my life in order."
"Cool." Jensen's smiling, Jared can tell.
Jared is about to ask why, suspicion curling warmly in his belly, when Jensen says, "Hey, hold on." Jared gets the dead space of the hold button and walks down the porch steps, sitting down with his bare toes in the wild grass.
Jensen comes back sounding rushed. "Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Jared runs his open palm over the blades, tickling his palm and sticking on his deep life line. "Yeah, later man."
"Hey," Jensen gets quiet and the bustle of activity fades away. "You're gonna be just fine, you know that right?"
Jared smiles, grabs a fistful of grass like a child, rips it out and lets it float off his hand in the slight breeze. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Jensen breathing. "Yeah. I know."
"Good. I'll call you tonight."
"Au revoir," Jared whispers.
Jensen chuckles, "Yeah, yeah. Au revoir."
He's asleep when Jensen calls back, and then it's two days of time zone phone tag, because if one of them isn't on set working, then the other one is. He's a little sad about it, but Jensen leaves him long voice mails and sends him two long emails, one of them entirely about French coffee. Jared gets a latte from the set cafe and winces through the whole drink.
On Wednesday, in lieu of any correspondence, Jensen just sends a plane ticket to his email. First class, straight from LAX to Charles de Gaulle. When his call gets shunted to Jensen's voicemail, he just says, "You really that bored?"
"Come to Paris." Jensen has the frog voice he gets when he's just woken up.
Jared gets up, away from his desk. "Miss me that much?"
Jensen yawns, and Jared can hear rustling in the background, the hitch of breath as clothes are pulled on. "You really going to say no to Paris in the springtime? They put me up in this apartment, and I'm telling you I'm never there."
"Where's the fun in that?" Jared switches off the computer and the lights on his way to his bedroom.
There's another yawn --Jensen never did grow up to be a morning person-- followed by the soft, nearly silent, buzz of an electric razor. "You need out of LA. And, if you time it right, you can be on a whole new continent when the shit hits the tabloid fan."
Jared grimaces, trying not to imagine the headlines and the inevitable finger pointing and personal questions. Irreconcilable differences always sounds like code for adultery, and even if that isn't the case with him and Sandy, it's what everyone will assume. "When you put it that way..."
"And I'm bored." Jensen absolutely says it to make Jared feel better, he has that tone Jared knows too well to mistake. Jared doesn't feel the least bit put out about it.
Jared stands in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at the bare walls and the half-made bed. "Thanks," he says quietly.
Jared hears the razor turns off, and for a long moment Jensen doesn't say anything. He huffs a breath, swallows audibly, and then, "Hire movers if you have to. Just come, okay?"
"Okay."
Jared spends the weekend with Sandy at the house, boxing things up. She's found a smaller place out near the ocean so she's going through her things as well as his. They order pizza for lunch and Chinese for dinner and spend the day laughing over the dust and cobwebs. They divide the pictures evenly, but he presses the wedding album into her hands. He has a photo he's always taken with him on location, and it's the only one he feels like he needs.
"I'll make you a separate one for your family pictures, okay?" She puts the album aside, on the coffee table.
"Sure."
Jared gets her shoes down from the top of the closet because he doesn't want her handling the boot boxes on a ladder. She labels all of his boxes, makes him take the really fragile ones and the set memorabilia home with him on Saturday night. By dinner on Sunday, their lives are mostly split down the middle. His stuff is piled neatly in the den, hers in the living room, and the furniture all has post-it notes on it. The bed and frame are going to Sandy's cousin, but the living room set is going with Sandy, and the best television is going to Jared's. It makes him a little sick to see so many years of his life laid out like that in yellow sticky notes and Sandy's neat printing. Sandy probably feels the same because when he begs off dinner she doesn't protest.
In a few months, a year maybe, he thinks they'll be real friends again without even really trying. They were mostly there already--most of the problem really--but the grief is making it hard for him to speak.
It's two weeks until hiatus, and he spends every lunch break taking a nap, because he spends every night going through all of his boxes. He's got this idea that when he comes back from France he wants to step into this place like it's the beginning of a new life. There will be pieces of the old, but spread out and shuffled in with everything else. He wants a clean break, a new start, and he doesn't want to come back to boxes that are all that's left of his marriage. He calls Jensen every night, listens as Jensen grumbles himself awake and ready for the day. Jensen teases him about one hell of a phone bill, and Jared has his hands on the bracelet of Dean's that he'd traded one of Sam's for.
"What's the point of being a millionaire if I can't torture you every morning?"
Jensen half groans, half laughs, and in the background his buzzer goes off. "My ride's here. Get some sleep, Jay."
"See you soon," Jared replies, as he hangs up.
The finale script comes, hand-delivered to his trailer, and he has to sign his name three times to get his hands on it. Being a producer means he gets a lot more drafts than he used to, and he's enjoying watching the scripts take shape. He feels like he can appreciate it more when he sees the evolution from A to Z. The finale script in particular has been awesome to watch unfold. The serial killer story's been on the backburner all season, little comments from the side characters on unsolved murders and a slow reveal of a pattern that was finally voiced at the end of the penultimate episode.
There'd been talk, well up until February, about killing off one of the smaller characters but Allison's pregnancy got someone a reprieve and instead her character's taken and won't be saved for a whole summer.
This episode begins mid chase, intercutting the research Jake and Mel are compiling. It's out of order, which isn't the show norm, and Jared can't wait to see how people will react. The entire chase scene is Jake trying to get to Mel and failing. It's a rough shoot, three full days of chase scenes and four days full of increasingly frantic dialogue. But everyone's on, hyped by the script and the prospect of summer.
The show is filmed on the Warner lot, and since the beginning, it's felt like old school days. This little cardboard town is the same one he spent years wandering through with Gilmore Girls. Stars Hollow for those few years and back to being Midwestern Town on the lot. The house on the corner across from the gazebo is used for the inside of Jake's house and down the small side street is the house used for the exteriors.
It makes him feel like a teenager again and it's a struggle not to inject Jake with more earnestness than's appropriate. Allison likes to laugh at him, quote Alexis's old dialogue as she dances around the gazebo.
It's a nice life he's got, and next year it will feel like it belongs to someone else.
His last scene before hiatus is a one-shot down the lane of Midwestern Town and into one of the houses. They shot the interior scene earlier in the week--Jake finding that Mel's gone. It felt a little like Supernatural, honestly, pulling a face of despair and growing horror that was always good for Sam and not so much with Jake. Jake doesn't bring his work home with him.
The running is old hat though, the sureness Jake has that, if he moves fast enough, he can save the day.
It's the last shot of a long day, and Jared sits on the gazebo, watching the crew set up the lights along the street. Allison comes up to the gazebo, hair pulled back, wearing the sweats she came to set at five a.m. in. He slides over to make room for her, "Ready to go?"
She takes the seat, leaning back with one hand, the other settling on the invisible rise of her stomach. "Thought I'd watch you run down the street twenty times and have a good laugh before I left."
He ruffles her hair. "That's real sweet of you."
She flashes him a cheeky smile that fades into a more serious look. "Ben said you're not coming to the wrap party tomorrow."
"I've got a flight in the morning," he admits. He turns his head to look back at the crew.
She doesn't say that it's not like him to skip something like that. She doesn't have to. He's leaving tomorrow and there's no time for coffee or breakfast or to work up a decent speech. He'd kept putting it off, and now he's kind of forced to the point. She's a friend, a close friend, and she deserves not to hear about it from a reporter asking for comment. "I'm getting a divorce."
"Oh Jared."
He steeples his fingers on his knees. "I'll be out of town for the summer."
She reaches over and takes his right hand, covering it with both of hers. "Are you okay?"
He squeezes her hand. "Getting there," he says, because it'll be true eventually.
Part Two
Author: reccea
Artist: waterofthemoon
Genre: RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Master Art Post
Master Fic Post
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five and Epilogue
Part One
The strip of skin on his ring finger is bright white, a sharp contrast to the golden tan of the rest of his hand. Jared runs his thumb over it, the way he used to twist the ring along his finger. He can almost feel the smooth warmth of the metal circling his finger. He should use sunscreen more, he thinks irrationally. All he needs is to be the George Hamilton of his generation.
He doesn't know anyone's near him until Jensen says, "Something I should know?"
Jared starts, his heart doing a half skip ahead, and he turns to find Jensen standing right next to him, looking at his left hand amused.
"I'm a free agent." Jared practiced saying it all afternoon, and he still sounds stilted. He's a damn good actor, but he's never been able to treat his life like another script.
The amusement drains from Jensen's face, replaced by genuine surprise. He looks around, eyeing the drunk, giddy people nearby, then takes Jared by the arm and steers him towards the patio. The patio is pretty full up, but there's an empty corner outside of the smoker's circle. Jensen grabs two beers from a passing waiter and makes a beeline for it. There's a small table in the corner, five chairs too close together. Jensen nods towards the chairs farthest from the crowd and they go around opposite sides, pushing the other three chairs away so they can at least sit comfortably.
Jensen passes Jared a beer and waits, eyes careful and searching.
Jared takes a long drink, not wanting to speak now that his one good line's fallen flat.
"I wasn’t serious," Jensen says after a minute. He sets his beer down towards the middle of the table and looks at Jared over it.
Jared lost his first wedding ring on a set before his six month anniversary and it had taken three months, Jared’s lawyer working overtime, and Jensen conquering eBay to get it back. Jared never wore it to a set anymore and always went barehanded to parties if he left directly from work. So his ringless finger wouldn't merit a comment from anyone, not even the rags, and Jensen's joke was old hat.
"Yeah," Jared says, shifting his seat, trying to get comfortable and knowing it's not going to happen. "I know."
"Do you...," Jensen waves one hand around, encompassing the idea of talking without actually doing it himself.
"Long time coming," Jared says because he doesn't know how to explain it. Falling out of love isn't anything new, but it is new for him. He still loves everyone who's mattered to him. "I got a new place in the hills, but nothing's formal yet." By formal he means no papers have been filed and no publicity statements composed. He's called his parents, but that's it. There's probably a system to it, certain groups of friends he needs to call before the general public reads all about it. But he doesn't want to call anyone. And he doesn't want to make it Sandy's problem either.
Sandy's friend Tara sent out divorce announcements when she finally left her asshole of a husband. They were nice, thick paper and fancy ink, like wedding announcements, complete with a fancy party and a big damn cake. Let all of her friends celebrate her newfound freedom before the lawyers had even started hashing out a settlement. She'd been pretty angry.
But Jared isn't angry, and he doesn't have a reason to celebrate. He's sad, a little heartbroken, and upset that he isn't more of both. He feels almost like a failure, like he's one step off from it, and you don't go around announcing that.
"Okay." Jensen nods, more to himself than anything, and then he looks out at the world outside the party. There are paparazzi not too far off in the bushes, taking pictures of some couple who shouldn't be coupling, probably. "I'm here if you need me." Which is Jensen's way of saying he'll wait, and Jared's grateful for it. He's not ready yet. Stupid to say anything before he was ready, but it's been bubbling up in him for weeks and he couldn't keep it down.
Jared toes one of the stray chairs and drags it closer so he can kick his legs up on it. "Heard you dropped out of the Reitman thing." Work is a safe topic and hell, there are a bunch of others but all of Jared's teams are tanking this season and he's too bogged down with his show to be up on any new games, systems, or even fucking movies.
"Timing sucks. Pick ups for Beggar's Chance had to be pushed back," Jensen sighs and settles down low in his chair. "I need more than a week off between three movies, you know? So I dropped out and I'm taking next spring off."
Jared shakes his head. "I'm telling you, lead in an ensemble show. Guaranteed summers off, a month at Christmas and honest to fucking god weekends off."
Jensen gives him a look, smiling because it's an argument three years old and still neither of them would trade. Jared relaxes enough that some of the tension in his shoulders finally bleeds off. He gets into shop talk, this director versus that, the episode they're finishing up and the direction the season's heading. For the last year he's held an executive producer credit and he's doing his best to take it seriously and put in the hours it deserves.
Jensen's finishing up a press tour and has the normal, comfortable complaints about jet lag, reporters and hearing the same question fifteen times a day. Jared likes that it's always this way, a half a moment to adjust and then they're back into it, close as if they'd never parted to begin with. Still the same two guys who'd been thick as thieves at first sight.
"Jesus," Jensen says, out of the blue. He shakes his head and the smile on his face is more surprised than anything else. "Every time I get used to looking at you, you go and change."
Jared can hear the compliment in it, that Jensen means 'improve' more than he means 'change' and it's the bolster Jared's been needing all night. "Can't get complacent."
The truth is, Jensen's changed more than he has, Jared's pretty sure. The fine lines around his eyes aren't as fine as they used to be, and there's gray peppered in his light hair, if you looked close enough. He's still gorgeous, maybe more so than before. Getting older looks more like maturing on Jensen, like he's just been growing into who he meant to be, not that he's leaving behind the glory of his youth. It figures, really, that forty suits Jensen.
"Nah," Jensen shakes his head. "Get complacent and that hair of yours is bound to launch a revolution."
Jared laughs, a real sharp surprised bark that he feels down in his chest. He kicks at Jensen's feet under the table, grins when Jen curses and kicks back in self defense. "You wish you had hair like mine," he says, pushing his near-empty bottle to the edge of the table.
"Keep dreaming." Jensen gets a swift kick through Jared's defenses, looking smug when Jared swears loudly.
Jared laughs again, reaching down to rub at his calf. He feels relaxed and actually glad he'd come to the opening instead of heading home at the end of the day.
Jensen taps his fingers on the table, the beat of a song Jared can't place. The smile on Jensen's face fades into something a little more somber, lines easing around his mouth and tightening at his eyes. "Why'd you come? Tonight, I mean."
"Same reason you did." Jared answers without thinking. "Tom's a friend and I promised to come and get my picture taken for the opening." After a moment, Jared ducks his head and runs his fingers over the smooth wood of the table. "And it's better than a night alone."
"Have you moved out?" Jensen moves his feet to bracket Jared's. Jared can barely feel it through the leather of his shoes but the gesture's enough.
"Two weeks ago." He reaches out, takes the last drag off his bottle. He admits, "Still don't have anything but a TV and a bed. And it's a big fucking house."
A waitress comes up on them then, making noise enough to warn them. She's been pretty well trained. "Can I get you anything?"
"Nah," Jared shakes his head. "I'm all good. Gonna head out in a few."
"Same here," Jensen says, smiling politely.
She backs away with a sincere, "Let me know if you change your mind," line and bustles through the crowd to a younger set with a longer night ahead and bigger tips to give out.
"I've been up since three," Jared says after a minute. "Stayed here longer than I planned."
"I'm irresistible is all." Jensen takes the cue, standing up and stretching his arms out like he's been cooped up for days.
Jared stands as well, reaching over to clap a hand hard on Jensen's shoulder. "Thanks, man."
"Don't thank me," Jensen says, shaking his head. "You're just my excuse to the fifty people inside I've spent the night avoiding."
"Nice try, man." Jared pushes Jensen towards the exit and the valet station. "Nice try."
Jensen hands off his ticket to the valet before he says, "Brunch tomorrow." It's not a question, but Jared can tell there's an out there if he needs it.
Jared grins into the night. "When did we start 'doing brunch'?"
Jensen reaches over, smacks him hard in the center of his chest. He says with a wry smile, "When we got too old to drink at one of these things and still make it out of bed for breakfast."
"Wow, you're that old, huh?" Jared takes a strategic step back. "I thought it was when you got famous enough to make your own schedule."
Jensen manages to get a punch in, a gentle push against Jared's chest. He's got a comeback, Jared can tell by the tilt of his mouth, but Jensen doesn't say it. The valet pulls up in a sleek black convertible.
"You got a ride home?" Jensen takes a step down the stairs, holding out his hand for his keys.
"I'm good." Jared fishes his number out for another valet to take.
Jensen frowns, stepping out in front of his car. "You're sure," he says, quiet and far enough away now that Jared barely hears him. "I mean you're good on your own?"
Jared's stomach goes warm and his smile this time is easy, natural and unconscious. "Yeah," he nods. "I'll be good."
"Okay," Jensen relents, finally walking around to the open driver's side door. "Brunch tomorrow?"
"I'll call you before I head over." His car pulls up behind Jensen's and Jared takes the steps two at a time.
"Night, man." Jensen gets in his car.
Jared gives Jensen a mock salute as his car pulls out, and then he passes the valet a tip, gets into his driver's seat, and remembers not to go to the wrong house.
The first summer after Supernatural was over, Jared had a movie to film in LA and no time to think about anything, let alone about not coming back to Vancouver in July. And every night, when he got back to the house he owned in the city, he would pick up his phone and call Jensen.
Jensen didn't always answer--he was filming in Georgia, and half the time he was asleep before Jared got off set. But when he did answer, the two of them would make plans like there was a definite point in time to look forward to. Like there was some set schedule where they'd be in the same place, on the same schedule, in each other's space like always.
Jensen filmed three movies in that first year, two bit parts and the one that made him, and Jared guested on six different shows and filmed one comedy. They saw each other ten times, once just a freak hour layover in the same LAX terminal, and Jared never felt a distance.
Mostly when you stop filming with someone, you stop hanging out with them too. The only friends you're supposed to keep in Hollywood are your entourage or the people you got trashed with on your own time. And Jensen's career hit the stratosphere a good two years before Jared's did, so the chances of them making a decent friendship out of five seasons in Vancouver were next to nothing.
But Jared's always been good at defying the odds and embracing a challenge.
And anyway, Jensen's never been the type to let go of someone he connected with.
Jared picks Jensen up a little before 11am, and Jensen directs him to the restaurant. Over the years, Jensen's picked up a knack for finding places the paparazzi don't know and this one is no exception. The parking is non-existent, and Jared has to parallel into a tiny space outside of a duplex. He follows Jensen half a block and then onto the main drag. The restaurant is a small place that looks like it used to be somebody's house. The seating is outside, on a wooden deck, with a second level around the edge that's a good five feet higher. It really does look like someone's deck, a house party with wooden tables and chairs spread out and white Christmas lights scattered across the hedge that serves as the border between the tables and the sidewalk.
They're shown to a table in the front corner. Jensen sends the waiter away with an order of coffee for himself and water for them both. Jared doesn't say anything, content with water and too busy taking the place in to bother with the beverage menu. They're on the higher level of the deck, right up against the hedge. He can look to his right and see the people walking right by him, see the tips of their heads over the green, and he knows Jensen can see the traffic going the other way. Jared feels exposed, but not particularly vulnerable, and more a part of the general public than he has in a good long while.
Jensen cleans his sunglasses on the edge of his t-shirt and slips them back on before picking up his menu. "The chocolate chip pancakes are good."
Jared looks away from the sidewalk, back to Jensen. As far as Jared knows, Jensen's been on a pretty strict diet since he hit thirty. Chocolate chip pancakes aren't on that diet. Jensen smiles and shakes his head, looking down at the menu in his hand, thumbing through the pages. "Suit yourself."
When the waiter comes back with Jensen's coffee and the ice waters, Jensen does order the chocolate chip pancakes. Jared orders his eggs, hash browns, and bacon, and only orders the pancakes when Jensen arches an eyebrow at him. He bites his cheek to keep from laughing. He can't decide if it's more childish to order chocolate chip pancakes or cave to peer pressure.
"So, you finish up the promo tour, and then what?" Jared drinks half the cup of water in one go.
Jensen grabs three sugar packets from the small white dish at the center of the table, ripping them up and pouring them into his coffee. "Filming in Paris until mid-August."
Jared has been to Paris a handful of times, mostly for promotional tours and premieres, and once for a two week set of exterior pick ups. He's spent more time in Cannes, all things considered. "Must be nice." Under the table he kicks Jensen's shin.
Jensen kicks him back and pours a small dollop of cream into the cup, stirring until it's a tan color. "The best part is the movie, believe it or not. This time travel thing. It's like half James Bond, half Dr. Who."
Jared slides down further in his seat, stretching his legs out, feet braced against the wall behind Jensen's chair. "Thought you swore off genre after that awful astronaut thing."
Jensen frowned. "We agreed not to talk about that." He moved his left leg a few inches, pressing his calf to Jared's.
"I reserved the right to all avenues of mocking after your salary hit fifteen million." Jared tilted his chin down and raised both his eyebrows.
The corner of Jensen's mouth goes up, fighting a smile. "Fair enough."
"Anyway, I thought you were the big Drama Guy now." Jared finished his water, ice cubes clicking against his teeth.
Jensen takes a sip of his coffee , keeping the edge of the cup against his mouth. "No typecasting."
The waiter comes back with a platter piled high. The pancakes are deposited on either side of them and the rest of Jared's meal is set right in front of him. The pancakes look like big fluffy chocolate chip cookies, and Jared moves the plates around so he can eat the pancakes while the whipped cream is still melting. And Jensen was right. They're fucking awesome.
Jensen flags the waiter down when he's one down on his pancakes, asking for a glass of milk, and Jared has to laugh at him. "You eat like a five year old."
"Whatever, man." Jensen shrugs him off. "I remember when your green room requests were licorice and gummy bears."
The waiter brings a huge glass of milk and grins at Jared. Once he's gone, Jared leans close, whispering conspiratorially, "I think he heard me."
Jensen shakes his head. "The whole place did." It's probably true. Jared's never exactly been a quiet guy.
Jared finishes off his pancakes in relative silence, listening to the varied conversations of the passerbys beyond the hedge. It's weird, but it feels nice to just stop for a moment and breathe. His life has been at breakneck pace for so long that he's starting to feel like his breath is caught in his chest.
"So, I've got that premiere on Wednesday." Jensen eyes Jared's eggs.
Jared moves his glass of water in front of his plate, giving Jensen a look. "At the Kodak, right?" Some of the crew lived near there, and there'd been a lot of on-set bitching about the traffic being at Oscar levels.
Jensen sets his fork down on Jared's plate in silent surrender. "Yeah. It's going to be this stupid insane thing, and everyone we know and hate is going to be there."
"Sounds like quite the party." Jared finishes off the eggs and pushes the rest of his hash browns towards the back of his plate, near Jensen's abandoned fork.
Jensen pushes at his fork, making a small dent in the potatoes. "Think you can get out of work early?"
Jared looks away from the plate to bat his eyelashes over dramatically. "Jensen, are you inviting me to your premiere?"
Jensen shrugs. "I need a trophy date."
"I haven't had enough plastic surgery to be a trophy date." Jared folds his hands down on the table.
Jensen throws a sugar packet at his forehead. "Dude, you don't need plastic surgery."
The sugar packet bounces off his forehead, and Jared catches it with his right hand without blinking an eye. "Aw, that's so sweet honey."
Jensen picks up his mug, puts his mouth to the rim. "It'll be fun."
Jared pushes at Jensen's plate. "What, looking at your face in hi-def for two hours?"
Jensen gives him a cocky grin that was all attitude and not much truth. "That too."
Jared's seen the posters all around town, on billboards and along several buildings. Jensen's face plastered across any available surface, and not as airbrushed as he'd have guessed. "You don't have anybody fun to take with you?"
Jensen drains his mug and set it down. He catches the waiter's eye and gestures for the check. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."
Jared sucks a smudge of chocolate off his thumb. "You just better make it worth my while, boy."
Jensen cracks up, grin wide and real and so familiar it makes Jared laugh too.
Filming on Monday is hectic, one of those days where everything goes wrong, everyone's pissed off, and nothing gets done in a reasonable number of takes. Bob Singer’s on set, so he and Jared have lunch together and go over the latest draft of the finale. The season is winding down fast, there are rewrites of the final episode being passed out constantly, and there are still two episodes to go before they film it. Jared's character, Jake, has had an easy season so far, the drama's been mostly about the secondary characters, but that's going to flip right over for the last two episodes. It's going to be a sudden change and his character is about to take an emotional nose dive so Jared concentrates on coming off as a solid, dependable constant so that the audience won't see the crack coming. A part of him thinks it's pretty funny that playing happy is so fucking exhausting when playing doomed and tormented is like slipping into a familiar skin.
Tuesday goes smoother, not as many takes and not as many tempers. Allison has morning sickness like hell all day so they do have to move things around. Jared's last scene of the day isn't one he's had time to actually memorize so he's there a lot longer than he needs to be. He gets another rewrite just as he's heading for his trailer, and he tries his best to smile at the PA who passes it over. Jared doesn't like being the guy who takes a long day out on someone else, but lately it's been hard not to. He drops his prop wedding ring in the dish on the trailer counter, climbs into the track suit he'd worn to the set, grabs his wallet and his script and heads out. He reads the rewrites on the drive home, too tired to try memorizing anything. He hums along to the classic rock station the driver always has on low. The script is getting closer to a final draft. The scenes have been trimmed down and the dialogue's sharper.
He only turns on a few lights when he gets back to his new place, dumping his stuff on the entry table and making a beeline for the kitchen. He opens the fridge door and blinks at the brightness of the light in the pitch black kitchen. There's cold pizza and three Coronas, and it looks like the inside of the fridge in his first apartment. He needs to go shopping or, since he doesn't have a lot of time, have his assistant do it. He hates waiting in the lines at the grocery store. Half the time he's on the cover of one of the tabloids by the ten items or less aisle, and the people around him near sprain themselves doing double takes.
He eats the pizza, downs one Corona, and then collapses on his cold, unmade bed. He buries his face in one of the pillows, which smells like the citrus shampoo he's almost out of. He's still getting used to the bed; it's a bit firmer than the last, better for his back but it makes it harder to sleep because it's not his bed and it's not his house. He rolls over onto his back, looks at the flat white ceiling, and takes deep even breaths. He has early call the next day and hopefully a long night after, so he shifts until he's mostly comfortable, closes his eyes. He silently mouths lines for the next day's scenes, falling into a steady rhythm until they aren't words just syllables, and then he's asleep.
All day Wednesday he's bouncing off the walls. He's driving the crew crazy but they all seem to be smiling in spite of themselves. He has a one-two take day, always hitting his mark and nailing the lines each time. He's getting out early, and his body is thrumming. He can't remember the last time he was excited about a premiere, but it's less about the premiere and more about the solid four hours of complete distraction that he's got coming.
The car that waits at the edge of Jared's driveway doesn't belong to Jensen. It's not a limo. Jensen doesn't often do limos, since he doesn't go with an entourage and he doesn't like to drink before he gets there. The car's a new model, sharp, and expensive that Jared should be able to name but he was just never as into cars as Jensen was. He knew what he liked and that was good enough.
When he climbs in the back, Jensen's sitting there in a tux that is classic forties Hollywood and looks so good that Jared feels a little uncomfortable in his suit. He takes the seat next to Jensen, stretching his legs as best as he can.
"Hey." Jensen's halfway through a bottle of water, and there's another full one in the cup holder near Jared.
Jared grabs the water, uncaps it, and takes a sip. "You sure it's a good idea, me coming with you?" He leers for effect.
Jensen flicks Jared's knee."There's a new article out about how I'm sleeping with Dakota Fanning, so yes, it is."
Jared snickers but says seriously, "You never comment about those things anyway. So what does it matter?"
Jensen grins. "Yeah, but half the questions are going to be directed at you, so don't think for a minute you're gonna wander off and say hi to people. You're my date tonight, and you're gonna have to earn your way."
Jared laughs, full and loud. "You're still total shit at these things, aren't you?"
Jensen shakes his head, smiling despite himself. "Don't consider that an invitation to grope me in public, okay? We have passed that phase."
Jared does grope Jensen on the red carpet, mostly because Jensen told him he couldn't. He wraps a leg around Jensen's hips, both arms over his shoulders and is rewarded with a quiet sigh and a resigned, "Seriously, you're an octopus," from Jensen. It's really pretty funny, and he hopes good pictures will show up online, because he hasn't done that in years, and he can see from Jensen's face that it's had the same effect it used to. The guy looks almost relaxed, his smile real and crinkling the corners of his eyes.
It's a face Jared's familiar with, but not one the photographers are. If Jen has a reputation for being cold and difficult, it's only because he's never really acclimated to a thousand flashes blinding his eyes and a half dozen questions a minute about his personal life that he refuses to answer.
Jared figures at the very least, he's given the magazines something to talk about that isn't which way-the-hell-too-young starlet they've decided Jensen is involved with now.
"He's on some TV show," Jensen says to the new talking head for E!, Alicia. She laughs, looks delighted that Jensen Ackles is actually joking with her.
"Only the second highest rated show on television," Alicia says to the camera, and Jensen gives Jared a sidelong look, eyes bright.
Jared takes the unspoken cue, composes his face into a mockery of seriousness, and says, "It's amazing I let myself be seen with this nobody."
"Well, to be fair, I paid him a lot of money to be here," Jensen says, deadpan.
"A lot of money," Jared agrees.
Melissa Rivers interrogates Jensen about his suit, and he's happy to oblige, right down to the maker of his cuff links. The reporter from NBC asks Jensen about the rumors of a relationship with his co-star, and Jensen switches topics without missing a beat.
"You're not, right?" Jared whispers as they move down the line, because he's seen pictures, and Hudgens's on enough drugs to be well into Lohan territory.
"God, no." Jensen grimaces. "The girl can't string two sentences together. And I'm not even sure she remembers how to eat."
Predictably, the guy from Us Weekly tries to get a comment about Dakota Fanning, and Jared extricates them as quickly as possible.
They get inside, and it's all business, making nice with people who'll give the rags a rude quote if the price tag has enough zeros. Jensen introduces Jared to the director, Grabeel, who's the next big thing with three decent low budget action flicks and two indies on his resume. Jared's heard good things and the guy's genuinely nice, voicing honest appreciation for Jared's show and skills.
Jensen's costars, however, are a mixed bag, and Jensen's stiff and sarcastic during the intros. But Jared's great with people, and he manages to get Jensen to loosen up enough to crack jokes with him like it's nothing.
The lights blink and they take their seats. The movie's intense right from the get-go. Jensen makes a jeans and t-shirt uniform look vulnerable. It feels like there should be another layer for armor. It's a better cop drama than Jared's seen in a long while, the kind of movie that makes your heart race like an action flick, but there's no shoot-outs to be seen, an hour in.
Jensen doesn't seem half as enamored, shifting restlessly in his chair, fingers tapping on the armrest. He's never been good at watching himself.
Jared leans over and whispers, "You cool?" while onscreen Jensen's shouting at his partner.
"You wanna get out of here?" Jensen whispers back.
"Hey, I paid good money to see this movie," Jared says.
"You didn't pay any money."
"Okay, but I'm enjoying it," Jared whispers firmly.
Jensen sighs and slouches down further in his seat, legs sprawled out, knee against Jared's thigh. His hands settle on his stomach, and he doesn't fidget again until the credits roll.
The after party is held at this new club near the Hilton. The furniture is ridiculously oversized, like this old SNL sketch Jared's mom loved. The chairs dwarf Jared, and there are assorted odds and ends across the room; giant cushions and bean bags in one corner and alphabet blocks in the other. Of course, the food comes in smaller portions than normal. Half the crowd is already shitfaced and having a great old time. Jared feels a little sick, his good mood evaporating into the air.
"I should stay an hour," Jensen says, lifting two beers off a passing tray and heading for the mostly abandoned alphabet blocks. He goes to the set farthest into shadows and puts the beers down before using both hands to get himself on the shortest one. He settles, legs hanging over the edge about a foot from the floor. He takes one beer, hands it to Jared, and takes a slow sip from the other.
Jared leans back against the block, looking out at the crowd, his side pressed against Jensen's calf. Jensen braces one hand behind Jared's back, fist pressed against the knobs of Jared's spine.
"Who picked this place?" Jared goes for the obvious question, trying to push down his discomfort.
"Fuck if I know." Jensen shakes his head. "But if this is what's in right now, then I'm glad I'm leaving the country."
"Like you actually care what's in now. I've seen your place," Jared scoffs, taking a sip from his beer. "The beer's not bad."
"Small favors." Jensen sets his drink back down and leans forward, elbows braced on his knees.
Jared looks down at the beer in his hand, foam still clinging to the edges of the glass. "When you leaving for France?"
Jensen sets his beer down and reaches over to squeeze Jared's shoulders tightly. "Sunday. But you can call me, you know."
"I don't need to be hand held or anything, Jen. I'm cool." Jared puts his glass down.
Jen claps his shoulders and then lets go. "You don't have to bullshit me, Jared. I'm not going to tell anyone," he said softly.
Jared closes his eyes, tilting his head back. He can see the bright overhead lights through his closed lids. "I know."
"Okay," Jensen says, so soft Jared barely hears him. "As long as you do."
"I'm just--" Jared opens his eyes, blinking that at the bright light. He jerks his chin down, eyes trained on the floor. "I'm not. I don't know how to--" He takes a breath and steps away from the block. "I'll be okay," he says firmly.
"Yeah." Jen taps the toe of his shoe against Jared's knee. "But you can still call me."
Jared reaches out and flicks Jensen in the middle of the chest, making him jerk back and scowl. "Thanks," Jared says after a moment.
"Anytime." Jensen drains his glass and sets it down next to Jared's, before jumping down. He looks up at Jared, clapping his hands together theatrically. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."
Jared laughs. "God, yeah. Can we?"
There are fans and paparazzi hovering outside of the club, so they pose obligingly while they wait for the car to be brought around. Once they get inside, Jensen just sinks back into his seat like the last five minutes of constant flash have sucked the life right out of him. "You work tomorrow?" He turns his head to watch the cars passing by through the tinted window.
"Late call." Jared stretches his legs out in front of him, undoes the top two buttons his shirt. "Exterior night shots for the crime of the week." Late night in LA, the streets are still crowded, but the car's going at a good enough clip, heading steadily for the freeway. Out the window, a dozen cars pass in and out of view.
"It's a good show," Jensen says out of the blue, turning his gaze away from the window. "I mean you know that, but it is. I make Liz send me copies when I'm out of the country."
"So that's what you have an assistant for. To nurse your completely inappropriate crush on me."
"And Allison." Jensen says.
"Aw, Alli." Jared loves the girl to pieces, and he's dreading her being out on maternity leave. "Did I tell you about next season?"
"You didn't." The car gets onto the freeway, merging fairly painlessly. "You want to come back to my place? I've got more beer."
"Do you have food?"
Jensen rolled his eyes. "I am prepared for the apocalypse, yes."
Jared hates filming car scenes. Back in the day, the Impala was roomy enough, and Jake, his character now, drives a truck with a cabin big enough that Jared's knees aren't at his ears. But he's a big guy, and even a car built to hold him just isn't meant to hold him for that many hours. He always has to get out and stretch his legs and his back, and then he's pretty much out of character and has to spend another ten minutes getting back into the zone. It's seriously a bitch; it always has been and always will be. And if he ever gets another script where the car is a 'major character', he's going to toss that fucker right out the window.
Seriously, it's one of the few things that makes him think they do not pay me enough for this shit.
Allison, for her part, isn't looking too hot either after three hours on the same scene. They've both been flubbing lines like crazy, and there's five different areas of coverage they're going for, which is ridiculous for a scene shot in the cabin of a pick up. Her back is killing her, one more new thing that's cropped up in the last month, so they're both more concerned with their own physical limitations than they are with the moral argument their characters are having. Funny thing is, of course, that while the lights are being adjusted, she's not rubbing the arch of her spine but the rise of her stomach.
They're setting up the next shot and the director--a new guy they haven't had on set before--is giving them space because his body language is doing more than enough shouting for him. There's a certain status required to go around screaming at the talent to get their shit together, and the guy doesn't have it yet. Jared kind of feels bad about it.
"We need to get our shit together, Mack." Jared wants to drop his head onto the steering wheel, but he doesn't want to have his makeup fixed, so he settles for throwing his arms over the wheel, feeling the muscles along his shoulder blades stretch slow and easy.
Allison slumps against the door, her hair carefully positioned towards the open window probably so no one comes around waving the hair spray. "No kidding, Sherlock. Any advice?"
"Pedeconference," Jared suggests. They both love those, the speed and rhythm of getting lines out while walking a careful line around the interconnected office set.
"Driving to a crime scene, buddy. No walk and talk for us."
"They need to start shooting up places in walking distance from the office," he says.
She arches an eyebrow, smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "People start shooting up the streets around headquarters, then our characters aren't doing their jobs. Next thing you know, they'll hire a new chief to 'shake things up'."
"And it'll probably be Rosenbaum," Jared intones gravely.
Allison nods, her face drawing into a mask of concern. "And then there will be Jell-O wars and magic marker incidents. And where will that get us?"
"Nowhere," he says solemnly.
"Nowhere," she repeats. She'll be back for the beginning of the season, the cliffhanger leaving Mel damaged enough that shooting around a third trimester stomach won't be impossible. But his 'in the field' shots will be minus her and then the three month maternity leave mid-season. Jared figures that it's shooting the shit like this that he'll miss most while she's gone. He likes the whole cast, but half his scenes and most of his character work is with Allison, so he knows that it's going to be a rough few months.
He turns his head to look out his window, watch as everyone outside their two-seater scurries around. "I'm tired," he says, barely audible. He's not sure if he's telling her or telling himself.
Allison slides a hand over his arm, palm a warm spot through the cotton blend. "It's not going good for you, is it?"
He wants to tell her, let her know before it gets out, before everyone notices the bare space on his left hand. But this isn't the place. He breathes in and out slowly, closing his eyes against the glare of the overhead lights. "Yeah, not my best year."
He'll take her out, he thinks. Lunch maybe, somewhere the paparazzi don't circle around. Or, god, at least his trailer. Somewhere with no microphones, no crew, and no exposition he has to remember in the right order.
"It's March, Jared." She squeezes his arm, her thumb pressing right where the muscles from his shoulder taper in. "You've got time to make it better."
Outside the car it's a chorus of shouts, everybody moving at a steady pace, knowing where they need to be. Jared taps his fingers against the dash, he thinks about his first car, the small cracks the sun made in the plastic. "Summer's coming," he says. He's not sure if it means anything at all.
Jensen's been out of the country for two days when Jared's phone rings. "Hiatus," Jensen says, by way of hello. "You got plans?"
Jared takes the highlighter out of his mouth. "Buying new furniture."
Jensen says gravely, "You have people for that."
Grinning, Jared rolls his eyes, and feels the tightness in his chest ease off. He sets his script aside. "I'm not going to have my assistant pick out my couch for me."
Jensen laughs, the connection so crystal clear Jared can practically feel the warmth of his breath. "I know that. Seriously, you got anything going beyond a trip to Ikea?"
"I'm not buying a couch from IKEA." Jared stands up, stretching his arms out above him, feeling all the tired muscles along his spine. The grass in the yard is getting overgrown, and he has a post-it note on the fridge to call his gardener, but he keeps forgetting. It's something Sandy always did. "Nah, no movies or anything. I figured I should get my life in order."
"Cool." Jensen's smiling, Jared can tell.
Jared is about to ask why, suspicion curling warmly in his belly, when Jensen says, "Hey, hold on." Jared gets the dead space of the hold button and walks down the porch steps, sitting down with his bare toes in the wild grass.
Jensen comes back sounding rushed. "Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Jared runs his open palm over the blades, tickling his palm and sticking on his deep life line. "Yeah, later man."
"Hey," Jensen gets quiet and the bustle of activity fades away. "You're gonna be just fine, you know that right?"
Jared smiles, grabs a fistful of grass like a child, rips it out and lets it float off his hand in the slight breeze. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Jensen breathing. "Yeah. I know."
"Good. I'll call you tonight."
"Au revoir," Jared whispers.
Jensen chuckles, "Yeah, yeah. Au revoir."
He's asleep when Jensen calls back, and then it's two days of time zone phone tag, because if one of them isn't on set working, then the other one is. He's a little sad about it, but Jensen leaves him long voice mails and sends him two long emails, one of them entirely about French coffee. Jared gets a latte from the set cafe and winces through the whole drink.
On Wednesday, in lieu of any correspondence, Jensen just sends a plane ticket to his email. First class, straight from LAX to Charles de Gaulle. When his call gets shunted to Jensen's voicemail, he just says, "You really that bored?"
"Come to Paris." Jensen has the frog voice he gets when he's just woken up.
Jared gets up, away from his desk. "Miss me that much?"
Jensen yawns, and Jared can hear rustling in the background, the hitch of breath as clothes are pulled on. "You really going to say no to Paris in the springtime? They put me up in this apartment, and I'm telling you I'm never there."
"Where's the fun in that?" Jared switches off the computer and the lights on his way to his bedroom.
There's another yawn --Jensen never did grow up to be a morning person-- followed by the soft, nearly silent, buzz of an electric razor. "You need out of LA. And, if you time it right, you can be on a whole new continent when the shit hits the tabloid fan."
Jared grimaces, trying not to imagine the headlines and the inevitable finger pointing and personal questions. Irreconcilable differences always sounds like code for adultery, and even if that isn't the case with him and Sandy, it's what everyone will assume. "When you put it that way..."
"And I'm bored." Jensen absolutely says it to make Jared feel better, he has that tone Jared knows too well to mistake. Jared doesn't feel the least bit put out about it.
Jared stands in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at the bare walls and the half-made bed. "Thanks," he says quietly.
Jared hears the razor turns off, and for a long moment Jensen doesn't say anything. He huffs a breath, swallows audibly, and then, "Hire movers if you have to. Just come, okay?"
"Okay."
Jared spends the weekend with Sandy at the house, boxing things up. She's found a smaller place out near the ocean so she's going through her things as well as his. They order pizza for lunch and Chinese for dinner and spend the day laughing over the dust and cobwebs. They divide the pictures evenly, but he presses the wedding album into her hands. He has a photo he's always taken with him on location, and it's the only one he feels like he needs.
"I'll make you a separate one for your family pictures, okay?" She puts the album aside, on the coffee table.
"Sure."
Jared gets her shoes down from the top of the closet because he doesn't want her handling the boot boxes on a ladder. She labels all of his boxes, makes him take the really fragile ones and the set memorabilia home with him on Saturday night. By dinner on Sunday, their lives are mostly split down the middle. His stuff is piled neatly in the den, hers in the living room, and the furniture all has post-it notes on it. The bed and frame are going to Sandy's cousin, but the living room set is going with Sandy, and the best television is going to Jared's. It makes him a little sick to see so many years of his life laid out like that in yellow sticky notes and Sandy's neat printing. Sandy probably feels the same because when he begs off dinner she doesn't protest.
In a few months, a year maybe, he thinks they'll be real friends again without even really trying. They were mostly there already--most of the problem really--but the grief is making it hard for him to speak.
It's two weeks until hiatus, and he spends every lunch break taking a nap, because he spends every night going through all of his boxes. He's got this idea that when he comes back from France he wants to step into this place like it's the beginning of a new life. There will be pieces of the old, but spread out and shuffled in with everything else. He wants a clean break, a new start, and he doesn't want to come back to boxes that are all that's left of his marriage. He calls Jensen every night, listens as Jensen grumbles himself awake and ready for the day. Jensen teases him about one hell of a phone bill, and Jared has his hands on the bracelet of Dean's that he'd traded one of Sam's for.
"What's the point of being a millionaire if I can't torture you every morning?"
Jensen half groans, half laughs, and in the background his buzzer goes off. "My ride's here. Get some sleep, Jay."
"See you soon," Jared replies, as he hangs up.
The finale script comes, hand-delivered to his trailer, and he has to sign his name three times to get his hands on it. Being a producer means he gets a lot more drafts than he used to, and he's enjoying watching the scripts take shape. He feels like he can appreciate it more when he sees the evolution from A to Z. The finale script in particular has been awesome to watch unfold. The serial killer story's been on the backburner all season, little comments from the side characters on unsolved murders and a slow reveal of a pattern that was finally voiced at the end of the penultimate episode.
There'd been talk, well up until February, about killing off one of the smaller characters but Allison's pregnancy got someone a reprieve and instead her character's taken and won't be saved for a whole summer.
This episode begins mid chase, intercutting the research Jake and Mel are compiling. It's out of order, which isn't the show norm, and Jared can't wait to see how people will react. The entire chase scene is Jake trying to get to Mel and failing. It's a rough shoot, three full days of chase scenes and four days full of increasingly frantic dialogue. But everyone's on, hyped by the script and the prospect of summer.
The show is filmed on the Warner lot, and since the beginning, it's felt like old school days. This little cardboard town is the same one he spent years wandering through with Gilmore Girls. Stars Hollow for those few years and back to being Midwestern Town on the lot. The house on the corner across from the gazebo is used for the inside of Jake's house and down the small side street is the house used for the exteriors.
It makes him feel like a teenager again and it's a struggle not to inject Jake with more earnestness than's appropriate. Allison likes to laugh at him, quote Alexis's old dialogue as she dances around the gazebo.
It's a nice life he's got, and next year it will feel like it belongs to someone else.
His last scene before hiatus is a one-shot down the lane of Midwestern Town and into one of the houses. They shot the interior scene earlier in the week--Jake finding that Mel's gone. It felt a little like Supernatural, honestly, pulling a face of despair and growing horror that was always good for Sam and not so much with Jake. Jake doesn't bring his work home with him.
The running is old hat though, the sureness Jake has that, if he moves fast enough, he can save the day.
It's the last shot of a long day, and Jared sits on the gazebo, watching the crew set up the lights along the street. Allison comes up to the gazebo, hair pulled back, wearing the sweats she came to set at five a.m. in. He slides over to make room for her, "Ready to go?"
She takes the seat, leaning back with one hand, the other settling on the invisible rise of her stomach. "Thought I'd watch you run down the street twenty times and have a good laugh before I left."
He ruffles her hair. "That's real sweet of you."
She flashes him a cheeky smile that fades into a more serious look. "Ben said you're not coming to the wrap party tomorrow."
"I've got a flight in the morning," he admits. He turns his head to look back at the crew.
She doesn't say that it's not like him to skip something like that. She doesn't have to. He's leaving tomorrow and there's no time for coffee or breakfast or to work up a decent speech. He'd kept putting it off, and now he's kind of forced to the point. She's a friend, a close friend, and she deserves not to hear about it from a reporter asking for comment. "I'm getting a divorce."
"Oh Jared."
He steeples his fingers on his knees. "I'll be out of town for the summer."
She reaches over and takes his right hand, covering it with both of hers. "Are you okay?"
He squeezes her hand. "Getting there," he says, because it'll be true eventually.
Part Two