Things That Never Age - J2 (R), 1/3

[wraith816]

Master Post

Prologue

August 1998

Jensen's fairly certain that the term 'disaster area' best describes the state of Jared's room in this moment, even more so than usual. Though he'd been planning on going in, Jensen can't make it past the doorway, let alone get to Jared. Clothes cover the floor, books cover the clothes, and there are leftover class notes on top of those. Not even the bed has been spared; it's barely visible under stacks of cardboard packing boxes. And in the middle of all the chaos, Jared occupies the sole bit of clear carpet, sitting with his legs folded and his attention on a half-full box in front of him. Jensen kicks aside a little of the mess and says, "I don't think that box holds the secret of life or anything."

With a forming smile, Jared looks up to watch Jensen fight his way in through the disarray. "I'm trying to figure out if I can fit the N64 in here. If anything's the meaning of life, it's video games."

"That might be true, but you probably shouldn't bring it anyway. I don't wanna have to deal with your whining when you've failed all your classes 'cause you were busy playing Super Mario."

Jared snorts and sticks a pile of game cartridges in the box anyway. "Did you come here to help me pack or to insult me?"

"A little of both. I was actually hoping for some pre-goodbye sex, but it looks like there's no way we're fitting on your bed anytime soon."

"Plus, my parents have been in and out of here all afternoon. That wouldn't end well." His nose crinkles in an expression of disgust. "Hand me that controller there, will you?"

Jensen picks up the requested item, steps over a pile of underwear, and finally makes it to Jared's side, handing the Nintendo controller to him. "I'll settle for some making out, I guess. After you finish this."

"Aw, c'mon, I'm almost done! Most of this is stuff I'm leaving here." Jared turns his best pleading face on Jensen. "I've been working for hours and I deserve a break."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jensen says, "I'm immune to the begging eyes by now, Padalecki. Pack!"

"All right, all right! But since you're such a nice guy, you'll start taking boxes down to the truck for me, right?"

"I'm not doing your dirty work," Jensen grumbles, but he's already reaching towards the bed for a box. "Would serve you right if I chucked this all in the trash."

"Do that and you lose my vote."

"Good thing I'm more of a behind the scenes guy, then."

"You're still sure? I mean, Senator Ackles kinda has a ring to it."

"Yes. And even if I weren't, I wouldn't want your liberal Hollywood elite support anyway. I'd be the working man's candidate." Jensen hefts a box into his arms, face contorting with exaggerated effort. "See? This is what most of us call 'work,' which you wouldn't know, sitting behind a camera all day."

"You won't be calling me lazy anymore when my awesome directorial fame and humongous paychecks fund our kick-ass lifestyle."

"You might wanna hold off on planning your vision of our money-filled future until we've actually finished college. Or even started it." Jensen walks to the door, box in his hands. "Stop distracting me and pack!" he calls over his shoulder.

It takes Jensen a good hour to haul all of Jared's things down to the garage and into his father's truck, all while Jared's still in his room, on his butt, trying to shove every last piece of his wardrobe into one smallish suitcase. Jensen considers it a sign of his astounding maturity - and of how far gone he is over Jared - that he doesn't complain. Busy lifting the last box into its precarious spot, he doesn't immediately hear Jared coming up behind him, not until Jared's carelessly flinging his suitcase in alongside the boxes Jensen had just so precisely arranged. Jared shuts the tailgate and says, "That's it. Done! Making out now?"

There's a ridiculous amount of eagerness in Jared's voice, and it sends Jensen into a fit of laughter. "Jeeze, think with your dick, much?"

"Hey, don't blame me; you're the one who suggested it. You promised me making out." Jared reaches for him then, winding an arm around Jensen's waist to pull him in, pressing them together, chest to chest. "I might have a better idea, though."

"Yeah, and what would that be?" Jensen leans closer, teasingly within kissing distance.

"I don't think my mom'll mind if we grab dinner, s'long as I'm not back too late." It's clear from the hopeful look on Jared's face and the press of his hand on Jensen's lower back, that while, knowing Jared, he fully intends on getting dinner, that's not all that he's planning for the evening.

"You sure? I don't wanna ruin your last chance at a homemade meal."

"Food's good, but I like sneaking off to have sex better." Jared leans in to leave a lingering kiss low on Jensen's neck. His mouth still against skin, he begs, "C'mon, Jensen, live a little."

"All right, but you're buying."

Jared smiles excitedly. "I'll go grab my wallet."

They're ready to go few minutes later, Jared sprawling his lanky legs as much as he can in the cramped passenger seat of Jensen's junker of a car. "I just gotta be back by nine so I can actually get some sleep tonight," he says. "Can't believe we're leaving at four fucking thirty."

"That's what you get for going to school in California."

"Like you going all the way to D.C. is any better." Jared pauses for a moment, and then, quieter, says, "This fucking sucks. I mean, I knew it was gonna suck, but I didn't think it would be this bad. Why the hell'd we have to go in opposite directions?"

Jensen could remind him about their independent goals, about college applications sent out weeks before they came together. Jensen could finally say that he doesn't want Jared to leave, that he doesn't want to take the chance that this could change things. He settles for asking, "You're sure you don't want me to be there tomorrow morning?"

"No, making you get up that early'd just be mean. I'll call you as soon as we get there, though."

Jensen's about to start the car when he remembers. "Oh, hey, I got something for you." He leans over Jared and pops the glove box open, taking out the gift and tossing it into Jared's lap.

Jared picks up the stack of prepaid long-distance calling cards tied together in sparkly pink ribbon and examines it with a half-smile. "Wow. These'll be useful. Thanks, man."

Jensen wants to laugh it off, or maybe joke about using the cards for phone sex, but like many times before, he thinks about the space that will be between them, nearly the entire country separating them as they each chase their futures. Instead, he says, "Just… call a lot, all right?"

"'Course I will. We're gonna make this work, you'll see." Jared smiles, all his certainty there for Jensen to see. "Now where d'you wanna eat?"

Part One

2008

Jensen sets his notes down on the desk, looks out at the half-asleep group before him, and asks, "So, who can tell me about what kind of problems the Electoral College can pose?" Not a single hand goes up. Jensen didn't really expect to get an answer, so the silence isn't surprising. All eyes are on the clock on the back wall, and everyone in the room, even Jensen, watches each increasingly painful second tick by. "Anybody?" He resists the urge to sigh. "Okay… Kristin, how about you tell us?"

Kristin, who had spent most of class passing notes in the back of the room, leafs half-heartedly through her notebook to stall for a moment before saying, "Um, it makes it so candidates only really campaign in states with a lot of electoral votes?"

"All right, there we go. Yes, candidates tend to focus their campaigning on states that have more electoral votes while bypassing smaller states completely. That's just one of the several reasons why a lot of people aren't happy with the system." Glancing at the clock yet again, Jensen makes a decision. "But we've only got couple of minutes left, so we'll stop there without discussing the rest. There will be a quiz on the Electoral College tomorrow, so you better be familiar with this stuff, guys. And don't forget that your presidential candidate profiles are due Monday, no exceptions. You're free to go."

Permission given, his previously zombie-like students break into a flurry of movement, gathering papers and books and bags, shuffling out of the classroom as quickly as possible. Jensen leans against his desk, watching them leave, nearly as eager as the teenagers to go, and as the last of them steps out with a goodbye, Mr. Ackles, he grabs his keys. He shuts off the lights and leaves, locking the empty room behind him, and makes his way down the halls, past the office, and to the teachers' lounge, dodging groups of students as he walks.

The teachers' lounge at Goodson High School isn't anything remarkable; in fact, Jensen's pretty sure it's exactly like every other staff room in every other under-funded public school in the country. There are chairs and tables to match those in the lunch room, a refrigerator, and a couple of nearly threadbare couches. The bell hasn't rung yet, and it's mostly empty when Jensen arrives, though Mike is there already, sitting at the table as he enthusiastically digs into a tray of cafeteria mush covered in congealing cheese. Jensen grabs his much more appetizing lunch out of the fridge and sits.

"You look happy," Mike says around a mouthful of so-called food.

"I'm ready to strangle my entire government class. It's like they're trying to redefine senioritis. This year can't end soon enough."

"Dude, we've only got a few weeks left. And your day does not compare to mine. I caught Mitch Levi jerking off in the second floor bathroom in the middle of second period."

"What the hell? Ugh, that's disgusting."

"Yeah, I coulda done without ever having walked in on that. At least he had the stall door closed; I don't even wanna think about the alternative." He makes a disgusted noise.

"At least you're not the one who has to call his parents. That conversation's going to set a new bar for awkward," Jensen points out.

"Dude, can you imagine Johnston on the phone with them? That's not gonna be pleasant." Mike shudders at the thought before digging back in to his lunch. "Oh, by the way, I haven't gotten a RSVP from you for the reunion yet," he says after a moment.

This is the conversation Jensen's been dreading since Mike first handed him the damned invitation. He sets down his fork and cringes, just a little, before answering, "That's because I'm not going."

"Jensen-"

"Don't even start. I'm not going."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't want to," Jensen answers, his voice strained.

"That's no reason! You do things you don't want to all the time."

"And most of them are because you drag me into it."

"That's because you'd be boring as all hell if I didn't. C'mon, we'll make fun of everyone who's got a crappier job than us. And the jocks, Jensen! What about the out-of-shape jocks? They deserve mocking. It'll be fun!"

"I'm not going to the damned reunion."

"You're going to abandon your very best friend, the one who has put massive amounts of work into this thing as head of the Class of '98 Reunion Committee, because you're an antisocial fuckwit?"

"Mike, you are the only member of the Reunion Committee. And I'm not antisocial. Paying an arm and a leg for mediocre catering and forced conversation with people I didn't like even in high school isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"Hey, the catering isn't going to be mediocre. I checked them out myself." He looks almost affronted.

"Yeah, because you've got such great taste." He points to Mike's nearly empty plate of cafeteria 'food' with a roll of his eyes.

"You wound me." Mike overdramatically clutches at his heart. "And don't change the subject! You don't have to stay for the whole thing, just stick around for the meal and then you can go. I'll even pay for your dinner."

"Why're you so hot for me to go?"

"'Cause it ain't a party without you there, sugar-lips," he croons, making the most disturbing kiss-y face Jensen's ever seen. "Plus, I can't be the only representative of the 'Never Left Goodson' Club."

"One more reason for me not to go. You expect me to tell all these people that I'm lame enough to still be stuck at the school we graduated from?"

"Well, I was more thinking that you'd tell them that we're international spies or porn directors or something equally awesome sounding."

"Yeah, 'cause they'll believe that."

Mike sighs. "Really, Jensen-"

"Wow, you're using your serious voice."

"Damn right I am. I've put a fuck-ton of work into the reunion and I'd really appreciate it if you'd show up, at least just for a little while. And yeah, you'll probably be your stupid awkward self and not talk to anybody, but maybe, maybe you'll have some actual fun that involves interacting with other people for once."

The way Jensen sees it, there are two ways he can deal with Mike's continued begging. He can continue to resist and just suffer through it, or give in, deal with the few hours of torture, and then finally get some peace. Faced with those prospects, it's not much of a choice. "All right, I'll go, if it'll get you off my back. But only for an hour or two, and you're paying for it."

"Yes!" Mike pumps a fist in the air. "I knew you'd cave eventually."

"I mean it. You pay for everything, even my bar tab, got it?"

"I promise."

"And when I want to leave, you don't stop me. Don't pull this begging crap again."

"I swear on the grave of my dearly departed goldfish that I won't make you stick around for the slide show."

Jensen shakes his head. "I don't know why the hell I ever listen to you."

"Because if you didn't have me, you'd be a lonely, crazy old cat lady. But a guy instead. And without cats." Mike stands abruptly and smacks Jensen lightly on the shoulder. "I'll put you down on the RSVP list first thing when I get home. Now I gotta get back down to the lab; we're blowing shit up today. The wonders of chemistry!" He enthusiastically bounds off, leaving Jensen with his empty cafeteria tray and only a few minutes to finish lunch.

* * * * *

Jensen makes it through the rest of the school year, despite the apathy of his senior government class, though he's tempted more than once to fail them all. From the moment Principal Johnston hands out the last diploma at graduation, Jensen's determined to sleep through the entire vacation like a well-earned summertime hibernation. Jensen considers this an awesome plan, at least until one mid-June Saturday afternoon when Mike shows up on his doorstep in the ugliest suit known to man and says, "Yeah, I know, you forgot about the reunion. That's okay, we've got time. Just get your ass inside and let's get you ready to go."

Jensen's still confused as Mike pushes his way inside. "What are you talking about?" he asks around a yawn.

"The class reunion. The one you promised you'd go to, for me."

"You still insist on making me go to this thing?" Jensen crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. This impending self-humiliation is far from what he'd been planning to do on his Saturday night.

"Promised, Jensen. You promised."

"Mike-"

"No, don't even try to get out if it. You said you'd go and you're going and that's it." Mike mirrors Jensen's stance, arms crossed stubbornly. "Why're you so dead-set against going? You trying to avoid something?"

"Yeah, I am. Our entire graduating class. Who I planned on never seeing ever again."

"You're coming if I have to knock you out and stuff you in my friggin' trunk."

"Hell no, if I'm stuck without a car, you'll make me stay the entire time."

"You can bring your own car and follow me there, but you are coming to the damned reunion."

"Okay, yes, I'm coming. Like I told you I would. I just need to get ready," Jensen says resignedly.

"Finally! Now where the hell do you keep your nice clothes?" Mike starts to take the stairs two at a time.

"Oh no, no way, you can wait down here. If I have to go to this thing, I gotta shower first. Anyway, the last thing I want is you going through my closet."

"Yeah, 'cause there's only room for your gay self in there."

"Can we make it one day without an 'in the closet' joke? Please?"

"Maybe, but that day is not today. Go, get clean and dressed. And come back in a better mood. I'll just be here helping myself to your cable." He hops off the stairs and crosses the room to plop himself down on the sofa, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. Jensen marvels at Mike for a moment, and then turns to go upstairs, trying to remember where he put the least ugly of the ties his mother has bought him over the years.

* * * * *

Several hours later, Jensen's cursing Mike, the school, NSync, the cost of the gas it took to get to Dallas, and life in general. Things sucked from the start. Mike had rented a hotel ballroom in the city for the event, and the drive had been excruciatingly bad thanks to traffic and Jensen's ever-mounting dread. He spent every minute since he walked into the place, large Welcome Goodson High Class of 1998! banner hanging over the doors, regretting how easily he gave in to Mike's begging. There'd been a particularly torturous hour running around to help finish setting up the incredibly cheesy decorations: balloons and streamers, sparkly confetti and posters of blown-up yearbook photos, all of it trimmed out in the school colors. By the time the first people start arriving, Jensen is rumpled, a little sweaty, and thoroughly annoyed. That's when Mike ditches him, bouncing around the room to play the happy host, saying hello to each new arrival and using his few free moments only to ask the DJ to play the kind of terrible pop songs that are best left to die in the 90's.

Which leaves Jensen standing near the bar, forced to nurse his drink in the company of one Brenda Dresser, former homecoming queen contender. She's average height with dyed blonde hair and enough cleavage showing to have any straight guy drooling all over himself - the kind of girl who never would have given Jensen the time of day ten years ago. Now, however, she seems perfectly content to talk Jensen's ear off.

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember you now," she says. "You were one of those guys on debate team or model UN or something, right?"

"Yeah." Jensen sips his drink, looking anywhere but at Brenda because he knows where her questions are inevitably going, and just thinking about it has him feeling the beginnings of a dull pain in his head.

"We didn't have any classes together, did we?"

"No, we didn't."

"That is too bad." She lays a hand lightly on Jensen's forearm before he can pull away. "If we did, maybe I could've gotten to know you better. So what did you end up doing after graduation?"

"Um, college, first. Teaching high school now." He doesn't tell her where.

"That sounds nice. I work at a department store, at least until I save up enough money to enroll in some classes, but that won't be for a while. I live just a couple of towns away, actually." Brenda looks pointedly from where she's still touching Jensen down to his left hand. "So, you're a teacher… are you married? Kids? Dating anyone?"

And there's the question Jensen knew was coming, and has spent the entire conversation trying to figure out how to answer decisively without flying a rainbow flag. He settles on, "I'm not really looking for a relationship right now."

"Really?" She pouts a little, like kid who's been told she can't have another cookie, which Jensen thinks looks pretty damned undignified. But he's saved from further inquiry into his love life when Brenda's interrupted by another similarly over-perky woman who drags her off to discuss what became of their various former friends.

It can only get more awkward from there.

Jensen talks to at least three more women who try to flirt with him. There's Sarah Pearson, once a band geek; Tara Mancini, former basketball star; and Gina McHugh, who sat next to him in AP History class junior year. He turns them down as politely as he can, and in Sarah's case, desperately hides behind a fake tree when her disgruntled-looking husband comes by. Jensen also catches up with Molly and Joe Atwater, who were both in debate with him. They got married three years after graduation and have a baby on the way. He speaks with a guy named Dave, who he didn't know in school, and who's living in Tulsa and tending bar. Senior Class President Juan Martinez, now a lawyer in Houston, tells him, "Weren't you all gung ho for government stuff? Thought I woulda seen you on a ballot by now, or backing up some politician at press conferences."

I thought so too, Jensen thinks, but doesn't say.

After that, the massive amount of people clamoring to talk to anyone in the vicinity seems to slow to a trickle, and Jensen stays where he is, glad to have at least a minute of relative peace. It's not any quieter though, since a big group inexplicably begins to gather in the opposite corner of the room, the low buzz of their chatter filling the place. Even with the moment to himself, the slight pain of a headache that had begun somewhere behind Jensen's eyes is becoming a steadier throb. He quickly downs the rest of his drink, checks that the way to the door is clear, and decides to make a break for it. He's almost home free, just a few strides away from the exit, when Mike practically jumps out in front of him.

"Dude, where're you going?" Mike asks. "They're doing dinner in a few minutes."

"I'm just getting some air."

Mike's eyes narrow. "Uh-huh. You're a shitty liar, you know; you're trying to sneak out. I paid for it, so you at least need to stay to eat. Please?"

There go Jensen's plans of running away. He resigns himself and says, "I'm not leaving, I promise. Just going outside for a break. I can only take so many of the Backstreet Boys' greatest hits before I go insane."

"Don't lie, bitch, you love it. You know you had a hard on for Nick Carter."

"I think you're getting you and me confused again. You're the one who's trying to kill us all with boy bands. Now let me just get some air."

"But you're coming back."

"Yes, Mike, I will be back in a few minutes. Go! Do… whatever you've been doing all night."

"Okay, okay, I'll see you later," Mike says, traipsing off towards the bartender and leaving Jensen to head into the hotel's lobby.

It's mostly empty at this point, just a couple of staff, a few people from the reunion milling around, and Jensen walks on through to the front doors. Outside, it's a warm night, clear with no wind, but still more comfortable than stuffiness of the ballroom. He spies a bench in a poorly lit spot a few feet from the doors and sits, slouching forward and gripping the edge of the rough wood nearly hard enough to hurt. He takes a deep breath of night air and idly wonders if he has any Advil in his glove compartment.

He's there ten, maybe fifteen minutes, sitting and watching traffic pass on the nearby road, when he hears the automatic doors swish open again and someone approaches. Whoever it is asks, "Mind sharing the bench? It was getting a little crowded in there for me."

Jensen knows that voice. His head snaps up with the recognition, looking at the new arrival, and despite the dim light and the years since they've spoken, the man's features are familiar. "Jared?"

"Jensen?" Jared's jaw drops in obvious surprise. They stare at each other for a long moment, taking in the changes of nearly a decade apart. Jared's even taller, that much Jensen can tell, and he's no longer a skinny thing of a boy, if the stretch of Jared's jacket across his chest and shoulders is any indication. He's dressed very nicely; even Jensen, who knows little about fashion, can tell that his suit is very well-made and undoubtedly incredibly expensive. Jared looks good. And Jensen knows that he's getting the same look-over, that Jared is cataloguing differences the same way.

It feels almost surreal, to see this strange, new person and know that it is Jared, the same boy who had been nearly attached to Jensen's hip through middle and high school. The boy who'd been Jensen's first, and thus far only, love. The one who'd gone off to California and achieved all his dreams, and the absolute last person Jensen wants to talk to tonight.

Jared is the first to break their silence, saying, "I would've thought you wouldn't be caught dead here."

"Yeah, well, Mike nagged me until I said I'd come," Jensen reluctantly replies.

"That explains it. He could always be one annoying fucker."

"That he is," Jensen agrees. "What about you? Don't you have a movie set to be on, or an award show or something?"

"I'm in between projects right now, so I came down to visit the family for a bit. My parents told me 'bout the reunion and I figured it might be kinda fun, so here I am. Didn't realize you'd come." Jared shrugs, and then takes a seat next to Jensen, leaving as much space between them as possible on the small bench, but still close enough that they could touch, warm and real and so unlike any memory. "Haven't talked to you since spring of freshman year. How've you been?"

"Okay, mostly, if you don't count being stuck at this thing."

"I know what you mean. The second someone saw me, I got swamped with people asking for autographs. Couldn't they just dig out their old yearbooks? I'm pretty sure I signed most of them." He laughs.

Jensen rolls his eyes, though Jared probably can't see it in the dark. "Yeah, the poor award-winning director has to sign stuff."

"You heard about the Spirit Awards? You keeping up with my career or something?" A corner of Jared's mouth turns upward in a little almost-smile.

"Not really, but it's kinda hard to avoid your news coverage."

"Oh," Jared says, and there's a tone to his voice that Jensen can't quite place, though he's sure he could've, once. "What about you; what're you doing now?"

"Not much. Nothing as exciting as you." Just things Jensen would like to avoid talking about.

"Where d'you end up? Still Texas, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah." He means to leave it there and tell Jared as little as possible about all the ways he's fucked up. But one thing he's never done to Jared is lie, even by omission, and Jensen finds himself reluctantly continuing, "I'm still in Goodson. Teaching history and government at the high school."

Jared looks surprised, and maybe a little puzzled, just for a moment before it's gone. "That's good, Jensen. That sounds… good," he says. He pauses, like he's not sure what to say for once in his life. "Uh, how's your family doing?"

"They're fine."

"Your parents still live here?"

"No. Mom and Dad moved to be closer to Josh now that he's got a kid. How's your family?"

"They're doing good." Another period of silence, neither one looking at the other, until Jared says, "So, I think they've probably already started with the dinner and stuff, we should probably get back inside if we want to eat."

If Jensen wanted to leave before, that's nothing to how he feels now at the prospect of following Jared inside and submitting himself to more of this strained conversation. "No, I think I'm gonna head home; if I have to spend another five minutes in boy band hell, I think I'll shoot myself. Mike can just be pissed at me."

"You sure? He's not gonna let you get away that easy."

"Yeah, I can deal with him tomorrow," Jensen says as he stands. "But I should get outta here before he comes looking for me."

Jared gets up too. "Okay. Maybe I'll see you around town sometime before I leave?"

"Yeah… maybe."

Jensen turns to leave, fishing his car keys out of his pocket as he goes. He's halfway to the parking lot when Jared calls out, "It was good to see you." Jensen looks back to where Jared stands in front of the hotel doors, watching him go. "Good night, Jensen."

"Good night," Jensen answers and continues to his truck, unlocking the door and climbing in. He takes a deep breath, and then reaches over to the glove compartment, opening it and rifling through until his hand closes around plastic. He pulls out the bottle of Advil, twists it open, and shakes out two pills, which he swallows dry, hoping that they'll kick in quickly. Jensen rests his forehead against the wheel. It's silent and dark in the truck's cab, and his brain is still trying to pound its way out of his skull. But despite the headache, he picks himself up after a few minutes, sticks the keys in the ignition, and starts the car, ready to leave the reunion behind him.

* * * * *

The next evening, Jensen's more than glad to walk into the only bar he ever really frequents. It's fairly empty, even for this early a Sunday, which suits him just fine since he's had about enough of crowds to last him for quite a while. Only a couple of tables are occupied, there's a smattering of people sitting at the bar, and it's the sound of whatever music's playing, more than the talking patrons, that fills the room. With a hello nod to the bartender, Jensen heads towards a table near the back.

Mike slides a drink over to the other side of the table as Jensen pulls out a chair. "I can't believe you just left last night without telling me," he says with a frown.

Jensen sits, grabs the beer Mike got him, and takes a long swallow. "What, you expected me to go back in there… with Jared?"

"Well, no, but you could've called after you ran away like a little girl, you know, instead of not answering your phone 'til this afternoon. And notice how I didn't bring up that you left early."

"It was Jared. No way was I sticking around after that."

"I know. I'm not blaming you for going; hell, I probably would've left too if my ex had been there. That's a little too awkward even for me."

"That's assuming you had ever gotten any in high school to actually have an ex."

"Yeah, yeah." Mike waves off the teasing and leans in closer to say, "Look, I didn't realize he was going to show up and I'm sorry. I couldn't even find a way to get an invite to him, so I figured he wouldn't know about it. I wouldn't have pushed so hard for you to go if I ever thought he was going to come."

Jensen shakes his head. "Jared was supposed to fuck off to Hollywood and stay there, not like you could've known. Not your fault he didn't get the memo. But thanks anyway."

"We're good then?" Mike asks, and Jensen nods. Mike leans back and sips his drink, then says, "Okay, then now that's done, tell me everything."

Jensen sets his beer down and struggles not to sound whiny when he says, "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you have to. I claim best friend privilege."

"Of course you do," Jensen sighs. "What do you wanna know?"

"Everything. Full twenty questions: what he's doing here, how he is. How does he look?"

"Good, I guess. Couldn't really see him well with how dark it was. He's like giant now. Tall and built."

"So still pretty, then?" Jensen says nothing and Mike raises an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a yes. What'd he say?"

"Not much. I only talked to him for a couple of minutes. He asked how I was, what I was doing, how my parents are. Just regular stuff." Mike makes some kind of flailing gesture, urging him to continue. "I don't know, that's it. It was uncomfortable and I made an excuse to leave before it could get worse."

"Did he mention the breakup at all?"

"No, not specifically, thank god. Don't know what I would've said if he did."

"Is he gonna be in town much longer?"

"I don't know. He said something about hoping to see me later, so..." He shrugs.

"Do you want to see him?"

Jensen finishes his drink and, looking at the empty bottle, says, "No."

"No?"

"No. I broke up with him like nine years ago. I got over it."

"If you say so. I'd be more inclined to believe you if you'd actually dated anyone, oh, ever."

"Don't start on that, Mike. And I'm the one who ended it. Jared and I were on opposite ends of the country, the distance wasn't working, and yeah, it sucks, but that was a long time ago. I just want him to go back to California and let me get back to my regular life."

"Okay, yeah, you're over him. I'll drop it if you get the next round."

"Sure, anything to get you to shut up 'bout this."

After that, Mike keeps to his word and doesn't bring Jared up again, though he does ramble on for at least an hour about everything Jensen missed at the reunion. Business in the bar picks up a little as it gets later in the evening, and Jensen pays more attention to watching patrons come and go than he does to Mike's stories, though he makes all the right noises to act like he's listening intently. Jensen's idly gazing at the door when it opens and in comes, of all people, Jared.

The lighting's better at the bar than it was outside the hotel the previous night. This time, Jensen can actually get a decent look at Jared, and decides that his earlier assessment was right. Jared is easily taller than anybody else in the room, to the point where Jensen wonders if he'll hit his head on the low-hanging lamps. And Jared has indeed filled out, t-shirt showing off how muscular his arms have gotten, his face no longer rounded with youth. Time has been good to him.

Jensen knows he has about thirty seconds to duck out the back door if he wants to avoid repeating last night's uneasy conversation, but he can't seem to move fast enough. He sees the moment when Jared catches sight of them; Jared startles, just a bit, his eyes widening as flicker of uncertainty flashes across his face. But Jared seems to make a decision a moment later, and he crosses the bar and comes right for Jensen's table.

"Hey," Jared says when reaches them.

Jensen just nods in greeting, but Mike smiles enthusiastically and says, "Jared! Didn't get to see you last night. How are you doing? Jensen said you're visiting the family?"

"Aw man, I've been home less than a week and my parents are already driving me crazy. Had to get out awhile before I started thinkin' about slitting my own throat."

"I hear ya, I hear ya. A week's about all I can stand with my family without considering homicide."

"Sounds about right. So, um, you mind if I join you guys?" Jared's happy expression wavers slightly, unsure as he looks straight to Jensen for an answer.

Jensen means to make another excuse for a quick escape, he really does, but against his better judgment, he finds himself saying, "Go ahead." Mike rolls his eyes at that, but Jared breaks out into a full on smile, dimples and all, and Jensen has to remind himself not to give in to the old urge to smile back just as brightly.

Jared gets himself set up with a drink and then takes a seat next to Jensen, and his easy sprawl nearly has their legs touching, like so many times Jensen remembers. He turns to Mike and says, "By the way, nice job with the reunion. I had fun."

"Thanks; it's good to hear that. See, Jensen? Jared appreciates my hard work."

"Yeah," is all Jensen says, even though both of them have their eyes on him. He's already made the mistake of inviting Jared to stick around; he's not going to succumb to Mike's attempts to draw him further into the conversation only to be faced with Jared's charm and success and all the issues they never resolved.

When Jensen says nothing else, Jared turns back to Mike and continues, "Sorry I didn't get over to say hi last night."

"Eh, it's no problem. You were pretty damn swamped. Looked like they couldn't get enough of seeing the Hollywood hotshot grace us with his presence."

"Yeah, it's a consequence of being so awesome." Jared laughs. "They saw all the dumb-ass things I did in high school, so you'd figure they wouldn't be quite so excited to see me."

"You underestimate the power of celebrity."

"Wouldn't really call myself a celebrity, but if that's what one little blockbuster gets me, then I guess so. So, c'mon, you know what I've been doing. Tell me what you've been up to."

"Forcing Goodson's teenagers to learn chemistry, mostly. A few odd things over the summers. Dating my way through every single woman this half of Texas. And keeping an eye on this asshat, of course." He points to Jensen.

"You work at the high school too? So you two work together, kinda." Again, Jared looks expectantly at Jensen, a blatant shot at coaxing him into talking.

"Sort of," Jensen says.

"We're in different departments," Mike explains. "Not much crossover with science and social studies, so not really working together as just working in the same building."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You guys working over the vacation this year?"

"Summer school, for less pay and more annoyance. Otherwise known as legalized torture."

Jensen only says, "Not this year."

"He's a lazy bum who thinks he actually deserves a break," Mike says.

"Hey, I can't blame you," Jared directs this to Jensen. "I'd tear my hair out before I set foot back in that school again on a regular basis."

Jensen says nothing, though he had thought that way too, before.

Mike and Jared talk for what seems to Jensen like long minutes, about high school, the years after, Texas, sports, all of it with minimum input from Jensen. The conversation lulls eventually. Jensen is unwilling to speak more than he has to, while Mike and Jared both seem to have run out of neutral topics. The silence goes on long enough to get weird; Jared starts to toy with the expensive watch on his wrist and Mike keeps looking back and forth between them. Jensen's aware that there are two sets of eyes on him, and he's sincerely regretting not leaving the minute Jared came in.

Abruptly, Mike stands up and announces, "Well boys, there's a urinal calling my name. Be back in a few." Jared waves him off, but Jensen shoots his worst glare in Mike's direction, knowing full well that the coward is really just turning tail in the face of the awkwardness. He doesn't even have the decency to look sorry as he walks away, leaving Jensen alone with Jared.

"Mike doesn't seem to have changed much. 'Sides from the shaved head, anyway. That's new," Jared says, finally breaking the quiet.

"He started doing that last year, and yeah, he's still a pain in the ass."

"Just like always." Jared laughs. "You gotta remember that time with that terrible fake ID he got from that guy Josh knew. And he thought he'd get away with it at the liquor store, but he ran into his uncle…"

"…his uncle the state trooper," Jensen finishes.

"Man, he got in so much trouble. He was grounded, like, 'til graduation."

After a moment, Jared's laughter peters out weakly, his expression goes more serious and he gazes down at his drink. He wants to say something, Jensen can tell, something neither of them is going to like, and Jensen braces himself as Jared begins, "So, I lied to you last night. Well, not lied. More like stretched the truth a bit… I'm not just here to visit my family. You probably haven't seen, but I… I just got a divorce. From Katie, my wife. Well, ex-wife. We tried to keep it quiet, but it hit the gossip sites a few days ago and everything just kind of exploded. I needed to get away from it, so I decided to come down here for a while and hope it all of that blows over."

When Jared finishes his explanation, he seems almost wrecked, shoulders hunched, hair hanging in his face as he stares at a spot on the table, a little self-depreciating smile on his face. Jensen wonders if this is what Jared looked like after their breakup, if he wore this sad expression whenever he talked about the them they used to be. "I'm sorry," Jensen says, and he means it.

"Don't be. Don't get me wrong, the whole thing sucks out loud, but it'd been coming for a while; until it made headlines the divorce was pretty drama-free." Jared raises his head, his eyes meeting Jensen's before he continues, "But yeah, the point was that it's not the short visit I let you think it is. I'm probably going to be around for a month, maybe two. And, well, Goodson isn't the biggest town ever. If you live nearby, we'll probably run into each other pretty often."

"Oh." Jensen's not sure what to say to that. The thought of this, seeing Jared, face to face, of talking to him on a regular basis… Jensen's not sure what to say.

Suddenly, Jared softly says, "Do you hate me or something?"

"What? No." Jensen sputters. He's never hated Jared. He's been annoyed with him, been jealous, been certain it was going to end badly. He's been angry and devastated and so it love it fucking ached, but Jensen's never hated Jared. He asks, "What the hell gave you that idea?"

"You're clearly not comfortable with me being here. Heck, you can barely talk to me. And we didn't exactly part on great terms. Thinking you hate me isn't completely out there."

Jensen scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, Jared, I don't hate you. Never did. This is just… weird. I didn't actually expect to ever see you again and all of a sudden you're in town and trying to be all nice. You're kind of throwing me for a loop, here."

"I don't mean to."

"You never do."

Jared plays with the label on his beer bottle, still looking anywhere but at Jensen. "If you really don't hate me, then, well, I know it's strange, but…" Jared shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What is it?"

"It's stupid. You can tell me to fuck off."

"No, go ahead."

Jared takes a long breath and tries to several times to start explaining, before he finally starts, "We were friends first, Jensen. Before, well, everything, we were best friends. And then we got together and… we broke up, and it sucked, having to just cut you completely out of my life like that. I'd always regretted that I didn't look you up after some time. I wished we'd at least tried to get back to that, before. And then I saw you last night, and I'm going to be sticking around town, and I thought maybe… maybe." Jared shrugs.

"You want to be friends again."

"I understand if it makes you too uncomfortable. Just say the word and I'll turn and walk away any time I see you. We can pretend this conversation never happened. But if you think, if it's okay, maybe we could hang out some time."

Jensen can't answer, not right away. This is something he had never considered, even in those first long days when he felt Jared's absence as acutely as he would a missing limb, or when he still had to remind himself not to dial Jared's number for every failure and every triumph. Even when he missed Jared the most, Jensen had never thought that there could be hope for their friendship because - Jensen could admit it to himself now - he'd loved Jared too much then to settle for anything less than together. It was all or nothing with them at that point, and nothing was where they'd always been headed.

But now, with years between them instead of miles, at least for the time being, Jensen is curious, no matter how much he doesn't want to be. He wonders if they can get back to that comfortable place, when they truly knew the whole of each other, before the interference of that white-hot want that drove them towards more. From the time Jared had moved to Goodson during the seventh grade, they'd been inseparable, to the point where Jensen couldn't say anything without Jared finishing the thought first. Jensen hasn't had a friend like that since, not even Mike, and it's tempting.

"You have to go back to California eventually," Jensen points out, despite the appeal.

"I'm not saying we have to be bestest friends forever. I want to be able to say hi when I see you in town, to get together a couple of times when I'm here. Maybe shoot you an email every once in awhile when I get home. If it's still too awkward, then no harm, no foul, we don't see each other 'til the twenty year reunion. That's all." Jared's looking at Jensen intently now, expression not the soulful pleading Jensen once would have expected; instead he looks only hopeful, if still a bit nervous.

It's definitely something, the idea of rekindling their friendship. Of maybe trying to get back some of the closeness they once shared, with no expectations this time to make Jensen feel like a failure if it doesn't work out. And Jared would like it, appeasing Jensen's still-present impulse to make Jared happy. It feels like something Jensen can do. Though he's not quite sure what pushes him over the edge, Jensen says, "Okay."

"Okay?" Jared repeats, eyes wide like he can't quite believe that Jensen agreed.

"Yeah, okay. We can try the friends thing."

Jared practically beams at Jensen, like those few words have made all his problems in life disappear, like their conversation hadn't just skirted over some pretty painful territory for them both. He looks happy, uncomplicatedly, absolutely happy to be able to count Jensen among his friends once more. "Thanks, Jensen," he says. "You don't know what… just thanks."

"It always did take so little to make you happy. You're like a cat. Give you a piece of string and you're entertained for hours," Jensen jokes, knowing it's weak and far too familiar, but he's desperate to break this building hopeful tension between them.

Jared lets out a barking laugh. "Yeah, I make the perfect pet. I'm even housetrained."

Before it gets more uncomfortable, Mike chooses to take that minute to finally reappear from his hiding place in the bathroom with a, "Missed me?" He smacks Jensen lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry to deprive you gentlemen of my company, but I gotta head out. Unlike you lazy asses, I actually have to be at work in the morning. The little darlings won't fail themselves."

"Yeah, yeah. You just want your beauty sleep," Jared says. "Go on, you definitely need it."

"I should go too. I've got a full plate tomorrow, no matter what this douchebag says." Jensen stands and stretches a bit, limbs stiff from too long spent sitting. "You going to stick around?" he asks Jared.

"Probably." Jared checks his watch. "It's good to have some time alone. I'm not quite ready to go back home."

"Heh, well good luck with the rest of your family time," Mike says.

"Yeah, thanks. And Jensen, thanks again. I'll call you some time, maybe?"

"Um, sure. That'd be okay. So, good night, I guess."

"Good night, guys." Jared waves them both off.

Jensen turns to head for the exit, Mike following. They leave the low din of the bar behind them, stepping into the parking lot and the oppressively hot night. The moment the door's closed, Mike's on him. "He can call you?"

"It's not… I don't know…" Jensen shakes his head. "Don't ask. And nice job, leaving me alone there with him, asshole."

Mike holds up his hands. "Yeah, I know, I'm a wuss. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I hope so too."

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