Release Me 8
Title: Release Me
Author: 3rd_leg
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Always read the fine print, 'cause I thought for sure this time I had finally succeeded, but alas.
Summary: Jensen's making progress, Chris is trying to play both sides, Sandy's back, and Jared's breaking and confused.
A/N: My brain's been mush for a while. Please let me know if you feel I've lost my mind or that this was lackluster....
XXXX
Chris tugs on the curtains of the too small window. “What’s green, blue, and better than the ICU?”
Jensen bites his bottom lip in feigned consideration. “Steve’s new album?”
“Hell no,” Chris laughs, hopping over the recliner chair arm and landing heavily on the seat, boots resting on the edge of Jensen’s bed. “Dude can’t even decide on the play list for that thing.”
Jensen pushes himself up to a sit. Unleash the fan crowd, bitches. He can so do that on his own now. “Thought you vowed on a dozen Coronas to help with that.”
“That I did,” Chris agrees with a smirk. “’S why that boy’s back in L.A. as we speak. Got his ass to the grind. Lemme tell ya.”
Jensen chuckles, but grows somber so quickly Chris has whiplash. “Haven’t heard from Eric really. Just what Jared tells me. I mean, it’s not like him to not try to get in contact. Unless it’s bad. I still got a job, right? We’re still on? Wait, Jay would tell me if we weren’t. Right?”
Jensen knows he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Chris can take it. And yeah, usually Jared does, but Jensen’s not sure Jared’s running on all cylinders at the moment. He’s got enough on his plate with she-who-won’t-stop-calling.
“That’ll do, Jensen,” Chris cracks the knuckles on his left hand. “Speaking of Padalecki, how’s it going with you and Jay-man?”
“Been kinda, I dunno, different since I woke up. Think it’s just stress, you know?” Jensen can feel the redness on his cheeks and ducks his head. “But fine. Good. Fine.”
“Ah, now, c’mon. I was just asking. No strings I swear.” Chris raises his hands in mock surrender and smiles. And shit, Jensen knows that smile.
Jensen’s eyes widen, his mouth gaping wide enough to catch flies. “You told him? I’m-I’m…if you told him I’m gonna kill you, Kane.”
“I didn’t say nothing, Ackles.” Chris defends but doesn’t lose the shit-eating grin regardless of Jensen’s horrified expression. “He’s sans girl now. All I’m saying.”
“He doesn’t need that right now. I can’t…not now.” Jensen gapes, self-consciously eyeing his reflection in the metal paper towel dispenser. “’Sides, if I did tell him how I feel, I-I’d want to be somewhere…not here. And I’d wanna shave first and wear my own clothes.”
Chris smirks. “Gonna sweep him off his gargantuan feet, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jensen retorts, its firm but without heat. He figures he must be looking stressed because Chris goes from amused to serious pretty damn quick. That’s all Jensen needs for a go ahead to channel his anxiety. “They could still patch things up. That could happen. He loves her. I know he’s the one that called it but-”
“He tell you why?” Chris interjects, and Jensen shakes his head. “He’s gonna say its cause of one thing. Listen here, it ain’t. He may not wanna admit it. But it just ain’t.”
Jensen purses his lips, his head tilted as he processes the statement. “What are you guys not telling me?”
Boots slam against the shiny linoleum and Chris leans forward, elbows on knees. “Whatcha mean?”
“I mean, Doc told me I had bacterial meningitis and gave me a warning lecture for side effects. I got the gist of what happened from Dad. You know, how I got here. But that’s it. And don’t tell me there’s not something else.”
“Same shit different day, man.” Chris responds, his tone level and damn unaffected by Jensen’s frustration which ain’t helping Jensen’s anger any. “Give it time, alright? You need to keep getting better, not over do it ‘cause of random crap.”
“But-“
“I got enough blame coming my way. I ain’t gonna be the reason you scare everybody again.” Chris snaps, and fuck if it don’t sting when the words hit Jensen’s ears.
“How bad?” Jensen whispers to the hospital sheets.
Chris rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Watcha mean?”
“How bad did I scare…him?”
XXXXXX
“Dude, you suck!” Jared shrieks, hammering the controller as he tries to throw in a pass off the baseline. He’s down by one now thanks to another of Jensen’s offensive three-point strategy buckets.
“Can’t hit one for shit in reality, Jay,” Jensen laughs, struggling to see the position of his digital players on the small hospital TV. Of course, Jared’s hulky stance directly in front of the tiny screen also had something to do with it. “Man, fucking move!”
The tell-tale music and programmed ‘sweet play’ hit Jensen’s ears. He glares when Jared steps aside doing his victory party dance, leaving Jensen forced to watch the game’s replay of the totally cheating fast break dunk for the leading score.
“Dude, you’re killing me here!” Jensen whines through laughter. He knows his frustration is badly feigned, so he has no choice but to throw the controller for further emphasis. This is the most fun he’s had in a while, but letting Jared blatantly see he doesn’t mind losing to him? That’d earn Jensen’s torture for eternity. The smile on Jensen’s face reaches the point of aching before he realizes Jared has just…stopped.
Jensen scrambles for the controller and places the game on pause. Jared’s frozen mid-dance pose was something straight out of the ‘things to do at camera to make the crew laugh’ game they play in down time on set. Seriously, Jay’s scary good at it and Jensen pays the staff photographer a nice bonus every month for the proofs. So, see, he almost looks funny, and Jensen’s tempted to laugh until he sees past the body configuration and actually meets Jared’s unblinking stare.
“Jay?”
It’s soft and quiet. It had felt like anything louder than a whisper would spook Jared like a caged animal. But, Jensen was wrong. All it took was him gently murmuring Jared’s name to send the man bolting from the room.
XXXXXX
Jared curls in on himself, damn near fetal position and huddles his tall frame in the corner of the stairwell four flights above Jensen’s floor. His rapid breath and crushing sobs echo through the stone and metal space. He can’t make it stop and dammit, he’s been fucking trying for what seems like hours.
He swipes angrily at the tears pouring down his face. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out with a growl lodged in his throat. He ignores the call and pauses when the home screen reappears. Jared swallows thickly, his thumb directing the screen to display the calendar.
Jared tilts his head back against the wall, his neck stretched and jerking as he fights the tumultuous roller coaster of emotions he’s been on since day one. Day one of twenty seven.
He’s told himself every long, painful day that he’d be better once Jensen was. It’s day twenty-eight today. And Jared can’t for the life of him figure out why he’s losing his mind, and it’s all closing in.
XXXXXX
Jensen rounds the corner of the hallway and flails his arms in search of the railing. Physical therapy is a bitch and the constant tugging on the gait belt isn’t doing much to help his self-confidence with this whole walking thing. It’s downright humiliating people are seeing him like this. God forbid someone snap a picture. He’s becoming a hermit if even one god-forsaken fansite posts one.
Its better when Jared walks with him, short treks as they may be. He was really worried after the whole break up ordeal and the fleeing from the room snafu. The walks are definitely a ploy to keep tabs on Jay-man’s current state, and well other states of events during Jensen’s lost time. Although, Jensen certain Jared wasn’t being completely honest about having to give Eric a BJ to keep his sick friend hired, or that Jay’s fantasy team is currently in the lead.
Regardless of honesty, Jensen can see a hint of the spark returning in Jared, dull as it may be behind dark-circled eyes, thinning frame, and sunken shoulders. He and Jared have way more to discuss, but it secretly makes him all kinds of proud that he, Jensen Ackles, is the one that can bring Jared back to well, Jared. Bottom line, it feels normal, not sterile and awkward like everything else in this fucking place.
Rebecca, however, insists the hospital is paying her so Jensen’s just going to have to put up with her most days. But seriously, he’s had to deal with her three days straight and he’s officially bored with small talk and mini-pep squad routines when he fumbles for his footing.
“Just one more lap around the hall, and we’ll call it a day,” Rebecca chirps, her ponytail flicking back and forth with the bouncing of her head.
Jensen’s brain screams obscenities at her pleasure in regards to his torture. “Already did four!”
“And I’m proud of you for that,” Rebecca grins. Jensen growls.
By the time they make it halfway, Jensen’s breathless. No matter what Rebecca thinks, his slant to the right was so not an attempt to run her into the wall. More of a chair. Now. Seriously. Right the fuck now.
“Shit!” Jensen heaves, allowing Rebecca to steer him into the waiting room and into a chair. Jensen feels the blush on his face when the scattered strangers look his way.
“You’ve been in bed awhile. It’ll get easier the more you start using those muscles again.” The therapist encourages, the always plastered grin tapering off into a concerned frown. “Does it feel like your legs are going to give out on you, or is it more or a throbbing all over pain?”
“Both?” Jensen responds, his voice low.
“I’ll get a chair to take you back to the room then.” Rebecca states with a nod, and she’s vacated the room before Jensen can even start to argue.
He chooses to ignore the small dispersed crowd and their rapidly diverting stares and tugs at his hospital gown self-consciously. A loud, throaty laugh echoes down the hall, and Jensen feels his heart skip a beat, sweat rapidly dampening his palms. He tries to sit up straighter when footsteps draw nearer.
Jensen’s forehead scrunches as the laughter gets closer and he realizes that its more bellowing than gasping and definitely more deeper in comparison to Padalecki cackling. He leans back deflated when the unknown man, in a fit of chuckling, saunters past the waiting room entrance. Jensen sighs. He’s getting tired of falling asleep and waking up in this place just to miss Jared’s familiar company.
Jensen really doesn’t know when Jared became the one thing he looked forward to in the day, but he’s certain the Sasquatch is. He knows that should mean something, but he’s not sure Jared would think so.
XXXXXX
Jared watches the thin line of smoke puncture the air as he exhales. He twists the cigarette into the cement ledge and taps another one out of the box. He’s moderately startled when a lighter flickers inches from his face.
“Trade ya.” Chris drawls. Jared’s brain realizes every fiber in his being is too damn tired to argue. He accepts the light.
“What do you want?” Jared demands roughly. He taps the box again and cursing when he realizes he’s about to hand over his last one.
Chris leans against the ledge, cigarette pinned between his lips and hands cupped as he lights up. “Sandy’s upstairs waiting on ya. Showed up ‘bout ten minutes ago.”
Jared barks out a laugh. “You tell her where I was?”
“Nah, Jay.” Chris taps the ash off the end of the cigarette and smirks. “Thought you knew me better than that.”
“Yeah, me too.” Jared snaps, and yeah, okay, he wasn’t going to try to get in a fight tonight. But maybe, deep down, he really wants one regardless.
“Alright, man. Fucking seriously. Take a swing if you want. But don’t think if this shit fest was reversed I wouldn’t have knocked out Jensen.” Chris responds sharply, and Jared inhales a little too deep, and coughs out, tasting the nicotine.
“Don’t think you’d have to,” Jared admits sullenly, scrubbing at his stubble.
“You hard on yourself, know it?”
Jared chooses to stare at the barely full parking lot than acknowledge the statement.
“You should talk to him.” Chris states cautiously.
Jared snaps toward Chris, bloodshot eyes honing in on the man’s anticipating stare. “You’re on my side now?”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Always have been, Padalecki. You were just too amped up to see it.”
“Almost lost him already. Not gonna go through that again cause I’m-cause I’m...It’s my-my choice. Can’t make it his. That’s not fair to Jen.” The argument is one Jared’s reminded himself of everyday for almost two years. It should sound stronger by now-more right, something. It doesn’t.
“What ain’t fair is letting him think something that ain’t true,” Chris offers through clenched teeth, the cigarette stuck as his hands tuck his long hair behind his ears. “Last few weeks first. Then maybe…everything else you been burning over the long haul. Shit you told me.”
“It’s the maybe part I’m worried about.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
“You weren’t. You jus’ scared.”
“Wasn’t asking your opinion, Kane.”
XXXXXX
“Hey,” Sandy’s voice is sweet and gentle as she approaches, her hands brushing the growing stubble on Jared’s face. He lets her, leaning down and meeting her searching eyes. They are dimmed with hurt and something akin to sympathy. “How you been?”
Jared shrugs half-heartedly, and crouches down to sit on the bottom concrete step. He stretches his legs out on the floor landing, leaning back to rest on his elbows. The stairwell might not have been the best place for this conversation, but privacy is hard to come by in a hospital and typically, elevators win out when you’re five flights up. “Why are you here, San? Told you I don’t want this anymore. Take a fucking hint, okay?”
“Jay, I know you’re upset. And if you’d actually answer your phone some time this week you’d know I’m aware what I did was wrong, and I shouldn’t have forced sleep on you like that.” Sandy tugs her lowriders up and sits down next to Jared. “I was so worried. I still am. You can understand that. Can’t you?”
“How many times do we have to do this, Sandy?” Jared scratches his jaw line, grimacing at the sweaty strands of hair stuck to his neck. “I can’t-“
Sandy crosses her arms. “We’re not breaking up over sleeping pills, Jay. We’re both adults here, okay? That’s just ridiculous.”
“We’re not.” Jared’s not sure if that came out more as a statement or a question, but either way Sandy looks just as confused. Go figure.
“You’re stressed and exhausted,” Sandy comments and Jared rolls his eyes, because no shit Sherlock. “Jay, it was bad timing. I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t stopping. Hell, baby, you still aren’t.”
Jared bristles, straightening up with arms outstretched to the door. “How the fuck can I? Jensen-“
“Is getting better. Doc said he’s going to get out of here soon,” Sandy presses, her expression so open and caring Jared sort of feels like an ass for dreading coming up to see her.
“Doctor’s can be wrong,” Jared argues, and it’s taking every bit inside him not to crack on that admission. His arms drop into his lap bonelessly.
“Yeah,” Sandy nods, linking her arm under Jared’s. “Just because he was wrong earlier and had to find another way-Jay, that doesn’t mean, he’s wrong now. You know that. Think you also know Jensen would feel just awful knowing he’s the reason you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Jared bows his head, and he knows he should tell Sandy to take her hand away. But, he doesn’t. “I know you weren’t trying to screw me over. Just felt like it.”
Shit. Fuck. That’s not where he wants to go with this. He’s mad, dammit. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed at her. Well, kind of. He’s had time to think it over, and yeah, he gets it. Doesn’t like it, but he’s never really understood how she could always be so damn understanding when he was acting like the biggest asshole in the room. It’s part of why he loves-loved her.
“I’m worried you’re going to get a bed here yourself,” Sandy admits, and Jared can see the unshed tears in the corners of her eyes. “When’s the last time you ate something or actually slept, Jay?”
“I got a few last night.” Jared mutters, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets from Sandy. “Not really hungry.”
“Still doesn’t mean you don’t eat,” Sandy returns with a sigh. “It’s one thing to worry about what ifs. It’s another to let that overrun everything when things are looking up.”
“Can’t stop,” Jared feels his countenance crumble, and he turns away, leaning his head against the cool metal railing. “All I think about.”
“I know, baby,” Sandy edges closer, her fingers sliding up his back and neck to twirl Jared’s matted hair the she knows has always calmed and comforted him. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t keep doing this.” And it’s the god’s honest truth. He’s fucking exhausted. Bad coffee and crazed, out of check emotions, are doing nothing but confusing him more.
“I know,” Sandy repeats and inwardly, Jared cringes, because no, she doesn’t. His gut clenches when the thought hits him that maybe she doesn’t have to. He’s managed to hide this for years. His stomach tosses and his mouth grows sour when he realizes that maybe Kane’s right. Maybe he is just too scared to admit the truth.
XXXXXX
Author: 3rd_leg
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Always read the fine print, 'cause I thought for sure this time I had finally succeeded, but alas.
Summary: Jensen's making progress, Chris is trying to play both sides, Sandy's back, and Jared's breaking and confused.
A/N: My brain's been mush for a while. Please let me know if you feel I've lost my mind or that this was lackluster....
XXXX
Chris tugs on the curtains of the too small window. “What’s green, blue, and better than the ICU?”
Jensen bites his bottom lip in feigned consideration. “Steve’s new album?”
“Hell no,” Chris laughs, hopping over the recliner chair arm and landing heavily on the seat, boots resting on the edge of Jensen’s bed. “Dude can’t even decide on the play list for that thing.”
Jensen pushes himself up to a sit. Unleash the fan crowd, bitches. He can so do that on his own now. “Thought you vowed on a dozen Coronas to help with that.”
“That I did,” Chris agrees with a smirk. “’S why that boy’s back in L.A. as we speak. Got his ass to the grind. Lemme tell ya.”
Jensen chuckles, but grows somber so quickly Chris has whiplash. “Haven’t heard from Eric really. Just what Jared tells me. I mean, it’s not like him to not try to get in contact. Unless it’s bad. I still got a job, right? We’re still on? Wait, Jay would tell me if we weren’t. Right?”
Jensen knows he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Chris can take it. And yeah, usually Jared does, but Jensen’s not sure Jared’s running on all cylinders at the moment. He’s got enough on his plate with she-who-won’t-stop-calling.
“That’ll do, Jensen,” Chris cracks the knuckles on his left hand. “Speaking of Padalecki, how’s it going with you and Jay-man?”
“Been kinda, I dunno, different since I woke up. Think it’s just stress, you know?” Jensen can feel the redness on his cheeks and ducks his head. “But fine. Good. Fine.”
“Ah, now, c’mon. I was just asking. No strings I swear.” Chris raises his hands in mock surrender and smiles. And shit, Jensen knows that smile.
Jensen’s eyes widen, his mouth gaping wide enough to catch flies. “You told him? I’m-I’m…if you told him I’m gonna kill you, Kane.”
“I didn’t say nothing, Ackles.” Chris defends but doesn’t lose the shit-eating grin regardless of Jensen’s horrified expression. “He’s sans girl now. All I’m saying.”
“He doesn’t need that right now. I can’t…not now.” Jensen gapes, self-consciously eyeing his reflection in the metal paper towel dispenser. “’Sides, if I did tell him how I feel, I-I’d want to be somewhere…not here. And I’d wanna shave first and wear my own clothes.”
Chris smirks. “Gonna sweep him off his gargantuan feet, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jensen retorts, its firm but without heat. He figures he must be looking stressed because Chris goes from amused to serious pretty damn quick. That’s all Jensen needs for a go ahead to channel his anxiety. “They could still patch things up. That could happen. He loves her. I know he’s the one that called it but-”
“He tell you why?” Chris interjects, and Jensen shakes his head. “He’s gonna say its cause of one thing. Listen here, it ain’t. He may not wanna admit it. But it just ain’t.”
Jensen purses his lips, his head tilted as he processes the statement. “What are you guys not telling me?”
Boots slam against the shiny linoleum and Chris leans forward, elbows on knees. “Whatcha mean?”
“I mean, Doc told me I had bacterial meningitis and gave me a warning lecture for side effects. I got the gist of what happened from Dad. You know, how I got here. But that’s it. And don’t tell me there’s not something else.”
“Same shit different day, man.” Chris responds, his tone level and damn unaffected by Jensen’s frustration which ain’t helping Jensen’s anger any. “Give it time, alright? You need to keep getting better, not over do it ‘cause of random crap.”
“But-“
“I got enough blame coming my way. I ain’t gonna be the reason you scare everybody again.” Chris snaps, and fuck if it don’t sting when the words hit Jensen’s ears.
“How bad?” Jensen whispers to the hospital sheets.
Chris rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Watcha mean?”
“How bad did I scare…him?”
XXXXXX
“Dude, you suck!” Jared shrieks, hammering the controller as he tries to throw in a pass off the baseline. He’s down by one now thanks to another of Jensen’s offensive three-point strategy buckets.
“Can’t hit one for shit in reality, Jay,” Jensen laughs, struggling to see the position of his digital players on the small hospital TV. Of course, Jared’s hulky stance directly in front of the tiny screen also had something to do with it. “Man, fucking move!”
The tell-tale music and programmed ‘sweet play’ hit Jensen’s ears. He glares when Jared steps aside doing his victory party dance, leaving Jensen forced to watch the game’s replay of the totally cheating fast break dunk for the leading score.
“Dude, you’re killing me here!” Jensen whines through laughter. He knows his frustration is badly feigned, so he has no choice but to throw the controller for further emphasis. This is the most fun he’s had in a while, but letting Jared blatantly see he doesn’t mind losing to him? That’d earn Jensen’s torture for eternity. The smile on Jensen’s face reaches the point of aching before he realizes Jared has just…stopped.
Jensen scrambles for the controller and places the game on pause. Jared’s frozen mid-dance pose was something straight out of the ‘things to do at camera to make the crew laugh’ game they play in down time on set. Seriously, Jay’s scary good at it and Jensen pays the staff photographer a nice bonus every month for the proofs. So, see, he almost looks funny, and Jensen’s tempted to laugh until he sees past the body configuration and actually meets Jared’s unblinking stare.
“Jay?”
It’s soft and quiet. It had felt like anything louder than a whisper would spook Jared like a caged animal. But, Jensen was wrong. All it took was him gently murmuring Jared’s name to send the man bolting from the room.
XXXXXX
Jared curls in on himself, damn near fetal position and huddles his tall frame in the corner of the stairwell four flights above Jensen’s floor. His rapid breath and crushing sobs echo through the stone and metal space. He can’t make it stop and dammit, he’s been fucking trying for what seems like hours.
He swipes angrily at the tears pouring down his face. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out with a growl lodged in his throat. He ignores the call and pauses when the home screen reappears. Jared swallows thickly, his thumb directing the screen to display the calendar.
Jared tilts his head back against the wall, his neck stretched and jerking as he fights the tumultuous roller coaster of emotions he’s been on since day one. Day one of twenty seven.
He’s told himself every long, painful day that he’d be better once Jensen was. It’s day twenty-eight today. And Jared can’t for the life of him figure out why he’s losing his mind, and it’s all closing in.
XXXXXX
Jensen rounds the corner of the hallway and flails his arms in search of the railing. Physical therapy is a bitch and the constant tugging on the gait belt isn’t doing much to help his self-confidence with this whole walking thing. It’s downright humiliating people are seeing him like this. God forbid someone snap a picture. He’s becoming a hermit if even one god-forsaken fansite posts one.
Its better when Jared walks with him, short treks as they may be. He was really worried after the whole break up ordeal and the fleeing from the room snafu. The walks are definitely a ploy to keep tabs on Jay-man’s current state, and well other states of events during Jensen’s lost time. Although, Jensen certain Jared wasn’t being completely honest about having to give Eric a BJ to keep his sick friend hired, or that Jay’s fantasy team is currently in the lead.
Regardless of honesty, Jensen can see a hint of the spark returning in Jared, dull as it may be behind dark-circled eyes, thinning frame, and sunken shoulders. He and Jared have way more to discuss, but it secretly makes him all kinds of proud that he, Jensen Ackles, is the one that can bring Jared back to well, Jared. Bottom line, it feels normal, not sterile and awkward like everything else in this fucking place.
Rebecca, however, insists the hospital is paying her so Jensen’s just going to have to put up with her most days. But seriously, he’s had to deal with her three days straight and he’s officially bored with small talk and mini-pep squad routines when he fumbles for his footing.
“Just one more lap around the hall, and we’ll call it a day,” Rebecca chirps, her ponytail flicking back and forth with the bouncing of her head.
Jensen’s brain screams obscenities at her pleasure in regards to his torture. “Already did four!”
“And I’m proud of you for that,” Rebecca grins. Jensen growls.
By the time they make it halfway, Jensen’s breathless. No matter what Rebecca thinks, his slant to the right was so not an attempt to run her into the wall. More of a chair. Now. Seriously. Right the fuck now.
“Shit!” Jensen heaves, allowing Rebecca to steer him into the waiting room and into a chair. Jensen feels the blush on his face when the scattered strangers look his way.
“You’ve been in bed awhile. It’ll get easier the more you start using those muscles again.” The therapist encourages, the always plastered grin tapering off into a concerned frown. “Does it feel like your legs are going to give out on you, or is it more or a throbbing all over pain?”
“Both?” Jensen responds, his voice low.
“I’ll get a chair to take you back to the room then.” Rebecca states with a nod, and she’s vacated the room before Jensen can even start to argue.
He chooses to ignore the small dispersed crowd and their rapidly diverting stares and tugs at his hospital gown self-consciously. A loud, throaty laugh echoes down the hall, and Jensen feels his heart skip a beat, sweat rapidly dampening his palms. He tries to sit up straighter when footsteps draw nearer.
Jensen’s forehead scrunches as the laughter gets closer and he realizes that its more bellowing than gasping and definitely more deeper in comparison to Padalecki cackling. He leans back deflated when the unknown man, in a fit of chuckling, saunters past the waiting room entrance. Jensen sighs. He’s getting tired of falling asleep and waking up in this place just to miss Jared’s familiar company.
Jensen really doesn’t know when Jared became the one thing he looked forward to in the day, but he’s certain the Sasquatch is. He knows that should mean something, but he’s not sure Jared would think so.
XXXXXX
Jared watches the thin line of smoke puncture the air as he exhales. He twists the cigarette into the cement ledge and taps another one out of the box. He’s moderately startled when a lighter flickers inches from his face.
“Trade ya.” Chris drawls. Jared’s brain realizes every fiber in his being is too damn tired to argue. He accepts the light.
“What do you want?” Jared demands roughly. He taps the box again and cursing when he realizes he’s about to hand over his last one.
Chris leans against the ledge, cigarette pinned between his lips and hands cupped as he lights up. “Sandy’s upstairs waiting on ya. Showed up ‘bout ten minutes ago.”
Jared barks out a laugh. “You tell her where I was?”
“Nah, Jay.” Chris taps the ash off the end of the cigarette and smirks. “Thought you knew me better than that.”
“Yeah, me too.” Jared snaps, and yeah, okay, he wasn’t going to try to get in a fight tonight. But maybe, deep down, he really wants one regardless.
“Alright, man. Fucking seriously. Take a swing if you want. But don’t think if this shit fest was reversed I wouldn’t have knocked out Jensen.” Chris responds sharply, and Jared inhales a little too deep, and coughs out, tasting the nicotine.
“Don’t think you’d have to,” Jared admits sullenly, scrubbing at his stubble.
“You hard on yourself, know it?”
Jared chooses to stare at the barely full parking lot than acknowledge the statement.
“You should talk to him.” Chris states cautiously.
Jared snaps toward Chris, bloodshot eyes honing in on the man’s anticipating stare. “You’re on my side now?”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Always have been, Padalecki. You were just too amped up to see it.”
“Almost lost him already. Not gonna go through that again cause I’m-cause I’m...It’s my-my choice. Can’t make it his. That’s not fair to Jen.” The argument is one Jared’s reminded himself of everyday for almost two years. It should sound stronger by now-more right, something. It doesn’t.
“What ain’t fair is letting him think something that ain’t true,” Chris offers through clenched teeth, the cigarette stuck as his hands tuck his long hair behind his ears. “Last few weeks first. Then maybe…everything else you been burning over the long haul. Shit you told me.”
“It’s the maybe part I’m worried about.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
“You weren’t. You jus’ scared.”
“Wasn’t asking your opinion, Kane.”
XXXXXX
“Hey,” Sandy’s voice is sweet and gentle as she approaches, her hands brushing the growing stubble on Jared’s face. He lets her, leaning down and meeting her searching eyes. They are dimmed with hurt and something akin to sympathy. “How you been?”
Jared shrugs half-heartedly, and crouches down to sit on the bottom concrete step. He stretches his legs out on the floor landing, leaning back to rest on his elbows. The stairwell might not have been the best place for this conversation, but privacy is hard to come by in a hospital and typically, elevators win out when you’re five flights up. “Why are you here, San? Told you I don’t want this anymore. Take a fucking hint, okay?”
“Jay, I know you’re upset. And if you’d actually answer your phone some time this week you’d know I’m aware what I did was wrong, and I shouldn’t have forced sleep on you like that.” Sandy tugs her lowriders up and sits down next to Jared. “I was so worried. I still am. You can understand that. Can’t you?”
“How many times do we have to do this, Sandy?” Jared scratches his jaw line, grimacing at the sweaty strands of hair stuck to his neck. “I can’t-“
Sandy crosses her arms. “We’re not breaking up over sleeping pills, Jay. We’re both adults here, okay? That’s just ridiculous.”
“We’re not.” Jared’s not sure if that came out more as a statement or a question, but either way Sandy looks just as confused. Go figure.
“You’re stressed and exhausted,” Sandy comments and Jared rolls his eyes, because no shit Sherlock. “Jay, it was bad timing. I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t stopping. Hell, baby, you still aren’t.”
Jared bristles, straightening up with arms outstretched to the door. “How the fuck can I? Jensen-“
“Is getting better. Doc said he’s going to get out of here soon,” Sandy presses, her expression so open and caring Jared sort of feels like an ass for dreading coming up to see her.
“Doctor’s can be wrong,” Jared argues, and it’s taking every bit inside him not to crack on that admission. His arms drop into his lap bonelessly.
“Yeah,” Sandy nods, linking her arm under Jared’s. “Just because he was wrong earlier and had to find another way-Jay, that doesn’t mean, he’s wrong now. You know that. Think you also know Jensen would feel just awful knowing he’s the reason you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Jared bows his head, and he knows he should tell Sandy to take her hand away. But, he doesn’t. “I know you weren’t trying to screw me over. Just felt like it.”
Shit. Fuck. That’s not where he wants to go with this. He’s mad, dammit. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed at her. Well, kind of. He’s had time to think it over, and yeah, he gets it. Doesn’t like it, but he’s never really understood how she could always be so damn understanding when he was acting like the biggest asshole in the room. It’s part of why he loves-loved her.
“I’m worried you’re going to get a bed here yourself,” Sandy admits, and Jared can see the unshed tears in the corners of her eyes. “When’s the last time you ate something or actually slept, Jay?”
“I got a few last night.” Jared mutters, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets from Sandy. “Not really hungry.”
“Still doesn’t mean you don’t eat,” Sandy returns with a sigh. “It’s one thing to worry about what ifs. It’s another to let that overrun everything when things are looking up.”
“Can’t stop,” Jared feels his countenance crumble, and he turns away, leaning his head against the cool metal railing. “All I think about.”
“I know, baby,” Sandy edges closer, her fingers sliding up his back and neck to twirl Jared’s matted hair the she knows has always calmed and comforted him. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t keep doing this.” And it’s the god’s honest truth. He’s fucking exhausted. Bad coffee and crazed, out of check emotions, are doing nothing but confusing him more.
“I know,” Sandy repeats and inwardly, Jared cringes, because no, she doesn’t. His gut clenches when the thought hits him that maybe she doesn’t have to. He’s managed to hide this for years. His stomach tosses and his mouth grows sour when he realizes that maybe Kane’s right. Maybe he is just too scared to admit the truth.
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