NC-17 | Finding Out the Ways of This World | J2 (4/8)
Master Post
Twenty-eight
Hollywood is just another place i don't belong
He doesn’t use Jared’s number. Doesn’t lose it either. Though he spends an inordinate amount of time staring at it.
Brad catches him a few times, gives a questioning look.
Jensen can’t manager a proper response. “Voicemail. Someone back home,” works well the first time. He sticks to that.
*
Just one day on set and he’s bitter. He’s tense, cold, closed off. He’s reminded why he was happy to be done after three episodes. Because this is not what he wants.
He’s on camera in purposely cheap pants, garish tie, and a cardigan sweater. It completes the awkward feel of his teacher who knows the star’s parents. Gives the girl a hard time in school all for revenge on a poor childhood. The role is ridiculous and cliché; he loathes the whole thing.
Even more, he loathes hanging at the edge of the set with Brad shooting him small smiles. They say so many things Jensen refuses to acknowledge.
Ain’t this awesome? You’re doing great. It’s good to see you here.
He jumps when he can, smokes outside, pretends he has phone calls, anything to keep away from the train wreck.
When he gets back on the sound stage, they run lines and Miss Disney curls her upper lip. “You smell.”
“And you’re tiny,” he adds absently, not even realizing how serious she is.
“Are those cigarettes. Are you smoking? Is he smoking?” she asks, turning for confirmation from anyone who isn’t him.
Jensen looks around, tries to see if anyone will answer. They won’t, but they’re not happy. “I’m not smoking inside.”
She grumbles. “Don’t smoke at all. You reek. It’s harshing me.”
He looks around again, unable to believe this moment. “Harshing your what?”
“Harshing me,” she huffs. “Okay? Isn’t that enough?”
Pressing the back of his hand into his eye, he prays for it to rupture. That way, he can head to the ER, escape this mess, maybe find a new life on the way.
*
“I’m on Disney lock down,” Jensen announces to Steve and Chris, each flanking him at the bar.
“Well, it’s a good thing you gave up hookers.”
He glares at Steve, watches the guy drink beer without looking in his direction. Jensen elbows him when he smirks.
“What’s lock down entail?” Chris asks, shifting towards him. “That you stop bangin’ the help?”
In between drinking, he pushes at his forehead, wills away the tension not to mention the situation. “I would love to stop banging the help. It just makes it more miserable.” Once his beer is drained, he drops it to the bar and leans back. “They want me to sign off that I won’t smoke, won’t talk back, won’t be a second late for role call.”
“Shit job, man,” Steve says, but Chris reaches to smack his shoulder, with “Shut the fuck up.”
Chris turns to Jensen, considers him for a moment. “It’s a paying gig, right? Just take the check and happily walk your ass in and out until the next thing happens.”
“If there’s a next thing,” he grumbles and crosses his arms. Then he swallows and stares at the ceiling, wishing he’d made just one different decision weeks ago.
*
Shelly shows up. It’s the first time she’s been on a working set for Jensen since he can’t remember. Good news: They want a few more episodes. Jensen wants to run.
She’s controlled and easy, murmuring support to him, “Yes, I know, she’s a pain in the ass, just deal with it, get through it, we’ll get you something else,” while also tempering the show. Jensen sees her with a few producers and the star. He overhears a bit of, “Still wet behind the ears, but he’s quick to learn. He’s dedicated, you won’t find someone with his looks and hard ethics, trust me. When he’s comfortable, he’s great.”
Brad appears at his side and bumps shoulders. “What’s this?”
Jensen crosses his arms. “My agent.”
“Why?”
He turns back to the scene of Shelly working her magic. “Because? I don’t give a fuck.”
“I thought you signed the contract?”
With a shake of his head and a small snort, Jensen stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I did. Lotta good that did me. Crazy bitch is still looking at me like I’m stealing from her.”
Brad turns into him, close, awkwardly so for being in public, and his voice is low. “Jensen, you’re not making this any better. It’s Disney, not HBO. You gotta play nice and be respectful.”
Jensen takes in Brad’s long stare, knows he’s waiting for confirmation, but refuses to give it.
*
He meets Danneel at the pier. They walk with smoothies, stop at a quieter spot and hop onto the short brick wall separating beach from commerce.
“You should break up with him.”
“It’s a fucking job, Dan.”
“You don’t even like him,” she argues. Jensen looks over, and she softens a bit, adding, “I know you don’t. Not enough for this.”
“I hate the job more than him.” He tips his head with a troubled smile. “I like the paycheck more than him.”
Danneel shifts on the wall, folding her legs under and facing him. He won’t look at her. She pokes his knee with the edge of her sandal. “Maybe you should hate the job a little less and like him a little more.”
He laughs, sounds bitter. “Impossible.”
She hums while sipping at her straw, changing the subject on that sound. “I think I’m gonna nail this teen drama.”
“Do you want to?”
There’s a crooked shrug, and he knows the feeling.
Recognizing that while his entire world is about how fucking miserable he is, hers isn’t, and he actually needs her to remind him that not everyone is failing but they’re also not succeeding. He’s not the only one trying. The conversation holds him together for the moment.
He flicks the underside of her toe. “So what is it?”
“Some crap on a fourth-tier channel. But it could be something. It’s better than nothing.”
Jensen nods with an encouraging smile as he drinks. “You’re still positive. I’m shocked,” he jokes.
“You’re still jaded.” The words are tight but her smile is easy. Then it slips into something he hasn’t seen in a long time - totally, helplessly interested and sultry. “Oh, break that off why don’t ya?”
She’s staring just behind him, and he shifts quickly, nearly falling off the wall because it’s Jared. Shirtless. Jogging. Shining with sweat in a golden sun. Jensen spins right back with panic. “Fuck, that’s him.”
“Him, who? Introduce me!”
“The parties, the show … Jared.”
Her mouth drops on a murmured, “Aw, shit,” and her eyes follow Jared as he keeps running down the boardwalk. She flips her legs over and drops to cement lacking grace; it gets Jared’s attention.
He slows, tugs ear buds out, and smiles awkwardly. “You okay?”
“I’m great,” she beams. Then pointedly says, “Jensen, I’m gonna head out.”
Jensen barely sees her leave before he catches Jared looking confused, stalling before staring at him. They’re quiet, both swallowing. He can’t help gawking at Jared’s chest: full, sculpted, rising and falling with each labored breath. But then Jared tugs a shirt from the back of his shorts and pulls it over his head, covers himself up and gives Jensen an excuse to look away.
Jared moves closer and stuffs both ear buds into his pocket. He leans against the wall and gives a small, fake smile. “How ya been?”
“Okay. Filming,” Jensen says with a tiny, hopeful voice. “Busy when I’m not gettin’ in trouble.”
“That’s great, man.”
Jensen winces, because Jared says it like he means it. Even though Jensen never called and has yet to apologize for it.
“What is it?”
Another wince and he can’t bother with Jared’s reaction when he says, “That singer chick on Disney.”
There’s a short laugh then a nudge. “That’s great. Work is work, right?”
“Yeah.”
It’s quiet. While Jensen wishes Jared would leave, he so badly wants him to stay, wants him to not be noble like he was at that party, wants him to push his way into Jensen’s space. Force something for them; Jensen’s too scared to make the move.
Jared pats at the stones then shoves off. “I should keep on running. But take care.”
“I didn’t call.”
He stops walking, stares. “No, you didn’t.”
There are a million words swimming in his head, dying to break out and fix it. “I didn’t break up with Brad.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Jensen slides off the wall and presses his shoulders into it as he looks at Jared, hoping the guy gives him a chance. To talk and explain without judgment. “He kind of helped me with the job.”
“You don’t sound too excited about that,” Jared points out.
“I’m not. Wasn’t then either. But, I’ve been here so long.”
Jared inhales and steels his face as he shifts on his feet, fighting himself in the moment, unhappy with Jensen’s excuses. Jensen knows how that is; he’s already unhappy.
“Ten years and I finally get a shot on a show that’s not likely to get canceled.”
“No, yeah, I understand.” The rub of a thumb at his eyebrow shows how little he really does, and Jensen wants to slap him, then himself for this situation. “Gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, not liking it one bit. He clears his throat, tries to make the conversation count. “What’ve you been doing? Got anything moving for you?”
Jared bites his lip; it’s too much for Jensen to see and he looks away, trains his ears to the reply. “Yeah, a sitcom in Vancouver.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Real promising.”
“You’re doing comedy?” Jensen asks, but it comes out with a tinge of attitude. Instead of apologizing, he runs with it, jokes with it. “I dunno, man, kind of a stretch.”
“It’s got promise,” Jared argues, playfully. “I think it’s got legs. Maybe I do, too.”
“Of course. You’ll be great.” The words sit warm in his stomach because he’s pretty sure of it, hopes it’s true. No matter how little he wants to know of Jared leaving the country, he wants Jared to survive. He hasn’t been this hopeful since he first came out here.
Jared combs through his hair and rambles; it’s endearing. “It’s like Friends or Seinfeld, How I Met Your Mother. I dunno, it’s a mash-up or something. Just a bunch of friends trying to survive their twenties, you know? We’ll see what happens.”
Jensen aches with the want to do more than nod, but he can’t find the right way to make it happen.
In the discomfort of the silence, Jared leans forward but then swings a leg to step away. “But good luck, yeah? I’ll probably see ya around. Wanna hear good stories next time, alright?”
He grabs Jared’s wrist, impulsive and unsure, tugs him just a little. “When do you leave?”
Jared looks down on the hand and says, “Next week.”
Daring himself, Jensen slips his fingers into Jared’s palm. The tips burn when Jared squeezes back. “I could get you coffee, or a drink. Dinner. Something as congratulations.”
“You didn’t break up with him,” he says, sounding hollow.
“My mistake. Let me fix this.”
Jared turns his wrist, closes his hand over Jensen’s then jogs off.
Jensen turns away. Then distantly hears, “If you still got my number.”
He smiles.
*
Next week means Jared leaves in three days. Between the run-in at the pier and Jared’s flight, Jensen has two days dedicated to being on set.
He doesn’t even do anything but film two scenes, but he has to stay and be available per his contract addendum. The Princess eyes him with delight. Brad sighs, looks put-upon.
Jensen can’t care.
Both days, he daydreams of breaking up with Brad. Thinks out the words and the faces and the random touches to simplify it.
*
Brad approaches him, turned down, but firm. His voice drops like he’s imparting great wisdom.
Jensen realizes he is when the words, “changing directions” fall from his mouth. Further talk says the producers are halting Jensen’s storyline.
There’s a tiny corner of his brain that smiles, but the rest aches with knowing he’s been fired. Yet again, with no real explanation.
He storms off the set; Brad doesn’t follow, but he shows up at Jensen’s hours later.
“It’s not working,” Jensen immediately says, throwing clothes across the room. He can’t find his favorite button down, the one he needs to impress.
Brad snatches most of the pieces from the air and puts them on the bed, trying to keep things straight. “Jensen, it’s okay. There’ll be something else. I’ll talk to some people, see what’s open.”
He balls shirts in his fists. “No, I mean this. Us. I can’t do it.”
The head tilts and eyes zero in on him. “Oh, like that?”
Jensen flinches at the bitterness, but is more alarmed by how easily Brad seems to get it. To know how it all happened, why it did. He feels like dirt, or worse, packed clay beneath miles of dirt. He’s an asshole and used Brad to get ahead. And then he didn’t even do that.
“Alright, give it to me. It’s not me, it’s you? Let’s still be friends? Keep in touch?”
He rolls his eyes but then smiles when he finds the shirt. Black, crisp, snug. It’s the most expensive shirt he owns and it’s perfect. “Take your pick,” he mumbles while yanking his tee off and pulls the black one on.
“You’re a dick.”
Looking up from buttoning the shirt, he nods then goes right back to the shirt.
*
Jared looks tense when Jensen finds him. At the bar, fingers dragging through water rings, the guy is hunched down. The shoulders are rigid through his sweater and Jensen touches those first. He taps, then rubs gently as he sits next to him.
They share a smile, easy, comfortable, but still nervous.
Jensen tries to make it good, but there’s the nagging notion that Jared leaves tomorrow for real work and he is now unemployed.
When Jared asks how the show is, Jensen lies.
When he asks how long his character survives, he lies.
When they talk about anything else, he’s on point and laughing and pushing back with playful bickering. He loves it and feels more like himself than he has in a decade.
*
Jensen gets drunk. He blames it on not being able to decide how he truly feels. He’s jobless, again, but he’s hiding it. So he goes over the top, joy and smiles, elation. Honestly, he feels a bit of it, Jared drags it out of him, but overall, he’s forcing himself.
They stumble together from the bar, Jensen bumping into Jared. He does all he can to concentrate on the press of Jared at his side, the touch of hands trying to keep him upright, the ease of laughter.
“Shit, shit,” Jensen mumbles. “I remember promising you a sober kiss. Just one fucking sober kiss.”
“Not gonna happen right now, I can see that.”
He yanks Jared’s arm with him in the opposite direction. “Great dive a few blocks down. They have fucking amazing waffles. And hash browns. They’re crispy and salty and the grease oozes. God, I want some fucking grease.”
Jared stumbles with, but he leads Jensen to walk. “The air will do you good, too.”
The way Jensen turns and walks backward, jumpy and grinning, he figures he’s nearly skipping. But he doesn’t care, can’t, because Jared’s grinning right back. “Waffles as big as your head. And your head’s pretty big.”
“Hey!” Jared says on a short, insulted laugh. “Not exactly date talk. Inappropriate for sure.”
Jensen slows and watches Jared. “You think it’s a date?”
“No, I just, I was kidding. Nothing, you know -”
“Shut up, now,” he orders, reeling him in. They bump noses but their mouths come together, and Jared’s hands settle at Jensen’s waist. Fingers grip there and Jensen holds Jared’s wrists before moving his hands, twisting the middle of Jared’s sweater. He stops long enough to say, “Broke up with him.”
There’s a push of breath into the kiss, and Jared’s fingers dig in. Jared steps further from the curb, closer to nearby buildings. He pulls Jensen with him and mumbles, “When?” into Jensen’s mouth.
“Today.”
Jared stops, breathes deep, and slides away. He swallows and works hands through his hair. He lacks the excitement of their kiss, and Jensen feels cleared of the alcohol. It’s tense, crackling ugly between them.
“Jared,” he prompts, wanting to know what’s wrong. Hopes it isn’t as bad as he’s imagining.
Jared’s voice is strangled. “You broke up with him today? God. I leave tomorrow, and then what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we try something.”
“Like what?” he asks, disbelieving. “I’m finally getting a break and you can’t catch one. You’re pissed all the time over it.”
It stings with truth. Jensen scratches over his ear, his hair, his neck. He can’t figure out what the answer is here.
“And all you do is drink and bitch when you’re not lying about everything. Shit,” Jared huffs, turning away.
That digs deeper, and he can’t manage more than putting his hands into the air and walking away.
Jared catches up easily, rushing with those long legs. They fight for possession of Jensen’s hand, Jared looking for attention and Jensen wanting out of this embarrassment.
Jensen tugs hard, Jared lets go, and Jensen smacks himself in the face. Jared stops a chuckle then reaches for Jensen’s face, holding his jaw and looking at the immediate flush. High on his cheek and ringing around his eye, and Jensen can’t keep it open for long because it stings and keeps watering.
“You poked your own eye?”
“Shut up,” Jensen grumbles, looking away and ignoring Jared’s small smile. “If you weren’t tryin’ so hard to hold my hand …”
Jared thumbs over the skin, softens when Jensen flinches. “You’ll be fine. Just a scratch,” he murmurs while looking over him. He continues on just as quietly, “Hey, look, we’ve both done stupid shit. You more than me, but yeah.”
Jensen nearly rolls his eyes, but Jared’s smirking at him. He can’t help but return it.
*
Jensen eats, thankful for something to put in his mouth other than his foot. And he listens. Because Jared’s bad auditions are much more entertaining than his own. Those were pitiful and remind him of how long he’s been failing.
“I’m halfway through when they finally point out that I’m reading the wrong character.”
Jensen stops chewing and stares.
“Yeah, right?” Jared grins, unaffected. Like making mistakes in front of people who give you a career is no big deal. “Shawn was a girl, and Chris was the guy. I mean, the whole script was so ambiguous - which, you know, I kind of liked - but yeah. I obviously was in over my head.”
Jensen gulps a third of his water then smiles. “How long did you read for?”
“Oh God,” he sighs, suddenly nervous, embarrassed, all the things Jensen normally is. “It was a good, long monologue. Pretentious now that I think of it.”
They chuckle together and Jensen can’t stop looking at the shine of Jared’s smile, the light in his eyes, how open his face is. Jensen’s so used to seeing people closed off and protective, like anyone in the vicinity could steal a dream. But Jared’s the exact opposite. Especially when he pokes and prods, finally convincing Jensen to open up about the Disney show, to be honest.
“They had you sign,” he asks in shock. “Man, I’ve heard they’re tough on talent, but seriously?”
“She was a major bitch,” Jensen argues.
“I don’t doubt that. I’ve heard stories. But I can’t believe she got a contract on you.”
He bites into toast, chewing quickly so he can talk, but then he decides that while he wants to keep talking with Jared, he doesn’t want bitterness and anger. He swallows and admits just that. “I don’t wanna be a buzz kill, but I’m just gonna get angry if I keep talking about it right now.”
Jared watches him, tips his head. “It was that bad?”
With a shrug, he focuses on shoveling hash browns across the plate. “It just wasn’t that great. And it all happened this morning, so it’s fresh. Like the body’s still warm.”
There’s a chuckle and Jensen smiles, grateful Jared picks up on the small joke.
*
The food settles him, calms him. There’s still a tiny buzz kicking through his system, but it’s nowhere near what it was before.
On the way back to the bar to pick up cars, they’re still bantering, and it’s easy and friendly and thrills Jensen in a way he hasn’t known in a long time. Not since he thought he had a good job, Supernatural. He realizes he hasn’t felt this good since he first met Jared.
With that, he slows, stretches it out. And when they reach the parking lot, he slips a hand around Jared’s elbow, brings him close. “I think I owe you something.”
Jared’s about to ask, but he’s quieted when Jensen slides in and kisses.
It’s hesitant in a way he hadn’t thought of, but sweet, too, with slow mouths and careful tongues. They kiss on and on, tilting heads with soft hands at hips until Jared holds Jensen’s face. The fingers grace his jaw, his neck, like this is the most delicate thing Jared’s ever done. Jensen knows how that goes; he can barely touch Jared’s back without something surging just beneath the surface.
He wants to keep going, never stop, live in it for as long as humanly possible. He pulls back and looks at Jared to check him in this moment. Jared’s hardly smiling; if Jensen weren’t looking so hard, he likely wouldn’t see it. But Jared’s eyes are bright and dazed, fluttering closed as he leans in to kiss and start again.
*
The ride to his apartment is the longest he’s ever known. He spends most of it with his eyes plastered to the rear view mirror, making sure Jared’s following.
There’s fear under the exhilaration. Jared’s been working, regularly busy with some project or another. Nothing to put him up in lights, but it’s more than Jensen and he likely has a better place for them to end up at. Yet Jensen’s is closer, Chris and Steve have a gig, and they agreed with tiny smiles that it was more than enough.
Inside the bedroom, Jensen’s pushing clothes away, ones he’d tossed there in a panic of not finding the shirt he’s now wearing. Ones Brad had rearranged just before they split. It halts him; just hours ago, Brad was standing right there.
Jared seems nervous, tentative in the doorway, and it gets worse when Jensen stops and just looks at him. “What?” Jared asks.
Jensen drops his hands, shirts falling back to the bed. He rubs a hand over his face, a thumb over his chin. He’s such an asshole and he knows it. He’s been making crap decisions with the shitty hand that life’s dealt him since he got to L.A. He’s afraid this will be one more. To take Jared in this room and let him run off to Vancouver tomorrow.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
He snaps back to Jared and breathes deep, trying to push it all down but it just spills out. “You’re gonna punch me, I know it. But, it happened in here. Brad stood right there and I told him it was over, then put this shirt on and ran out to meet you.”
Jared watches him for a few moments, smiles a little. “It’s a really nice shirt.”
Jensen chuckles, and as he walks through the room, he nudges Jared to follow him.
The balcony has a shitty view of his rundown street. Neon lights glare for laundromats and liquor stores. Any other day, Jensen stands out here to smoke and drink and curse his entire existence. Right now, he breathes fresh air, watches it whip through Jared’s hair, and reaches out to touch. His fingers tuck strands behind Jared’s ear, and Jared smiles brilliantly; Jensen’s heart flares and pumps hard.
He pulls away and inhales, holds it, then asks, “You thirsty?”
“Sure. Whatever you’ve got.”
Jensen nods, heading inside. “Don’t look out for too long. I’d hate for you to envy the view,” he jokes to cover his nerves.
Jared laughs, calls back, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a great view.”
He leans out from the kitchen and Jared’s looking at him intently. It’s a short walk back out and he hands a bottle over with a tight smirk. “Shut up. You’re making me sick.”
They both lean on the railing and there’s a clash of elbows and quiet chuckles as they drink. Jensen turns his back to the street and watches Jared watch him. Jared puts his bottle down then moves towards Jensen. “Really is a great view,” he says with a tiny smile.
“You’re such a charmer,” Jensen says with a flat voice. “Go on.”
He laughs but gets even closer, taking Jensen’s beer from his hand and setting it next to his on a side table. He slides back in and the wind flicks his hair.
Jensen pushes it from Jared’s face. His hand holds carefully, fingers pressed into Jared’s neck as he pulls him close, noses his cheek. His guard - a stern wall he built brick by brick over the last eight years - starts to shake and crumble, dust slips down, he can feel it. “God,” he whispers at Jared’s lips.
“What?”
He nips at Jared’s mouth then shifts enough to take him in. His heart thuds and eyes nearly cross with the effort to see Jared’s face and eyes and lips and even that mole on his cheek that Jensen wants to touch. He smirks just a little at the thought, then says, “You’re gorgeous.” After a long breath, he looks right into Jared’s eyes. “It’s ridiculous, you know that? Since day one, but better.”
“And you’re not even drunk,” Jared says with a tiny twitch of his lips.
“Shut up,” he grumbles but he shuts Jared up with a kiss.
*
They make out for what feels like hours, Jensen doesn’t even bother checking. It’s slow and warm and gentle.
Whenever they break for air, they stand close, talk quietly, and joke together. Jared smiles and Jensen’s nerves tingle and he shivers a little each time.
He thrills with it, feels Jared slipping just under his skin, and in an instant he wants to be whoever it is that Jared sees in him. He wants to have this moment last a lifetime, doesn’t even care that he’s only touching Jared through two layers of cotton and Jared’s not bothering to push it either. Especially when they just kiss again and again and again.
It stops for good when the front door crashes open, smacking the wall behind it, and Chris and Steve tumble in. They move closer to the balcony, laughing and smiling, cracking jokes about Jensen having company and thin walls.
Jensen talks under his breath, cursing them. Jared rolls with it. “I could go for something to drink, water maybe? My throat’s getting a li’l dry,” Jared says with a smile.
“Okay, right,” he nods, moving back inside. He rubs over his mouth, trying to hide his smile from his roommates, and gets him and Jared a glass of water each.
Steve pushes at Jensen’s shoulder as he leaves the kitchen. Then he smirks and Jensen, again, buries a smile.
Jared’s on the couch and flips the TV on. The guys escape to their rooms, and Jensen only shoots a quick look to the closed doors before settling next to Jared. They sit close, touching from shoulder to knee, and it’s warm and comfortable.
*
In the morning, Jensen stretches on the couch and finds the sun shining in through the balcony. Then he realizes he’s alone. Less than a minute later, Jared comes from the bathroom and gives a small smile. “Hey, morning,” he murmurs with an awkward smile. “I was just about to head out.”
He shuffles to his feet. “Okay, yeah,” he says tightly, guard slipping back up. All they’d done was sleep on the couch, kissing to the point that Jensen’s stubble marked up Jared’s face, as is obvious right then. He smirks at that, but then stands and wipes palms over his stomach to calm his nerves. “I’ll walk you out.”
“No, it’s okay. You can go back to sleep.”
“I want to,” rushes out before Jensen stops it.
Jared watches him for a moment then dips his head with a smile and grabs his shoes off the floor by the coffee table. “Okay, alright.”
They amble down the tiny stairwell, Jensen behind Jared. Jensen wants to reach out and touch but he restrains himself. Jared’s leaving for who knows how many months. He can’t let himself get too deep.
Jared turns when he reaches the ground while Jensen’s still two steps up. He smiles, small and gentle, and puts his hands on the railings, pushing up and kissing. It’s just as gentle as his smile is, and Jensen kisses right back.
His chest tightens and he can’t control his hands slipping over Jared’s neck, one going into his hair. But then he stops kissing and touching and gives a short, nearly angry chuckle.
“What?” Jared asks, looking over Jensen’s face again and again.
“Just … my luck, you know?” he admits, though he steels his voice so there’s no real emotion to it. “Finally get to hang with you and you’re off today.”
“At least it happened, right? Gotta live in the moment.”
Jensen swallows and tries to not show his emotions, but he can’t stop watching Jared. Especially when he smiles and Jensen’s heart thumps hard.
“I’ll call you. Don’t know when, but I will.” Then Jared moves back in for a quick kiss, just a press of lips, affectionate and encouraging.
Jensen watches Jared walk away. He’s comforted when Jared flashes a quick smile over his shoulder. Then he’s in his car and driving off.
*
Jared doesn’t call for a month, though he does send a text here and there. Just casual comments that relate to conversations they’d had.
Remember the old guy with the appletini? Found his brother … just ordered a cosmo.
Your old Disney boss? Pre-empted for curling. Canada rules!
Jensen reels at the messages and listens to Jared’s voicemail on repeat.
*
The show takes off instantly. It’s quirky and never takes itself seriously. Its stars are outrageously beautiful, a few put Jared to shame.
Jensen can’t stop watching; he tapes all the episodes, replays them when Chris and Steve are out. He’s bordering on obsession when he mouths along with the dialogue and chuckles just before each punchline.
He’s proud of Jared, that’s for sure. Happy that he’s found himself some success. But there is still a part of his brain that houses a tiny dose of jealousy.
*
It takes weeks of playing voicemail tag, but the holidays are upon them and Jared talks about coming back to celebrate.
That’s when everything changes.
Jensen hasn’t had a paying acting job since Disney; he’s run through local bars, picking up bartending shifts here and there just to pay the rent; he mostly lives off rice and dollar tacos. He can’t be like this when Jared’s back in town.
He signs up with a temp agency and puts in a few days a week at random business. He mans reception, files paperwork in dusty warehouses, covers security desks. Whatever he can to make more than peanuts and feel like a member of the working class.
Jared spends a long weekend in L.A. but visits with family and friends on the far end of the city while Jensen waits for even one hour to see him.
He gets it on the last night. Jensen splurges on a nice leather coat, jeans, and shirt, and rents an SUV so he doesn’t have to coast through town with his beat-up sedan. They meet at a place in The Hills, a house party by one of Jared’s co-stars. They’re all celebrating the fact that the show’s a success, blasting the cast to stardom, and because they can.
*
For the first time since he’s been in L.A., Jensen isn’t embarrassed when he pulls up to valet. Before he gets out, he tugs the rental key chain off, then pops out of the car and tosses the key with a smug look. He cruises up the sidewalk and inside, eying the crowd in the front hall and how it stretches further into the house.
Jared’s on the back patio, feet from the pool where a dozen party kids are half-clothed and soaked, obviously wasted even though it’s not yet midnight. He has an arm around a tall, lanky blond, one Jensen recognizes from the show. There’s first a flash of worry at the scene then a tiny itch of nervousness at seeing stars, ones who are all over his TV and obtaining credibility and fame like he’s all-but begged for. But then it’s for Jared; he hasn’t seen him in nearly four months; he wonders how easy it really will be to hang out, to be near him and unable to touch or kiss or show any intention with so many people around.
As he nears, a few heads turn, smile, and eye him like he’s some hot shot. It warms him over to know they don’t look at him like some hanger-on, like he’s been for the last few years. Tonight, he’s dressed like them, fashioned of the same expensive cloth, and viewed to be as great as they are.
“Hey, there,” a girl murmurs with a sultry smile, and he just nods as he passes, ignoring the swipe of her hand over his back.
Then the blond turns, eyes him as he steps up to the group while the conversation continues on.
“Hi,” she says easily but Jensen can hear a tinge of annoyance.
He nods with a short hi then rubs a hand over his stomach and under his jacket. She tracks the movement then eyes him again.
“Hey!” Jared suddenly calls, nudging her out of the way. He draws Jensen into a hug, pats his back, and as he moves away, he gives a short, playful smack to his cheek. “How’re you doing?”
Jensen grins, can’t stop it, and then flushes with the rest of Jared’s crowd watching him. “I’m good, real good.” He nods at the group and smiles tightly. “Hey. I’m Jensen. Friend of Jared’s.”
They’re friendly enough, but turn into their own conversations and the blonde smirks at him. “So, you’re Jensen. That’s interesting.”
He scratches at his chest and looks around before glancing at Jared. “Yeah, how so?”
“I dunno … Jared said you were an actor and I hardly recognize you.”
“God, shut up,” Jared groans. “This is Katie. She’s the crazy bitch on the show.” Then he pushes his drink into Jensen’s hand before tugging on his other wrist. “Let’s find more to drink.”
He drags Jensen through the crowd, rambling on about Katie being a good friend on set, that she’s not really a bitch, but she’s sarcastic and goofy and well on her way to wasted, she’s to be ignored. Jensen chuckles and follows to the bar inside, down to the basement, out to the side garden.
Through their movements, the crowd shifts for Jared but eyes Jensen and he feels every inch of skin tighten, feels guarded and uneasy. It doesn’t let up once they’re outside, not even when he gulps half his drink.
He finishes it off and then grabs the second glass that he’d brought with, expecting to catch up with the party. As he sips, Jared’s quiet and looking around. He smiles at Jensen, calm and happy. “You look really good. Must be busy, huh?”
Jensen chuckles, thinking about how little he’s gone out lately. How he just sleeps and works his way through the day and barely even hits the bars anymore. He spends too much time in offices with a tie strangling him, or in his room with Jared on TV. “Something like that.”
“Any good jobs come up?”
He frowns and sighs. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
There’s a loud splash from the pool and plenty of hollering and happy screams. Music surges up and Jensen imagines the starlets and golden-tinged elite going crazy. Even though he spent the last two years trying to fit into these parties, he wants to be as far away as possible. Turning from Jared, he drinks then pushes that hand against his forehead. “I just … I’d rather anything else.”
“Hey, what’s up?” Jared asks, suddenly behind him, hand on his shoulder and coaxing him to turn around.
Jensen faces Jared, grabs his elbow, and breathes deep. “You wanna get outta here?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere?” he laughs awkwardly. “I got a truck, we can off-road down The Hills, cruise the beach, whatever.”
“Must be working well if you got yourself a truck,” Jared smiles.
He gulps with the knowledge of the rental key chain in his pocket, but then slowly smiles and leans into Jared. He kisses his jaw, a few inches up, and finally at his mouth, thankful that Jared’s so easily distracted.
*
They stop at the edge of a park a few miles from the party; it’s the first quiet, low-lit place they pass. Jared cracks a joke about how nice the truck is, that Jensen must be doing some real fine work to get this kind of money. Jensen shifts over the armrest and kisses him.
Their breathing is loud and hot as they kiss and hands roam. The second Jared’s hand slips over Jensen’s hip and tugs him closer, Jensen pulls back, chest heaving, and nods towards the backseat.
Jared laughs, but he follows, crawling back and helping Jensen to push the back bench seat up against the front seats. Jared crouches low and pulls his shirt up and Jensen can’t help but stare at the ripple of muscles as he moves. He still remembers the day on the pier with Jared shirtless and jogging, but this is entirely different. This time he can touch, and he reaches out, first with fingers then his mouth, licking and sucking at Jared’s chest up to his collarbone and finally his mouth. Every inch is salty and warm and Jared.
As they kiss, Jared tugs on Jensen’s jacket, and when that’s gone, he pulls the shirt off, too. Jared kisses along his shoulder, mouths at the skin leading back up to his neck, and Jensen reaches into Jared’s pants and flinches when Jared does. But then Jared rolls into Jensen’s hand and groans at the contact. Jensen squeezes, strokes, can’t get the pants down quick enough.
Jensen slips over him, sits across his lap and keeps kissing, grinding down as they both fumble with his belt and fly. Jared pulls him out and palms them together, and Jensen wants to cry out with the sensation. He groans, tipping his head back before hiding his face in Jared’s neck. He licks along the pulsing veins of his neck as Jared strokes them. Jared’s other hand is splayed across Jensen’s lower back, pulling him in closer as they slide together.
“Hey,” Jared murmurs, turning his head into Jensen. “Hey. Come here.” He’s kissing along the side of Jensen’s face, his ear, then reaches for Jensen’s face and bring him closer to mouth along his jaw, and pushes into Jensen’s lips, tongue warm and wet.
Jensen clenches his eyes tight and kisses with all he has, focusing only on Jared’s mouth and hand, working them closer, together.
Jared starts humming, tiny moans as his hand stutters and then he nearly bites at Jensen’s mouth. Jensen watches him come, mouth falling open and eyes dazed, and Jensen can’t help but revel at it.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jensen pants, grinding down hard. “Just like this.” He moves faster as his heart thuds in his chest and his mind can’t contain itself. Jensen wants so much right here, and Jared looking at him with hazy eyes is just the beginning.
Jared nips at Jensen’s mouth, whispering to get Jensen off, and it’s doing everything just right because Jared can barely string all the words together before Jensen comes, groaning into Jared’s mouth.
He moves to the side, face down and breathless. When Jared stretches with hands above his head, fingers barely touch Jensen’s hand, but Jensen reaches for them, tangling his hand with Jared’s.
*
Jensen waits out all of December for word of Jared’s Christmas plans. Jared goes to Texas, and Jensen thinks of going home, too. But pulls himself back when he worries of Jared’s response to such a thing. He doesn’t want to push himself onto Jared, wants to let Jared set the real pace, even when there really isn’t one at all.
His mother calls a week ahead of time to discuss costs of airfare then offers to split the ticket. He goes, but doesn’t tell Jared.
It’s a quiet, awkward holiday as he talks about his day job in an office and the family eyes him. He imagines their quiet judgment for his staying in L.A. this long and working nine to five.
His reprieve comes with two texts from Jared. On December 25th: Merry Christmas.
One week later: It’s midnight. I’d kiss you right now.
He replies: If only. Then he grins at Jared’s smiley face.
Part Five