J2 RPS: Isn't It a Pity
Title: Isn't It a Pity
Genre: RPS J2
Rating: R - bad word or two
Word count: 2,800
Summary: They're paid to act with each other. But they often forget to stop when it's just them.
Notes: I read these quotes (under cut) in an SPN wiki entry and thought it would be beautiful for angry!J2 fic.
He knows me. He's seen my acting more than any other person in this world because I'm acting with him constantly. And vice versa. I've seen him do hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of acting. - Jared
I can tell when he's faking a line and it's just something to be able to have that luxury to call each other out on it - to be able to keep each other accountable, essentially. - Jensen
So, the thing is: Jared’s pretty clueless. He has no idea when it was exactly that he figured out he was bi; it just sort of occurred to him that guys were good looking and the feel of strong, tight muscles against his own was pretty hot. He can’t remember when it was that he fell out of love with Sandy, but he’s pretty sure it was sometime after he realized he was bi. He’s uncertain about when he fell for his best friend; he thinks it was sometime before he realized he couldn’t be with Sandy anymore. And he’s even more unsure when exactly Jensen started liking him back, but it was definitely following his own realization.
Through those weird few years, he’d been pretty comfortable with the whole thing. He’s had some good rumble, tumble sex with guys who brought as much energy and power to sex that he does. Him and Sandy settled themselves well enough that if he runs into her, they’re okay - not good, and they don’t keep in touch, but he isn’t racked with piles of guilt for breaking off the engagement. And he got Jensen in the end. The guy who let Jared be Jared. The one who brings out the brightest smiles and deepest of dimple shows. The man who makes him squirm like no other in bed.
But what he is utterly clueless about is when or how he pissed Jensen off.
What Jared had done wasn’t wholly unforgivable. He and Genevieve had filmed so many scenes together and they’d gotten close. Not as close as everyone around them had thought, but they bonded over a few inside jokes on set and Jared kept paying her attention while he tried to hide the fact that he was likely thinking about when they’d get a break so he could go blow his boyfriend in his trailer.
Jensen had sort of understood the relationship. At least, he tried to and let the fact that Jared talked to her more than him (in public at least) not mean too much. But it showed at times, and Jensen knew that. People on set were saying that Jared and Jensen weren’t The Jared and Jensen Show anymore. Which was ironic, considering they spent every free not-on-set second together. Which almost seemed to make things worse. Because when they were ‘on,’ when they were in front of other people, Jensen had to put on his other face and act like it didn’t bother him.
But it did. He just tried to act like it didn’t.
*
Which is exactly what Jared does, too. A little too hesitant to rock the boat or pull back the curtain, whatever other stupid cliche he could use, he reasons in his head.
Over a late dinner, settled in front of the mammoth flat screen TV Jared had in his living room, they both concede to being cordial - without even agreeing upon it together; it just happens. Each guy takes a corner of the couch, Jensen’s legs up on the coffee table and Jared hunches over his plate, which rests at his knees. They eat in silence, watching the Monday Night Football feature and munching down on food.
Jared finishes first, as always, pushing his plate onto the table. He chances a quick compliment. “Hats off to the chef.”
“Mmhmm,” Jensen sounds while chewing his end of spaghetti.
“The meatballs are getting better.”
Jensen doesn’t say anything, but nods (supposedly) happily while keeping his eyes on the Cowboys’s defensive line obliterating Carolina’s offense and trying its best to take Delhomme down.
They don’t say much more. A few groans at bad plays, shouts at the good ones. Sometimes they trade high fives at scores, but it just stays still between them. This tense, thick fog of misunderstanding.
When the game’s over (more scorewise than timewise), Jensen rises with a creaky stretch. Jared reaches for their plates and nods, “I got it.”
“Yeah?”
Jared pauses just a second to realize that any other night, Jensen would be offering to help, or wouldn’t sound so hopeful that Jared would clean up. So Jared does his best to act like it's not different. “Yeah, man. You cook, I clean, right?”
Jensen chuckles low and raises an eyebrow on his way out the room.
The time for Jared to get dishes into the washer and wipe down all cooking surfaces is enough for him to really consider it all and he’s got ideas on what it could be, but it bothers him to no end that Jensen even knows about it. Or even that he's still having issue, after Jared's asked a few times in the last five days what was going on. Each time, Jensen replied ‘nah, it’s fine,’ or ‘what’re you talking about?’ and went about his business. But Jared knew. Jensen was a good actor, but not that good. Not in front of Jared. He knew.
It's even more troubling, balancing how awkward dinner was with very little talk, so much space between them, with Jensen being a bit predatory once Jared slipps under the blankets. Jensen is quick with his hand on Jared’s dick, mouth on Jared’s neck. Working so expertly and yet a little rough. It's the anger, Jared knows, and he doesn’t want to recognize it, or enjoy it. But Jensen knows all the buttons and hits every single one of them more than once. Pushing Jared over to his belly, taking so little time to open him up with fingers before nearly forcing himself into the small hole and driving him and Jared to quick orgasms.
Jared's breathing is fast in the dark quiet, and Jensen grins a little evilly when he kisses goodnight before burrowing under the covers again.
*
The pattern goes on. They move around each other cordially on set, eat quietly in front of the TV, and Jensen pushes himself onto then into Jared at night. As if the sex covers everything from the day, as if it wipes it clean and Jared should feel good about it. But even when he comes, even when Jensen comes with Jared’s name in his mouth, it doesn’t feel good. It feels ugly and dark and nothing like what he wants from his best friend, his lover.
Jared tries again to face it, but Jensen’s not having it. “I’m fine, whatever,” he mutters as they’re walking from the mess of trailers to the faux-cemetery.
“Yeah, real fine,” Jared grumbles in return.
“You fine?”
And there, Jared sees the accusing eyes, the flick of an eyebrow as if Jensen is daring to be told. Jared shakes his head and sighs. “This about Gen?”
Jensen barks a laugh and gives a (nearly) sarcastic “Right, okay” as he walks ahead of Jared.
If Jared didn’t know enough, if he hadn’t already spent four years acting with Jensen - and more importantly watching Jensen act his way out of the largest turf maze known to man - he would take the moment as it was intended to be. But he knows better.
*
Jared just goes for it. He’s tired of all the mess it’s creating at work - everyone tiptoeing and starting/spreading rumors about Jensen moving out and Jared and Genevieve in some clandestine, almost-engaged thing. The bitch of it is: it’s breaking Jensen’s trust, and he knows it, but he doesn’t think about that part. He’s thinking about breaking Jensen’s will so they can actually get through it. Yell and fight and figure this shit out to just get back to normal.
So nearly a month since Jensen first showed signs of the cold shoulder, Jared slips some vodka into Jensen’s cranberry juice. Not a terrible amount, but enough it’s there, and upon refill, he puts in a little more. They’d had a long day of shooting, have for the last few days, so Jared’s pretty sure it’ll be easy to ply Jensen open.
It eases him up so he reclines further into the couch cushions. So he’s even lazier in getting to bed. But it does nothing to open his mouth and get to the root of the problem.
Jared’s feeling guiltier for doing this than any possible reason behind Jensen’s problem (which is so wrong, Jared knows). Guilty enough that in the quiet of the bedroom, he admits with a huff. “Jen, I spiked your juice.”
Jensen chuckles, a little dark but not too angry. “That’s cool. I need the sleep.”
He turns his head on the pillow to look over. “You don’t care?”
“Whatever,” he grumbles as he turns to his side.
“You wanna know why?”
“Yeah. I know why.”
And there’s no more to talk about right there.
*
It’s the next morning that he gets what he wants - but then he realizes so quickly how it wasn’t quite what he wanted - when Jared hesitantly approaches Jensen’s trailer, having already been served with an extra side of silent treatment that morning as they readied at the house and then rode to set together.
Jared knocks on the door and waits for Jensen’s ‘yeah’ before entering. “Hey,” he tries casually enough. As if it isn’t weird. As if they aren’t.
“Yeah?” Jensen asks from the couch, barely looking away from the TV.
The questions are swimming through Jared’s head, swamped in his stomach and he’s working his mouth.
Jensen looks over and says oddly, “What’s with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
Jared flips to the harshness in Jensen’s voice. He sees the set of his jaw and the flat color of his eyes. “Alright. Whatever,” Jared huffs back as he turns away, wondering where the hell they go from here.
“You did it, didn’t you?”
Jared stops at the door, hand literally on the handle, just seconds from leaving that space and leaving Jensen alone. Jensen doesn’t say more so Jared turns and stares back. He’d like so much to ignore it, but he actually knows. It took nearly two weeks, but he's realized what it was and couldn’t ignore it anymore. “You finally ready to do this?”
“I’ve been waiting on you,” Jensen fires back.
He tosses a hand out. “Couldn’t tell me any time I asked you?”
“Waiting for you,” Jensen says slowly, and a bit angry, really.
“Next time you’re pissed and I ask you what’s wrong, you should fucking tell me. Quit lying about it.”
Jensen is quiet, shakes his head with a tiny smile. He slowly stands, sighs, and spreads his arms out. “Next time you fuck up, you should fucking tell me. Quit lying about that.”
Jared feels it, the tension finally snap at him and settle in his back. Because they’d both done it. They both hid and lied and acted their way around it all. He wants to argue against it, say he was drunk. Say it didn’t mean anything. Say it didn’t even happen. But he knows he can’t (or shouldn't, really), so he just sighs with a laugh. “Fine, yeah. It happened.”
Jensen gives his haughty laugh, the one Jared’s not used to having aimed at him. It usually comes when Jensen’s tired at work and can’t get over other people’s mistakes, or when a guest director is insistent on things that Jensen doesn’t feel right about. But never Jared. He lifts a hand and nods. “There you go.”
“So?”
“So?” Jensen shoots back, finally showing some real anger with his voice getting loud. “Just fucking so? You don’t have some great speech laid out about what it really was?”
Jared gets pissed and it shows in his voice, in the line of his shoulders. “You want me to argue it away? I can say whatever you want, Jen.” He spreads his arms out, shoulders pushing through the space between them. “What would you like me to say?”
“Well,” he sourly laughs. “A month ago, you could've come home and said ‘I screwed up, and I’m sorry, and I want to stick around anyway.”
Jared pauses, sensing how Jensen’s anger is shrinking, even though it’s still there. “Yeah. Well. I do.”
Jensen may be quiet, but he’s not done. He crabs back, “You fucking lied, Jared.”
“I just … shit.” Jared sighs, not even knowing what to say or feel. So cursed in the matter. He knows there’s no easy way out. “I didn’t lie,” he finally says, rather pathetically.
“Okay, worse. You acted like nothing happened.”
Jared shakes his head and looks to the side. He considers his options. He could walk out, not knowing what else to say without snowballing this argument. Or he could stand there and take it. Suddenly, door number three opens. “Yeah, well. You, too.”
Jensen stares him down, fire in his eyes, defiance in the set of his lips. They stay there, watching the other, breathing deep enough that nostrils nearly flare and it’s a bitter staring contest.
“You’re not perfect,” Jared finally says. He taps quick, sharp fingers into his chest. “I fucked up. But you’re messed up, too.”
As he’s making his way out of the trailer, Jensen feebly says, “You kissed her.”
Jared turns back, finally feeling the guilt and sadness crush his face. Seeing it in the droop of Jensen's eyes. His voice is quiet, but it’s also matter-of-fact, because he has no idea what else to do about it. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
*
They spend most of filming quiet, moving around each other as best they can and acting like they want to be there. It bleeds a little too closely for them both, and when they’re supposed to be emotional, it’s off the charts. Dean yelling at Sam, cursing him out for being so stupid, for not minding what he was doing. And Sam taking it because he knows he’s wrong. Jared knows they both are. He and Sam are a little too close sometimes.
He lets Jensen have this, lets Dean take it from Sam. Like they both deserve it, or at least that he wants Jensen to have it for Dean. It’s a double dose for Jensen, the guy who’s less bad in this relationship.
Jensen doesn’t watch him much, not as much as he normally does. He just floats around, his eyes scoring lines all around Jared’s head. He doesn’t say much beyond what they have to. Doing his best to be professional, to not let the realness leak through the alter ego. It works. To a point.
Before dinner break, they’re tying up a hotel scene, seated at double beds. Brothers across from each other, but at the moment, it’s lovers breaking - from the scene and each other.
Jensen doesn’t get up when they have a moment and somehow Jared doesn’t feel the need to move. “I thought you’d leave.”
Jared slowly looks to Jensen, who’s not looking at him. Doesn’t seem to be looking at anything really with blank eyes cast across the set. “I didn’t want to.”
“You wanted to ... do that.”
He knows they can’t say the right words for this conversation, there’s too much to shield from everyone else. “It was …” A mistake. Alcohol. Her. Jared has tabulated all the excuses he could serve, but he settles on, “Stupid.”
Jensen finally looks at him. The hard press of his cheek muscles clues Jared into the fact that he actually fucking cares right now. “You here? Or you everywhere?”
It’s in there; Jensen’s initial worries are there. That he was gay but Jared bi, and would that mean Jared always had the backdoor open? This is like Jared let a stray in through the doggie door and waited a little too long to let her back out. “No, I’m here,” Jared replies low, rough.
A short nod is the answer, though Jared’s not sure how good or long it will remain that way. Jensen falls back onto the bed, arms wide while he stares at the ceiling. "Shit," he mutters.
“You guys want ten?” Bob calls out from behind the camera.
Jensen pops up and is walking away from the beds as he rolls out, “Fucking beautiful.”
Jared’s up and following, but slowly, as if to not be so anxious. He’s still not sure where they stand. “Hey.” Jared jogs to catch up in the open lot. “We gonna be okay?”
He can see how Jensen’s trying to let it be. How hard it is; it's in his eyes. He finally says, “I don’t really think so.”
“But we’ll do this, yeah?”
Jensen shakes his head, looks away. But he’s saying, “Eventually. Yeah. Just time, ya know?”
Jared’s not even going to act like he’s okay with having to take the time. But he knows it’s better than not having any at all.
Genre: RPS J2
Rating: R - bad word or two
Word count: 2,800
Summary: They're paid to act with each other. But they often forget to stop when it's just them.
Notes: I read these quotes (under cut) in an SPN wiki entry and thought it would be beautiful for angry!J2 fic.
He knows me. He's seen my acting more than any other person in this world because I'm acting with him constantly. And vice versa. I've seen him do hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of acting. - Jared
I can tell when he's faking a line and it's just something to be able to have that luxury to call each other out on it - to be able to keep each other accountable, essentially. - Jensen
So, the thing is: Jared’s pretty clueless. He has no idea when it was exactly that he figured out he was bi; it just sort of occurred to him that guys were good looking and the feel of strong, tight muscles against his own was pretty hot. He can’t remember when it was that he fell out of love with Sandy, but he’s pretty sure it was sometime after he realized he was bi. He’s uncertain about when he fell for his best friend; he thinks it was sometime before he realized he couldn’t be with Sandy anymore. And he’s even more unsure when exactly Jensen started liking him back, but it was definitely following his own realization.
Through those weird few years, he’d been pretty comfortable with the whole thing. He’s had some good rumble, tumble sex with guys who brought as much energy and power to sex that he does. Him and Sandy settled themselves well enough that if he runs into her, they’re okay - not good, and they don’t keep in touch, but he isn’t racked with piles of guilt for breaking off the engagement. And he got Jensen in the end. The guy who let Jared be Jared. The one who brings out the brightest smiles and deepest of dimple shows. The man who makes him squirm like no other in bed.
But what he is utterly clueless about is when or how he pissed Jensen off.
What Jared had done wasn’t wholly unforgivable. He and Genevieve had filmed so many scenes together and they’d gotten close. Not as close as everyone around them had thought, but they bonded over a few inside jokes on set and Jared kept paying her attention while he tried to hide the fact that he was likely thinking about when they’d get a break so he could go blow his boyfriend in his trailer.
Jensen had sort of understood the relationship. At least, he tried to and let the fact that Jared talked to her more than him (in public at least) not mean too much. But it showed at times, and Jensen knew that. People on set were saying that Jared and Jensen weren’t The Jared and Jensen Show anymore. Which was ironic, considering they spent every free not-on-set second together. Which almost seemed to make things worse. Because when they were ‘on,’ when they were in front of other people, Jensen had to put on his other face and act like it didn’t bother him.
But it did. He just tried to act like it didn’t.
*
Which is exactly what Jared does, too. A little too hesitant to rock the boat or pull back the curtain, whatever other stupid cliche he could use, he reasons in his head.
Over a late dinner, settled in front of the mammoth flat screen TV Jared had in his living room, they both concede to being cordial - without even agreeing upon it together; it just happens. Each guy takes a corner of the couch, Jensen’s legs up on the coffee table and Jared hunches over his plate, which rests at his knees. They eat in silence, watching the Monday Night Football feature and munching down on food.
Jared finishes first, as always, pushing his plate onto the table. He chances a quick compliment. “Hats off to the chef.”
“Mmhmm,” Jensen sounds while chewing his end of spaghetti.
“The meatballs are getting better.”
Jensen doesn’t say anything, but nods (supposedly) happily while keeping his eyes on the Cowboys’s defensive line obliterating Carolina’s offense and trying its best to take Delhomme down.
They don’t say much more. A few groans at bad plays, shouts at the good ones. Sometimes they trade high fives at scores, but it just stays still between them. This tense, thick fog of misunderstanding.
When the game’s over (more scorewise than timewise), Jensen rises with a creaky stretch. Jared reaches for their plates and nods, “I got it.”
“Yeah?”
Jared pauses just a second to realize that any other night, Jensen would be offering to help, or wouldn’t sound so hopeful that Jared would clean up. So Jared does his best to act like it's not different. “Yeah, man. You cook, I clean, right?”
Jensen chuckles low and raises an eyebrow on his way out the room.
The time for Jared to get dishes into the washer and wipe down all cooking surfaces is enough for him to really consider it all and he’s got ideas on what it could be, but it bothers him to no end that Jensen even knows about it. Or even that he's still having issue, after Jared's asked a few times in the last five days what was going on. Each time, Jensen replied ‘nah, it’s fine,’ or ‘what’re you talking about?’ and went about his business. But Jared knew. Jensen was a good actor, but not that good. Not in front of Jared. He knew.
It's even more troubling, balancing how awkward dinner was with very little talk, so much space between them, with Jensen being a bit predatory once Jared slipps under the blankets. Jensen is quick with his hand on Jared’s dick, mouth on Jared’s neck. Working so expertly and yet a little rough. It's the anger, Jared knows, and he doesn’t want to recognize it, or enjoy it. But Jensen knows all the buttons and hits every single one of them more than once. Pushing Jared over to his belly, taking so little time to open him up with fingers before nearly forcing himself into the small hole and driving him and Jared to quick orgasms.
Jared's breathing is fast in the dark quiet, and Jensen grins a little evilly when he kisses goodnight before burrowing under the covers again.
*
The pattern goes on. They move around each other cordially on set, eat quietly in front of the TV, and Jensen pushes himself onto then into Jared at night. As if the sex covers everything from the day, as if it wipes it clean and Jared should feel good about it. But even when he comes, even when Jensen comes with Jared’s name in his mouth, it doesn’t feel good. It feels ugly and dark and nothing like what he wants from his best friend, his lover.
Jared tries again to face it, but Jensen’s not having it. “I’m fine, whatever,” he mutters as they’re walking from the mess of trailers to the faux-cemetery.
“Yeah, real fine,” Jared grumbles in return.
“You fine?”
And there, Jared sees the accusing eyes, the flick of an eyebrow as if Jensen is daring to be told. Jared shakes his head and sighs. “This about Gen?”
Jensen barks a laugh and gives a (nearly) sarcastic “Right, okay” as he walks ahead of Jared.
If Jared didn’t know enough, if he hadn’t already spent four years acting with Jensen - and more importantly watching Jensen act his way out of the largest turf maze known to man - he would take the moment as it was intended to be. But he knows better.
*
Jared just goes for it. He’s tired of all the mess it’s creating at work - everyone tiptoeing and starting/spreading rumors about Jensen moving out and Jared and Genevieve in some clandestine, almost-engaged thing. The bitch of it is: it’s breaking Jensen’s trust, and he knows it, but he doesn’t think about that part. He’s thinking about breaking Jensen’s will so they can actually get through it. Yell and fight and figure this shit out to just get back to normal.
So nearly a month since Jensen first showed signs of the cold shoulder, Jared slips some vodka into Jensen’s cranberry juice. Not a terrible amount, but enough it’s there, and upon refill, he puts in a little more. They’d had a long day of shooting, have for the last few days, so Jared’s pretty sure it’ll be easy to ply Jensen open.
It eases him up so he reclines further into the couch cushions. So he’s even lazier in getting to bed. But it does nothing to open his mouth and get to the root of the problem.
Jared’s feeling guiltier for doing this than any possible reason behind Jensen’s problem (which is so wrong, Jared knows). Guilty enough that in the quiet of the bedroom, he admits with a huff. “Jen, I spiked your juice.”
Jensen chuckles, a little dark but not too angry. “That’s cool. I need the sleep.”
He turns his head on the pillow to look over. “You don’t care?”
“Whatever,” he grumbles as he turns to his side.
“You wanna know why?”
“Yeah. I know why.”
And there’s no more to talk about right there.
*
It’s the next morning that he gets what he wants - but then he realizes so quickly how it wasn’t quite what he wanted - when Jared hesitantly approaches Jensen’s trailer, having already been served with an extra side of silent treatment that morning as they readied at the house and then rode to set together.
Jared knocks on the door and waits for Jensen’s ‘yeah’ before entering. “Hey,” he tries casually enough. As if it isn’t weird. As if they aren’t.
“Yeah?” Jensen asks from the couch, barely looking away from the TV.
The questions are swimming through Jared’s head, swamped in his stomach and he’s working his mouth.
Jensen looks over and says oddly, “What’s with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
Jared flips to the harshness in Jensen’s voice. He sees the set of his jaw and the flat color of his eyes. “Alright. Whatever,” Jared huffs back as he turns away, wondering where the hell they go from here.
“You did it, didn’t you?”
Jared stops at the door, hand literally on the handle, just seconds from leaving that space and leaving Jensen alone. Jensen doesn’t say more so Jared turns and stares back. He’d like so much to ignore it, but he actually knows. It took nearly two weeks, but he's realized what it was and couldn’t ignore it anymore. “You finally ready to do this?”
“I’ve been waiting on you,” Jensen fires back.
He tosses a hand out. “Couldn’t tell me any time I asked you?”
“Waiting for you,” Jensen says slowly, and a bit angry, really.
“Next time you’re pissed and I ask you what’s wrong, you should fucking tell me. Quit lying about it.”
Jensen is quiet, shakes his head with a tiny smile. He slowly stands, sighs, and spreads his arms out. “Next time you fuck up, you should fucking tell me. Quit lying about that.”
Jared feels it, the tension finally snap at him and settle in his back. Because they’d both done it. They both hid and lied and acted their way around it all. He wants to argue against it, say he was drunk. Say it didn’t mean anything. Say it didn’t even happen. But he knows he can’t (or shouldn't, really), so he just sighs with a laugh. “Fine, yeah. It happened.”
Jensen gives his haughty laugh, the one Jared’s not used to having aimed at him. It usually comes when Jensen’s tired at work and can’t get over other people’s mistakes, or when a guest director is insistent on things that Jensen doesn’t feel right about. But never Jared. He lifts a hand and nods. “There you go.”
“So?”
“So?” Jensen shoots back, finally showing some real anger with his voice getting loud. “Just fucking so? You don’t have some great speech laid out about what it really was?”
Jared gets pissed and it shows in his voice, in the line of his shoulders. “You want me to argue it away? I can say whatever you want, Jen.” He spreads his arms out, shoulders pushing through the space between them. “What would you like me to say?”
“Well,” he sourly laughs. “A month ago, you could've come home and said ‘I screwed up, and I’m sorry, and I want to stick around anyway.”
Jared pauses, sensing how Jensen’s anger is shrinking, even though it’s still there. “Yeah. Well. I do.”
Jensen may be quiet, but he’s not done. He crabs back, “You fucking lied, Jared.”
“I just … shit.” Jared sighs, not even knowing what to say or feel. So cursed in the matter. He knows there’s no easy way out. “I didn’t lie,” he finally says, rather pathetically.
“Okay, worse. You acted like nothing happened.”
Jared shakes his head and looks to the side. He considers his options. He could walk out, not knowing what else to say without snowballing this argument. Or he could stand there and take it. Suddenly, door number three opens. “Yeah, well. You, too.”
Jensen stares him down, fire in his eyes, defiance in the set of his lips. They stay there, watching the other, breathing deep enough that nostrils nearly flare and it’s a bitter staring contest.
“You’re not perfect,” Jared finally says. He taps quick, sharp fingers into his chest. “I fucked up. But you’re messed up, too.”
As he’s making his way out of the trailer, Jensen feebly says, “You kissed her.”
Jared turns back, finally feeling the guilt and sadness crush his face. Seeing it in the droop of Jensen's eyes. His voice is quiet, but it’s also matter-of-fact, because he has no idea what else to do about it. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
*
They spend most of filming quiet, moving around each other as best they can and acting like they want to be there. It bleeds a little too closely for them both, and when they’re supposed to be emotional, it’s off the charts. Dean yelling at Sam, cursing him out for being so stupid, for not minding what he was doing. And Sam taking it because he knows he’s wrong. Jared knows they both are. He and Sam are a little too close sometimes.
He lets Jensen have this, lets Dean take it from Sam. Like they both deserve it, or at least that he wants Jensen to have it for Dean. It’s a double dose for Jensen, the guy who’s less bad in this relationship.
Jensen doesn’t watch him much, not as much as he normally does. He just floats around, his eyes scoring lines all around Jared’s head. He doesn’t say much beyond what they have to. Doing his best to be professional, to not let the realness leak through the alter ego. It works. To a point.
Before dinner break, they’re tying up a hotel scene, seated at double beds. Brothers across from each other, but at the moment, it’s lovers breaking - from the scene and each other.
Jensen doesn’t get up when they have a moment and somehow Jared doesn’t feel the need to move. “I thought you’d leave.”
Jared slowly looks to Jensen, who’s not looking at him. Doesn’t seem to be looking at anything really with blank eyes cast across the set. “I didn’t want to.”
“You wanted to ... do that.”
He knows they can’t say the right words for this conversation, there’s too much to shield from everyone else. “It was …” A mistake. Alcohol. Her. Jared has tabulated all the excuses he could serve, but he settles on, “Stupid.”
Jensen finally looks at him. The hard press of his cheek muscles clues Jared into the fact that he actually fucking cares right now. “You here? Or you everywhere?”
It’s in there; Jensen’s initial worries are there. That he was gay but Jared bi, and would that mean Jared always had the backdoor open? This is like Jared let a stray in through the doggie door and waited a little too long to let her back out. “No, I’m here,” Jared replies low, rough.
A short nod is the answer, though Jared’s not sure how good or long it will remain that way. Jensen falls back onto the bed, arms wide while he stares at the ceiling. "Shit," he mutters.
“You guys want ten?” Bob calls out from behind the camera.
Jensen pops up and is walking away from the beds as he rolls out, “Fucking beautiful.”
Jared’s up and following, but slowly, as if to not be so anxious. He’s still not sure where they stand. “Hey.” Jared jogs to catch up in the open lot. “We gonna be okay?”
He can see how Jensen’s trying to let it be. How hard it is; it's in his eyes. He finally says, “I don’t really think so.”
“But we’ll do this, yeah?”
Jensen shakes his head, looks away. But he’s saying, “Eventually. Yeah. Just time, ya know?”
Jared’s not even going to act like he’s okay with having to take the time. But he knows it’s better than not having any at all.