Fic: The Ceiling Can't Hold Us (3/6)
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Back to Part 2
Nathan Fillion and Jared sat in their tall director's chairs, waiting to be called for their next shot. Jared thought about how people never realized that movie-making could be so boring at times; long waits while cameras and lights were adjusted, technical business attended to, the director talking with the assistant directors, and so forth. He yawned and pulled out his phone. Maybe a little Pokemon Go would while away the downtime.
"Hey, at least we aren't in the suits for now," Nathan said, glancing over and smiling at Jared. "Could've been in those during all this time."
"Oh God, hush your mouth," Jared retorted. "Yeah, could be worse." Having to wait around in the superhero suits was even more taxing--those things were hot and heavy. And made going to the bathroom an ordeal.
"So anything new on the job front for Jensen? It's been a bit of a dry spell for him, hasn't it?" Nathan blew out a breath and shook his head sympathetically. "God, I hate that. I always feel like I'm never going to work again. Like everyone's figured out what a poser I am."
Jared snickered. "You are a poser, Filly." Nathan punched him lightly in the arm. Jared chuckled, but then replied more seriously, "Not too much new, unfortunately. And yeah, it's really eating at him. He's getting pretty depressed about it. Even here, he's constantly reaching out to people, returning emails and shit." Jared shook his head. "I don't get why no one is snapping him up."
Nathan shrugged. "It's a crazy business. You just never know what people are thinking. Fuck, when I came off Firefly, the buzz was so big, you know? Everyone thought Fox was an idiot for screwing up the episodes and then canceling it so abruptly. But even with all the favorable commentary on Malcolm Reynolds, I sat around for a while, and yeah, it was not fun. Not even a little bit."
"Yeah, that's one way to put it." Jared's fingers drummed nervously on his thighs.
"Everything okay, big fella?" Nathan patted one of Jared's hands with his own. "C'mon, talk to Uncle Nate."
Jared sighed. "I'm a little worried, frankly. You know how Jensen can look all quiet and calm, right? But inside his head, he's running on a hamster wheel of anxiety. The last time things got bad for him was before we got back together, and well...he was drinking a lot back then. Like, a lot."
Nathan was looking at Jared very seriously now. Jared knew this man held anything Jared told him close to his chest; Nathan was like a big brother to him, and they'd shared some deep confidences before. Jared felt that if he couldn't turn to Nathan, he didn't know who he could. Nathan listened, and for all his jovial nature, he often had good advice, and no secrets ever left his lips.
"Jay, is he drinking now?" The laughter was gone, and the concern evident in Nathan's serious tone.
Jared shrugged. "Not like he did back then, but more than he normally does. He's really subtle about it. I'll see him with a drink, and then I realize at the end of the evening I've never seen his glass actually empty. He holds it real well too." He bit his lip. "Then, when we got back from Switzerland? I found a bunch of booze bottles--full and empty ones--in his bathroom drawer. It...it kinda scared me, him hiding it like that. Like all of a sudden, shit got real."
"You call him out on it? Bring it up at all?"
Jared shook his head. Before saying it out loud, it had all seemed surreal, a dark phantasm in his brain, some massive misunderstanding maybe. Now that the words were coming out, it solidified, took form. It was real, and it was fucking scary. "Not yet. I really just realized that it's happening. I don't want him to get defensive and try to really start hiding anything more. I haven't figured out about how to approach him."
Nathan nodded, sympathy clear in his eyes and voice. "That's a heavy load, my friend. I can only suggest that sooner is better than later. It's going to suck no matter what, so why drag it out?" He reached out and squeezed Jared's shoulder. "You need anything, I'm your guy, okay? Anything at all."
Jared's heart warmed. He knew those weren't empty words, but a promise. He could call Nathan at four in the morning, and Nathan would be there. "Thanks, man. Back at you."
Walking into their sprawling ranch house, Jared heaved a happy sigh. He'd been working all day on recording dialogue, saying the same lines over and over while standing in the recording booth and matching his words to his image on the screen. Location shooting had wrapped a couple of weeks ago, and after three months away, they had returned home. Now came the less exciting job of dialogue looping and reshooting any close-ups. Jared never cared for this phase, it was monotonous, but at least he was able to come home every night. That more than made up for the monotony.
The only fly in Jared's ointment of contentment was that Jensen still hadn't gotten cast in anything. As weeks had turned into long months crawling by, Jensen had gotten quieter and quieter. Jared could feel Jensen's tension growing silently, his nerves tightening like over-tuned guitar strings, ready to jangle and snap with another molecule of stress. Jensen tended toward anxiety anyway, always had, and having no nibbles on the employment front and too much empty free time--well, it was visibly starting to prey on him. Jared saw Jensen's jaw clenching, noticed how he ate less and pushed his food around more, watched as he headed to their in-house workout room to pound some weights and punch the bag until he was dripping with sweat.
Jared figured that must be where Jensen was now, because there was no response to Jared's hollered greeting. Dropping his messenger bag on the couch and kicking his shoes off, Jared headed over to the bar at the side of the living room, fixing himself a whiskey and ginger before heading out to the pool. He was looking forward to collapsing on a chaise and just chilling out for a little bit while Jensen finished his work-out.
Only there was Jensen at the pool already, clad in ombre orange swim trunks as he reclined on one of the several blue canvas chaises alongside the pool. Jared was surprised that he hadn't answered to Jared's hailing.
He went over to Jensen's chaise and kissed the top of his head. "Hey, baby. How are you?" Jared plopped into the chaise next to him. "How was your day? Hope it was less boring than mine."
Jensen's eyes were hidden behind large black sunglasses, but his full mouth curled up in a half-smile, half-smirk.
"Hey. My day was...scintillating." He paused to take a large sip from the Mason jar mug in his hand. "Very exciting. I made coffee, drank coffee, read my email." Another sip. "Then it was cocktail hour, so I am cocktailing."
Jared enjoyed a cold mouthful of his own drink. "Okay then. Any word from--"
A snort from Jensen interrupted him. "Yes, I got word. And the word was no. Not you. Not for this role." His mouth twisted into an ugly line on his handsome face. "Too old. Unless, of course, I'm too young. Too tall, too handsome, not handsome enough. Too funny, too serious, too Jensen." He scoffed. "Whatever."
Jared's heart gave a pang. He hated seeing Jensen going through this. Every actor had dry spells, had to learn to deal with the rejections. But Jensen was so talented, and gorgeous to boot; Jared wanted to call every casting agent or director who turned him down and ask what their problem was, or tell them to get their head out of their ass. They'd be lucky to have an actor of Jensen's caliber.
"Fuck them. They're missing out." Jared leaned over and clinked his drink against Jensen's mug. "Here's to the next one, the best one."
They both drank, Jensen deeply enough to finish his drink. "Yeah, fuck them. Or fuck me. Somebody's getting fucked." He put his mug down, empty now but for the rattling of ice, on a little round table between the chaises. "Hey, that sounds good. Let's fuck."
Jared gave a little laugh. "Let me chill a minute, okay? I still have Nightwing talking in my head. Then I am yours to command."
Jensen pushed off from his chaise, clambering awkwardly into Jared's lap and almost knocking his drink over. Jared hastily put it down and grabbed Jensen's waist to steady him.
"Fuck me, Jay." Jensen threw his sunglasses aside and kissed Jared sloppily, pushing his tongue inside Jared's mouth and groping at his crotch with one hand.
Jared was a little surprised at Jensen's aggressiveness. "Dude, hey, slow down a sec." Jensen ignored his words, kissing Jared again and trying to squeeze his dick. He pushed Jared down against the chaise, straddling him and grinding down.
"Come on, Jay. Wanna feel you. Wanna feel good." Another sloppy kiss, and Jared realized all he could taste was rum. While one of Jensen's hands continued its assault on Jared's dick, the other roamed over his chest, plucking at his nipples through his shirt. "Come on, big boy, let's go."
Dismay flooded Jared. Everything felt off about this; Jensen's uncoordinated pawing, his ignoring Jared's lack of response, and the heavy taste of alcohol. It all set Jared on edge. Sure, they'd had drunken fucks before, but only when it was both of them. This felt more like he'd stepped into bizarro world, one where he didn't know what to expect or how to react. He'd never felt so out of sync with Jensen, and Jensen's continued attentions only emphasized that disconnection.
Jared scooped up Jensen's roaming hands and kissed them, holding onto them as he spoke. "Baby, what's going on? This isn't like you." He managed to lever Jensen off his lap and onto the chaise, sitting side by side. "Have you--um, have you been drinking all afternoon?"
Jensen rolled his eyes. He sounded like a sulky teenager as he retorted, "Why, are you gonna ground me? Jesus, Jay, I'm a fucking grown-up, I can drink all day if I feel like it. And no, I didn't start until after lunch. So there."
Jared wrapped an arm around Jensen's shoulders. "Is this about not getting the part? I'm so sorry, it sucks when that happens. But--"
Jensen shrugged off Jared's arm, turning away on the chaise. "Don't say 'the next one' or any of that horseshit." He folded his arms over his chest, looking out over the pool. The water rippled in the sun, sparkling blue and cool, contrasting with the angry heat emanating from Jensen.
"Jen, I--"
"No! Jesus, Jared, you're so Mary Sunshine." Jensen moved back to his own chaise. "I can't get a fucking part for love nor money. Either they want a Zach Logan clone, or they want me in some fucking Sharknado crapfest, or to be part of some slutty group of pretty people who are all fucking around with each other. God, it took me so long to get past all that horseshit, and now I'm right back there." He shook his head, and Jared saw his eyes were wet. "All the work I've done. The fucking award. It's like none of it matters."
Words eluded Jared. He didn't want to try soothing Jensen with platitudes or meaningless assurances, that wasn't going to help. His husband was in pain, and Jared didn't know how to fix it. He hated how helpless he felt.
"I'm sorry. I don't have any idea why this is happening. You have so much to offer, Jen, you're so freaking talented. Just...you just have to hang on, because someone is going to look past Zach Logan and realize how much more you can do. I know it."
He saw the anger drain out of Jensen's body, leaving him slumping limply down on his chaise. Jensen brought a hand up and rubbed his face.
"I hope so, Jay. I hope so."
They sat for several silent moments, Jensen staring at the water and Jared watching Jensen, unsure of what action to take next. Finally he stood up and put a hand out. Jensen looked up at him, eyes searching his face before taking the proffered hand. Jared pulled him up gently and embraced him.
"I love you. It's not the answer to everything, I know. But it's there, and it's always going to be there. Just rest tonight, okay? We'll just take it as it comes." He loosened the embrace enough to look into Jensen's face, noting the tear tracks from the corner of those beautiful green eyes he loved so much. "We'll figure it out together."
Pulling Jensen's head back against his chest, Jared felt Jensen nodding. They stood there for a few minutes, holding each other quietly.
"Let's go inside," Jared whispered. "I want to show you how loved and amazing you are." He was answered by a hitch in Jensen's breathing. Loosening enough for them to turn and face forward, Jared guided Jensen into the house and upstairs.
Jensen thumbed his phone off and leaned back in his leather office chair, resting his head back on the padded headrest. He breathed in deeply, releasing in a long, slow exhalation. A weight unlatched itself from his mind, like a huge load he'd been dragging finally had broken free, left in the dust behind him.
At. Fucking. Last.
A show. A show that sounded really good. An ensemble cast, an interesting premise. He wouldn't be the lead, but that was fine. He'd be someone completely different from Zach Logan (may he rest in peace), someone really substantial, someone flawed, with interesting thoughts and intentions.
Yes.
He didn't know whether to run around the room in frantic excitement or collapse on the sofa in utter relief. After almost two years of doors shutting in his face, of only crappy or copycat roles being offered, here it was. This had been a span of time where he'd begun to doubt himself like he hadn't done since his post-Supernatural days. When he'd had to do his best on the soapy dramas--drama both onscreen and off-- of Paradise Lost and Shadowed Lives. Of the heavy drinking that slowly became his only way of coping with crappy roles, endless rejection, and above all the chronic pain of losing Jared.
Jensen chose collapsing as his option for the moment, rising from his chair just to transfer over and fall back onto the plump sofa in his office, scattering the teal and rust cushions. He reflected on his old battle with the bottle, back before he and Jared had reunited. He'd been spinning his wheels in his career back then too, just like this last year plus, and on top of that he'd also still been nursing the grief and pain of being alone, being without Jared. Yeah, he could say it now. He, Jensen Ackles, had become a drunk. He'd been drinking non-stop before he got Carry On, and it had gotten to the point that he'd have to dry out at the start of the first couple of seasons. Then the show had really taken off, and Jensen had realized it was too good a thing to sacrifice on the altar of alcohol. It had been an ugly time, but he'd managed to pull himself out of it. Then he'd reunited with Jared, and life had been filled with a whole new kind of happiness.
Jensen wasn't unaware of how much he'd been falling back into that bad habit lately--losing the struggle with using alcohol as a crutch day by day, bottle by bottle. His drinking had increased this last year, so much so that he knew Jared had to have noticed. Jensen's spidey sense tingled constantly with the feeling of an unobtrusive eye watching him. Jensen hated being watched like he was an errant teenager, but what he'd hated even more was how he'd created a situation where he needed to be watched.
Hated that crawling into a bottle had become so close to being a major life option again.
Jared finally confronted Jensen about it. He didn't come right out with a full-scale intervention; no roomful of their near and dear tearfully telling Jensen what he had to do before he damaged himself or worse. Jensen was grateful to be spared that dramatic scenario. What Jared did do was to simply tell Jensen that he knew. He'd found the bottles in the bathroom, then in other places around the house, and he'd put two and two together. Jared had been firm about needing to address it right now, but so loving and non-judgmental that Jensen's initial prickly defensiveness had quickly collapsed. Jensen wasn't so blind to his own sins that he didn't know Jared was telling him the truth. Instead of lashing out at Jared, Jensen had ended up collapsing into broken sobs, words tumbling through his gasping about how he felt like a loser, how he feared that his career was over, and how his greatest fear was that Jared would eventually leave him.
It had been a painful night, but a cathartic one. Like cleansing a festering wound, they'd drained the infection from Jensen's thoughts, bringing them out to be faced in the bright light of reality. Jensen had not spared himself in being honest. Jared had vowed that he was never leaving Jensen, ever.
They'd cleared out the bottle stash together, collecting them up and pitching them. Jared had offered rehab, but he felt it was Jensen's choice at this point. Jensen considered it, but chose instead to start therapy, seeing a therapist twice weekly. They also went away together for two weeks to a spa that focused on meditation, controlling stress, and healthy eating. Jared suggested it would give them some time to relax together, an opportunity to focus just on themselves and developing healthful habits. The health spa had helped both he and Jared to take a breath and adopt better habits for dealing with stress.
Jensen knew he'd been given a huge chance for a do-over, a cosmic re-structuring of his life to a healthier, stronger mode. He wasn't about to squander it. He'd already had a chance to do that way back when, and now he'd been blessed with a second chance. It was a pure gift, and he was grateful.
He liked his therapist. Dr. Pinton was a tall, blond man of Swedish descent, with a warm manner but firm words. Dr. Pinton balanced the necessary probing and questioning of Jensen's fallacies with a calm assurance; he believed Jensen could do this, and that gave Jensen faith in himself when he felt shaky and unsure. Dr. Pinton also felt that Jensen was stuck in a deep rut of depression, and recommended that he take an antidepressant for six to eight months to give a boost. Jensen was leery of using medication at first, worried that it meant he was too 'weak' to do it by himself. Jared gently pointed out that if Jensen was dealing with high blood pressure or some other physical condition, he'd take medication to get it under control, wouldn't he? Looking at it from that viewpoint, Jensen conceded the value of the idea, agreeing to try the medication for a few months and at least get over the hump. After a few weeks, he found he did feel better--not stuck in a loop of negative thoughts that chipped away at him day and night. He was able to enjoy the life he and Jared had again.
When they'd gotten back from the spa and Jensen was well-settled into his therapy and medication routine, he threw himself afresh into a new round of auditions. This time, though, he felt much stronger and more clear-headed. He was able to access his creativity in a way he'd been blocked from for a long time, without even realizing how stifled he had been from the alcohol and depression. He felt more in touch with the characters he was trying out for, and that his auditions were a lot stronger as a result, his performances clearer and more inspired. His energy was back up, and he felt more like the himself he remembered.
And now, someone had said yes.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
An overpowering need to see Jared swept through Jensen. The need to tell Jared he'd been right, all along he'd been right, and Jensen owed him everything. Jared had been right about the right role coming along, about someone seeing that Jensen could do it, how he really did have the chops. And that Jensen was still sane and sober enough to even take the role? Well...that was all due to Jared.
Jensen was still lying frozen on the couch, his mind swirling with thoughts. When he reached the thought about how he owed everything to Jared, he felt a surge of energy and broke free from his stasis. He headed for the door, grabbing his keys and almost running to his car. This was not news to be delivered over the phone. This was arrive-in-person, scream-the-news and jump-into-Jared's-arms news. Thank God Nightwing 4, Wings Over Gotham, was shooting on the old Bond lot.
"Yes!" Jensen shouted at the sky as he threw open the car door. "Yeah, motherfuckers!"
Jensen would be on The Explorers, a historical drama replete with adventure, bloodshed, and skin. Netflix ordered a single season of eight episodes, but with the promise of more if the viewership warranted it. The focus of the first season: the Pre-Columbian Irish and Welsh explorers who had sailed to America. If a second season ended up being ordered, the ever-sexy Vikings would be on deck. The Explorers was gritty, bloody history all wrapped up with handsome young men and curvaceous women in a sexy, dramatic package.
Jensen was cast as Brychan, an uncle and advisor to the young Irishman hero spearheading the exploration idea. While not the lead, which was fine by Jensen, he had plenty of meaty scenes and screen time, including some sexy scenes with various nubile men and women. It was hard work, a lot of hours, and Jensen absolutely reveled in it. It felt so fucking good to sink his teeth into such a complex character, and to be involved with a show that spared no expense to bring the era to life.
Since Jensen was working so many hours on his new show, Jared decided to take a break between his Nightwings 3 and 4 films, instead of squeezing in a quick movie role as he often had in the past. The Explorers had a lot of shooting scheduled for the rocky coasts of Ireland and Nova Scotia, so it was Jared's turn to accompany Jensen on his location trips. It was no hardship; the locations were spectacular, and Jared always enjoyed watching Jensen work. Observing him bringing this savage, canny man from another era to life was particularly fascinating.
The only days Jared skipped being on set were when Jensen had a sex scene to shoot. While both Jared and Jensen understood full well how un-sexy it really was to film those scenes, what with lights and cameras and so on, nonetheless there was an awkwardness about watching one's spouse as he ripped the furs off a buxom wench or studly man, simulating oral sex or intercourse with only a sock to preserve his dignity.
Watching those scenes later was a different story, Jared decided, when they were back home and watching the episodes as they aired. He sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the television. 'Brychan' had just beheaded some rebellious prisoner, and now was about to celebrate his latest battle victory at a big feast. He and his men were in a huge wooden hall, with an enormous fire at one end. They were feasting on freshly roasted meat and drinking great flagons of mead. Many of the men had a woman by their side, or on their lap, kissing and fondling them while they drank and laughed. Brychan had a pretty redhead young woman sitting sideways on his thighs, and he squeezed her breasts as he swilled more liquor.
"I find you very...attractive," he said to her, his voice deep and husky with desire. He put his cup down and drew her face to his, kissing her passionately.
"M'lord..." she replied meekly. "I would happily serve you tonight, if you wish."
He kissed her again, pushing the shoulder of her linen gown down and exposing her full, firm breast. He squeezed it again, giving the nipple a pinch with his fingers. She cried out and wriggled on his lap.
"I do wish." He tugged the other shoulder of her gown down, pinning her arms with the fabric. Her bosom jiggled as she moaned under his caresses.
"The fuck are you watching this for?" Jensen asked when he walked into the room. "Jesus, Jay." He laughed as he gave Jared a gentle smack on the back of his head.
"Just wanted to see this part. Damn, you're one hot Irishman!" Jared whistled. "How did Liz handle it? You're pretty uh, hands on there." He stuck his tongue out and wiggled his fingers at Jensen, who sat down next to him.
"Well, sure, it's difficult to not get aroused when someone's doing shit to you. But there's so many people around, you know how it is. She's busy thinking if her head is at the right angle, and is she moaning too loud or not loud enough. I'm trying to not slobber on her, and besides, boobs don't do anything for me."
"I know. Still, she's wiggling on your lap. Hard not to get hard." Jared snickered.
Jensen blushed, making Jared snicker again. "Happily, with my loose pants and that tunic, no one can tell. I can't help it sometimes, friction is friction. You know that."
"I know. But I'll tell you want, fake as I know this is? It's damn hot to watch! You are one hunka hunka burning love, my man." Jared tugged Jensen over and kissed him, demanding entrance. Jensen immediately acceded, kissing back just as hotly while his hand wandered down to Jared's crotch.
"Shit, Jay, you really got turned on watching that!" Jensen snickered when he found Jared's erection, rubbing the ridge in his shorts. "Was it my manliness? Her bouncy tits? Which I do have to admit are pretty nice, as tits go. Maybe it's my rustic lovemaking skills?"
"Mmmm, all of the above. I'm glad they cut the scene there though, I didn't need to see you pumping away behind her. Although I like to imagine that...watching you fuck someone..." He groaned under a squeeze of Jensen's hand. "Now all I want is for you to fuck me."
"Oh yeah?" Jensen growled in Jared's ear. "Want me to do that manly rending of garments to you? Strip you bare and take you rough, like Brychan would do?" He bit Jared's neck lightly.
"Yeah," Jared retorted, his voice deeper. "Maybe I do. Maybe instead of a maiden to celebrate your warrior victories, you're seducing one of the defeated warriors instead." He turned his head and kissed Jensen. "Ravage me, my lord."
Jensen growled again, grabbing Jared's t-shirt and pulling it off. Flinging it aside, he pushed Jared down on the couch, kissing him hard.
"Oh my lord, you are so strong, such a warrior. I fear my virtue will be unable to withstand your angry cock," Jared protested, pretending to push Jensen away but really pulling him closer. "Whatever shall I do?"
"You'll welcome me between your supple thighs, and into your sweet, tender hole." Jensen spoke in Brychan's rough voice, one hand reaching to pull Jared's dick out. "You protest, but your rod speaks differently. I promise you shall not go unsatisfied tonight."
Jared started to say something snarky in response, but then Jensen twisted his hand on Jared's cock and bit his neck. "Oh shit...fuck me!" Jared gasped, and managed a final "I mean take me, fuck me, my conqueror!"
"Damn right I'm gonna fuck you." Jensen shoved his own pants down, freeing his flushed cock and rubbing its swollen head against Jared's dick. Their pre-come mixed in a slippery smear, and any further words were forgotten in throaty moans and the slap of flesh against flesh.
On to Part 4
Back to Part 2
Nathan Fillion and Jared sat in their tall director's chairs, waiting to be called for their next shot. Jared thought about how people never realized that movie-making could be so boring at times; long waits while cameras and lights were adjusted, technical business attended to, the director talking with the assistant directors, and so forth. He yawned and pulled out his phone. Maybe a little Pokemon Go would while away the downtime.
"Hey, at least we aren't in the suits for now," Nathan said, glancing over and smiling at Jared. "Could've been in those during all this time."
"Oh God, hush your mouth," Jared retorted. "Yeah, could be worse." Having to wait around in the superhero suits was even more taxing--those things were hot and heavy. And made going to the bathroom an ordeal.
"So anything new on the job front for Jensen? It's been a bit of a dry spell for him, hasn't it?" Nathan blew out a breath and shook his head sympathetically. "God, I hate that. I always feel like I'm never going to work again. Like everyone's figured out what a poser I am."
Jared snickered. "You are a poser, Filly." Nathan punched him lightly in the arm. Jared chuckled, but then replied more seriously, "Not too much new, unfortunately. And yeah, it's really eating at him. He's getting pretty depressed about it. Even here, he's constantly reaching out to people, returning emails and shit." Jared shook his head. "I don't get why no one is snapping him up."
Nathan shrugged. "It's a crazy business. You just never know what people are thinking. Fuck, when I came off Firefly, the buzz was so big, you know? Everyone thought Fox was an idiot for screwing up the episodes and then canceling it so abruptly. But even with all the favorable commentary on Malcolm Reynolds, I sat around for a while, and yeah, it was not fun. Not even a little bit."
"Yeah, that's one way to put it." Jared's fingers drummed nervously on his thighs.
"Everything okay, big fella?" Nathan patted one of Jared's hands with his own. "C'mon, talk to Uncle Nate."
Jared sighed. "I'm a little worried, frankly. You know how Jensen can look all quiet and calm, right? But inside his head, he's running on a hamster wheel of anxiety. The last time things got bad for him was before we got back together, and well...he was drinking a lot back then. Like, a lot."
Nathan was looking at Jared very seriously now. Jared knew this man held anything Jared told him close to his chest; Nathan was like a big brother to him, and they'd shared some deep confidences before. Jared felt that if he couldn't turn to Nathan, he didn't know who he could. Nathan listened, and for all his jovial nature, he often had good advice, and no secrets ever left his lips.
"Jay, is he drinking now?" The laughter was gone, and the concern evident in Nathan's serious tone.
Jared shrugged. "Not like he did back then, but more than he normally does. He's really subtle about it. I'll see him with a drink, and then I realize at the end of the evening I've never seen his glass actually empty. He holds it real well too." He bit his lip. "Then, when we got back from Switzerland? I found a bunch of booze bottles--full and empty ones--in his bathroom drawer. It...it kinda scared me, him hiding it like that. Like all of a sudden, shit got real."
"You call him out on it? Bring it up at all?"
Jared shook his head. Before saying it out loud, it had all seemed surreal, a dark phantasm in his brain, some massive misunderstanding maybe. Now that the words were coming out, it solidified, took form. It was real, and it was fucking scary. "Not yet. I really just realized that it's happening. I don't want him to get defensive and try to really start hiding anything more. I haven't figured out about how to approach him."
Nathan nodded, sympathy clear in his eyes and voice. "That's a heavy load, my friend. I can only suggest that sooner is better than later. It's going to suck no matter what, so why drag it out?" He reached out and squeezed Jared's shoulder. "You need anything, I'm your guy, okay? Anything at all."
Jared's heart warmed. He knew those weren't empty words, but a promise. He could call Nathan at four in the morning, and Nathan would be there. "Thanks, man. Back at you."
Walking into their sprawling ranch house, Jared heaved a happy sigh. He'd been working all day on recording dialogue, saying the same lines over and over while standing in the recording booth and matching his words to his image on the screen. Location shooting had wrapped a couple of weeks ago, and after three months away, they had returned home. Now came the less exciting job of dialogue looping and reshooting any close-ups. Jared never cared for this phase, it was monotonous, but at least he was able to come home every night. That more than made up for the monotony.
The only fly in Jared's ointment of contentment was that Jensen still hadn't gotten cast in anything. As weeks had turned into long months crawling by, Jensen had gotten quieter and quieter. Jared could feel Jensen's tension growing silently, his nerves tightening like over-tuned guitar strings, ready to jangle and snap with another molecule of stress. Jensen tended toward anxiety anyway, always had, and having no nibbles on the employment front and too much empty free time--well, it was visibly starting to prey on him. Jared saw Jensen's jaw clenching, noticed how he ate less and pushed his food around more, watched as he headed to their in-house workout room to pound some weights and punch the bag until he was dripping with sweat.
Jared figured that must be where Jensen was now, because there was no response to Jared's hollered greeting. Dropping his messenger bag on the couch and kicking his shoes off, Jared headed over to the bar at the side of the living room, fixing himself a whiskey and ginger before heading out to the pool. He was looking forward to collapsing on a chaise and just chilling out for a little bit while Jensen finished his work-out.
Only there was Jensen at the pool already, clad in ombre orange swim trunks as he reclined on one of the several blue canvas chaises alongside the pool. Jared was surprised that he hadn't answered to Jared's hailing.
He went over to Jensen's chaise and kissed the top of his head. "Hey, baby. How are you?" Jared plopped into the chaise next to him. "How was your day? Hope it was less boring than mine."
Jensen's eyes were hidden behind large black sunglasses, but his full mouth curled up in a half-smile, half-smirk.
"Hey. My day was...scintillating." He paused to take a large sip from the Mason jar mug in his hand. "Very exciting. I made coffee, drank coffee, read my email." Another sip. "Then it was cocktail hour, so I am cocktailing."
Jared enjoyed a cold mouthful of his own drink. "Okay then. Any word from--"
A snort from Jensen interrupted him. "Yes, I got word. And the word was no. Not you. Not for this role." His mouth twisted into an ugly line on his handsome face. "Too old. Unless, of course, I'm too young. Too tall, too handsome, not handsome enough. Too funny, too serious, too Jensen." He scoffed. "Whatever."
Jared's heart gave a pang. He hated seeing Jensen going through this. Every actor had dry spells, had to learn to deal with the rejections. But Jensen was so talented, and gorgeous to boot; Jared wanted to call every casting agent or director who turned him down and ask what their problem was, or tell them to get their head out of their ass. They'd be lucky to have an actor of Jensen's caliber.
"Fuck them. They're missing out." Jared leaned over and clinked his drink against Jensen's mug. "Here's to the next one, the best one."
They both drank, Jensen deeply enough to finish his drink. "Yeah, fuck them. Or fuck me. Somebody's getting fucked." He put his mug down, empty now but for the rattling of ice, on a little round table between the chaises. "Hey, that sounds good. Let's fuck."
Jared gave a little laugh. "Let me chill a minute, okay? I still have Nightwing talking in my head. Then I am yours to command."
Jensen pushed off from his chaise, clambering awkwardly into Jared's lap and almost knocking his drink over. Jared hastily put it down and grabbed Jensen's waist to steady him.
"Fuck me, Jay." Jensen threw his sunglasses aside and kissed Jared sloppily, pushing his tongue inside Jared's mouth and groping at his crotch with one hand.
Jared was a little surprised at Jensen's aggressiveness. "Dude, hey, slow down a sec." Jensen ignored his words, kissing Jared again and trying to squeeze his dick. He pushed Jared down against the chaise, straddling him and grinding down.
"Come on, Jay. Wanna feel you. Wanna feel good." Another sloppy kiss, and Jared realized all he could taste was rum. While one of Jensen's hands continued its assault on Jared's dick, the other roamed over his chest, plucking at his nipples through his shirt. "Come on, big boy, let's go."
Dismay flooded Jared. Everything felt off about this; Jensen's uncoordinated pawing, his ignoring Jared's lack of response, and the heavy taste of alcohol. It all set Jared on edge. Sure, they'd had drunken fucks before, but only when it was both of them. This felt more like he'd stepped into bizarro world, one where he didn't know what to expect or how to react. He'd never felt so out of sync with Jensen, and Jensen's continued attentions only emphasized that disconnection.
Jared scooped up Jensen's roaming hands and kissed them, holding onto them as he spoke. "Baby, what's going on? This isn't like you." He managed to lever Jensen off his lap and onto the chaise, sitting side by side. "Have you--um, have you been drinking all afternoon?"
Jensen rolled his eyes. He sounded like a sulky teenager as he retorted, "Why, are you gonna ground me? Jesus, Jay, I'm a fucking grown-up, I can drink all day if I feel like it. And no, I didn't start until after lunch. So there."
Jared wrapped an arm around Jensen's shoulders. "Is this about not getting the part? I'm so sorry, it sucks when that happens. But--"
Jensen shrugged off Jared's arm, turning away on the chaise. "Don't say 'the next one' or any of that horseshit." He folded his arms over his chest, looking out over the pool. The water rippled in the sun, sparkling blue and cool, contrasting with the angry heat emanating from Jensen.
"Jen, I--"
"No! Jesus, Jared, you're so Mary Sunshine." Jensen moved back to his own chaise. "I can't get a fucking part for love nor money. Either they want a Zach Logan clone, or they want me in some fucking Sharknado crapfest, or to be part of some slutty group of pretty people who are all fucking around with each other. God, it took me so long to get past all that horseshit, and now I'm right back there." He shook his head, and Jared saw his eyes were wet. "All the work I've done. The fucking award. It's like none of it matters."
Words eluded Jared. He didn't want to try soothing Jensen with platitudes or meaningless assurances, that wasn't going to help. His husband was in pain, and Jared didn't know how to fix it. He hated how helpless he felt.
"I'm sorry. I don't have any idea why this is happening. You have so much to offer, Jen, you're so freaking talented. Just...you just have to hang on, because someone is going to look past Zach Logan and realize how much more you can do. I know it."
He saw the anger drain out of Jensen's body, leaving him slumping limply down on his chaise. Jensen brought a hand up and rubbed his face.
"I hope so, Jay. I hope so."
They sat for several silent moments, Jensen staring at the water and Jared watching Jensen, unsure of what action to take next. Finally he stood up and put a hand out. Jensen looked up at him, eyes searching his face before taking the proffered hand. Jared pulled him up gently and embraced him.
"I love you. It's not the answer to everything, I know. But it's there, and it's always going to be there. Just rest tonight, okay? We'll just take it as it comes." He loosened the embrace enough to look into Jensen's face, noting the tear tracks from the corner of those beautiful green eyes he loved so much. "We'll figure it out together."
Pulling Jensen's head back against his chest, Jared felt Jensen nodding. They stood there for a few minutes, holding each other quietly.
"Let's go inside," Jared whispered. "I want to show you how loved and amazing you are." He was answered by a hitch in Jensen's breathing. Loosening enough for them to turn and face forward, Jared guided Jensen into the house and upstairs.
Jensen thumbed his phone off and leaned back in his leather office chair, resting his head back on the padded headrest. He breathed in deeply, releasing in a long, slow exhalation. A weight unlatched itself from his mind, like a huge load he'd been dragging finally had broken free, left in the dust behind him.
At. Fucking. Last.
A show. A show that sounded really good. An ensemble cast, an interesting premise. He wouldn't be the lead, but that was fine. He'd be someone completely different from Zach Logan (may he rest in peace), someone really substantial, someone flawed, with interesting thoughts and intentions.
Yes.
He didn't know whether to run around the room in frantic excitement or collapse on the sofa in utter relief. After almost two years of doors shutting in his face, of only crappy or copycat roles being offered, here it was. This had been a span of time where he'd begun to doubt himself like he hadn't done since his post-Supernatural days. When he'd had to do his best on the soapy dramas--drama both onscreen and off-- of Paradise Lost and Shadowed Lives. Of the heavy drinking that slowly became his only way of coping with crappy roles, endless rejection, and above all the chronic pain of losing Jared.
Jensen chose collapsing as his option for the moment, rising from his chair just to transfer over and fall back onto the plump sofa in his office, scattering the teal and rust cushions. He reflected on his old battle with the bottle, back before he and Jared had reunited. He'd been spinning his wheels in his career back then too, just like this last year plus, and on top of that he'd also still been nursing the grief and pain of being alone, being without Jared. Yeah, he could say it now. He, Jensen Ackles, had become a drunk. He'd been drinking non-stop before he got Carry On, and it had gotten to the point that he'd have to dry out at the start of the first couple of seasons. Then the show had really taken off, and Jensen had realized it was too good a thing to sacrifice on the altar of alcohol. It had been an ugly time, but he'd managed to pull himself out of it. Then he'd reunited with Jared, and life had been filled with a whole new kind of happiness.
Jensen wasn't unaware of how much he'd been falling back into that bad habit lately--losing the struggle with using alcohol as a crutch day by day, bottle by bottle. His drinking had increased this last year, so much so that he knew Jared had to have noticed. Jensen's spidey sense tingled constantly with the feeling of an unobtrusive eye watching him. Jensen hated being watched like he was an errant teenager, but what he'd hated even more was how he'd created a situation where he needed to be watched.
Hated that crawling into a bottle had become so close to being a major life option again.
Jared finally confronted Jensen about it. He didn't come right out with a full-scale intervention; no roomful of their near and dear tearfully telling Jensen what he had to do before he damaged himself or worse. Jensen was grateful to be spared that dramatic scenario. What Jared did do was to simply tell Jensen that he knew. He'd found the bottles in the bathroom, then in other places around the house, and he'd put two and two together. Jared had been firm about needing to address it right now, but so loving and non-judgmental that Jensen's initial prickly defensiveness had quickly collapsed. Jensen wasn't so blind to his own sins that he didn't know Jared was telling him the truth. Instead of lashing out at Jared, Jensen had ended up collapsing into broken sobs, words tumbling through his gasping about how he felt like a loser, how he feared that his career was over, and how his greatest fear was that Jared would eventually leave him.
It had been a painful night, but a cathartic one. Like cleansing a festering wound, they'd drained the infection from Jensen's thoughts, bringing them out to be faced in the bright light of reality. Jensen had not spared himself in being honest. Jared had vowed that he was never leaving Jensen, ever.
They'd cleared out the bottle stash together, collecting them up and pitching them. Jared had offered rehab, but he felt it was Jensen's choice at this point. Jensen considered it, but chose instead to start therapy, seeing a therapist twice weekly. They also went away together for two weeks to a spa that focused on meditation, controlling stress, and healthy eating. Jared suggested it would give them some time to relax together, an opportunity to focus just on themselves and developing healthful habits. The health spa had helped both he and Jared to take a breath and adopt better habits for dealing with stress.
Jensen knew he'd been given a huge chance for a do-over, a cosmic re-structuring of his life to a healthier, stronger mode. He wasn't about to squander it. He'd already had a chance to do that way back when, and now he'd been blessed with a second chance. It was a pure gift, and he was grateful.
He liked his therapist. Dr. Pinton was a tall, blond man of Swedish descent, with a warm manner but firm words. Dr. Pinton balanced the necessary probing and questioning of Jensen's fallacies with a calm assurance; he believed Jensen could do this, and that gave Jensen faith in himself when he felt shaky and unsure. Dr. Pinton also felt that Jensen was stuck in a deep rut of depression, and recommended that he take an antidepressant for six to eight months to give a boost. Jensen was leery of using medication at first, worried that it meant he was too 'weak' to do it by himself. Jared gently pointed out that if Jensen was dealing with high blood pressure or some other physical condition, he'd take medication to get it under control, wouldn't he? Looking at it from that viewpoint, Jensen conceded the value of the idea, agreeing to try the medication for a few months and at least get over the hump. After a few weeks, he found he did feel better--not stuck in a loop of negative thoughts that chipped away at him day and night. He was able to enjoy the life he and Jared had again.
When they'd gotten back from the spa and Jensen was well-settled into his therapy and medication routine, he threw himself afresh into a new round of auditions. This time, though, he felt much stronger and more clear-headed. He was able to access his creativity in a way he'd been blocked from for a long time, without even realizing how stifled he had been from the alcohol and depression. He felt more in touch with the characters he was trying out for, and that his auditions were a lot stronger as a result, his performances clearer and more inspired. His energy was back up, and he felt more like the himself he remembered.
And now, someone had said yes.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
An overpowering need to see Jared swept through Jensen. The need to tell Jared he'd been right, all along he'd been right, and Jensen owed him everything. Jared had been right about the right role coming along, about someone seeing that Jensen could do it, how he really did have the chops. And that Jensen was still sane and sober enough to even take the role? Well...that was all due to Jared.
Jensen was still lying frozen on the couch, his mind swirling with thoughts. When he reached the thought about how he owed everything to Jared, he felt a surge of energy and broke free from his stasis. He headed for the door, grabbing his keys and almost running to his car. This was not news to be delivered over the phone. This was arrive-in-person, scream-the-news and jump-into-Jared's-arms news. Thank God Nightwing 4, Wings Over Gotham, was shooting on the old Bond lot.
"Yes!" Jensen shouted at the sky as he threw open the car door. "Yeah, motherfuckers!"
Jensen would be on The Explorers, a historical drama replete with adventure, bloodshed, and skin. Netflix ordered a single season of eight episodes, but with the promise of more if the viewership warranted it. The focus of the first season: the Pre-Columbian Irish and Welsh explorers who had sailed to America. If a second season ended up being ordered, the ever-sexy Vikings would be on deck. The Explorers was gritty, bloody history all wrapped up with handsome young men and curvaceous women in a sexy, dramatic package.
Jensen was cast as Brychan, an uncle and advisor to the young Irishman hero spearheading the exploration idea. While not the lead, which was fine by Jensen, he had plenty of meaty scenes and screen time, including some sexy scenes with various nubile men and women. It was hard work, a lot of hours, and Jensen absolutely reveled in it. It felt so fucking good to sink his teeth into such a complex character, and to be involved with a show that spared no expense to bring the era to life.
Since Jensen was working so many hours on his new show, Jared decided to take a break between his Nightwings 3 and 4 films, instead of squeezing in a quick movie role as he often had in the past. The Explorers had a lot of shooting scheduled for the rocky coasts of Ireland and Nova Scotia, so it was Jared's turn to accompany Jensen on his location trips. It was no hardship; the locations were spectacular, and Jared always enjoyed watching Jensen work. Observing him bringing this savage, canny man from another era to life was particularly fascinating.
The only days Jared skipped being on set were when Jensen had a sex scene to shoot. While both Jared and Jensen understood full well how un-sexy it really was to film those scenes, what with lights and cameras and so on, nonetheless there was an awkwardness about watching one's spouse as he ripped the furs off a buxom wench or studly man, simulating oral sex or intercourse with only a sock to preserve his dignity.
Watching those scenes later was a different story, Jared decided, when they were back home and watching the episodes as they aired. He sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the television. 'Brychan' had just beheaded some rebellious prisoner, and now was about to celebrate his latest battle victory at a big feast. He and his men were in a huge wooden hall, with an enormous fire at one end. They were feasting on freshly roasted meat and drinking great flagons of mead. Many of the men had a woman by their side, or on their lap, kissing and fondling them while they drank and laughed. Brychan had a pretty redhead young woman sitting sideways on his thighs, and he squeezed her breasts as he swilled more liquor.
"I find you very...attractive," he said to her, his voice deep and husky with desire. He put his cup down and drew her face to his, kissing her passionately.
"M'lord..." she replied meekly. "I would happily serve you tonight, if you wish."
He kissed her again, pushing the shoulder of her linen gown down and exposing her full, firm breast. He squeezed it again, giving the nipple a pinch with his fingers. She cried out and wriggled on his lap.
"I do wish." He tugged the other shoulder of her gown down, pinning her arms with the fabric. Her bosom jiggled as she moaned under his caresses.
"The fuck are you watching this for?" Jensen asked when he walked into the room. "Jesus, Jay." He laughed as he gave Jared a gentle smack on the back of his head.
"Just wanted to see this part. Damn, you're one hot Irishman!" Jared whistled. "How did Liz handle it? You're pretty uh, hands on there." He stuck his tongue out and wiggled his fingers at Jensen, who sat down next to him.
"Well, sure, it's difficult to not get aroused when someone's doing shit to you. But there's so many people around, you know how it is. She's busy thinking if her head is at the right angle, and is she moaning too loud or not loud enough. I'm trying to not slobber on her, and besides, boobs don't do anything for me."
"I know. Still, she's wiggling on your lap. Hard not to get hard." Jared snickered.
Jensen blushed, making Jared snicker again. "Happily, with my loose pants and that tunic, no one can tell. I can't help it sometimes, friction is friction. You know that."
"I know. But I'll tell you want, fake as I know this is? It's damn hot to watch! You are one hunka hunka burning love, my man." Jared tugged Jensen over and kissed him, demanding entrance. Jensen immediately acceded, kissing back just as hotly while his hand wandered down to Jared's crotch.
"Shit, Jay, you really got turned on watching that!" Jensen snickered when he found Jared's erection, rubbing the ridge in his shorts. "Was it my manliness? Her bouncy tits? Which I do have to admit are pretty nice, as tits go. Maybe it's my rustic lovemaking skills?"
"Mmmm, all of the above. I'm glad they cut the scene there though, I didn't need to see you pumping away behind her. Although I like to imagine that...watching you fuck someone..." He groaned under a squeeze of Jensen's hand. "Now all I want is for you to fuck me."
"Oh yeah?" Jensen growled in Jared's ear. "Want me to do that manly rending of garments to you? Strip you bare and take you rough, like Brychan would do?" He bit Jared's neck lightly.
"Yeah," Jared retorted, his voice deeper. "Maybe I do. Maybe instead of a maiden to celebrate your warrior victories, you're seducing one of the defeated warriors instead." He turned his head and kissed Jensen. "Ravage me, my lord."
Jensen growled again, grabbing Jared's t-shirt and pulling it off. Flinging it aside, he pushed Jared down on the couch, kissing him hard.
"Oh my lord, you are so strong, such a warrior. I fear my virtue will be unable to withstand your angry cock," Jared protested, pretending to push Jensen away but really pulling him closer. "Whatever shall I do?"
"You'll welcome me between your supple thighs, and into your sweet, tender hole." Jensen spoke in Brychan's rough voice, one hand reaching to pull Jared's dick out. "You protest, but your rod speaks differently. I promise you shall not go unsatisfied tonight."
Jared started to say something snarky in response, but then Jensen twisted his hand on Jared's cock and bit his neck. "Oh shit...fuck me!" Jared gasped, and managed a final "I mean take me, fuck me, my conqueror!"
"Damn right I'm gonna fuck you." Jensen shoved his own pants down, freeing his flushed cock and rubbing its swollen head against Jared's dick. Their pre-come mixed in a slippery smear, and any further words were forgotten in throaty moans and the slap of flesh against flesh.
On to Part 4