rps fic: and behind this door... (1/4) j2_everafter
and behind this door...
SPN RPS: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG-13 for language
21,125 words
I will never write anything but AU again, probably. Sigh. A love story based on Pixar's Monsters Inc., in which, as the inestimable Spice Girls would put it, two become one. Written for j2_everafter .
Thank you to dark_reaction for her astute observations and for not mocking my lame-o Shakespeare reference too much; to historiography for being the light of my life; to deirdre_c for her incredible generosity and always spot-on, always kindly-delivered critiques; and finally, to kittyzams who is a hoser of the highest magnitude, a hosebeast if you will, hosing it up right nice. In the words of a great woman, "every time i try to fly i fall // without my wings, I feel so small // I guess I need you, baby". In this case, you are wings and the baby, and I am the plummeting, shrunken lady.
Well, we talked like that for awhile and then I said to him, I said, "You have the advantage on me. You know my name and I don't know yours." And, and right back at me he said, "What name do you like?" Well, I didn't even have to think twice about that. Harvey's always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, "Harvey." And, uh, this is the interesting thing about the whole thing: He said, "What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey." - Elwood P. Dowd, Harvey
The first time they meet, Jared says, "You just stumbled out of the closet."
"Ah," Jensen says. "A statement applicable both literally and figuratively."
"What the hell is going on?" Jared slaps on his bedside lamp, pulls his comforter up high over his bare chest.
"Boo?" Jensen tries.
Jared stares.
"Yeah, that was probably a longshot."
"Are you going to rob me?" Jared demands.
"No, no. The key word here is 'scare'."
"I'm scared," Jared says immediately.
Jensen tilts his head. "A scream just for proof?"
Jared gapes. He squeezes his eyes closed. "This," he says, "is not actually the weirdest dream I've ever had."
****
It figures that Jensen would get stuck with a dud. It's the story of his life. He's disaster-prone, Mike says. A judgment made worse because it’d come from a green eyeball on legs who'd never let an opportunity for a pratfall slide. But Sully was clear that he wanted management to know how the job was done, so here Jensen was, making the best of a bad situation. He's learned to get good at that.
Anyway, pretending the whole thing is a dream gets Jared to calm down some. Enough to start asking questions. "So you collect the energy from kids' screams to fuel your world?"
"Lightbulbs, Kindles, electric foot warmers, all powered by that adrenaline rush of fear."
"Twisted," Jared says.
"Recycling!" Jensen replies. "Effective use of what may be considered a waste product!"
"Two things." Jared counts them off on his fingers. "I'm seventeen. And you're not a monster."
Jensen raises both arms above his head, wiggles the lower half of his jaw. "I'm a bundle of youthful angst and hormones compounded by sexual confusion. Mikey considers me his crowning achievement." He lowers his arms, squints at Jared. "You're scrawny for seventeen."
"Thank you," Jared says. "My fear has now completely given way to annoyance and indignation."
"Ugh," Jensen says. "Useless."
****
The second time, Jensen just kicks open the door, strolls inside Jared's bedroom and drops onto his bed.
Jared groans, blearily opens one eye.
"It's me," Jensen says. "Jensen." He grins, snapping his teeth together.
"God," Jared says. "I was really hoping this wasn't going to be a recurring nightmare."
"Guess what," Jensen says, "I'm having an identity crisis."
"That's super great." Jared yawns. "I bet it'll provide a lot of fodder for your future memoirs."
"That's what I like about you," Jensen says. "You always look on the bright side."
"You don't actually know me."
"Sure I do." Jensen lies across the width of the bed, Jared's knobby knees digging into his spine. "I'm not a monster," he says, tone bright as the glint off high noon sun. "I'm just an orphaned kid Sully couldn't leave behind."
Jared hasn't turned on the light. It sounds like it's raining outside, a steady patter on the roof, like distant drumming. The room's warm, just this side of stuffy. Jensen blinks slowly at the ceiling.
"Did you hear me?" Jensen asks.
"Yeah," Jared says. He throws a corner of his comforter over Jensen's face.
"Are you going to say something bright-sided?"
Jared sighs. "No." He pats Jensen's shoulder twice with his big hand. "That blows."
Jensen sucks in a slow breath, lets the smile he'd grafted onto his face fade. "Yeah," he exhales in a whoosh. He feels a wobble in his chest, all his anchors cut from their chains. "I wonder what happened to my folks."
Jared turns a little in his bed, the mattress dipping. "Whatever it was, they were probably really sad to lose you." His voice is warm and dark. "I bet they didn't want to be away."
Jensen nods from under his portion of comforter. He puts his hands palm-down on the bed, riding out the little ripples Jared makes as he shifts.
"You're not a figment of my imagination, are you?" Jared asks.
****
The next time, Jared is wide awake. He has this monstrous TV in his room. It's demonstrably and emphatically not a flatscreen. It looks a million years old. He's playing Modern Warfare on it.
"Where did that thing come from?" Jensen asks. "The Stone Age?"
"Unlikely," Jared says. "But I appreciate your attempt at dramatic effect."
"It looks like something Fred Flintstone would buy with his end-of-the-year bonus."
Jared pauses his game, puts down his controller. "So are you just going to pop into my bedroom randomly for the rest of my life?"
"We're friends," Jensen says.
Jared narrows his eyes. "I could be doing stuff in here."
"Like what?"
"Private stuff."
Jensen laughs. "You're kind of uptight."
Jared stands; he's a lot taller than Jensen had expected. "I'm not uptight, I'm territorial. This is my room. It's my domain."
Jensen holds his hands up. "Alright, alright. I'll knock, how 'bout."
Jared sighs. "And if I need my sleep, you have to leave. Or be quiet."
"Silently watching you slumber?"
Jared grimaces. "Okay, if I require sleep, you will exit the premises."
"Well, we'll figure out all the details a little later." Jensen grabs Jared's game controller. "Find some wiggle room where it's called for."
Jared crosses his arms over his chest, chewing on his lower lip. "This doesn't seem like it's on the up and up," he says. "Are you allowed to just hang out with me?"
"Not technically." Jensen's got his guy stuck in a corner and there's a lot of shooting happening. He's not sure where, exactly, the gunfire is coming from, so he just kind of fires off into the air, hoping for the best. "But I'm guilt-tripping Sully pretty hard, and he's a marshmallow to begin with. How he became the company's executive-in-chief I'll never know."
"What if I tell everyone all the sordid details you've shared with me? It's a secret, right?"
Jensen looks up from the game. "You won't," he says.
Jared holds Jensen's gaze. He chews at his cheek before sighing. "Give me that," he says, snatching the controller from Jensen's hands. He easily extricates the marine from the corner of the bunker Jensen had rammed him into, then tosses the reins back to Jensen.
"Look at that," Jensen says. He nods at Jared's Muppets t-shirt. "Nice pj's."
"Mm," Jared says. "Kermit’s an institution." He points at the top left corner of the screen. "Throw the grenade back already!" He shakes his head. "Sloppy."
****
Jensen does some poking around back at headquarters. Jared's door was supposed to be sealed off and sequestered a long time ago--right around the time he left elementary school--but it got mixed up into the active doors somehow. Jensen tuts as he goes through the files. That's the problem with big corporations--it's hard to lay culpability at any one person's feet, what with the trail of little oversights that leads to every major error.
"It's a good thing I caught this one," he tells Jared. "Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't gotten your door thrown my way."
"I have a question," Jared says. "Why do you stay over there? You're not a monster, despite the convincing argument your face puts up. Just hop over here full-time."
"Hello," Jensen says. "Did you not hear what I just said? I am putting out fires all over Monstropolis."
Jared rolls his eyes.
"Holy smokes," Jensen says.
****
Jensen's already crossing over more than he should anyway. There are a lot of eyes on him; one especially large eye in particular seems to be concentrated on his back at all times. Jensen has never been more grateful for the fact that Mike is easily flustered. A few drops of hot sauce in Guido's morning coffee has him belching fire, and the drill in Mike's department is enough to put Jensen in the clear for weeks, what with the paperwork involved in follow-up.
"I have to start being careful," he tells Jared. "I think they're beginning to suspect."
Jared is doing pull-ups on the bar he'd hooked over the closet door. "Well," he grunts, "a fire drill, flood, and bomb threat in the span of three months doesn't really scream normal working conditions."
"Says you." Jensen scrolls through Jared's phone, snooping through his text messages. "And besides, I still don't think bomb threat is the appropriate term."
"We agreed to disagree, Jensen."
Jensen rolls his eyes, tosses Jared's phone aside. He watches Jared’s back strain. "How many of those can you do?"
Jared blows out an exhale. "This is eight."
"You're putting a little more meat on your bones, I guess."
Jared pulls his chin up above the bar, holds steady. If he straightened his legs, he could still press his feet flat to the floor, easy.
"Have you thought that through?" Jensen asks. "At least before I had the reassurance of knowing you wouldn't immediately be singled out for consumption if I ever dragged you into Little Hades."
Jared snorts, slowly lowers himself until his elbows are extended.
Jared's being incredibly boring, and his devotion to the bulking up of his body is near inexplicable. "Dude, do you have a girlfriend?" Jensen demands. He's already certain halfway through the question. "I can't believe you're holding out on me."
"I don't."
"You do!" Jensen says. "Say it. Say you have a girlfriend."
Jared drops to the ground, turns around. He's blushing as he stretches his arms behind his back. "No, I don't have a girlfriend. Don't twist yourself up into a knot."
Jensen shrugs, drops back onto the bed. "I was momentarily electrified by curiosity and shock."
"Settle back. All is as it should be." Jared falls face-first onto the bed next to Jensen, too fast for Jensen to get a good look at the expression that flickers across his face.
Jensen pinches Jared's wifebeater with two fingers, peels the wet cotton off the small of Jared's back, takes a kind of sick pleasure in it. He's not sure if there was a twinge in Jared's voice just then, a little bit of humiliation at Jensen's disbelief that Jared could land a girl. "Hey," he says, finally. "I mean. I think anyone would be lucky to have you."
"Mm," Jared says into his pillow.
"I'm serious."
Jared grunts.
"Hey," Jensen says. He puts his hand on Jared's shoulder, pats him awkwardly. He squeezes. "I'm serious."
Jared rolls up onto one side, looks over at Jensen. He holds Jensen's gaze, chews thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. "Okay," he says. "That's really sweet of you."
Jensen rolls his eyes, flips him off.
"Jensen, no. You're the sweetest," Jared says, smirking. "I'm serious."
****
So it turns out that Jared is on the water polo team, and they're getting further along into the season than anyone thought they would. "It's not just water polo," he tells Jensen. "It's varsity water polo."
"You are sleeping all the time," Jensen says. "I think there's something wrong with your thyroid."
"My thyroid is top notch, okay?" Jared yawns. "Coach is making me bulk up on top of practice, which is on top of debate team, which is on top of pounding out my college applications."
"Okay, well, get a new video game. Because I've smashed all your records, and there's nothing left for me to achieve here. I've attained, just," Jensen lifts a hand, "the pinnacle of my current being."
Jared groans. He puts his face down into the open textbook on his desk. "You're cramping my style," he says.
Jensen slaps Jared on the back. "Chin up. Would it be extremely helpful if I read this book aloud to you? 'Section 1.1: Four ways to represent a function--'"
"Oh my god," Jared groans. "I'm doomed. I'm done for."
Jensen laughs. "Come on, Jared. Relax. You can do this. I promise, I'll be quiet. I'll leave, if you need."
Jared turns his head, one cheek pressed to text. "I think I took on too much. I should probably drop this math class."
Jensen squeezes Jared's shoulder. "I think you can do it."
"Says the guy who lives in my closet."
Jensen smiles. "Says the guy who lives in your closet."
****
Jensen usually gets bored pretty fast. Monstropolis is sensory overkill, and Jensen got used to being assaulted with new things to see, or touch, or hear. It's a big city, and home to a massive industry, and there are, inevitably, monsters who take their jobs home with them, which leads to screaming, and roaring, and the occasional city rampage. It's not violent, really, mostly just a way to let off some steam.
"There's kind of an art to it," Jensen tells Jared. "Cutting swaths across municipal buildings."
"Taking graffiti up a step too far, don't you think?"
"Do I criticize cultural aspects of your society, Jared?" Jensen asks. "I don't think I do. Because I'm respectful."
"Oh my god," Jared says. He sits on his bed, leaning over to grab his calves. "I'm sore like you wouldn't believe."
Jensen sighs, drops into Jared's desk chair and wheels it over. "Did you stretch before you worked out?" he asks.
"Yes," Jared says. "A little."
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
"I touched my toes," Jared says. "I thought I was good to go."
Jensen leans back in his chair, spins away. "Go take a warm bath, Jay. You need to soak. I'll see you another night."
Jared kicks out a leg to catch Jensen's chair, groans immediately following. "Wait," he says, still wincing. "You're going to leave?"
Jensen thumbs at his nose. "Yeah. You need your rest, superstar. Besides, I do have duties to attend to. I'm pretty important."
"Come back Friday night. I've got a big game I can tell you about."
"Okay," Jensen says, hands gripping the rounded curves of the armrests. He puts one foot under his thigh. "I wish I could go," he says.
"What's stopping you?" Jared asks.
Jensen smiles. "Monsters have a curfew. Unless you're planning on playing around midnight, I think this is a match I'll have to miss."
Jared closes one eye, studying Jensen. "Do you like hanging out in here? I don't--it's not a huge room."
"Hm," Jensen says. He takes in the four walls, the framed jerseys, trophies and photos strewn across shelves. The overflowing hamper, the yellow light of bare lightbulbs, the Thomas the Train Engine sheets stretched threadbare over the too-small bed. He shrugs. "I wouldn't come back if I didn't."
Jared runs a finger across the end of one eyebrow, smiles to himself.
****
Jensen shows up Friday night, but the room's empty. He waits around, and at 2 a.m., Jared crawls in through the window. He's weaving. Jensen suspects he's drunk.
"Celebrating?" Jensen asks.
Jared beams. "We crushed them. You should have seen, Jensen. We beyond dominated."
"Never had a doubt," Jensen says. He walks over to Jared, gets his shoulder up under Jared's arm and guides him to the bed. "Sleep it off, champ," he says, tugging the covers up and around Jared.
"Yeah," Jared says, and then he's out.
Jensen goes through the closet door, back to the abandoned training facility where he'd installed Jared's door. He's pretty sure it's reasonably safe here. Sully had been asking about Jared lately, wondering if Jensen was visiting him too often with just enough of an edge that Jensen took warning.
It's not exactly roses in the city but this is the place Jensen grew up. Sully, for all his overprotective tendencies, is family. For every doubt Jensen has had about whether he belongs in Monstropolis, he's found a reason to feel welcome, and wanted.
He wonders if he could leave. He wonders if he could ever really make his life on the other side of that door. He touches it, the familiar white paint, stained wood showing through the places it had worn thin, the pennant hanging on the doorknob. Small tokens of the person it leads to.
****
The next several weeks, every time Jensen drops by, Jared is either already asleep or just gone. The nights Jared is asleep, Jensen lingers, putting the TV on mute while he cycles through a campaign he's played twenty-two times already.
Jared might have been sick one of those nights, and Jensen worried. He touched the fine, sweat-soaked hair at Jared's temples. The kid didn't look too hot, so Jensen snuck down the hallway and wet a washcloth, laid it across Jared's forehead. It's a risk--Jensen keeps freezing at noises coming from the master bedroom down the hall--and Jensen is annoyed that Jared made him take it, so he leaves pretty quick after.
Anyway, Jensen keeps missing Jared, so he tries to make an appointment, once, scrawling a note on a Post-it he sticks to Jared's chin, but when he shows up on the specified date, he finds a note stuck to the TV offering Jared's apologies. There's a dance at school.
Jensen doesn't sulk, at least not for very long. He wanders around the room, poking into drawers, rifling through Jared's backpack. He respects Jared's privacy, usually, but he's not feeling very generous tonight. He picks up a ball cap that's hanging off a nail Jared had pounded into the wall and puts it on.
Jensen imagines, briefly, that Jared went with someone he likes. Someone he goes to school with, that he can share the fullness of his life with, day to night. He sighs, and puts the hat down on Jared's bed, closes the door gently behind him. He'd almost thought the adage wouldn't apply to him, that maybe not every door would outgrow its monster.
It seemed to happen so fast.
****
Sully says that it isn't unheard of, for monsters to form an attachment. Especially now that they've been experimenting with a transition over to laughter--the accidental discovery that it was exponentially more powerful than screams was a revelation. Not a revolution quite yet--they still had technological and institutional hurdles to jump--but they were slowly but surely taking the first steps toward some sort of switch.
They'd expected the possibility that monsters would become more prone to creating bonds with their wards, but they hadn't expected just how quickly and easily those relationships would take root. The comedy routines were more amenable to the forming of friendships, and Imaginary Friends, Ltd. had already lodged a formal complaint and requested a court-ordered injunction on any further encroachment upon their bread-and-butter.
At Sully's request, Jensen had taken on the duties of liaising with IF's legal team. To be completely honest, he understood their concern, and had his own about the pace at which Monsters, Inc. had been reallocating their resources. They needed to slow down and lay tracks for a whole new infrastructure, including some sort of system to monitor Monster-Ward interaction. He'd told Sully that a curriculum needed to be developed, teaching monsters to maintain the illusion of a child's dream or overactive imagination, insuring some distance.
Out of the blue, during another slip into the same sort of lecture over the dinner table, Sully puts a paw over Jensen's hand and asks him about Jared.
Jensen puts on a good front, saying he hasn't seen Jared in almost a year, but Sully quietly tells Jensen that he'd kept track of the traffic on Jared's door. "Did you really think nobody would notice an extra door plugged into our mainframe?"
Jensen sighs. "Caught." He puts his fork down. "But I really haven't visited him in weeks. I learned my lesson." He smiles lightly at Sully. "But see, I'm just as worried about our employees as I am about the kids. They can't stay friends with their wards forever." He laughs. "I don't know if we could afford all the worker's comp for emotional distress."
Sully chews thoughtfully. "It sounds like you're speaking from personal experience," he says.
Jensen shrugs.
"You and Jared had a different story, though, didn't you?"
Jensen laughs. "Well, yeah. He was a teenager. Way less lovable."
****
The truth is, Jensen had needed to quit cold turkey. It had taken him a little while to realize that, human though they both might be, his and Jared's friendship wasn't built to last. Jensen couldn't sacrifice everything else in his life just to hold on to a good buddy. He knew that.
It makes him think of Jared again, though, that conversation.
He asks Mike about the door while they’re walking out of a meeting. If it was still where Jensen had left it.
Mike hustles him into the nearest private space, checks to make sure there are no feet or tentacles or flippers occupying the toilet stalls. He hops up onto the counter, stands so he’s at eye level with Jensen. “Jensen. Buddy. Tell me you’re not thinking about going back to see that A-level chump again.”
Jensen shrugs. “What’s the harm in looking in on him?”
“There’s plenty of harm! Oceans of it! Planets!”
Jensen sets his jaw, turns on the faucet next to Mike, washes his hands.
Mike sighs. He puts a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, tentative, careful with his talons. “Have you said anything to Sully?”
Jensen shakes his head.
Mike looks at Jensen in the mirror, analytical. Seeing all the ways Jensen is different. Jensen remembers that look from when he was just a kid, the way it had used to make him angry. He’d glued fur to his face for months.
It’s easier now to stand it. Mike is honest to a fault, every emotion on his sleeve. Still. “Stop looking at me like that,” Jensen says.
“You know, Sully, he didn’t mean to take you away. He’s never stopped feeling guilty about it; I don’t know what it is, a family thing, probably--the way his grandmother could make you sorry, whoo!” He puts his hands on his hips, a rickety smile under his eye. “But once you were here, Sully went all in. The big galoot always said it was you who chose him.”
“Never let it be said that Mike Wazowski couldn’t charm a fourth wish from a genie.” Jensen dries his hands on his pants, swipes them over his ass. “You would like Jared,” he says. “He’d laugh at your jokes.”
“Okay.” Mike throws up his hands. He hops off the counter, looks down to say to his feet, “Jensen, a guy gets used to having you around. I did.” He heads toward the door. “I’ll leave the door active,” he calls over his shoulder, toenails clicking on the tile.
****
Jensen walks down hallways. Their familiarity's faded a little, but he's in front of Jared's door and the red light over it is glowing as usual. He almost knocks.
Jared's awake and bent over his keyboard. His back is broader than Jensen remembers, the sleeves fitting a little tighter.
Jensen had planned on barging in like he used to, collapsing onto Jared's bed and kicking his feet up, but Jared has a new comforter, something in blocks of blue and red, and--the whole room looks different. Older.
Jensen closes the closet door quietly behind him, rocks back on his heels and spreads his arms out wide. "Boo," he says.
Jared jumps up out of his chair, literally spins in the air.
"Whoa," Jensen says. "Agile."
Jared points. "You. You scared the shit out of me."
Jensen can't help but laugh. "I'm sorry," he says.
Jared leans over, bracing his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He shakes his head, then straightens, strides over and crushes Jensen into a hug.
He's a lot taller than Jensen remembers. More expressive, too. This is probably the first time they've ever hugged. "Okay," Jensen says, patting Jared's side.
Jared steps back, but his hands stay on Jensen's shoulders, holding Jensen firmly as he takes a good look. "I was beginning to think I really did make you up."
"You got big," Jensen says.
"I doubted my mental health for a few weeks there."
"Why is your face like that?" Jensen asks.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"You're talking a lot," Jensen says. He doesn't know why he feels so suspicious.
Jared laughs, and Jensen notes the straight whiteness of his teeth, the way his laugh almost booms from some newly discovered reservoir. "You have good timing. It's my birthday."
"Is it?" Jensen asks.
"It is. I'm eighteen now." He drops his hands suddenly, and Jensen can feel the warmth dissipating, too fast.
"Happy birthday!" Jensen says.
"You don't sound like you mean it," Jared says.
"I do." Jensen grins, ignoring the sweet little drop in his stomach. "You're an adult now."
Jared smiles huge. He claps his hands together. "Can you believe it?"
Jensen laughs. "I don't know if the world's ready."
Jared chuckles. He swings his arms back and forth, then finally sits on the bed, tapping the space next to him. "So tell me everything, dude. What've you been up to? Where have you been? Did you meet the three-eyed man of your dreams?"
"You've changed a lot," Jensen says. "In a good way," he adds quickly.
Jared laughs, runs one hand down the front of his shirt, nose wrinkled. "You think?"
"Not just--" Jensen swallows, suddenly nervous. His mouth feels dry. "You seem really happy. Kind of comfortable in your skin, you know?"
Jared smiles. "Thanks. I guess I blossomed. People always said it would happen. I feel good."
Jensen sits down next to Jared. There's barely enough space for the two of them on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad," Jensen says.
Jared nods, waiting for Jensen to pick up the conversation, but Jensen can't seem to get his act together, the room feeling very small, his sweater confining.
He remembers how furiously Jared had been typing when he came in and he looks up at the computer. "You seemed busy when I came in," Jensen says. "Maybe I should get going."
"No, man," Jared says. "It's just homework. It's not even due tomorrow."
"Are you sure?" Jensen asks.
"Definitely." Jared leans over and roots around under the bed, comes up with two video game controllers. "Look who got another controller for his birthday." He waggles his eyebrows.
It's a relief, and Jensen laughs, thankful for the mindless company that Call of Duty allows. He leaves after a round, though, making something up about needing to check in with Roz and the CDA, and it's only after he goes through the door that he feels like he can breathe.
He closes the door behind him, studying his shoes. When he looks up, Sully is standing in front of him, a clipboard in his hands.
"Things are different for you," Sully says. He'd been waiting. "You're lovesick."
****
Which, actually, makes things simpler. The next step after discovering one loves somebody is to then tell that person. Sure, you could kill some time between the two points by conflicted inaction--to tell or not to tell, that is the question--but Jensen's always thought it best, when found in a sea of trouble, to take up arms. It’s the pragmatist in him.
"So, anyway," Jensen wraps up. "I like you."
Jared's sitting up really straight at the foot of his bed.
"In the spirit of full disclosure, there's a possibility it could tip toward love territory. But I'm going to hold onto that word until after I find out whether or not you're going to shut me down." Jensen's pretty anxious. He sounds like he's reading from a Powerpoint presentation, he knows, but he can't really help it.
Jared nods. He scratches the bridge of his nose. "That's big news," he says.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Take some time, if you need. That's understandable." He rocks back on his heels, chews on his lip.
"I'm kind of--" Jared shakes his head, like he's clearing it of cobwebs. He looks up, smiling ruefully. "I don't even know if I'm gay, Jensen."
"Yeah," Jensen says. "You're a late-bloomer. I think that might be your thing." He looks away decidedly, doing his best not to give Jared the next in what's already been a long series of look-overs.
Jared snorts. "Just tell me I grew up good, already; get all the creepy out of your system."
"Hey," Jensen says. "In my defense, you're at least one growth spurt and fifteen pounds away from the Jared I first met."
Jared sighs, pokes at his bicep. "I'm still the twiggiest guy on my team, you know that?" He pokes it harder. "Grow, damn you, grow."
"Oh, good," Jensen says. "A more important conversation has come along to replace the bullshit we were swapping earlier."
Jared laughs. "It's so nice to be loved," he says.
Jensen doesn't know what to do with his hands. He leans forward. "Is it?" he asks. He wants to know.
****
They talk about it a little longer after that, but Jared seems a little skittish. He still makes Jensen stick around for a few episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but Jensen sneaks out when Jared falls asleep halfway through the last one and once Jensen's back in Monstropolis, he starts to beat himself up.
"Hey," Sully says, pressing the call button for the elevator in the company lobby the next morning, "Don't get stuck inside your head. I've learned it's best not to overthink things."
"Ha," Mike says. "A lesson you unequivocally took to heart. Your head's emptier than the beauty salon floor the day of Celia's annual visit."
"You can't change what you said in that room. Let it be." Sully pats Jensen gently on the shoulder.
Jensen nods, walks into the elevator that just sprang open, jabs at the button for the 13th floor. He lasts until the doors close before blurting out, "I put too much pressure on him, though, right? What happens if he says yes? If he feels the way I do?" He falls against the back wall of the elevator. "I'm serious, what happens next?"
Sully clears his throat, looks away, studying the deepest recesses of the top corners of the elevator box.
Mike taps one foot. "You hold hands? Exchange a smooch or two? The moon, dinner, candlelight." He swoons. "It's the stuff of fairy tales."
Jensen clenches his jaw, staring straight ahead, shaking his head slightly. "I just--I couldn't ask him to come to Monstropolis." He's worried. "Really, the only realistic play is for me to leave here."
Sully makes this small noise in the back of his throat, and it pricks Jensen, lets out all of his air.
"You'd really go?" Mike asks.
"I don't know," Jensen says. "Could I make Jared a reason to leave my whole life behind? He's still a kid."
Sully bumps Jensen's shoulder with his own. "You're still a kid."
The elevator door opens. "Yeah," Jensen says, looking down at his shoes. He steps over.
****
He gives Jared more than a few days to think. Truthfully, it's as much for his own sake as it is Jared's. He hadn't realized how terrifying it might be to get a real, honest-to-god answer. 'No' feels more knowable in a way: If Jared isn't interested, if he just wants to be friends, then the status quo is fine. Jensen will stay in Monstropolis, the city he'd grown up in, and Jared will grow up and go off to college. And maybe Jensen would peek into his room during the holidays, when Jared was home from school; they'd share a few laughs, some egg-nog, and fill each other in on their separate lives. It could be nice.
Jensen spends most of his time worrying about what will happen if Jared says yes. "First off," he tells Roz, "I don't know anything about making a life there. How am I going to get a job? I don't have school records that could transfer over."
"Of course you do," she rasps. "You've been an irrepressible source of paperwork for me since the day you stowed away on Sully's inobservant back."
"Do you actually do paperwork?" Jensen asks.
"I am more of a take action kind of gal," Roz monotones.
Jensen leans on the counter of her station, both elbows planted on the formica. "I don't think I could do it," he says. "Say goodbye to my life here. I've heard the stories about Bigfoot. If there's any truth to it, he's not handling banishment all that well."
"There's a difference between exile and emigration." Roz says. She slithers to the back of her office, files away the last few folders of the day. "About twenty pages of paperwork, for one." She slams the cabinet closed, makes her way back to the service window. "We're not separate worlds, genius. Yetis, closet doors, North Poles. Don't waste your time with maudlin."
Her tone of voice is the polar opposite of sentimental, and it makes Jensen smile. He pokes his head through the window of the Plexiglas partition. "I'd miss you, Roz."
"Ha!" She shoos him back with a flick of her wrist, rasps, "Watch your head," slams the window shut.
Door One, Part Two
SPN RPS: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG-13 for language
21,125 words
I will never write anything but AU again, probably. Sigh. A love story based on Pixar's Monsters Inc., in which, as the inestimable Spice Girls would put it, two become one. Written for j2_everafter .
Thank you to dark_reaction for her astute observations and for not mocking my lame-o Shakespeare reference too much; to historiography for being the light of my life; to deirdre_c for her incredible generosity and always spot-on, always kindly-delivered critiques; and finally, to kittyzams who is a hoser of the highest magnitude, a hosebeast if you will, hosing it up right nice. In the words of a great woman, "every time i try to fly i fall // without my wings, I feel so small // I guess I need you, baby". In this case, you are wings and the baby, and I am the plummeting, shrunken lady.
Well, we talked like that for awhile and then I said to him, I said, "You have the advantage on me. You know my name and I don't know yours." And, and right back at me he said, "What name do you like?" Well, I didn't even have to think twice about that. Harvey's always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, "Harvey." And, uh, this is the interesting thing about the whole thing: He said, "What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey." - Elwood P. Dowd, Harvey
The first time they meet, Jared says, "You just stumbled out of the closet."
"Ah," Jensen says. "A statement applicable both literally and figuratively."
"What the hell is going on?" Jared slaps on his bedside lamp, pulls his comforter up high over his bare chest.
"Boo?" Jensen tries.
Jared stares.
"Yeah, that was probably a longshot."
"Are you going to rob me?" Jared demands.
"No, no. The key word here is 'scare'."
"I'm scared," Jared says immediately.
Jensen tilts his head. "A scream just for proof?"
Jared gapes. He squeezes his eyes closed. "This," he says, "is not actually the weirdest dream I've ever had."
****
It figures that Jensen would get stuck with a dud. It's the story of his life. He's disaster-prone, Mike says. A judgment made worse because it’d come from a green eyeball on legs who'd never let an opportunity for a pratfall slide. But Sully was clear that he wanted management to know how the job was done, so here Jensen was, making the best of a bad situation. He's learned to get good at that.
Anyway, pretending the whole thing is a dream gets Jared to calm down some. Enough to start asking questions. "So you collect the energy from kids' screams to fuel your world?"
"Lightbulbs, Kindles, electric foot warmers, all powered by that adrenaline rush of fear."
"Twisted," Jared says.
"Recycling!" Jensen replies. "Effective use of what may be considered a waste product!"
"Two things." Jared counts them off on his fingers. "I'm seventeen. And you're not a monster."
Jensen raises both arms above his head, wiggles the lower half of his jaw. "I'm a bundle of youthful angst and hormones compounded by sexual confusion. Mikey considers me his crowning achievement." He lowers his arms, squints at Jared. "You're scrawny for seventeen."
"Thank you," Jared says. "My fear has now completely given way to annoyance and indignation."
"Ugh," Jensen says. "Useless."
****
The second time, Jensen just kicks open the door, strolls inside Jared's bedroom and drops onto his bed.
Jared groans, blearily opens one eye.
"It's me," Jensen says. "Jensen." He grins, snapping his teeth together.
"God," Jared says. "I was really hoping this wasn't going to be a recurring nightmare."
"Guess what," Jensen says, "I'm having an identity crisis."
"That's super great." Jared yawns. "I bet it'll provide a lot of fodder for your future memoirs."
"That's what I like about you," Jensen says. "You always look on the bright side."
"You don't actually know me."
"Sure I do." Jensen lies across the width of the bed, Jared's knobby knees digging into his spine. "I'm not a monster," he says, tone bright as the glint off high noon sun. "I'm just an orphaned kid Sully couldn't leave behind."
Jared hasn't turned on the light. It sounds like it's raining outside, a steady patter on the roof, like distant drumming. The room's warm, just this side of stuffy. Jensen blinks slowly at the ceiling.
"Did you hear me?" Jensen asks.
"Yeah," Jared says. He throws a corner of his comforter over Jensen's face.
"Are you going to say something bright-sided?"
Jared sighs. "No." He pats Jensen's shoulder twice with his big hand. "That blows."
Jensen sucks in a slow breath, lets the smile he'd grafted onto his face fade. "Yeah," he exhales in a whoosh. He feels a wobble in his chest, all his anchors cut from their chains. "I wonder what happened to my folks."
Jared turns a little in his bed, the mattress dipping. "Whatever it was, they were probably really sad to lose you." His voice is warm and dark. "I bet they didn't want to be away."
Jensen nods from under his portion of comforter. He puts his hands palm-down on the bed, riding out the little ripples Jared makes as he shifts.
"You're not a figment of my imagination, are you?" Jared asks.
****
The next time, Jared is wide awake. He has this monstrous TV in his room. It's demonstrably and emphatically not a flatscreen. It looks a million years old. He's playing Modern Warfare on it.
"Where did that thing come from?" Jensen asks. "The Stone Age?"
"Unlikely," Jared says. "But I appreciate your attempt at dramatic effect."
"It looks like something Fred Flintstone would buy with his end-of-the-year bonus."
Jared pauses his game, puts down his controller. "So are you just going to pop into my bedroom randomly for the rest of my life?"
"We're friends," Jensen says.
Jared narrows his eyes. "I could be doing stuff in here."
"Like what?"
"Private stuff."
Jensen laughs. "You're kind of uptight."
Jared stands; he's a lot taller than Jensen had expected. "I'm not uptight, I'm territorial. This is my room. It's my domain."
Jensen holds his hands up. "Alright, alright. I'll knock, how 'bout."
Jared sighs. "And if I need my sleep, you have to leave. Or be quiet."
"Silently watching you slumber?"
Jared grimaces. "Okay, if I require sleep, you will exit the premises."
"Well, we'll figure out all the details a little later." Jensen grabs Jared's game controller. "Find some wiggle room where it's called for."
Jared crosses his arms over his chest, chewing on his lower lip. "This doesn't seem like it's on the up and up," he says. "Are you allowed to just hang out with me?"
"Not technically." Jensen's got his guy stuck in a corner and there's a lot of shooting happening. He's not sure where, exactly, the gunfire is coming from, so he just kind of fires off into the air, hoping for the best. "But I'm guilt-tripping Sully pretty hard, and he's a marshmallow to begin with. How he became the company's executive-in-chief I'll never know."
"What if I tell everyone all the sordid details you've shared with me? It's a secret, right?"
Jensen looks up from the game. "You won't," he says.
Jared holds Jensen's gaze. He chews at his cheek before sighing. "Give me that," he says, snatching the controller from Jensen's hands. He easily extricates the marine from the corner of the bunker Jensen had rammed him into, then tosses the reins back to Jensen.
"Look at that," Jensen says. He nods at Jared's Muppets t-shirt. "Nice pj's."
"Mm," Jared says. "Kermit’s an institution." He points at the top left corner of the screen. "Throw the grenade back already!" He shakes his head. "Sloppy."
****
Jensen does some poking around back at headquarters. Jared's door was supposed to be sealed off and sequestered a long time ago--right around the time he left elementary school--but it got mixed up into the active doors somehow. Jensen tuts as he goes through the files. That's the problem with big corporations--it's hard to lay culpability at any one person's feet, what with the trail of little oversights that leads to every major error.
"It's a good thing I caught this one," he tells Jared. "Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't gotten your door thrown my way."
"I have a question," Jared says. "Why do you stay over there? You're not a monster, despite the convincing argument your face puts up. Just hop over here full-time."
"Hello," Jensen says. "Did you not hear what I just said? I am putting out fires all over Monstropolis."
Jared rolls his eyes.
"Holy smokes," Jensen says.
****
Jensen's already crossing over more than he should anyway. There are a lot of eyes on him; one especially large eye in particular seems to be concentrated on his back at all times. Jensen has never been more grateful for the fact that Mike is easily flustered. A few drops of hot sauce in Guido's morning coffee has him belching fire, and the drill in Mike's department is enough to put Jensen in the clear for weeks, what with the paperwork involved in follow-up.
"I have to start being careful," he tells Jared. "I think they're beginning to suspect."
Jared is doing pull-ups on the bar he'd hooked over the closet door. "Well," he grunts, "a fire drill, flood, and bomb threat in the span of three months doesn't really scream normal working conditions."
"Says you." Jensen scrolls through Jared's phone, snooping through his text messages. "And besides, I still don't think bomb threat is the appropriate term."
"We agreed to disagree, Jensen."
Jensen rolls his eyes, tosses Jared's phone aside. He watches Jared’s back strain. "How many of those can you do?"
Jared blows out an exhale. "This is eight."
"You're putting a little more meat on your bones, I guess."
Jared pulls his chin up above the bar, holds steady. If he straightened his legs, he could still press his feet flat to the floor, easy.
"Have you thought that through?" Jensen asks. "At least before I had the reassurance of knowing you wouldn't immediately be singled out for consumption if I ever dragged you into Little Hades."
Jared snorts, slowly lowers himself until his elbows are extended.
Jared's being incredibly boring, and his devotion to the bulking up of his body is near inexplicable. "Dude, do you have a girlfriend?" Jensen demands. He's already certain halfway through the question. "I can't believe you're holding out on me."
"I don't."
"You do!" Jensen says. "Say it. Say you have a girlfriend."
Jared drops to the ground, turns around. He's blushing as he stretches his arms behind his back. "No, I don't have a girlfriend. Don't twist yourself up into a knot."
Jensen shrugs, drops back onto the bed. "I was momentarily electrified by curiosity and shock."
"Settle back. All is as it should be." Jared falls face-first onto the bed next to Jensen, too fast for Jensen to get a good look at the expression that flickers across his face.
Jensen pinches Jared's wifebeater with two fingers, peels the wet cotton off the small of Jared's back, takes a kind of sick pleasure in it. He's not sure if there was a twinge in Jared's voice just then, a little bit of humiliation at Jensen's disbelief that Jared could land a girl. "Hey," he says, finally. "I mean. I think anyone would be lucky to have you."
"Mm," Jared says into his pillow.
"I'm serious."
Jared grunts.
"Hey," Jensen says. He puts his hand on Jared's shoulder, pats him awkwardly. He squeezes. "I'm serious."
Jared rolls up onto one side, looks over at Jensen. He holds Jensen's gaze, chews thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. "Okay," he says. "That's really sweet of you."
Jensen rolls his eyes, flips him off.
"Jensen, no. You're the sweetest," Jared says, smirking. "I'm serious."
****
So it turns out that Jared is on the water polo team, and they're getting further along into the season than anyone thought they would. "It's not just water polo," he tells Jensen. "It's varsity water polo."
"You are sleeping all the time," Jensen says. "I think there's something wrong with your thyroid."
"My thyroid is top notch, okay?" Jared yawns. "Coach is making me bulk up on top of practice, which is on top of debate team, which is on top of pounding out my college applications."
"Okay, well, get a new video game. Because I've smashed all your records, and there's nothing left for me to achieve here. I've attained, just," Jensen lifts a hand, "the pinnacle of my current being."
Jared groans. He puts his face down into the open textbook on his desk. "You're cramping my style," he says.
Jensen slaps Jared on the back. "Chin up. Would it be extremely helpful if I read this book aloud to you? 'Section 1.1: Four ways to represent a function--'"
"Oh my god," Jared groans. "I'm doomed. I'm done for."
Jensen laughs. "Come on, Jared. Relax. You can do this. I promise, I'll be quiet. I'll leave, if you need."
Jared turns his head, one cheek pressed to text. "I think I took on too much. I should probably drop this math class."
Jensen squeezes Jared's shoulder. "I think you can do it."
"Says the guy who lives in my closet."
Jensen smiles. "Says the guy who lives in your closet."
****
Jensen usually gets bored pretty fast. Monstropolis is sensory overkill, and Jensen got used to being assaulted with new things to see, or touch, or hear. It's a big city, and home to a massive industry, and there are, inevitably, monsters who take their jobs home with them, which leads to screaming, and roaring, and the occasional city rampage. It's not violent, really, mostly just a way to let off some steam.
"There's kind of an art to it," Jensen tells Jared. "Cutting swaths across municipal buildings."
"Taking graffiti up a step too far, don't you think?"
"Do I criticize cultural aspects of your society, Jared?" Jensen asks. "I don't think I do. Because I'm respectful."
"Oh my god," Jared says. He sits on his bed, leaning over to grab his calves. "I'm sore like you wouldn't believe."
Jensen sighs, drops into Jared's desk chair and wheels it over. "Did you stretch before you worked out?" he asks.
"Yes," Jared says. "A little."
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
"I touched my toes," Jared says. "I thought I was good to go."
Jensen leans back in his chair, spins away. "Go take a warm bath, Jay. You need to soak. I'll see you another night."
Jared kicks out a leg to catch Jensen's chair, groans immediately following. "Wait," he says, still wincing. "You're going to leave?"
Jensen thumbs at his nose. "Yeah. You need your rest, superstar. Besides, I do have duties to attend to. I'm pretty important."
"Come back Friday night. I've got a big game I can tell you about."
"Okay," Jensen says, hands gripping the rounded curves of the armrests. He puts one foot under his thigh. "I wish I could go," he says.
"What's stopping you?" Jared asks.
Jensen smiles. "Monsters have a curfew. Unless you're planning on playing around midnight, I think this is a match I'll have to miss."
Jared closes one eye, studying Jensen. "Do you like hanging out in here? I don't--it's not a huge room."
"Hm," Jensen says. He takes in the four walls, the framed jerseys, trophies and photos strewn across shelves. The overflowing hamper, the yellow light of bare lightbulbs, the Thomas the Train Engine sheets stretched threadbare over the too-small bed. He shrugs. "I wouldn't come back if I didn't."
Jared runs a finger across the end of one eyebrow, smiles to himself.
****
Jensen shows up Friday night, but the room's empty. He waits around, and at 2 a.m., Jared crawls in through the window. He's weaving. Jensen suspects he's drunk.
"Celebrating?" Jensen asks.
Jared beams. "We crushed them. You should have seen, Jensen. We beyond dominated."
"Never had a doubt," Jensen says. He walks over to Jared, gets his shoulder up under Jared's arm and guides him to the bed. "Sleep it off, champ," he says, tugging the covers up and around Jared.
"Yeah," Jared says, and then he's out.
Jensen goes through the closet door, back to the abandoned training facility where he'd installed Jared's door. He's pretty sure it's reasonably safe here. Sully had been asking about Jared lately, wondering if Jensen was visiting him too often with just enough of an edge that Jensen took warning.
It's not exactly roses in the city but this is the place Jensen grew up. Sully, for all his overprotective tendencies, is family. For every doubt Jensen has had about whether he belongs in Monstropolis, he's found a reason to feel welcome, and wanted.
He wonders if he could leave. He wonders if he could ever really make his life on the other side of that door. He touches it, the familiar white paint, stained wood showing through the places it had worn thin, the pennant hanging on the doorknob. Small tokens of the person it leads to.
****
The next several weeks, every time Jensen drops by, Jared is either already asleep or just gone. The nights Jared is asleep, Jensen lingers, putting the TV on mute while he cycles through a campaign he's played twenty-two times already.
Jared might have been sick one of those nights, and Jensen worried. He touched the fine, sweat-soaked hair at Jared's temples. The kid didn't look too hot, so Jensen snuck down the hallway and wet a washcloth, laid it across Jared's forehead. It's a risk--Jensen keeps freezing at noises coming from the master bedroom down the hall--and Jensen is annoyed that Jared made him take it, so he leaves pretty quick after.
Anyway, Jensen keeps missing Jared, so he tries to make an appointment, once, scrawling a note on a Post-it he sticks to Jared's chin, but when he shows up on the specified date, he finds a note stuck to the TV offering Jared's apologies. There's a dance at school.
Jensen doesn't sulk, at least not for very long. He wanders around the room, poking into drawers, rifling through Jared's backpack. He respects Jared's privacy, usually, but he's not feeling very generous tonight. He picks up a ball cap that's hanging off a nail Jared had pounded into the wall and puts it on.
Jensen imagines, briefly, that Jared went with someone he likes. Someone he goes to school with, that he can share the fullness of his life with, day to night. He sighs, and puts the hat down on Jared's bed, closes the door gently behind him. He'd almost thought the adage wouldn't apply to him, that maybe not every door would outgrow its monster.
It seemed to happen so fast.
****
Sully says that it isn't unheard of, for monsters to form an attachment. Especially now that they've been experimenting with a transition over to laughter--the accidental discovery that it was exponentially more powerful than screams was a revelation. Not a revolution quite yet--they still had technological and institutional hurdles to jump--but they were slowly but surely taking the first steps toward some sort of switch.
They'd expected the possibility that monsters would become more prone to creating bonds with their wards, but they hadn't expected just how quickly and easily those relationships would take root. The comedy routines were more amenable to the forming of friendships, and Imaginary Friends, Ltd. had already lodged a formal complaint and requested a court-ordered injunction on any further encroachment upon their bread-and-butter.
At Sully's request, Jensen had taken on the duties of liaising with IF's legal team. To be completely honest, he understood their concern, and had his own about the pace at which Monsters, Inc. had been reallocating their resources. They needed to slow down and lay tracks for a whole new infrastructure, including some sort of system to monitor Monster-Ward interaction. He'd told Sully that a curriculum needed to be developed, teaching monsters to maintain the illusion of a child's dream or overactive imagination, insuring some distance.
Out of the blue, during another slip into the same sort of lecture over the dinner table, Sully puts a paw over Jensen's hand and asks him about Jared.
Jensen puts on a good front, saying he hasn't seen Jared in almost a year, but Sully quietly tells Jensen that he'd kept track of the traffic on Jared's door. "Did you really think nobody would notice an extra door plugged into our mainframe?"
Jensen sighs. "Caught." He puts his fork down. "But I really haven't visited him in weeks. I learned my lesson." He smiles lightly at Sully. "But see, I'm just as worried about our employees as I am about the kids. They can't stay friends with their wards forever." He laughs. "I don't know if we could afford all the worker's comp for emotional distress."
Sully chews thoughtfully. "It sounds like you're speaking from personal experience," he says.
Jensen shrugs.
"You and Jared had a different story, though, didn't you?"
Jensen laughs. "Well, yeah. He was a teenager. Way less lovable."
****
The truth is, Jensen had needed to quit cold turkey. It had taken him a little while to realize that, human though they both might be, his and Jared's friendship wasn't built to last. Jensen couldn't sacrifice everything else in his life just to hold on to a good buddy. He knew that.
It makes him think of Jared again, though, that conversation.
He asks Mike about the door while they’re walking out of a meeting. If it was still where Jensen had left it.
Mike hustles him into the nearest private space, checks to make sure there are no feet or tentacles or flippers occupying the toilet stalls. He hops up onto the counter, stands so he’s at eye level with Jensen. “Jensen. Buddy. Tell me you’re not thinking about going back to see that A-level chump again.”
Jensen shrugs. “What’s the harm in looking in on him?”
“There’s plenty of harm! Oceans of it! Planets!”
Jensen sets his jaw, turns on the faucet next to Mike, washes his hands.
Mike sighs. He puts a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, tentative, careful with his talons. “Have you said anything to Sully?”
Jensen shakes his head.
Mike looks at Jensen in the mirror, analytical. Seeing all the ways Jensen is different. Jensen remembers that look from when he was just a kid, the way it had used to make him angry. He’d glued fur to his face for months.
It’s easier now to stand it. Mike is honest to a fault, every emotion on his sleeve. Still. “Stop looking at me like that,” Jensen says.
“You know, Sully, he didn’t mean to take you away. He’s never stopped feeling guilty about it; I don’t know what it is, a family thing, probably--the way his grandmother could make you sorry, whoo!” He puts his hands on his hips, a rickety smile under his eye. “But once you were here, Sully went all in. The big galoot always said it was you who chose him.”
“Never let it be said that Mike Wazowski couldn’t charm a fourth wish from a genie.” Jensen dries his hands on his pants, swipes them over his ass. “You would like Jared,” he says. “He’d laugh at your jokes.”
“Okay.” Mike throws up his hands. He hops off the counter, looks down to say to his feet, “Jensen, a guy gets used to having you around. I did.” He heads toward the door. “I’ll leave the door active,” he calls over his shoulder, toenails clicking on the tile.
****
Jensen walks down hallways. Their familiarity's faded a little, but he's in front of Jared's door and the red light over it is glowing as usual. He almost knocks.
Jared's awake and bent over his keyboard. His back is broader than Jensen remembers, the sleeves fitting a little tighter.
Jensen had planned on barging in like he used to, collapsing onto Jared's bed and kicking his feet up, but Jared has a new comforter, something in blocks of blue and red, and--the whole room looks different. Older.
Jensen closes the closet door quietly behind him, rocks back on his heels and spreads his arms out wide. "Boo," he says.
Jared jumps up out of his chair, literally spins in the air.
"Whoa," Jensen says. "Agile."
Jared points. "You. You scared the shit out of me."
Jensen can't help but laugh. "I'm sorry," he says.
Jared leans over, bracing his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He shakes his head, then straightens, strides over and crushes Jensen into a hug.
He's a lot taller than Jensen remembers. More expressive, too. This is probably the first time they've ever hugged. "Okay," Jensen says, patting Jared's side.
Jared steps back, but his hands stay on Jensen's shoulders, holding Jensen firmly as he takes a good look. "I was beginning to think I really did make you up."
"You got big," Jensen says.
"I doubted my mental health for a few weeks there."
"Why is your face like that?" Jensen asks.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"You're talking a lot," Jensen says. He doesn't know why he feels so suspicious.
Jared laughs, and Jensen notes the straight whiteness of his teeth, the way his laugh almost booms from some newly discovered reservoir. "You have good timing. It's my birthday."
"Is it?" Jensen asks.
"It is. I'm eighteen now." He drops his hands suddenly, and Jensen can feel the warmth dissipating, too fast.
"Happy birthday!" Jensen says.
"You don't sound like you mean it," Jared says.
"I do." Jensen grins, ignoring the sweet little drop in his stomach. "You're an adult now."
Jared smiles huge. He claps his hands together. "Can you believe it?"
Jensen laughs. "I don't know if the world's ready."
Jared chuckles. He swings his arms back and forth, then finally sits on the bed, tapping the space next to him. "So tell me everything, dude. What've you been up to? Where have you been? Did you meet the three-eyed man of your dreams?"
"You've changed a lot," Jensen says. "In a good way," he adds quickly.
Jared laughs, runs one hand down the front of his shirt, nose wrinkled. "You think?"
"Not just--" Jensen swallows, suddenly nervous. His mouth feels dry. "You seem really happy. Kind of comfortable in your skin, you know?"
Jared smiles. "Thanks. I guess I blossomed. People always said it would happen. I feel good."
Jensen sits down next to Jared. There's barely enough space for the two of them on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad," Jensen says.
Jared nods, waiting for Jensen to pick up the conversation, but Jensen can't seem to get his act together, the room feeling very small, his sweater confining.
He remembers how furiously Jared had been typing when he came in and he looks up at the computer. "You seemed busy when I came in," Jensen says. "Maybe I should get going."
"No, man," Jared says. "It's just homework. It's not even due tomorrow."
"Are you sure?" Jensen asks.
"Definitely." Jared leans over and roots around under the bed, comes up with two video game controllers. "Look who got another controller for his birthday." He waggles his eyebrows.
It's a relief, and Jensen laughs, thankful for the mindless company that Call of Duty allows. He leaves after a round, though, making something up about needing to check in with Roz and the CDA, and it's only after he goes through the door that he feels like he can breathe.
He closes the door behind him, studying his shoes. When he looks up, Sully is standing in front of him, a clipboard in his hands.
"Things are different for you," Sully says. He'd been waiting. "You're lovesick."
****
Which, actually, makes things simpler. The next step after discovering one loves somebody is to then tell that person. Sure, you could kill some time between the two points by conflicted inaction--to tell or not to tell, that is the question--but Jensen's always thought it best, when found in a sea of trouble, to take up arms. It’s the pragmatist in him.
"So, anyway," Jensen wraps up. "I like you."
Jared's sitting up really straight at the foot of his bed.
"In the spirit of full disclosure, there's a possibility it could tip toward love territory. But I'm going to hold onto that word until after I find out whether or not you're going to shut me down." Jensen's pretty anxious. He sounds like he's reading from a Powerpoint presentation, he knows, but he can't really help it.
Jared nods. He scratches the bridge of his nose. "That's big news," he says.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Take some time, if you need. That's understandable." He rocks back on his heels, chews on his lip.
"I'm kind of--" Jared shakes his head, like he's clearing it of cobwebs. He looks up, smiling ruefully. "I don't even know if I'm gay, Jensen."
"Yeah," Jensen says. "You're a late-bloomer. I think that might be your thing." He looks away decidedly, doing his best not to give Jared the next in what's already been a long series of look-overs.
Jared snorts. "Just tell me I grew up good, already; get all the creepy out of your system."
"Hey," Jensen says. "In my defense, you're at least one growth spurt and fifteen pounds away from the Jared I first met."
Jared sighs, pokes at his bicep. "I'm still the twiggiest guy on my team, you know that?" He pokes it harder. "Grow, damn you, grow."
"Oh, good," Jensen says. "A more important conversation has come along to replace the bullshit we were swapping earlier."
Jared laughs. "It's so nice to be loved," he says.
Jensen doesn't know what to do with his hands. He leans forward. "Is it?" he asks. He wants to know.
****
They talk about it a little longer after that, but Jared seems a little skittish. He still makes Jensen stick around for a few episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but Jensen sneaks out when Jared falls asleep halfway through the last one and once Jensen's back in Monstropolis, he starts to beat himself up.
"Hey," Sully says, pressing the call button for the elevator in the company lobby the next morning, "Don't get stuck inside your head. I've learned it's best not to overthink things."
"Ha," Mike says. "A lesson you unequivocally took to heart. Your head's emptier than the beauty salon floor the day of Celia's annual visit."
"You can't change what you said in that room. Let it be." Sully pats Jensen gently on the shoulder.
Jensen nods, walks into the elevator that just sprang open, jabs at the button for the 13th floor. He lasts until the doors close before blurting out, "I put too much pressure on him, though, right? What happens if he says yes? If he feels the way I do?" He falls against the back wall of the elevator. "I'm serious, what happens next?"
Sully clears his throat, looks away, studying the deepest recesses of the top corners of the elevator box.
Mike taps one foot. "You hold hands? Exchange a smooch or two? The moon, dinner, candlelight." He swoons. "It's the stuff of fairy tales."
Jensen clenches his jaw, staring straight ahead, shaking his head slightly. "I just--I couldn't ask him to come to Monstropolis." He's worried. "Really, the only realistic play is for me to leave here."
Sully makes this small noise in the back of his throat, and it pricks Jensen, lets out all of his air.
"You'd really go?" Mike asks.
"I don't know," Jensen says. "Could I make Jared a reason to leave my whole life behind? He's still a kid."
Sully bumps Jensen's shoulder with his own. "You're still a kid."
The elevator door opens. "Yeah," Jensen says, looking down at his shoes. He steps over.
****
He gives Jared more than a few days to think. Truthfully, it's as much for his own sake as it is Jared's. He hadn't realized how terrifying it might be to get a real, honest-to-god answer. 'No' feels more knowable in a way: If Jared isn't interested, if he just wants to be friends, then the status quo is fine. Jensen will stay in Monstropolis, the city he'd grown up in, and Jared will grow up and go off to college. And maybe Jensen would peek into his room during the holidays, when Jared was home from school; they'd share a few laughs, some egg-nog, and fill each other in on their separate lives. It could be nice.
Jensen spends most of his time worrying about what will happen if Jared says yes. "First off," he tells Roz, "I don't know anything about making a life there. How am I going to get a job? I don't have school records that could transfer over."
"Of course you do," she rasps. "You've been an irrepressible source of paperwork for me since the day you stowed away on Sully's inobservant back."
"Do you actually do paperwork?" Jensen asks.
"I am more of a take action kind of gal," Roz monotones.
Jensen leans on the counter of her station, both elbows planted on the formica. "I don't think I could do it," he says. "Say goodbye to my life here. I've heard the stories about Bigfoot. If there's any truth to it, he's not handling banishment all that well."
"There's a difference between exile and emigration." Roz says. She slithers to the back of her office, files away the last few folders of the day. "About twenty pages of paperwork, for one." She slams the cabinet closed, makes her way back to the service window. "We're not separate worlds, genius. Yetis, closet doors, North Poles. Don't waste your time with maudlin."
Her tone of voice is the polar opposite of sentimental, and it makes Jensen smile. He pokes his head through the window of the Plexiglas partition. "I'd miss you, Roz."
"Ha!" She shoos him back with a flick of her wrist, rasps, "Watch your head," slams the window shut.
Door One, Part Two