J2 Big Bang Fic: Hewitched Part 2

[lizzywinks]

Back to Chapter 1

"Yo, Jaybird!" The shout is far louder than it needs to be considering the source seems to be about eight inches from Jared's ear. He winces, and then winces again as a large hand slaps his ass, painful even through two layers of material.

"Chad," he tries to sound welcoming, but it's hard even though he's not entirely unhappy about being interrupted. It's Jensen's first day, and Jared had been in the process of showing him around the set, which had started out fun, but quickly spiraled into annoying. Practically every person they'd run into had been super chatty, inviting Jensen out to bars and trying to winkle out details of his life from him; which shows had he worked on before, was he married, and where did he hang out outside of work? While Jared was relieved the rest of the crew were eager to make Jensen welcome, he didn't need an assistant who spent more time socializing than assisting. In any case, most of them were probably only pretending to be interested in an attempt to suck up to Jared. Jared would actually be doing Jensen a favor by clueing him in before he ended up getting used.

So relieved as Jared is to cut the tour short, he hadn't really wanted Jensen to meet Chad yet. Partly because he hasn't gotten around to telling Chad that he's already found his own assistant, but mostly because just knowing Chad kind of puts Jared in a bad light. The fact that he actually pays him a significant percentage of his earnings to be his manager? Yeah, Jared doesn't come out of that introduction well, no matter how he spins it.

"Good to see you, man," Jared finally settles on, and takes a deep breath in preparation for the introduction. Chad, though, beats him to the punch.

"You too. Hey, dude," Chad says to Jensen, "how about you go grab me a coffee, and maybe one of those pastry things; the little ones with nuts and the gloopy frosting shit? Jay, you know the ones I mean?" he turns to ask. Jared shakes his head, ready to try again, but Chad shrugs him off. "Never mind, look just bring back something with frosting, okay, and if you see something with frosting and nuts, you've hit the jackpot."

Jensen closes the little red book he'd been making notes in and frowns over at Chad. "Shit," Chad says in a not very quiet undertone, "is he just dumb, or doesn't he speak English?"

"Dammit, Chad," Jared hisses. He's keeping a close eye on Jensen, who thankfully doesn't seem particularly offended. "Stop being a dick. This is Jensen," but Jared breaks off when out of the corner of his eye he spies a tiny redhead teetering into view on heels that look like they would topple a drag queen. He holds his breath in desperate hope, and bites back a groan when she continues on her course toward them.

Chad follows his gaze to see what's captured his attention and beams delightedly. "Here she is! Jay, this is Melissa-your new assistant! Melissa, honey, this is Jared Padalecki. Don't be intimidated-he's really just a pussycat when you get to know him."

Melissa laughs loudly, and beside him Jared hears Jensen murmur, "Pussycat?"

Jared glares briefly into laughing green eyes, and then straightens his shoulders, turning to face Chad. "Chad, I'm sorry, but actually, I don't need an assistant."

"What?" Chad snorts. "Course you do, Jaybird; who's going to do all the boring crap you don't have time for if you don't have an assistant? No offense, honey," he says as a quick aside to Melissa, who giggles away his apology. "Shit, man, you'd starve to death without someone to book tables at restaurants for you-I'm amazed you've lasted almost a week without Genevieve. Oh, and thanks for cock-blocking me with her by the way. I want all the sordid details later," he mutters, except Chad's muttering basically just means that the people across the room might have a tiny bit of trouble making out every word.

Jared feels a bloom of heat begin to build at the base of his throat when he catches Jensen eyeing him thoughtfully. Melissa giggles again, hand pressed coyly to her mouth, and suddenly Jared is desperate to wrest back some control.

"Chad, I'm serious, I don't need an assistant. Melissa, I'm sorry you've had your time wasted but the position is already filled."

"Are you screwing around with me? Who's your assistant-hold on a second there, Jay; don't tell me you hired that creepy little PA? Seriously, Jared, that guy is one step away from stealing your toenail clippings for his shrine, and you want to give him free rein to your house?"

Jared can't really argue with that one, but he's not going to admit it and he's getting ready to set Chad straight when there's the sound of something heavy falling behind them, followed immediately by a muffled yelp of pain. The four of them turn as one to watch Gabe disappearing around a corner, leg shaking frantically with every other step in an attempt to kick free of the tangle of cabling that has somehow become wrapped around an ankle.

Chad raises an eyebrow meaningfully. "Jared, you know I love you like a brother, and despite our current little blip, I'm eternally grateful for the fact that your box office numbers mean I can afford to dress in the designer clothes that makes me look so damn good, but don't think for a second that I'm gonna be running to your rescue when that little Gollum goes all Misery on your ass."

"He's perfectly safe," Jared says, hoping he sounds more certain than he feels. "And, anyway, Gabe isn't my new assistant; Jensen is." Beside him, Jensen lifts a hand in awkward greeting, and Melissa waves enthusiastically back.

"Well, when the fuck did you hire him?" Chad demands. "I've been searching day and night to find you the perfect assistant and you couldn't take five fucking minutes to let me know you don't need one?"

"Chad, you just had your assistant do all the work, so don't try to guilt me. And Jensen is actually Danneel's cousin," he adds quickly when he can see Chad winding up to bitch some more.

"Danneel?" Chad sucks his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, and then seems to come to a decision. He squares his shoulders and turns to face Jensen. "Guess this is really turning into a family affair. So, Jason-"

"Jensen," Jared and Jensen correct in unison.

"-Yeah, Jensen, like I said, have you got much experience?"

Jensen shoots a vaguely hunted look at Jared. Jared tries to project reassurance and confidence, which Jensen must pick up on because he turns back to Chad with a shrug. "Some."

Melissa lets out a little purr of approval. "I bet you do."

"Hey, Melissa," Jared says, "just so you haven't had a completely wasted journey, can I maybe offer you lunch?"

"Wow, um, yes, that would be wonderful!" Melissa immediately turns away from Jensen, and Jared feels a little stab of satisfaction. He gestures to a passing PA who hurries to his side. Jared doesn't recognize the man, so he smiles brightly to make up for it. He suspects that less than half a day into his new job, Jensen knows the PA's name. Jared should probably make more of an effort to get to know the crew. Maybe he'll take photos of them all, add notes to his phone like Jensen does in his little book. Jared memorizes stuff for a living; it's not like it would be difficult for him.

But for now, "Hey, man, do you think you can take Melissa here over to crafting and make sure she gets something to eat, please?"

"Oh, but I thought-"

"It was really great to meet you," Jared says, hand shoved out in front of him.

Melissa hesitates and then reaches out to shake it, a crestfallen expression on her face. "It was good to meet you, too. I'm sorry we won't be working together."

"Yeah, me too. Never say never though, right?" Jared gives her a smile that has decorated billboards and magazine covers across the world, and Melissa looks gratifyingly slack-jawed.

Jared glances over at Jensen to see if he's noticed the affect Jared's had, but Jensen's not even looking in his direction. Slightly disappointed, he turns back to Melissa to find her smile has faltered, and the look she's directing toward Jared now is less awe-struck and more piqued. Jared's gaze narrows when she reaches into her bag and pulls out a card that she presses into Jensen's palm.

"It was good to meet you, Jensen," she says, eyes fixed warm and interested on Jensen's. "If you feel like getting together some time-?"

Her offer is interrupted by a bellowing call from across the set for the PA Jared had co-opted in his efforts to get rid of Melissa.

"I can take you if George is busy," Jensen offers, proving, of course, that he does already know everyone's name. "I was on my way there anyway to get coffee for everyone. And pastries," he adds when Chad opens his mouth. There isn't much Jared can do but stand back and watch as Melissa clutches Jensen's arm to be shepherded gently out of sight.

By the time it's just the two of them again, Chad is the one looking pissed, glaring at Jared like he's just spit in his beer.

"Fuck, cock-blocked twice in the space of a week! What the hell, man-she was eating out of my hand right up until you handed her off to your pretty-boy assistant!"

"I didn't hand her off to anyone, Jensen was just doing his job," Jared says tightly, because Jensen had been pretty damn eager. Jared has never considered himself a hardass particularly when it comes to his assistants, but, seriously, it's Jensen's first day; he shouldn't be disappearing on him like this to hit on women.

"They're probably fucking like bunnies even as we speak," Chad says morosely. "That should be me, Jared, I should be the bunny fucker. Do you know how long it's been since I got laid?" he demands.

"A day?" Jared hazards. Maybe they should head over to craft services themselves, grab Chad's pastry. It might be the only way to shut him up.

"Yeah, very funny. Try ten days. That's only three days away from my record dry spell when I fell off that contortionist and broke a bone in my ass. Jesus Christ that was painful, but the drugs..." Chad's eyes fall shut in remembered pleasure. "Best I've ever had. Shit, I was totally whacked out of my gourd. You remember that, Jared?"

"I remember. Do you remember how much you had to pay the nursing agency so they'd drop that lawsuit?"

Chad scowls. "Too fucking much. Also, I thought we agreed we were never going to talk about that again."

Jared raises his hands in apology. Chad doesn't seem appeased. Maybe it's the huge shit-eating grin Jared's making no attempt to wipe from his face.

"Yeah, laugh it up, Padalecki, because you're heading in the same direction."

"What? No, I'm not. Why would you say that?"

"That Harris guy? I mean, c'mon, how is that not gonna end badly?"

"I-What?" Jared pushes down the unpleasant cold jolt that runs through him at Chad's words. "Of course it won't, because there's nothing to end badly," he says firmly. "And it's Ackles; Danni's mother and Jensen's mother are sisters."

"Exactly my point! When do you ever know this kind of shit about anyone, let alone an assistant? Look, I get it," Chad adds when Jared fumbles for a response. "Things have been fucked up lately. Your last three movies flopped and right now you're about as welcome at the box office as a fart in a phone booth. But, Jaybird, trust me, this is just a temporary setback. Before you know it you'll be back on the big screen and all this will be just a bad memory."

"I know that, I just don't know what it has to do with knowing my assistant's last name."

"Because this isn't camp, Jared. You're not here to be the nice guy, you're not here to make friends; this is just a means to an end." Chad reaches up to drape an arm that doesn't quite reach over Jared's shoulders and turns him so they're facing the frantic bustle of the crew spread out in front of them. "You're like a bird with a broken wing right now; it's fixable, but you can't let anyone know you're damaged. You gotta make everyone think the only reason you're walking instead of flying is because you're enjoying the change of pace. Because, trust me, if any one of these assholes scents weakness, they will fuck you over in a heartbeat. A heartbeat, man."

Jared shakes his head. "Jensen wouldn't-"

"Jensen would. You want a buddy to cry into your beer with? Give Shia LaBeouf a call. You want someone to pick up your dry cleaning and fix your coffee? Then Jensen is your man. Just stick to the game plan, Jay, and don't start mixing business and pleasure."

The words Jensen and pleasure in such close proximity send a weird curl of mingled fear and some other less easily identifiable emotion through Jared's gut. It's the second one that bothers him the most, so he's extra careful to ignore it.

"Firstly, Shia LaBeouf? Please. And secondly, actors make shitty friends, man," Jared shoots back, because it's true-he has plenty of acquaintances. The acting world is pretty closed off, especially at Jared's level, and it's relatively small enough that everyone pretty much has at least a passing knowledge of everyone else. Friendships, however-real ones and not just convenient ones to be played up in front of the camera-are few and far between. Jared doesn’t even have old and trusted childhood friends to fall back on because apart from one brief blip he doesn't really like to remember, he'd been modeling since preschool, right up to his first acting job.

"Look," he says, patiently as he can manage, "I hired my own assistant. I don't see what the problem is; it's not like he's some random dude off the street."

"The problem, Jared, is that you barely know the guy, and, like it or not, most civilians have an agenda beyond earning a pay check when they come into contact with a celebrity, especially someone as high profile as you."

"Jensen isn't like that," Jared says firmly. "And, anyway, he's Danni's cousin."

"Jaybird, we don't know the first fucking thing about her. And, for the record, they're all like that."

Jared stares down at Chad through narrowed eyes. "Even you?"

Chad stretches his arms out wide, not a hint of shame in his expression. "Man, especially me. In fact, I'm a little hurt that you don't know that."

Jared sighs. "I'll be careful."

"Yeah, you do that. Meanwhile, I'll have your lawyer courier out all the standard confidentially contracts."

Jared nods. "Okay."

"Make sure he signs them, Jared."

"I will."

"Jared."

"I said I will," Jared huffs. "It's not like I have anything interesting going on in my life he could take to the press anyway."

Chad's lips twist. "Lies always sell better than the truth."

Jared isn't about to argue with him on that one.



Jared sinks down with a sigh onto his chair and runs a weary hand through his hair. He's been on set since before dawn, and they've had maybe one solid hour of filming in the last ten, one problem after another causing the director to call cut. The most recent spectacular failure involved a disappearing and reappearing ostrich that Darrin and Samantha had been cursed with by her mother Endora, that they had to keep hidden from their non-magical guests.

Apparently, it cost less to have a real ostrich than to CGI one in later. Whatever money they saved, Jared's pretty sure it wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, a two-hundred-pound, eight-foot bird with a bad attitude and a brain the size of its own eye isn't ideally suited to a TV set. Who knew? Something else Jared, and apparently no one else in the crew had known: ostriches kicked when spooked. Not backward like a horse, but forward, like an overgrown toddler in the middle of a temper tantrum.

Right now, the ostrich's owner is yelling at the director, threatening to have his bird removed from the set if they can't guarantee a calm, nonthreatening work space for him. The unfortunate lighting guy who's the cause of the latest interruption is hunched over, groaning and dry heaving, an ice pack gingerly pressed to his groin.

Around him the set is in chaos. Jared sighs. It's what he hates most about acting; the frustration of working to someone else's schedule and fuck-ups.

He's just considering sneaking in a quick nap until everything blows over, when the scent of fresh coffee announces the arrival of Jensen. Jared feels some of the tensions of the day slip away, and the thought of sleep is abruptly the farthest thing from his mind.

Jared likes having a guy for an assistant. He likes having Jensen for an assistant. Chad had been right. It is kind of like having a buddy on set, which is great until Jared remembers that he's paying Jensen, and then the pleasure dims a little. Not enough for Jared to be regretting his decision though.

"Hey, boss," Jensen greets, holding out his mug filled with steaming coffee. Jared mumbles his thanks and takes a cautious sip and sighs. It's perfect, as usual.

"Jensen, I've told you, 'Jared' is fine," he reminds him. It's harder to convince himself Jensen would still be hanging around without a paycheck at the end of the week if Jensen doesn't even call him by his first name.

Jensen sketches a quick salute. "Sure thing, boss."

"Asshole," Jared mutters, hiding his grin behind his cup.

"Thank you, sir, I do my best."

Jared scowls and Jensen watches him, eyes gleaming with silent amusement, until the sound of stamping ostrich feet gains Jensen's attention. Jared lets out a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding when Jensen glances over at the train wreck in front of them. Jensen's lips purse in a silent whistle.

"Huh. Who would have thought bringing a giant, territorial bird with poor peripheral vision, razor-sharp beak, and a tendency to spook at the slightest sound onto a noisy TV set would end badly?"

Jared laughs, delighted. "I know, right? It's like they've never even seen Jurassic Park."

Jensen turns back toward him, head tilted questioningly.

"The movie, Jurassic Park? Richard Attenborough? Sam Neill? Jeff Goldblum? Incredibly cool dinosaurs running amok in a prehistoric theme park?" It's almost impossible to believe, but there's no mistaking Jensen's blank stare. "You've never seen it?" he demands, already knowing the answer.

Jensen shrugs awkwardly. "Never even heard of it. I don't, um, really watch many movies."

There's something a little off in the way Jensen's refusing to meet his eyes, and Jared narrows his gaze. "Many?"

"Yeah, okay," Jensen admits sulkily. "Any."

"Wow, that's... I don't know, kinda unnatural." Jensen frowns, and Jared pulls his lips tight so the threatening smile doesn't break free. "On the plus side, I'd totally kick your ass at Jeopardy." Jensen's frown fades, a quickly masked confusion taking its place. "And, you've never heard of Jeopardy either, have you?"

Jensen raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Um, no. I guess this is the kind of thing an assistant to a TV star should know?"

But Jared is barely aware of the edge of worry in Jensen's voice, because something else has just occurred to him. "Oh my god!" he breathes. "You don't even know who I am, do you?"

"What? Of course I do! I'm not crazy!"

"No, I mean who I am, the movies I've made, the stories in the press about me..." he trails off, lost in thought. It's been so long since he's met someone who has no preconceived ideas about him, he doesn't know how to react. He's lived his life in a bubble for more years than he can remember, and he's used to the fact by now. It barely even occurs to him anymore that pretty much every random stranger he meets in the street knows as much about him as generally only friends and family would know about anyone else.

Jensen though, doesn't know that Jared's last three movies bombed, that Last Year in Katmandu was the only DVD ever to sell zero copies, and that he's had, and broken up with, five fiancées in six years and never once made it to the altar.

To Jensen, Jared is a blank canvas. It's surprising how appealing that realization is.

Jensen is still watching him uncertainly, and Jared grins. "You know what? It doesn't matter. In fact, maybe it's better."

Jensen raises an eyebrow, cautious relief flaring in his eyes. "Yeah? How so?"

"Because you have much to learn, young Padawan, and who better to guide you than one of film's-and soon to be TV's-biggest and brightest stars. I'm talking about me," he adds sourly when Jensen doesn't seem particularly enlightened.

"Oh." Jensen's gaze rakes him from head to toe. Jared shuffles, skin uncomfortably tight. "You are big," he finally allows, smile curling at the edge of his lips.

"You forgot brightest."

Jensen whips out a pair of aviator sunglasses, seemingly from thin air, and slides them onto his face. "Goes without saying, boss."

Jared's come-back would have been killer, he's sure, if it hadn't been interrupted by the mass set evacuation when the pissed-off ostrich took matters into its own claws and made a break for it.



A week later, and things are starting to settle down with the show. By some miracle, they haven't been closed down by the American Humane Society, and the first episode filmed in front of an actual live audience had been one of the most amazing-and terrifying-experiences of Jared's life. In fact, Jared doesn't know why he ever thought working in TV was a bad idea.

Of course, he's big enough to admit some of the satisfaction he's feeling might have more to do with his new assistant than any real love of back-to-back filming schedules, endless days, and barely enough time to draw breath before the director's calling 'cut' and they're on to the next scene.

He takes a sip of the liquid ambrosia Jensen slides into his hand, and lets out a soft moan of pleasure. Or maybe it's all just down to the coffee.

"Um, okay," Jensen says stiffly. Jared opens eyes he hadn't realized had fallen shut to find Jensen watching him, cheeks flushed a dull red. Jared looks down at the loose, porn star sprawl he's fallen into in his chair, and bolts upright, pulling his legs tight together as he goes. He feels matching color flood his own face, and wipes hastily at the side of his mouth to make sure he isn't actually drooling.

Jensen relaxes at the sight, and Jared feels his own unnaturally stiff pose ease back into something more comfortable.

"Everything is done," Jensen says as if there's been no interruption, "but the dog groomer had some kind of emergency and Sadie and Harley's appointment got pushed back to eight. Should I bring them here after or...?"

It takes all of Jared's-not inconsiderable, even if he does say so himself-skills as an actor to keep the satisfaction from showing on his face, because this is just the opportunity he's been waiting for. Jensen's role so far has been pretty much restricted to on-set assisting and running errands, and even though it's work, it's been fun. But Jared can't help but think how much cooler it would be to hang out with Jensen off the set, maybe watch a game, have a few beers.

After what happened with Genevieve, though, he's been feeling kind of weird about actually inviting Jensen out, even though he knows it's hardly going to go down the same way.

The thing is, acting's a lonely gig. Chad's always been against him hanging out with the crew socially because of how it might affect his image, and the majority of his actor friends either have schedules as tough as his or are shooting outside of LA. Jensen isn't crew, and his schedule is pretty much a mirror-image of Jared's, so having Jensen as a friend just makes sense.

As a result, he's spent the past week dropping careful hints, and keeping an eye out for opportunities to get together outside of work, without actually letting on to Jensen what he's doing.

Jensen dropping his pets off at his house is the perfect excuse. When Jensen arrives, it would be rude not to casually invite him in for a beer, and if Jared also happens to have more food than he can eat by himself ready at about the same time, it just makes sense that Jensen hang around to share it with him. Jared carefully ignores the big flashing 'You're being weird!' sirens sounding in his head, and turns casually toward Jensen.

"Probably be easier if you dropped them off at my house," he says. "We should be finished here by then, and there's no point getting Marie to wait here for you just to take them straight on home anyway." Marie, his dog walker, is an extremely capable, slightly stern forty-year-old who walks his dogs like they're on a military training exercise, and Jared has absolutely zero desire to ever share a beer with her. "You know my address, right?"

Jensen pats at his pockets and pulls out his red leather book that he leafs through quickly. The thing is so small, Jared has no idea how he keeps finding room to write all of his many notes in it, let alone read them back afterward.

"Yep," Jensen says, pausing on a page. "Um, did you say the guard has to let me through?"

"Don't worry, I've left your name at the front gate already." Jared carefully doesn't mention that he'd done it the same day he'd hired Jensen. Just in case Jensen ever wanted to drop by.

"Call me when you get there, okay? Sometimes the doorbell can be sticky."

Jensen nods and makes another note in his little book, and then tucks it carefully away in a back pocket.

Jared watches it vanish with dislike, because he kind of hates Jensen's book. It makes him feel like he's a chore, an entry on a to-do list that Jensen ticks off at the end of every working day before he heads off to his own life and his own friends whom he doesn't have to make notes about to remember. "You've got the cell I ordered for you, right?" he asks, mostly to distract himself from his grim thoughts.

Jensen grimaces, and reaches into the same back pocket to pull out the phone, careful enough that he looks like he's auditioning for a part in The Hurt Locker. When he's extracted it from his pocket, he holds it out away from his body to gingerly pry open the clam shell style phone. Jared's pretty sure Jensen's holding his breath as the screen springs to life. His suspicions are confirmed when Jensen lets out a relieved puff of air. "Yeah, still got it," he says. The BlackBerry is a bright, snazzy red in Jensen's hand, gleaming under the studio lights. Jared could have sworn he ordered black. When Jensen moves to ease it closed again, Jared reaches over to grab his wrist.

"You know that thing's perfectly safe, right?" he asks. "There's no chance you're going to lose a hand switching it on."

"I know," Jensen says instantly. At that, the phone begins to hum, and it's only when Jared feels the slight vibration though his fingertips that he realizes he's still holding on to Jensen's wrist. He releases him immediately, gaze flashing up to Jensen's face to see if he's picked up on the unintentional groping.

Jensen, however, has all of his attention focused on the cell phone, eyes narrowed suspiciously as it begins to trill the announcement of an incoming message. "Dammit," he mutters, flipping the phone closed with a flick of his wrist, and ramming it back into his pocket with a violent motion.

"Wow, I guess that was a call you didn't want to take?" Jared asks, eyebrows raised. He's still waiting for Jensen to respond, when something else occurs to Jared. "Wait, who even has your number yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Just my mom. She worries, you know what it's like." Jared doesn't, not really. Not for a long time. He shakes the vague feeling of melancholy resolutely away; it's nothing new.

"Guess you shouldn't have given her the number right off the bat," he says, grinning at Jensen's hunted expression. It really is kind of cute that Jensen is obviously a mama's boy, however reluctant.

Jensen makes a small huffing sound of disparagement. "Like that'd do any good," he mutters, and waves away Jared's questioning glance.



By the time Jensen's call comes through announcing they're just pulling into Jared's drive, Jared is feeling weirdly hyper, like he's about to go on a first date. An incredibly important first date. He knows he's being stupid, but the knowledge isn't enough to stop him careening around his already spotless house, fluffing pillows, checking for dust his housekeeper might have missed, and arranging for pizza to be delivered. It's currently keeping warm in the oven, ready to be pulled out and left casually on the kitchen counter as though Jensen and the delivery guy missed each other by seconds.

The sound of the doorbell ringing has Jared wiping his sweaty palms down the front of his jeans and straightening his shirt. He's wearing flip-flops, and when he glances down, he's suddenly struck by the fact that his left big toe is incredibly hairy. Has it always been like that? He's frozen with indecision over whether he should change into sneakers to hide Chewbacca's baby brother who's apparently attached himself to his toe, when the doorbell rings again. There's a brief pause, and then Jensen immediately starts hammering at the door. Crap. Jensen as always, had been paying attention when Jared warned him about the-fake-sticky bell, but now the racket he's making means that any second now the dogs will be-

On cue, Harley and Sadie begin howling to be let in, and Jared's forced to abandon his flip-flops versus sneakers dilemma to sprint out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He doesn't want Jensen ready to leave before Jared even has chance to invite him in.

To add insult to injury, the flip-flops make running almost impossible, and he's limping, and very slightly out of breath by the time he reaches the foyer, as much from nerves as exertion. He makes an effort to even out his breathing before he drags the door open to reveal Jensen crouched on the ground, attempting to calm the dogs with soft murmurs.

"Hey," Jared says, bending down to offer his own apologies to his babies. "Glad you found me okay." From the new position, Jared is at eye-level for once with Jensen, and he can't help but notice the length of those soot-black lashes framing Jensen's bright green eyes. "Do you get your eyelashes dyed?" he hears himself ask, with absolutely no authorization from his brain. "I just wondered because they're really dark and your hair is pretty light. Comparatively, I mean..."

Jared trails off when Jensen's eyes widen into bewilderment. "Dye them? Um, no, why would I-" Jensen pauses, then stares closely back at Jared who's fighting the annoying flush of embarrassment that's itching to crawl it's way up his neck. "Do you dye yours?"

"No." Jared stands stiffly. He pats Sadie's head one last time as she nuzzles briefly at his knee, and then troops off into the house with Harley at her heels. "They're already dark enough, but you know, it's pretty common. Curling them, too, I mean, permanently not just with... eyelash curlers."

Jensen nods seriously, also back on his feet. "Okay, well, thanks for the beauty tips. Next time I'm at the salon, I'll be sure to ask."

Jared snorts, and leans in to shoulder check Jensen. "You can mock, but manscaping-painful and therefore manly manscaping-is just one of the many sacrifices you have to make if you want to be a world famous actor."

"Is that true?"

Jared shrugs, a little thrown by Jensen's serious tone. "Um, yeah, pretty much? I mean, character actors and Mickey Rourke kind of get a free pass-"

"No, I mean are you really world famous? If I walked in to a store in Hong Kong and told the guy behind the counter I worked for Jared Padalecki, would he know who you were?"

"Oh, well, I don't know for sure, and dude, I'm gonna have to veto any trips to China on your expense account to find out, but yeah, probably. Um, I think I play pretty well out there."

"Huh."

Jared scratches at his arm and tries to wait patiently, because Jensen seems to be mulling over something important, but he's not used to having to be patient, so he reaches out and pokes at Jensen's elbow with his fingertip. When Jensen's gaze lifts to lock with his, Jared raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's nothing," Jensen says slowly. "I was just thinking that that must actually kind of suck."

Jared frowns, vaguely offended, and Jensen quickly shakes his head. "I mean you can't just go to the park or go out and grab a beer. I'm pretty sure I would hate that."

Considering those were exactly the kind of things Jared was thinking about asking Jensen to do, it's not the most promising start to the night. Convincing Jensen that yes, he can actually leave his house without getting mobbed, is suddenly hugely important. "No, dude, it's not that bad. No one expects to see famous people wandering around doing the same normal things they do, so they mostly assume I'm just some guy who kind of looks like a really tall Jared Padalecki. Also, sometimes I wear a disguise."

"Like Spider-Man?"

"Yes, but with significantly less spandex. Hey, wait, I thought you said you didn't watch movies?"

Jensen blinks. "They made a movie about Spider-Man?"

"Yes. Yes they did." Jared fiddles awkwardly with a loose thread on his cuff. "Um, I had a pizza delivered just before you got here, should still be hot," he says, cringing a little inside. "You up for a slice?" Jensen looks uncertain, and Jared reminds himself firmly that he's Jared goddamn Padalecki. People would pay to spend an evening with him. Which doesn't mean he's too proud to stoop to bribery, even if it does rob him of his appetite a little. "We could watch Spider-Man while we eat?"

Jensen's eyes light up. Bingo.

::

Jared leaves Jensen in the media room while he goes to grab his most expensive beers out of the fridge and some napkins to go with the pizza. When he opens the stove door though, no warm blast of heat hits him, and he takes off the oven mitt to tap gingerly at the metal grill the box is sitting on. It's stone cold, although he can definitely hear a fan whirring somewhere. Jared jabs ineffectively for a few moments at the huge array of buttons apparently needed to control the two basic functions of on or off, and gives up when it starts beeping at him angrily. With a frustrated curse, he yanks the pizza box out of the oven and heads for the microwave instead.

The microwave seems like it will be easier to operate, but, he quickly discovers, is nowhere near big enough to fit the huge-ass pizza box inside. After a moment of frantic indecision-he must have been gone for close to ten minutes already-he begins pulling the slices of pizza out of the box and dumping them haphazardly onto the microwave's glass turntable. He hits the button next to the helpful picture of a slice of pizza, and paces the kitchen while he waits for the timer to run down.

It's about halfway through when it occurs to him that the setting was probably for frozen pizza, and he sprints back to the microwave to pull open the door.

The inside of the oven looks like someone has used it to explode a severed head.

Jared lets out a pitiful moan, and then slaps his hand over his mouth in case Jensen hears him and comes to investigate. The last thing he needs is a witness to his incompetence.

Short of ordering another pizza, Jared is all out of alternatives, so he starts wildly tugging the melted slices out of the microwave. Not all of them will come free, so he focuses his attention on the ones that will, and leaves the rest behind to rot. No man left behind his ass.

When he's finished, he nibbles on his greasy fingers while he examines his prize, and quickly comes to the sad conclusion that nothing he's managed to excavate really resembles pizza any more. Thinking on his feet, he grabs a spatula that's hanging on the gleaming utensil rack in front of him, and uses it to press the pieces semi-flat and then pulls down a pair of scissors to cut the newly formed lumps of cheese and dough back into rough, triangle-like shapes.

The finished result doesn't look particularly appetizing, or, if he's being totally honest, fit for human consumption. Jared places the pizza blobs gently into the cardboard box and sends out a quick prayer as he closes the lid.

When he gets back to the TV room, it's to find Jensen thankfully still there and seemingly happily examining the huge, usually hidden, wall of shelves lined with DVDs.

"Hope you don't mind," Jensen turns to say. "I found the secret catch. At first I thought you might be a modern day Bluebeard, and I'd find all your old assistants back here hanging from hooks."

"No, that's what I use the basement for; it's a bitch apparently to get blood out of hardwood floors. Or at least that's what my last seven housekeepers told me."

"Gotcha," Jensen says, tipping his forefinger in an imaginary salute. "The basement is out of bounds, and, if anyone asks, your housekeepers are at the store."

Jared shakes his head, a look of deep pride on his face. "Best. Assistant. Ever."

Jensen gives a small bow, and then straightens to run a hand lightly across the brightly colored shelves behind him. "So, have you really seen all these movies? I've been checking some of the running times, and it would take about a week a shelf to watch them, and that's only if you don't stop to sleep and eat, which I think we both know is never gonna happen."

Jared shrugs in easy agreement. Sleeping and eating are two of his favorite things, right up there with earning enormous amounts of money and being adored by millions, but he knows his values are kind of skewed so it's probably better for now if Jensen only knows about the gluttony and sloth.

"Not all, but most," Jared says as he sets the pizza box down on the table and carefully places the beer on top of it. The delicious aroma of mutated pizza wafts out, and despite knowing exactly what's inside the box, Jared feels his appetite returning. As long as his nostrils are still functioning, the likelihood of him ever wasting away is small, regardless of mood or the state of the food placed in front of him. "It's kind of an occupational requirement-sizing up the competition-but mostly it's just because I love movies. Even though I know exactly how fake they are, it's nice sometimes to be able to lose yourself in someone else's world for a few hours."

The food camouflaged as best as he can, Jared joins Jensen in front of the DVDs. He quickly scans the titles, and then reaches over to pull Spider-Man from the shelf. Up close, Jensen somehow smells even better than the pizza. Jared didn't know such a thing was possible.

Jensen nudges him with his elbow, and tugs the DVD case out of his loose grasp to read the back. "Looks okay," he finally decides, "although that is not how I pictured Peter Parker." He hands the box over to Jared and then turns back to the rows of DVDs. "So which ones are yours?"

Jared points to a fairly substantial section almost dead center of the shelving system. He's never really seen the point in false modesty.

"Wow." Jensen whistles. "That's a lot of movies."

"Gotta give the public what it wants." Jensen raises an eyebrow and Jared grins. "Plus, I guess there's also the fact that I'm not actually starring in them all, and I've have been acting since I was a kid. Lot of years." He shrugs. "Lot of movies."

"Seriously, since you were a kid? How do even get into something like that?"

"Well, at first it was modeling, but I think the plan was always to move into acting."

"You think?" Jensen heads over to drop down onto the huge couch in front of the enormous flat screen TV and reaches for the pizza box. Jared holds his breath, and then lets it out when at the last second Jensen picks up the beer instead, handing one over to Jared. "Don't you know?"

"My mom always dreamed of becoming an actress, but then she met my dad and I guess, I don't know, it just didn't happen for her. Then, when I was three she took me to an audition for a kids fashion show at a mall near our home, and everything kind of took off from there."

Jensen sits up from the sprawl he's sunk into, and stares over at Jared in surprise. "Three?" He shakes his head. "Damn, that's, well, that's young."

"She wasn't-she didn't force me into it or anything like that. I mean she was ambitious, but we're not talking Rose Hovick here." When Jensen's forehead wrinkles in confusion, he adds, "'Sing out, Louise?'" From Gypsy? Never mind," Jared says quickly. He doesn't like the hint of pity he can see growing in Jensen's expression. "The point is, if I wasn't having fun, she wouldn't have let me do it." Which was completely true. Right up until it wasn't.

"Okay," Jensen says soothingly, and Jared sighs. The story is common knowledge, and it's been a long time since anyone has asked him about it. He'd be glad if no one ever asked him again.

"So what about you? What's the deal with you and your aversion to the twentieth century?" Jared asks, half in an effort to change the subject, but mostly because he's genuinely curious.

"Oh." Jensen awkwardly sets down the bottle he'd been about to drink from. "I-my family, I kind of grew up in a pretty strict community, and stuff like that isn't really... allowed."

"At all? Wow, seriously? So what are you, like Amish or something? Are you doing that thing that Amish kids do? Rum something?"

"Um," Jensen hesitates. "No, I don't think so..." Jared catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye, but when he looks, there's nothing there. When he turns back, Jensen is closer than he was before. Jared has no idea how he missed him moving. "No, not Amish, and it's rumpsringa you're thinking of, which I'm a little old for," Jensen says. "But where I grew up, the community is kind of... insular. They-we don't really interact much with outsiders, and they don't see the point in most mort-um, modern technology."

"Danni seems to have a handle on it," Jared reminds, thinking of his costar and the cell phone that seems almost permanently welded to either her hand or her ear.

"Danni's mom is my mom's youngest sister. My father's family have pretty much been the leaders of our... community for as long as most people can remember, and my dad likes to show he hasn't forgotten the old ways, I guess, although most of the time I think he's the only one who cares. I doubt it would matter though to Danni even if it was the other way round-she's always done her own thing."

"So, you're what, next in line or something?"

"No, I have an older brother, but Josh isn't exactly the reliable type. My dad's been pinning all his hopes on me stepping into his shoes when the time comes, but lately I've been feeling, I don't know, trapped." Jensen shrugs. "Danni's always telling me I should see for myself what's out there, get some experience in your world, and suddenly it seemed like a good idea."

In an attempt to improve the appearance of the pizza, Jared had switched off all the lights except for the two lamps bracketing the couch when he first came into the room. When Jensen falls silent to stare pensively down at his beer, Jared is abruptly aware of how the shadows darken the lines of Jensen's face, until he looks like something filmed in black and white. Jared is so absorbed by the image that it takes him a second to catch up with the conversation, and when he does, his jaw drops.

"Wait, did you say-get some experience? Shit, Jensen how strict is strict?"

Jensen tilts his head, puzzled, and Jared has the sudden urge to reach over and wrap him up and keep him safe. "I-Jensen, you need to be careful, the kind of people you're going to meet working for me..." He takes in Jensen's stupidly pretty eyes, lips swollen from sucking on the beer bottle still in his hand, and feels a knot the size of a fist forming in his stomach. "Fuck, Jensen, they'll eat you alive!"

Jensen frowns, and then comprehension sweeps over his face, and he lets out a huffing laugh. He's still smiling when he leans back against the couch, shadows receding until he's lit up again, freckles running wild across the bridge of his nose, and eyes gleaming with mirth. "Oh, shit, no, I didn't mean like no sex, I meant meeting people who aren't like... us, and doing things without, um, help."

"Oh." Jared nods once and then again, feeling foolish. "God, sorry, I'm such an idiot. I was just worried for a second there, but of course you didn't mean-" Jared bites hard on his lip to stem the tide of words. "Ignore me, man, I've spent too many years trying to make crazy situations seem plausible; my imagination runs away with me sometimes."

Jensen's smile softens. "Don't apologize for looking out for me." He brings the bottle of beer to his mouth, and watches Jared from underneath lowered lashes. "It's sweet. Reminds me of being home with my mom. If she was an excessively hairy giant, that is."

Jared lets out a growl of protest and reaches over to land a punch on Jensen's upper arm. "That familiar too, Jen? Because I'm assuming anyone forced to spend a significant amount of time in the company of you and your smart mouth would have inevitably resorted to violence."

Jensen scowls and rubs at his arm. "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."

"Is that loser talk for ouch?"

"It's Isaac Asimov."

"Yeah, I know. I read. And you're the ass-imov."

"You know, I think I've finally figured out why you were so hard up for an assistant that you had to hire me."

Jared shakes his head sadly. "I'm not sure who you think you're insulting with that, but neither of us exactly comes out of it well."

"Eh, I'll take what I can get. So, pizza?"

"Oh, um, sure!" Jared feels his toes-hairy and otherwise-curl in his flip-flops. "But, I forgot to bring in any plates. I'll just go grab some-"

"It's fine, we don't need-"

"No, it'll only take a second. I just... really hate crumbs," he adds when Jensen frowns at him. Jensen shrugs, and Jared leaps to his feet, but it's too late; Jensen has opened the box, and Jared is still in the room.

"What the-?" Jensen says.

Although he hasn't admitted it to himself, Jared has been nursing the tiny, secret hope that some miracle of transformation might have occurred between closing the box in the kitchen and re-opening it ten minutes later in the media room.

Unfortunately, no law of nature has been transgressed by an invisible deity on his behalf, and Jared is left with Jensen's bewildered expression, and no real explanation to offer.

On reflection, lying seems to be the way to go.

"Fuck, what the hell happened here, Jen? Did you drop it?"

"No! Swear to God-it was like this when I opened it!" Jensen reaches out to lift one of the 'slices' out of the box. Several of its neighbors come away with it, hanging from the end of the first slice like a gross string of snot from a toddler's nose.

Jared reaches forward to snap off a slice, and brings it toward his face for a cautious sniff. "It still smells okay, just looks kind of messed up. The delivery guy did seem pretty shady; maybe he dropped it and didn't want to risk his tip?"

Jensen nods and carries out the same sniff test, which he follows up with a tiny nibble. Jared watches warily. "It tastes okay, too," Jensen finally declares. "Sort of crunchy."

Jared hides his relief behind a huge bite of his own slice (splodge?) of pizza and sinks back down next to Jensen.

"What about the plates, man?"

"What? Oh. 'S'okay," Jared mumbles through a full mouth. "Housekeeper will get it in the morning." He reaches out to grab the remote from the table to start up the movie, and then goes back for his beer. The pizza needs all the help it can get.

Popcorn is definitely off the menu.



By the time the movie is over, Jared is almost asleep, head lolling heavy on his neck and dangerously close to dropping down to snuggle against Jensen's shoulder. Jensen, in contrast, is sitting bolt upright, lips half parted and eyes glued to the screen. When the credits finally role, he flops back against the cushions and lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"That? Was awesome!" He twists on the couch to face Jared. "Why didn't anyone tell me there was a Spider-Man movie before now?"

"To be fair, I think Columbia probably spent quite a bit of money making sure that particular piece of information was out there. I have literally no idea how it managed to pass you by."

Jensen ducks his head, and Jared grins. "So, since you're obviously a massive comic book geek, how did it compare?"

"Great! Really great," Jensen hesitates, a thoughtful look in his eye. "Mostly."

"I know that look," Jared says, crossing his arms in fake long-suffering. "You have notes."

"Maybe a couple," Jensen says, and then sits forward, green eyes sparkling. "Originally the web-shooters were Peter Parker's invention, not part of the powers he got from the spider bite. That just gave him increased strength and reflexes and the ability to climb walls. Oh, and his spider-sense, of course."

"Of course." Jared nods. He suspects Jensen isn't really paying attention to him anyway.

"Also, Norman Osborne had nothing to do with the radioactive spider that bit Peter. In fact, he didn't even appear in the original comics until years later, although in the Ultimate revamp Peter does get bitten by a genetically enhanced spider from the chemical engineering plant Norman Osborne owns so..." Jensen trails off when he catches sight of Jared's grinning face. "Um, yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and dropping his eyes to his lap. "It was... good."

Jared's grin grows wider, and he feels a soft curl of tenderness sweep over him. "Jen, are you sure the real reason you came to LA wasn't just to give you a wider dating pool and increase your chances of getting laid? Because I can see how this... hobby might be something of an impediment."

"Yeah, I do okay, thanks," Jensen says. He's wearing a cocky smirk that Jared's mostly sure is only half-serious. Jared's suddenly reminded how at ease Jensen had been with the hot prospective assistant Chad had brought in, and his good humor takes a nosedive. He tells himself it's because he's tired and maybe a little bit drunk.

"Right, how could I forget about Melissa? I think you might even have come close to beating out some of my best scoring-a-phone-number times," he adds, because credit where credit's due. "Have you called her yet?"

"Nah," Jensen says. He stands up and starts collecting together the empty bottles and the worst remains of the pizza that neither of them had been prepared to risk a tooth over. "Melissa isn't really my type."

"No? Okay," Jared says, refusing to acknowledge the weird little burst of relief. "Well, you're working on a TV set now, man, so your dating prospects just increased by like a bajilllion percent. Plus, you have me-and I'm a killer wingman." Even as he makes the offer, Jared isn't sure taking Jensen out on a bar crawl is the best way to cement their fledgling friendship. If it's anything like a night out with Chad, Jensen will spend more of it in dark corners with various women than he will shooting the breeze with Jared.

Still, it's a start, and also a chance for Jensen to see exactly how big a deal Jared is to people who actually own a TV.

Jensen pauses in his attempts to close the lid of the pizza box, and he glances over at Jared. "Ah, no, when I said Melissa wasn't my type, I was talking gender rather than hair color?"

"Oh. Oh!" Jared says, hand spasming on the beer bottle he's holding. "Okay. I, um, I didn't realize, but-yeah. Of course. Whatever floats your boat, right?"

"Well, basically that's down to buoyancy and the displacement of water, but sex with other guys generally does it for me too."

Jared takes a gulp of his beer. It's warm, flat and pretty unpleasant going down. He takes another long swallow and nods. "Um, I'm not sure what my numbers are like with gay men, so I may not be at my full wingman power-"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they're probably up there with whatever your female demographic is," Jensen says.

"You've already got the job." Jared can feel himself blush at the warm appreciation in Jensen's eyes, and can only hope the mixture of half-light and fake tan is enough to hide it. "No need to suck up, Ackles." Jensen reaches over to cuff him lightly on the back of his head. Jared ducks and stands up to busy himself helping Jensen tidy up. There isn't much to do, so mostly he just rearranges the empty beer bottles into neat groups.

"So," Jared asks into the growing silence. "How does this work with your home set-up and the whole taking over your community like your dad wants? It sounds kind of, I don't know... conservative? Is that why you wanted to get out?"

"What, because of the gay thing?" Jensen's already shaking his head before Jared has even had a chance to form a response. He looks loose and relaxed, leaning with his hip against the edge of a side table and his legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over his chest. "No, no, nothing like that. It's no big deal for us-two guys together, or girls for that matter, is pretty normal."

"It is?" Jared stops fiddling with the bottles and turns to face Jensen. "Really? Where are you from again?" he asks, because he may be from Texas so his experiences are a little skewed, but there isn't any place or particular religion he knows to that doesn't contain at least some idiots ready to stir up trouble when it came to two guys being together. And in Jared's world, despite show-business generally having about as much restraint as ancient Rome, there were even fewer people prepared to be open about their sexuality. Most big name actors Jared knew would rather live a lie than risk their careers if the truth got out.

Jared might not like it, but he also knows it won't be changing any time soon.

His attention is pulled back to Jensen, who suddenly doesn't seem as relaxed anymore. "Um, you wouldn't know it," he says, spine ramrod stiff. "Our community is pretty small really, and kind of far-flung. My family was originally from Europe and we just sort of... spread."

"Huh. Sounds nice," Jared says thoughtfully. "I used to catch a lot of crap when I was a kid-you know modeling and then acting weren't exactly 'manly' pursuits as far as the other kids at school were concerned. It probably made it worse that I spent so much time on set with tutors; every time I came home it was like being the new kid all over again."

"Man, that really blows," Jensen says, something warmer than pity in his eyes. "Especially if there was no truth it it?"

Jared feels a hot flush of heat sweep over him and then disappear leaving a cold, prickling sensation in its wake. "Oh, no, I'm not-I mean, I don't. It's girls for me," he finally settles on. "It's always just been girls."

Jensen nods. He doesn't look disappointed, Jared notes. He doesn't really look anything. "Kids can be cruel, but what they do best is stupid."

"It was okay," Jared says, shaking away the odd feeling of anticlimax. "As I got older I was working pretty much full time, so it wasn't an issue. Well, except for not having anyone to hang out with at recess, although Morgan Freeman is surprisingly good at street hockey." He grins, but Jensen doesn't look like he wants to join in. Hopefully it's because he doesn't know who Morgan Freeman is, and not because he's feeling sorry for Jared again. "Seriously, I was fine," Jared insists.

"I'm glad." Jensen shifts, and then makes his way across the room toward Jared. Jared freezes, senses on high alert for he's not sure what, but Jensen stops a few feet away, head tilted curiously as he takes in Jared's tense form. "I should go," he says. "Got an early start in the morning and my boss is kind of a hard-ass."

Jared relaxes, and reaches for his phone to text his driver. "That sucks. You should tell him to go screw himself."

"And get fired from my first ever job? No way. I just wait till he's not looking and spit in his coffee."

"Oh my god, please tell me you don't spit in my coffee!"

"I don't spit in your coffee."

"No, no, no. Say it so I'll believe it!"

"Would that I could, man." Jensen grins. "That's why you're the big movie star and I'm the lowly assistant; I don't know how to sell a line." Jared makes a threatening noise, and Jensen shoulder-checks him as he heads out of the room. "Thanks, Jared. This was fun."

"It was," Jared agrees quickly. Out in the hallway, both dogs join them, circling Jensen's legs excitedly. "We should do it again."

"Yeah." Jensen bends to pet the dogs. "Cool."

Jared really wishes he could see Jensen's expression, but on the plus side he definitely said he had fun, and possibly that he thinks that Jared is cool. All Jared needs to do now is figure out the perfect follow-up get together. And not come off as too needy when he does it.

Chapter 3