SPN RPS Fic: Trouble Is - 2/3 (Jared/Jensen, Jared/Jensen/Chris) NC-17

[nu_breed]

Part One

***

As soon as Jared and Chad step through the door, it's so déjà vu Jared wants to laugh till he cries. Six months away, and nothing's changed, not one bit. It's still him and Chad, walking in as if they own the room, grabbing champagne from the waiter, who is always model-pretty and looks them both up and down with a smile on his face.

Chad leans in, like he always does. One hand on the waiter's waist and he slips his number in the guy's back pocket, tells him not while Chad's working, he can't afford him, but maybe later they can work something out.

I don't come cheap, but I like you, so I'll give you a break.

Jared slams his champagne back; the bubbles tickle his nose and it's sickly sweet, but good, and he puts his empty glass back on the tray and grabs another. He doesn't care whether or not there's another pretty boy circling the floor with a tray for the empties, he wants more right the fuck now and finishes his new glass in seconds. Anything to forget another night, just like this, where he took the prettiest client he'd ever had upstairs and everything changed.

Everything and nothing.

Chad drags him outside to the deck, and within minutes he has six foot three of Justin Hartley draped all over him, teeth grazing his ear. Justin still kinda takes Jared's breath away to look at. Boy's far too pretty for his own good or anyone else's.

"Where's your wife?" Jared asks, eyebrow raised.

"Fuck, Jared." Justin grabs Jared and pulls him in, so he has an arm around both waists. "I thought you weren't. I mean."

"So cute when you're flustered." Jared smirks, and it's like he can't help himself. All the old moves are still there; it's like riding a bike.

Justin stares at him, can't keep his eyes off Jared's mouth, and there's such a thrill in knowing that he's still got it.

"I mean I heard you set up house with Mr. Perfect Poster Boy himself. Even got yourself an agent." Jared doesn't know that he likes the almost-sneer in Justin's voice one little bit. Sounds like Justin thinks Jared's attempts at a normal life are just a big joke. But it's not like Jared doesn't agree with him.

"I did. I have," Jared corrects himself. "I'm just here to have a little fun, no business."

"Fun, huh?" Justin waves a baggie in front of Jared's nose, kisses Chad full on the lips and turns back to Jared, lips quirking into a grin that's at best bordering on filthy and at worst an invitation. "We can have some fun, Jared." He leans in close, too close. "Jenny doesn't need to know a thing."

Jared hesitates for a second, but why the fuck not? One line won't hurt, he'll be up and down so quick he won't even notice and fuck, if Chad can do it, so can he. It's not like he's going to end up with his ass in a sling over one fucking line, now, is it?

Sure, he hasn't touched coke in more than six months, but he can't be sober, not tonight. Sober means he has to think about the fact that his big break got screwed up, and it easily could be again, because he's a whore. Was. Is. He doesn't even know anymore. Sober means he has to think about what Jensen would do if he found out. Sober means reality and Jared's had enough of reality for one day.

They end up in the bathroom, Justin chopping up lines, white crystals sparkling like glitter on the marble bench. He shoves a rolled-up hundred into Jared's hand. Jared swallows hard, like he has something lodged in his throat, and lowers his head. One line down and his eyes are watering, his sinuses stinging like fuck and the back of his throat coated in bitter tang. Chad grabs the hundred and does a line per nostril like the pro he is.

Jared grabs the rolled-up bill back; now that he's had one he wants more and fuck, it's not like one more'll make a difference now. He knows what he's doing, he's not a child; he doesn't need a conscience and he sure as hell doesn't need Chad laying a hand over his to stop him.

"That's enough, isn't it, Jay?"

"Not nearly." He pulls his hand away. "Thanks, though. Mom."

The second line hits him harder than the first. Stings more, and he's leaning back against the bench, moaning a little as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

Jared can feel the burn in his skin, can feel the drugs coursing through his bloodstream and his head feels so heavy, it seems to roll back of its own accord. He stretches, shirt riding up, and when he focuses again, Justin is staring at him, staring at the patch of exposed skin and Jared grins and bites his lip.

He feels powerful again, and he likes being looked at like that by someone other than Jensen.

"So fucking hot," Justin mouths into Chad's neck. "Both of you. Wanna fuck you both."

Jared can almost hear the unspoken How much floating in the air.

"Not him," Chad mumbles. "He's not... that's not why he's here."

"Uh. In the room, asshole?" Jared feels like he's on fire; itchy, skin too tight and he's sick of Chad acting like he can't look after himself. He may be out of practice, but he can do just fine, thank you very much.

Not too out of practice to lean in and kiss the corner of Justin's mouth, whisper, "Thanks for the coke, baby, but I can't let you fuck me. Not tonight. I'm sure your boy'll take care of you, though."

"Satisfied?" he mouths to Chad, and gets nothing but a glare back.

***

They end up at some too-dark-to-see after-hours club. Jared thinks he should know the name, but they all look the same after a while. Not that he'd be able to read the name if it was emblazoned on the door. So very fucked up and he should have stopped hours ago, should never have touched the coke or the glass after glass of champagne. But this is what he's missed. Feeling invincible, like no one can touch him unless he wants them to. Unless they pay to.

They walk into VIP and Justin points to a spare couch at the back. Jared moves toward it, one hand on Chad's shoulder for balance. The couch is black leather and he feels like if he doesn't watch himself, he could just slide onto the floor like melted butter dripping off hot bread.

"Jay, what the fuck are you doing?"

Jared grabs the cigarette Justin gave him before from behind his ear and sticks it in his mouth, waiting. Chad rolls his eyes and lights it with the gold Zippo Jared gave him for his twenty-fourth birthday, and it feels so eerily familiar, like Chad's still looking out for him. Like he never stopped.

"What d'you mean?" He takes a drag and it feels soothing. As soothing as noxious chemicals can be, anyway. He's high and it feels... comforting.

"What do I mean?" Chad holds his hand out and takes a hit off the smoke. "Dude, when I asked you to come tonight? I wasn't expecting this fucking 360. This isn't you anymore."

"Maybe it is," Jared says, biting the inside of his cheek. "Maybe this is exactly who I am, who I've always been. Once a whore, right, C?"

"Oh that's cute, Jay. Real fucking cute. What the fuck's gotten into you?"

Jared shrugs and looks toward the bar. Justin's talking to some guy there, tall and dark but Jared can't see his face and he doesn't really care. He's starting to come down a little and a lot of that's on Chad.

"Shut up," Jared mumbles. "You're fuckin' harshin' my buzz, man."

"Good." Chad takes another drag on the cigarette and passes it back to him. "Hey, I know. Why don't you, gee, I dunno, call your boyfriend or something. Remember him?"

Jared flips him off, but his skin prickles at the thought of calling Jensen. He still hasn't done anything that constitutes cheating, not really, but if that's true, why does it feel like he has? Whatever, he's not feeling that high right now and he needs more. He finishes the cigarette, putting it out with his boot. Looks up at Justin and mouths, "Bathroom." Justin holds up one finger and Jared stands up, stretching, making sure Justin gets a good eyeful. Jared has no illusions about why he's getting fed drugs and part of him knows he should just fucking stop. Walk away and forget how much he likes it, go back to his life with Jensen and try and pretend that everything's fine. Try and pretend that tonight never happened.

He's not that strong, though, and the other part of him? Really fucking loves the attention.

"Where're you going?" Chad asks.

"Gotta take a piss," Jared says. "Why? You wanna hold it?"

"Oh, fuck off, then. I've got better things to do than baby-sit." Chad flips him off and heads for the bar.

Jared makes his way to the bathroom, walking past couples grinding on the dance floor to the dirty, raw techno beats coming from the DJ booth. Walks past two blonde girls making out, one's hands up the other's skirt.

"Hot, huh?" Justin is pressed up behind him, mouth on his neck and an arm around his waist. Jared looks over his shoulder and Justin has a bottle of Cristal in his other hand. Wow, this is familiar. Hard to pretend he's not cheating now, because it's not like he's never been in this situation with Justin before. Jared feels like he'd pretty much do anything for another line.

"Hot? Sure, if you like girls, I guess."

"I like you more," Justin purrs in his ear.

Jared untangles himself from Justin and walks backwards into the pristine bathroom. Everything sparkles it's so clean. All the stalls are free, but he walks into the handicap one without any guilt whatsoever. Justin locks the door behind him and stands with his back to it.

"Where's Chad?" Jared asks, trying not to sound bored.

"Talking to a couple of girls. I cut him loose."

"Why?" Jared bites his lip, not really needing to hear the answer.

Justin laughs. "Wanna get high, Jared? I know how much you like it."

Justin flips the toilet seat lid down and sits, giving the champagne bottle to Jared. Jared takes a hit from it and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Jesus." Justin shakes his head. "Is there anything that doesn't look like porn on you?"

Jared laughs, sick kind of thrill in his stomach at knowing he still has the ability to make anyone want him. He doesn't need innocent when he has that.

Justin pulls out a baggie, this time with four off-white pills in it.

"Not letting you fuck me for Ecstasy. Or anything else," Jared clarifies, and wonders who he's trying to convince by saying it in the first place.

Justin nods, and Jared straddles him, right there on the toilet seat. Puts his hand out and Justin pops one of the pills into Jared's hand. He puts the pill in his mouth and takes a huge gulp of Cristal. Too much at once and he struggles to swallow, the bubbles tickling his nose and his throat stinging.

"Yeah, baby," Justin goads, taking the bottle from him. "Go on, take it."

Jared bristles a little at that. No one but Jensen calls him baby and all of a sudden he's hit with this twisty feeling in his gut, like he's in knots. Chad's right, he should've called Jensen, should've done a lot of things and none of them are being locked in a bathroom cubicle with Justin Hartley and acting like a slut for drugs.

But there's no calling do-over now, and Jared takes another belt of the champagne, like that's going to help, before handing the bottle back to Justin.

"You know," Justin says, tipping his head back and washing his pill down with champagne before putting the bottle down on the floor, "you always were my favorite."

"I'd say you were mine," Jared traces around Justin's mouth with two fingers, "but I think we both know that'd be a lie."

Justin's tongue flicks out and laps at Jared's fingers. It sends a jolt straight to his cock, and Jared wonders, not for the first time tonight, just what the fuck's wrong with him.

"One kiss." Justin mouths Jared's jaw. "Just one and Jensen'll never know."

Jared nods and he doesn't know why. It's fucked and stupid, but he puts his hands on either side of Justin's face and kisses him. Just a soft brush of lips at first, but Justin tilts his head and licks between Jared's lips before his tongue pushes in slowly. Jared knows he fucking well shouldn't be doing this, but soon they're sucking each other's tongues and Justin has his hand spanning Jared's back, holding him in place as Jared involuntarily rocks against him. They're both hard, and Jared shouldn't be enjoying it as much as he is.

"Sure you don't want me to fuck you? It'd be so good, you remember, right?" Justin grazes Jared's neck with his teeth and Jared moves off him lightning-fast. He doesn't want any marks; it makes it all the more real, all the more unforgivable.

"Sorry." Justin's grin is filthy-dirty, his eyes glinting dark and full of promises Jared doesn't want to hear. "Can't help myself."

"Well, you'd better. I don't do that anymore." Jared glares at him, but he can't really blame the guy; Jared's been stringing him along all night, teasing him, and Justin fucking well knows it.

"Come on, Jay, let me make it up to you. One more line?"

Jared knows he shouldn't. He just dropped an E, for God's sake, and in about twenty minutes he's going to be supremely fucking twisted. But if Justin's offering, it'd be kinda rude not to take him up on it.

When they get back to VIP, Chad shakes his head and mouths, "You dumb fuck," and Jared just laughs, lays an open-mouthed kiss on Justin's neck and rides the wave that's already starting to well in him.

***

Jensen feels like it's been years since he partied, but it's really only been a matter of months. He feels so out of the loop, though, like he doesn't even know how to do this sort of shit anymore. It's not like he's old, for fuck's sake, there's other people he knows who are past thirty and going on benders every single weekend. But it just doesn't feel right. Doesn't feel natural.

He'd been well and truly over it even before Jared came back into his life. There'd been a few months, though, where the coke and the booze and the boys he fucked in secret were about the only things that kept him going, that distracted him from the Jared-sized hole that had been drilled into his heart.

It's weird on so many levels, being at a wrap party and sitting there like an observer, watching everyone else get ridiculously trashed and fall all over each other while Jensen just sips his champagne leisurely and tries for the tenth time to get hold of Jared.

"Hey, it's Jared. Sorry I missed your call. You know the drill."

Jared hasn't changed his voicemail since Jensen first met him, and it makes Jensen's gut twist every single time. No one else would even pick up on it, but Jensen remembers the first time he heard the message, delivered in that sex-rough voice. Remembers how nervous he was, how it took him days to work up the courage to call, his voice shaking as he left his number and wondering if Jared would ever call back. Jared always called back.

But he isn't tonight.

"Jay, where are you? Call me."

Jensen shouldn't be worried; it's not like he expects Jared to be a saint while he's out of town. But things have been weird lately. He thinks it started after the thing with Chris, and that's concerning in and of itself. Jensen can feel jealousy stabbing at him and he doesn't want to think about it, can't bear to think about Jared feeling restless and dissatisfied with their life together.

Of course it's possible he's being completely paranoid. He really needs to relax; he's supposed to be celebrating, not going through a catalogue of insecurities in his head. He puts his phone away and ambles over to the bar, sits down next to Mark, the PA every queer on the project's been trying to cruise since filming started.

"Hey, Jensen. Having fun?"

Mark has really pretty eyes. A year ago Jensen would've spent hours trying to figure out if Mark was discreet enough to take home at the end of the night. Jensen's not about to do that, but he is lonely and a couple of drinks with someone easy on the eyes can't hurt.

"I guess." Jensen shrugs. "Kinda wishing I hadn't kicked that drug habit, though. At least people were interesting then. Present company excluded, of course."

He gestures to the barman and mouths, "Jager," holding up two fingers. The barman pours and Jensen slides one shot across to Mark, who clinks his glass against Jensen's.

"Thanks, man," Mark says, his eyes downcast. They both down their shots and Jensen'd forgotten how truly disgusting Jager tastes at first, but in seconds he's feeling warm and more content than he was before.

After a couple more shots, and a beer chaser or three, Jensen's feeling pleasantly hazy and, he has to admit, having a good time. Mark is great company; he studied film at NYU and he's bright and funny and not at all an industry asshole like half the people at the party. He's also not hard to look at, that's for damn sure. He's tall and broad, and when he leans forward, his bangs hang in his eyes and he reminds Jensen far too much of someone else.

Mark's not as beautiful, though. Not even close, but Mark is enough to take his mind off Jared if only for a few minutes and Jensen's glad of the company, though he feels guilty as hell for even thinking it.

Jensen doesn't want to focus on how tempted he is, so he finishes his drink, makes some excuses and heads for the bathroom. The alcohol's making him feel hazy and warm and he stands there and looks at himself in the mirror, laugh lines around his mouth and eyes and his cheeks red. He needs to wash it away, this thing he's feeling, so he splashes icy-cold water on his face and neck and hopes that'll help.

He grabs a hand towel and begins to dry himself, wiping away beads of water from his forehead first before closing his eyes and toweling off the rest of his face. He feels the buzz in his pocket and does a quick wipe of his neck before grabbing his phone.

Tom. Not Jared, and he almost doesn't answer it, it's probably just the latest in a long line of vain attempts on Tom's part to convince Jensen to go out with him to a club or some opening or a Hills party. Jensen loves Tom and all, but hanging out with him isn't exactly conducive to staying as clean and sober as he can. Not to mention the whole having a boyfriend at home thing.

But maybe some distraction in the form of a phone call isn't exactly a terrible idea. He leans against the bathroom counter and flips his phone open.

"Hey Tom, what's up?"

"Jensen. Man, I was about to hang up. You took your time."

"I was trying to decide whether I could be bothered taking the call."

Tom laughs. "Oh, man, that's cold. Where you at?"

"Dude, I told you like three weeks ago." Jensen rubs the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Talking to Tom nearly always gives him a headache. "I'm in Chicago for pick-ups, flying back tomorrow."

"So you're not in LA, then?"

Jensen sometimes wonders why he even bothers speaking. Tom is such a fucking airhead and whatever brain cells he had in the first place are probably all dead from too much drug use. If there were a poster boy for "Drugs make you stupid" it would be Tom Welling.

"Chi. Ca. Go," Jensen spells out. "So, not in LA, Tom, no."

"Huh." There's a really long pause and Jensen checks his phone to see that Tom's still on the line. "It's just. Well, you know I love you, right, man?"

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Jensen says. Cool. Measured. Totally the opposite of the way he's feeling right that moment, because Tom never talks like this and it's making him really fucking nervous.

"Uh." Jensen can hear Tom breathing this time. "I just. I was out at Structure last night and I saw your boy there. Jared."

Jensen wants to tell Tom that he must be mistaken. Structure's hardcore, and there isn't one patron in the place who isn't high, ever. Jared doesn't party like that anymore. But Jensen still feels his stomach twisting into knots, because it makes sense. Jared hasn't answered his fucking phone, or called Jensen back, not once, and maybe that's because he was too high to bother.

Jensen can't think about Jared being high, because that's the old Jared, the one who fucks and parties all night.

"Who--" Jensen clears his throat; he's aware that he sounds raspy and rattled. "Who was he with, Tom?"

"Well, at first he was with that little blond, you know, the one he used to... hang out with?" Tom is choosing his words very carefully and Jensen's just about to lose it.

"You mean Chad?" Jensen swallows and tries to get himself under control. There could be a stack of reasons why Jared was partying with Chad. Jared was probably lonely and needed some distraction. Jensen doesn't have a problem with that. Tom's intimation, though? Doesn't sound like nothing.

"Yeah, Chad." Tom pauses again, and Jensen wants to tell him to get the hell on with it. "They turned up later with Hartley. Mike saw them up at Jason Dohring's before, too. Said they all looked pretty cozy."

Jensen's head feels like it's going to split apart. Justin. Jensen knows all about Justin's reputation. He's seen the guy in action. He's fucking seen him in action with Jared, and he wants to bleach his brain, anything to keep from imagining the two of them wrapped around each other, both so fucking tall and pretty and--

"Jen? You still there, man?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm just. I'm gonna go." He wipes his free hand on his pants and swaps the hand he has his phone in, so he can wipe that one too. He's sweating insanely and he feels like he can't catch his breath. He's still going to give Jared the benefit of the doubt. Chad may be irresponsible, but he's a good friend and it's taken a while, but he and Jensen respect each other.

Chad wouldn't drag Jared back to... He just wouldn't.

"Look, it could be nothing, Jensen. Maybe Hartley and your boy just left together to do some blow or something, y'know? I just. I figured you oughta know is all."

"Left together, huh?" Jensen's free hand is clenched at his side and his fingernails are digging in, gouging painful marks into his skin. It's one thing to think about Jared and Chad partying with Justin, it's another when he knows Jared left with the guy, and now it all makes sense. The lack of contact, the fact that Jared hasn't even tried to call... He had said he didn't want to come to Chicago, that he couldn't because he had auditions to think of, and it's just all too coincidental. He'd been weird after the whole thing with Chris, and Jensen heard from his agent that someone else got the role on Grey's, yet Jared hasn't called.

He's withdrawing bit by bit, and now he's off with a client. Jensen can't work out what would possess Jared to do it. To just throw away his career and what they have to... what? Go back to what he was before? It seems so completely fucked that he can't even get his head around it. Doesn't want to, either. He feels ill and his head's pounding and he feels numb. Completely numb, paralyzed.

He disconnects the call while Tom is still talking and waits for the room to stop spinning before he even thinks of moving away from the counter.

When he gets back to the bar, Mark is still sitting there, sipping his beer, and it takes Jensen just a few seconds to convince Mark to leave the party and come back to the hotel with him.

Jensen fucks him face down on the carpet with one hand in Mark's shaggy brown hair. Face down is just right; it's perfect, because Jensen can pretend he's fucking someone else. He tries not to hurt Mark, but it's rough and fast and Jensen's breaking apart bit by bit, so he doesn't feel guilty for not being attentive and considerate. Not at all.

Afterwards he has to brush his teeth. The back of his throat tastes bitter and disgusting and he spends maybe half an hour just staring at his reflection, before he punches the bathroom mirror so hard it shatters and he spends the next hour pulling shards of glass from his skin.

It doesn't hurt, though. Nothing does.

***

Jensen doesn't sleep for more than ten minutes on the flight home. It's a first for him; he's usually the first one out and dead to the world for the entire journey, but there is no peace this time, no relaxation. When he sleeps, he dreams, and when he wakes, all he can think about is what's waiting for him when he gets home.

He doesn't know what he's going to say; there's no plan of attack. He's been swinging between white-hot anger and nausea for the last twelve or so hours and he's got hungover and well-fucked to add to the mix. He's so twisted up over Jared that he doesn't feel like himself and it's just the way it used to be before. Out of control, like he can't find his footing.

It's so ridiculously familiar that it makes him want to laugh, but Jensen thinks if he tried to laugh right now, nothing would come out but dead air, cloying and bitter.

Jensen stands outside the apartment for at least five minutes, his heart pounding in his chest, before he finally manages to unlock the door. Jared is asleep, face down on the bed, the sheet covering his ass. He's so beautiful like this, his arms folded above his head and masses and masses of sun-tinged skin. So beautiful that Jensen has to look away, because he's torn between wanting to climb in next to him and slamming his fist into Jared's pretty fucking face.

Jared stirs, rolls onto his back and opens his eyes sleepily. He stretches, and the sheet falls down, exposing the clear line of his hipbones and his perfect belly. Jensen's cock stirs in response. It makes him even angrier because he doesn't want this, doesn't want his body to react. But he can feel Jared's gaze on him, weighty and needing and he was never strong enough to say no to Jared. Jensen doesn't say a word, just strips down to his boxers and straddles Jared's hips.

"Hey," Jared drawls, sleep making him sound more and more like home, like summer barbeques and George Strait and Jensen can't deal with that, can't feel anything right now except anger because if he does, he'll fucking cave and he can't forgive Jared's betrayal.

"Don't talk," he says, flat and even. He pulls his dick out and moves up till he's straddling Jared's face. "Gonna fuck your mouth."

Jared looks confused for all of two seconds before he opens his mouth wide and Jensen sinks down into heat and wet, doesn't give Jared time to adjust before he's slamming in all the way, then out. He grabs the headboard for leverage and goes to town, hitting the back of Jared's throat with each thrust. Jared doesn't gag, of course; he makes it all look so easy. Takes it like a fucking pro and it makes Jensen's skin prickle thinking about all the guys who've been in this position, thinks about Jared doing the same to Chris right in front of his eyes, and wow, apparently he hasn't quite gotten over that yet. For the first time since he's known Jared, Jensen wishes he wasn't so fucking adept at sucking cock because right now all Jensen wants is to make him hurt the way he's making Jensen hurt right now just by existing.

Wants to, but Jared's too damn good and the sight of him, eyes watering, Jensen's cock pounding in and out of that mouth is enough to make Jensen groan and lose it right there, his orgasm hitting him full-force as he comes in pulses down Jared's throat.

Jensen pulls out and he can't resist touching Jared's lips, red and used and his mouth's wide open as he breathes heavily in and out. Jensen pushes away the tendrils of guilt he can feel unfolding in his gut and pulls his hand away as quickly as if it had been burned.

He looks down at Jared, debauched and still hard, and he feels his chest tighten, feels sick to his stomach and he needs to get away from it. Needs to get away from Jared. He leaves him without a word, leaves him lying there and heads for the shower, though he doesn't know how he's ever going to feel clean again.

***

Jared brings himself off to the sound of Jensen in the shower, strokes himself hard and fast thinking about water and heat on skin and wipes himself off with Kleenex afterwards. He feels pretty revolting: skin tight, sticky and dirty, and he contemplates joining Jensen under the heat and spray, but Jensen's giving off such strong vibes of "Don't talk to me, don't even fucking look at me," that Jared figures he'd better stay right where he is.

It's a little worrying, to say the least, this mood of Jensen's. He's distant, angry and so much like the old Jensen that Jared's feeling not only déjà vu, but a kind of dread building in the pit of his stomach.

The worst thing is, he loved it. Loved Jensen using him. It's been a long time since that's happened, and as much as Jared loves lying in bed with Jensen for hours on end, he misses the unbridled, ugly fucking that was so characteristic of the early days of their relationship. Sometimes Jared wonders if he needs therapy, he's so fucked in the head.

Jared's so lost in thought that he doesn't even notice the water stop, or the shower door open and close. Doesn't notice anything until Jensen's standing in the bedroom, beads of water on his neck and shoulders.

"So." Jared sits up against the headboard. 'We gonna talk about what's going on with you? Or just pretend like nothing's wrong?"

Jensen laughs, but there's no humor in it. "I don't think you want to hear what I have to say."

"Uh, yeah, I do." Jared leans forward, crosses his legs and rests his face in his hands. "So go on, hit me."

Jensen sits down on the bed, but not facing Jared. He's wearing boxers and his hair is sticking up in wet peaks. Jared feels like the space between them may as well be miles.

"You have fun while I was away?" he asks, and Jared takes a deep breath in. Inhales through his nose and out through his mouth. Jensen's pissed at him, really fucking pissed and his tone's so accusatory that Jared can only think of one person to blame.

"Fucking Chad," he whispers.

"Really?" Jensen says, bitter grin on his face. "Chad too, huh? And here I was thinking you spent the whole weekend just fucking Justin Hartley."

Jared feels the bottom fall out of his stomach. There's so much he wants to say; he wants to defend himself, to tell Jensen he's wrong, that's not what happened at all, but he can't. Even. Speak.

"That's not what happened," he gets out eventually, eyes fixed on Jensen. "It wasn't like that."

"Oh, really?" Jensen turns to face him and Jared wants to look away. Jensen's eyes are dark and Jared feels naked in a way that has nothing to do with sex. "So it wasn't you all over him like a cheap--oh, excuse me, expensive fucking whore for everyone to see, Jay? Did you suck him off before the coke? Or after?"

Jared wants to laugh, except it isn't remotely funny. Jensen is acting like he used to: possessive, irrational and distant and Jared feels like he doesn't even know him anymore. What's more, Jensen doesn't know Jared at all.

"You're fucking delusional," Jared spits out. "And I'm over this."

"Hell," Jensen drawls, "you asked. You had to know this was going to get back to me, Jared. I just. I don't even know you anymore. Maybe I never did." He pauses. "I fucked someone last night; I fucked someone while you were out whoring your tight little ass. I hope it was worth it."

Jared can taste tears at the back of his throat, and he digs his fingernails into his palm. Needs the pain to distract him because fuck if he's going to lose it in front of Jensen.

You're right, he wants to say, you don't know me at all if you think I'd fucking do that, even though I wanted to, even though I wanted to so badly. But I know you and you're just the same fucked-up piece of shit you always were.

Instead, he looks Jensen in the eye and says, "You bet it was worth it. I'm fucking good at my job, baby. You of all people know that. Oh, and by the way, Jen?" He leans over so he's right in Jensen's space. "I just let you fuck my mouth. You owe me five hundred bucks."

He gets a sick sense of satisfaction from seeing the hurt wash across Jensen's face, because no one's ever hurt Jared like Jensen has and no one's ever going to again.

***

It amazes Jared how easy it is to slot back into his old life, just like he never left.

He moves back in with Chad and in some ways it's exactly the same as before, but in other ways not so much. They don't talk like they used to; Chad's so pissed with him for "throwing a good thing away."

But Jared knows better. He'd thought he quit tricking for all the right reasons, but it turns out he was just deluding himself. This is who he is, and it took getting away from Jensen to realize it. Jensen always twisted him up in ways that made it hard for Jared to see straight.

Chad doesn't get that at all. He doesn't get why someone who got out of this life would actually choose to go back to it. As much as Chad always told Jared not to believe in fairy tales, there's still part of him that wishes he'd been the one to fall in love with someone who loved him back. Someone who didn't treat him like a useless little whore.

Except Jensen did, in the end. Jared'd been under the mistaken impression that Jensen had thought more of him than that, but he knows better now. Makes him laugh when he thinks back.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you were doing it still. Not anymore. You’re all I think about and I don’t care about anything anymore except having you here with me.

Jensen's a fucking liar and Jared's better off without him, and if there are times when he misses Jensen so bad it feels like there's a hole in his gut, well, that's nothing that another line, another hook-up can't help to fix.

Sometimes, though, it's all he can do to stop himself from thinking about Jensen every time someone fucks him.

Sense memory is a bastard. It's so easy to recall Jensen's face; the way he would smile, the sharp planes of his jaw and nose. Fucking perfect mouth, full and lush. Sometimes when Jared closes his eyes, he'll see Jensen; cheeks stained red, turned on and so damn beautiful. See Jensen's teeth worrying his lip, and Jared practically has to bite down on his tongue to keep from yelling Jensen's name when his orgasm hits.

Jared can hear his voice, too, and when he's down on his knees blowing actors, producers, stockbrokers and lawyers, he can imagine Jensen, his bourbon-deep baritone groaning out words Jared will never admit he wants to hear.

He takes more drugs than he ever has. He needs to; it's the only thing that numbs him enough, that takes him outside of himself and shuts out every fucking memory of Jensen Ross Ackles he has stored away in his brain. Line after line of coke, meth-smoke pulled deep into his lungs, pills and weed and Valium to come down. Jared's just one big mass of excess and he feels like he's far off his game.

But that doesn't stop his clients from calling.

***

Jensen's always had a problem with breaking habits. When he was a kid, it was nail biting. His mother even bought that shit to put on them, to make them taste so bad that there's no way he'd ever want to put his mouth near them again, but he always did. Could never resist when it was something he loved doing.

It's that lifelong predilection for bad habits that make him not throw out the pictures he has of Jared, that makes him not delete Jared's number from his phone. Sometimes he'll just stare at the entry in his address book and wonder what would happen if he called, where Jared would be and who he'd be with. Whether he'd even pick up.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he wants Jared back so bad he can hardly stand it.

But Jared fucked up, he fucked up big-time and he never once said he was sorry. Maybe if he had, Jensen would have taken him back. Some days he thinks he'd take him back if Jared said it even now.

But Jensen fucked up, too, and Jared's cold when he's angry. Cold and bitter and he never lets anything go. Jared holds onto shit and Jared wasn't the only one who cheated. Jensen can't imagine that Jared still has Jensen in his address book, or that he wakes up every morning and has to physically stop himself from reaching over to touch the empty space next to him.

It's pathetic and useless and it's so ridiculously déjà vu that he can't stand it.

Jared's been gone six weeks when Jensen gets the call from his agent. He has an audition for Heroes and it's a major role. He'd be playing Daniel, Niki's new boyfriend who's able to control the elements. He says he'll think about it; he wasn't intending on going back to TV in, well, ever. Then again, his main reason for quitting just fucked him over and moved out, so what the hell does he have to lose?

He aces the audition, even though the sides are still being rewritten five minutes before he goes in, which makes him blank a couple of times. He's been out of the TV game for so long that his ability to learn pages of dialogue in a heartbeat is pretty much shot. The casting director doesn't seem to care, though, and his agent calls him that afternoon to say it's down to him and one other.

It's another six weeks and countless screen tests before he has Moira screaming on the phone that he has his comeback role. He wants to tell her that a) he doesn't need a fucking comeback because he never left and b) what she's really excited about is her fifteen percent. He hangs up with this flutter in his chest; he's thrilled, of course, it's a great show and a great role and there's nothing holding him back. Nothing except being forced into the closet again, because it wouldn't pay for the new addition to the NBC stable to be outed as a fag, whose ex-boyfriend just happens to be an A-list rentboy, now, would it?

Ex. The word still sticks in his throat every time he tries to say it out loud, and sometimes he just forgets. After he gets the confirmation from Moira, he brings up Jared's name on his phone and almost hits dial. It's just instinct, and Jensen thinks that's the worst thing about breaking up with someone you love. The fact that every fiber in your body still wants to gravitate toward them, to call them, to see them, to hear their voice and gain their approval. No matter how much they've ripped your heart out and stomped on it.

Then there's the other reason for wanting to call him. Jensen gets a sick sense of satisfaction from thinking about calling Jared and telling him all about how successful Jensen is and how he's going to be the next big thing and "Oh, maybe that would've been how it was for you if you hadn't fucked your life up, and mine, and I hope you're fucking happy, you miserable little whore, because I'm really not."

So instead of calling Jared, he calls Tom and they celebrate the only way Tom knows how: cocktails and blow at The Ivy and Jensen getting sucked in his car by a hot little twink with frosted tips. He thanks God for the coke and the liquor warping his vision because he doesn't think he wants to hazard a guess as to how old the kid is.

Three months since Jared left and Jensen wonders when it's going to stop hurting. Wonders when he's going to be able to get his dick sucked or kiss someone or fuck them without feeling nothing. He's starting to think this is just how it's always going to be.

Continued in Part Three

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