Fic - "Watch As We Fall" | J2 | NC-17
Watch As We Fall
J2; Adult; 4200 words
The thing is, Jensen's really, really nice.
Notes: Thanks muchly to the ever awesome nu_breed and glendaglamazon for the betas. Two thumbs up. Will use again. This was written for my one-year anniversary of J2 fic. Yes, I'm self-involved enough that the only person I really write fic for is myself. Um, I hope you enjoy!
So. Yeah. The thing about Jensen is he's shy, right, but he's also really fucking nice; some might go so far as to call him chivalrous. Mama raised him right, and all that jazz. He's the kind of nice that holds open doors for everyone, doesn't kiss and tell, and would probably carry grocery bags across the street for little old ladies, if there were any shuffling around. He's the kind of nice that breaks up with girls and still has pictures of them up on his mantle. Like Danneel, for example; he broke it off with her over three months ago, only she still has him on speed dial for days when she's feeling down. When Jared and Sandy called it quits she sold everything he ever touched on EBay. Jensen, on the other hand, got a fucking life-long friendship out of his breakup.
The other thing about Jensen? He's really, really pretty. This isn't uncommon knowledge or a big surprise to anyone, but it's still true. Still out there. Jensen is really good looking, with his ridiculous green eyes and stupid puffy mouth, and that one-two combination: pretty and nice, well, it gets Jensen in trouble sometimes.
Like right now. Jared's been folded into a booth at Jack's Pub and Grill for over thirty minutes, alone with Bob and Jeff from lighting as the two drone on and on about Stargate Atlantis. And sure, Jared's a fan of fantasy - it's his bread and butter, after all - but he can only take so much of it. He's been waiting, very patiently, thank you very much, for Jensen to get his ass back to the table so Jared can have something to do other than nod and smile, but that seems like a lost cause.
He slides out of the cracked leather booth. This place isn’t far from set, and they're here enough that the novelty has worn off for most of the regulars. He doesn't really get many glances as he makes his way to the back, where Jensen is belly up to the bar and smiling brightly at a guy about Jared's height who's wearing a really sharky grin.
The dude's crowded in real close to Jensen, like he's trying to keep Jensen all to himself, like they might as well just breathe the same bar-stale air, and the way he's looking down at Jensen? Well, it's pretty clear he doesn't have the football game beaming from the TV on his mind. His beady eyes are zeroed in on Jensen's lips. As Jensen says something and gestures with his beer bottle, the guy nods like he's a bobble-head and smiles so widely his teeth glint.
Jensen's getting smiled like that by a lot of guys, lately.
And the thing is, Jensen can take care of himself, no problem. The first bar fight Jared had ever actually been in, Jensen was right there beside him, slamming his fist into some guy's nose and his elbow into another guy's gut. So, yeah, Jensen can totally fend for himself. He doesn't need Jared going all John Wayne on some stupid dude's ass to protect Jensen if the guy should get a little fresh. It's only -
It's only, it's been happening a lot more, this thing where Jensen's such a nice guy, incapable of telling some dude to fucking back off, that Jensen keeps ending up crowded into corners and leaned over against bars, as guys so clearly size up his mouth and his ass, and he never does anything about it.
Jared doesn't even hesitate. Drink in hand, he all but sidles up to the bar just in time to hear Jensen say, "Yeah, absolutely, man. I'd love to check it out. I was thinking about having one installed, actually."
The guy looks seriously thrilled. Jared resists the urge to push him over. Instead he slides a long arm around Jensen's broad, relaxed shoulders, and leans right over, pressing his face sloppily against Jensen's cheek.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" Jensen asks. His voice is rumbly against Jared and he brings a hand up to pat at Jared's shoulders.
Jensen smells like his familiar spicy cinnamon aftershave and icy cold wind. Jared's gotten real good at playing drunk. He slurs his words a little when he murmurs, "'M tired. Wanna go t' bed." It's loud enough that the dude still staring at Jensen like he's a chocolate bon bon will hear and get the picture, and quiet enough to be intimate. The together hangs there between them all, unspoken.
Jensen doesn't even bat an eye. "Yeah?" he says. "You were perfectly sober when I left, man."
"Shots," Jared lies. He rolls his head a bit, resting it on Jensen's shoulder, as he glares up at the dude Jensen's talking to. "Let's go home." He's perfectly aware of how this looks, and Jared's insides give a little thrill when Jensen just nods, like this is an everyday thing, like Jared always searches Jensen out when he's ready to go home.
"Alright, man, let's take you home." Jensen extracts himself from Jared's arms, though he keeps a hand on the small of Jared's back, as if to keep him steady. He extends the other hand. "Ryan," he says, "it was real nice to meet you."
Ryan's pretty gracious about the whole thing. He doesn't even let the smile drop from his face. He just shakes Jensen's hand and says the invitation's always there and then takes a step back, meeting Jared's eyes as if saying no harm meant, man. Jared thinks maybe he should be insulted on Jensen's behalf because there's something in Ryan's manner that suggests he thinks Jensen's Jared's property. Instead he just gives Ryan a mean, toothy grin and lets Jensen herd him out of the bar into the bitter cold air, breathing in so deeply it burns his lungs and wondering if he and Jensen need to have a talk.
It doesn't happen again for two weeks. This time they're in LA, and it's Ed Westwick's birthday, so it's a private club filled with about six hundred of Ed's closest friends. Jared's familiar with about half the faces in the place, most of them on the dance floor bumping and grinding to some truly awful music that's loud enough to feel like he's getting waked in the face every time the bass pulses, and when he gets back from the bathroom where two guys he recognizes from the remake of 90210 were snorting blow, he finds that Jensen has left their table empty.
He squints through the strobe lights and fog machines, and really, what is this, 1996? Who the fuck has fog machines anymore? He searches through the dark and finally spots Jensen sitting at another table, cradling a Jack and Diet in one hand and leaning close to some dude with bright blond tips who's got a hand on Jensen's shoulder. Even from where he is, through the fog and the darkness, Jared can see the guy sizing Jensen up, eyes moving quickly, almost frantically, from Jensen's mouth to the open button of his black, collared shirt before focusing on Jensen's eyes real hard, like he's listening intently to whatever it is Jensen's talking about.
Jared's pretty sure the guy's about to make a move, and his hand is still on Jensen's shoulder.
He leaves his drink on the empty table, schools his face into something resembling a smile, and pushes through the crowd, finally coming to a stop right beside Jensen's chair. He bends down to grab the drink out of Jensen's hand, letting his thighs rest against Jensen's side, and feels a little kick when Jensen doesn't move away from the contact.
He sucks about half of Jensen's drink down in one go, feeling Jensen's eyes on him the whole time, before bending down low enough that Blondie has to move his damn hand off Jensen's shoulder to get out of Jared's way.
"This place is lame," Jared yells over the thumping bass. He gives Blondie a pointed glare. "Let's get the fuck out of here. Go home; maybe play some Guitar Hero before bed."
Jensen's eyebrows scrunch together with confusion. He gives his watch a pointed look, and for a second Jared thinks he's gonna turn him down, and then Jared's gonna feel really fucking stupid. Jensen, though, just gives Jared a nod, confusion still written all over his stupidly pretty face.
Jared doesn't even bother hiding his predatory smile as Jensen shakes Blondie's hand and stands up. For a brief second, Jared stays put, so Jensen's chest brushes against his. They leave without telling anyone goodbye, and Jared keeps his hand on Jensen's shoulder. It's easy to get lost in this crowd.
Once outside, Jensen says, real quiet, "You gotta stop doing this, man," but Jared makes a big show of trying to locate his cell phone, and pretends like he can't hear him above the quiet of the parking lot.
Last week Jared had tried to think of a tactful way to ask Jensen if he had suddenly turned gay.
The conversation had gone something like this:
Jared: You got anything you wanna tell me?
Jensen: You have a specific topic in mind, Jay, or are we going off the cusp?
Jared: Guys.
Jensen: You want to talk about guys.
Jared: Well, I was actually thinking maybe you wanted to talk about 'em.
Jensen: You want me to talk about guys.
Jared: Only if you want to.
Jensen: Did you fall down and hurt your brain?
And Jensen had looked at him like he'd maybe grown another head, but with this smirk playing around his mouth, like he knew something Jared didn't, which was obviously the case. Finally, Jared had just mumbled never mind and pretended he was real interested in the fried chicken being served for lunch, not at all paying attention to the way Jensen's fingers curled around a carrot stick. Jensen let it go with a shrug, for which Jared was mostly grateful.
This time, after he untangles himself from some girl named Chrissy or Misty or Erin at the bar to find yet another empty table, he's not really even surprised to spot Jensen crowded into a corner, a guy a little taller than him with a red baseball cap and narrow hips nodding thoughtfully down at Jensen.
Jared's all set to swoop in, Jensen's fucking white knight, but he hesitates for just a minute. Jensen's got his back pressed against the corner wall, a Labbatt Blue neon light right above his head that shines brightly on him, highlighting his face as his eyes narrow thoughtfully at the guy. Jensen's shoulders are broader than the guy's, and he could easily take him down with one well-aimed right hook. But what happens is this:
The guy fakes a shove from someone behind him. It's not a good fake, he's not being subtle about it, and suddenly Jensen's got a chest full of dude, and their hips are lined up pretty neatly. Instead of taking a swing though, Jensen reaches out to steady him, big hands that Jared has seen wield a hammer and cock a gun and caress movie scripts like they were a woman's thigh - one of those hands curls briefly against the guy's hip.
They really look like they're gonna go for it. Jared can see how it'll play out. Jensen's mouth'll twist in a quirky grin, and his laugh'll rumble out. The guy'll bend low, maybe whisper something inane, something like you wanna get out'a here? and Jensen won't even hesitate before he nods.
They'll go back to the guy's place, because Jensen can't really risk bringing some dude home to his condo, and the guy'll have black cotton sheets that he'll spread Jensen out on, all pale, freckled skin; he'll probably suck Jensen's cock and kiss his mouth and tell him how fucking hot he is. Maybe he'll even fuck Jensen, get him on all fours and slide slick and greedy into him.
Jared gets all that from Jensen's hand resting briefly on the guy's hip, and when Misty or Chrissy or whatever the fuck her name is walks by, he takes her up on the offer in her pretty red smile.
Twenty minutes later, she's on her knees in front of him, kneeling on his jacket so her skin doesn't get scraped up (he can be a gentlemen, too, he thinks), and he tries really hard to keep his eyes open, to stare at the top of her head bobbing up and down, so he doesn't let his eyelids drop to the image of needy green eyes as his orgasm cuts through him.
When he finally exits the bathroom, he's not surprised to find that Jensen's long gone.
Two days later they're on set, in the makeup trailer alone because Jeanie stepped out five minutes ago, and Jared's never been good at keeping his mouth shut.
"What the fuck happened to you at Jack's?"
Jensen's examining himself in the mirror, electric razor buzzing as he gets ready to give himself his usual Dean-stubble. He glances over at Jared, all wide-eyed confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Where'd you go?"
"I went home, dude. Anyway, I think the important question is where did you go?" Jensen turns back and brings the razor up to his cheek, though his eyes stay focused on Jared in the mirror.
Jared gives a noncommittal answer. That's not the important question at all. The important question is this: "Did you let him fuck you?"
Jared can see Jensen's reflection. He watches Jensen's eyes go a fraction bigger and watches Jensen's mouth thin into a straight line. Jensen switches the razor off, and the silence in the trailer is loud.
"Who's him?" Jensen asks, but even through the mirror, Jared can tell Jensen's aiming for casual and missing the mark.
"Look," Jared hisses, whispering furiously in case any interested party is eavesdropping outside. "If you're having a big gay epiphany, maybe you ought to let me know, that's all I'm saying."
Jensen whirls around. He's still holding the razor. Jared watches him swallow. What Jensen says is something of a shock. "Why the fuck is it any of your business?" he asks, and his tone is perfectly even, like he's asking Jared about the weather.
Jared feels like he got punched. He feels like he got the wind knocked out of him. The anger rises up quickly. "Are you kidding? If my co-star suddenly decides he likes riding dick and then goes out to bars in Vancouver like it's fucking West Hollywood, I think I have a right to know."
Jensen stares at him for a moment. Jared almost wants him to throw a punch, but Jensen just turns back to the mirror and flips on the razor again. Above the buzzing, he says, "I wouldn’t have expected you to be such a homophobic prick, man," like he's disappointed.
"Yeah, why the hell not?"
In the mirror, Jensen meets his eyes again. "You figure it out," he says, like that's any sort of answer. He moves his gaze back to the mirror and lifts his chin a little to make his neck taut. Jared's about to ask him what the fuck he's supposed to figure out, but Jeanie comes back in with a tubful of fake blood and orders Jared to sit down before he can say anything at all.
Jared feels like he's missing something really important, but he can't figure out what it is.
They got to set at noon and stayed 'til eleven, and most of the shoot was spent running from point A to point B thirty six times, all the while reciting nearly eight pages of dialog.
After his shower, Jared brings a peace offering in the form of a joint to Jensen's trailer, and they smoke it, hotboxing in the freezing car before they go meet up with Welling and Steve, a pretty regular director on Smallville.
Jensen and Jared are in the booth by themselves, both with a bottle of pretentious imported beer in front of them. Welling's going through a pretty messy divorce and he's always got his phone pressed up against his ear with his publicist or his manager or his soon-to-be ex-wife yelling at him through the ear piece, trying to keep his name out of the rags. Twenty minutes ago he excused himself with a put upon sigh, glancing glumly at his vibrating cell. Steve's over at the pool table chatting up a hot little number who's pretty much crushing him at a game of eight ball. Jared and Jensen are both enjoying the show.
The place isn't too crowded, just after midnight on a Tuesday night, and Jared lets his thighs fall open heavily, no big deal, until he's pressed right up against Jensen. This isn't anything new - touching, comfortable with one another. He's feeling loose and pretty fucking high, and his hand sort of falls on Jensen's leg, where the muscle's real hard. And yeah, that's maybe a little bit new.
Beside him, it's like Jensen has stopped breathing, and Jared's own chest feels packed tight with cotton, like every time he takes a breath, he's getting no oxygen at all. He moves his hand, just a little, like maybe he's gonna pull back but doesn’t and instead ends up smoothing his fingertips across Jensen's expensive designer jeans. Jensen's thigh is hot and stiff, and out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see Jensen blinking quickly.
Welling plops down across from them and Jared pulls away so fast he thinks maybe he's strained a muscle. "Fucking women," Welling murmurs. "You two wanna hit some Cuervo?"
Jared shakes his head quickly, feeling his face heat up. He blinks thickly and thinks, fuck. It's a second before he can trust his voice to speak.
"No, man," he can hear Jensen answer. "I, uh, got an early call tomorrow. Think I'm gonna head out. Rain check?"
Welling looks a little disappointed, but he doesn't put up a fuss. He hoists his eyebrows up into his hairline and casts a look at Jared. "Jay, man, you up for some booze?"
Jared shakes his head. He can feel Jensen's eyes on him. "I'm gonna call it a night, too." He forces himself to meet Jensen's eyes. "Can you give me a ride?"
Jensen licks his lips thoughtfully, and Jared feels heat sweep across the back of his neck. He's more than a little relieved when Jensen agrees with a slow nod.
"Suit yourselves, fuckin' pussies," Welling says good-naturedly, and he's up and out of the booth, yelling something to Steve about needing a real man to hang out with.
Jensen's car still smells like weed. The radio's on low when the engine starts up, but Jensen cranks the volume up, probably so they won't have to talk. Jared stares out the window and watches the snowy night glide by, moonlight that glints off wet, brown slush, and misses Texas so quickly and fiercely he has to hold his breath to keep from making a sound.
It's a fifteen minute drive to Jared's place, and before Jensen even has the car thrown into park, Jared looks at him with his eyebrows raised up and says, "You comin' in?"
The engine shuts off, and their feet make crunching noises in the snow on the way to Jared's garage, where he punches in the code.
Sadie and Harley greet them both with a whole lot of enthusiasm, and to distract himself, Jared makes a big show of filling both their water dishes. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jensen bends down to whisper, "Hey, girl, how are ya?" real low, right in Sadie's dog-breathy face.
After Sadie and Harley bound out the sliding back door, and Jared flips on the kitchen light and grabs two beers out of the fridge, handing one silently over to Jensen, he presses his back against the counter and forces himself to meet Jensen's eyes.
Jensen opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but shuts it quickly. He slips off his jacket and seems very, very invested in hanging it smoothly over the back of one of the stools pushed up against the granite island in the middle of the kitchen.
Jared takes a sip from his beer and watches Jensen. Finally, Jensen sighs. He brings his gaze up and meets Jared's eyes across the expanse of the kitchen. His beer sits unopen on the counter. "We gonna talk about it?"
"Did you go home with him?" Jared asks, almost immediately. There's no use pretending it hasn't been weighing heavily on his mind all night.
This time, Jensen doesn't fake like he's clueless. "Would it matter if I did?"
Jared shrugs and scrapes at the label of his bottle with a blunt fingernail.
Jensen says, "Jay?"
Jared shrugs again. "It might matter," he mumbles. "Did you?"
There's a long pause before Jensen finally says, "No, I didn't," and Jared feels himself release a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Jensen continues, "I'm not saying I maybe didn't want to, but - "
"But what?" Jared feels like he's hanging on every word now. He lifts his gaze away from his beer bottle to find Jensen's eyes are heavy on him.
"Jesus, Jay, if you haven't figured it out by now…."
"So you are having a big gay epiphany."
Jensen gives a laugh that sounds a little like it hurts. "Might be," he says. "Would it matter to you?"
Jared abandons his beer on the counter and shifts forward, leaning onto his elbows over the island and looking Jensen square in the face. "'Course it would matter," he says.
"Why?"
Jared pushes himself away from the island and moves the three steps it takes to stand in front of Jensen. Jensen has to tilt his head back a little to meet Jared's eyes, and Jared lets a small smile twist his lips. He says, "If you haven't figured that out by now," and watches Jensen nod almost imperceptibly to himself, as if making a decision.
The thing about Jensen is, once he's made a decision, he doesn't do it half-assed. That's something that Jared really, really likes about him.
The first kiss isn't like any first kiss he's ever had, but then again, Jared's never kissed a dude before. Jensen's lips are hard, and he tastes a lot like beer and a little like pot. His shoulders are wide and his hands are big. There's stubble and a hard chest that pushes up against Jared, and Jared's whole body trips to hard fuck yes now faster than he can beg for it.
He's actually pretty damn surprised they make it to his bedroom. Jensen makes these sounds, these rumbly sex-sounds, half frustrated, half breathy come ons, and Jared sets out to map all his freckles, intent on seeing how many noises he can wring from Jensen's throat.
They don't even bother to get naked before their dicks are lined up, and it's the friction that sets them off. Jensen has one big sweaty hand wrapped around them both, and Jared slides through it, cock leaking pre-come, as he tries to kiss Jensen but ends up pretty much just breathing against his mouth as he pushes his hips frantically against Jensen, too turned on to do more than squeeze his eyes shut and stutter Jensen's name.
The orgasm comes fast and quick, and it feels like he's been waiting on it forever. It leaves him sagging bonelessly against Jensen's body, too blissed out to even do more than clean them up with a discarded t-shirt before falling fast asleep, his arm thrown casually over Jensen's shining chest.
Jared wakes up to an empty spot beside him in his big bed. Even with the blankets pulled up around him like someone tucked him in, he feels cold. He spends the morning in his guestroom turned gym, alternating between wanting to throw up and worried that maybe, for Jensen, the big gay epiphany is over, even though Jared feels like for him it's just begun.
He's due on set at eleven, and because he and Jensen live so far away from each other, they rarely get to ride into work together anymore. Sally picks him up at 10:30, and Jared sits in the back, pretending to study his script so he doesn't have to talk.
They pull into the lot at five 'til eleven. When Jared walks into his trailer, Jensen's already there, sitting on his couch. Jared feels a smile break on his face before he thinks better of it. Maybe Jensen's here to tell him they made a mistake, but the way he quickly stands and nervously wipes his hand on his thigh tells Jared something else. Jared lets his smile linger. The thing about Jensen, Jared figures, is that he knows Jared better than just about anyone else.
Jensen smiles back. "You figure it out?" he says.
Jared nods.
The end.
J2; Adult; 4200 words
The thing is, Jensen's really, really nice.
Notes: Thanks muchly to the ever awesome nu_breed and glendaglamazon for the betas. Two thumbs up. Will use again. This was written for my one-year anniversary of J2 fic. Yes, I'm self-involved enough that the only person I really write fic for is myself. Um, I hope you enjoy!
So. Yeah. The thing about Jensen is he's shy, right, but he's also really fucking nice; some might go so far as to call him chivalrous. Mama raised him right, and all that jazz. He's the kind of nice that holds open doors for everyone, doesn't kiss and tell, and would probably carry grocery bags across the street for little old ladies, if there were any shuffling around. He's the kind of nice that breaks up with girls and still has pictures of them up on his mantle. Like Danneel, for example; he broke it off with her over three months ago, only she still has him on speed dial for days when she's feeling down. When Jared and Sandy called it quits she sold everything he ever touched on EBay. Jensen, on the other hand, got a fucking life-long friendship out of his breakup.
The other thing about Jensen? He's really, really pretty. This isn't uncommon knowledge or a big surprise to anyone, but it's still true. Still out there. Jensen is really good looking, with his ridiculous green eyes and stupid puffy mouth, and that one-two combination: pretty and nice, well, it gets Jensen in trouble sometimes.
Like right now. Jared's been folded into a booth at Jack's Pub and Grill for over thirty minutes, alone with Bob and Jeff from lighting as the two drone on and on about Stargate Atlantis. And sure, Jared's a fan of fantasy - it's his bread and butter, after all - but he can only take so much of it. He's been waiting, very patiently, thank you very much, for Jensen to get his ass back to the table so Jared can have something to do other than nod and smile, but that seems like a lost cause.
He slides out of the cracked leather booth. This place isn’t far from set, and they're here enough that the novelty has worn off for most of the regulars. He doesn't really get many glances as he makes his way to the back, where Jensen is belly up to the bar and smiling brightly at a guy about Jared's height who's wearing a really sharky grin.
The dude's crowded in real close to Jensen, like he's trying to keep Jensen all to himself, like they might as well just breathe the same bar-stale air, and the way he's looking down at Jensen? Well, it's pretty clear he doesn't have the football game beaming from the TV on his mind. His beady eyes are zeroed in on Jensen's lips. As Jensen says something and gestures with his beer bottle, the guy nods like he's a bobble-head and smiles so widely his teeth glint.
Jensen's getting smiled like that by a lot of guys, lately.
And the thing is, Jensen can take care of himself, no problem. The first bar fight Jared had ever actually been in, Jensen was right there beside him, slamming his fist into some guy's nose and his elbow into another guy's gut. So, yeah, Jensen can totally fend for himself. He doesn't need Jared going all John Wayne on some stupid dude's ass to protect Jensen if the guy should get a little fresh. It's only -
It's only, it's been happening a lot more, this thing where Jensen's such a nice guy, incapable of telling some dude to fucking back off, that Jensen keeps ending up crowded into corners and leaned over against bars, as guys so clearly size up his mouth and his ass, and he never does anything about it.
Jared doesn't even hesitate. Drink in hand, he all but sidles up to the bar just in time to hear Jensen say, "Yeah, absolutely, man. I'd love to check it out. I was thinking about having one installed, actually."
The guy looks seriously thrilled. Jared resists the urge to push him over. Instead he slides a long arm around Jensen's broad, relaxed shoulders, and leans right over, pressing his face sloppily against Jensen's cheek.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" Jensen asks. His voice is rumbly against Jared and he brings a hand up to pat at Jared's shoulders.
Jensen smells like his familiar spicy cinnamon aftershave and icy cold wind. Jared's gotten real good at playing drunk. He slurs his words a little when he murmurs, "'M tired. Wanna go t' bed." It's loud enough that the dude still staring at Jensen like he's a chocolate bon bon will hear and get the picture, and quiet enough to be intimate. The together hangs there between them all, unspoken.
Jensen doesn't even bat an eye. "Yeah?" he says. "You were perfectly sober when I left, man."
"Shots," Jared lies. He rolls his head a bit, resting it on Jensen's shoulder, as he glares up at the dude Jensen's talking to. "Let's go home." He's perfectly aware of how this looks, and Jared's insides give a little thrill when Jensen just nods, like this is an everyday thing, like Jared always searches Jensen out when he's ready to go home.
"Alright, man, let's take you home." Jensen extracts himself from Jared's arms, though he keeps a hand on the small of Jared's back, as if to keep him steady. He extends the other hand. "Ryan," he says, "it was real nice to meet you."
Ryan's pretty gracious about the whole thing. He doesn't even let the smile drop from his face. He just shakes Jensen's hand and says the invitation's always there and then takes a step back, meeting Jared's eyes as if saying no harm meant, man. Jared thinks maybe he should be insulted on Jensen's behalf because there's something in Ryan's manner that suggests he thinks Jensen's Jared's property. Instead he just gives Ryan a mean, toothy grin and lets Jensen herd him out of the bar into the bitter cold air, breathing in so deeply it burns his lungs and wondering if he and Jensen need to have a talk.
It doesn't happen again for two weeks. This time they're in LA, and it's Ed Westwick's birthday, so it's a private club filled with about six hundred of Ed's closest friends. Jared's familiar with about half the faces in the place, most of them on the dance floor bumping and grinding to some truly awful music that's loud enough to feel like he's getting waked in the face every time the bass pulses, and when he gets back from the bathroom where two guys he recognizes from the remake of 90210 were snorting blow, he finds that Jensen has left their table empty.
He squints through the strobe lights and fog machines, and really, what is this, 1996? Who the fuck has fog machines anymore? He searches through the dark and finally spots Jensen sitting at another table, cradling a Jack and Diet in one hand and leaning close to some dude with bright blond tips who's got a hand on Jensen's shoulder. Even from where he is, through the fog and the darkness, Jared can see the guy sizing Jensen up, eyes moving quickly, almost frantically, from Jensen's mouth to the open button of his black, collared shirt before focusing on Jensen's eyes real hard, like he's listening intently to whatever it is Jensen's talking about.
Jared's pretty sure the guy's about to make a move, and his hand is still on Jensen's shoulder.
He leaves his drink on the empty table, schools his face into something resembling a smile, and pushes through the crowd, finally coming to a stop right beside Jensen's chair. He bends down to grab the drink out of Jensen's hand, letting his thighs rest against Jensen's side, and feels a little kick when Jensen doesn't move away from the contact.
He sucks about half of Jensen's drink down in one go, feeling Jensen's eyes on him the whole time, before bending down low enough that Blondie has to move his damn hand off Jensen's shoulder to get out of Jared's way.
"This place is lame," Jared yells over the thumping bass. He gives Blondie a pointed glare. "Let's get the fuck out of here. Go home; maybe play some Guitar Hero before bed."
Jensen's eyebrows scrunch together with confusion. He gives his watch a pointed look, and for a second Jared thinks he's gonna turn him down, and then Jared's gonna feel really fucking stupid. Jensen, though, just gives Jared a nod, confusion still written all over his stupidly pretty face.
Jared doesn't even bother hiding his predatory smile as Jensen shakes Blondie's hand and stands up. For a brief second, Jared stays put, so Jensen's chest brushes against his. They leave without telling anyone goodbye, and Jared keeps his hand on Jensen's shoulder. It's easy to get lost in this crowd.
Once outside, Jensen says, real quiet, "You gotta stop doing this, man," but Jared makes a big show of trying to locate his cell phone, and pretends like he can't hear him above the quiet of the parking lot.
Last week Jared had tried to think of a tactful way to ask Jensen if he had suddenly turned gay.
The conversation had gone something like this:
Jared: You got anything you wanna tell me?
Jensen: You have a specific topic in mind, Jay, or are we going off the cusp?
Jared: Guys.
Jensen: You want to talk about guys.
Jared: Well, I was actually thinking maybe you wanted to talk about 'em.
Jensen: You want me to talk about guys.
Jared: Only if you want to.
Jensen: Did you fall down and hurt your brain?
And Jensen had looked at him like he'd maybe grown another head, but with this smirk playing around his mouth, like he knew something Jared didn't, which was obviously the case. Finally, Jared had just mumbled never mind and pretended he was real interested in the fried chicken being served for lunch, not at all paying attention to the way Jensen's fingers curled around a carrot stick. Jensen let it go with a shrug, for which Jared was mostly grateful.
This time, after he untangles himself from some girl named Chrissy or Misty or Erin at the bar to find yet another empty table, he's not really even surprised to spot Jensen crowded into a corner, a guy a little taller than him with a red baseball cap and narrow hips nodding thoughtfully down at Jensen.
Jared's all set to swoop in, Jensen's fucking white knight, but he hesitates for just a minute. Jensen's got his back pressed against the corner wall, a Labbatt Blue neon light right above his head that shines brightly on him, highlighting his face as his eyes narrow thoughtfully at the guy. Jensen's shoulders are broader than the guy's, and he could easily take him down with one well-aimed right hook. But what happens is this:
The guy fakes a shove from someone behind him. It's not a good fake, he's not being subtle about it, and suddenly Jensen's got a chest full of dude, and their hips are lined up pretty neatly. Instead of taking a swing though, Jensen reaches out to steady him, big hands that Jared has seen wield a hammer and cock a gun and caress movie scripts like they were a woman's thigh - one of those hands curls briefly against the guy's hip.
They really look like they're gonna go for it. Jared can see how it'll play out. Jensen's mouth'll twist in a quirky grin, and his laugh'll rumble out. The guy'll bend low, maybe whisper something inane, something like you wanna get out'a here? and Jensen won't even hesitate before he nods.
They'll go back to the guy's place, because Jensen can't really risk bringing some dude home to his condo, and the guy'll have black cotton sheets that he'll spread Jensen out on, all pale, freckled skin; he'll probably suck Jensen's cock and kiss his mouth and tell him how fucking hot he is. Maybe he'll even fuck Jensen, get him on all fours and slide slick and greedy into him.
Jared gets all that from Jensen's hand resting briefly on the guy's hip, and when Misty or Chrissy or whatever the fuck her name is walks by, he takes her up on the offer in her pretty red smile.
Twenty minutes later, she's on her knees in front of him, kneeling on his jacket so her skin doesn't get scraped up (he can be a gentlemen, too, he thinks), and he tries really hard to keep his eyes open, to stare at the top of her head bobbing up and down, so he doesn't let his eyelids drop to the image of needy green eyes as his orgasm cuts through him.
When he finally exits the bathroom, he's not surprised to find that Jensen's long gone.
Two days later they're on set, in the makeup trailer alone because Jeanie stepped out five minutes ago, and Jared's never been good at keeping his mouth shut.
"What the fuck happened to you at Jack's?"
Jensen's examining himself in the mirror, electric razor buzzing as he gets ready to give himself his usual Dean-stubble. He glances over at Jared, all wide-eyed confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Where'd you go?"
"I went home, dude. Anyway, I think the important question is where did you go?" Jensen turns back and brings the razor up to his cheek, though his eyes stay focused on Jared in the mirror.
Jared gives a noncommittal answer. That's not the important question at all. The important question is this: "Did you let him fuck you?"
Jared can see Jensen's reflection. He watches Jensen's eyes go a fraction bigger and watches Jensen's mouth thin into a straight line. Jensen switches the razor off, and the silence in the trailer is loud.
"Who's him?" Jensen asks, but even through the mirror, Jared can tell Jensen's aiming for casual and missing the mark.
"Look," Jared hisses, whispering furiously in case any interested party is eavesdropping outside. "If you're having a big gay epiphany, maybe you ought to let me know, that's all I'm saying."
Jensen whirls around. He's still holding the razor. Jared watches him swallow. What Jensen says is something of a shock. "Why the fuck is it any of your business?" he asks, and his tone is perfectly even, like he's asking Jared about the weather.
Jared feels like he got punched. He feels like he got the wind knocked out of him. The anger rises up quickly. "Are you kidding? If my co-star suddenly decides he likes riding dick and then goes out to bars in Vancouver like it's fucking West Hollywood, I think I have a right to know."
Jensen stares at him for a moment. Jared almost wants him to throw a punch, but Jensen just turns back to the mirror and flips on the razor again. Above the buzzing, he says, "I wouldn’t have expected you to be such a homophobic prick, man," like he's disappointed.
"Yeah, why the hell not?"
In the mirror, Jensen meets his eyes again. "You figure it out," he says, like that's any sort of answer. He moves his gaze back to the mirror and lifts his chin a little to make his neck taut. Jared's about to ask him what the fuck he's supposed to figure out, but Jeanie comes back in with a tubful of fake blood and orders Jared to sit down before he can say anything at all.
Jared feels like he's missing something really important, but he can't figure out what it is.
They got to set at noon and stayed 'til eleven, and most of the shoot was spent running from point A to point B thirty six times, all the while reciting nearly eight pages of dialog.
After his shower, Jared brings a peace offering in the form of a joint to Jensen's trailer, and they smoke it, hotboxing in the freezing car before they go meet up with Welling and Steve, a pretty regular director on Smallville.
Jensen and Jared are in the booth by themselves, both with a bottle of pretentious imported beer in front of them. Welling's going through a pretty messy divorce and he's always got his phone pressed up against his ear with his publicist or his manager or his soon-to-be ex-wife yelling at him through the ear piece, trying to keep his name out of the rags. Twenty minutes ago he excused himself with a put upon sigh, glancing glumly at his vibrating cell. Steve's over at the pool table chatting up a hot little number who's pretty much crushing him at a game of eight ball. Jared and Jensen are both enjoying the show.
The place isn't too crowded, just after midnight on a Tuesday night, and Jared lets his thighs fall open heavily, no big deal, until he's pressed right up against Jensen. This isn't anything new - touching, comfortable with one another. He's feeling loose and pretty fucking high, and his hand sort of falls on Jensen's leg, where the muscle's real hard. And yeah, that's maybe a little bit new.
Beside him, it's like Jensen has stopped breathing, and Jared's own chest feels packed tight with cotton, like every time he takes a breath, he's getting no oxygen at all. He moves his hand, just a little, like maybe he's gonna pull back but doesn’t and instead ends up smoothing his fingertips across Jensen's expensive designer jeans. Jensen's thigh is hot and stiff, and out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see Jensen blinking quickly.
Welling plops down across from them and Jared pulls away so fast he thinks maybe he's strained a muscle. "Fucking women," Welling murmurs. "You two wanna hit some Cuervo?"
Jared shakes his head quickly, feeling his face heat up. He blinks thickly and thinks, fuck. It's a second before he can trust his voice to speak.
"No, man," he can hear Jensen answer. "I, uh, got an early call tomorrow. Think I'm gonna head out. Rain check?"
Welling looks a little disappointed, but he doesn't put up a fuss. He hoists his eyebrows up into his hairline and casts a look at Jared. "Jay, man, you up for some booze?"
Jared shakes his head. He can feel Jensen's eyes on him. "I'm gonna call it a night, too." He forces himself to meet Jensen's eyes. "Can you give me a ride?"
Jensen licks his lips thoughtfully, and Jared feels heat sweep across the back of his neck. He's more than a little relieved when Jensen agrees with a slow nod.
"Suit yourselves, fuckin' pussies," Welling says good-naturedly, and he's up and out of the booth, yelling something to Steve about needing a real man to hang out with.
Jensen's car still smells like weed. The radio's on low when the engine starts up, but Jensen cranks the volume up, probably so they won't have to talk. Jared stares out the window and watches the snowy night glide by, moonlight that glints off wet, brown slush, and misses Texas so quickly and fiercely he has to hold his breath to keep from making a sound.
It's a fifteen minute drive to Jared's place, and before Jensen even has the car thrown into park, Jared looks at him with his eyebrows raised up and says, "You comin' in?"
The engine shuts off, and their feet make crunching noises in the snow on the way to Jared's garage, where he punches in the code.
Sadie and Harley greet them both with a whole lot of enthusiasm, and to distract himself, Jared makes a big show of filling both their water dishes. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jensen bends down to whisper, "Hey, girl, how are ya?" real low, right in Sadie's dog-breathy face.
After Sadie and Harley bound out the sliding back door, and Jared flips on the kitchen light and grabs two beers out of the fridge, handing one silently over to Jensen, he presses his back against the counter and forces himself to meet Jensen's eyes.
Jensen opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but shuts it quickly. He slips off his jacket and seems very, very invested in hanging it smoothly over the back of one of the stools pushed up against the granite island in the middle of the kitchen.
Jared takes a sip from his beer and watches Jensen. Finally, Jensen sighs. He brings his gaze up and meets Jared's eyes across the expanse of the kitchen. His beer sits unopen on the counter. "We gonna talk about it?"
"Did you go home with him?" Jared asks, almost immediately. There's no use pretending it hasn't been weighing heavily on his mind all night.
This time, Jensen doesn't fake like he's clueless. "Would it matter if I did?"
Jared shrugs and scrapes at the label of his bottle with a blunt fingernail.
Jensen says, "Jay?"
Jared shrugs again. "It might matter," he mumbles. "Did you?"
There's a long pause before Jensen finally says, "No, I didn't," and Jared feels himself release a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Jensen continues, "I'm not saying I maybe didn't want to, but - "
"But what?" Jared feels like he's hanging on every word now. He lifts his gaze away from his beer bottle to find Jensen's eyes are heavy on him.
"Jesus, Jay, if you haven't figured it out by now…."
"So you are having a big gay epiphany."
Jensen gives a laugh that sounds a little like it hurts. "Might be," he says. "Would it matter to you?"
Jared abandons his beer on the counter and shifts forward, leaning onto his elbows over the island and looking Jensen square in the face. "'Course it would matter," he says.
"Why?"
Jared pushes himself away from the island and moves the three steps it takes to stand in front of Jensen. Jensen has to tilt his head back a little to meet Jared's eyes, and Jared lets a small smile twist his lips. He says, "If you haven't figured that out by now," and watches Jensen nod almost imperceptibly to himself, as if making a decision.
The thing about Jensen is, once he's made a decision, he doesn't do it half-assed. That's something that Jared really, really likes about him.
The first kiss isn't like any first kiss he's ever had, but then again, Jared's never kissed a dude before. Jensen's lips are hard, and he tastes a lot like beer and a little like pot. His shoulders are wide and his hands are big. There's stubble and a hard chest that pushes up against Jared, and Jared's whole body trips to hard fuck yes now faster than he can beg for it.
He's actually pretty damn surprised they make it to his bedroom. Jensen makes these sounds, these rumbly sex-sounds, half frustrated, half breathy come ons, and Jared sets out to map all his freckles, intent on seeing how many noises he can wring from Jensen's throat.
They don't even bother to get naked before their dicks are lined up, and it's the friction that sets them off. Jensen has one big sweaty hand wrapped around them both, and Jared slides through it, cock leaking pre-come, as he tries to kiss Jensen but ends up pretty much just breathing against his mouth as he pushes his hips frantically against Jensen, too turned on to do more than squeeze his eyes shut and stutter Jensen's name.
The orgasm comes fast and quick, and it feels like he's been waiting on it forever. It leaves him sagging bonelessly against Jensen's body, too blissed out to even do more than clean them up with a discarded t-shirt before falling fast asleep, his arm thrown casually over Jensen's shining chest.
Jared wakes up to an empty spot beside him in his big bed. Even with the blankets pulled up around him like someone tucked him in, he feels cold. He spends the morning in his guestroom turned gym, alternating between wanting to throw up and worried that maybe, for Jensen, the big gay epiphany is over, even though Jared feels like for him it's just begun.
He's due on set at eleven, and because he and Jensen live so far away from each other, they rarely get to ride into work together anymore. Sally picks him up at 10:30, and Jared sits in the back, pretending to study his script so he doesn't have to talk.
They pull into the lot at five 'til eleven. When Jared walks into his trailer, Jensen's already there, sitting on his couch. Jared feels a smile break on his face before he thinks better of it. Maybe Jensen's here to tell him they made a mistake, but the way he quickly stands and nervously wipes his hand on his thigh tells Jared something else. Jared lets his smile linger. The thing about Jensen, Jared figures, is that he knows Jared better than just about anyone else.
Jensen smiles back. "You figure it out?" he says.
Jared nods.
The end.