there moves a thread that has no end [jared padalecki/jensen ackles, nc-17, 20K]
Title: there moves a thread that has no end.
Author: keepaofthecheez
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles (minor Jensen/OMC’s, Jensen/OFC’s)
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 | m/m slash, real person fiction, abuse of schmoop
Word Count: 20,209 words.
Summary: Sometimes you get a second chance to see what’s right in front of you.
Notes: See end of fic. Written for spn_j2_bigbang.
There moves a thread that has no end.
By keepaofthecheez.
Cold Open.
“So, I’m gay. And I just wanted you to know. Officially and all.”
Last day of filming for the season, and Jared decides it’s the perfect opportunity to throw their comfortable “don’t ask, don’t tell” regime right out the fucking window. Then again, Padalecki’s never really been one for subtlety, so Jensen wonders why it’s even taken this long to find those big brown-green eyes gazing back at him, looking for all the world like Jared’s afraid. Of what, Jensen can’t figure out. Because it’s not like he doesn’t already know.
It’s been three months since Jared broke up with Sandy, since Jensen walked in on his friend and a guest star “rehearsing” one of the week’s final scenes in Jared’s trailer. Jensen couldn’t particularly recall the moment in question--“Uh, Sam doesn’t blow the motel clerk in my script, Jay”--and Jared was acting plenty weird enough after the fact that Jensen just didn’t bother joking around about it anymore.
Now, though. Apparently their time’s run out, making way for awkwardness and nervous tension. And really, it’s just plain dumb. Because, hell, Jensen gets it. And even if he didn’t, he still wouldn’t give a flying fuck if Jared liked it up the ass or down his throat. He just cares about Jared in the end.
And so he says as much, and there’s a split-second’s relief on Jared’s face before his friend’s eyes go all narrowed, pink lips pursing together. Jensen runs his words back through his head, trying to figure out where he might’ve possibly misstepped--“Well, uh, yeah, I kind of figured, man”--but Jared’s already got Jensen’s wrist between long fingers. Then he’s pulling Jensen back behind his trailer, and Jensen goes a little stiff. Remembers Jonathon’s moaning, hands wrapped in Jared’s messy curls, and Jared’s spit-slick, shiny mouth…
It comes out before he can think better of it, two shades too worried. Maybe something else less easy to put a name to. “Jared, I…I don’t like you that way.”
If he’s expecting hurt, guilt, anger, he’s sadly mistaken. Jared’s gaze widens, he lets go of Jensen’s arm as his mouth stretches, and then… And then he’s laughing, full-on cackling with his arms around his middle and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
“Dude, I’m not. Did you think…?” He can barely get it out between giggles, and Jensen’s starting to feel like a fucking sideshow at the carnival the way Jared’s staring at him. Disbelief, incredulity, edged with a hilarity that has Jensen’s hackles rising even as Jared adds, “Jensen, no. I’m not even trying to hit on you, man.”
“Then what the fuck?” His voice is cold, controlled, but Jensen can’t help it.
“I just wanted you to know, and like…if you had any questions or anything.” Jared’s laughter subsides to hiccups, and he sobers even more on catching the glare Jensen’s throwing his way. “Not everyone wants a ticket on the Ackles Express.”
Jensen has about three seconds to be offended--or should he be impressed?--and then Jared’s laughing again, the sound friendly and teasing, and Jensen can’t help but smile. Shove Jared’s shoulder. “Asshole.”
“Sooo not my type,” Jared sings, backing away and tossing off an extremely flamboyant handwave that has Jensen rolling his eyes. Jared’s teeth flash and he turns away, whistling.
“Where you going, anyway?” Jensen calls, hipshot against his car, keys in his hand. “Thought we were gonna meet up with the others, grab a drink?” Celebrate a season damned-well done, and bullshit each other about all the ways the network was gonna be bending over backwards to get them back next year.
Jared’s smile falters for a flash of a moment, and Jensen sees the end of their friendship through a blinding white tunnel. This is it, it’s all out now, we’re not gonna be able to…
“I’ll meet you there.”
Jensen just nods. The bright smile and ever-enthusiastic tone is back, and Jensen’s left wondering if he imagined the weird moment altogether.
xxx
“You boys are just growing up too damn quick for me to handle.” Mike taps his glass against Tom’s. “Second season a wrap…hell, I’m so proud. Somebody hold me.”
Jensen meets Jared’s gaze, lips turning up at the edges when Jared makes a face and scoots his chair closer toward Jensen. They’re both way too aware of Michael’s sentimentality when he’s drunk, and neither one of them want to get caught in the crossfire, wind up with a lipful of touchy-feely Rosenbaum.
Once was enough for Jensen, and he still hasn’t gotten the taste of Mike’s Listerine toothpaste out of his mouth from his farewell party on Smallville. Jared…well, Jensen’s not quite sure how exactly, but his friend definitely knows better, too.
Which leaves Tom, as per usual, not that Tom seems to give a damn. He’s patting Mike on the back, expression resigned and rumbly voice murmuring, “There, there” as Jensen and Jared lean close together and snicker. And everything feels back to normal.
“It’s just.” Michael sniffles, waving his hand and nearly upending some quality whiskey all over Tom’s shirt. “It’s just that, you know, it makes me all…Tom, what’s it make me again?”
“Nostalgic.”
“Right.” Michael turns toward his best friend, smooching Tom on the cheek. “That. You know me so well, Tommy boy.” He promptly passes out.
Tom sighs, gaze daring either of them to say anything. Jared mimes zipping his lips, and Jensen just grins. “So, what you guys got going for hiatus?” Tom asks, shifting in his seat so that Mike can lean comfortably against his shoulder, only to have his friend start snoring right into his neck. “Anything fun lined up?”
Never one to miss an opportunity for discreet debauchery--and Tom’s newly single status has made him more than a little willing to get up to some--Jensen perks up. Hopeful grin, spreading his hands out wide. “Hey, I’m open to suggestions.”
He shoots a look toward Jared, who’s smiling a bit goofily, and he already knows the words that’ll come out of his co-star’s mouth. Could recite them in his fucking sleep, even.
“I’m gonna head home for awhile, see the family.”
Tom and Jensen exchange meaningful glances.
Because it’s not that Jared going home is so out of the ordinary…in fact, that’s exactly the problem. Every time they get more than a weekend to themselves, Jared’s on the first plane back to San Antonio, and Jensen doesn’t see hide nor tail of his best friend until Jared shows up again at gate 13 of YVR. Secretly, he wonders if that’s the real reason Sandy finally up and gave Jared the kiss-off, until he remembers the whole thing with Jonathon--
“God…you’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you?”
--and yeah, maybe there was more to it than that.
Whatever’s written on his face, Jared seems to find something suspicious about it, because suddenly he’s staring straight at Jensen. Frowning a little, teeth glowing under the bar’s dim lamplight. “Or I could stick around…yeah?”
Jensen has an immediate, disturbing thought of those lips, that mouth, wide and wrapped around some big dick--ah, hell who’s he kidding?--and goes warm all over. Shakes his head. “N-No. You should definitely go.”
There’s a moment’s pause after his hesitant response, and then Tom’s looking at them both like they’re insane. Jensen refuses to meet Jared’s eyes while Tom tosses back a shot and mumbles, “Well, that wasn’t a little weird or anything.”
“Jensen,” Jared’s saying, too low for Tom to hear, and the thread of worry, of fucking friendly concern, is too much for Jensen to handle right about now. He backs away from Jared’s outstretched hand, coming to his feet with a smile that’s as fake as the one plastered across the face of that fucking nightmarish clown from the second episode of the season.
“Tired.” He forces a yawn and stretches both arms high over his head. “Gonna head home, m’self.” With a nod toward them both, he adds, “See you when I see you.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow night,” Jared calls after him, a troubled reminder, and Jensen waves it off and grabs his jacket.
xxx
Thing is, Jensen’s a lying liar who lies.
He’d screw Jared, sure, no questions asked, if he didn’t think Jared would go and fucking fall in love or something equally ridiculous in return. Because that’s just how his best friend is. Roses and hearts and moonlight, all the way, and Jensen’s more the condoms and sleazy hotel trysts and “don’t call me, I’ll call you” school of thought when it comes to sex.
If it could just be about mouths, tongues, getting off, then Jensen…well, he’d’ve had something else entirely in mind when Jared dropped his little gay-bomb the day before. Maybe he would’ve been the one to shove Jared up against the trailer wall, tug those baggy jeans down Jared’s hips and suck. Then keep right on until all that was left of that molasses Texas drawl was a filthy curse or two.
Because Jared’s hot, no two ways about it. And yeah, Jensen’s given it a thought. Or three. Or four. But now Jared’s gone and completely fucked things up by not even wanting Jensen in the first place, and Jensen…just isn’t sure how to handle that.
If Jared was straight, he could blow it off, easy. But Jared’s not straight, not even trying to pretend anymore, and by all rights he should be wanting a piece of the infamous Ackles ass right about now, begging for it, even. Was that really so much to ask?
Eh. Not that he’s going to fuck Jared anyway.
That decisive thought’s still lingering on his mind when his sheets are ripped back. Cool air sweeps across body parts already good and awake, and he lets out an undignified howl before registering the familiar grin above him. “Fucking son of a bitch!”
“Mornin’!” Jared’s all but bouncing on the bed as Jensen rolls to the other end, tries to burrow under a full-length body pillow. It doesn't help. He can still hear Jared’s brand of particularly evil laughter--followed by a friendly slap to the ass--and wonders what he ever thought was cute about his fucking co-star. “Get up, princess. We’re spending the day together!”
“I thought you were gone already.” Happy, happy, happy…incessantly happy. Too damn excited, too damn much. Jared in a nutshell, and Jensen’s jaw twitches. “Gimme my blankets back, bitch.”
A short-winded tug-of-war ensues, but Jared’s got pounds on his side, not to mention full cognizance of the situation. Jensen’s vision is still half-blurred from sleep, and his morning wood’s a definite handicap. He gives in around the time Jared’s leaning over him, bony knee pressed to the small of Jensen’s back. Unable to bite back a helpless groan, Jensen closes his eyes as his dick grinds against the mattress.
Jared goes still, breathing hard against Jensen’s neck. Heartbeat like a drumline marching across his brain, Jensen swallows back sixteen different cracks and settles for a lazy, “Now Jared, y’said I wasn’t your type.”
And just that easily, Jared’s chuckling again. He loosens his hold, rolling over to let Jensen sit up and meet his wide, toothy grin. “Such a smug prick.” Fond amusement colors Jared’s features and Jensen doesn’t argue the point. Mostly because he knows it’s true.
“Well, now that you’re up…” Jared snorts as he realizes the double entendre. He lies back against Jensen’s bed, all sprawling long limbs and floppy hair, watching while Jensen stumbles toward the dresser and starts rummaging around for a clean shirt. “Wear the green one.”
Jensen pauses, stares, and Jared shrugs his shoulders, already distracted by something else. Jensen turns back to the shirt, voice a low rumble. “Huh. The new and improved Gay Jared dispenses fashion advice. What other wonders await?”
“Jackass! I’ve always had fashion sense.”
“Yeah, nonsense.” But Jensen pulls the shirt over his head anyway, hiding the grin threatening to break free. This? He can handle. Still…he turns around, leans against the dresser with his best wide-eyed and pouty-lipped look of destruction. “Can’t we just hang out over here? Key words being hang over.” He pulls a face, rubs at temples still pounding from the effects of too much alcohol and not enough sleep.
Jared’s dimples dig down deep in his cheeks, eyes lighting up with unholy glee. “Sorry. The new and improved Gay Jared wants to go out, see the sights. You know, the ones we’ve never bothered with because we live like vampires?”
“Hey, I like it that vay,” Jensen drawls in exaggerated Bela Lugosi, eyebrows and fingers wiggling. Jared just rolls his eyes, and Jensen gives in without another thought. “All right, all right. Just…we’re not jumping out of any planes on an empty stomach. I’m putting my foot down.”
And if his dick responds when Jared smiles, well, Jensen won’t have to worry about it after tomorrow, anyway.
xxx
Come to think of it, Jensen actually hates Jared. A lot.
Hates his stupid floppy hair that won’t stay down, no matter how much fucking gel Jeannie tries to use. Hates his dumb jokes, pranks, hates his stupid pink shirts and big feet.
“Jesus, Jensen. You look like shit.”
Hates Jared’s tendency to state the fucking obvious.
“M’fine,” Jensen croaks out, vision blurry and more than a little green around the edges. The stupid wristband he bought from a vendor before they got on the ferry’s obviously a piece of crap, but it’s probably what Jensen deserves for putting any stock in that acupressure bullshit and not just taking a damned Dramamine to begin with.
The boat tips to the side, probably just a normal dip-and-roll, but Jensen’s fingers clench on the railing and he swallows down bile and shame. A second later, Jared’s there, rubbing his back, speaking in low, soothing tones.
“God, Jen, I didn’t know…you never said anything.”
It’s impossible to miss the worry coloring Jared’s voice. Ah, hell…fine, his jokes aren’t that dumb. Jensen leans back into those big hands, even if there are people around that might recognize them. Although, according to Jared, it’s not likely this early in the morning. Apparently their fanbase doesn’t run to the grandmothers and small children populating the nine AM harbor cruise crowd.
“I’m so sorry,” Jared’s saying when he finally tunes back in, and somehow the rumbly voice does more to steady Jensen’s nerves than the stupid wristband or pills or anything else. “Jen, if you can try…just look out at something. The horizon, I hear that’s supposed to help, right?”
“You askin’ me or tellin’ me?” The joke falls flat, Jensen’s humor only a ghostly shade of normal. The boat rocks again, his stomach rolls with it, and that’s just all she fucking wrote.
He vaguely hears a little girl saying, “Ew! Mommy, he’s throwing up!” before a cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he’s kneeling on the fiberglass bottom, hands wrapped around his middle and vomit stinging his nostrils.
Jared calls in brisk tones for help, and then there’s the pounding of heels like a fucking death march across Jensen’s skull. Before he can slump down, pass out like he very much wants to do, he’s being pulled to his feet and manuevered god only knows where.
“Here ya go, Jen.” It’s Jared again, giving Sam’s worried puppy routine more than its due justice. A glass of something cold is pressed up against his mouth, and he takes a tentative sip, feels blessed water slide down his throat. “There now, that’s right, drink it all up for me.”
Jensen pulls a face, but he takes another swallow. “Christ. Why don’t you just call me sweetheart an’ get it over with, Jaredina?”
“He always this crabby?” an amused voice asks, and Jared snorts.
“You oughta see him when you tell him you ate the last gummy bear.”
That’s it. Fuck you and your stupid fucking knock-knock jokes, Padalecki.
“I hate you.” Which, really, would probably sound way more effective if he weren’t ninety-nine percent sure it was Jared’s thigh he was currently using as a pillow.
There’s footsteps again, fading this time, and then Jared sighs. “I really am sorry, Jensen. I wouldn’t have…why didn’t you tell me you get seasick?”
Jensen sits up, fights back another dizzying wave of nausea. “S’no big deal.” Faking a smile that doesn’t fool Jared for a minute, he looks down and picks at the worthless band around his wrist. “Besides, this stupid thing was supposed to work.”
Long fingers push his out of the way, and then Jared’s bent over his arm, practically sitting in his lap. “You wearing it tight enough?” Jensen stares down, dumbly, at the head of dark hair. Fingers itching to touch.
“Uh.” What the hell were they even talking about anymore? “Yeah?”
Jared looks up, warm hazel gaze freezing Jensen in place. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me?”
Really, really pink. That’s all Jensen can concentrate on, and he wonders why he never really noticed that about Jared’s mouth before. Course, he’s thought plenty about Jared’s mouth…but always in this abstract, would-be-nice-if-I-could kind of way, and never with any real motivation behind it.
Suddenly, there’s worse things to consider than throwing up in front of a boatful of strangers.
Seeing the shore off in the near distance, he wipes the back of his mouth and winces at the acidic taste lingering on his tongue. “Can we just get the hell outta here?”
Jared hedges. “Well, I did kinda pay for the lunch buffet…”
Jensen’s eyes narrow. Jared laughs uneasily, stands up and offers Jensen a hand.
“Jesus, gonna give me nightmares for a week with that shit. C’mon, Up-Chuck. We’re leaving.”
Jensen groans a bit at the joke. “So lame, dude.”
“Sorry. Ralph, it is.”
Jensen shoves him into a wall when he passes by, and immediately feels much better.
xxx
They wind up settling for the Cappuchino Lounge at the Vancouver Lookout, given the fact that Jensen’s still too queasy to eat much and Jared’s too nice to stuff his own face in front of his sick friend.
“Not afraid of heights, are you?” Jared teases, and Jensen flips him the middle finger while staring out across the deck at the Vancouver skyline.
“How come we never did any of this shit when we first got here?” Jensen’s not even thinking about the fact that he’s all but validating Jared’s delusions that they should “get out more!” Or “experience everything the city has to offer!”--like some kind of deranged tourist pamphlet.
Jared just smiles a little, shrugs his shoulders. “We were busy, I guess.”
Just like that, it all comes crashing down. “Yeah.” Jensen musters up a grin of his own, reaches for his mug. “Guess that’s over for awhile, huh.”
They’ll be back. He knows it, Jared knows it, Eric and Kim know it…hell, the feisty new PA from Prince Edward Island fucking knows it. A few weeks from now Sam and Dean’ll be knee-deep in some new adventure and Jensen’ll be wondering--again--when he can find the nearest place to drop down dead.
“It won’t be so bad.” Jared shrugs, and Jensen knows his friend’s thinking the same unspoken thing: they’re gonna miss that damn shit. “God knows my mama’ll put me to work, soon as I get home.”
“Yeah, about that.” Jensen leans back in his chair. “What the hell, man? I dig your work ethic and all, but take a fucking break when it’s handed to you on a silver platter, you know?”
Jared’s brows furrow. “I take breaks.”
“You don’t even know what the word means.”
“Not all of us can lay around on our asses and look this pretty.” Jared kisses his own bicep, batting his lashes. Jensen flicks a peanut at him, and Jared laughs. “Seriously Jen, what’re you even gonna do?”
Folding his arms across his belly, legs spread wide, Jensen lets out a contented sigh. “Absolutely nothing, Big Jay. As much as possible.”
“Uh-huh. Well, just…don’t be a fool, wrap your tool.”
Jensen blinks. “Come again?”
“Please, I’m tryin’ to eat.” Jared pops a french fry in his mouth and looks back at Jensen innocently.
xxx
“Well?” Jared’s beaming from ear to ear, and Jensen can only shake his head and try not to laugh.
“I throw my guts up on the ferry, and so you decide to bring us to an aquarium.”
Jared’s smile gets bigger, as if the demented logic actually makes sense, which to Jared…it probably does. “Exactly! If you can’t go to the ocean, I’ll bring the ocean to you. Safely, from behind thick plated-glass, because that’s just the kind of friend I am. No need to thank me.”
“No need to worry.” But Jensen’s more amused than he wants to admit, especially when Jared comes to a grinding halt in front of the main tank attraction, eyes wide and fixed on the Belugas like he’s never seen a damn whale before. Which, come to think of it.
You can take the boy out of San Antone…
“What the hell is it? It’s fucking gigantic.” There’s nothing to disguise the awe in Jared’s voice, and Jensen bends down, pretends to study the plaque on the side of the aquarium wall.
“Let’s see…oh, yeah. Here it is.” He trails a finger along the words, mischief coloring his voice when he says, “The Padalecki Whaleshark. Lives on a steady diet of cheeseburgers, sugar, Diet Coke and…plankton. Oh yeah, total freak of nature. No doubt.”
Jared blinks, then reaches over and slugs Jensen on the shoulder. Jensen’s laughter breaks free, and then Jared joins in. The sound of their amusement draws the attention of several passers-by, and when a few of them stop and double-take, Jensen’s smile fades a bit. He takes Jared by the shirtsleeve and tugs him back and behind the exhibit on Japanese spider crabs.
“What the…” Jared narrows his eyes, huffs out a breath. “See someone you know?”
“Someone who knows us.” Jensen doesn’t even care if he sounds like the antisocial asshole actor he’s sometimes purported to be. He’s not, not really, but he just…he’s not really a big fan of, well, fans so much. He deals with them mostly because he has to, but push come to shove…he’d rather not hear about how wearing a leather jacket, tight jeans, and snarking at his onscreen little brother “drastically changed” someone’s friggin’ life.
Jared’s looking over his shoulder, and apparently catches sight of the group in question because realization dawns bright across his features. When he looks back at Jensen, those hooded eyes are full of amusement and not a little resignation. “Wuss,” is all he says, and Jensen shoves him back a full step, ignoring the soft laughter.
“Seriously, they look about thirteen years old.” Jared falls into step beside Jensen as they make their way through the darkened corridor.
“Seriously, drop it.”
Like that warning’s ever meant a damn thing to Jared. “Oh, so fans are okay to screw around with, but…you can’t stop and sign a few measley autographs, Jensen?”
At that, the accusation in Jared’s normally affectionate tone, Jensen stops cold. Turns around to find his friend staring down at him with blatant disappointment in his eyes, and it’s so fucking ridiculous. Like Jared has any right to say a damn thing about the fact that Jensen maybe sometimes on occasion hooks up with the stray guest star or cute fangirl-or-boy when the mood strikes him. After all, Jared fucked around with Jonathon, possibly got his ass dumped because of it, and it’s just completely not…even the same thing at all.
Fucking hell.
“Look, I’m not trying to patronize you or whatever.” A big hand drops onto his shoulder, squeezing just a little, and Jensen moves away. There’s a heavy sigh behind him. “Live your life, man. I just. Sometimes you seem kinda unhappy, Jen. You know that?”
“We can’t all shoot sunshine and moonbeams out of our asses, Padalecki, so why don’t you just back the fuck off?”
Jensen can all but fucking hear his words take a bite out of Jared. He’s sorry as soon as he says it, and not just because there’s a thread of truth to Jared’s words that he doesn’t want to pull, follow and see where it goes. But because what he said, well, that’s what he loves about Jared. He wouldn’t have the goofy dork any other way, and now he can feel those fucking eyes boring into his skull, can picture the hurt darkening brown and green to black.
He braces himself for the tirade Jared’s completely within rights to give him, but instead, his friend just forces another smile and shakes his head. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“Jared,” Jensen starts helplessly. But Jared’s already backing away, not meeting Jensen’s eyes, and an uncomfortable ache takes up residence in his chest.
After checking his watch, Jared makes a too-casual sound in the back of his throat that Jensen doesn’t buy for a second. “Damn, gotta flight to catch. Take care, Jen. I’ll see you in May.”
The words are right, the tone’s bright enough. But the strained smile plastered across those familiar features is so fucking wrong that Jensen’s rooted to the spot. He can’t think of a damn thing to say to make it better.
xxx
First thing Jensen discovered upon finding out he’d just as soon suck a dick as eat a pussy was that, gay bars and straight bars? Ain’t a damn difference between them.
Okay, sure, some of the choices in music differentiate, and the clientele can get a bit one-sided. But after mainlining all five seasons of Queer as Folk during a month of self-awakening, he’d expected more…well, just more. More debauchery, more naked boys dancing in cages over the bar. More Brian Kinneys in illustrous backrooms, sucking and fucking every person lucky enough to walk by.
“Want another, sugar?”
He doesn’t bother to glance at the sympathetic queen behind the counter, just lifts his glass and draws his shoulders up higher around him as some tired dance track fills the air.
It doesn’t help that his phone’s been ringing nonstop since he left the aquarium, and he knows if he checked his voicemail his ears would be ringing with insults and queries as to why he’d missed Jared’s grand departure from the airport.
After the third time Mike’s name flashes across the screen, he turns the damn thing off and slams it down on the bar as hard as he’d like to do to the jackass in question. Can’t they all just leave him fucking alone? He gets it. He does. They’re all friends, sure, but Jared’s the one you don’t screw with and expect to make it out alive.
Hell, Jensen should know, being plenty guilty of it himself. He thinks back to how he treated Sandy those last few times he saw her, and something thick and tasting of bitter shame lodges in his throat.
He wishes he could blame Jared. Thing is, Jared’s so damn oblivious he doesn’t even know about the subterfuge and sniping going on under his nose on his behalf. And Jensen can understand the need to protect, nurture, can appreciate it even, because even now Jared’s still the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.
He’s just sick of thinking about it.
Which is probably why he doesn’t bother to stop the inevitable from happening when he catches sight of blue eyes and dark hair across the room. Downs his drink, wincing a bit as the whiskey burns his throat, and starts on unsteady legs down the hall with the excuse of grabbing his coat.
It’s no time at all before he’s got his hands flat against the wall, pants around his ankles, and dick bruising the handsome stranger’s throat. And yeaaah, this is better. No thinking, no doubt and recriminations, just sucking and fucking and--
“God…you’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you?”
--he doesn’t ever have to worry that this’ll wind up being more than it is.
Take One.
His first thought on waking is, ouch, quickly followed by the always frightening, oh, what the hell did I do last night?
When his comforter goes flying across the room, Jensen barely has time to process the strangely familiar turn of events before he’s assaulted with six-feet-four-inches of perky Padalecki. There’s no mistaking that laugh, that personality, that pain in Jensen’s ass no other overly exuberant goofball can recreate.
“Mornin’!” Jared bounces once, twice, on the bed and slaps Jensen’s ass. Jensen sucks in a breath, bucks his hips and thinks, Say what? “Get up, princess. We’re spending the day together!”
Jensen stares up at Jared’s admittedly deranged grin, eyes unfocused and pulse still hammering. “What the…Jared, I fucking thought you left!”
He’s not willing to examine too closely the relief that curls through his body, leaving him dizzy, shaken. Before he can string together any more questions, Jared’s jerking the blankets the rest of the way off the bed, and Jensen finds himself flat-out and face-down against the mattress. Again.
Jared’s babbling something over his head--“Such a lazy ass”--gigantic body practically smothering Jensen into the sheets, while Jensen’s still trying to put two and two together. He manages a muffled, “Thought I, uh, still wasn’t your type, Jay.”
Jared freezes, and then he’s laughing and Jensen can breathe again. “Such a smug prick!” Looking for all the world like he wants to roll back over and ruffle Jensen’s goddamned hair or something.
What the fucking hell?
While Jensen’s left gaping, Jared stretches out, nibbling absently on his bottom lip and nudging Jensen with his toe. “Hey, since you’re already up…” He trails off with a winning grin, and Jensen rubs his eyes.
“Okay, seriously. Ha-ha, whatever, what are you doing here?”
Jared stares at him like he’s the one who’s lost his ever-loving mind, and sits up on his elbows. “Clean your ears out, boy. I said we’re goin’ out! I’m leaving tonight, and you’re gonna spend time with your best friend before partying your ass off and forgetting all about me.”
Jensen’s barely following the thread of conversation, just lets Jared pull him up and out of bed and toward the dresser. He’s still stuck on, “Say what?”
Elbows-deep now in Jensen’s goddamn underwear drawer, Jared pulls out a pair of soft-washed cotton boxers and tosses them at Jensen’s head. “Oh! And wear that green shirt.” A playful wiggle of brows. “Daddy likes.”
“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” Jensen’s fingers clench in cotton, teeth grinding so hard he can just feel his fillings turning to dust. Not pausing at Jared’s incredulous expression, he stalks toward his friend and shoves him back, away from his underwear, his clothes, his goddamn dresser that Jared should be nowhere near right now because, oh yeah, he’s supposed to be in goddamn San Antonio.
“Okaaay, yeah, you definitely need to get out, man,” Jared decides, nodding a little to himself. Then, “I’m not surprised. We live like a couple of--”
“Vampires,” Jensen finishes in tandem, watching Jared’s eyes widen a bit. “Though I’d just go with hermits, myself.”
“Well, at least you agree.” White teeth flash, nearly blinding, and Jensen’s confusion leaps right over the ledge into irritation.
“What the hell is going on here? Why are you…why is this all happening again? Did Mike put you up to this shit?”
“Whoa, what’s your problem, Jen?” Jared laughs a little, hands held up high in surrender. “Look, if you don’t wanna hang out…fine. I’ll just. I’ll just go and I’ll call you tomorrow. No need to freak out, jesus.”
“And what if there is no tomorrow?” Jensen’s bordering on hysterical, unable to stop even when Jared backs up. Stares at him like he’s never even seen Jensen before. “There wasn’t one today!”
For a split-second, he genuinely thinks Jared’s gonna run out of the room screaming. Sure looks like it, anyway, and Jensen can’t really blame him for it. Hell, if the tables were turned, Jensen would’ve already been halfway back to the Westin Grande by now. He sure as fuck wouldn’t have stopped to hear out whatever weird explanation Jared managed to pull out of his ass.
But Jared’s a much better co-star, friend, human being than Jensen. After only an initial beat of worried silence, he just steps right up and places the back of his hand to Jensen’s forehead. “You feelin’ okay, Jen?” All worried and contrite, like it might somehow be his fault that Jensen’s lost his fucking grip on reality.
He slaps Jared’s hand away, turning around and feeling toward the bathroom. “Need some water,” he croaks, trying to separate everything in his mind. The minute he splashes cold water against his cheeks, takes a look at himself in the mirror, he comes to a pretty disturbing realization.
“What happened last night?” He stalks out of the bathroom, ignoring the way Jared jumps up from the bed and stands like he’s waiting for execution or some such shit.
“Um.” Jared bites his lip, tongue touching the corner of his mouth and almost--almost--distracting Jensen from the freak-out at hand. “Well, we finished shooting. I went home, called my parents, took a bath for my back--oh, I tried out that new apricot scrub Sandy gave me before, well, you know--”
Jensen stares at him. “Honestly, how is anyone surprised you’re queer?”
“Hey!” But Jared doesn’t sound the least bit offended, just smiles and all but scuffs the floor with his toe. Jensen feels like stabbing himself between the eyes, or maybe just stabbing Jared. With his dick.
The gigantic, adorable fuckwad.
“Then we met up at that crap-ass bar on UBC Michael likes…you know, the one Kristin got food poisoning at back on Erica’s birthday? God, I swear sometimes I think Mike’s really just tryin’ to kill us all--”
“Jared!” Jensen’s voice cracks a little, and Jared blinks. “Just…focus. Please.”
Jared huffs out a breath, spreads his arms wide. “That’s all, Jen. We went out drinkin’ for awhile, then you ran out of the place like a bat outta hell and I decided to come see you this morning before I left.”
Everything’s right, down to the last attention-deficit detail. Except…
“So, we never…we never went to the aquarium?” Jensen despises the hopeful note in his question.
Jared’s laugh isn’t the least bit reassuring. “How’d you…damn it, I was gonna surprise you!”
“What about the harbor cruise?”
Mouth still hanging open, Jared shakes his head. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out a little.”
Jensen laughs darkly, sits down on the bed and drops his head in his hands. “Freaking him out, he says.”
xxx
“I really am sorry, Jensen. I wouldn’t have…why didn’t you tell me you get seasick?”
Jensen groans and rests his head against his forearm, breathing heavy, not saying anything in response.
“Well, look at it this way,” Jared murmurs a few minutes later, rubbing Jensen’s back as he vomits. “Least we can check this off the to-do list.”
Jensen looks up, throat stinging, voice cracked. “I hate you.”
“Nah, you don’t.” Jared appears to consider it thoughtfully, nibbling his bottom lip. “You know, Jen, you don’t have to pretend with me. It’s not like I’ll think less of you because you got sick, y’know? I just want you to talk to me, tell me what’s up.”
Making a face, Jensen leans over the bucket again. Spits, grabs the bottle of water in Jared’s hand. “Stupid wristbands work for shit,” he mutters, taking a long sip and swishing it around in his mouth. Spits again. “This is one fucked up dream.”
Because that’s what it has to be. Some part of his subconscious that’s not willing to let go of Jared quite yet, that still hasn’t figured out that this isn’t the end. That there’ll be plenty more times for Jensen to see his best friend, to apologize for being a complete asshole and make things better between them.
There has to be.
Coming to that realization doesn’t really make things seem any easier to handle. Shrugging off Jared’s heavy hands, he comes to shaky feet and swallows down the surge of bile threatening to bubble up again as the boat rocks. He can feel Jared watching him, a bit uncertainly, and flashes his friend a queasy smile.
“Let’s get the hell outta here.”
Jared bites his lip, something twinkling behind brown-green. “Well, I did kinda pay for the buffet…”
Jensen stares. Yeah, just as lame the second time around.
Jared finally laughs, standing up and taking hold of Jensen’s elbow. “Jesus, gonna give me nightmares for a week with that shit. C’mon, Up-Chuck. We’re leaving.”
“Fuck you.”
“My bad…Ralph,” Jared responds cheerfully.
Jensen bites his tongue, lets Jared drag him toward the front deck, ready to throw himself overboard and call it a day.
xxx
Jared pops another fry into his mouth, and Jensen fiddles with a napkin. Things are plenty awkward enough, on his end anyway, and he’s just not really sure where the hell this dream’s going.
Okay, that’s a lie. He knows pretty much exactly where it’s going, he just isn’t really sure how to stop it. It’s like watching a trainwreck, he can see and hear everything just fine, can control his own responses, but it all seems to inevitably occur the same way regardless.
Even now, Jared’s watching him. Head tilted to the side, that same happy curve of lips. Like nothing in the world could ever upset him, when Jensen goddamn well knows differently.
He can still see Jared’s crestfallen expression, head hanging as he turned to walk away and Jensen just stood there, silent like the fucking jackass he secretly sometimes suspects himself to be. Left behind with the fucking dolphins and sea otters.
“Not afraid of heights, are you?” Jared teases, and Jensen blinks. Looks up, meets Jared’s gaze.
Before he can think better of it, he’s squeezing his hand into a fist against his thigh. “How come we never did any of this shit when we had the chance?”
Jared smiles, a bit regretfully, and Jensen hears the words echoed in his head. “We were just busy, I guess. Had better stuff to do.”
It’s bubbling up in his throat, some long-hidden fear he’s never expressed because he’s supposed to be the confident one. The older one, the one that’s got all the answers. For Jared, anyway, and it’s a little disheartening to finally give in and admit he has no fucking clue.
“What if we never have the chance again?” He wants to take it back, especially when Jared’s eyes flicker to his, his friend’s own insecurity shaping his features, darkening his gaze. A cold fist tightens in his belly, but he can’t shut the fuck up now. “What if we gave it our best shot, but…this is it. The end. Pack it up boys, take care and good luck.”
“Hey.” Jared sounds a bit alarmed. Jensen can’t blame him…he feels like he’s choking, his collar’s too tight and, goddamn, why’s it so fucking hot in here? “It’s just a break, Jensen. We’re on a break, we’ll be back.”
A break. “You don’t even know what the word means,” he mumbles, but this time the words mean something altogether different.
Jared’s brow furrows. “I take breaks.” Then the fog clears, the sun comes back out, and he’s grinning and sitting back. “I just like to keep busy, is all. Not all of us can sit on our lazy asses and look as pretty as you.”
Jensen’s head lifts. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. “Pretty, huh?” His tone is a bit strangled, but he can’t help it.
Jared rolls his eyes, reaching out for a fry. “Like it’s news to you.” Crunch, swallow, and then he’s shaking his head in fond amusement. “Everyone knows you’re pretty, fucker. Your cross to bear or whatever.”
“Never knew you thought so.” He’s watching Jared carefully now, something hot and interesting driving his pulse along a faster path.
“Said you weren’t my type, Jen. Never said I was blind.”
Jensen stares back at him until Jared finally clears his throat and plucks another french-fry from his plate.
It’s never been any secret that Jensen likes to fool around with pretty much whomever’s willing. Sure, he has standards and all, but sometimes they get forsaken in favor of whatever crazy, kinky shit seems better at the time.
Sometimes he forgets Jared knows that about him, and it’s not exactly shame that washes over him, but it’s not really a far thing from it, either. And that’s just great. It’s been all of a day--but who’s counting?--since Jared finally came out and admitted he liked dick, and now Jensen’s questioning every damn thing about himself. To the point of having weird dreams and déjà vu, and really, why had this all seemed so much easier when Jared liked girls?
Jesus.
xxx
“This is it?”
Jensen looks over, catches Jared’s bemused expression and tries to hide a smirk. Failing somewhat spectacularly, he brushes past his friend to take a seat at the bar. “What were you expecting, Junior?” He signals for a drink, spins in his chair to look out over the crowd.
Jared’s still standing there, taking in his surroundings with wide eyes edged with what Jensen wants to believe is disappointment, but then that’d mean admitting that Jared was expecting the same kind of debauchery Jensen had and, well. That’s just diving into parts of Jared’s psyche that have no business in some fucked-up alternate reality of whatever the hell had happened to Jensen yesterday. Today. Whatever.
“I just…” Jared chews on his lip, backing toward Jensen without taking his eyes off the dance floor. “I dunno. This isn’t much like Queer as Folk.”
Jensen barks out a laugh that has Jared blinking. He looks over and seems somewhat surprised to even see Jensen there. Tilting his head, Jared slides into the next seat and accepts the shot the tired bartender slips him with only a minimal blush when the guy winks back.
“Welcome to the rest of your homosexual life.” Jensen salutes the room with his own glass, then tosses it back with a wince. “Gotta learn to make your own fun, Jared. It doesn’t just plop itself down in your lap now that you’ve decided you like a little cock action.”
“Looks like that guy over there wouldn’t mind plopping down in your lap.” Jared nods toward one of the dark corners across the club, and Jensen sits up. Takes note of the pretty brunet he’d gotten somewhat familiar with the other night.
“Heh, well.” He snaps for another shot, eyes rolling back as he avoids Jared’s gaze.
“You know him?” Jared sounds more then a little curious, and goddamn…this is one of many times Jensen resents the fact that they know each other so damn well.
He contemplates making something up, come out smelling like roses. Then figures, fuck it. My dream, after all. “I let him suck my dick once.”
“Let him?” Jared laughs, shaking his head. “How kind of you, man. How giving.”
Jensen’s lips curve at the memory, eyes dark and trained on the kid as he leans up against the wall like an invitation. “He thought so.”
“You like him?”
Jensen starts at that, eyes snapping to Jared’s smiling features and back to his glass in a second’s time. Laughing uncomfortably, he shifts in his chair, feeling those dark, knowing eyes stroke him down deep inside. “Hell, Jay, I don’t even remember his name.”
Jared’s quiet for almost too long, and Jensen’s already regretting whatever demon inside that’d thought it would be a better idea to skip the aquarium after all.
Then, “You deserve better.” Soft, solemn, and Jensen jerks a little. Doesn’t really want to think about it, just wants to turn it into a joke. A joke, it’s always a joke.
“Like what, a ring and a commitment ceremony?” he cracks, feeling more and more like his Winchester counterpart when Jared’s eyes droop a bit. Fall away from him and then coming back blazing.
“Maybe. If that’s what it takes. What’s wrong with it?”
“God, you really are gay.”
Jared sits back, crosses his arms against his chest, and Jensen is absoutely not thinking of the way those muscles bunch and shift and bulge at the seams of blue cotton. “You keep saying that. But so are you.”
“Nah, I’ll take it any way I can get it. Just gotta be discreet, is all.” His grin is sharp, fierce, and dares Jared or any-fucking-body else to disagree or judge.
Jared snorts softly, leans so close that Jensen goes still. Warm breath brushes his ear, sweetened by mint and butterscotch Schnapps, and then Jared’s fingers are squeezing his shoulder tight and Jensen can’t breathe. “You deserve better. And I gotta plane to catch.”
Jensen watches him back away, confusion, resentment thick and bitter on his tongue. “Yeah well, better’s got a type, and it ain’t me,” he mutters to no one at all, and turns his back on Jared’s departing figure. Orders another drink, and tries not to let the realization bug him.
Table of Contents | Part 2
Author: keepaofthecheez
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles (minor Jensen/OMC’s, Jensen/OFC’s)
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 | m/m slash, real person fiction, abuse of schmoop
Word Count: 20,209 words.
Summary: Sometimes you get a second chance to see what’s right in front of you.
Notes: See end of fic. Written for spn_j2_bigbang.
There moves a thread that has no end.
By keepaofthecheez.
- Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light / To chase a feather in the wind /
Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight / There moves a thread that has no end
[all my love // led zeppelin]
Cold Open.
“So, I’m gay. And I just wanted you to know. Officially and all.”
Last day of filming for the season, and Jared decides it’s the perfect opportunity to throw their comfortable “don’t ask, don’t tell” regime right out the fucking window. Then again, Padalecki’s never really been one for subtlety, so Jensen wonders why it’s even taken this long to find those big brown-green eyes gazing back at him, looking for all the world like Jared’s afraid. Of what, Jensen can’t figure out. Because it’s not like he doesn’t already know.
It’s been three months since Jared broke up with Sandy, since Jensen walked in on his friend and a guest star “rehearsing” one of the week’s final scenes in Jared’s trailer. Jensen couldn’t particularly recall the moment in question--“Uh, Sam doesn’t blow the motel clerk in my script, Jay”--and Jared was acting plenty weird enough after the fact that Jensen just didn’t bother joking around about it anymore.
Now, though. Apparently their time’s run out, making way for awkwardness and nervous tension. And really, it’s just plain dumb. Because, hell, Jensen gets it. And even if he didn’t, he still wouldn’t give a flying fuck if Jared liked it up the ass or down his throat. He just cares about Jared in the end.
And so he says as much, and there’s a split-second’s relief on Jared’s face before his friend’s eyes go all narrowed, pink lips pursing together. Jensen runs his words back through his head, trying to figure out where he might’ve possibly misstepped--“Well, uh, yeah, I kind of figured, man”--but Jared’s already got Jensen’s wrist between long fingers. Then he’s pulling Jensen back behind his trailer, and Jensen goes a little stiff. Remembers Jonathon’s moaning, hands wrapped in Jared’s messy curls, and Jared’s spit-slick, shiny mouth…
It comes out before he can think better of it, two shades too worried. Maybe something else less easy to put a name to. “Jared, I…I don’t like you that way.”
If he’s expecting hurt, guilt, anger, he’s sadly mistaken. Jared’s gaze widens, he lets go of Jensen’s arm as his mouth stretches, and then… And then he’s laughing, full-on cackling with his arms around his middle and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
“Dude, I’m not. Did you think…?” He can barely get it out between giggles, and Jensen’s starting to feel like a fucking sideshow at the carnival the way Jared’s staring at him. Disbelief, incredulity, edged with a hilarity that has Jensen’s hackles rising even as Jared adds, “Jensen, no. I’m not even trying to hit on you, man.”
“Then what the fuck?” His voice is cold, controlled, but Jensen can’t help it.
“I just wanted you to know, and like…if you had any questions or anything.” Jared’s laughter subsides to hiccups, and he sobers even more on catching the glare Jensen’s throwing his way. “Not everyone wants a ticket on the Ackles Express.”
Jensen has about three seconds to be offended--or should he be impressed?--and then Jared’s laughing again, the sound friendly and teasing, and Jensen can’t help but smile. Shove Jared’s shoulder. “Asshole.”
“Sooo not my type,” Jared sings, backing away and tossing off an extremely flamboyant handwave that has Jensen rolling his eyes. Jared’s teeth flash and he turns away, whistling.
“Where you going, anyway?” Jensen calls, hipshot against his car, keys in his hand. “Thought we were gonna meet up with the others, grab a drink?” Celebrate a season damned-well done, and bullshit each other about all the ways the network was gonna be bending over backwards to get them back next year.
Jared’s smile falters for a flash of a moment, and Jensen sees the end of their friendship through a blinding white tunnel. This is it, it’s all out now, we’re not gonna be able to…
“I’ll meet you there.”
Jensen just nods. The bright smile and ever-enthusiastic tone is back, and Jensen’s left wondering if he imagined the weird moment altogether.
xxx
“You boys are just growing up too damn quick for me to handle.” Mike taps his glass against Tom’s. “Second season a wrap…hell, I’m so proud. Somebody hold me.”
Jensen meets Jared’s gaze, lips turning up at the edges when Jared makes a face and scoots his chair closer toward Jensen. They’re both way too aware of Michael’s sentimentality when he’s drunk, and neither one of them want to get caught in the crossfire, wind up with a lipful of touchy-feely Rosenbaum.
Once was enough for Jensen, and he still hasn’t gotten the taste of Mike’s Listerine toothpaste out of his mouth from his farewell party on Smallville. Jared…well, Jensen’s not quite sure how exactly, but his friend definitely knows better, too.
Which leaves Tom, as per usual, not that Tom seems to give a damn. He’s patting Mike on the back, expression resigned and rumbly voice murmuring, “There, there” as Jensen and Jared lean close together and snicker. And everything feels back to normal.
“It’s just.” Michael sniffles, waving his hand and nearly upending some quality whiskey all over Tom’s shirt. “It’s just that, you know, it makes me all…Tom, what’s it make me again?”
“Nostalgic.”
“Right.” Michael turns toward his best friend, smooching Tom on the cheek. “That. You know me so well, Tommy boy.” He promptly passes out.
Tom sighs, gaze daring either of them to say anything. Jared mimes zipping his lips, and Jensen just grins. “So, what you guys got going for hiatus?” Tom asks, shifting in his seat so that Mike can lean comfortably against his shoulder, only to have his friend start snoring right into his neck. “Anything fun lined up?”
Never one to miss an opportunity for discreet debauchery--and Tom’s newly single status has made him more than a little willing to get up to some--Jensen perks up. Hopeful grin, spreading his hands out wide. “Hey, I’m open to suggestions.”
He shoots a look toward Jared, who’s smiling a bit goofily, and he already knows the words that’ll come out of his co-star’s mouth. Could recite them in his fucking sleep, even.
“I’m gonna head home for awhile, see the family.”
Tom and Jensen exchange meaningful glances.
Because it’s not that Jared going home is so out of the ordinary…in fact, that’s exactly the problem. Every time they get more than a weekend to themselves, Jared’s on the first plane back to San Antonio, and Jensen doesn’t see hide nor tail of his best friend until Jared shows up again at gate 13 of YVR. Secretly, he wonders if that’s the real reason Sandy finally up and gave Jared the kiss-off, until he remembers the whole thing with Jonathon--
“God…you’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you?”
--and yeah, maybe there was more to it than that.
Whatever’s written on his face, Jared seems to find something suspicious about it, because suddenly he’s staring straight at Jensen. Frowning a little, teeth glowing under the bar’s dim lamplight. “Or I could stick around…yeah?”
Jensen has an immediate, disturbing thought of those lips, that mouth, wide and wrapped around some big dick--ah, hell who’s he kidding?--and goes warm all over. Shakes his head. “N-No. You should definitely go.”
There’s a moment’s pause after his hesitant response, and then Tom’s looking at them both like they’re insane. Jensen refuses to meet Jared’s eyes while Tom tosses back a shot and mumbles, “Well, that wasn’t a little weird or anything.”
“Jensen,” Jared’s saying, too low for Tom to hear, and the thread of worry, of fucking friendly concern, is too much for Jensen to handle right about now. He backs away from Jared’s outstretched hand, coming to his feet with a smile that’s as fake as the one plastered across the face of that fucking nightmarish clown from the second episode of the season.
“Tired.” He forces a yawn and stretches both arms high over his head. “Gonna head home, m’self.” With a nod toward them both, he adds, “See you when I see you.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow night,” Jared calls after him, a troubled reminder, and Jensen waves it off and grabs his jacket.
xxx
Thing is, Jensen’s a lying liar who lies.
He’d screw Jared, sure, no questions asked, if he didn’t think Jared would go and fucking fall in love or something equally ridiculous in return. Because that’s just how his best friend is. Roses and hearts and moonlight, all the way, and Jensen’s more the condoms and sleazy hotel trysts and “don’t call me, I’ll call you” school of thought when it comes to sex.
If it could just be about mouths, tongues, getting off, then Jensen…well, he’d’ve had something else entirely in mind when Jared dropped his little gay-bomb the day before. Maybe he would’ve been the one to shove Jared up against the trailer wall, tug those baggy jeans down Jared’s hips and suck. Then keep right on until all that was left of that molasses Texas drawl was a filthy curse or two.
Because Jared’s hot, no two ways about it. And yeah, Jensen’s given it a thought. Or three. Or four. But now Jared’s gone and completely fucked things up by not even wanting Jensen in the first place, and Jensen…just isn’t sure how to handle that.
If Jared was straight, he could blow it off, easy. But Jared’s not straight, not even trying to pretend anymore, and by all rights he should be wanting a piece of the infamous Ackles ass right about now, begging for it, even. Was that really so much to ask?
Eh. Not that he’s going to fuck Jared anyway.
That decisive thought’s still lingering on his mind when his sheets are ripped back. Cool air sweeps across body parts already good and awake, and he lets out an undignified howl before registering the familiar grin above him. “Fucking son of a bitch!”
“Mornin’!” Jared’s all but bouncing on the bed as Jensen rolls to the other end, tries to burrow under a full-length body pillow. It doesn't help. He can still hear Jared’s brand of particularly evil laughter--followed by a friendly slap to the ass--and wonders what he ever thought was cute about his fucking co-star. “Get up, princess. We’re spending the day together!”
“I thought you were gone already.” Happy, happy, happy…incessantly happy. Too damn excited, too damn much. Jared in a nutshell, and Jensen’s jaw twitches. “Gimme my blankets back, bitch.”
A short-winded tug-of-war ensues, but Jared’s got pounds on his side, not to mention full cognizance of the situation. Jensen’s vision is still half-blurred from sleep, and his morning wood’s a definite handicap. He gives in around the time Jared’s leaning over him, bony knee pressed to the small of Jensen’s back. Unable to bite back a helpless groan, Jensen closes his eyes as his dick grinds against the mattress.
Jared goes still, breathing hard against Jensen’s neck. Heartbeat like a drumline marching across his brain, Jensen swallows back sixteen different cracks and settles for a lazy, “Now Jared, y’said I wasn’t your type.”
And just that easily, Jared’s chuckling again. He loosens his hold, rolling over to let Jensen sit up and meet his wide, toothy grin. “Such a smug prick.” Fond amusement colors Jared’s features and Jensen doesn’t argue the point. Mostly because he knows it’s true.
“Well, now that you’re up…” Jared snorts as he realizes the double entendre. He lies back against Jensen’s bed, all sprawling long limbs and floppy hair, watching while Jensen stumbles toward the dresser and starts rummaging around for a clean shirt. “Wear the green one.”
Jensen pauses, stares, and Jared shrugs his shoulders, already distracted by something else. Jensen turns back to the shirt, voice a low rumble. “Huh. The new and improved Gay Jared dispenses fashion advice. What other wonders await?”
“Jackass! I’ve always had fashion sense.”
“Yeah, nonsense.” But Jensen pulls the shirt over his head anyway, hiding the grin threatening to break free. This? He can handle. Still…he turns around, leans against the dresser with his best wide-eyed and pouty-lipped look of destruction. “Can’t we just hang out over here? Key words being hang over.” He pulls a face, rubs at temples still pounding from the effects of too much alcohol and not enough sleep.
Jared’s dimples dig down deep in his cheeks, eyes lighting up with unholy glee. “Sorry. The new and improved Gay Jared wants to go out, see the sights. You know, the ones we’ve never bothered with because we live like vampires?”
“Hey, I like it that vay,” Jensen drawls in exaggerated Bela Lugosi, eyebrows and fingers wiggling. Jared just rolls his eyes, and Jensen gives in without another thought. “All right, all right. Just…we’re not jumping out of any planes on an empty stomach. I’m putting my foot down.”
And if his dick responds when Jared smiles, well, Jensen won’t have to worry about it after tomorrow, anyway.
xxx
Come to think of it, Jensen actually hates Jared. A lot.
Hates his stupid floppy hair that won’t stay down, no matter how much fucking gel Jeannie tries to use. Hates his dumb jokes, pranks, hates his stupid pink shirts and big feet.
“Jesus, Jensen. You look like shit.”
Hates Jared’s tendency to state the fucking obvious.
“M’fine,” Jensen croaks out, vision blurry and more than a little green around the edges. The stupid wristband he bought from a vendor before they got on the ferry’s obviously a piece of crap, but it’s probably what Jensen deserves for putting any stock in that acupressure bullshit and not just taking a damned Dramamine to begin with.
The boat tips to the side, probably just a normal dip-and-roll, but Jensen’s fingers clench on the railing and he swallows down bile and shame. A second later, Jared’s there, rubbing his back, speaking in low, soothing tones.
“God, Jen, I didn’t know…you never said anything.”
It’s impossible to miss the worry coloring Jared’s voice. Ah, hell…fine, his jokes aren’t that dumb. Jensen leans back into those big hands, even if there are people around that might recognize them. Although, according to Jared, it’s not likely this early in the morning. Apparently their fanbase doesn’t run to the grandmothers and small children populating the nine AM harbor cruise crowd.
“I’m so sorry,” Jared’s saying when he finally tunes back in, and somehow the rumbly voice does more to steady Jensen’s nerves than the stupid wristband or pills or anything else. “Jen, if you can try…just look out at something. The horizon, I hear that’s supposed to help, right?”
“You askin’ me or tellin’ me?” The joke falls flat, Jensen’s humor only a ghostly shade of normal. The boat rocks again, his stomach rolls with it, and that’s just all she fucking wrote.
He vaguely hears a little girl saying, “Ew! Mommy, he’s throwing up!” before a cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he’s kneeling on the fiberglass bottom, hands wrapped around his middle and vomit stinging his nostrils.
Jared calls in brisk tones for help, and then there’s the pounding of heels like a fucking death march across Jensen’s skull. Before he can slump down, pass out like he very much wants to do, he’s being pulled to his feet and manuevered god only knows where.
“Here ya go, Jen.” It’s Jared again, giving Sam’s worried puppy routine more than its due justice. A glass of something cold is pressed up against his mouth, and he takes a tentative sip, feels blessed water slide down his throat. “There now, that’s right, drink it all up for me.”
Jensen pulls a face, but he takes another swallow. “Christ. Why don’t you just call me sweetheart an’ get it over with, Jaredina?”
“He always this crabby?” an amused voice asks, and Jared snorts.
“You oughta see him when you tell him you ate the last gummy bear.”
That’s it. Fuck you and your stupid fucking knock-knock jokes, Padalecki.
“I hate you.” Which, really, would probably sound way more effective if he weren’t ninety-nine percent sure it was Jared’s thigh he was currently using as a pillow.
There’s footsteps again, fading this time, and then Jared sighs. “I really am sorry, Jensen. I wouldn’t have…why didn’t you tell me you get seasick?”
Jensen sits up, fights back another dizzying wave of nausea. “S’no big deal.” Faking a smile that doesn’t fool Jared for a minute, he looks down and picks at the worthless band around his wrist. “Besides, this stupid thing was supposed to work.”
Long fingers push his out of the way, and then Jared’s bent over his arm, practically sitting in his lap. “You wearing it tight enough?” Jensen stares down, dumbly, at the head of dark hair. Fingers itching to touch.
“Uh.” What the hell were they even talking about anymore? “Yeah?”
Jared looks up, warm hazel gaze freezing Jensen in place. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me?”
Really, really pink. That’s all Jensen can concentrate on, and he wonders why he never really noticed that about Jared’s mouth before. Course, he’s thought plenty about Jared’s mouth…but always in this abstract, would-be-nice-if-I-could kind of way, and never with any real motivation behind it.
Suddenly, there’s worse things to consider than throwing up in front of a boatful of strangers.
Seeing the shore off in the near distance, he wipes the back of his mouth and winces at the acidic taste lingering on his tongue. “Can we just get the hell outta here?”
Jared hedges. “Well, I did kinda pay for the lunch buffet…”
Jensen’s eyes narrow. Jared laughs uneasily, stands up and offers Jensen a hand.
“Jesus, gonna give me nightmares for a week with that shit. C’mon, Up-Chuck. We’re leaving.”
Jensen groans a bit at the joke. “So lame, dude.”
“Sorry. Ralph, it is.”
Jensen shoves him into a wall when he passes by, and immediately feels much better.
xxx
They wind up settling for the Cappuchino Lounge at the Vancouver Lookout, given the fact that Jensen’s still too queasy to eat much and Jared’s too nice to stuff his own face in front of his sick friend.
“Not afraid of heights, are you?” Jared teases, and Jensen flips him the middle finger while staring out across the deck at the Vancouver skyline.
“How come we never did any of this shit when we first got here?” Jensen’s not even thinking about the fact that he’s all but validating Jared’s delusions that they should “get out more!” Or “experience everything the city has to offer!”--like some kind of deranged tourist pamphlet.
Jared just smiles a little, shrugs his shoulders. “We were busy, I guess.”
Just like that, it all comes crashing down. “Yeah.” Jensen musters up a grin of his own, reaches for his mug. “Guess that’s over for awhile, huh.”
They’ll be back. He knows it, Jared knows it, Eric and Kim know it…hell, the feisty new PA from Prince Edward Island fucking knows it. A few weeks from now Sam and Dean’ll be knee-deep in some new adventure and Jensen’ll be wondering--again--when he can find the nearest place to drop down dead.
“It won’t be so bad.” Jared shrugs, and Jensen knows his friend’s thinking the same unspoken thing: they’re gonna miss that damn shit. “God knows my mama’ll put me to work, soon as I get home.”
“Yeah, about that.” Jensen leans back in his chair. “What the hell, man? I dig your work ethic and all, but take a fucking break when it’s handed to you on a silver platter, you know?”
Jared’s brows furrow. “I take breaks.”
“You don’t even know what the word means.”
“Not all of us can lay around on our asses and look this pretty.” Jared kisses his own bicep, batting his lashes. Jensen flicks a peanut at him, and Jared laughs. “Seriously Jen, what’re you even gonna do?”
Folding his arms across his belly, legs spread wide, Jensen lets out a contented sigh. “Absolutely nothing, Big Jay. As much as possible.”
“Uh-huh. Well, just…don’t be a fool, wrap your tool.”
Jensen blinks. “Come again?”
“Please, I’m tryin’ to eat.” Jared pops a french fry in his mouth and looks back at Jensen innocently.
xxx
“Well?” Jared’s beaming from ear to ear, and Jensen can only shake his head and try not to laugh.
“I throw my guts up on the ferry, and so you decide to bring us to an aquarium.”
Jared’s smile gets bigger, as if the demented logic actually makes sense, which to Jared…it probably does. “Exactly! If you can’t go to the ocean, I’ll bring the ocean to you. Safely, from behind thick plated-glass, because that’s just the kind of friend I am. No need to thank me.”
“No need to worry.” But Jensen’s more amused than he wants to admit, especially when Jared comes to a grinding halt in front of the main tank attraction, eyes wide and fixed on the Belugas like he’s never seen a damn whale before. Which, come to think of it.
You can take the boy out of San Antone…
“What the hell is it? It’s fucking gigantic.” There’s nothing to disguise the awe in Jared’s voice, and Jensen bends down, pretends to study the plaque on the side of the aquarium wall.
“Let’s see…oh, yeah. Here it is.” He trails a finger along the words, mischief coloring his voice when he says, “The Padalecki Whaleshark. Lives on a steady diet of cheeseburgers, sugar, Diet Coke and…plankton. Oh yeah, total freak of nature. No doubt.”
Jared blinks, then reaches over and slugs Jensen on the shoulder. Jensen’s laughter breaks free, and then Jared joins in. The sound of their amusement draws the attention of several passers-by, and when a few of them stop and double-take, Jensen’s smile fades a bit. He takes Jared by the shirtsleeve and tugs him back and behind the exhibit on Japanese spider crabs.
“What the…” Jared narrows his eyes, huffs out a breath. “See someone you know?”
“Someone who knows us.” Jensen doesn’t even care if he sounds like the antisocial asshole actor he’s sometimes purported to be. He’s not, not really, but he just…he’s not really a big fan of, well, fans so much. He deals with them mostly because he has to, but push come to shove…he’d rather not hear about how wearing a leather jacket, tight jeans, and snarking at his onscreen little brother “drastically changed” someone’s friggin’ life.
Jared’s looking over his shoulder, and apparently catches sight of the group in question because realization dawns bright across his features. When he looks back at Jensen, those hooded eyes are full of amusement and not a little resignation. “Wuss,” is all he says, and Jensen shoves him back a full step, ignoring the soft laughter.
“Seriously, they look about thirteen years old.” Jared falls into step beside Jensen as they make their way through the darkened corridor.
“Seriously, drop it.”
Like that warning’s ever meant a damn thing to Jared. “Oh, so fans are okay to screw around with, but…you can’t stop and sign a few measley autographs, Jensen?”
At that, the accusation in Jared’s normally affectionate tone, Jensen stops cold. Turns around to find his friend staring down at him with blatant disappointment in his eyes, and it’s so fucking ridiculous. Like Jared has any right to say a damn thing about the fact that Jensen maybe sometimes on occasion hooks up with the stray guest star or cute fangirl-or-boy when the mood strikes him. After all, Jared fucked around with Jonathon, possibly got his ass dumped because of it, and it’s just completely not…even the same thing at all.
Fucking hell.
“Look, I’m not trying to patronize you or whatever.” A big hand drops onto his shoulder, squeezing just a little, and Jensen moves away. There’s a heavy sigh behind him. “Live your life, man. I just. Sometimes you seem kinda unhappy, Jen. You know that?”
“We can’t all shoot sunshine and moonbeams out of our asses, Padalecki, so why don’t you just back the fuck off?”
Jensen can all but fucking hear his words take a bite out of Jared. He’s sorry as soon as he says it, and not just because there’s a thread of truth to Jared’s words that he doesn’t want to pull, follow and see where it goes. But because what he said, well, that’s what he loves about Jared. He wouldn’t have the goofy dork any other way, and now he can feel those fucking eyes boring into his skull, can picture the hurt darkening brown and green to black.
He braces himself for the tirade Jared’s completely within rights to give him, but instead, his friend just forces another smile and shakes his head. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“Jared,” Jensen starts helplessly. But Jared’s already backing away, not meeting Jensen’s eyes, and an uncomfortable ache takes up residence in his chest.
After checking his watch, Jared makes a too-casual sound in the back of his throat that Jensen doesn’t buy for a second. “Damn, gotta flight to catch. Take care, Jen. I’ll see you in May.”
The words are right, the tone’s bright enough. But the strained smile plastered across those familiar features is so fucking wrong that Jensen’s rooted to the spot. He can’t think of a damn thing to say to make it better.
xxx
First thing Jensen discovered upon finding out he’d just as soon suck a dick as eat a pussy was that, gay bars and straight bars? Ain’t a damn difference between them.
Okay, sure, some of the choices in music differentiate, and the clientele can get a bit one-sided. But after mainlining all five seasons of Queer as Folk during a month of self-awakening, he’d expected more…well, just more. More debauchery, more naked boys dancing in cages over the bar. More Brian Kinneys in illustrous backrooms, sucking and fucking every person lucky enough to walk by.
“Want another, sugar?”
He doesn’t bother to glance at the sympathetic queen behind the counter, just lifts his glass and draws his shoulders up higher around him as some tired dance track fills the air.
It doesn’t help that his phone’s been ringing nonstop since he left the aquarium, and he knows if he checked his voicemail his ears would be ringing with insults and queries as to why he’d missed Jared’s grand departure from the airport.
After the third time Mike’s name flashes across the screen, he turns the damn thing off and slams it down on the bar as hard as he’d like to do to the jackass in question. Can’t they all just leave him fucking alone? He gets it. He does. They’re all friends, sure, but Jared’s the one you don’t screw with and expect to make it out alive.
Hell, Jensen should know, being plenty guilty of it himself. He thinks back to how he treated Sandy those last few times he saw her, and something thick and tasting of bitter shame lodges in his throat.
He wishes he could blame Jared. Thing is, Jared’s so damn oblivious he doesn’t even know about the subterfuge and sniping going on under his nose on his behalf. And Jensen can understand the need to protect, nurture, can appreciate it even, because even now Jared’s still the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.
He’s just sick of thinking about it.
Which is probably why he doesn’t bother to stop the inevitable from happening when he catches sight of blue eyes and dark hair across the room. Downs his drink, wincing a bit as the whiskey burns his throat, and starts on unsteady legs down the hall with the excuse of grabbing his coat.
It’s no time at all before he’s got his hands flat against the wall, pants around his ankles, and dick bruising the handsome stranger’s throat. And yeaaah, this is better. No thinking, no doubt and recriminations, just sucking and fucking and--
“God…you’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you?”
--he doesn’t ever have to worry that this’ll wind up being more than it is.
Take One.
His first thought on waking is, ouch, quickly followed by the always frightening, oh, what the hell did I do last night?
When his comforter goes flying across the room, Jensen barely has time to process the strangely familiar turn of events before he’s assaulted with six-feet-four-inches of perky Padalecki. There’s no mistaking that laugh, that personality, that pain in Jensen’s ass no other overly exuberant goofball can recreate.
“Mornin’!” Jared bounces once, twice, on the bed and slaps Jensen’s ass. Jensen sucks in a breath, bucks his hips and thinks, Say what? “Get up, princess. We’re spending the day together!”
Jensen stares up at Jared’s admittedly deranged grin, eyes unfocused and pulse still hammering. “What the…Jared, I fucking thought you left!”
He’s not willing to examine too closely the relief that curls through his body, leaving him dizzy, shaken. Before he can string together any more questions, Jared’s jerking the blankets the rest of the way off the bed, and Jensen finds himself flat-out and face-down against the mattress. Again.
Jared’s babbling something over his head--“Such a lazy ass”--gigantic body practically smothering Jensen into the sheets, while Jensen’s still trying to put two and two together. He manages a muffled, “Thought I, uh, still wasn’t your type, Jay.”
Jared freezes, and then he’s laughing and Jensen can breathe again. “Such a smug prick!” Looking for all the world like he wants to roll back over and ruffle Jensen’s goddamned hair or something.
What the fucking hell?
While Jensen’s left gaping, Jared stretches out, nibbling absently on his bottom lip and nudging Jensen with his toe. “Hey, since you’re already up…” He trails off with a winning grin, and Jensen rubs his eyes.
“Okay, seriously. Ha-ha, whatever, what are you doing here?”
Jared stares at him like he’s the one who’s lost his ever-loving mind, and sits up on his elbows. “Clean your ears out, boy. I said we’re goin’ out! I’m leaving tonight, and you’re gonna spend time with your best friend before partying your ass off and forgetting all about me.”
Jensen’s barely following the thread of conversation, just lets Jared pull him up and out of bed and toward the dresser. He’s still stuck on, “Say what?”
Elbows-deep now in Jensen’s goddamn underwear drawer, Jared pulls out a pair of soft-washed cotton boxers and tosses them at Jensen’s head. “Oh! And wear that green shirt.” A playful wiggle of brows. “Daddy likes.”
“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” Jensen’s fingers clench in cotton, teeth grinding so hard he can just feel his fillings turning to dust. Not pausing at Jared’s incredulous expression, he stalks toward his friend and shoves him back, away from his underwear, his clothes, his goddamn dresser that Jared should be nowhere near right now because, oh yeah, he’s supposed to be in goddamn San Antonio.
“Okaaay, yeah, you definitely need to get out, man,” Jared decides, nodding a little to himself. Then, “I’m not surprised. We live like a couple of--”
“Vampires,” Jensen finishes in tandem, watching Jared’s eyes widen a bit. “Though I’d just go with hermits, myself.”
“Well, at least you agree.” White teeth flash, nearly blinding, and Jensen’s confusion leaps right over the ledge into irritation.
“What the hell is going on here? Why are you…why is this all happening again? Did Mike put you up to this shit?”
“Whoa, what’s your problem, Jen?” Jared laughs a little, hands held up high in surrender. “Look, if you don’t wanna hang out…fine. I’ll just. I’ll just go and I’ll call you tomorrow. No need to freak out, jesus.”
“And what if there is no tomorrow?” Jensen’s bordering on hysterical, unable to stop even when Jared backs up. Stares at him like he’s never even seen Jensen before. “There wasn’t one today!”
For a split-second, he genuinely thinks Jared’s gonna run out of the room screaming. Sure looks like it, anyway, and Jensen can’t really blame him for it. Hell, if the tables were turned, Jensen would’ve already been halfway back to the Westin Grande by now. He sure as fuck wouldn’t have stopped to hear out whatever weird explanation Jared managed to pull out of his ass.
But Jared’s a much better co-star, friend, human being than Jensen. After only an initial beat of worried silence, he just steps right up and places the back of his hand to Jensen’s forehead. “You feelin’ okay, Jen?” All worried and contrite, like it might somehow be his fault that Jensen’s lost his fucking grip on reality.
He slaps Jared’s hand away, turning around and feeling toward the bathroom. “Need some water,” he croaks, trying to separate everything in his mind. The minute he splashes cold water against his cheeks, takes a look at himself in the mirror, he comes to a pretty disturbing realization.
“What happened last night?” He stalks out of the bathroom, ignoring the way Jared jumps up from the bed and stands like he’s waiting for execution or some such shit.
“Um.” Jared bites his lip, tongue touching the corner of his mouth and almost--almost--distracting Jensen from the freak-out at hand. “Well, we finished shooting. I went home, called my parents, took a bath for my back--oh, I tried out that new apricot scrub Sandy gave me before, well, you know--”
Jensen stares at him. “Honestly, how is anyone surprised you’re queer?”
“Hey!” But Jared doesn’t sound the least bit offended, just smiles and all but scuffs the floor with his toe. Jensen feels like stabbing himself between the eyes, or maybe just stabbing Jared. With his dick.
The gigantic, adorable fuckwad.
“Then we met up at that crap-ass bar on UBC Michael likes…you know, the one Kristin got food poisoning at back on Erica’s birthday? God, I swear sometimes I think Mike’s really just tryin’ to kill us all--”
“Jared!” Jensen’s voice cracks a little, and Jared blinks. “Just…focus. Please.”
Jared huffs out a breath, spreads his arms wide. “That’s all, Jen. We went out drinkin’ for awhile, then you ran out of the place like a bat outta hell and I decided to come see you this morning before I left.”
Everything’s right, down to the last attention-deficit detail. Except…
“So, we never…we never went to the aquarium?” Jensen despises the hopeful note in his question.
Jared’s laugh isn’t the least bit reassuring. “How’d you…damn it, I was gonna surprise you!”
“What about the harbor cruise?”
Mouth still hanging open, Jared shakes his head. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out a little.”
Jensen laughs darkly, sits down on the bed and drops his head in his hands. “Freaking him out, he says.”
xxx
“I really am sorry, Jensen. I wouldn’t have…why didn’t you tell me you get seasick?”
Jensen groans and rests his head against his forearm, breathing heavy, not saying anything in response.
“Well, look at it this way,” Jared murmurs a few minutes later, rubbing Jensen’s back as he vomits. “Least we can check this off the to-do list.”
Jensen looks up, throat stinging, voice cracked. “I hate you.”
“Nah, you don’t.” Jared appears to consider it thoughtfully, nibbling his bottom lip. “You know, Jen, you don’t have to pretend with me. It’s not like I’ll think less of you because you got sick, y’know? I just want you to talk to me, tell me what’s up.”
Making a face, Jensen leans over the bucket again. Spits, grabs the bottle of water in Jared’s hand. “Stupid wristbands work for shit,” he mutters, taking a long sip and swishing it around in his mouth. Spits again. “This is one fucked up dream.”
Because that’s what it has to be. Some part of his subconscious that’s not willing to let go of Jared quite yet, that still hasn’t figured out that this isn’t the end. That there’ll be plenty more times for Jensen to see his best friend, to apologize for being a complete asshole and make things better between them.
There has to be.
Coming to that realization doesn’t really make things seem any easier to handle. Shrugging off Jared’s heavy hands, he comes to shaky feet and swallows down the surge of bile threatening to bubble up again as the boat rocks. He can feel Jared watching him, a bit uncertainly, and flashes his friend a queasy smile.
“Let’s get the hell outta here.”
Jared bites his lip, something twinkling behind brown-green. “Well, I did kinda pay for the buffet…”
Jensen stares. Yeah, just as lame the second time around.
Jared finally laughs, standing up and taking hold of Jensen’s elbow. “Jesus, gonna give me nightmares for a week with that shit. C’mon, Up-Chuck. We’re leaving.”
“Fuck you.”
“My bad…Ralph,” Jared responds cheerfully.
Jensen bites his tongue, lets Jared drag him toward the front deck, ready to throw himself overboard and call it a day.
xxx
Jared pops another fry into his mouth, and Jensen fiddles with a napkin. Things are plenty awkward enough, on his end anyway, and he’s just not really sure where the hell this dream’s going.
Okay, that’s a lie. He knows pretty much exactly where it’s going, he just isn’t really sure how to stop it. It’s like watching a trainwreck, he can see and hear everything just fine, can control his own responses, but it all seems to inevitably occur the same way regardless.
Even now, Jared’s watching him. Head tilted to the side, that same happy curve of lips. Like nothing in the world could ever upset him, when Jensen goddamn well knows differently.
He can still see Jared’s crestfallen expression, head hanging as he turned to walk away and Jensen just stood there, silent like the fucking jackass he secretly sometimes suspects himself to be. Left behind with the fucking dolphins and sea otters.
“Not afraid of heights, are you?” Jared teases, and Jensen blinks. Looks up, meets Jared’s gaze.
Before he can think better of it, he’s squeezing his hand into a fist against his thigh. “How come we never did any of this shit when we had the chance?”
Jared smiles, a bit regretfully, and Jensen hears the words echoed in his head. “We were just busy, I guess. Had better stuff to do.”
It’s bubbling up in his throat, some long-hidden fear he’s never expressed because he’s supposed to be the confident one. The older one, the one that’s got all the answers. For Jared, anyway, and it’s a little disheartening to finally give in and admit he has no fucking clue.
“What if we never have the chance again?” He wants to take it back, especially when Jared’s eyes flicker to his, his friend’s own insecurity shaping his features, darkening his gaze. A cold fist tightens in his belly, but he can’t shut the fuck up now. “What if we gave it our best shot, but…this is it. The end. Pack it up boys, take care and good luck.”
“Hey.” Jared sounds a bit alarmed. Jensen can’t blame him…he feels like he’s choking, his collar’s too tight and, goddamn, why’s it so fucking hot in here? “It’s just a break, Jensen. We’re on a break, we’ll be back.”
A break. “You don’t even know what the word means,” he mumbles, but this time the words mean something altogether different.
Jared’s brow furrows. “I take breaks.” Then the fog clears, the sun comes back out, and he’s grinning and sitting back. “I just like to keep busy, is all. Not all of us can sit on our lazy asses and look as pretty as you.”
Jensen’s head lifts. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. “Pretty, huh?” His tone is a bit strangled, but he can’t help it.
Jared rolls his eyes, reaching out for a fry. “Like it’s news to you.” Crunch, swallow, and then he’s shaking his head in fond amusement. “Everyone knows you’re pretty, fucker. Your cross to bear or whatever.”
“Never knew you thought so.” He’s watching Jared carefully now, something hot and interesting driving his pulse along a faster path.
“Said you weren’t my type, Jen. Never said I was blind.”
Jensen stares back at him until Jared finally clears his throat and plucks another french-fry from his plate.
It’s never been any secret that Jensen likes to fool around with pretty much whomever’s willing. Sure, he has standards and all, but sometimes they get forsaken in favor of whatever crazy, kinky shit seems better at the time.
Sometimes he forgets Jared knows that about him, and it’s not exactly shame that washes over him, but it’s not really a far thing from it, either. And that’s just great. It’s been all of a day--but who’s counting?--since Jared finally came out and admitted he liked dick, and now Jensen’s questioning every damn thing about himself. To the point of having weird dreams and déjà vu, and really, why had this all seemed so much easier when Jared liked girls?
Jesus.
xxx
“This is it?”
Jensen looks over, catches Jared’s bemused expression and tries to hide a smirk. Failing somewhat spectacularly, he brushes past his friend to take a seat at the bar. “What were you expecting, Junior?” He signals for a drink, spins in his chair to look out over the crowd.
Jared’s still standing there, taking in his surroundings with wide eyes edged with what Jensen wants to believe is disappointment, but then that’d mean admitting that Jared was expecting the same kind of debauchery Jensen had and, well. That’s just diving into parts of Jared’s psyche that have no business in some fucked-up alternate reality of whatever the hell had happened to Jensen yesterday. Today. Whatever.
“I just…” Jared chews on his lip, backing toward Jensen without taking his eyes off the dance floor. “I dunno. This isn’t much like Queer as Folk.”
Jensen barks out a laugh that has Jared blinking. He looks over and seems somewhat surprised to even see Jensen there. Tilting his head, Jared slides into the next seat and accepts the shot the tired bartender slips him with only a minimal blush when the guy winks back.
“Welcome to the rest of your homosexual life.” Jensen salutes the room with his own glass, then tosses it back with a wince. “Gotta learn to make your own fun, Jared. It doesn’t just plop itself down in your lap now that you’ve decided you like a little cock action.”
“Looks like that guy over there wouldn’t mind plopping down in your lap.” Jared nods toward one of the dark corners across the club, and Jensen sits up. Takes note of the pretty brunet he’d gotten somewhat familiar with the other night.
“Heh, well.” He snaps for another shot, eyes rolling back as he avoids Jared’s gaze.
“You know him?” Jared sounds more then a little curious, and goddamn…this is one of many times Jensen resents the fact that they know each other so damn well.
He contemplates making something up, come out smelling like roses. Then figures, fuck it. My dream, after all. “I let him suck my dick once.”
“Let him?” Jared laughs, shaking his head. “How kind of you, man. How giving.”
Jensen’s lips curve at the memory, eyes dark and trained on the kid as he leans up against the wall like an invitation. “He thought so.”
“You like him?”
Jensen starts at that, eyes snapping to Jared’s smiling features and back to his glass in a second’s time. Laughing uncomfortably, he shifts in his chair, feeling those dark, knowing eyes stroke him down deep inside. “Hell, Jay, I don’t even remember his name.”
Jared’s quiet for almost too long, and Jensen’s already regretting whatever demon inside that’d thought it would be a better idea to skip the aquarium after all.
Then, “You deserve better.” Soft, solemn, and Jensen jerks a little. Doesn’t really want to think about it, just wants to turn it into a joke. A joke, it’s always a joke.
“Like what, a ring and a commitment ceremony?” he cracks, feeling more and more like his Winchester counterpart when Jared’s eyes droop a bit. Fall away from him and then coming back blazing.
“Maybe. If that’s what it takes. What’s wrong with it?”
“God, you really are gay.”
Jared sits back, crosses his arms against his chest, and Jensen is absoutely not thinking of the way those muscles bunch and shift and bulge at the seams of blue cotton. “You keep saying that. But so are you.”
“Nah, I’ll take it any way I can get it. Just gotta be discreet, is all.” His grin is sharp, fierce, and dares Jared or any-fucking-body else to disagree or judge.
Jared snorts softly, leans so close that Jensen goes still. Warm breath brushes his ear, sweetened by mint and butterscotch Schnapps, and then Jared’s fingers are squeezing his shoulder tight and Jensen can’t breathe. “You deserve better. And I gotta plane to catch.”
Jensen watches him back away, confusion, resentment thick and bitter on his tongue. “Yeah well, better’s got a type, and it ain’t me,” he mutters to no one at all, and turns his back on Jared’s departing figure. Orders another drink, and tries not to let the realization bug him.
Table of Contents | Part 2