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: Part 2
By keepaofthecheez.
Take Two.
Well, so it wasn’t a dream.
Jensen figures that out about two seconds after waking up, heart pounding when Jared tackles him to the bed--“Get up, princess. We’re spending the day together!”
Rather understandably in his own humble opinion, he freaks the fuck out. Orders his confused friend out and spends the rest of the morning huddled under his blankets, ignoring the continuously ringing phone and thumping knocks, usually accompanied by either Mike, or Tom, or both screaming at him from behind the door about what an insensitive freak he is.
“This isn’t happening.” Jensen can say it as many times as he wants, but every time he pops his head out, or goes to take a piss, he catches sight of the goofy Star Wars calendar Jared tacked up next to the window. Days crossed off, bright red circle around the Friday Jared’s going home.
Today.
Again.
He’s crossed off that little square stormtrooper three times now, and it hasn’t changed a damn thing. He’s never really been one to experience déjà vu anyway, but he’s also pretty damn sure this is more than just that.
The likely explanation was one Jensen wasn’t really sure he was ready to admit to himself. When the phone rings again, Jared’s name flashing in tandem with the spooky theme from Supernatural, he breathes deep. Thinks back on the conversation that took place back when Jared up and decided they should show their support of the show through their ringtones.
“It’s this or a tattoo of Sam’s face on your ass, man. You decide.”
“Jared,” he says now, voice shaky and not a little afraid. He feels Jared’s concern across the line, though his friend’s not speaking. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there.”
And Jared always will be, and maybe that’s even scarier than all the rest of it put together.
xxx
“Well, you’re in perfect physical health.”
Jensen pinches the bridge of his nose, tries not to think about Jared standing outside in the waiting room, probably pacing back and forth like a worried parent. Yeah, maybe he should’ve told Jared what was up…but to be fair to himself, he still doesn’t have a fucking clue.
Speaking of: “So then, what the hell’s wrong with me?”
The doctor raises a brow at his sarcastic tone, but keeps right on smiling politely. “Stress, and lots of it. It can make us lose our cool, keep us on edge, even delude us into imagining the far-fetched as a method of coping.”
Jensen makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I’m not imagining…” He rubs his forehead and sends the bemused doctor a pained smile. “Okay, so. Is there any medication for this? Dope me up, man, because seriously. This shit’s beyond fucked up.”
“I suggest resting,” the doctor returns wryly, and Jensen imagines strangling the guy where he stands. Wonders if sharing that with the good doctor might get him to stop looking at Jensen like he’s fucking crazy but he’s not gonna do a damn thing about it. “Or possibly, therapy,” the doctor adds, and Jensen blinks.
“So, I am crazy.”
“Not crazy, Mr. Ackles. It’s actually quite common to have disconcerting dreams, nightmares, during a period of emotional upheavel. Not unlike what you’re going through worrying over the possibility of your television series’ cancellation. Uprooting again, starting all over.”
“Didn’t realize I’d already signed up for therapy,” Jensen snarks under his breath, then clears his throat at the knock on the door.
Jared pops his head in, worried expression in place. “Jen? Everything okay?”
“Peachy. Tell him, doc.” Jensen slides off of the table, rubbing his hands together, eyes catching on the lit-up X-rays decorating the wall of the exam room. His freaking brain, right there on display, and--apparently--not a damn thing wrong with it.
Son of a bitch.
“I’ve recommended your friend get some rest, relaxation.” The doctor shakes Jared’s proffered hand, smiling widely. “My wife’s a big fan, Mr. Padalecki.”
Jensen blinks in confusion--sure didn’t seem to recognize me--until he hears the words “Gilmore Girls” and Jared’s enthusiastic laughter following afterward.
Freaking figures.
He’s buckling himself into the passenger seat of Jared’s silver Lexus twenty minutes later, paperwork from the doctor’s office--including the name of a “trusted” psychologist--crumpled in his lap.
“Well, I guess we’re gonna miss the aquarium,” Jensen mutters to himself, knowing Jared can’t hear him over the strains of Our Lady Peace. “And the ferry ride. Not that that’s gonna keep me up at night.”
They pull up in front of Jensen’s hotel, and Jared turns the ignition, the engine’s smooth purr giving way to silence. Then, “I’m gonna cancel my flight.”
Jensen starts, blinking from behind his sunglasses as he sits up and stares at Jared, who’s looking straight out the windshield. His expression is much too serious for Jensen's playful friend. “Huh?”
It takes a second, then Jared sighs a little. Shifts behind the wheel and sends Jensen a soft smile. Shakes his head. “I can’t just…I can’t leave you like this, Jen.”
Something warm rushes through Jensen’s veins, settling deep in his belly and spreading out to his toes. “Like what?” He can’t manage to hold Jared’s intense stare, begins picking at the fraying denim above the heel of his shoe.
“Freaked out.” Another small sigh, more frustrated this time, and then Jared’s squeezing his shoulder with strong fingers. “C’mon, man. I know you. You can sit there and act big and bad, but you’re scared shitless about something, and I’m not gonna run off and leave you here to deal with it by yourself!”
Emotion clogs Jensen’s voice, makes it gruff and heavy. “All right, Sam.”
Jared snorts, but it’s kinda true. There’s a lot about their characters that’s different from them, but plenty that’s the same, too. For Jared, he shares Sam’s compassion, understanding, insight. Sometimes it makes Jensen downright uncomfortable the way his friend seems to know him better than he does himself. Like they almost are brothers, and this is definitely one of those times.
Thing is, he can relate all too well to Dean’s selfish desire to keep Sam close, and that’s why he doesn’t say the words he should. The ones that would erase that concerned gleam from Jared’s eyes and get him on that plane to San Antonio. Instead, he just looks away and mutters, “I need a fucking drink.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jared says firmly, and guns the engine again before Jensen can tell himself he’s made the wrong choice.
xxx
“How’d you find this place?” Jared yells over the thumping bass later that night, eyes glassy with drink and what Jensen thinks--hopes--is excitement. It gives a flushed glow to Jared’s cheeks, his mouth wet from the swipe of his tongue, and Jensen groans a little and tosses back another shot.
The last thing he needs is to be entertaining ideas about how freaking…open Jared seems right now. Hazel green and brown gone soft, sooty lashes drooping low against his cheeks. Dimples flashing, and god, but the kid’s got a mouth on him. Flashes of Jared and Jonathon--
“God…you’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you?”
--and then Jensen’s dick is hard. He shrugs it off, forcing a smile. “I have my ways, young padawan.”
“Hilarious.” Jared’s laughing, none the wiser of Jensen’s less than honorable thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” He licks his lips, imagining the sweet taste of the butterscotch flavoring Jared’s drink.
“Just…” Jared waves a hand, all but pressing up alongside Jensen as he takes in the spectacle before them. Jensen sees surprise warring with interest when Jared’s gaze finally falls on a pair of guys huddled together in a dark booth. Lips and teeth and tongue, hands climbing and pulling, and Jensen shifts in his own seat. Clears his throat and snaps his fingers toward the bartender.
When he glances over again, Jared’s blushing and looking anywhere but at that corner booth. Jensen’s turned on enough to light up a metropolitan center, but he can’t help but laugh at his friend’s expression. “Just…what?” He leans in closer, trying to ignore the snap of adrenaline that shoots up his spine when Jared’s eyes finally meet his own.
A smile curves those shiny-pink lips, and Jensen swallows back a groan that tastes forbidden. “Shut up. I’m new to all this shit, all right?”
“Point taken and understood.” Jensen can’t look away, can’t move, and suddenly they’re right up in each other’s face and it’s nothing like all the times it’s happened before. Because now Jared’s watching him, heavy-lidded, lips parted, and something flashes through his eyes too quick for Jensen to get a real read on, but goddamn if he doesn’t want to.
Which goes against everything he stands for, really. He’s not supposed to care about Jared this way--not supposed to want Jared to care for him. But he can’t deny that now, when he looks up into those tip-tilted eyes, he wants to see himself reflected back.
xxx
“Shut up. I’m new to this shit, all right?” Jared giggles, fucking giggles, and Jensen grabs his glass to keep from pouncing on his co-star and licking the grin from his flushed features the next night.
He’s pretty sure he is crazy now, and if any doubt remained, it was washed away the minute he conned Jared into staying home from Texas--again--and dragged him back to the bar.
Again.
He sidles up close and plies Jared with drinks--hadn’t taken long to find out his choice poison--and within an hour, they’re laughing and horsing around like usual.
Only this time, Jensen hooks his foot around Jared’s ankle roughly two hours into it, and his friend doesn’t move away. He’d noticed, for damn sure--Jensen could tell from the way Jared licked his mouth and smiled at Jensen from under those floppy bangs--but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, Jared got even more friendly: leaning in close to whisper ridiculous jokes into Jensen’s ear, his lips brushing the lobe and sending pleasant chills up and down Jensen’s arms. Every time he laughed, the rumbly vibrations skidded across Jensen’s spine until his fingers shook, and he resisted the urge to reach down, palm his cock until he found some sort of satisfaction from the ever-growing Padalecki Stimulation.
“Sandy told me I ‘as gay before I knew,” Jared’s saying, slurring against Jensen’s neck, and Jensen forces out a slow breath. Stares down at the criss-cross of veins along Jared’s tanned foream resting on his knee, and grunts in response before Jared continues. “She ‘as a smart one, man. Pretty, too.” Jared pauses, then snorts out a regretful laugh. “Jus’ not quite my kind, I guess.”
Jensen flashes his teeth when Jared looks up. “Yeah well, send her on my way. I’m open to all kinds.”
Jared mock-slugs him. “S’my girl you’re talkin’ about.”
“Dude, you dumped her. And now you don’t even like pussy.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jared’s lips poke out, and a wave of undiluted affection rushes through Jensen. “Well, you still can’t have ‘er.”
He reaches out, pats Jared gently on the back, and speaks the closest to the truth that he dares. “Aw, she’s not as pretty as you, Jay.”
“Sweet-talker,” Jared purrs, head against Jensen’s shoulder, lashes batting. Jensen’s not gonna scream, goddamn it, but it’s a close thing. As it is, he all but bites down on his fist before clearing his throat, looking away from what he fears/hopes/wonders is invitation in Jared’s eyes.
“Okay,” he drawls, heart thumping around the laughter in his throat. “Time to get outta here, stud. C’mon.”
Jared puts up a token protest, but in the end he gives in, lets Jensen half-carry him from the club and into the back alley parking lot. “It’s dark,” he points out while Jensen’s struggling for his keys.
“Uh-huh. Happens when our friend the sun goes beddy-bye.” Jensen hears the sarcasm coating his voice, but there’s underlying fondness there, too, and he knows. He’s fucking hopeless. “Come on, Jay, help me out here.”
“Dude, I’m so…” Jared stops, leans against the brick wall and gives an unsteady laugh. Lifting a finger, he brings it up and taps Jensen gently on the end of the nose. “Drunk.”
“Yeah, you are.” Jensen’s got both hands in Jared’s jacket, arms wrapped around his friend and easing him up further against the wall. Jared’s just giggling to himself now, eyes soft on Jensen, looking even more friendly and fucking adorable--and ridiculously sexy, if Jensen's being honest--thanks to long hours and Jim and Jack.
“Gotta plane to catch,” he slurs, shoulders pressed back and hips jutting forward. Pink tongue peeks out, swiping wide mouth, and Jensen’s fingers clench on the curve of Jared’s waist. It’s obvious Jared’s forgotten his vow to stay behind, but Jensen’s more than willing--and capable--to remind him.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that now,” he shushes, voice coming out dark and persuasive. “I got you, it’s okay.”
Way Jared’s looking at him right now, he’s as good as in Jared’s hotel room as anything. As good as has Jared on the bed, half-dressed, miles of honey-brown, lickable skin taunting and tempting to the touch. As good as has Jared fucking hungry for it.
“You’re real pretty y’self.” Jared's voice has gone quiet and dreamy, and Jensen has to bite back a grin. He’s heard the words before, plenty of times, but never in that just-short-of-amazed way like Jared’s just woken up on Christmas morning to find his heart’s desire under the tree, wrapped tight with a shiny red bow. “I think I’mma have to do somethin’ about that.”
Nearly mouth-to-mouth, Jensen licks his lips. Jared groans a little, down deep in his throat, and Jensen laughs, shifts even closer. “Yeah? Like what.”
Which, apparently, it’s not the best idea to provoke Jared in this state. Just that quick, Jensen finds himself dragged to the tips of his toes, big hand crushing the back of his neck. Jared’s mouth is hot, wet, tongue dragging across the back of Jensen’s teeth like he’s expecting to find…well, Jensen doesn’t fucking know. Can’t fucking think, not with this bad of a boner and Jared rolling his hips and making the sexiest, most frustrated sounds Jensen’s ever heard in his entire goddamn life.
“Jen.” He pulls away, breathing harshly against the side of Jensen’s cheek. “Jen, I want…”
“Yeah,” Jensen mutters, reaching up and pulling that too-talkative mouth back down where it belongs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut the fuck up, man.”
They’re halfway to the Palisades, and Jensen’s already got Jared’s shirt rucked up under his arms. Pulls his friend into the shadows when a streetcar goes past, both of them giggling like horny morons, and then Jensen grabs hold of Jared’s hands. Shoves them up over his head, latches onto one of those tight little nipples and bites down when Jared nearly goes ballastic.
“Fuck!” Jared cries out, and it’s not like Jensen’s never heard the guy cuss before. But knowing why has his dick damn near to bursting, and he pulls back, face flushed, lips swollen, and takes a good, long look.
“Shit, Jay,” is all he can say past the lump in his throat. There’s a moment of severe panic when he sees the way Jared’s looking back at him, the trust and affection shining deep in eyes he knows as well as his own.
Jared's smiles is sloppy and sentimental. “Y’such a good friend, Jensen Ackles.” And before Jensen can do a damn thing to stop it, he passes out.
xxx
This time, Jensen thinks, they’re gonna go easy on the Buttery Nipples. It pays to know your subject, and he already knows more about Jared than he’s ever wanted to: little, innocuous things, like how Jared drools when he falls asleep in his trailer, how he only eats ketchup from the portable fast-food packets. How he washes all his clothes regular, but insists on dry-cleaning and ironing his boxer-briefs. Ridiculous, harmless things that make him feel closer to his friend. Now he can add “can’t hold his liquor” to the list, and wonders why it’s taken this long for him to find that out.
Jared’s always been the touchy-feely sort, but with alcohol buzzing pleasantly through his veins, he takes a turn for zero-personal-space. Jensen’s dick is hard from the second Jared leans against him, nose buried down deep in the collar of Jensen’s shirt, and he shifts in his chair. Turns his head, cheek brushing the top of Jared’s hair. Rubs his nose in it and smells the shampoo Jared uses, something like lemondrops. “Wanna get out of here?”
His voice is a low thrum, and Jared looks up. Eyes sparkling and heated, and he licks his lips while Jensen swallows a groan. Too easy. He ought to feel ashamed.
“Fuck yeah,” is all Jared says, and then they’re stumbling out of the bar, hanging onto each other and giggling like drunken idiots which, Jensen supposes, they are. It’s no time at all and little effort on his part before he’s got Jared pressing him down into the mattress in his hotel room. Jared’s whining deep in his throat. Rubbing against Jensen, pupils blown and bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“I feel so…” Jared sighs, lets Jensen shove his shirt up, lips closing around a nipple. Jensen purrs, reaching his arms high up over his head, and Jared sighs. “I feel fucking weird, man.”
Jensen lays a lick across the tightening flesh, hips working in gentle bursts against Jared’s belly. His voice drops to a feverish pitch, thumbs circling Jared’s navel as his mouth plays across his chest. “Mmm…bad weird?”
“I…” Jared sighs again, a throaty purr of breath, and pushes his hips down into Jensen’s hands. His hair falls down across gleaming eyes, rumpled from Jensen’s own fingers. “I dunno, actually. But I mean, isn’t it? Weird? It’s us. You.”
That gives Jensen pause, a flash of frustrated anger spiraling up and throughout him as the words repeat themselves in his mind on a seemingly mocking loop. “Something wrong with me?” he forces out, chokes, refusing to acknowledge the hurt threatening to fill him up on the inside.
Because maybe this was all in the plan, but Jared had gone along with the fucking thing. Several nights in a row, and yeah, they never got this far, but still. You don’t feel something one minute, then turn your back on it the next. At least Jensen didn’t, and he knew--he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt--that Jared felt…something. For him. Something beyond the tried and true “best friends” and “coworkers” bullshit rut they’d fallen into. Maybe his friend is confused, Jensen can understand that, but there’s no way he’s gonna let Jared pull away again. No more “not my type”.
“No, Jen, it’s not you, it’s…” Jared sucks in sharply when Jensen bites down, nibbling down and across Jared’s neck, leaving behind teethmarks and bruises. He knows Jared won’t remember them in the morning, won’t be able to touch them and stroke them like Jensen would do in a reverse situation, but he figures it’s good enough for him to remember. To know he put them there, for a time, and know he’ll have the chance again. And again, and again…at least, until he’s out of this funk or figures out how to break the fucking loop.
“Relax.” He whispers it against toned flesh, silky-soft sounds of appreciation running down his throat as he sucks a bruise along Jared’s pulse. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Who cares what we do.”
“Uh, yeah, this probably ain’t a good idea.” But Jared’s not exactly trying to push Jensen away. He’s just holding on, lying still while Jensen rubs against him, sucks harder, and all but wraps his legs around his waist.
“Says who?” Jensen laughs it, hears Jared’s low chuckle in return. It takes a few seconds, but it’s there, and Jensen leans up. Takes Jared’s ear between his lips and blows hot and warm.
“Fuck.” Jared shivers from head to toe. Grinds down a bit, lashes fluttering, and Jensen marks that one down for a future repeat. His dick twitches at the thought, of having Jared begging and pleading the way he’s never done with anyone else before. Jensen’s pretty sure of that, anyway.
“Hey, I got you. It’s okay,” he purrs, mouth still working even as his fingers start inching their way down the back of Jared’s jeans, finding soft, warm skin and hard muscle along the way. Oh, yeah. He knew those long hours of training and stuntwork were paying off, but it’s a different thing to witness it beneath his mouth and hands than under the bright lights of the studio.
He feels the press of Jared, hard and hot against his thigh, and lets out a little groan before reaching down. Palming the promising length and dragging an answering whimper from Jared’s throat.
“No…wait. Wait.” Jared’s breathing heavy now, head twisting back and forth, and Jensen catches a note of real hesitation coloring his friend’s voice for the first time. When he looks up, meets Jared’s wide gaze, the fear shining in his eyes makes him pull his hand back, lick nervous lips.
“…Jay?”
“Shit. Let go.” Jared jumps up and off the bed, all but flattening himself against the nearby wall. His cheeks are flushed even under the pale glow of moonlight through the window, and Jensen blinks. Jared scootches even farther away, eyes averted and throat working as he swallows and pushes his shirt back down to cover his naked chest. He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “God, Jen. What the hell was that?”
“Thought you were interested,” Jensen says, staring helplessly and feeling like a heel when he glimpses the betrayal glittering out of the corner of Jared’s gaze. “I was interested.”
“Because I’m gay.” Jared’s tone is flat, angry. Hurt. “I fucking trust you with that, and you turn it into a joke?” He nearly spits out the next words. “An excuse to fuck? I thought we were friends!”
“Jesus, we are! Who says friends can’t fuck? I’m hot, you’re hot, your dick’s hard…what is your fucking deal?” He can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but there’s something so fucking irritating about the fact that Jared’s pretending. Pretending that there’s not something there between them, like Jensen’s out to get him or something.
Well, Jensen’s not gonna force the fucker…never was. Yeah, he pushed a little, tested the waters to find out if Jared was just blowing smoke up his ass with the whole “not my type” bullshit or not, and Jensen figures now he’s got his answer. It hurts to know that, to have to face facts that as much as he likes--more than likes, godfuckingdamnit--his co-star, best friend, Jared’s halfway to disgusted of even touching Jensen’s dick.
The realization has his voice coming out sharp, words he doesn’t necessarily mean tearing through the air. “Oh, I get it. You’re a goddamn cocktease, Padalecki. Real nice.”
Jared’s mouth falls open, and when he finally laughs, nothing amusing about the sound, Jensen fights back the urge to flinch. Just stares when Jared nods to himself, still smiling that grotesque mockery of his grin, eyes chock-full of bitter disappointment that Jensen doesn’t dare examine too closely. “Well, hell. Thanks for proving my point for me, Jensen. ”
It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out that one, and Jensen’s brows draw together.
Fuck you.
It lingers, burns on his tongue, but won’t come off. Least, not until Jared tosses off a salute and turns on his heel, storming through the door with a snappy, “See ya in a few weeks.”
Something aches in the middle of Jensen’s chest, a quick, sharp burst that has him reaching up, rubbing his breast with a fist. Then, quiet, “Fuck him.”
Jared was hardly the only option he had. He was just the most obvious.
xxx
Take Three.
Jensen considers punching Jared right in the goddamn eye the next morning, but bites back his anger while his oblivious friend bounces on the bed--“We’re like fucking vampires, Jensen. Or hermits, but then I think of crabs and really, that’s not cool. And vampires are sexier than hermits, well, and crabs, and according to TVGuide, we’re totally sexy so--””
“For the love of God.” Jensen finally shoves him away, sitting up and glaring at the back of Jared’s head as his friend picks himself up and off the floor. “Shut the fuck up, Jay! Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”
“Can’t you see I don’t give a damn?” Jared returns cheerfully, but there’s a glint in his eyes now that Jensen recognizes as confusion. Hurt, maybe, probably, but Jensen’s really the one who doesn’t give a damn.
At least, not anymore.
“Go away,” he mutters, sliding back under the blankets and pulling his pillow over his head. “Or I’m calling security.” Jensen tries to resist saying it, but right now he’s feeling too damn childish. Too damn vindictive. “And your shirt’s ridiculous, dude. Take that shit off before you blind somebody.”
“Such a smug prick.” But the words are snarled this time, with none of the friendliness that makes up Jared Padalecki, and Jensen bites back a wince. There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You know I’m leaving today, right?”
It’s harder than he thinks, even with anger and shame and bitter disappointment coursing through his veins. “Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.”
When the sharp slam sounds seconds later, Jensen’s the one who feels slapped.
xxx
Of course, he can’t hide from Jared forever, so he swallows his feelings down the next day and agrees to accompany his friend on whatever dumbass jaunt Jared has planned now. Jensen already nixed the harbor tour, and the aquarium, and if he never eats at the fucking Lookout again, he’ll die a peaceful, happy man.
His stubborness--although he prefers to think of it as self-preservation, as far as the fucking ferry is concerned--makes it a little difficult at first for Jared to come up with anything decent for them to do. Jensen feels a grim sort of satisfaction about that as he trails behind Jared in downtown Vancouver, sunglasses shading his gaze from the tourists and the locals and Jared himself.
They get recognized more and more often as the months go on and Supernatural’s ratings climb higher, but somehow Jared still hasn’t given much thought to trying to hide himself from the public eye. Not that Jensen thinks the guy needs a disguise or anything crazy--they’re not Jack Nicholson, for chrissake--but still. Jared’s nothing short of a giant, and too easily recognizable because of it. So, really, a pair of dark glasses and a hat isn’t asking too much, right? Especially when the alternative is--
“Jensen, Jared? Kristin from E! You remember me from last year’s Upfronts, right?”
Jensen sighs. He doesn’t even bother hiding a grimace when the overly bouncy gossip columnist pushes through the few people separating her from Sam and Dean Winchester, in the flesh. She beams so brightly it reflects off the tint in Jensen’s glasses.
Jared’s all polite, genuine smile and friendly hello, even though Jensen damn well knows his friend and co-star is no more enamored of the woman than Jensen is himself. Then again, not many in the business really are.
He tunes back into the conversation just in time to hear Kristin’s flimsy explanation--“…in town for some Smallville PR, what a coincidence I ran into you both!” and--“…anything on the remaining upcoming episodes you’d like to share with your viewers?” Tinkling laughter that grates on his nerves, “C’mon, guys, throw us a bone!”
He’d be more willing to if he thought the bitch actually gave a damn about the show.
But Jared is Jared, so it isn’t a minute’s time before Jensen’s all but forgotten, cast back into the shadows of the Unlikely to Entertain, while the eager reporter interviews his co-star and appears to hang onto his every word.
“Can’t really give anything out, sorry,” Jared’s saying now, true regret coloring his voice, and Jensen snickers into a fist. He knows better than anyone how Eric takes Jared aside time and time again, all but threatening to remove his friend’s head if Jared opens his damn mouth one more time to the wrong person. Jared’s enthusiasm for the show is something everyone appreciates, until it winds up in a spoiler blurb in Entertainment Weekly, or even worse, Watch With Kristin.
Apparently realizing she’s getting nowhere fast, Kristin finally turns toward Jensen.
Jared nudges Jensen in the ribs, and Jensen hisses out a breath. Rubs the sore spot and throws a glance at his friend, catching Jared’s warning frown. I get it, Jay, I get it. I can be nice…fucker.
xxx
Next day, he comes prepared. Drags Jared out of the hotel and onto the same downtown street, haphazardly sipping from the bottle of Jim Beam he bought at a brewery along the way. Jared’s been giving him weird looks on and off throughout the day, but Jensen hardly cares. The loopy-warm sensation is more than a little pleasant, and soon he’s smiling at everyone who walks past. Sliding his glasses down his nose to better get a look when a co-ed swishes past, blonde hair streaming over her shoulders and flirty grin curving her lips when Jensen lifts his brows.
Jared laughs, but Jensen imagines a strain to it. Good. Serves the jackass right…he doesn’t want me, there are plenty of people who damn well do.
They’re turning the corner onto Dunsmuir when Jared slows, lets out a groan. Grabs hold of Jensen’s arm and squeezes in comic alarm. “Aw, shit, don’t look now, but--”
Jensen’s already rubbing his hands together in anticipation, feeling loose and uninhibited. Fucking good. “Kristin Veitch! In the flesh!” he calls out in an exaggerated drawl, watching with satisfaction as the reporter turns their way.
“Dude, what the hell are you--”
“Jared! Jensen!” Kristin sidles up to them, eyes skimming over the open whiskey in Jensen’s hand. She laughs. “Starting early, huh?”
Jensen slings an arm around her shoulders, leans close. “We’re friends, right, Kristin?”
“Of course!”
“Jensen.” Jared sounds more than a little confused. And worried.
Jensen ignores him. Rests both hands on Kristin’s shoulders and looks down deep into her eyes, voice gone serious. “Good. Because I got somethin’ I wanna say.”
Kristin’s eyes flare with surprise, then excitement. “Wonderful! Just let me find us a quieter place to talk, and you can tell me anything you want about the show…that won’t get you in trouble of course,” she tags on like an afterthought.
“Fuck Supernatural.” Jensen blows a raspberry, waves a hand, pulling her in next to him. “We have more interesting things to discuss than that, right, Kristin?”
“We do?” Kristin says at the same time Jared barks, “You do?”
“Yeah, probably.” Jensen shifts on his feet, gesturing toward himself. “C’mon, ask me anything.”
xxx
After an hour of finding an appropriate place to “chat”, Kristin’s delighted, and Jared looks ready to chew someone’s head off. Jensen, however is feeling fiiiine. Maybe for the first time in a long while.
“Man, fuck Jessica Simpson up her tight ass. And I mean that literally. Girl’s a tightass, least she was back then. And you can print that.” Jensen takes another sip, shrugs his shoulders while Jared’s mouth hangs wide open. “Eh, anyway, now I hear she’ll go elbows up for anyone on a dime--”
“Jensen!” Jared finally hisses, slanting a forced apologetic smile toward Kristin and dragging Jensen away.
“Hey, hey, watch the merchandise, Tonto!”
xxx
“Oh yeah, Joanna was hot.”
Jared drops his head into his hands, and everyone else waits with bated breath. Jensen twiddles his thumbs, all but whistling a tune until he realizes all eyes are still on him. Even Jared’s, although his best friend looks a little bit terrified as to what might come out next.
Oh Jay, you got no idea.
“Anything else?” Kristin prompts politely, eyes wide and voice recorder at the ready.
“No, really, that’s pretty much it.” Jensen slips his hands into his pockets, relishing Jared’s sigh relief as his co-star turns to shoo the reporter away under the guise of “thanks a lot, ma’am. We really appreciate your interest”.
Jensen turns toward a group of college-age guys, all trying to look as bored as possible and yet staying close to the action. “Yeah, Joanna…she’s got a big mouth but…can’t really complain when that’s what I liked about her, if ya catch my drift.” Quick wink, and the guys laugh amongst themselves. Kristin turns back around, looking scandalized, but avidly interested, as well.
“Oh, for the love of.” Suddenly Jared’s there, grabbing him by the arm, jerking Jensen back. “What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Hey, jus’ telling it like it is. They all do it.” Sure, it’s spiteful to point out, but he no longer gives a damn. Just spreads his arms wide, sloshing his drink over the rim and onto his feet. He sends Jared a solemn glare. “Damn it! Now look what you’ve done.”
xxx
The best thing about repeating the same day over and over, Jensen finds out soon enough, is that there really are no repercussions. He drinks himself into a stupor one night without a hangover in sight the next morning. Gets into a fight with the homophobic hotel concierge and blackens the asswipe’s eye, laughing off his threats of legal action. Fucks a pretty little barmaid, a struggling actress--and aren’t they all--in a dirty alley after promising to talk to his agent about representation. Course, he walks right by her the next day and she barely gives him a second glance.
Each of these times, Jared’s nowhere in sight. Jensen’s not sure if he’s avoiding his friend because he’s still embarrassed, hurt, pissed about Jared’s rejection, or if Jared’s presence somehow keeps him from actually having a good time.
Yeah, sure, keep on lying to yourself, man. Truth is, you can’t stand to look at him. Not when you know he’d rather let some random-ass guest star fuck his mouth than hook up with you.
Even when Jared’s not around, he’s still on Jensen’s mind. And Jensen’s a little worried about the lengths he would have to take to make it any other way.
He’s half-stoned off a bag of pretty damn decent weed he bought from some guy downtown when Jared barges into his hotel room without bothering to announce himself. Jensen has the faraway thought that maybe he shouldn’t have given Jared a key, but he’s too damn pleased to see his friend.
“J-money!” he calls out from his upside-down spot on the bed, waving enthusiastically. “Oh my god, it’s Jared Padalecki!”
Jared huffs out a breath, expression tight and controlled like Sam Winchester on a bad day. “Are you on drugs?”
Jensen thinks for a second. Beams. “Yes!”
Obviously not expecting so direct an admission, Jared’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he blurts out, “Why?”
“Why not?” Jensen shrugs, shimmying up the mattress and onto his knees. He holds the burning joint toward Jared’s appalled face, wiggling his brows as lazy warmth fills his body. “C’mon, man. I don’t have cooties. Got my shot ‘n everything.”
“Drugs are bad,” Jared says absently, staring at Jensen’s glassy, bloodshot eyes--Jensen knows they are because he spent about twenty minutes in the bathroom trying to put his contacts in backward--and then Jared blinks, seems to come to. “Jensen!”
Jensen cringes, jumps up and slaps a warning hand across Jared’s mouth. “Shh! You’ll wake them up!”
“Wake who up?”
Jared’s sounding pissed, but Jensen barely notices. “The bunnies!” he explains, rolling his eyes because, really, Jared’s kind of an idiot, apparently.
“The…bunnies.”
“Dust bunnies. Under my bed.” Jensen leans in close, smacking his lips when he catches a whiff of Jared’s cologne. “They live there. Whoa. You smell like candy.” Jensen’s tongue comes out, tracing the line of Jared’s jugular.
At this, Jared about jumps ten feet to get across the room. Jensen stares after him, eyes and lips hungry, but Jared’s red-faced and won’t meet his gaze. “You’re, uh, gonna die of smoke inhalation if you don’t crack a freaking window in here.”
For the first time, he notices the blue-gray wisps circling his head. “Huh. Weird.”
Maybe there was something else in that weed after all.
But that’s hardly important now--not when Jared’s standing there looking and smelling and tasting like the best treat Jensen’s never had and, when he says as much out loud, Jared squirms and shoots him an incredulous look.
“What is wrong with you?” But his tone isn’t mad so much as…embarrassed? Surprised, maybe?
“I wanna fuck you,” Jensen says. “And I think maybe I love you, even though you’re a total bitch sometimes. But mostly, I wanna fuck you.”
“Oh my god.”
Taking in Jared’s wide eyes, Jensen inhales another hit and walks over. “I saw you sucking Jonathon’s dick that day. Can’t stop thinkin’ about it, you know? Your pretty little mouth, wrapped tight around my cock.” A delicious shiver races up his spine that has nothing to do with illegal cannabis.
“You…I…” He’s got Jared’s attention now, as much good as it does him since Jared still won’t even look his way. “Jensen, I really think you need to lay off the pot, pal.”
Just that quick, Jensen’s strung-out temper comes raging and boiling up through hazy satisfaction. “And I think you need to get the fuck outta here, if looking at me disgusts you that much, Jared.”
“Jensen--”
He turns around and locks himself in the bathroom, puffing away and ignoring Jared’s voice until it’s gone again, leaving him in blessed, stoned silence.
xxx
He doesn’t even pretend to wake up the next day, having remembered everything with painful, stark clarity. Just lets Jared push him and pull him until the overgrown asshole gets a clue and finally leaves with a sigh.
xxx
By the time he agrees to go out with Jared again, he’s prepared ahead of time. Knows exactly what he’s gonna say, and do, and when they walk into the bar and see Mike and Tom waving enthusiastically from the back corner, he pats Jared on the chest. Offers him a vague smile. “Go on ahead, I’m just gonna grab a drink.”
Jared smiles, all too willing to trust the Jensen he thinks he knows, the Jensen untouched by days, weeks, of the same old humilation and despair--what, he’s an actor. He can be as dramatic as he fucking wants to be. Jared nods, walks over to their friends, already starting a lively conversation Jensen feels only a fleeting pang of regret over missing.
Because he’s already caught sight of a coquettish brunette across the room, tall and long-legged and looking most definitely like she wouldn’t be against sucking Jensen Ackles’ dick in the bathroom.
He doesn’t think about the beauty mark on her cheek, or the way his thumb unconsciously caresses it, circles it, sending grateful thoughts of yes, oh thank god, finally running through his mind. He just clenches his hand in thick, dark hair, closes his eyes and doesn’t imagine another mouth entirely.
When he gets back to the table, his cheeks are hot, flushed with orgasm, hair mussed. He’s got a grin on his face and a gleam in his eye. Tom’s the first to notice, falling silent as Mike and Jared continue carrying on about whatever they’d been discussing before Jensen had shown up.
Jared eventually looks up, sees Jensen, starts to smile and ask “What took you so--” He trails off as Jensen slides into the booth next to him, long fingers curling tight around a mug of beer.
“Jesus, Jensen. Who’d you have to fuck to get a drink in this place?” Mike cracks, but the joke falls flat at the look on Jared’s face. No one else seems to notice, except maybe for Tom who’s always been more aware of Jared than Jensen deems necessary.
Jared’s not looking at him, but he manages a smile. “Was she cute?”
The same old frustration rises up to choke him, and Jensen feels a little like rattling the cage. “What makes you think it was a she?” he tosses out before he can think better of it, can remember the other two pairs of interested eyes and ears. But Jared’s head snaps up, gaze locking to Jensen’s, and he wonders if he’s imagining the bit of jealousy darkening that easy gaze.
When Jared starts laughing a minute later, clapping Jensen on the shoulder like a proud papa or some such shit, he figures it was all wishful thinking after all.
“Gotta flight to catch,” Jared says a little later, and Jensen politely excuses himself. Walks outside and calls a cab to take him back to the hotel.
xxx
Things just get worse.
Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever really seen Jared truly angry. Never for real, and certainly not at him, anyway, but there’s no mistaking that flare of nostrils, wide-blown pupils and pressed-tight lips. He sees it almost every day on set, directed at Dean or John or whatever guest-star of the week is unlucky enough to be on the receiving end. And he’s pretty damn sure what’s coming next:
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Oh, yeah. There it is. Slap on a hoodie or two and call him Sam Winchester.
“Whassit look like?” Jensen slurs, arm wrapped tight around the the neck of the blonde girl whose face he can barely remember and whose name he certainly never bothered to find out. He slides a cheerful grin to his left, sees the dark-haired pretty boy from his first few nights at this particular club. Looks back at Jared and beams. “Fan service, friend-of-mine. Thought about what you said, and figured I’d give it a try…or two.” He wiggles his brows, making everyone laugh…but Jared.
Something hot flashes through his friend’s eyes, but just as quickly it’s replaced by something Jensen doesn’t really want to label as pity. Not that he’d let that stop him, doesn’t let it mean a damn--not like Jared ever knew what he was missing anyway.
“So, I guess you’re not coming to see me off.” Jared's tone's infinitely polite, and cold as a stranger’s.
What’s-her-face is licking a warm stripe up the side of Jensen’s neck now, fruity lipgloss a slick-slide on flesh, and he tilts his head and tries not to think about how he doesn’t even fucking like cherries. “Guess not. But you know, call me when you get in and all.”
“Sure thing.” Jared’s eyes flicker back and forth as the guy slides closer, reaches down and cups Jensen through the front of his pants. “Have fun, Jensen.”
“Plan to,” he calls out to Jared’s already retreating back, but now the girl’s tongue feels slimy and the guy’s hands are clammy and stifling. Once Jared’s out of sight, he pushes them away, stumbling back. When they try to latch back on, he slaps at them blindly. “Get the fuck off of me.”
“Asshole,” he hears the girl hiss, feeling along the wall for the exit. Suddenly everything’s spinning too fast, everything’s too bright, and he’s pretty damn sure he’s about to throw up his dinner. Meager as it was.
He barely makes it outside, the fresh air settling his stomach somewhat as he leans back, sliding down the wall with his head in his hands.
“Jensen, jesus christ, what…” Concern etches Jared’s voice, and then Jensen’s being lifted carefully to his feet. Cool fingers trace his face, holding his chin and forcing him to look up and meet Jared’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Jensen blinks slowly, wanting to sob like a little fucking girl as it all finally clicks into place. “What’re you doin’ here? Thought…” Something in his stomach bubbles up again, and he clutches Jared’s arm. “Thought you left.”
“I came back to yell at you some more. You’re acting like a real prick, you know that?” But Jared’s tone holds little to no heat, and Jensen groans. Leans forward as another wave of nausea builds and he can’t help thinking, If I never throw up in front of you again, it’ll be too fucking soon.
“Sorry,” he gets out around a gasp a few minutes later, rubbing at his mouth like it’ll make the bitter taste go away. “Guess I drank too much.”
“Guess so.” Jared sounds tired now, and worried. His voice turns soft and pleading, pulling at something down deep in Jensen’s bones. “Jen…talk to me, man. What’s going on? You never act like this.”
He has to laugh at that, considering he’s made it his life mission as of late to turn into the biggest, most unrepentant jackass the world’s ever seen. And for what? Because Jared fucking Padalecki doesn’t find him worthy?
Hell, Jensen hardly finds himself worthy anymore.
But all he says is, “Bad day.”
A beat of silence, and then Jared sighs. Starts digging around in his pocket. “Come on, let’s get you home and to bed.”
“Sure thing, Ma Padalecki,” Jensen jokes, but gratefully accepts the stick of gum Jared holds out to him.
Jared’s warm laugh is like a balm, and Jensen lets his friend put an arm around him. Lets Jared lead him out to where his car’s parked in haphazard anger, and Jensen can just imagine the scene that’d taken place before.
“Can’t believe you came back.” He doesn’t really mean for Jared to hear it. But Jared does all the same, and those big hands squeeze his shoulder and have Jensen blinking back tears he hasn’t cried since he can’t even remember when.
This time, Jared’s sigh holds more than resignation. To Jensen it seems like relief, frustration, love…all wrapped up in a huff of warm breath. “I’ll always come back for you, man,” Jared says, just short of a whisper, and Jensen smiles.
“Don’t get all sappy on me.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
“S’more like it.”
There’s a smile in Jared’s voice as he shoves Jensen playfully toward the passenger side. “Get in the car, Jensen.”
“Where’re we going?” he thinks to ask, not that it matters. As long as Jared’s there, as long it’s the two of them…hell, Jared’s not the only sappy motherfucker in this relationship.
Jared ignores the question in favor of, “You know you talk to yourself when you’re wasted?”
Jensen blinks. “I do?” He feels like maybe that should worry him, but he can’t quite get a handle right now on why. “Huh. What do I say? Anything good?”
Jared’s laugh is strangled, and he turns the wheel a little too hard. “Sometimes, I guess. Mostly you just, um, tell me how pretty I am and how you want me to…” He cuts himself off, biting down so hard on his lip that Jensen sees white at the corner of his mouth.
He’s momentarily fascinated. “Want you to what?”
“Never mind. Forget it, I shouldn’t bring it up now.” Jared’s talking too fast, cheeks two flags of color, lit up by the reflecting tail lights from the car in front of them. It makes Jensen feel hot, possessive, almost stupidly protective as he turns in his seat and licks his lips.
“Bring it up,” he murmurs, voice low, challenging. He catches Jared’s wary look. “C’mon, Jay…I dare you.”
“Nah, man. It’s no big deal.”
Jensen’s teeth flash. “Triple-dog dare you.”
“When’d you get so damn…” Jared sputters.
“Stubborn?” He leans closer, lets his hand hover for a few seconds over Jared’s knee. Gives his friend plenty of time to pull away, warn him off. When Jared just swallows, throat working, Jensen drops his hand and squeezes. “When I figured out what I wanted.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?” Jared’s tone turns a bit belligerent, but Jensen thinks he spies something like hope coloring Jared’s gaze. And wishful thinking or not, he doesn’t give a damn.
Not anymore.
“Take a wild guess.” He slides his hand up, feels just the barest hint of Jared’s erection, smirks. “Well. Looks like I wasn’t wrong.”
Just like that, Jared seems to deflate right before his eyes. He pulls over quickly, switching off the ignition and catapulting them into darkness. Jensen blinks a few times, makes out Jared’s profile in the dim moonlight. His best friend is watching him, and yes, there’s definitely hope there. But there’s also the same fear Jensen’s glimpsed plenty of times before and never knew to put a name to.
Now he does, and he still isn’t sure how to take it away.
“Jensen.” Jared’s voice comes out whisper-soft, thrumming in the air between them, and Jensen feels suddenly shy. He holds Jared’s gaze, refusing to back down until he gets an answer. “I don’t…I’m not sure this is the best idea.”
Jared’s more than a little hesitant, confused, and it’s the perfect opportunity for Jensen to take advantage. Push the situation to his liking, make Jared see just how good--great--an idea it really is.
Then he catches Jared’s worried gaze, and sits back. Closes his eyes. “Yeah, it’s probably not.”
Part 1 | Part 3
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: Part 2
By keepaofthecheez.
Take Two.
Well, so it wasn’t a dream.
Jensen figures that out about two seconds after waking up, heart pounding when Jared tackles him to the bed--“Get up, princess. We’re spending the day together!”
Rather understandably in his own humble opinion, he freaks the fuck out. Orders his confused friend out and spends the rest of the morning huddled under his blankets, ignoring the continuously ringing phone and thumping knocks, usually accompanied by either Mike, or Tom, or both screaming at him from behind the door about what an insensitive freak he is.
“This isn’t happening.” Jensen can say it as many times as he wants, but every time he pops his head out, or goes to take a piss, he catches sight of the goofy Star Wars calendar Jared tacked up next to the window. Days crossed off, bright red circle around the Friday Jared’s going home.
Today.
Again.
He’s crossed off that little square stormtrooper three times now, and it hasn’t changed a damn thing. He’s never really been one to experience déjà vu anyway, but he’s also pretty damn sure this is more than just that.
The likely explanation was one Jensen wasn’t really sure he was ready to admit to himself. When the phone rings again, Jared’s name flashing in tandem with the spooky theme from Supernatural, he breathes deep. Thinks back on the conversation that took place back when Jared up and decided they should show their support of the show through their ringtones.
“It’s this or a tattoo of Sam’s face on your ass, man. You decide.”
“Jared,” he says now, voice shaky and not a little afraid. He feels Jared’s concern across the line, though his friend’s not speaking. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there.”
And Jared always will be, and maybe that’s even scarier than all the rest of it put together.
xxx
“Well, you’re in perfect physical health.”
Jensen pinches the bridge of his nose, tries not to think about Jared standing outside in the waiting room, probably pacing back and forth like a worried parent. Yeah, maybe he should’ve told Jared what was up…but to be fair to himself, he still doesn’t have a fucking clue.
Speaking of: “So then, what the hell’s wrong with me?”
The doctor raises a brow at his sarcastic tone, but keeps right on smiling politely. “Stress, and lots of it. It can make us lose our cool, keep us on edge, even delude us into imagining the far-fetched as a method of coping.”
Jensen makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I’m not imagining…” He rubs his forehead and sends the bemused doctor a pained smile. “Okay, so. Is there any medication for this? Dope me up, man, because seriously. This shit’s beyond fucked up.”
“I suggest resting,” the doctor returns wryly, and Jensen imagines strangling the guy where he stands. Wonders if sharing that with the good doctor might get him to stop looking at Jensen like he’s fucking crazy but he’s not gonna do a damn thing about it. “Or possibly, therapy,” the doctor adds, and Jensen blinks.
“So, I am crazy.”
“Not crazy, Mr. Ackles. It’s actually quite common to have disconcerting dreams, nightmares, during a period of emotional upheavel. Not unlike what you’re going through worrying over the possibility of your television series’ cancellation. Uprooting again, starting all over.”
“Didn’t realize I’d already signed up for therapy,” Jensen snarks under his breath, then clears his throat at the knock on the door.
Jared pops his head in, worried expression in place. “Jen? Everything okay?”
“Peachy. Tell him, doc.” Jensen slides off of the table, rubbing his hands together, eyes catching on the lit-up X-rays decorating the wall of the exam room. His freaking brain, right there on display, and--apparently--not a damn thing wrong with it.
Son of a bitch.
“I’ve recommended your friend get some rest, relaxation.” The doctor shakes Jared’s proffered hand, smiling widely. “My wife’s a big fan, Mr. Padalecki.”
Jensen blinks in confusion--sure didn’t seem to recognize me--until he hears the words “Gilmore Girls” and Jared’s enthusiastic laughter following afterward.
Freaking figures.
He’s buckling himself into the passenger seat of Jared’s silver Lexus twenty minutes later, paperwork from the doctor’s office--including the name of a “trusted” psychologist--crumpled in his lap.
“Well, I guess we’re gonna miss the aquarium,” Jensen mutters to himself, knowing Jared can’t hear him over the strains of Our Lady Peace. “And the ferry ride. Not that that’s gonna keep me up at night.”
They pull up in front of Jensen’s hotel, and Jared turns the ignition, the engine’s smooth purr giving way to silence. Then, “I’m gonna cancel my flight.”
Jensen starts, blinking from behind his sunglasses as he sits up and stares at Jared, who’s looking straight out the windshield. His expression is much too serious for Jensen's playful friend. “Huh?”
It takes a second, then Jared sighs a little. Shifts behind the wheel and sends Jensen a soft smile. Shakes his head. “I can’t just…I can’t leave you like this, Jen.”
Something warm rushes through Jensen’s veins, settling deep in his belly and spreading out to his toes. “Like what?” He can’t manage to hold Jared’s intense stare, begins picking at the fraying denim above the heel of his shoe.
“Freaked out.” Another small sigh, more frustrated this time, and then Jared’s squeezing his shoulder with strong fingers. “C’mon, man. I know you. You can sit there and act big and bad, but you’re scared shitless about something, and I’m not gonna run off and leave you here to deal with it by yourself!”
Emotion clogs Jensen’s voice, makes it gruff and heavy. “All right, Sam.”
Jared snorts, but it’s kinda true. There’s a lot about their characters that’s different from them, but plenty that’s the same, too. For Jared, he shares Sam’s compassion, understanding, insight. Sometimes it makes Jensen downright uncomfortable the way his friend seems to know him better than he does himself. Like they almost are brothers, and this is definitely one of those times.
Thing is, he can relate all too well to Dean’s selfish desire to keep Sam close, and that’s why he doesn’t say the words he should. The ones that would erase that concerned gleam from Jared’s eyes and get him on that plane to San Antonio. Instead, he just looks away and mutters, “I need a fucking drink.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jared says firmly, and guns the engine again before Jensen can tell himself he’s made the wrong choice.
xxx
“How’d you find this place?” Jared yells over the thumping bass later that night, eyes glassy with drink and what Jensen thinks--hopes--is excitement. It gives a flushed glow to Jared’s cheeks, his mouth wet from the swipe of his tongue, and Jensen groans a little and tosses back another shot.
The last thing he needs is to be entertaining ideas about how freaking…open Jared seems right now. Hazel green and brown gone soft, sooty lashes drooping low against his cheeks. Dimples flashing, and god, but the kid’s got a mouth on him. Flashes of Jared and Jonathon--
“God…you’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you?”
--and then Jensen’s dick is hard. He shrugs it off, forcing a smile. “I have my ways, young padawan.”
“Hilarious.” Jared’s laughing, none the wiser of Jensen’s less than honorable thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” He licks his lips, imagining the sweet taste of the butterscotch flavoring Jared’s drink.
“Just…” Jared waves a hand, all but pressing up alongside Jensen as he takes in the spectacle before them. Jensen sees surprise warring with interest when Jared’s gaze finally falls on a pair of guys huddled together in a dark booth. Lips and teeth and tongue, hands climbing and pulling, and Jensen shifts in his own seat. Clears his throat and snaps his fingers toward the bartender.
When he glances over again, Jared’s blushing and looking anywhere but at that corner booth. Jensen’s turned on enough to light up a metropolitan center, but he can’t help but laugh at his friend’s expression. “Just…what?” He leans in closer, trying to ignore the snap of adrenaline that shoots up his spine when Jared’s eyes finally meet his own.
A smile curves those shiny-pink lips, and Jensen swallows back a groan that tastes forbidden. “Shut up. I’m new to all this shit, all right?”
“Point taken and understood.” Jensen can’t look away, can’t move, and suddenly they’re right up in each other’s face and it’s nothing like all the times it’s happened before. Because now Jared’s watching him, heavy-lidded, lips parted, and something flashes through his eyes too quick for Jensen to get a real read on, but goddamn if he doesn’t want to.
Which goes against everything he stands for, really. He’s not supposed to care about Jared this way--not supposed to want Jared to care for him. But he can’t deny that now, when he looks up into those tip-tilted eyes, he wants to see himself reflected back.
xxx
“Shut up. I’m new to this shit, all right?” Jared giggles, fucking giggles, and Jensen grabs his glass to keep from pouncing on his co-star and licking the grin from his flushed features the next night.
He’s pretty sure he is crazy now, and if any doubt remained, it was washed away the minute he conned Jared into staying home from Texas--again--and dragged him back to the bar.
Again.
He sidles up close and plies Jared with drinks--hadn’t taken long to find out his choice poison--and within an hour, they’re laughing and horsing around like usual.
Only this time, Jensen hooks his foot around Jared’s ankle roughly two hours into it, and his friend doesn’t move away. He’d noticed, for damn sure--Jensen could tell from the way Jared licked his mouth and smiled at Jensen from under those floppy bangs--but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, Jared got even more friendly: leaning in close to whisper ridiculous jokes into Jensen’s ear, his lips brushing the lobe and sending pleasant chills up and down Jensen’s arms. Every time he laughed, the rumbly vibrations skidded across Jensen’s spine until his fingers shook, and he resisted the urge to reach down, palm his cock until he found some sort of satisfaction from the ever-growing Padalecki Stimulation.
“Sandy told me I ‘as gay before I knew,” Jared’s saying, slurring against Jensen’s neck, and Jensen forces out a slow breath. Stares down at the criss-cross of veins along Jared’s tanned foream resting on his knee, and grunts in response before Jared continues. “She ‘as a smart one, man. Pretty, too.” Jared pauses, then snorts out a regretful laugh. “Jus’ not quite my kind, I guess.”
Jensen flashes his teeth when Jared looks up. “Yeah well, send her on my way. I’m open to all kinds.”
Jared mock-slugs him. “S’my girl you’re talkin’ about.”
“Dude, you dumped her. And now you don’t even like pussy.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jared’s lips poke out, and a wave of undiluted affection rushes through Jensen. “Well, you still can’t have ‘er.”
He reaches out, pats Jared gently on the back, and speaks the closest to the truth that he dares. “Aw, she’s not as pretty as you, Jay.”
“Sweet-talker,” Jared purrs, head against Jensen’s shoulder, lashes batting. Jensen’s not gonna scream, goddamn it, but it’s a close thing. As it is, he all but bites down on his fist before clearing his throat, looking away from what he fears/hopes/wonders is invitation in Jared’s eyes.
“Okay,” he drawls, heart thumping around the laughter in his throat. “Time to get outta here, stud. C’mon.”
Jared puts up a token protest, but in the end he gives in, lets Jensen half-carry him from the club and into the back alley parking lot. “It’s dark,” he points out while Jensen’s struggling for his keys.
“Uh-huh. Happens when our friend the sun goes beddy-bye.” Jensen hears the sarcasm coating his voice, but there’s underlying fondness there, too, and he knows. He’s fucking hopeless. “Come on, Jay, help me out here.”
“Dude, I’m so…” Jared stops, leans against the brick wall and gives an unsteady laugh. Lifting a finger, he brings it up and taps Jensen gently on the end of the nose. “Drunk.”
“Yeah, you are.” Jensen’s got both hands in Jared’s jacket, arms wrapped around his friend and easing him up further against the wall. Jared’s just giggling to himself now, eyes soft on Jensen, looking even more friendly and fucking adorable--and ridiculously sexy, if Jensen's being honest--thanks to long hours and Jim and Jack.
“Gotta plane to catch,” he slurs, shoulders pressed back and hips jutting forward. Pink tongue peeks out, swiping wide mouth, and Jensen’s fingers clench on the curve of Jared’s waist. It’s obvious Jared’s forgotten his vow to stay behind, but Jensen’s more than willing--and capable--to remind him.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that now,” he shushes, voice coming out dark and persuasive. “I got you, it’s okay.”
Way Jared’s looking at him right now, he’s as good as in Jared’s hotel room as anything. As good as has Jared on the bed, half-dressed, miles of honey-brown, lickable skin taunting and tempting to the touch. As good as has Jared fucking hungry for it.
“You’re real pretty y’self.” Jared's voice has gone quiet and dreamy, and Jensen has to bite back a grin. He’s heard the words before, plenty of times, but never in that just-short-of-amazed way like Jared’s just woken up on Christmas morning to find his heart’s desire under the tree, wrapped tight with a shiny red bow. “I think I’mma have to do somethin’ about that.”
Nearly mouth-to-mouth, Jensen licks his lips. Jared groans a little, down deep in his throat, and Jensen laughs, shifts even closer. “Yeah? Like what.”
Which, apparently, it’s not the best idea to provoke Jared in this state. Just that quick, Jensen finds himself dragged to the tips of his toes, big hand crushing the back of his neck. Jared’s mouth is hot, wet, tongue dragging across the back of Jensen’s teeth like he’s expecting to find…well, Jensen doesn’t fucking know. Can’t fucking think, not with this bad of a boner and Jared rolling his hips and making the sexiest, most frustrated sounds Jensen’s ever heard in his entire goddamn life.
“Jen.” He pulls away, breathing harshly against the side of Jensen’s cheek. “Jen, I want…”
“Yeah,” Jensen mutters, reaching up and pulling that too-talkative mouth back down where it belongs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut the fuck up, man.”
They’re halfway to the Palisades, and Jensen’s already got Jared’s shirt rucked up under his arms. Pulls his friend into the shadows when a streetcar goes past, both of them giggling like horny morons, and then Jensen grabs hold of Jared’s hands. Shoves them up over his head, latches onto one of those tight little nipples and bites down when Jared nearly goes ballastic.
“Fuck!” Jared cries out, and it’s not like Jensen’s never heard the guy cuss before. But knowing why has his dick damn near to bursting, and he pulls back, face flushed, lips swollen, and takes a good, long look.
“Shit, Jay,” is all he can say past the lump in his throat. There’s a moment of severe panic when he sees the way Jared’s looking back at him, the trust and affection shining deep in eyes he knows as well as his own.
Jared's smiles is sloppy and sentimental. “Y’such a good friend, Jensen Ackles.” And before Jensen can do a damn thing to stop it, he passes out.
xxx
This time, Jensen thinks, they’re gonna go easy on the Buttery Nipples. It pays to know your subject, and he already knows more about Jared than he’s ever wanted to: little, innocuous things, like how Jared drools when he falls asleep in his trailer, how he only eats ketchup from the portable fast-food packets. How he washes all his clothes regular, but insists on dry-cleaning and ironing his boxer-briefs. Ridiculous, harmless things that make him feel closer to his friend. Now he can add “can’t hold his liquor” to the list, and wonders why it’s taken this long for him to find that out.
Jared’s always been the touchy-feely sort, but with alcohol buzzing pleasantly through his veins, he takes a turn for zero-personal-space. Jensen’s dick is hard from the second Jared leans against him, nose buried down deep in the collar of Jensen’s shirt, and he shifts in his chair. Turns his head, cheek brushing the top of Jared’s hair. Rubs his nose in it and smells the shampoo Jared uses, something like lemondrops. “Wanna get out of here?”
His voice is a low thrum, and Jared looks up. Eyes sparkling and heated, and he licks his lips while Jensen swallows a groan. Too easy. He ought to feel ashamed.
“Fuck yeah,” is all Jared says, and then they’re stumbling out of the bar, hanging onto each other and giggling like drunken idiots which, Jensen supposes, they are. It’s no time at all and little effort on his part before he’s got Jared pressing him down into the mattress in his hotel room. Jared’s whining deep in his throat. Rubbing against Jensen, pupils blown and bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“I feel so…” Jared sighs, lets Jensen shove his shirt up, lips closing around a nipple. Jensen purrs, reaching his arms high up over his head, and Jared sighs. “I feel fucking weird, man.”
Jensen lays a lick across the tightening flesh, hips working in gentle bursts against Jared’s belly. His voice drops to a feverish pitch, thumbs circling Jared’s navel as his mouth plays across his chest. “Mmm…bad weird?”
“I…” Jared sighs again, a throaty purr of breath, and pushes his hips down into Jensen’s hands. His hair falls down across gleaming eyes, rumpled from Jensen’s own fingers. “I dunno, actually. But I mean, isn’t it? Weird? It’s us. You.”
That gives Jensen pause, a flash of frustrated anger spiraling up and throughout him as the words repeat themselves in his mind on a seemingly mocking loop. “Something wrong with me?” he forces out, chokes, refusing to acknowledge the hurt threatening to fill him up on the inside.
Because maybe this was all in the plan, but Jared had gone along with the fucking thing. Several nights in a row, and yeah, they never got this far, but still. You don’t feel something one minute, then turn your back on it the next. At least Jensen didn’t, and he knew--he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt--that Jared felt…something. For him. Something beyond the tried and true “best friends” and “coworkers” bullshit rut they’d fallen into. Maybe his friend is confused, Jensen can understand that, but there’s no way he’s gonna let Jared pull away again. No more “not my type”.
“No, Jen, it’s not you, it’s…” Jared sucks in sharply when Jensen bites down, nibbling down and across Jared’s neck, leaving behind teethmarks and bruises. He knows Jared won’t remember them in the morning, won’t be able to touch them and stroke them like Jensen would do in a reverse situation, but he figures it’s good enough for him to remember. To know he put them there, for a time, and know he’ll have the chance again. And again, and again…at least, until he’s out of this funk or figures out how to break the fucking loop.
“Relax.” He whispers it against toned flesh, silky-soft sounds of appreciation running down his throat as he sucks a bruise along Jared’s pulse. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Who cares what we do.”
“Uh, yeah, this probably ain’t a good idea.” But Jared’s not exactly trying to push Jensen away. He’s just holding on, lying still while Jensen rubs against him, sucks harder, and all but wraps his legs around his waist.
“Says who?” Jensen laughs it, hears Jared’s low chuckle in return. It takes a few seconds, but it’s there, and Jensen leans up. Takes Jared’s ear between his lips and blows hot and warm.
“Fuck.” Jared shivers from head to toe. Grinds down a bit, lashes fluttering, and Jensen marks that one down for a future repeat. His dick twitches at the thought, of having Jared begging and pleading the way he’s never done with anyone else before. Jensen’s pretty sure of that, anyway.
“Hey, I got you. It’s okay,” he purrs, mouth still working even as his fingers start inching their way down the back of Jared’s jeans, finding soft, warm skin and hard muscle along the way. Oh, yeah. He knew those long hours of training and stuntwork were paying off, but it’s a different thing to witness it beneath his mouth and hands than under the bright lights of the studio.
He feels the press of Jared, hard and hot against his thigh, and lets out a little groan before reaching down. Palming the promising length and dragging an answering whimper from Jared’s throat.
“No…wait. Wait.” Jared’s breathing heavy now, head twisting back and forth, and Jensen catches a note of real hesitation coloring his friend’s voice for the first time. When he looks up, meets Jared’s wide gaze, the fear shining in his eyes makes him pull his hand back, lick nervous lips.
“…Jay?”
“Shit. Let go.” Jared jumps up and off the bed, all but flattening himself against the nearby wall. His cheeks are flushed even under the pale glow of moonlight through the window, and Jensen blinks. Jared scootches even farther away, eyes averted and throat working as he swallows and pushes his shirt back down to cover his naked chest. He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “God, Jen. What the hell was that?”
“Thought you were interested,” Jensen says, staring helplessly and feeling like a heel when he glimpses the betrayal glittering out of the corner of Jared’s gaze. “I was interested.”
“Because I’m gay.” Jared’s tone is flat, angry. Hurt. “I fucking trust you with that, and you turn it into a joke?” He nearly spits out the next words. “An excuse to fuck? I thought we were friends!”
“Jesus, we are! Who says friends can’t fuck? I’m hot, you’re hot, your dick’s hard…what is your fucking deal?” He can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but there’s something so fucking irritating about the fact that Jared’s pretending. Pretending that there’s not something there between them, like Jensen’s out to get him or something.
Well, Jensen’s not gonna force the fucker…never was. Yeah, he pushed a little, tested the waters to find out if Jared was just blowing smoke up his ass with the whole “not my type” bullshit or not, and Jensen figures now he’s got his answer. It hurts to know that, to have to face facts that as much as he likes--more than likes, godfuckingdamnit--his co-star, best friend, Jared’s halfway to disgusted of even touching Jensen’s dick.
The realization has his voice coming out sharp, words he doesn’t necessarily mean tearing through the air. “Oh, I get it. You’re a goddamn cocktease, Padalecki. Real nice.”
Jared’s mouth falls open, and when he finally laughs, nothing amusing about the sound, Jensen fights back the urge to flinch. Just stares when Jared nods to himself, still smiling that grotesque mockery of his grin, eyes chock-full of bitter disappointment that Jensen doesn’t dare examine too closely. “Well, hell. Thanks for proving my point for me, Jensen. ”
It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out that one, and Jensen’s brows draw together.
Fuck you.
It lingers, burns on his tongue, but won’t come off. Least, not until Jared tosses off a salute and turns on his heel, storming through the door with a snappy, “See ya in a few weeks.”
Something aches in the middle of Jensen’s chest, a quick, sharp burst that has him reaching up, rubbing his breast with a fist. Then, quiet, “Fuck him.”
Jared was hardly the only option he had. He was just the most obvious.
xxx
Take Three.
Jensen considers punching Jared right in the goddamn eye the next morning, but bites back his anger while his oblivious friend bounces on the bed--“We’re like fucking vampires, Jensen. Or hermits, but then I think of crabs and really, that’s not cool. And vampires are sexier than hermits, well, and crabs, and according to TVGuide, we’re totally sexy so--””
“For the love of God.” Jensen finally shoves him away, sitting up and glaring at the back of Jared’s head as his friend picks himself up and off the floor. “Shut the fuck up, Jay! Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”
“Can’t you see I don’t give a damn?” Jared returns cheerfully, but there’s a glint in his eyes now that Jensen recognizes as confusion. Hurt, maybe, probably, but Jensen’s really the one who doesn’t give a damn.
At least, not anymore.
“Go away,” he mutters, sliding back under the blankets and pulling his pillow over his head. “Or I’m calling security.” Jensen tries to resist saying it, but right now he’s feeling too damn childish. Too damn vindictive. “And your shirt’s ridiculous, dude. Take that shit off before you blind somebody.”
“Such a smug prick.” But the words are snarled this time, with none of the friendliness that makes up Jared Padalecki, and Jensen bites back a wince. There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You know I’m leaving today, right?”
It’s harder than he thinks, even with anger and shame and bitter disappointment coursing through his veins. “Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.”
When the sharp slam sounds seconds later, Jensen’s the one who feels slapped.
xxx
Of course, he can’t hide from Jared forever, so he swallows his feelings down the next day and agrees to accompany his friend on whatever dumbass jaunt Jared has planned now. Jensen already nixed the harbor tour, and the aquarium, and if he never eats at the fucking Lookout again, he’ll die a peaceful, happy man.
His stubborness--although he prefers to think of it as self-preservation, as far as the fucking ferry is concerned--makes it a little difficult at first for Jared to come up with anything decent for them to do. Jensen feels a grim sort of satisfaction about that as he trails behind Jared in downtown Vancouver, sunglasses shading his gaze from the tourists and the locals and Jared himself.
They get recognized more and more often as the months go on and Supernatural’s ratings climb higher, but somehow Jared still hasn’t given much thought to trying to hide himself from the public eye. Not that Jensen thinks the guy needs a disguise or anything crazy--they’re not Jack Nicholson, for chrissake--but still. Jared’s nothing short of a giant, and too easily recognizable because of it. So, really, a pair of dark glasses and a hat isn’t asking too much, right? Especially when the alternative is--
“Jensen, Jared? Kristin from E! You remember me from last year’s Upfronts, right?”
Jensen sighs. He doesn’t even bother hiding a grimace when the overly bouncy gossip columnist pushes through the few people separating her from Sam and Dean Winchester, in the flesh. She beams so brightly it reflects off the tint in Jensen’s glasses.
Jared’s all polite, genuine smile and friendly hello, even though Jensen damn well knows his friend and co-star is no more enamored of the woman than Jensen is himself. Then again, not many in the business really are.
He tunes back into the conversation just in time to hear Kristin’s flimsy explanation--“…in town for some Smallville PR, what a coincidence I ran into you both!” and--“…anything on the remaining upcoming episodes you’d like to share with your viewers?” Tinkling laughter that grates on his nerves, “C’mon, guys, throw us a bone!”
He’d be more willing to if he thought the bitch actually gave a damn about the show.
But Jared is Jared, so it isn’t a minute’s time before Jensen’s all but forgotten, cast back into the shadows of the Unlikely to Entertain, while the eager reporter interviews his co-star and appears to hang onto his every word.
“Can’t really give anything out, sorry,” Jared’s saying now, true regret coloring his voice, and Jensen snickers into a fist. He knows better than anyone how Eric takes Jared aside time and time again, all but threatening to remove his friend’s head if Jared opens his damn mouth one more time to the wrong person. Jared’s enthusiasm for the show is something everyone appreciates, until it winds up in a spoiler blurb in Entertainment Weekly, or even worse, Watch With Kristin.
Apparently realizing she’s getting nowhere fast, Kristin finally turns toward Jensen.
Jared nudges Jensen in the ribs, and Jensen hisses out a breath. Rubs the sore spot and throws a glance at his friend, catching Jared’s warning frown. I get it, Jay, I get it. I can be nice…fucker.
xxx
Next day, he comes prepared. Drags Jared out of the hotel and onto the same downtown street, haphazardly sipping from the bottle of Jim Beam he bought at a brewery along the way. Jared’s been giving him weird looks on and off throughout the day, but Jensen hardly cares. The loopy-warm sensation is more than a little pleasant, and soon he’s smiling at everyone who walks past. Sliding his glasses down his nose to better get a look when a co-ed swishes past, blonde hair streaming over her shoulders and flirty grin curving her lips when Jensen lifts his brows.
Jared laughs, but Jensen imagines a strain to it. Good. Serves the jackass right…he doesn’t want me, there are plenty of people who damn well do.
They’re turning the corner onto Dunsmuir when Jared slows, lets out a groan. Grabs hold of Jensen’s arm and squeezes in comic alarm. “Aw, shit, don’t look now, but--”
Jensen’s already rubbing his hands together in anticipation, feeling loose and uninhibited. Fucking good. “Kristin Veitch! In the flesh!” he calls out in an exaggerated drawl, watching with satisfaction as the reporter turns their way.
“Dude, what the hell are you--”
“Jared! Jensen!” Kristin sidles up to them, eyes skimming over the open whiskey in Jensen’s hand. She laughs. “Starting early, huh?”
Jensen slings an arm around her shoulders, leans close. “We’re friends, right, Kristin?”
“Of course!”
“Jensen.” Jared sounds more than a little confused. And worried.
Jensen ignores him. Rests both hands on Kristin’s shoulders and looks down deep into her eyes, voice gone serious. “Good. Because I got somethin’ I wanna say.”
Kristin’s eyes flare with surprise, then excitement. “Wonderful! Just let me find us a quieter place to talk, and you can tell me anything you want about the show…that won’t get you in trouble of course,” she tags on like an afterthought.
“Fuck Supernatural.” Jensen blows a raspberry, waves a hand, pulling her in next to him. “We have more interesting things to discuss than that, right, Kristin?”
“We do?” Kristin says at the same time Jared barks, “You do?”
“Yeah, probably.” Jensen shifts on his feet, gesturing toward himself. “C’mon, ask me anything.”
xxx
After an hour of finding an appropriate place to “chat”, Kristin’s delighted, and Jared looks ready to chew someone’s head off. Jensen, however is feeling fiiiine. Maybe for the first time in a long while.
“Man, fuck Jessica Simpson up her tight ass. And I mean that literally. Girl’s a tightass, least she was back then. And you can print that.” Jensen takes another sip, shrugs his shoulders while Jared’s mouth hangs wide open. “Eh, anyway, now I hear she’ll go elbows up for anyone on a dime--”
“Jensen!” Jared finally hisses, slanting a forced apologetic smile toward Kristin and dragging Jensen away.
“Hey, hey, watch the merchandise, Tonto!”
xxx
“Oh yeah, Joanna was hot.”
Jared drops his head into his hands, and everyone else waits with bated breath. Jensen twiddles his thumbs, all but whistling a tune until he realizes all eyes are still on him. Even Jared’s, although his best friend looks a little bit terrified as to what might come out next.
Oh Jay, you got no idea.
“Anything else?” Kristin prompts politely, eyes wide and voice recorder at the ready.
“No, really, that’s pretty much it.” Jensen slips his hands into his pockets, relishing Jared’s sigh relief as his co-star turns to shoo the reporter away under the guise of “thanks a lot, ma’am. We really appreciate your interest”.
Jensen turns toward a group of college-age guys, all trying to look as bored as possible and yet staying close to the action. “Yeah, Joanna…she’s got a big mouth but…can’t really complain when that’s what I liked about her, if ya catch my drift.” Quick wink, and the guys laugh amongst themselves. Kristin turns back around, looking scandalized, but avidly interested, as well.
“Oh, for the love of.” Suddenly Jared’s there, grabbing him by the arm, jerking Jensen back. “What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Hey, jus’ telling it like it is. They all do it.” Sure, it’s spiteful to point out, but he no longer gives a damn. Just spreads his arms wide, sloshing his drink over the rim and onto his feet. He sends Jared a solemn glare. “Damn it! Now look what you’ve done.”
xxx
The best thing about repeating the same day over and over, Jensen finds out soon enough, is that there really are no repercussions. He drinks himself into a stupor one night without a hangover in sight the next morning. Gets into a fight with the homophobic hotel concierge and blackens the asswipe’s eye, laughing off his threats of legal action. Fucks a pretty little barmaid, a struggling actress--and aren’t they all--in a dirty alley after promising to talk to his agent about representation. Course, he walks right by her the next day and she barely gives him a second glance.
Each of these times, Jared’s nowhere in sight. Jensen’s not sure if he’s avoiding his friend because he’s still embarrassed, hurt, pissed about Jared’s rejection, or if Jared’s presence somehow keeps him from actually having a good time.
Yeah, sure, keep on lying to yourself, man. Truth is, you can’t stand to look at him. Not when you know he’d rather let some random-ass guest star fuck his mouth than hook up with you.
Even when Jared’s not around, he’s still on Jensen’s mind. And Jensen’s a little worried about the lengths he would have to take to make it any other way.
He’s half-stoned off a bag of pretty damn decent weed he bought from some guy downtown when Jared barges into his hotel room without bothering to announce himself. Jensen has the faraway thought that maybe he shouldn’t have given Jared a key, but he’s too damn pleased to see his friend.
“J-money!” he calls out from his upside-down spot on the bed, waving enthusiastically. “Oh my god, it’s Jared Padalecki!”
Jared huffs out a breath, expression tight and controlled like Sam Winchester on a bad day. “Are you on drugs?”
Jensen thinks for a second. Beams. “Yes!”
Obviously not expecting so direct an admission, Jared’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he blurts out, “Why?”
“Why not?” Jensen shrugs, shimmying up the mattress and onto his knees. He holds the burning joint toward Jared’s appalled face, wiggling his brows as lazy warmth fills his body. “C’mon, man. I don’t have cooties. Got my shot ‘n everything.”
“Drugs are bad,” Jared says absently, staring at Jensen’s glassy, bloodshot eyes--Jensen knows they are because he spent about twenty minutes in the bathroom trying to put his contacts in backward--and then Jared blinks, seems to come to. “Jensen!”
Jensen cringes, jumps up and slaps a warning hand across Jared’s mouth. “Shh! You’ll wake them up!”
“Wake who up?”
Jared’s sounding pissed, but Jensen barely notices. “The bunnies!” he explains, rolling his eyes because, really, Jared’s kind of an idiot, apparently.
“The…bunnies.”
“Dust bunnies. Under my bed.” Jensen leans in close, smacking his lips when he catches a whiff of Jared’s cologne. “They live there. Whoa. You smell like candy.” Jensen’s tongue comes out, tracing the line of Jared’s jugular.
At this, Jared about jumps ten feet to get across the room. Jensen stares after him, eyes and lips hungry, but Jared’s red-faced and won’t meet his gaze. “You’re, uh, gonna die of smoke inhalation if you don’t crack a freaking window in here.”
For the first time, he notices the blue-gray wisps circling his head. “Huh. Weird.”
Maybe there was something else in that weed after all.
But that’s hardly important now--not when Jared’s standing there looking and smelling and tasting like the best treat Jensen’s never had and, when he says as much out loud, Jared squirms and shoots him an incredulous look.
“What is wrong with you?” But his tone isn’t mad so much as…embarrassed? Surprised, maybe?
“I wanna fuck you,” Jensen says. “And I think maybe I love you, even though you’re a total bitch sometimes. But mostly, I wanna fuck you.”
“Oh my god.”
Taking in Jared’s wide eyes, Jensen inhales another hit and walks over. “I saw you sucking Jonathon’s dick that day. Can’t stop thinkin’ about it, you know? Your pretty little mouth, wrapped tight around my cock.” A delicious shiver races up his spine that has nothing to do with illegal cannabis.
“You…I…” He’s got Jared’s attention now, as much good as it does him since Jared still won’t even look his way. “Jensen, I really think you need to lay off the pot, pal.”
Just that quick, Jensen’s strung-out temper comes raging and boiling up through hazy satisfaction. “And I think you need to get the fuck outta here, if looking at me disgusts you that much, Jared.”
“Jensen--”
He turns around and locks himself in the bathroom, puffing away and ignoring Jared’s voice until it’s gone again, leaving him in blessed, stoned silence.
xxx
He doesn’t even pretend to wake up the next day, having remembered everything with painful, stark clarity. Just lets Jared push him and pull him until the overgrown asshole gets a clue and finally leaves with a sigh.
xxx
By the time he agrees to go out with Jared again, he’s prepared ahead of time. Knows exactly what he’s gonna say, and do, and when they walk into the bar and see Mike and Tom waving enthusiastically from the back corner, he pats Jared on the chest. Offers him a vague smile. “Go on ahead, I’m just gonna grab a drink.”
Jared smiles, all too willing to trust the Jensen he thinks he knows, the Jensen untouched by days, weeks, of the same old humilation and despair--what, he’s an actor. He can be as dramatic as he fucking wants to be. Jared nods, walks over to their friends, already starting a lively conversation Jensen feels only a fleeting pang of regret over missing.
Because he’s already caught sight of a coquettish brunette across the room, tall and long-legged and looking most definitely like she wouldn’t be against sucking Jensen Ackles’ dick in the bathroom.
He doesn’t think about the beauty mark on her cheek, or the way his thumb unconsciously caresses it, circles it, sending grateful thoughts of yes, oh thank god, finally running through his mind. He just clenches his hand in thick, dark hair, closes his eyes and doesn’t imagine another mouth entirely.
When he gets back to the table, his cheeks are hot, flushed with orgasm, hair mussed. He’s got a grin on his face and a gleam in his eye. Tom’s the first to notice, falling silent as Mike and Jared continue carrying on about whatever they’d been discussing before Jensen had shown up.
Jared eventually looks up, sees Jensen, starts to smile and ask “What took you so--” He trails off as Jensen slides into the booth next to him, long fingers curling tight around a mug of beer.
“Jesus, Jensen. Who’d you have to fuck to get a drink in this place?” Mike cracks, but the joke falls flat at the look on Jared’s face. No one else seems to notice, except maybe for Tom who’s always been more aware of Jared than Jensen deems necessary.
Jared’s not looking at him, but he manages a smile. “Was she cute?”
The same old frustration rises up to choke him, and Jensen feels a little like rattling the cage. “What makes you think it was a she?” he tosses out before he can think better of it, can remember the other two pairs of interested eyes and ears. But Jared’s head snaps up, gaze locking to Jensen’s, and he wonders if he’s imagining the bit of jealousy darkening that easy gaze.
When Jared starts laughing a minute later, clapping Jensen on the shoulder like a proud papa or some such shit, he figures it was all wishful thinking after all.
“Gotta flight to catch,” Jared says a little later, and Jensen politely excuses himself. Walks outside and calls a cab to take him back to the hotel.
xxx
Things just get worse.
Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever really seen Jared truly angry. Never for real, and certainly not at him, anyway, but there’s no mistaking that flare of nostrils, wide-blown pupils and pressed-tight lips. He sees it almost every day on set, directed at Dean or John or whatever guest-star of the week is unlucky enough to be on the receiving end. And he’s pretty damn sure what’s coming next:
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Oh, yeah. There it is. Slap on a hoodie or two and call him Sam Winchester.
“Whassit look like?” Jensen slurs, arm wrapped tight around the the neck of the blonde girl whose face he can barely remember and whose name he certainly never bothered to find out. He slides a cheerful grin to his left, sees the dark-haired pretty boy from his first few nights at this particular club. Looks back at Jared and beams. “Fan service, friend-of-mine. Thought about what you said, and figured I’d give it a try…or two.” He wiggles his brows, making everyone laugh…but Jared.
Something hot flashes through his friend’s eyes, but just as quickly it’s replaced by something Jensen doesn’t really want to label as pity. Not that he’d let that stop him, doesn’t let it mean a damn--not like Jared ever knew what he was missing anyway.
“So, I guess you’re not coming to see me off.” Jared's tone's infinitely polite, and cold as a stranger’s.
What’s-her-face is licking a warm stripe up the side of Jensen’s neck now, fruity lipgloss a slick-slide on flesh, and he tilts his head and tries not to think about how he doesn’t even fucking like cherries. “Guess not. But you know, call me when you get in and all.”
“Sure thing.” Jared’s eyes flicker back and forth as the guy slides closer, reaches down and cups Jensen through the front of his pants. “Have fun, Jensen.”
“Plan to,” he calls out to Jared’s already retreating back, but now the girl’s tongue feels slimy and the guy’s hands are clammy and stifling. Once Jared’s out of sight, he pushes them away, stumbling back. When they try to latch back on, he slaps at them blindly. “Get the fuck off of me.”
“Asshole,” he hears the girl hiss, feeling along the wall for the exit. Suddenly everything’s spinning too fast, everything’s too bright, and he’s pretty damn sure he’s about to throw up his dinner. Meager as it was.
He barely makes it outside, the fresh air settling his stomach somewhat as he leans back, sliding down the wall with his head in his hands.
“Jensen, jesus christ, what…” Concern etches Jared’s voice, and then Jensen’s being lifted carefully to his feet. Cool fingers trace his face, holding his chin and forcing him to look up and meet Jared’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Jensen blinks slowly, wanting to sob like a little fucking girl as it all finally clicks into place. “What’re you doin’ here? Thought…” Something in his stomach bubbles up again, and he clutches Jared’s arm. “Thought you left.”
“I came back to yell at you some more. You’re acting like a real prick, you know that?” But Jared’s tone holds little to no heat, and Jensen groans. Leans forward as another wave of nausea builds and he can’t help thinking, If I never throw up in front of you again, it’ll be too fucking soon.
“Sorry,” he gets out around a gasp a few minutes later, rubbing at his mouth like it’ll make the bitter taste go away. “Guess I drank too much.”
“Guess so.” Jared sounds tired now, and worried. His voice turns soft and pleading, pulling at something down deep in Jensen’s bones. “Jen…talk to me, man. What’s going on? You never act like this.”
He has to laugh at that, considering he’s made it his life mission as of late to turn into the biggest, most unrepentant jackass the world’s ever seen. And for what? Because Jared fucking Padalecki doesn’t find him worthy?
Hell, Jensen hardly finds himself worthy anymore.
But all he says is, “Bad day.”
A beat of silence, and then Jared sighs. Starts digging around in his pocket. “Come on, let’s get you home and to bed.”
“Sure thing, Ma Padalecki,” Jensen jokes, but gratefully accepts the stick of gum Jared holds out to him.
Jared’s warm laugh is like a balm, and Jensen lets his friend put an arm around him. Lets Jared lead him out to where his car’s parked in haphazard anger, and Jensen can just imagine the scene that’d taken place before.
“Can’t believe you came back.” He doesn’t really mean for Jared to hear it. But Jared does all the same, and those big hands squeeze his shoulder and have Jensen blinking back tears he hasn’t cried since he can’t even remember when.
This time, Jared’s sigh holds more than resignation. To Jensen it seems like relief, frustration, love…all wrapped up in a huff of warm breath. “I’ll always come back for you, man,” Jared says, just short of a whisper, and Jensen smiles.
“Don’t get all sappy on me.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
“S’more like it.”
There’s a smile in Jared’s voice as he shoves Jensen playfully toward the passenger side. “Get in the car, Jensen.”
“Where’re we going?” he thinks to ask, not that it matters. As long as Jared’s there, as long it’s the two of them…hell, Jared’s not the only sappy motherfucker in this relationship.
Jared ignores the question in favor of, “You know you talk to yourself when you’re wasted?”
Jensen blinks. “I do?” He feels like maybe that should worry him, but he can’t quite get a handle right now on why. “Huh. What do I say? Anything good?”
Jared’s laugh is strangled, and he turns the wheel a little too hard. “Sometimes, I guess. Mostly you just, um, tell me how pretty I am and how you want me to…” He cuts himself off, biting down so hard on his lip that Jensen sees white at the corner of his mouth.
He’s momentarily fascinated. “Want you to what?”
“Never mind. Forget it, I shouldn’t bring it up now.” Jared’s talking too fast, cheeks two flags of color, lit up by the reflecting tail lights from the car in front of them. It makes Jensen feel hot, possessive, almost stupidly protective as he turns in his seat and licks his lips.
“Bring it up,” he murmurs, voice low, challenging. He catches Jared’s wary look. “C’mon, Jay…I dare you.”
“Nah, man. It’s no big deal.”
Jensen’s teeth flash. “Triple-dog dare you.”
“When’d you get so damn…” Jared sputters.
“Stubborn?” He leans closer, lets his hand hover for a few seconds over Jared’s knee. Gives his friend plenty of time to pull away, warn him off. When Jared just swallows, throat working, Jensen drops his hand and squeezes. “When I figured out what I wanted.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?” Jared’s tone turns a bit belligerent, but Jensen thinks he spies something like hope coloring Jared’s gaze. And wishful thinking or not, he doesn’t give a damn.
Not anymore.
“Take a wild guess.” He slides his hand up, feels just the barest hint of Jared’s erection, smirks. “Well. Looks like I wasn’t wrong.”
Just like that, Jared seems to deflate right before his eyes. He pulls over quickly, switching off the ignition and catapulting them into darkness. Jensen blinks a few times, makes out Jared’s profile in the dim moonlight. His best friend is watching him, and yes, there’s definitely hope there. But there’s also the same fear Jensen’s glimpsed plenty of times before and never knew to put a name to.
Now he does, and he still isn’t sure how to take it away.
“Jensen.” Jared’s voice comes out whisper-soft, thrumming in the air between them, and Jensen feels suddenly shy. He holds Jared’s gaze, refusing to back down until he gets an answer. “I don’t…I’m not sure this is the best idea.”
Jared’s more than a little hesitant, confused, and it’s the perfect opportunity for Jensen to take advantage. Push the situation to his liking, make Jared see just how good--great--an idea it really is.
Then he catches Jared’s worried gaze, and sits back. Closes his eyes. “Yeah, it’s probably not.”
Part 1 | Part 3