The Play Nice Proviso: Four
Hold my hand, don’t let me fall
Jared Tristan Padalecki was made of Awesome.
He had a wonderful family, the best dogs in the world, a hit TV show, a personal candy shopper at his beck and call (all right, so she was a PA with a crush on him, not that he took advantage; no way, she wanted to go out of her way to get him candy), amazing, crazy friends and a hot girl. Not necessarily in that order though; Sandy was small but she could totally kick his ass.
So it niggled at him; it annoyed and irritated him; it ate away at him that Jensen Ackles did not appreciate the awesome. Did not acknowledge the awesome. Didn’t even give it a passing glance. Instead he ridiculed it. Scorned it. Sought to disprove its very existence. He was the prissiest, pissiest little bitch that Jared had ever worked with and Jared had worked with Chad Michael Murray.
And he and Chad had become best friends.
And he and Jensen were pretending to be best friends.
Stupid Network execs and their stupid Play Nice Proviso.
And the funny thing was, despite all the shit that Jensen dished out to him (and yeah, all right, he dished right back) on an almost daily basis, Jared was still kind of in awe of the man. He admired him; admired his skills as an actor and his oh-so-natural talent. Jared watched Supernatural - he never missed an episode - and watching Jensen become Dean sometimes left him breathless; the transition was that seamless, that effortless. Sure, Jared slipped into Sam’s skin with ease as well, but it always required a little something extra on Jared’s part, some force of will. It wasn’t like that with Jensen; it was as if he was Dean. And yeah, so maybe Jared had a healthy dose of hero-worship for Dean Winchester. Just like Sam in so many ways.
And there was something about the way Jensen called him (well, Sam) Sammy. It gave Jared the chills... in a really, really good way. Christ. How messed up was that?
Sometimes, Jared found himself disengaging from reality when he watched the show, as if that wasn’t really him on the screen. Sometimes, it sent shivers ricocheting all over his body watching Dean and Sam interact, to see that chemistry everyone raved about in action. Because Jared had never had that kind of chemistry with anyone; never had that kind of connection with anyone, not in real life and never on screen: not Sandy, not Chad, not even his siblings or other friends and yet, crazy as it sounded, he felt a connection shimmering between him and Jensen; just there. And the weird thing was that when they were filming, it didn’t really register - not to him anyway - but when he watched them on screen together, it was like a revelation. To this day, he couldn’t get that scene from All Hell Breaks Loose out of his mind. Dean, torn apart by Sam dying in his arms; Jensen looking as if not only his heart had broken but his soul had been wrenched from his body. And yeah, Jared knew better than anyone that it was all make-believe but sometimes it was just too damn difficult to separate Dean and Jensen in his mind. Perhaps he mused, it was because he wanted what Sam had: Jensen. Or Dean. Whatever. See? Messed up.
No wonder the fans were writing all that Wincest shit. It made a lot more sense to Jared than he would ever admit out loud and he was afraid it was messing with his mind. Damn Chad for making him aware of that fucked up fan-fiction in the first place.
If he didn’t know better, he would say he had a huge man-crush on Dean Winchester. But he did know better, he thought. Dean was fictional, Jensen was real, and Jensen hated him.
He just wished that his take-home message of the end of every other day had been something other than: Jensen Ackles has the most amazing smile in the whole fucking world.
And it had never - not once - been directed at him: Jared. Sam, yes. Jared, no. Unless they were playing nice in the public eye, in which case, it didn’t count. So yeah, maybe he was a little jealous of his on-screen alter ego too.
Jared’s life had never been as complicated as it had become since Jensen Ackles had walked into it.
Funny how the thought of Jensen had barely solidified in his mind before the man strolled in the front door. The dogs were off to greet him like a shot. Jared stayed in the kitchen and tried to ignore the twisting of his stomach; why he was nervous to see his housemate again after all these months was a mystery he didn’t want to solve, he thought as he finished his pudding cup. But then he pulled up short as all thought processes stuttered and ground to a halt when he found himself face to face with his pain-in-the-ass co-star, who walked into the kitchen looking relaxed, refreshed (were his eyes somehow greener?) and fucking gorgeous.
Goddamn Jensen Ackles. Too pretty for his own good. Pretty face, pretty freckles, pretty eyes, pretty eyelashes, just a pretty, pretty package deal that made Jared feel like an awkward and gangly thirteen year old whose voice had yet to break.
And even though Jared had gotten some of his mojo back over the summer, he felt... inadequate. He had been working out; where he had been lanky and almost too tall before, now he had filled out nicely, if the mirror at his gym and the looks he had been getting from women anywhere in his vicinity were anything to go by. Give him some time and he would be ripped. If he had been hot before, now he really was smokin’ hot, he thought, except when he was comparing himself to his co-star - which he tried not to do... much. Because when he did, like at that very moment, all his inadequacies overwhelmed him and it got harder to breathe.
And as if that weren’t enough of a blow to Jared’s psyche, not to mention his pride, Jensen was wearing glasses, the prescription kind, not the sun-protection kind.
And holy shit, on top of looking amazingly hot, he now also somehow managed to look freaking adorable. Jared had to harshly stymie the urge to smush Jensen’s cheeks together and plant a loud, smacking kiss on his nose, he looked that freaking cute and - hold the phone - when in hell had he ever wanted to do that to a dude?
Jesus.
Jared slammed a hand to his forehead as if checking for a fever. Damn Texan sun. Or no; damn Vancouver weather diminishing his resistance to the damn Texan heat. Heatstroke. That had to be it. It was just a delayed reaction, is all.
Or perhaps it was jet leg.
Or maybe they put some weird ass preservatives in that pudding.
“Padalecki,” his co-star growled in what was supposed to pass as a greeting, his face set in that permanent grimace he had whenever Jared was in the vicinity. Seriously, if Jared hadn’t had first-hand experience of the man’s wit while they had done the convention circuit, he would have sworn Jensen Ackles had somehow been shafted when God had been handing out senses of humor.
“Ackles,” Jared responded automatically.
“Is that my pudding cup?” Jared looked down at the empty cup in his hand. It was Jensen’s actually, he had taken it off his shelf in the fridge. Jensen had had his assistant stock the fridge for him prior to his arrival; Jared hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“So what if it is?”
“What have I told you about eating my food?”
“It’s not like I’m not going to replace it.”
“We established and demarcated shelves for a reason: you are a bottomless pit and will eat me out of house and home otherwise.”
“It’s one pudding cup.”
“It starts with one pudding cup. You didn’t get groceries did you?”
“I was gonna replace it, dude. Chill.”
“That’s not the point, Padalecki.”
“It’s a goddamn pudding cup, Ackles!”
And so began their third year together.
As Jensen stormed off to his room, Harley on his heels - because Harley, the traitor, had fallen in big, gay, doggy love with Jensen - Jared slumped into one of the ridiculously uncomfortable kitchen chairs. Sadie put her head on his lap and nuzzled him softly. It was a small touch but it went a long way to calming him down. Jared sighed, the breath coming from somewhere deep inside of him. No one made his blood boil like his co-star. And he hated it. He hated the fact that he went from being a really laid back guy to being an impossible asshole in no time flat when it came to Jensen Ackles. What the hell was it about the guy that had Jared twisted up in all these knots?
His confusion had grown exponentially over the summer when he had discreetly asked around about Jensen. The man actually had a stellar reputation, a few people even going so far as to tout him as one of the nicest guys in Hollywood. So it made no sense that he had hated Jared at first sight. And it had been obvious right from the get-go, too; subtle but apparent nonetheless. Of course later it had been anything but subtle. And now, it looked like it was going to be torturously shoved in his face. He was tired of it, and he still couldn’t fathom the reason behind it. But he wanted to. He wanted to understand. And therein lay the ultimate kicker: he still wanted to be friends. He actually liked the man, despite their ridiculous relationship thus far, and more importantly, he wanted Jensen to like him.
In fact, he resolved right then and there: making Jensen Ackles like Jared Padalecki was going to be his new mission in life.
Starting tomorrow, of course, seeing as how Jensen was still pouting over a pudding cup.
An entire two months later, Jensen was still pouting. Not over pudding, but it may well have been since they fought over the most stupid things imaginable, and Jared had made no headway on his own personal Mission: Impossible, which was why he decided to go out and get hammered with a few of the cast and crew at a local bar; he’d also invited his buddy Jordan to tag along. He had already knocked back a couple of beers when he spied Jensen walking in with Todd Scott, his stunt double. He almost fell off his stool in shock; Jensen never socialized with them. And he looked really buddy-buddy with Todd. What the hell? Sure they had had a long working relationship and the guy took some hits for Jensen, but that didn’t mean they had to turn around and suddenly become joined at the hip.
Admittedly, he was being unreasonable.
It was just that he had wanted to be the one who got Jensen to come to these things. He wanted to be the guy that bought him a round. God, why couldn’t Jensen just be normal with him? Jesus, Jared, he thought to himself, upon hearing his own damn internal monologue, needy much? Todd saw him before Jensen did. He walked over tugging Jensen along by the sleeve of his jacket.
It actually took a concerted effort for Jared to keep the carefree smile plastered on his face.
“Padalecki.”
“Ackles.”
Yeah, they were amazing conversationalists outside of the conventions. Jeez, just having Jensen there - right there, on the barstool next to him - stilted his conversation with everyone else. This past week had been the week from hell. They had hardly spoken, Jensen pointedly ignoring any attempt Jared had made to initiate a conversation, and he had hardly looked at him unless they were in Sam and Dean’s respective skins. It seriously stalled his plan to make Jensen like him, and it frustrated the hell out of him, and that just led to both of them having their tempers on very short leashes.
And now, it just figured there were so many pretty girls around because suddenly, he got to watch Jensen flirting, and it made Jared want to do something wildly irrational like shoot himself in the head so that he didn’t have to listen or watch as Jensen got his game on.
For now Jensen’s voice deepened to an intonation similar to Dean’s, his shoulders falling back, totally relaxed, legs spreading wide as he sprawled lazily against the bar, pretty much just stopping short of drawling: Come on over, darlin’ and let me take you the fuck home, to any passing female. It annoyed Jared. Purely because he had a girlfriend who was far, far away. Yeah, that was the reason. So many pretty girls and all he could do was look while Jensen got to touch. And get touched. Jared scowled and gulped down the rest of his beer.
“You and the missus have another fight, Jared?” Jordan, the idiot, teased. Jared was usually good-natured about stuff like that but man, not tonight. He stood abruptly and mumbled something about taking a leak. Then he turned and walked right into this burly guy who spilled the beer he was holding all over himself. He apologized and offered to buy the guy another one but suddenly, almost in the blink of an eye it seemed, there were raised voices and stupid, vague accusations of them flirting with some girl and before Jared knew what was happening, this guy and his buddies descended on them, fists flying.
The descent into mayhem was swift.
Jensen, like a fucking ninja, dodged out of the way of the onslaught, so it was Jared and Jordan who got the brunt of it. Jordan had his back though, and Jared noted out of the corner of his eye that Jensen and Todd were tag-teaming to fight off some of the other dudes who had joined the fracas.
And then, like a freaking movie, barstools starting flying and the sound of glass shattering rent the air. He thought Jordan yelled something at him but it was lost in the commotion of a large body crashing over a table, breaking it in two, wood splintering everywhere. Jared lost Jordan in the fray but then saw him near the door, hot on the heels of Jensen and Todd as they exited the bar, pushing their way through the swarm of bodies.
They left him, he suddenly realized. They had just left him there.
The thought was so depressing, a perfect accompaniment to his earlier moroseness, that he didn’t realize he was being grappled by someone bigger than he was (and that was saying something), until he felt his arm being twisted painfully behind his back. He tried to free himself but the Neanderthal who had a grip on him brought down the might of his other hand down on Jared’s arm. Jared felt sure he heard a sickening crack as he reeled from the sharp, piercing pain in his arm as a bone somewhere near his wrist splintered.
Goddamn. Fucking. Shit.
Jared yanked himself away. This dude was getting his ass handed to him. Just as soon as Jared came to, because right now, it would have been the easiest possible thing to just let himself pass out from the pain.
Then he heard the sound of a bottle breaking on the edge of the bar.
Je-sus. Was this guy out of his fucking mind? Who the fuck did shit like this outside of the movies? And it was goddamn Vancouver, Canada not Hicksville, USA! Weren’t Canadians supposed to be nice? Jared shook his head to clear it as the menacing moron approached, broken bottle, jagged edges gleaming in the lights over the bar, brandished in his hand.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a familiar voice sounded right next to him. “Who the fuck does this shit outside of the movies?”
Jared snorted out a laugh over the pain and grinned down at Jensen, who just rolled his eyes at him. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” he griped. “You okay?” His gaze flickered down to Jared’s arm, which he held snugly against his chest. The pain, momentarily forgotten, came rushing back.
“I think he broke my arm, dude.”
Jensen’s face changed almost imperceptibly, his expression turning downright frigid, but really the only difference appeared to be the slight tightening of his mouth at the corners. Jared doubted anyone else would have noticed the change enough to fear it. And as Jensen leveled that cold green glare at the big doofus with the bottle, Jared actually shivered.
He really wouldn’t want to meet this Jensen in a dark alley.
Or maybe he would, came the insane thought right on the heels of the previous one, because this Jensen right here? - was kinda hot. He pushed Jared gently out of the way and took a second to plant his feet while Jared’s attacker refocused on Jensen. The man raised the broken bottle in his hand, but before that slight movement was even fully executed, Jensen - Jensen Ackles, his co-star - leveled a hard, fierce roundhouse freaking flying kick at the huge dude’s head. The moron fell like a ton of bricks. Completely and totally out cold.
There may have been a few seconds there when everyone in the bar - everyone - froze in wonder, all eyes trained on Jensen, who had landed on his feet facing Jared.
Jared blinked as Jensen smirked at him, his eyebrow quirking as if to ask if Jared was impressed by that, and hell yeah, he was. This was so weird to have Jensen so obviously on Jared’s side, for once projecting a united front, finally. Like they should have been from the get-go. Brothers. Friends. Partners.
And not mortal enemies.
Suddenly though, the bottle-dude’s friends, who had now recovered from their shock, swarmed Jensen. Jared had enough of a grip on his faculties to trip one guy and then kick him to keep him down, while he rammed his good fist into another’s jaw. That still left Jensen alone to face four - wait, no - five guys, on his own. Although, why this concerned Jared, he had no idea. It appeared that the odds were stacked in Jensen’s favor because could the man ever fight! He did have ninja moves, or some sort of martial arts training. His strikes were quick, controlled, precise and probably really, really painful to be on the receiving end of. He had already knocked two of them out by the time Jared got his shit together and grabbed the closest dude to him by the scruff of his shirt and ran the dickwad’s shoulder into the bar. Jensen made short work of the last guys. Then he stalked up to Jared and grasped his good arm, all but shoving him through the crowd and out onto the streets.
Within seconds, he had flagged down a cab and was pushing Jared inside, asking to be driven to the closest hospital. Jensen was a fucking superhero and Jared just stared at him in awe.
“What?”
“Dude, you’re officially my hero. You’re like… Jackie Chan!”
“Shut up!”
“You saved my life in there,” Jared found it really difficult to keep the wonder out of his voice. Jensen sighed loudly.
“Are you all right? How’s your arm? Can you tell if it’s badly broken?” His voice was gruff. It sounded kind of sexy and it totally suited his ninja superhero persona.
“It hurts like hell. Thought I was going to pass out,” Jared winced as the pain came flooding back, making him woozy again. He leaned into Jensen’s warm body and if he had been more lucid, he would have marveled at the fact that the other man didn’t push him away. “Where’d Jordan and Todd go?”
“No idea, I lost them outside while I was looking for you. Thought you were right behind us. Then I saw you through the bar window.”
“You came back for me.” More wonder. Jared couldn’t help it. Any more than he could help the big ass grin that split his face.
“If anyone’s gonna lay the smackdown on your scrawny ass, it’s gonna be me.”
“You secretly love me, Jennybean! You do! I knew it.”
“Shut the fuck up, Padalecki! This is why people keep getting the wrong idea about us. Padalecki? Jay? Shit. Dude! Step on it. This is an emergency!” It was the last thing Jared heard before he blacked out.
The last thing he felt was Jensen’s arm wrapping tightly around his shoulders, pulling him into the comforting warmth of his body.
And the last thought he had was: Jay?
The first thing Jared realized when he came to was that his right arm was in a cast from palm to elbow.
The second thing he realized was that his grumpy co-star was slumped over in the chair next to his bed. Arms crossed, chin to chest, snoring softly; fast asleep.
Jared glanced over at the digital clock on the wall. It said 4:07 a.m. Well, hell. Jensen Ackles had stayed by his bed. Jensen Ackles had spent the night, sitting at Jared Padalecki’s bedside. Probably uncomfortable as all get out, but he had stayed.
Jared, still somewhat groggy form the anesthetics, took the rare opportunity to study the other man at his leisure. He looked exhausted and he was going to wake up hurting if he didn’t loosen up his arms, but Jared didn’t want to wake him just yet. Instead, his eyes roamed over the slumbering form of the man beside him; from the long legs, with their slight bow, stretched out in front of him, up past his broad chest where his strong arms rested (and Jensen had really nice forearms, dusted with blonde hair and his skin looked kind of soft too, Jared thought inanely), before finally coming to rest on his face.
Jensen’s face, Jared guiltily admitted to himself, was fascinating.
And pretty.
In a manly sort of way, he reckoned.
From his soft-looking, full lips (the guy had a mouth that promised sin, really), to the classically cut jaw (hell, even his stubble was pretty), to the ridiculously lush eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks. Jared had this sudden, asinine urge to kiss those eyelashes, and that mere thought, and the resultant image it sparked in his mind, made his dick twitch in interest.
Holy. Shit.
He shot a stunned glance at the cast on his arm. What the fuck had been in the drugs they had given him?
They ended up getting a few days off so that he could relax a little and get some rest after his injury. It also gave the writers a little time to incorporate the cast on his arm into the storyline. Eric had been sympathetic though none too pleased with the delay but luckily, considering Sam and Dean were modern day ghost-busters after all, it hadn’t taken much for it to be written into the script. It just meant that he would need to go without the cast for a couple of days of shooting, which would hurt like hell, but Jared supposed he could take it. It hadn’t been a bad break really, more like a bad fracture.
It still hurt though, but Jared was usually too drugged up to notice. What he did notice, however, was how nice his co-star was being to him, and for once, this nice had nothing to do with the Proviso in their contracts, and everything to do with Jensen’s genuine compassion for people in trouble, whether they were friend or foe. The realization warmed Jared and endeared his co-star to him just that much more.
Jensen took care of him those first couple of days, helping him with anything he needed help with, although he still wasn’t very talkative. Then again, Jared talked enough for the both of them, so really if he sometimes took extra advantage and laid the helplessness on a little thick, well, he just justified it as progress in his mission.
That Saturday was lazy and relaxing and ended with the two of them actually chilling out together on the couch in the living room after a lunch that Jensen had cooked. For both of them. Jared was so thrilled with that development, he was almost giddy and not hiding it too well.
Hopefully, Jensen would think he was still hopped up on his pain medication. This was cool though, this was hanging out.
“Whad'ya wanna watch?” Jared asked, balancing the remote on his thigh as he the TV Guide channel scrolled through on the screen. They had already established a TV schedule to avoid arguments, and on alternate Saturdays, custody of the remote control was Jared’s.
“Whatever. Hey!” Jensen leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “Talladega Nights, man!”
“Shake and bake, baby! Not for another couple of hours though, they’re showing something called Stardust.”
“Well, there’s nothing better on and that episode of Dirty Jobs is a repeat.”
“Stardust it is.”
“This looks like a chick flick.”
“How bad could it be? Bobby De Niro’s in it.”
Two hours later, and he still had a stupid smile on his face. And a cross-dressing, gay De Niro aside, that had most definitely been a chick flick, but kind of cool like The Princess Bride for a new generation.
“I wish I could land a role like that,” Jared said without thinking.
“Yeah, you already like pink and I’m pretty sure we can get a couple of dresses in your size,” Jensen chuckled, and Jared thoughtlessly swatted him on the chest with his good hand. He froze for a split second, wondering if Jensen would take offense, but it apparently the contact hadn’t even registered.
“Jackass. I meant that kind of romantic, quirky hero role, you know? No one looks at me and thinks that. They think horror and guts and gore.”
“Or they think Olsen twins.”
“Shut up!”
“What? It’s not for lack of opportunity. You get scripts for horror flicks for the same reason I do: Supernatural. We’re type-cast; broken record. But you’ve had some good chances in the past. It’s your own damn fault you blew ‘em.” There was accusation in Jensen’s tone and Jared looked at him questioningly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dude, you pretty much got offered the lead on Firefly.”
“How do you know that?”
“I had a hard-on for that role, man, and you got it on a silver platter and you turned it down.”
“Think about it, Jensen, it wasn’t for me. Nathan Fillion was awesome. Much as I hate to admit it. You would have been good though.”
“Yeah, which is exactly my point. It was still a dumbass move on your part.”
“I just knew I wasn’t good enough for it.”
“Not good enough?” Jensen looked at him in surprise and Jared looked away before Jensen could see the insecurity in his eyes. “What do you mean, not good enough? Dude, I have always questioned your intelligence on some of the spectacularly bad decisions you’ve made, but not your talent. You’re not lacking in that department. It’s one of the things I ha... er... you’re a natural. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I can’t believe you just said that. I think the meds are messing with my head.”
“I might not like you as a person, but I’m not blind. I watch Supernatural. Also, in case you haven’t noticed, I work with you and yeah, it pains me to admit it but you’re good. And you’ve gotten better.”
Jared was floored. “Thanks, man.”
“Whatever,” Jensen muttered, his face getting redder by the second, “it’s time to shake and bake, Cal Naughton Jr.”
Jared smothered the grin that threatened to overtake his face as they settled in to watch the Will Ferrell movie. “How am I Cal? I’m taller. That makes me Ricky Bobby.”
“No way,” Jensen argued. “That’s me! If you ain’t first, you’re last. And I called it first.” He smirked at Jared. “You can be Jean Girard if you like.”
“Jean Girard, huh?” Jared openly leered at Jensen. “So I if I kiss you at the end of this movie, Jensen - will you taste of America?”
Yeah, he got smacked with a cushion for that but it was totally worth it to see a tiny little smile tug at the corners of his co-star’s mouth.
Somehow, and Jared had no idea how, they had ended up asleep on the couch, not even lying down, but with his good arm on Jensen’s thigh, and Jensen’s head on his shoulder. Jensen stirred to consciousness seconds after Jared.
“Wha...?” Jensen groaned, and Jared felt his pain. Stupid straight-backed couch. Then Jensen apparently noticed exactly how he had fallen asleep and he bolted off the couch as if it was on fire. It might have been his face on fire though, Jared thought inanely, and couldn’t help think how cute he looked with that fierce blush staining his cheeks. Jensen looked everywhere but directly at him. Then he leveled a blistering glare at the offending piece of furniture. “This fucking ridiculous couch! I hate it!” The statement was punctuated by him kicking the couch, stubbing his toe in the process, and getting even grumpier. It was really all kinds of adorable.
Jared shook his head as if to clear off the fog of sleep and agreed with him. “I hate all of it; the couch, kitchen table and those stupid, teeny chairs, all these white walls. I even hate my bedroom. It’s like a padded cell without the padding.”
“I hear ya. If it didn’t rain so goddamn much, I’d sleep out on the porch. Why are we suffering through this?” Jensen directed the exasperated question heavenward. “I mean, we didn’t get any kind of choice here. No, we get fucked with the Play Nice Proviso. And free will took a flying leap with the goddamn Vancouver Abode Addendum. I mean, the Minions might as well call it what it fucking is: the Play House Proviso!” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “That’s it, I’ve had enough. Sometimes, you just wanna chill on the couch, you know?”
“I do know...” Jared agreed enthusiastically, not quite sure where Jensen was taking this but willing to go along just so Jensen would keep talking to him like a regular human being. And all the while trying desperately not to think about the implications of playing house with Jensen.
“I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Huh?”
“To see if we’re allowed to change this shit up. And if we are, then we’re doing this place right. And if we’re not, we go to the mattresses. You in?” Green fire blazed out of Jensen’s eyes and Jared recalled his fighting form from the bar brawl. The Minions didn’t stand a chance if they put up a fight. The man was quoting from The Godfather now. It was on.
“Hell yeah, I’m in.”
Oh man. He was in. He was maybe finally in with Jensen Ackles.
As soon as they got the green light to make whatever changes they wanted, since all their furniture was rented anyway, he and Jensen asked around about furniture stores on set. By some stroke of luck, they found out that Shannon, their make-up artist, had a cousin in design school at UBC who was looking for an interior design project to add to her portfolio. Both of them had immediately agreed to talk to her, since it would make their lives so much easier if they didn’t actually have to do the whole re-decorating thing themselves. Because really, Jared thought, his arm was still out of commission and they were overworked to the point of exhaustion on a pretty much daily basis. They set up a meeting with the designer that very evening.
“Wow,” Alyssa said as soon as she walked in the door.
“Yeah, you see we’re gonna need all the help we can get,” Jensen smiled at her, the charm turned on to a low simmer. Alyssa looked momentarily bedazzled and Jared got a little annoyed. He had a sneaking suspicion that women would actually faint in droves if Jensen were to ever turn on the charm full force, and then he discovered a whole-hearted new appreciation for his own iron-clad constitution.
Well, at least he hoped it was iron-clad; it hadn’t really been put to the test. Yet. He was working on that though.
They gave Alyssa a tour of the place before coming back into the living room. “I see what you mean: this is the very definition of clinical, minimalist design. Not my thing at all. She pulled out a big file from her bag, color swatches and sketches almost falling out as she opened it. “So tell me a little bit about you guys, your backgrounds, your likes and pet peeves, your favorite colors. I’ll have a better idea of the kind of home you’d like to live in based on your personalities. I’ll then send you my design sketches and the quote and you can get back to me. Shannon mentioned that you’ll be taking almost a month-long break for the holidays. I can get my crew in here during that time. They’re all students, but we’re bonded, and I guarantee that you will come back to a home, not just a house.”
“Sounds good to me. Jensen?”
“Yeah. I’m on board.” He smiled at her and pointed out the big bay window. “You see the evening sky, right there?” Alyssa looked out and nodded. “That’s my favorite color. I do like all blues though, but I’m partial to that shade - the sky at dusk.”
Alyssa smiled at him and pulled out some color swatches to show them. “This family of blues? Indigos, gotcha. And what about you Jared?”
And she looked at him. And Jensen looked at him. And all he could think was, he loved the color of Jensen’s eyes. And that might just be his new favorite color.
Then Jensen smirked. “Based on his wardrobe, I’d say his favorite is pink.”
“Shut up, jackass. It’s... it’s green. I like green.”
“Any particular shade of green?”
And Jared couldn’t help himself, his eyes riveted on Jensen, who looked back at him with a puzzled expression. It took Alyssa a few seconds to catch on but she did, and trying to hide a smile, she pulled out a few more color swatches, this time in hues of green that either matched or complemented the green of Jensen’s eyes.
If anyone else felt the temperature in the room skyrocket, seemingly in direct proportion to his embarrassment, nobody mentioned it.
