CW RPS: Take the Sky, For Example (A Canvas of a Billion Suns) (J2, R // 3/6)
Take the Sky, For Example (A Canvas of a Billion Suns)
Full header in MASTER POST.
part two
Jensen wakes up on the third morning of Adrianne's visit to the sound of really suspicious noises coming from the next room. He groans and rolls over, burying his head underneath his pillow. Overall, it's been going well; Adrianne's nice-if a bit high-strung-and Jared is happier than ever, but there's only so much overheard morning sex Jensen can take. The pillow doesn't help much, so he crawls out of bed a moment later. He's exhausted, but he needs to get out of the apartment. Desperate, he pulls on his ratty, paint-stained jeans and a white wifebeater, and grabs Sadie's leash. She woofs encouragement when he clips it onto her collar and practically pulls him out the door.
They run for a good hour, Jensen's worn-out sneakers slapping the pavement in time with Sadie's paws, before the sun starts to bear down on them a little too much. Jensen wipes the sweat from his brow and glances up, guesses from the light and the position of the sun that it's about ten o'clock. "Okay, girl," he pants, dropping to his knees to give Sadie a proper rub behind the ears. "Think it's about time to go back. Hopefully Jared and Adrianne will have stopped bumping uglies by now, huh?"
A passing woman gives Jensen a strange look as he gets back up, but he ignores her and turns for home. They walk back, weaving under trees for shade and taking their sweet time. Jensen pulls Sadie into a run-down little cafe to grab a coffee, and as he waits to pay he pulls out his cell to check the time. The display tells him he has a new voicemail, left about ten minutes earlier.
Jensen. Come straight to my apartment when you get this, it says simply. It's Misha's voice, there's no doubt about that, and he sounds pissed. Jensen runs the rest of the way home.
Sadie beats him there, running so fast and so far ahead that her leash is taut, tugging Jensen after her. The door to their flat is open and she barrels in, barking at Jared, who is leaning against the kitchen counter. Adrianne is standing next to him, dressed only in lingerie. Startled, Jensen averts his eyes and unclips Sadie's lead. "Morning," he says, staring at the floor. "Um, I'll be back in a few minutes. Misha wants to see me-"
"We have a problem," Jared says.
"Huh?"
Jared swallows, so hard it clicks audibly in his throat, and says, "I think Misha saw us."
Jensen straightens up slowly, letting go of Sadie. She rushes into the living room and onto the couch, immediately attacking the squeaking chew toy waiting for her there. Each aggravating high-pitched squeal falls in time with the pounding of Jensen's heart in his ears. "Excuse me?"
Jared shrugs, plainly uncomfortable with the subject. "He, uh. I didn't hear him come to the door, but he definitely said something, and then I heard him going down the stairs. God, Jensen, I'm sorry."
Jensen throws his arms wide in disbelief, demands, "What, did he walk into your bedroom?"
Jared blushes and scratches the back of his neck. He glances at Adrianne as if she'll save him, but she is silent, looking confused and pissed off. "No, we were sort of, um. In here."
"What happened to keeping it on the DL, Jared!" Jensen groans, rushing out. This could cost them the fucking apartment. Misha could go running to Jeff. Oh, fuck. Jensen's going to end up on the streets, selling his body for cash. Fuck fuck fuck why wasn't Jared more careful-
He raps on Misha's door, feigning a casual smile when the door creaks open a moment later and Misha pokes his head out into the hallway. Wordlessly, he ushers Jensen inside and checks the corridor one last time before shutting the door securely behind him; then he whirls on Jensen, flattening himself against the wall. His eyes are huge and bright in the darkness of his apartment. "Jensen, I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he says, guilty-quiet, "but Jared is cheating on you."
Jensen blinks. "Come again?"
Misha grabs fistfuls of dark hair and stalks around his tiny living room, livid. Jensen has never been inside Misha's apartment before, but it's just how he imagined it. Half-finished canvases lean against unpainted walls, and dream catchers and wind chimes hang from the ceiling. There are symbols written on the walls and soothing oceanic sounds emanate from an ancient stereo in the corner. None of the lights are on and the dirty windows don't do much to brighten things up.
Misha clatters around the kitchen, snatching tea bags from a little bowl, his kettle clanking against a row of mugs. "I walked in on Jared this morning," he says, head hung between his bony shoulders like he doesn't want to look at Jensen. "With a girl. I'm so sorry."
Jensen's breath rushes out of him in one big whoosh, because oh. Of course this is the conclusion Misha would jump to. Jensen sort of feels like laughing, but then Misha turns to him and extends a mug of steaming tea, face scrunched up in sympathy, and Jensen opens his mouth and says, "Misha, I've got to tell you something."
"Tea?" Misha says, still holding the cup, but the way he's eyeing Jensen says that he's listening.
Jensen accepts the tea, takes a long sip for bravery, and then: "We lied to get the apartment."
"What?"
Jensen toes the dusty floor. "Jared and I, we're not really a couple," he says. "The girl you saw him with is his girlfriend. She's visiting from San Francisco. He promised me he'd be good, but I guess I shouldn't have believed him, huh?" Jensen smiles, a little shaky, and shrugs. Misha's just staring at him, eyes narrow, so he stumbles onward. "But we. We really like it here, so please don't tell Jeff-"
"I'm not going to tell Jeff," Misha says.
Jensen breaks into a grin, relief coursing through him. He opens his mouth to thank Misha when he hears something shatter above their heads. The muted sound of shouting filters through the ceiling and Jensen winces. He can just about hear Jared's voice, placating, apologising. "Thanks, man," Jensen says, just a fraction too loud, enough to drown out the argument above. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this."
Misha shrugs and sips at his tea. "So you're straight?" he asks, thoughtful, openly curious.
Jensen shakes his head and Misha's lips curl into a smile. He looks like he's about to say something, so Jensen hastens to make things clear. "I got dumped," he explains, staring down at the dregs of his tea. "Had to find a new place to live. It was tough, for a while."
Misha makes a sympathetic noise and Jensen looks up. Misha's expression is understanding and a little pitying, traces of something Jensen can't define-he looks sort of pleased, maybe; hopeful-fading away. He doesn't speak for a long moment and it's not until he quietly says, "I'm sorry," that Jensen begins to feel like he missed something.
-
When Jensen returns upstairs, he finds Jared curled up on the couch with Sadie, looking extremely gloomy. He barely reacts when the door opens, just goes on thumbing Sadie's ears like her bliss will bleed into him. Her tail hits the sofa cushions with every wag and she woofs a lazy hello when Jensen steps inside.
Jensen begins to fix some brunch. With his back to Jared, he asks, "You all right?"
Jared grunts. "Adrianne is staying with a friend tonight. She's leaving tomorrow. Sit down?"
Sandwich abandoned, Jensen collapses down beside Jared, who shoots him a miserable look and says, "I'm really sorry about this morning."
"I take it she gave you hell?"
Jared picks at a loose seam in his threadbare t-shirt. "I never told her, uh, how we got this place. She didn't understand why it was such a big deal that Misha walked in on us, so I told her the truth, and she got really pissed!" He scowls, arms crossed tight over his chest. "She said I should spend more time with my boyfriend and stormed out. Why is she freaking out? She knows it's not true!"
Jensen swallows hard around a lump and says, "Are you guys-?"
Jared shakes his head, tips over a little to bury his face in Sadie's stomach. "Nah, she'll cool down once she realises her argument made no sense," he mutters into the dog's fur. "But she said the weirdest things, like she thought I was actually cheating on her with you- Jesus, how ridiculous is that? She said shit like, 'I knew it!' and, 'You could've at least had the decency to tell me!' What is that?"
Jensen takes deep, slow breaths, because it's definitely his heart that is lodged in his throat. He doesn't want to be talking about this anymore.
"Man." Jared flops back against the cushions and throws an arm over his face. "Today was going to be so fun, too. Did I tell you? When I was walking Sadie the other day, I saw a poster for this tiny local theatre company-they're doing A Midsummer Night's Dream. The auditions are today and I was gonna try out, and we were going to grab dinner afterwards at this really fucking fancy place. This sucks."
"You could still audition," Jensen says softly. He wonders briefly if it's a mistake to push this, but adds, "I'll come with you. We can, uh. We can skip the meal though."
Jared slides a look at him. "You want to come?"
Jensen smiles and jostles Jared's shoulder. "Of course I do, man. What time does it start?"
The answer turns out to be noon, which is only half an hour away. To make matters worse, the auditorium where the auditions are being held is across town. Jared frantically runs a comb through his unruly hair before high-tailing it to Jensen's truck; Jensen follows after leaving Sadie in Jeff's capable hands.
Miraculously, they make it there in time. It's a tiny theatre, not fit for more than thirty or forty people, but it's nice and well-lit, comfortable. Jensen likes the look of it immediately. Jared, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice the people he keeps walking into, no less the decor; he's so nervous that he's sweating through his shirt. He adds his name and contact information to the list and listens wide-eyed as the director takes the stage and explains that all the men are going to receive one monologue to perform, the women another.
"I can't do this," Jared moans after one of the staff hands him his sheet of paper. He's lucky thirteen, reading the same passage of Puck's as half of the hopefuls scattered around the room. "Jensen, I don't even know what half of this means!"
"Jared?"
Jared whirls in the direction of the new voice, his hands still twisted in his hair. "Sandy?"
Jensen turns as well and finds himself face to face-well, face to chest-with Sophia's friend Sandy. She's clutching her speech to her chest and smiling up at Jared like he's the whole world. She gives Jensen a little wave when she notices that he's there too.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she says, bubbly as ever. "You're both auditioning?"
Jared waves his script. "Nope, just me."
"Oh, I see." She reaches over and gives his hand a little squeeze. "Good luck!"
"You too," Jared says, still grinning as she walks away. The instant she's out of earshot, he turns back to Jensen and pumps his fist in the air. "Dude, she digs me so bad. I am a fucking sex god."
Jensen rolls his eyes, ignoring the heat rising up his neck, and snatches the papers out of Jared's hands. He's always been a fan of Shakespeare; A Midsummer Night's Dream was never his favourite, but he knows he can help Jared. "Here, I'll walk you through this," he says, because there are twenty minutes to kill before the auditions are due to actually start.
Jared, back to being nervous, throws up his arms in exasperation. "Of course you know it," he whinges, but he's smiling, and he sits quiet and cooperative as Jensen explains the monologue to the best of his ability. By the time the director calls for silence, Jared has a handle on Puck's attitude and actually knows what the hell he's saying, which Jensen figures will help him out just a tad.
The first twelve guys aren't awful. Jensen doesn't think any of them are particularly spectacular, and when the director finally calls out, "Jared Pada, um-Pada-" he socks Jared in the arm and says, "You're going to nail this, I know it."
Jared just gives him a panicked smile and stands up before his last name can be mangled further. He takes the stage a little stiffly, hunched over like he wants to minimise just how much space he takes up, and gives a shy little wave when the director blinks up at him through a thick fringe of dark hair. He doesn't do anything for a moment, so she cocks an eyebrow and tells him, "Go ahead," and Jared clears his throat and begins.
Jensen watches from the back of the auditorium. Jared is too big to be an ideal Puck, too bulky and solid, but he delivers the lines better than Jensen expects him to. The thought makes Jensen feel a little guilty, but he's so impressed that it soon fades to the back of his mind. By the time Jared is finished, flitting (a little ridiculously) offstage after For I must now to Oberon, the whole auditorium is flatteringly silent, and the director writes something down on her clipboard before she calls the next person up.
With the speech still clenched tight in his fists, Jared bounces to where Jensen is sitting. "How'd I do?" he asks excitedly, beaming at Sandy when she gives him a thumbs-up from across the room.
"Really good, Jared," Jensen says, quiet and honest.
Jared lights up at the praise and tugs Jensen towards the exit, saying, "Hey, what the hell, I think I'll treat you to some grub anyway. For being such a good friend," and then without warning he turns around and hugs Jensen tight; they stand there, framed by the light streaming through the open door, and Jensen thinks on repeat that Jared is just a little tender after the argument with Adrianne, just a little vulnerable, in need of some healthy physical contact, but Jared is always like this. With a sigh, Jensen buries his face in the collar of Jared's shirt and waits it out. Somewhere not so deep down, he doesn't want Jared to stop touching him.
Jared brings him to a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, proclaiming loudly as he steps over the threshold that it's the home to the best food in LA. This immediately gets the attention of the greying lady behind the counter, who bustles out and swats him on the arm with a menu. "Jared Padalecki!" she says, and Jensen somehow gets the impression that Jared might be a regular here. "I haven't seen you in months! What on earth have you been up to? You come in here like clockwork every Tuesday for two years, and then suddenly-poof! You're gone. Did the college boy decide he was too good for us?"
Jared flushes and fidgets; Jensen is desperately fishing for a way to save this situation from getting more awkward when a young man comes out of the back room and says, "Stop pestering him, Ma."
The woman draws back and tuts disapprovingly, but turns back to the cash register. "Fine, Milo," she says. "Interrogate him yourself."
Milo-dark-haired, attractive, probably around Jensen's age-rolls his eyes and leads them to a table. "How've you been, Jared?" he asks. He gives Jensen a polite smile and hands them each a menu. "Ma's right, you know. You vanished on us."
Jared rakes a hand through his hair and shrugs. "I've been real busy," he says, a little haltingly. "And now I'm living across town, so it makes it a little harder to, uh. This is my roommate, Jensen."
"Nice to meet you," Milo says with a nod. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you'll have the usual, Jared. How's Adrianne?"
Jared looks a little overwhelmed. "Oh, um," he says, "she's in town, actually. Leaving tomorrow. I was going to take her here today, but… something came up. So I took my buddy instead!" Jared smiles, wide and probably fake, and gives Jensen a manly clap on the shoulder across the table. It's a little awkward and Milo seems to notice, because he takes Jensen's order really quickly and leaves them alone. Jared visibly relaxes once he's gone and slouches back in the booth with a smile. "So tell me again how awesome I was."
Jensen rolls his eyes but indulges Jared, because he just looks so happy, satisfied, like this morning's fuck-up never happened. Jensen envies his ability to do that, just brush off the disasters and move on. With Jensen, they stick with him, for months, for years, as he rehashes them in his head until they're nothing but horrible, scattered memories.
"You really were great," he says, slipping a smile Milo's way as he drops off their drinks. "You really stood out."
Jared glows. "Thanks, man," he says, flicking at the ridiculous bright pink bendy straw Milo put in his milkshake. "Do you. I mean. You think I'll actually get a part?"
"I think they'd be crazy not to cast you," answers Jensen honestly. Jared beams and Jensen wants so badly to keep going, keep piling up compliment after compliment so that expression never fades from his face; but before Jensen has a chance to say another word, a familiar voice says from behind him, "Hey, Jensen."
Jensen's stomach drops right down to his toes and he stares at his coffee. Jared nudges him, not understanding, so Jensen shoots him a miserable look, braces himself, and turns around. He's greeted by the sight of long blond hair and dark sunglasses, a crooked smile and a guitar slung over one broad shoulder, and thinks, Jensen, fucking get it together. "Steve," he croaks, finally, and feels Jared go still across the table as he puts it together- Jensen has, after all, told him about Steve, about Chris and Steve.
Jensen stares up into Steve's blank face and starts to wish he hadn't left the apartment at all.
Steve takes a sip of his coffee and waits a beat. Then, strangely, he says, "Chris broke it off with me."
Jensen blinks.
Steve shrugs. "I just thought you should know," he says, and he's so mellow and fucking level-headed that Jensen sort of wants to punch him in the face. He was like this right after Jensen found him-them-too, just the same: mild-mannered and calm and rational and fuck him. "He never wanted to hurt you," Steve adds.
Jensen has honestly no idea how to respond to that, so he sits there in stupid, open-mouthed silence until Jared clears his throat and makes a point of reaching across the booth to take Jensen's hand. "Look, man," he says, "Jensen obviously doesn't want to talk to you. And we were in the middle of a conversation, so if you wouldn't mind…"
Steve's eyebrows rocket towards his hairline and he backs up a few steps, holding out the hand that isn't holding his coffee in surrender. "Okay," he says. "Sorry."
The bells over the exit tinkle as the door shuts behind him, but Jensen's gaze never strays from Jared. He's staring outright but Jared doesn't seem to have noticed, intent on the steaming bowl of spaghetti Milo just put in front of him. A tiny smile is dancing around his mouth, though, giving him away. Jensen sits back in his seat and tells him, "You're incredible, you know that?"
Jared rolls his shoulders in a shrug, but his face reddens a little. He still doesn't look up from his pasta. "That's what they tell me," he says.
-
Jensen has a nine-thirty class he has to teach on Wednesdays, and it's the bane of his existence. It's all pretentious community college students only a few years younger than he is, and every single one of them thinks they know far more about the art world than Jensen does. When Jensen instructs them to do four five-minute sketches over the next twenty minutes, the conservative girl at the back begins whining about the (fantastically patient) nude model and the boys at the front forgo their work to leer.
Jensen resists the urge to smash his face against his desk, instead taking a long slug of his scalding hot coffee and engrossing himself in paperwork. He's been on edge since the run-in with Steve; thrown off-balance with no idea what to make of much of anything anymore. He half-expects Chris to burst in on one of his classes with apologies and chocolate and flowers, but he also feels like there's something missing, something that he hasn't allowed himself to see-and it has nothing to do with Chris.
Jensen groans and tries to get himself back on track. One of his most annoying students has asked for a recommendation. Before he has to begin the gruelling process of deciding whether to write it or not, Sophia bustles in and sits down beside him.
"Hey, Jen," she whispers. "I didn't know Katie was modelling today."
"Yep," Jensen says, staring down at his papers.
Sophia fidgets. "I ran into Danneel this morning."
Jensen looks up. Sophia's face is pink, like she's angry or embarrassed or both, and she shrugs and looks at her feet under Jensen's scrutiny. She's obviously in the mood to share, and while Jensen should really be walking around and critiquing his students' work, gossip appeals to him much more. So he stands, puts a hand on Sophia's shoulder, and says, "Do you want to take a five-minute break with me, Miss Bush?"
She smiles at him gratefully and allows him to steer her out the door. He sits her down on a bench outside and offers her the remains of his coffee, which she slurps up with absolutely zero finesse before opening her mouth and just talking.
"My class had just finished," Sophia says, hands wrapped tight around the styrofoam cup. "I was waiting with my students outside, and she was late to pick Dash up. So he and I were sitting out here, just chatting-and then she shows up and she says, 'Dashel Xavier,' all commanding, and is that really his middle name? God, that woman is fucking ridiculous."
"I think it's his great-uncle's name or something," Jensen puts in.
Sophia steamrolls right over it. "Anyway. She called him over and then she gave me this really icy stare, you know, like I was the one who fucked everything up. Jesus Christ."
Jensen grabs her hands, carefully manoeuvring the coffee cup out of her crushing grip, and rubs his thumbs along her knuckles until she quiets. "Soph," he says, finally, staring down at her pale palms, "you never told me what happened between you and Danneel. I'm sort of lost here."
Sophia deflates. "Oh," she says softly. "We, uh. You know Gabe's birthday party a few months ago? Well, um. Afterwards, I dunno. We were both pretty drunk, and we ended up going back to her place and hooking up."
Jensen's eyes bug out. "You what?" he splutters, because that sure explains the conversation he and Danneel had at the house-warming party. So much for Sophia being straight.
"It was just one night, you know?" Sophia insists. She looks panicked. "I mean. I didn't even remember that much of it the next morning. I just woke up in her bed and I was naked and she was naked and it was like oh fuck and, well, yeah."
Jensen puts his head in his hands. It's starting to come together now. "You didn't happen to tell Danneel any of that, did you?"
Sophia squints at him. "Um, yeah, I did." She's puzzled; she's honest-to-god fucking puzzled. "I was sort of pissed and freaked out, so I… oh." She coughs, clears her throat, and goes on a bit quieter like she's realised she might have fucked up. "I told her I was straight and that I was going to forget about what happened, so she should as well-but then she bitched me out!"
Jensen looks up. This is too much drama for him.
"Yeah, I know," Sophia says, completely misinterpreting his look of disbelief. "She's been really nasty to me ever since, so I figured I'd return the favour. She totally took advantage of me, you know."
"Sophia," Jensen says, chiding. He rubs at his temples. "So why haven't you forgotten it?"
Sophia goes quiet. "That's the problem," she whispers a moment later. "I haven't been able to. I keep-it's just-she's on my mind all the time, Jensen. I don't know what to do about it because she's a total bitch, and she obviously hates me, and I. I hate it." She stares resolutely down at her palms, and her voice is shaking. "You know Jared's friend, Chad? He was pretty hot, right? And he totally wanted me, so I gave him my number and we went on a few dates and last week he came back to my place. But. But then we got there and I totally wasn't into it, because all I could think about was fucking Danneel."
Jensen takes a deep breath. "I think you're a little gay," he says, because he doesn't really know what else to say.
Sophia cracks a tiny, tiny smile. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Jensen's lips quirk upwards too and he reaches forward to give her shoulder a comforting rub. "Are you going to talk to her about it?"
Sophia snorts. "Fuck no," she says. "What would I say? 'Oh hey, Danneel, my gay crisis got a little out of hand and I took it out on you, but now I'm over it. Wanna make out?'" She shakes her head, dismissive. "She probably hates me. I'd hate me."
"Just give it a chance," Jensen suggests.
"You wouldn't want to risk it if it was your ass on the line," Sophia reminds him, and they stare out at the cars zooming past for a long minute. Jensen sinks back into the conversation, running pieces of it over in his head as if something will slot into place and he'll suddenly understand how Sophia could be so oblivious for months, hiding her feelings for Danneel under a mask of irritation and confusion. Not even Jared is this clueless.
She's on my mind all the time, he hears on repeat, and suddenly something does fall into place in Jensen's mind. Just not the something Jensen was expecting.
"Oh, fuck," he says to his knees. "I think I'm in love with Jared."
Mind reeling, Jensen garbles an apology and stumbles away from Sophia, back inside the gallery. To the cheers of his more hopeless students, he dismisses his class early and takes off for home, heart pounding and sick to his stomach. It takes him a good thirty seconds to work up the courage to open the door to the apartment; thankfully, Jared is nowhere to be found. There's a note taped to the fridge that reads, Having breakfast with Welling. Just below the message is a smudge of grey, as if something was erased. In that space, scrawled in Jared's chicken scratch, is Kisses, Jay-rod.
Jensen falls onto the couch, head in his hands. Sadie woofs at him plaintively and noses at his leg, leash hanging out of her mouth. He ignores her, taking long breaths into his palms.
When the phone rings a few moments later, sudden and loud, Jensen jumps and scrabbles to answer it before he thinks about what he's doing. The instant the receiver is to his ear, his brain begins to bleat a mantra of fuck fuck fuck. It's going to be Jared. Of course it's going to be Jared. Eyes squeezed shut, Jensen says a shaky hello and waits for the worst.
It's not Jared.
"Jen?" says Chris, tinny through the line but still distinct.
Jensen's head falls back against the wall with a solid clunk. "Hey, Chris," he says, whisper-soft. Surprise has stolen his voice from him.
"How've you been?"
Jensen doesn't know how to answer. Okay, he thinks about saying. Yeah, I'm fine, except I seem to have fallen for my roommate somewhere along the line, except your voice still makes my heart skip a beat, except for the way life isn't fucking fair. Instead, he says, "What do you want, Chris?"
"I want to see you," Chris says quietly. "Steve told me that he ran into you. He. He told you that we're done, right?"
"That and some bullshit about how you never wanted to hurt me," Jensen says, and because he doesn't have the strength for a fight and because he's stupid, stupid over Jared and Chris and this entire mess, he cuts off Chris' desperate It's true- with, "Where do you want to meet?"
Chris' surprised silence speaks volumes and Jensen almost takes it back. But then he thinks hard about his years with Chris, the sky-high ups and crushing downs; he thinks about Jared, straight and gaga over a girl who suddenly seems so very wrong for him in the wake of Jensen's realisation. He bites down on the urge to call it off and says, "Well? Are we doing this or not?"
Chris stutters out the name of a café a few blocks away and Jensen mutters, "Give me ten minutes," before hanging up the phone. The smack of it as it lands back in the cradle is deafening in the silent apartment. Then he heaves himself up off the couch, hooks Sadie onto her leash, and adds on to Jared's hastily-scrawled message.
Out
- J
-
Jensen doesn't get back to the apartment until after noon. Chris doesn't offer to drive him home or anything, just says, "In case you forgot," and presses a tiny slip of paper into Jensen's hand, phone number half-visible even when folded. Jensen lets him, even smiles a little when Chris tries to regale him with a story of his latest gig. He gets home with their talk swirling around his head, so distracted he doesn't even notice Jared curled up on the couch until Jared springs up and exclaims, "Jensen! Been waiting for you all freakin' day. Where've you been, man?"
Jensen, to his credit, doesn't jump. Inside, his heart leaps into his throat and twists itself into an awful, painful place, but on the outside he manages to smile and say, "Yeah, sorry. Something came up."
Jared frowns and leans in, so close that his eyes cross to keep looking at Jensen. It would be funny if Jensen wasn't so terrified. "A bad something?" Jared asks carefully.
Jensen shakes his head. "Nothing like that."
"Good," Jared says, settling both hands on Jensen's shoulders and grinning down at him. Jensen just knows that he's about to hear some exciting news, but he doesn't have time to ask what it is before Jared can't hold back any longer. "I'm bottom," Jared announces, breathless, and Jensen just about has a heart attack.
"Excuse me?" he says, a little shrill.
Jared's face contorts in confusion. "I got the part," he says, slower, "of Bottom. In the play," and oh, Bottom as in Shakespeare's Nick Bottom, with a capital B and absolutely nothing to do with sex. Jensen starts to breathe again and eventually his brain kicks back into gear, reminding him that he should be happy for Jared right now. He manages a smile and claps Jared on the shoulder, stepping out of reach as he does so.
"That's fantastic, Jared," he says, honestly. His smile grows as the words sink in. "That's really fucking awesome, dude."
Jared beams back at him, but there's something in his eyes that's just a tiny bit off. Jensen doesn't figure it out until Jared falls back against the kitchen counter and says, "Yeah, I'm really happy, but, uh… I gotta ask, man. What happened? Something's up."
Jared's selflessness makes Jensen hurt, makes him feel even worse for not doing a good job of covering up how he feels. Shrugging, he turns towards the sink, fishing out a dirty mug. "I saw Chris today," he says softly, staring down at the dregs of yesterday's coffee.
"Saw like-"
"Like he called and I agreed to meet him at a café," Jensen says. He heaves a laboured breath and feels Jared walk up close behind him, a soothing hand rubbing along the back of his neck. The touch is far too intimate, especially now, and Jensen fights not to shrug it off. He doesn't want to hurt Jared's feelings more than he already has.
"Why'd you do that, Jen?" Jared asks, and it's the first time he's ever called Jensen that. It feels a little wrong after Chris used it every day for four years.
After a long minute of silence, Jensen remembers that Jared was probably looking for an answer. He finishes wiping at the now sparkling mug-the harsh dishtowel scrubbing revealed the words World's Best Grandpa on one side-and says, "I don't know," mostly because it's not completely a lie. "We talked for a long time, about a lot of things. I think I might. I think." Jensen takes a deep breath, puts the stupid mug onto the drying rack, and turns around. Jared is startlingly close, looming over Jensen with wide eyes. "He asked me to move back in with him," Jensen says, quiet.
Jared crosses his arms over his chest. "And you said no, right?"
Jensen looks away. "I didn't say yes," he hedges. "I told him I'd think about it."
Jared gives him a look of utter disbelief-and, somewhere in there, disappointment. "You were, of course, lying when you said that."
"I don't think I was," Jensen mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and pointedly doesn't look up at Jared, whose gaze is burning a hole through his head. Jensen shuffles out of the kitchen and sits down heavily on the couch beside Sadie. She startles awake with a congested snuffling sound and presses her face into his stomach.
After a moment, Jared joins them. He knots his hands in his lap and stares at the floor, uncharacteristically silent. Finally, he says, "I don't think this is a good choice for you, man."
Jensen picks at a loose seam in the sofa cushion.
Jared takes Jensen's hand before he unravels the entire seam by mistake. "I'm serious," he says, gentle, thumbs stroking lightly over Jensen's palm. He lets go and Jensen's hand burns with the loss. "I just. Do you really think it's the right thing to do? And not in the, like, 'it's an awesome idea right this second' kind of way. The 'six months have gone by and he cheated again' way." Jared winces at his own words, nudges Jensen's shoulder with his own. "Besides, if you leave, Jeff might kick me out."
It's a joke, obviously a joke, but it sort of hurts anyway. Jensen says, "He won't."
Jared slings a look sideways, aghast. "Jesus, Jensen, I know he won't! I was only kidding." He's starting to look properly worried now and it only makes Jensen want to leave him more-because Jared cares, really honestly cares for Jensen, but he's also straight and taken and so very far out of Jensen's reach. Jensen will never have him, and the knowledge is a persistent ache in his chest.
"Jensen, listen to me." Jared's voice is quiet, soothing. "You were pretty messed up when I first met you, dude, and you want to get back together with the guy that made you feel that way? You. You're sure you don't want to move out for another reason? It's not something a little closer to home?"
Whatever Jensen was about to say, it sticks in his throat. He stares, paralysed with fear, at the bare wall behind the television. Jared knows. Jared definitely knows. Fucking Christ. Jensen stares down at Sadie and doesn't say anything, just focuses on breathing slow and even. Maybe if he's cool enough about this, he'll be able to deny it convincingly and Jared will laugh, let it drop, and that'll be the end of that; Jensen will be able to quietly disappear without Jared forever thinking of him as the fake boyfriend who was stupid enough to start to believe the lie.
Then Jared says, hushed, "Is it Misha? You really like him, huh. Is this one of those 'I love him too much and I've got to leave him' things?"
Yes, Jensen thinks. "It's not Misha," he sighs.
"Jeff?"
"No!" Jensen flushes. Fuck, he didn't think that through very well. "I don't-like anybody. I mean. It's not a love thing, Jared. It's not anything. There's no other reason. I just want to give Chris a second chance."
Jared's eyes are narrow, head tilted and expression scrutinising in a way that makes Jensen sure his lie was a bad one. Feeling heat creep up his neck, Jensen quickly looks away. He wants to go crawl under his blankets, hidden from the weight of Jared's stare.
"I don't want you to go." Jared's voice is so soft that Jensen almost misses it, drowned out by the rumble of the city outside. "Maybe it's selfish of me, man. But… I really like having you around."
Jensen's hands flex, useless, on his knees, curling into white-knuckled fists. It's too close to what he wants to hear. Desperate for more air, he stumbles off the couch, mutters, "Need some time to think," and stumbles through the door to his bedroom. The snick of the lock sliding home echoes in his ears long after Jensen has slid to the floor and buried his face in his knees.
-
Jensen doesn't see much of Jared over the next few days. In apology for ditching her, he has lunch with Sophia after his Friday class, and she smacks him on the nose and scolds him and tells him never to do that again, but there's sympathy shining in her eyes. She knows how hard this is. It makes him feel worse. He tries feebly to convince her to talk to Danneel, but she scoffs and rolls her eyes, says, "You're in my boat now."
She's right. Jensen is almost grateful that Jared is so busy, and the third day of nothing but a note on the kitchen fridge-this morning it reads, Gone to theatre. Don't do anything drastic like move out while I'm gone. xoxoxo-Jensen gets sick of Chris' constant voicemails and makes the call that he's been dreading. Chris picks up on the second ring.
"Meet me at Jim's," Jensen says in lieu of a greeting. Jim's Coffeehouse was their favourite spot to relax when they were low on cash, and Jensen figures that means something now.
Chris says, "Jen-"
"Twenty minutes," Jensen says shortly, and hangs up. He half expects Chris not to show, to chicken out at the last minute after deciding that Jensen was too much of a hassle to make this much effort for, but when Jensen slips into the café half an hour later, Chris is sitting at their favourite booth at the very back. He has his head craned back over the partition and looks like an idiot, shaggy hair falling into his eyes like always. He leaps up at the sight of Jensen, palms smoothing down the front of his jeans, mocha latte forgotten on the table behind him.
"Hey," he says, awkwardly shifting back into his seat when Jensen slides into his own without a word. "Um. I just want to say. I mean-I was so surprised when you called me, and I want to thank you-"
"Chris," Jensen says quietly. He folds his hands on the tabletop and swallows around the lump in his throat. "That's not why I'm here."
There's just a fraction of a second where Chris looks hopelessly, helplessly, heartbreakingly confused, but then he reads Jensen's expression and gets it. His face crumples and he slumps back against the seat. It's the closest Chris has looked to crying in all the time that Jensen has known him.
Jensen pays for Chris' latte and this time when they say goodbye, Jensen knows it's for good. Chris staggers out of the coffeehouse like he's sleepwalking, dragging long sluggish limbs and stumbling on his shoes. Jensen watches him go and isn't alone thirty seconds before the manager sits down across the table.
"It's for the best," Jim tells him. There are coffee stains all over his apron and white foam in his greying beard; he looks exactly the same as he did when Jensen came in every day, a penniless student struggling to put himself through college-one that Jim would sometimes slip a free cappuccino.
Jensen stares into the sheen of the windowpane beside him, at his own reflection. It smiles at him a little sadly, because every remnant of those times is behind him now. Chris was the last piece of that lifestyle to remain and Jensen just closed that door. Letting out a big breath, he turns back to Jim, says, "I know."
-
When Jared gets home that evening, his steps are heavy and slow; the effort it takes to hang his coat on the rack looks painful. There's a definite downward twist to his mouth when Sadie pads over to him and woofs her hello; he sighs, "Hey, girl," like it's not the greeting he wanted.
"Jared," Jensen says from the couch, half-hidden behind his laptop, and Jared jumps, looks up wildly. A huge breath whooshes out of him when he sees Jensen and the weight lifts from his shoulders as if by magic.
"Oh," Jared says, voice neutral, "hey. You're still here."
"Are you surprised?"
Jared shrugs, toes off his shoes. "A little. I was sure today would be the day-you know, I'd come home and all of your stuff would be gone. But then again I thought yesterday was the day, too."
Yeah, well, it turns out the thought of not seeing you every day was more painful than knowing I can't have you, Jensen doesn't say. Instead, he clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. His cheeks are red. "You know, I. I think I might stick around."
Jared smiles, but he looks unsure, like Jensen might mean for a day or two or maybe another month. He doesn't say anything, and it takes Jensen too long to realise that he's waiting for more.
"Um." Jensen shuts his computer and sets it aside, sits on his hands so Jared won't see how badly he's shaking. He tries to think of something to say that won't give him away. "I, uh. I decided it wasn't what I wanted. That he-wasn't what I wanted." Shit. Too close, too much. "There was no way I was going to be happier with him than I am here," with you.
Jared sits down on the arm of the couch. "I'm glad you're staying. I know I already said this, but I sort of like having you here, you know?"
"I like being here," Jensen admits. He stares at his lap until Jared puts a hand on his shoulder, and then Jensen looks up without a second thought. Jared's smiling down at him, dimples in full force. His hair is a little greasy and he's sweaty and not so fresh from his long day, and yet he's still the most beautiful thing Jensen has ever seen.
I love you, he thinks. Aloud he says, sugar-voiced and over the top, "How was your day, honey?"
It's close enough.
part four
Full header in MASTER POST.
part two
Jensen wakes up on the third morning of Adrianne's visit to the sound of really suspicious noises coming from the next room. He groans and rolls over, burying his head underneath his pillow. Overall, it's been going well; Adrianne's nice-if a bit high-strung-and Jared is happier than ever, but there's only so much overheard morning sex Jensen can take. The pillow doesn't help much, so he crawls out of bed a moment later. He's exhausted, but he needs to get out of the apartment. Desperate, he pulls on his ratty, paint-stained jeans and a white wifebeater, and grabs Sadie's leash. She woofs encouragement when he clips it onto her collar and practically pulls him out the door.
They run for a good hour, Jensen's worn-out sneakers slapping the pavement in time with Sadie's paws, before the sun starts to bear down on them a little too much. Jensen wipes the sweat from his brow and glances up, guesses from the light and the position of the sun that it's about ten o'clock. "Okay, girl," he pants, dropping to his knees to give Sadie a proper rub behind the ears. "Think it's about time to go back. Hopefully Jared and Adrianne will have stopped bumping uglies by now, huh?"
A passing woman gives Jensen a strange look as he gets back up, but he ignores her and turns for home. They walk back, weaving under trees for shade and taking their sweet time. Jensen pulls Sadie into a run-down little cafe to grab a coffee, and as he waits to pay he pulls out his cell to check the time. The display tells him he has a new voicemail, left about ten minutes earlier.
Jensen. Come straight to my apartment when you get this, it says simply. It's Misha's voice, there's no doubt about that, and he sounds pissed. Jensen runs the rest of the way home.
Sadie beats him there, running so fast and so far ahead that her leash is taut, tugging Jensen after her. The door to their flat is open and she barrels in, barking at Jared, who is leaning against the kitchen counter. Adrianne is standing next to him, dressed only in lingerie. Startled, Jensen averts his eyes and unclips Sadie's lead. "Morning," he says, staring at the floor. "Um, I'll be back in a few minutes. Misha wants to see me-"
"We have a problem," Jared says.
"Huh?"
Jared swallows, so hard it clicks audibly in his throat, and says, "I think Misha saw us."
Jensen straightens up slowly, letting go of Sadie. She rushes into the living room and onto the couch, immediately attacking the squeaking chew toy waiting for her there. Each aggravating high-pitched squeal falls in time with the pounding of Jensen's heart in his ears. "Excuse me?"
Jared shrugs, plainly uncomfortable with the subject. "He, uh. I didn't hear him come to the door, but he definitely said something, and then I heard him going down the stairs. God, Jensen, I'm sorry."
Jensen throws his arms wide in disbelief, demands, "What, did he walk into your bedroom?"
Jared blushes and scratches the back of his neck. He glances at Adrianne as if she'll save him, but she is silent, looking confused and pissed off. "No, we were sort of, um. In here."
"What happened to keeping it on the DL, Jared!" Jensen groans, rushing out. This could cost them the fucking apartment. Misha could go running to Jeff. Oh, fuck. Jensen's going to end up on the streets, selling his body for cash. Fuck fuck fuck why wasn't Jared more careful-
He raps on Misha's door, feigning a casual smile when the door creaks open a moment later and Misha pokes his head out into the hallway. Wordlessly, he ushers Jensen inside and checks the corridor one last time before shutting the door securely behind him; then he whirls on Jensen, flattening himself against the wall. His eyes are huge and bright in the darkness of his apartment. "Jensen, I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he says, guilty-quiet, "but Jared is cheating on you."
Jensen blinks. "Come again?"
Misha grabs fistfuls of dark hair and stalks around his tiny living room, livid. Jensen has never been inside Misha's apartment before, but it's just how he imagined it. Half-finished canvases lean against unpainted walls, and dream catchers and wind chimes hang from the ceiling. There are symbols written on the walls and soothing oceanic sounds emanate from an ancient stereo in the corner. None of the lights are on and the dirty windows don't do much to brighten things up.
Misha clatters around the kitchen, snatching tea bags from a little bowl, his kettle clanking against a row of mugs. "I walked in on Jared this morning," he says, head hung between his bony shoulders like he doesn't want to look at Jensen. "With a girl. I'm so sorry."
Jensen's breath rushes out of him in one big whoosh, because oh. Of course this is the conclusion Misha would jump to. Jensen sort of feels like laughing, but then Misha turns to him and extends a mug of steaming tea, face scrunched up in sympathy, and Jensen opens his mouth and says, "Misha, I've got to tell you something."
"Tea?" Misha says, still holding the cup, but the way he's eyeing Jensen says that he's listening.
Jensen accepts the tea, takes a long sip for bravery, and then: "We lied to get the apartment."
"What?"
Jensen toes the dusty floor. "Jared and I, we're not really a couple," he says. "The girl you saw him with is his girlfriend. She's visiting from San Francisco. He promised me he'd be good, but I guess I shouldn't have believed him, huh?" Jensen smiles, a little shaky, and shrugs. Misha's just staring at him, eyes narrow, so he stumbles onward. "But we. We really like it here, so please don't tell Jeff-"
"I'm not going to tell Jeff," Misha says.
Jensen breaks into a grin, relief coursing through him. He opens his mouth to thank Misha when he hears something shatter above their heads. The muted sound of shouting filters through the ceiling and Jensen winces. He can just about hear Jared's voice, placating, apologising. "Thanks, man," Jensen says, just a fraction too loud, enough to drown out the argument above. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this."
Misha shrugs and sips at his tea. "So you're straight?" he asks, thoughtful, openly curious.
Jensen shakes his head and Misha's lips curl into a smile. He looks like he's about to say something, so Jensen hastens to make things clear. "I got dumped," he explains, staring down at the dregs of his tea. "Had to find a new place to live. It was tough, for a while."
Misha makes a sympathetic noise and Jensen looks up. Misha's expression is understanding and a little pitying, traces of something Jensen can't define-he looks sort of pleased, maybe; hopeful-fading away. He doesn't speak for a long moment and it's not until he quietly says, "I'm sorry," that Jensen begins to feel like he missed something.
-
When Jensen returns upstairs, he finds Jared curled up on the couch with Sadie, looking extremely gloomy. He barely reacts when the door opens, just goes on thumbing Sadie's ears like her bliss will bleed into him. Her tail hits the sofa cushions with every wag and she woofs a lazy hello when Jensen steps inside.
Jensen begins to fix some brunch. With his back to Jared, he asks, "You all right?"
Jared grunts. "Adrianne is staying with a friend tonight. She's leaving tomorrow. Sit down?"
Sandwich abandoned, Jensen collapses down beside Jared, who shoots him a miserable look and says, "I'm really sorry about this morning."
"I take it she gave you hell?"
Jared picks at a loose seam in his threadbare t-shirt. "I never told her, uh, how we got this place. She didn't understand why it was such a big deal that Misha walked in on us, so I told her the truth, and she got really pissed!" He scowls, arms crossed tight over his chest. "She said I should spend more time with my boyfriend and stormed out. Why is she freaking out? She knows it's not true!"
Jensen swallows hard around a lump and says, "Are you guys-?"
Jared shakes his head, tips over a little to bury his face in Sadie's stomach. "Nah, she'll cool down once she realises her argument made no sense," he mutters into the dog's fur. "But she said the weirdest things, like she thought I was actually cheating on her with you- Jesus, how ridiculous is that? She said shit like, 'I knew it!' and, 'You could've at least had the decency to tell me!' What is that?"
Jensen takes deep, slow breaths, because it's definitely his heart that is lodged in his throat. He doesn't want to be talking about this anymore.
"Man." Jared flops back against the cushions and throws an arm over his face. "Today was going to be so fun, too. Did I tell you? When I was walking Sadie the other day, I saw a poster for this tiny local theatre company-they're doing A Midsummer Night's Dream. The auditions are today and I was gonna try out, and we were going to grab dinner afterwards at this really fucking fancy place. This sucks."
"You could still audition," Jensen says softly. He wonders briefly if it's a mistake to push this, but adds, "I'll come with you. We can, uh. We can skip the meal though."
Jared slides a look at him. "You want to come?"
Jensen smiles and jostles Jared's shoulder. "Of course I do, man. What time does it start?"
The answer turns out to be noon, which is only half an hour away. To make matters worse, the auditorium where the auditions are being held is across town. Jared frantically runs a comb through his unruly hair before high-tailing it to Jensen's truck; Jensen follows after leaving Sadie in Jeff's capable hands.
Miraculously, they make it there in time. It's a tiny theatre, not fit for more than thirty or forty people, but it's nice and well-lit, comfortable. Jensen likes the look of it immediately. Jared, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice the people he keeps walking into, no less the decor; he's so nervous that he's sweating through his shirt. He adds his name and contact information to the list and listens wide-eyed as the director takes the stage and explains that all the men are going to receive one monologue to perform, the women another.
"I can't do this," Jared moans after one of the staff hands him his sheet of paper. He's lucky thirteen, reading the same passage of Puck's as half of the hopefuls scattered around the room. "Jensen, I don't even know what half of this means!"
"Jared?"
Jared whirls in the direction of the new voice, his hands still twisted in his hair. "Sandy?"
Jensen turns as well and finds himself face to face-well, face to chest-with Sophia's friend Sandy. She's clutching her speech to her chest and smiling up at Jared like he's the whole world. She gives Jensen a little wave when she notices that he's there too.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she says, bubbly as ever. "You're both auditioning?"
Jared waves his script. "Nope, just me."
"Oh, I see." She reaches over and gives his hand a little squeeze. "Good luck!"
"You too," Jared says, still grinning as she walks away. The instant she's out of earshot, he turns back to Jensen and pumps his fist in the air. "Dude, she digs me so bad. I am a fucking sex god."
Jensen rolls his eyes, ignoring the heat rising up his neck, and snatches the papers out of Jared's hands. He's always been a fan of Shakespeare; A Midsummer Night's Dream was never his favourite, but he knows he can help Jared. "Here, I'll walk you through this," he says, because there are twenty minutes to kill before the auditions are due to actually start.
Jared, back to being nervous, throws up his arms in exasperation. "Of course you know it," he whinges, but he's smiling, and he sits quiet and cooperative as Jensen explains the monologue to the best of his ability. By the time the director calls for silence, Jared has a handle on Puck's attitude and actually knows what the hell he's saying, which Jensen figures will help him out just a tad.
The first twelve guys aren't awful. Jensen doesn't think any of them are particularly spectacular, and when the director finally calls out, "Jared Pada, um-Pada-" he socks Jared in the arm and says, "You're going to nail this, I know it."
Jared just gives him a panicked smile and stands up before his last name can be mangled further. He takes the stage a little stiffly, hunched over like he wants to minimise just how much space he takes up, and gives a shy little wave when the director blinks up at him through a thick fringe of dark hair. He doesn't do anything for a moment, so she cocks an eyebrow and tells him, "Go ahead," and Jared clears his throat and begins.
Jensen watches from the back of the auditorium. Jared is too big to be an ideal Puck, too bulky and solid, but he delivers the lines better than Jensen expects him to. The thought makes Jensen feel a little guilty, but he's so impressed that it soon fades to the back of his mind. By the time Jared is finished, flitting (a little ridiculously) offstage after For I must now to Oberon, the whole auditorium is flatteringly silent, and the director writes something down on her clipboard before she calls the next person up.
With the speech still clenched tight in his fists, Jared bounces to where Jensen is sitting. "How'd I do?" he asks excitedly, beaming at Sandy when she gives him a thumbs-up from across the room.
"Really good, Jared," Jensen says, quiet and honest.
Jared lights up at the praise and tugs Jensen towards the exit, saying, "Hey, what the hell, I think I'll treat you to some grub anyway. For being such a good friend," and then without warning he turns around and hugs Jensen tight; they stand there, framed by the light streaming through the open door, and Jensen thinks on repeat that Jared is just a little tender after the argument with Adrianne, just a little vulnerable, in need of some healthy physical contact, but Jared is always like this. With a sigh, Jensen buries his face in the collar of Jared's shirt and waits it out. Somewhere not so deep down, he doesn't want Jared to stop touching him.
Jared brings him to a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, proclaiming loudly as he steps over the threshold that it's the home to the best food in LA. This immediately gets the attention of the greying lady behind the counter, who bustles out and swats him on the arm with a menu. "Jared Padalecki!" she says, and Jensen somehow gets the impression that Jared might be a regular here. "I haven't seen you in months! What on earth have you been up to? You come in here like clockwork every Tuesday for two years, and then suddenly-poof! You're gone. Did the college boy decide he was too good for us?"
Jared flushes and fidgets; Jensen is desperately fishing for a way to save this situation from getting more awkward when a young man comes out of the back room and says, "Stop pestering him, Ma."
The woman draws back and tuts disapprovingly, but turns back to the cash register. "Fine, Milo," she says. "Interrogate him yourself."
Milo-dark-haired, attractive, probably around Jensen's age-rolls his eyes and leads them to a table. "How've you been, Jared?" he asks. He gives Jensen a polite smile and hands them each a menu. "Ma's right, you know. You vanished on us."
Jared rakes a hand through his hair and shrugs. "I've been real busy," he says, a little haltingly. "And now I'm living across town, so it makes it a little harder to, uh. This is my roommate, Jensen."
"Nice to meet you," Milo says with a nod. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you'll have the usual, Jared. How's Adrianne?"
Jared looks a little overwhelmed. "Oh, um," he says, "she's in town, actually. Leaving tomorrow. I was going to take her here today, but… something came up. So I took my buddy instead!" Jared smiles, wide and probably fake, and gives Jensen a manly clap on the shoulder across the table. It's a little awkward and Milo seems to notice, because he takes Jensen's order really quickly and leaves them alone. Jared visibly relaxes once he's gone and slouches back in the booth with a smile. "So tell me again how awesome I was."
Jensen rolls his eyes but indulges Jared, because he just looks so happy, satisfied, like this morning's fuck-up never happened. Jensen envies his ability to do that, just brush off the disasters and move on. With Jensen, they stick with him, for months, for years, as he rehashes them in his head until they're nothing but horrible, scattered memories.
"You really were great," he says, slipping a smile Milo's way as he drops off their drinks. "You really stood out."
Jared glows. "Thanks, man," he says, flicking at the ridiculous bright pink bendy straw Milo put in his milkshake. "Do you. I mean. You think I'll actually get a part?"
"I think they'd be crazy not to cast you," answers Jensen honestly. Jared beams and Jensen wants so badly to keep going, keep piling up compliment after compliment so that expression never fades from his face; but before Jensen has a chance to say another word, a familiar voice says from behind him, "Hey, Jensen."
Jensen's stomach drops right down to his toes and he stares at his coffee. Jared nudges him, not understanding, so Jensen shoots him a miserable look, braces himself, and turns around. He's greeted by the sight of long blond hair and dark sunglasses, a crooked smile and a guitar slung over one broad shoulder, and thinks, Jensen, fucking get it together. "Steve," he croaks, finally, and feels Jared go still across the table as he puts it together- Jensen has, after all, told him about Steve, about Chris and Steve.
Jensen stares up into Steve's blank face and starts to wish he hadn't left the apartment at all.
Steve takes a sip of his coffee and waits a beat. Then, strangely, he says, "Chris broke it off with me."
Jensen blinks.
Steve shrugs. "I just thought you should know," he says, and he's so mellow and fucking level-headed that Jensen sort of wants to punch him in the face. He was like this right after Jensen found him-them-too, just the same: mild-mannered and calm and rational and fuck him. "He never wanted to hurt you," Steve adds.
Jensen has honestly no idea how to respond to that, so he sits there in stupid, open-mouthed silence until Jared clears his throat and makes a point of reaching across the booth to take Jensen's hand. "Look, man," he says, "Jensen obviously doesn't want to talk to you. And we were in the middle of a conversation, so if you wouldn't mind…"
Steve's eyebrows rocket towards his hairline and he backs up a few steps, holding out the hand that isn't holding his coffee in surrender. "Okay," he says. "Sorry."
The bells over the exit tinkle as the door shuts behind him, but Jensen's gaze never strays from Jared. He's staring outright but Jared doesn't seem to have noticed, intent on the steaming bowl of spaghetti Milo just put in front of him. A tiny smile is dancing around his mouth, though, giving him away. Jensen sits back in his seat and tells him, "You're incredible, you know that?"
Jared rolls his shoulders in a shrug, but his face reddens a little. He still doesn't look up from his pasta. "That's what they tell me," he says.
-
Jensen has a nine-thirty class he has to teach on Wednesdays, and it's the bane of his existence. It's all pretentious community college students only a few years younger than he is, and every single one of them thinks they know far more about the art world than Jensen does. When Jensen instructs them to do four five-minute sketches over the next twenty minutes, the conservative girl at the back begins whining about the (fantastically patient) nude model and the boys at the front forgo their work to leer.
Jensen resists the urge to smash his face against his desk, instead taking a long slug of his scalding hot coffee and engrossing himself in paperwork. He's been on edge since the run-in with Steve; thrown off-balance with no idea what to make of much of anything anymore. He half-expects Chris to burst in on one of his classes with apologies and chocolate and flowers, but he also feels like there's something missing, something that he hasn't allowed himself to see-and it has nothing to do with Chris.
Jensen groans and tries to get himself back on track. One of his most annoying students has asked for a recommendation. Before he has to begin the gruelling process of deciding whether to write it or not, Sophia bustles in and sits down beside him.
"Hey, Jen," she whispers. "I didn't know Katie was modelling today."
"Yep," Jensen says, staring down at his papers.
Sophia fidgets. "I ran into Danneel this morning."
Jensen looks up. Sophia's face is pink, like she's angry or embarrassed or both, and she shrugs and looks at her feet under Jensen's scrutiny. She's obviously in the mood to share, and while Jensen should really be walking around and critiquing his students' work, gossip appeals to him much more. So he stands, puts a hand on Sophia's shoulder, and says, "Do you want to take a five-minute break with me, Miss Bush?"
She smiles at him gratefully and allows him to steer her out the door. He sits her down on a bench outside and offers her the remains of his coffee, which she slurps up with absolutely zero finesse before opening her mouth and just talking.
"My class had just finished," Sophia says, hands wrapped tight around the styrofoam cup. "I was waiting with my students outside, and she was late to pick Dash up. So he and I were sitting out here, just chatting-and then she shows up and she says, 'Dashel Xavier,' all commanding, and is that really his middle name? God, that woman is fucking ridiculous."
"I think it's his great-uncle's name or something," Jensen puts in.
Sophia steamrolls right over it. "Anyway. She called him over and then she gave me this really icy stare, you know, like I was the one who fucked everything up. Jesus Christ."
Jensen grabs her hands, carefully manoeuvring the coffee cup out of her crushing grip, and rubs his thumbs along her knuckles until she quiets. "Soph," he says, finally, staring down at her pale palms, "you never told me what happened between you and Danneel. I'm sort of lost here."
Sophia deflates. "Oh," she says softly. "We, uh. You know Gabe's birthday party a few months ago? Well, um. Afterwards, I dunno. We were both pretty drunk, and we ended up going back to her place and hooking up."
Jensen's eyes bug out. "You what?" he splutters, because that sure explains the conversation he and Danneel had at the house-warming party. So much for Sophia being straight.
"It was just one night, you know?" Sophia insists. She looks panicked. "I mean. I didn't even remember that much of it the next morning. I just woke up in her bed and I was naked and she was naked and it was like oh fuck and, well, yeah."
Jensen puts his head in his hands. It's starting to come together now. "You didn't happen to tell Danneel any of that, did you?"
Sophia squints at him. "Um, yeah, I did." She's puzzled; she's honest-to-god fucking puzzled. "I was sort of pissed and freaked out, so I… oh." She coughs, clears her throat, and goes on a bit quieter like she's realised she might have fucked up. "I told her I was straight and that I was going to forget about what happened, so she should as well-but then she bitched me out!"
Jensen looks up. This is too much drama for him.
"Yeah, I know," Sophia says, completely misinterpreting his look of disbelief. "She's been really nasty to me ever since, so I figured I'd return the favour. She totally took advantage of me, you know."
"Sophia," Jensen says, chiding. He rubs at his temples. "So why haven't you forgotten it?"
Sophia goes quiet. "That's the problem," she whispers a moment later. "I haven't been able to. I keep-it's just-she's on my mind all the time, Jensen. I don't know what to do about it because she's a total bitch, and she obviously hates me, and I. I hate it." She stares resolutely down at her palms, and her voice is shaking. "You know Jared's friend, Chad? He was pretty hot, right? And he totally wanted me, so I gave him my number and we went on a few dates and last week he came back to my place. But. But then we got there and I totally wasn't into it, because all I could think about was fucking Danneel."
Jensen takes a deep breath. "I think you're a little gay," he says, because he doesn't really know what else to say.
Sophia cracks a tiny, tiny smile. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Jensen's lips quirk upwards too and he reaches forward to give her shoulder a comforting rub. "Are you going to talk to her about it?"
Sophia snorts. "Fuck no," she says. "What would I say? 'Oh hey, Danneel, my gay crisis got a little out of hand and I took it out on you, but now I'm over it. Wanna make out?'" She shakes her head, dismissive. "She probably hates me. I'd hate me."
"Just give it a chance," Jensen suggests.
"You wouldn't want to risk it if it was your ass on the line," Sophia reminds him, and they stare out at the cars zooming past for a long minute. Jensen sinks back into the conversation, running pieces of it over in his head as if something will slot into place and he'll suddenly understand how Sophia could be so oblivious for months, hiding her feelings for Danneel under a mask of irritation and confusion. Not even Jared is this clueless.
She's on my mind all the time, he hears on repeat, and suddenly something does fall into place in Jensen's mind. Just not the something Jensen was expecting.
"Oh, fuck," he says to his knees. "I think I'm in love with Jared."
Mind reeling, Jensen garbles an apology and stumbles away from Sophia, back inside the gallery. To the cheers of his more hopeless students, he dismisses his class early and takes off for home, heart pounding and sick to his stomach. It takes him a good thirty seconds to work up the courage to open the door to the apartment; thankfully, Jared is nowhere to be found. There's a note taped to the fridge that reads, Having breakfast with Welling. Just below the message is a smudge of grey, as if something was erased. In that space, scrawled in Jared's chicken scratch, is Kisses, Jay-rod.
Jensen falls onto the couch, head in his hands. Sadie woofs at him plaintively and noses at his leg, leash hanging out of her mouth. He ignores her, taking long breaths into his palms.
When the phone rings a few moments later, sudden and loud, Jensen jumps and scrabbles to answer it before he thinks about what he's doing. The instant the receiver is to his ear, his brain begins to bleat a mantra of fuck fuck fuck. It's going to be Jared. Of course it's going to be Jared. Eyes squeezed shut, Jensen says a shaky hello and waits for the worst.
It's not Jared.
"Jen?" says Chris, tinny through the line but still distinct.
Jensen's head falls back against the wall with a solid clunk. "Hey, Chris," he says, whisper-soft. Surprise has stolen his voice from him.
"How've you been?"
Jensen doesn't know how to answer. Okay, he thinks about saying. Yeah, I'm fine, except I seem to have fallen for my roommate somewhere along the line, except your voice still makes my heart skip a beat, except for the way life isn't fucking fair. Instead, he says, "What do you want, Chris?"
"I want to see you," Chris says quietly. "Steve told me that he ran into you. He. He told you that we're done, right?"
"That and some bullshit about how you never wanted to hurt me," Jensen says, and because he doesn't have the strength for a fight and because he's stupid, stupid over Jared and Chris and this entire mess, he cuts off Chris' desperate It's true- with, "Where do you want to meet?"
Chris' surprised silence speaks volumes and Jensen almost takes it back. But then he thinks hard about his years with Chris, the sky-high ups and crushing downs; he thinks about Jared, straight and gaga over a girl who suddenly seems so very wrong for him in the wake of Jensen's realisation. He bites down on the urge to call it off and says, "Well? Are we doing this or not?"
Chris stutters out the name of a café a few blocks away and Jensen mutters, "Give me ten minutes," before hanging up the phone. The smack of it as it lands back in the cradle is deafening in the silent apartment. Then he heaves himself up off the couch, hooks Sadie onto her leash, and adds on to Jared's hastily-scrawled message.
Out
- J
-
Jensen doesn't get back to the apartment until after noon. Chris doesn't offer to drive him home or anything, just says, "In case you forgot," and presses a tiny slip of paper into Jensen's hand, phone number half-visible even when folded. Jensen lets him, even smiles a little when Chris tries to regale him with a story of his latest gig. He gets home with their talk swirling around his head, so distracted he doesn't even notice Jared curled up on the couch until Jared springs up and exclaims, "Jensen! Been waiting for you all freakin' day. Where've you been, man?"
Jensen, to his credit, doesn't jump. Inside, his heart leaps into his throat and twists itself into an awful, painful place, but on the outside he manages to smile and say, "Yeah, sorry. Something came up."
Jared frowns and leans in, so close that his eyes cross to keep looking at Jensen. It would be funny if Jensen wasn't so terrified. "A bad something?" Jared asks carefully.
Jensen shakes his head. "Nothing like that."
"Good," Jared says, settling both hands on Jensen's shoulders and grinning down at him. Jensen just knows that he's about to hear some exciting news, but he doesn't have time to ask what it is before Jared can't hold back any longer. "I'm bottom," Jared announces, breathless, and Jensen just about has a heart attack.
"Excuse me?" he says, a little shrill.
Jared's face contorts in confusion. "I got the part," he says, slower, "of Bottom. In the play," and oh, Bottom as in Shakespeare's Nick Bottom, with a capital B and absolutely nothing to do with sex. Jensen starts to breathe again and eventually his brain kicks back into gear, reminding him that he should be happy for Jared right now. He manages a smile and claps Jared on the shoulder, stepping out of reach as he does so.
"That's fantastic, Jared," he says, honestly. His smile grows as the words sink in. "That's really fucking awesome, dude."
Jared beams back at him, but there's something in his eyes that's just a tiny bit off. Jensen doesn't figure it out until Jared falls back against the kitchen counter and says, "Yeah, I'm really happy, but, uh… I gotta ask, man. What happened? Something's up."
Jared's selflessness makes Jensen hurt, makes him feel even worse for not doing a good job of covering up how he feels. Shrugging, he turns towards the sink, fishing out a dirty mug. "I saw Chris today," he says softly, staring down at the dregs of yesterday's coffee.
"Saw like-"
"Like he called and I agreed to meet him at a café," Jensen says. He heaves a laboured breath and feels Jared walk up close behind him, a soothing hand rubbing along the back of his neck. The touch is far too intimate, especially now, and Jensen fights not to shrug it off. He doesn't want to hurt Jared's feelings more than he already has.
"Why'd you do that, Jen?" Jared asks, and it's the first time he's ever called Jensen that. It feels a little wrong after Chris used it every day for four years.
After a long minute of silence, Jensen remembers that Jared was probably looking for an answer. He finishes wiping at the now sparkling mug-the harsh dishtowel scrubbing revealed the words World's Best Grandpa on one side-and says, "I don't know," mostly because it's not completely a lie. "We talked for a long time, about a lot of things. I think I might. I think." Jensen takes a deep breath, puts the stupid mug onto the drying rack, and turns around. Jared is startlingly close, looming over Jensen with wide eyes. "He asked me to move back in with him," Jensen says, quiet.
Jared crosses his arms over his chest. "And you said no, right?"
Jensen looks away. "I didn't say yes," he hedges. "I told him I'd think about it."
Jared gives him a look of utter disbelief-and, somewhere in there, disappointment. "You were, of course, lying when you said that."
"I don't think I was," Jensen mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and pointedly doesn't look up at Jared, whose gaze is burning a hole through his head. Jensen shuffles out of the kitchen and sits down heavily on the couch beside Sadie. She startles awake with a congested snuffling sound and presses her face into his stomach.
After a moment, Jared joins them. He knots his hands in his lap and stares at the floor, uncharacteristically silent. Finally, he says, "I don't think this is a good choice for you, man."
Jensen picks at a loose seam in the sofa cushion.
Jared takes Jensen's hand before he unravels the entire seam by mistake. "I'm serious," he says, gentle, thumbs stroking lightly over Jensen's palm. He lets go and Jensen's hand burns with the loss. "I just. Do you really think it's the right thing to do? And not in the, like, 'it's an awesome idea right this second' kind of way. The 'six months have gone by and he cheated again' way." Jared winces at his own words, nudges Jensen's shoulder with his own. "Besides, if you leave, Jeff might kick me out."
It's a joke, obviously a joke, but it sort of hurts anyway. Jensen says, "He won't."
Jared slings a look sideways, aghast. "Jesus, Jensen, I know he won't! I was only kidding." He's starting to look properly worried now and it only makes Jensen want to leave him more-because Jared cares, really honestly cares for Jensen, but he's also straight and taken and so very far out of Jensen's reach. Jensen will never have him, and the knowledge is a persistent ache in his chest.
"Jensen, listen to me." Jared's voice is quiet, soothing. "You were pretty messed up when I first met you, dude, and you want to get back together with the guy that made you feel that way? You. You're sure you don't want to move out for another reason? It's not something a little closer to home?"
Whatever Jensen was about to say, it sticks in his throat. He stares, paralysed with fear, at the bare wall behind the television. Jared knows. Jared definitely knows. Fucking Christ. Jensen stares down at Sadie and doesn't say anything, just focuses on breathing slow and even. Maybe if he's cool enough about this, he'll be able to deny it convincingly and Jared will laugh, let it drop, and that'll be the end of that; Jensen will be able to quietly disappear without Jared forever thinking of him as the fake boyfriend who was stupid enough to start to believe the lie.
Then Jared says, hushed, "Is it Misha? You really like him, huh. Is this one of those 'I love him too much and I've got to leave him' things?"
Yes, Jensen thinks. "It's not Misha," he sighs.
"Jeff?"
"No!" Jensen flushes. Fuck, he didn't think that through very well. "I don't-like anybody. I mean. It's not a love thing, Jared. It's not anything. There's no other reason. I just want to give Chris a second chance."
Jared's eyes are narrow, head tilted and expression scrutinising in a way that makes Jensen sure his lie was a bad one. Feeling heat creep up his neck, Jensen quickly looks away. He wants to go crawl under his blankets, hidden from the weight of Jared's stare.
"I don't want you to go." Jared's voice is so soft that Jensen almost misses it, drowned out by the rumble of the city outside. "Maybe it's selfish of me, man. But… I really like having you around."
Jensen's hands flex, useless, on his knees, curling into white-knuckled fists. It's too close to what he wants to hear. Desperate for more air, he stumbles off the couch, mutters, "Need some time to think," and stumbles through the door to his bedroom. The snick of the lock sliding home echoes in his ears long after Jensen has slid to the floor and buried his face in his knees.
-
Jensen doesn't see much of Jared over the next few days. In apology for ditching her, he has lunch with Sophia after his Friday class, and she smacks him on the nose and scolds him and tells him never to do that again, but there's sympathy shining in her eyes. She knows how hard this is. It makes him feel worse. He tries feebly to convince her to talk to Danneel, but she scoffs and rolls her eyes, says, "You're in my boat now."
She's right. Jensen is almost grateful that Jared is so busy, and the third day of nothing but a note on the kitchen fridge-this morning it reads, Gone to theatre. Don't do anything drastic like move out while I'm gone. xoxoxo-Jensen gets sick of Chris' constant voicemails and makes the call that he's been dreading. Chris picks up on the second ring.
"Meet me at Jim's," Jensen says in lieu of a greeting. Jim's Coffeehouse was their favourite spot to relax when they were low on cash, and Jensen figures that means something now.
Chris says, "Jen-"
"Twenty minutes," Jensen says shortly, and hangs up. He half expects Chris not to show, to chicken out at the last minute after deciding that Jensen was too much of a hassle to make this much effort for, but when Jensen slips into the café half an hour later, Chris is sitting at their favourite booth at the very back. He has his head craned back over the partition and looks like an idiot, shaggy hair falling into his eyes like always. He leaps up at the sight of Jensen, palms smoothing down the front of his jeans, mocha latte forgotten on the table behind him.
"Hey," he says, awkwardly shifting back into his seat when Jensen slides into his own without a word. "Um. I just want to say. I mean-I was so surprised when you called me, and I want to thank you-"
"Chris," Jensen says quietly. He folds his hands on the tabletop and swallows around the lump in his throat. "That's not why I'm here."
There's just a fraction of a second where Chris looks hopelessly, helplessly, heartbreakingly confused, but then he reads Jensen's expression and gets it. His face crumples and he slumps back against the seat. It's the closest Chris has looked to crying in all the time that Jensen has known him.
Jensen pays for Chris' latte and this time when they say goodbye, Jensen knows it's for good. Chris staggers out of the coffeehouse like he's sleepwalking, dragging long sluggish limbs and stumbling on his shoes. Jensen watches him go and isn't alone thirty seconds before the manager sits down across the table.
"It's for the best," Jim tells him. There are coffee stains all over his apron and white foam in his greying beard; he looks exactly the same as he did when Jensen came in every day, a penniless student struggling to put himself through college-one that Jim would sometimes slip a free cappuccino.
Jensen stares into the sheen of the windowpane beside him, at his own reflection. It smiles at him a little sadly, because every remnant of those times is behind him now. Chris was the last piece of that lifestyle to remain and Jensen just closed that door. Letting out a big breath, he turns back to Jim, says, "I know."
-
When Jared gets home that evening, his steps are heavy and slow; the effort it takes to hang his coat on the rack looks painful. There's a definite downward twist to his mouth when Sadie pads over to him and woofs her hello; he sighs, "Hey, girl," like it's not the greeting he wanted.
"Jared," Jensen says from the couch, half-hidden behind his laptop, and Jared jumps, looks up wildly. A huge breath whooshes out of him when he sees Jensen and the weight lifts from his shoulders as if by magic.
"Oh," Jared says, voice neutral, "hey. You're still here."
"Are you surprised?"
Jared shrugs, toes off his shoes. "A little. I was sure today would be the day-you know, I'd come home and all of your stuff would be gone. But then again I thought yesterday was the day, too."
Yeah, well, it turns out the thought of not seeing you every day was more painful than knowing I can't have you, Jensen doesn't say. Instead, he clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. His cheeks are red. "You know, I. I think I might stick around."
Jared smiles, but he looks unsure, like Jensen might mean for a day or two or maybe another month. He doesn't say anything, and it takes Jensen too long to realise that he's waiting for more.
"Um." Jensen shuts his computer and sets it aside, sits on his hands so Jared won't see how badly he's shaking. He tries to think of something to say that won't give him away. "I, uh. I decided it wasn't what I wanted. That he-wasn't what I wanted." Shit. Too close, too much. "There was no way I was going to be happier with him than I am here," with you.
Jared sits down on the arm of the couch. "I'm glad you're staying. I know I already said this, but I sort of like having you here, you know?"
"I like being here," Jensen admits. He stares at his lap until Jared puts a hand on his shoulder, and then Jensen looks up without a second thought. Jared's smiling down at him, dimples in full force. His hair is a little greasy and he's sweaty and not so fresh from his long day, and yet he's still the most beautiful thing Jensen has ever seen.
I love you, he thinks. Aloud he says, sugar-voiced and over the top, "How was your day, honey?"
It's close enough.
part four