CW RPS: Take the Sky, For Example (A Canvas of a Billion Suns) (J2, R // 5/6)
Take the Sky, For Example (A Canvas of a Billion Suns)
Full header in MASTER POST.
part four
Jared never saw himself as a man rendered totally useless by a breakup, but then he hasn't seen too many. His high school girlfriend dumped him the day before junior prom, but she was such a nightmare of a person that he was more relieved than upset. After that, discounting a handful of one-night stands and unsuccessful blind dates, it was Jared and his right hand until he met Adrianne in his freshman psych class at UCLA, a full year before she transferred to San Francisco.
"We hit it off right away," he whines to Chad, curled up on the couch with a pint of double chocolate chip ice cream.
"Kenzie hated me on sight," Chad returns, hands wrapped tight around a beer.
"She complimented my shirt, said it was a brave choice. She told me I was the most fashion-conscious guy in the class."
"I threw up on her shoes and she threatened to have me thrown out of the club."
Jared wrinkles his nose. "Chad, your stories aren't making me feel any better."
Chad shrugs and reaches for another beer, discarding the empty one in the ever-growing heap at his feet. "Yeah, well," he grumbles, "I'm suffering too. I've been keeping this bottled up inside for weeks. You've been angsting nonstop for three days. Gimme a chance."
"You have not been keeping it inside." Jared stares sulkily at the TV, where the pause screen of the original Tomb Raider game is blinking at him dully. Chad suggested repeatedly drowning Lara Croft as a way of improving his mood, but so far it hasn't worked. And Jared's been at it for three hours. Now his eyes hurt and he can't stop thinking about how his momma used to say they would turn square if he watched too much television.
"I've been holding back," Chad amends, his voice mostly swallowed up by the sound of the front door flying open.
Jensen steps in, hollering a hello to Sadie. He looks especially cheery and Jared snatches the abandoned controller off the floor and turns the game back on, making sure to stare at the screen with the utmost intensity and never spare Jensen a glance. "Oh, hello, Jensen," he says acidly. "Did you have a nice time with Misha?"
Jared watches out of the corner of his eye as Jensen sobers up immediately, the smile wiped clean off his face. He hangs up his coat with deliberate slowness, confusion in every move. "Yes," he says carefully, like he thinks it might be the wrong answer. It is. Jared doesn't do more than grunt in response. When Jensen crouches down beside him, he forces himself not to react.
"Jared, I don't understand," Jensen says, barely loud enough for Jared to hear and certainly not loud enough for Chad. "You've been like this all day and, well. You've barely looked at me since I said I was going to dinner with Misha. I'm sorry that you're hurting, I really am, but I can't take much more of this. I thought you liked Misha."
Wrong, Jared thinks. "You could've at least not flaunted your boyfriend in front of me," he says instead.
Jensen's hackles rise. "That's bullshit. I have devoted each and every fucking minute of the past three days to you. Tonight, I needed to get out of the apartment. Because I am a really nice guy, I even asked if that was okay. You said yes, Jared, remember?"
"To you going out," Jared snipes. "I didn't say you could go out with him." He regrets the words the instant they're out of his mouth, but it's too late to take them back.
"So I need your permission now? Jesus Christ." Jensen rears back and stands up, arms crossed tight over his chest and eyes narrowed to slits. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous. That's how sad this is. Get over yourself, Jared."
Jared whirls on him, dropping the controller. Fury is bubbling bright beneath his skin. He doesn't even care that Chad is right there. How does Jensen not understand? "I am fucking jealous!" he snarls.
Like he flipped a hidden switch, all the anger in Jensen's face suddenly drains away, leaving him stark-white and huge-eyed and looking terrified and confused. "What?" he says numbly, staring down at Jared like he can't believe his ears. "You're-"
"Of course I'm jealous," Jared says, shooting to his feet. The three inches of height he has on Jensen suddenly seem huge. "While I mope at home over the breakup of my two and a half year relationship, you go out and forget about me so you can play newlyweds with your boyfriend of a few fucking weeks. How is he, by the way? Any less socially retarded?"
Jensen's shoulders drop. He stares at the floor somewhere behind Jared's feet. "You're an asshole," he says quietly. "I'm really sorry about Adrianne, Jared, because believe it or not, I know how painful it is. I was with Chris for four goddamn years and our breakup wasn't nearly so neat, but I'm sure I didn't take it out on my friends like this." He turns away, not bothering to wait to see Jared's reaction or for a response. "I'm also really sorry that you want to monopolise all of my time, because that's not going to happen. I have happily been your shoulder to cry on, but if this is the kind of thanks I get, you can fucking forget it."
"Some friend you are!" Jared shouts at Jensen's back. It's a dumb thing to say and he knows it, but he's never held himself together well in an argument.
Jensen snorts in disgust and grabs his coat off the rack. "I'm sleeping downstairs tonight."
"With Misha?" Jared sneers, pointlessly, stupidly- of course that's what Jensen meant. Jensen doesn't ridicule him for it, though, too busy slamming the door and stomping down the stairs. Jared sucks in loud, angry breaths until he can't hear footsteps anymore. Then he turns back to Chad and hurls himself down on the couch, grabbing for the controller like he might be planning to kill somebody with it. After a moment, he realises Chad is staring at him. "What?"
Chad puts up two hands in surrender. "You aren't going to fly off the handle at me, are you?"
Jared scowls, but his temper is gradually subsiding. "I didn't fly off the handle."
Chad rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Chill." He watches Jared play Tomb Raider for a moment and then glances at his watch, mouth moving slightly as he counts one, two, three, four…
Jared slumps over. "I shouldn't have yelled at him, huh."
Chad taps his watch, triumphant. "Five seconds," he cackles. "That's a new record, Jay-dude. You really need to practise this whole holding grudges thing."
Jared sighs. "Shit," he says eloquently. "Shit, shit, fuck, balls."
Chad gives him a brusque pat on the back and says, "There, there. Forget him. Let's watch Die Hard."
-
Jensen's back before Jared wakes up the next morning. When Jared shuffles into the kitchen to see what he can scramble into breakfast, Jensen is sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper propped in front of him and a plate of fresh blueberry pancakes. There's more on the counter, which Jared helps himself to somewhat guiltily before lowering himself into the opposite seat. Jensen doesn't acknowledge him, just goes on reading.
Jared tries not to stare, but there's a hickey just underneath the collar of Jensen's shirt, almost out of sight. Too late, he averts his gaze like he can make himself forget that he ever saw it, cheeks flooding with heat, and his eyes snag on a small bag near the door. His heart seizes with fear and he blows through two dozen apologies and reasons that Jensen really, really, really shouldn't leave before he notices the paintbrushes sticking out of it. Jensen's not packing to leave-he has a class this morning. That's why he's back, Jared thinks. He clears his throat.
"Jensen, I," he begins, his voice throaty and cracked. He coughs and tries again. "I'm sorry I said what I said."
On the couch, Chad goes on snoring, both arms wrapped around Sadie, but Jensen looks up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Jensen puts down his paper and pushes his plate away, folding his hands on top of the table. "Me too," he says.
Jared can't stop smiling, hopelessly and humiliatingly relieved. "Good," he says. "Great." Then, "You cook a mean pancake."
Jensen shrugs. "Misha made them. He said they were a peace offering."
Jared sneaks a glance down at the remains of his pancakes, caught between feeling bad and like he might want to spit them back out. He settles on saying, "Oh," and pushing them around his plate like a five-year-old. Jensen either doesn't notice or doesn't have the energy to comment, returning to his reading and giving Jared ample time to overthink what he's about to say.
"Jensen," he says after a moment, once it's thoroughly rehearsed.
Jensen looks up. His fork is drooping from his mouth and there's a coffee stain on the cuff of his sleeve. "Hmm?"
Jared has to fight down a smile, because in that second he's sure that he's never been more fond of anyone in his whole damn life. "Don't go see your brother over Thanksgiving," he says suddenly, his whole speech-complete with reasons, financial and otherwise, prepared jokes, and a backup plan involving the phrase 'take-backsies' in case anything went wrong-forgotten. "I want. I want you to be here. I want to spend Thanksgiving with you."
Jensen blinks. He's silent for a long time, just staring at Jared with calculating green eyes, and then he says, "Okay."
It's Jared's turn to be surprised. He leans across the table, going over the last minute and a half in his head to see if he both asked the right question and heard Jensen's answer correctly. "Wait. What? Seriously?"
Jensen nods. He's smiling softly, cheeks tinted pink. "Yeah. I'll stay." He shrugs, looking bashful. "I can barely afford to pay for gas to get downtown, no less to Santa Cruz."
A huge grin spreads across Jared's face and he launches himself across the table, wrapping his whole body around Jensen and knocking him clean out of his chair. Jensen lets out a terribly unmanly squeal as he goes down, but then he's laughing just as hard as Jared and the hurt of these past few days doesn't seem to matter.
"I see you guys made up," Chad says dryly, a few moments later. Jared lifts his head out of the crook of Jensen's neck and looks up; Chad is standing right over them in nothing but a pair of low-slung boxers, hands on bare hips, expression a mix of amusement and something Jared can't quite define. Before he has the chance to, Sadie appears from out of nowhere: an energetic bundle of soft fur and sandpaper tongue that buries itself in between Jared and Jensen. In her eagerness, she steps hard on Jared's groin. Jensen laughs until he gets a paw in the gut.
-
When Sandy hears about the breakup, she snatches Jared from his dressing room after the Sunday matinee and takes him to the nearest arcade. It's filled with fourteen-year-olds hammering on Dance Dance Revolution mats and fathers helping their young children shoot aliens on some faraway spaceship.
"Ta-dah!" Sandy exclaims, stepping inside with her arms thrown wide. She glances over her shoulder at him, beaming. "What should we do first? Pinball? Air hockey? Or do you want to watch me fail miserably at DDR?"
Jared looks around in wonderment. The arcade is huge-two floors of one room each, games zigzagging across a space the size of a basketball court. "It's amazing," he says, slack-jawed. Without warning, he grabs at Sandy, picks her up, and spins her. She squeals and shrieks and begs to be put down, but she's grinning and Jared buries his face in her hair, tells her, "You're amazing."
She's still giggling, face flushed pink, when he finally lets her go. She smoothes down her hair and drags him towards the air hockey tables, ignoring both weird and appreciative looks from the teenaged passers-by. "Jensen said he'd meet us upstairs in the café in half an hour," she says, "and I want to have something to show for it. Prepare for an ass-kicking, Jared Padalecki!"
Jared pauses. "Jensen's coming?"
"We've been planning this for days," she says dismissively. "It was his idea, actually; though don't tell him I told you that. He said to keep it strictly under wraps, but you know I suck at the whole keeping secrets thing." She sighs and twirls the bright red puck between her fingers. "Anyway. Here's the plan: we meet him in the café, play awesome arcade games for two hours, and then go eat a ridiculously expensive dinner! How's that sound?"
Jared shakes his head. "Sandy, this is really nice of you and all, but there's no need to spend so much money-"
Before he can go on, she rounds the table and presses a slim finger to his lips. "Not another word," she says. "We are doing this and no amount of whining will stop us. Capiche?"
Jared laughs and reaches up to take her hand. "Capiche," he agrees, giving it a squeeze.
Satisfied, she beams at him, brown eyes gleaming, and then proceeds to completely destroy him at air hockey. By the end of the first game, she's gathered a crowd of wide-eyed preteens and drooling high schoolers, and Jared is making a total idiot of himself trying to keep up and loving every second of it. He loses two to seven, and Sandy is immediately challenged by a nearby acne-ridden sixteen-year-old.
She throws a smile Jared's way. "May I?"
He steps back from the table, palms up. "Of course."
Her winning streak continues through three more teenagers and one overeager father, his two-year-old strapped into a pram a few feet away, before Sandy says it's time to go meet Jensen. "Sorry, boys," she tells her adoring fans. "We'll be back later."
They wave her off dazedly; Sandy barely waits until they're out of earshot before she turns to Jared and cackles, "I am the master!"
Jared slings his arm around her shoulders and just grins down at her in answer. They walk into the café like that, Sandy pressed into his side and Jared keeping her close. Jensen is sitting at a table near the back, a half-eaten slice of cheesecake in front of him. He stands when he sees them and a strange look flickers across his face-sort of resigned, sad-but then he's smiling cheerfully as he beckons them over. "Hey, guys," he says. "I heard you two were playing air hockey."
Sandy sits on her hands, swinging her legs back and forth. "You did?"
"'There's a giant downstairs getting his ass kicked at air hockey by a hot chick half his size,'" Jensen mimics. "I overheard the waiters talking."
Sandy howls with laughter and pumps her fist in the air. "Well, honestly. It's not my fault Jared can't protect his goal to save his life."
"But you're like a beast!" Jared complains. "So much aggression coming from someone so small."
She squawks in indignation and punches him in the arm. Her bony knuckles hurt like a mother and the amount of pain he's in causes him to sacrifice some dignity. It only seems to amuse her more, so he milks it until he catches Jensen giving him a weird look. Then he straightens up, coughs, brushes at the sore spot. "So," he says.
Sandy glances between them, eyebrows raised, and interrupts the awkward silence to say, "Wow, Jensen, that cheesecake looks delicious."
"Huh?" Jensen looks down at it as though he forgot it was there. "Oh, yeah. It's great. Do you want the rest?"
Sandy brightens, mission obviously accomplished. "Thanks!" she chirps.
His mind on what she told him earlier, Jared watches her munch on the cake for a second and then says, unthinkingly, "It was really awesome of you to put this together, Jen. Especially since you and Sandy don't know each other that well. I just. I really appreciate it. I-" A little late, he notices the looks they're giving him. Sandy is frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth and Jensen looks mortified.
They're both quiet for an instant, and then she says, "You retard!" just as Jensen stutters, "No, I, um."
Jared remembers the other half of what Sandy said: Don't tell Jensen I told you that. He feels his cheeks heat. "Oops."
Jensen turns to Sandy, bug-eyed. "I told you not to tell him!"
"I told you I was shit at keeping secrets!" she says.
Jensen sighs and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "Well, uh," he says, sliding a pink-faced look at Jared, "I figured you needed a pick-me-up and that video games and overpriced food would be the best way to do it."
Jensen insists that it's not a big deal, but on the way out Jared mobs him with a tight hug and doesn't let go for a long time.
-
Jared intends for their Thanksgiving to be a quiet one, maybe just some turkey and stuffing from the shop around the corner and an evening of old specials on TV, but when he goes to Chad on the big day, planning to subtly suggest he vacate the premises for the night, his friend has an entirely different plan.
"I already invited Tommy and Mikey," Chad says, skimming through the contacts on what Jared sees is his phone. "And I found that Sandy's girl number in your cell, so she's coming too. Oh, and I told Jensen to invite his hot friends. Even Sophia." Chad scowls, sinking further into the couch. "I can't decide whether being a lesbian just makes her hotter or if it really pisses me off."
Jared is patting him comfortingly on the back when his words sink in. He groans and drops onto the couch. "Dude, you could've at least asked before putting together a damn party. We don't have a real turkey or anything."
"Nope, I handled that too," Chad says. "Jensen's out buying food right now. Oh, and I got some mistletoe in case you wanted to make a move on Sandy. I am the fucking man."
Jared puts his head in his hands. "Mistletoe is a Christmas thing, Chad."
"So?"
Jared considers this. "Where is it?"
Chad jerks his head at the kitchen counter, and Jared pushes off the sofa and hunts it down. It's just a tiny sprig on a little red ribbon, half-crushed from lying underneath Chad's groceries for most of the day. He picks it up and thinks about Sandy-tiny, sweet Sandy, with her beautiful smile and big heart; about the way she looks at him sometimes, when she doesn't think he's looking, and he grips the mistletoe tight and thinks, Fuck it, and takes the stepladder from the closet. He hangs it from the ceiling in the centre of the room, nice and obvious.
He's standing on top of the ladder, admiring his work, when the front door opens and Jensen calls, "I'm home!"
Jared half-turns, waving, just as Sadie leaps off the couch to greet Jensen and races by, sideswiping the stepladder as she goes. Jared's hey turns into a cry of alarm, arms pinwheeling as the ladder topples. In the fraction of an instant before he hits the ground, Jared scrunches his eyes closed and prepares for the worst. Then he collides with the coffee table and everything goes black.
"Jared, can you hear me?" is the first thing that filters through the darkness, an indeterminable amount of time later. "Jesus Christ. Should we call an ambulance?"
"He's fine," says someone else-Chad, without a doubt, and belatedly he realises the other voice was, of course, Jensen's. "He and I have done dumber shit than this and he's always come off without a scratch."
"Chad. He just bashed his head on the coffee table. He's not fine."
"Then call an ambulance, princess. He's not even bleeding."
Jared opens his eyes. Jensen's face swims into focus. "Hey," he croaks.
Jensen's eyes go huge and he huffs a relieved breath. "You scared the shit out of me," he says. "What the fuck, Jared?"
Jared tries to point to Sadie, but he has no idea where she is and he's so disoriented that it takes him another few seconds to realise that his head is cradled in Jensen's lap. "It was the dog," he insists. "How long have I been out?"
Chad pokes his head into Jared's line of sight. "About thirty seconds," he says, rolling his eyes.
"Oh." Jared relaxes, hand curling absently in the folds of Jensen's button-down. He resists the urge to bury his face in Jensen's stomach and nods upwards, instead. "Well, I was up there for a good reason."
Jensen follows his gaze and looks up. His eyebrows arch even higher on his forehead. "Mistletoe? Jared, it's Thanksgiving, not Christmas."
"It was Chad's idea." Groaning, Jared hoists himself out of Jensen's lap and sits up. For a second or two, they face each other in silence, stock-still, like the world has ground to a total halt, and Jared thinks he knows why. He glances at the mistletoe and laughs shakily, his head pounding. "Pass," he says.
Jensen skitters backwards and stands, brushing off his pants. "Y-yeah," he says, and smiles, strained. "You okay?"
Jared touches his head gingerly. "Nothing's broken," he decides after a long moment.
"Yeah, but you'll be feeling it tomorrow. Or in an hour," Chad tells him, and gives Jared a hand up. Jensen has vanished into his bedroom and left the shopping on the kitchen counter, the ready-made turkey sitting proudly beside stuffing and sweet potatoes. It looks delicious, but Jared's stomach is rolling queasily. He sits down on the beanbag and struggles to keep his lunch down, knowing the blow to his head is probably the cause. Has to be.
Chad eyes him. "You want some ginger ale or something?"
Jared waves him away and lies back, closing his eyes. Barely twenty minutes pass before their first guest arrives-it's Misha, bearing a second kind of stuffing, and it's at that point that Jensen resurfaces. Tom and Mike-or, as Jensen knows them, Welling and Rosenbaum-show up next, armed with a six pack of beer ("Very classy," Jared tells them). Sandy brings up the rear with a tiny homemade cake in hand, dressed in a slinky black dress that has Jared doing a bit of a double-take. "Wow," he tells her, dumbly, when she hugs him hello.
"Oh, I know," she says, looking down at herself. "It's a bit much. But all my other dresses are at the cleaners."
"No, that was definitely a good wow," Jared says, laughing a little. He leads her to the couch and they flop down side by side, waiting for Jensen to serve up the food. As she channel surfs, he points to the coffee table and says, "I cracked my head open on that today."
"You look good for a guy with a smashed head," she replies, but then sees his expression and tuts, leaning in to examine the damage. "Poor baby. Did it knock you out?"
"For, like, two seconds," Chad cuts in, joining them. He shuts his phone with a sigh and turns to Tom and Mike, curled up on the beanbag. "Kenzie said she wouldn't come even if I paid her."
"Hmm," says Tom. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."
As parties go, it's pretty chill. It's mostly hanging out and watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, waiting on Misha and Jensen as they fix dinner in the kitchen. When they finally bring in the turkey, Jensen looks much happier than he did earlier; he's laughing and smiling easily. Misha has a hand low on his back and as they walk under the mistletoe, the platter of food cradled safely in Jensen's arms, Misha laughs and points, mutters something about it being the wrong holiday, but pulls Jensen down for a kiss anyway.
Tom and Mike whistle, and Chad pulls a face. Sandy coos. Jared looks away. She notices, elbowing him as subtly as possible. "You okay?" she asks, hushed.
"Head wound," he lies, staring down at his hands until Jensen sets a plate in front of him and he's all but forced to look up. Jensen looks worried, so Jared scrunches his cheeks in a forced smile and says, "Hey, Jen."
"Hey," Jensen parrots, now looking more confused than anything. He lowers himself into the seat beside Jared a little stiffly, one side of his mouth quirking in a weird little smile when Misha takes the arm of the couch, their hands tangling together.
Jared digs fiercely into his turkey. It doesn't taste as good as he hoped it would, though everyone else seems to be enjoying it just fine.
As the Peanuts special comes to a close, Tom and Mike make their departure. Chad goes with them, shouting something about late-night partying as the door shuts. It leaves Sandy and Jared sandwiched on the couch, talking about nothing, as Misha pulls Jensen into his room, telling him, "This year I've really got something to be thankful for."
The smile that Jared sees on Jensen's face before the door closes makes his insides twist up. There's a bitter taste on his tongue that has nothing to do with the beer in his hand.
"Jared?" Sandy says, taking her face in her hands and turning him towards her. "You've been acting funny all night. What's going on?"
"Nothing," he says, standing and tugging her up with him. She stumbles against him and he pulls her even closer. They're pressed virtually body to body, her arm caught between them. His hand is a huge, loose ring around her wrist, but she's not trying to get free. "I'm just nervous is all."
She raises an eyebrow. "About what?"
He smiles sheepishly and points upwards. The mistletoe is dangling above them, wilted a little from the long evening.
Her eyes widen. "Oh," she says.
Jared shifts his weight from foot to foot. "So I know it's the wrong holiday-blame Chad for that-but this is sort of the reason I put it up." He thumbs her chin up with his free hand, watches the blush spread across her cheeks. "Do you want to go out sometime?"
Jared knows he exaggerates a lot, but she literally gapes at him, mouth open in this adorable little O of surprise. "Really? I mean, I thought-" she starts, and then seems to catch herself. She shakes her head, dark hair whipping from side to side; when she looks back at him, she's smiling. "That is. Yeah, um. Definitely."
"Awesome," he says, and leans down and kisses her.
The floorboards behind them let out a long creak. Jared turns, Sandy peeking out from behind him, and catches sight of Jensen, frozen in the middle of grabbing something off the kitchen counter. "Sorry," he says quickly, eyes huge in his flushed face. His hair is wrecked and his shirt is buttoned up wrong. "Shit, I didn't think-"
"It's fine, Jensen!" Sandy pipes up.
Jensen nods at her distractedly, still apologizing as he backs into his room so quickly he knocks the phone out of its cradle. "Fuck," he says, immediately going to the ground to pick it up. Jared hears Misha ask if everything's okay. In lieu of an answer, Jensen fumbles his door shut, and Jared and Sandy are alone again.
"Now, where were we?" is really what Jared should say now, as he turns back to Sandy and nudges her face up to meet his. But his throat is bone-dry and he does no such thing. The look on Jensen's face is burned into his mind-shocked and embarrassed and the same something else that always, always flickers in Jensen's eyes when he thinks Jared isn't paying attention, the one that Jared can never identify.
Sandy buries herself into his chest and doesn't say anything; they stand like that, silent and still under the mistletoe, for a long time.
-
For their first date, Jared takes Sandy ice-skating. She shrieks when he pulls her out on the rink, wailing that she hasn't gone skating since high school. Jared laughs at her, but he regrets it when she does end up overbalancing and they fall in a huddle onto the ice, her cradled in his arms, his ass badly bruised. She thanks him and kisses his nose and buys him an ice pack. Jared limps home, but he still counts the day as a win-especially since Sandy comes with him, and they sit wrapped up in his grandmother's quilt in front of the television late into the night, watching old That '70s Show reruns.
The first time he went out with Adrianne, he wined and dined her at an expensive restaurant and then walked her back to her dorm, and they kissed under the light of the streetlamp. The whole night is caught in Jared's memories like a faded, black and white photograph, pristine and iconic and utterly lacking the ease he feels when he's around Sandy.
Jared sort of expected things to be different now that they're dating, but she still shoves him around and challenges him to eating contests and is her ridiculous, hilarious self. He forgets, sometimes, to introduce her as my girlfriend Sandy, but she never calls him on it. She just rests her pretty little hand on his arm and calls him dorkface and Jarhead, and smiles and smiles.
The night of that first date, she curls into his side and laughs at everything Fez says, all the while lamenting her former crush on Ashton Kutcher. They're alone in the apartment, Jensen having disappeared hours ago with Misha-Giving this yoga thing a shot, says the note on the fridge-and Jared catches himself wishing, once or twice, that Jensen was nestled in the beanbag with his sketchbook and some charcoal, running a constant, scathing narration on the lives of Point Place's adolescents.
-
"Honey, I'm home!" Jared sings as he steps over the threshold, slamming the door extra loud just in case Misha is listening from below. Or the other room. Jared peers into the hallway in search of a light under Jensen's door, but it's quiet and dark. Pleased, he scuttles into the kitchen, eyes glued to the pile of letters on the dining table. "Sandy just spent the last three hours kicking my ass at Madden," he says loudly, throwing his coat over the back of a chair. "I think my thumbs are broken. It was awesome. Is there any mail for me?"
There's no response but the muted hum of someone else's conversation. Jared turns and peeks into the living room. Misha is nowhere to be found, but Jensen, Sophia, and Danneel are sitting on the couch. Danneel and Sophia are holding hands, pressed up next to each other.
"Hey, Jared," Jensen says, as if just noticing his presence. "No mail."
Jared eyes them for a second and hangs back, not wanting to intrude. "Is this a private conversation?"
Sophia makes a pfft noise. "No," she says. "Come here, hon."
Knowing better than to disobey, he drops onto the arm of the couch and glances between them. "How's Dash?" he asks Danneel.
She smiles at him, flicking her hair behind her ear with her free hand. "He's at Riley's for the weekend," she says. Jared vaguely remembers Jensen mentioning Dash's dad, some deadbeat musician, so he nods. "But, uh. He's good. How about yourself?"
"I'm good, too," he says. "Sandy's awesome."
"Ah, yes." Danneel nods, head cocked to one side, expression inscrutable. "I heard about that."
She doesn't elaborate and it takes Jared a second to figure out that she's talking about his relationship with Sandy. Confused by her tone, he just smiles, shrugging like oh, and catches Jensen shooting Danneel a glare. The expression is wiped from his face as soon as Jared arches an eyebrow at him.
"So," Jensen says, rising. He seems a little jittery, uncomfortable, bordering on unhappy. Jared doesn't know what the hell is wrong and it's freaking him out. "I'm going to make tea. Anyone want some?"
"Tea?" Sophia scrunches her nose. "Jenny, what the hell. No coffee?"
"What can I say?" Jensen gives a weak smile, stiff and robotic. "Misha's changed me."
Danneel laughs and waves him off. "I'll have some," she says, patting Jared on the knee as if prompting him to speak. Her other hand is still wound tight in Sophia's and Jared's curiosity gets the better of him.
Resolving to interrogate Jensen later, he right to the chase and points at the girls' linked hands. "So what's up with this?"
"Weeellll," Sophia says, face shining with happiness. She sucks in a deep breath and holds it for a long second, then says in a rush, "We're together!" She runs a hand over her mouth, eyes to the ceiling like she's trying to remember exactly how it happened. "After months of being told by everyone I know, like, suck it up and just tell her, already, I actually did. It's pretty scary, you know. Putting your heart on the line like that."
Jared swallows hard, doesn't meet Sophia's eyes. She's staring at him hard now and he has no idea what she's really trying to say. Coughing, he tries, "And then?"
"I thought she was bullshitting me for a minute," Danneel admits, pink tinting her cheeks. "She broke into my house-"
"I did not break in! The door was open. It's not my fault you don't take the necessary precautions."
"-and got down on her knees with this huge, hideous bouquet. It was a totally ridiculous."
Sophia lets out a put-upon sigh. "You love it," she says.
"I love you," Danneel says, tipping Sophia's face up for a kiss. There's a certain hesitance in their touch, like there's more to the story than what was said but they're trying anyway.
Jared averts his gaze from their private moment and stumbles off of the couch as subtly as possible, heads to join Jensen in the kitchen. He makes the mistake of putting his hand on Jensen's shoulder, leaping back when Jensen whirls around like a frightened animal, eyes wide and glass-green, terrified and hurt and angry. Bewildered and dumbstruck, Jared just stares. "H-hey," he stutters, once he finds his voice. "Um. Sorry?"
Jensen's shoulders slump and he turns back to the counter, brackets himself between the fridge and the sink. "No, I'm sorry," he mutters. "Just a little. Jumpy, I guess."
"A little?" Jared gives a cut-off little laugh. He reaches out to touch Jensen again, and this time Jensen doesn't flinch away. Instead, he covers the hand on his shoulder with his own. Jared nearly chokes around the lump in his throat. "What's wrong, Jen? You know you can talk to me."
Jensen stares down at his socked feet and doesn't say anything. Just when he finally, finally looks up and opens his mouth, a shrill wail fills the air-the kettle.
"Excuse me," Jensen mumbles, stepping around Jared and beelining for the stove. He makes the tea in complete silence and Jared knows without a doubt that he just missed his only chance to hear whatever Jensen was going to say. It disheartens him; he's stuck pathetically badgering Jensen with c'mon, what's wrongs and tell me you're all rights until Sophia and Danneel bid them farewell. They squeeze Jensen's shoulder as they pass him on the way out, comfortingly, like there's some big secret that Jared isn't allowed in on.
As soon as they're gone, Jensen's grabbing his keys too.
Jared wraps a hand around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, and says, "Oh no you don't." Jensen stares, shuttered and silent, and Jared pulls him into a hug, arms like iron bands around his waist, a hand low on his back. Jared presses his face into Jensen's hair and whispers, "Please talk to me. You're freaking me the hell out, man."
Jensen huffs a ragged sigh and fits both palms to Jared's chest, pushing back. It's not a hard shove and Jared doesn't stumble, but it stings nonetheless. It only gets worse when Jensen looks at him for a long moment and then bares his teeth in a horrible fake smile. "Don't worry about it," he says, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll-be right back. I'm just going to. I have to talk to Misha."
Then he's gone, blowing past Jared without another word. Even though the door shuts behind him with a only the tiniest click, it rings in Jared's ears like he slammed it. Heart throbbing in his chest, Jared turns to the sink and stares blankly at the now-empty mugs on the drying rack.
Behind him, the door opens again and Jared whirls around, stupidly relieved. "Jensen-" he starts, but it's not Jensen at all.
Chad shuffles into the apartment, scruffier than ever, looking hungover. "I passed Sophia and her hot-ass girlfriend on the way up here," he says, yawning. "Do you think she'd be up for letting me watch sometime? I mean, she used to be straight, so." He sees the look Jared is giving him and quickly switches route from the couch to the bathroom. "Never mind. Hell of a party last night, Jay. You should've come."
"Not really my scene," Jared mumbles. He scrapes a hand through his hair and blows out a big breath. He needs to sit down for a while.
"Oh yeah," Chad calls through the bathroom door, voice muffled around a toothbrush. "I saw your boyfriend, too. He was crying all the way down the stairs."
"What?" The thought distresses him so much that he doesn't even call Chad on the boyfriend thing. "He was cryi-"
Chad sticks his head out the door, blond eyebrows vanished into his hairline. "Jesus, calm down. I'm only kidding. He did look sort of freaked, though."
Jared scowls and turns away, stuck on the image of Jensen racing down the stairs, pale underneath all his freckles, hair messed up from him unhappily running his fingers through it. Jared thinks, again, of the way Jensen looked at him before walking out.
Decision made, Jared announces, "Fuck this," and tears out the door. Chad calls after him but Jared doesn't stop, taking the stairs two at a time. He's at Misha's apartment in no time, and then his plan grinds to a sudden halt.
Jensen is in there with his boyfriend, probably getting some really sensual, stress-relieving massage. Jared didn't really think this through. He slumps against the wall beside Misha's door, breath puffing noisily through his nose from taking the staircase at a run. Maybe he'll just wait out here until Jensen's finished.
Then Jensen's voice filters through the paper-thin wall, quiet and guilty and so miserable it damn near floors Jared. He slides soundlessly to the floor and tips his head back, listening because it might be the only way to find out what Jensen is refusing to tell him.
"And now Sophia and Danneel are together and they're so happy," Jensen says, muffled like he has his head in his hands. "And I want to be happy for them, and I am, but. I'm just. Misha, I can't-"
"Jensen." Misha's voice is as calm and soothing as ever. "What are you trying to tell me?"
There's a thump of noise and then Jensen speaks again, clearer. "This isn't fair to you. It's never been. God, I'm so sorry-"
"It's Jared, isn't it? You're in love with him."
The softly-spoken words suck all the air from Jared's lungs.
"I always figured," Misha goes on, whisper-quiet but all too audible. "It's the way you look at him. Like he's the entire world, you know?"
Jensen makes a tiny, sad sound and Jared can't listen anymore. He pushes himself off the ground and stumbles gracelessly into the hallway, catching his shoulder on a sconce and nearly tripping down the front steps. He doesn't hear the front door shut behind him and his racing heartbeat drowns out the voice of a woman asking if he's all right. He has no idea where he's going, but he needs to get away.
part six
Full header in MASTER POST.
part four
Jared never saw himself as a man rendered totally useless by a breakup, but then he hasn't seen too many. His high school girlfriend dumped him the day before junior prom, but she was such a nightmare of a person that he was more relieved than upset. After that, discounting a handful of one-night stands and unsuccessful blind dates, it was Jared and his right hand until he met Adrianne in his freshman psych class at UCLA, a full year before she transferred to San Francisco.
"We hit it off right away," he whines to Chad, curled up on the couch with a pint of double chocolate chip ice cream.
"Kenzie hated me on sight," Chad returns, hands wrapped tight around a beer.
"She complimented my shirt, said it was a brave choice. She told me I was the most fashion-conscious guy in the class."
"I threw up on her shoes and she threatened to have me thrown out of the club."
Jared wrinkles his nose. "Chad, your stories aren't making me feel any better."
Chad shrugs and reaches for another beer, discarding the empty one in the ever-growing heap at his feet. "Yeah, well," he grumbles, "I'm suffering too. I've been keeping this bottled up inside for weeks. You've been angsting nonstop for three days. Gimme a chance."
"You have not been keeping it inside." Jared stares sulkily at the TV, where the pause screen of the original Tomb Raider game is blinking at him dully. Chad suggested repeatedly drowning Lara Croft as a way of improving his mood, but so far it hasn't worked. And Jared's been at it for three hours. Now his eyes hurt and he can't stop thinking about how his momma used to say they would turn square if he watched too much television.
"I've been holding back," Chad amends, his voice mostly swallowed up by the sound of the front door flying open.
Jensen steps in, hollering a hello to Sadie. He looks especially cheery and Jared snatches the abandoned controller off the floor and turns the game back on, making sure to stare at the screen with the utmost intensity and never spare Jensen a glance. "Oh, hello, Jensen," he says acidly. "Did you have a nice time with Misha?"
Jared watches out of the corner of his eye as Jensen sobers up immediately, the smile wiped clean off his face. He hangs up his coat with deliberate slowness, confusion in every move. "Yes," he says carefully, like he thinks it might be the wrong answer. It is. Jared doesn't do more than grunt in response. When Jensen crouches down beside him, he forces himself not to react.
"Jared, I don't understand," Jensen says, barely loud enough for Jared to hear and certainly not loud enough for Chad. "You've been like this all day and, well. You've barely looked at me since I said I was going to dinner with Misha. I'm sorry that you're hurting, I really am, but I can't take much more of this. I thought you liked Misha."
Wrong, Jared thinks. "You could've at least not flaunted your boyfriend in front of me," he says instead.
Jensen's hackles rise. "That's bullshit. I have devoted each and every fucking minute of the past three days to you. Tonight, I needed to get out of the apartment. Because I am a really nice guy, I even asked if that was okay. You said yes, Jared, remember?"
"To you going out," Jared snipes. "I didn't say you could go out with him." He regrets the words the instant they're out of his mouth, but it's too late to take them back.
"So I need your permission now? Jesus Christ." Jensen rears back and stands up, arms crossed tight over his chest and eyes narrowed to slits. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous. That's how sad this is. Get over yourself, Jared."
Jared whirls on him, dropping the controller. Fury is bubbling bright beneath his skin. He doesn't even care that Chad is right there. How does Jensen not understand? "I am fucking jealous!" he snarls.
Like he flipped a hidden switch, all the anger in Jensen's face suddenly drains away, leaving him stark-white and huge-eyed and looking terrified and confused. "What?" he says numbly, staring down at Jared like he can't believe his ears. "You're-"
"Of course I'm jealous," Jared says, shooting to his feet. The three inches of height he has on Jensen suddenly seem huge. "While I mope at home over the breakup of my two and a half year relationship, you go out and forget about me so you can play newlyweds with your boyfriend of a few fucking weeks. How is he, by the way? Any less socially retarded?"
Jensen's shoulders drop. He stares at the floor somewhere behind Jared's feet. "You're an asshole," he says quietly. "I'm really sorry about Adrianne, Jared, because believe it or not, I know how painful it is. I was with Chris for four goddamn years and our breakup wasn't nearly so neat, but I'm sure I didn't take it out on my friends like this." He turns away, not bothering to wait to see Jared's reaction or for a response. "I'm also really sorry that you want to monopolise all of my time, because that's not going to happen. I have happily been your shoulder to cry on, but if this is the kind of thanks I get, you can fucking forget it."
"Some friend you are!" Jared shouts at Jensen's back. It's a dumb thing to say and he knows it, but he's never held himself together well in an argument.
Jensen snorts in disgust and grabs his coat off the rack. "I'm sleeping downstairs tonight."
"With Misha?" Jared sneers, pointlessly, stupidly- of course that's what Jensen meant. Jensen doesn't ridicule him for it, though, too busy slamming the door and stomping down the stairs. Jared sucks in loud, angry breaths until he can't hear footsteps anymore. Then he turns back to Chad and hurls himself down on the couch, grabbing for the controller like he might be planning to kill somebody with it. After a moment, he realises Chad is staring at him. "What?"
Chad puts up two hands in surrender. "You aren't going to fly off the handle at me, are you?"
Jared scowls, but his temper is gradually subsiding. "I didn't fly off the handle."
Chad rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Chill." He watches Jared play Tomb Raider for a moment and then glances at his watch, mouth moving slightly as he counts one, two, three, four…
Jared slumps over. "I shouldn't have yelled at him, huh."
Chad taps his watch, triumphant. "Five seconds," he cackles. "That's a new record, Jay-dude. You really need to practise this whole holding grudges thing."
Jared sighs. "Shit," he says eloquently. "Shit, shit, fuck, balls."
Chad gives him a brusque pat on the back and says, "There, there. Forget him. Let's watch Die Hard."
-
Jensen's back before Jared wakes up the next morning. When Jared shuffles into the kitchen to see what he can scramble into breakfast, Jensen is sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper propped in front of him and a plate of fresh blueberry pancakes. There's more on the counter, which Jared helps himself to somewhat guiltily before lowering himself into the opposite seat. Jensen doesn't acknowledge him, just goes on reading.
Jared tries not to stare, but there's a hickey just underneath the collar of Jensen's shirt, almost out of sight. Too late, he averts his gaze like he can make himself forget that he ever saw it, cheeks flooding with heat, and his eyes snag on a small bag near the door. His heart seizes with fear and he blows through two dozen apologies and reasons that Jensen really, really, really shouldn't leave before he notices the paintbrushes sticking out of it. Jensen's not packing to leave-he has a class this morning. That's why he's back, Jared thinks. He clears his throat.
"Jensen, I," he begins, his voice throaty and cracked. He coughs and tries again. "I'm sorry I said what I said."
On the couch, Chad goes on snoring, both arms wrapped around Sadie, but Jensen looks up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Jensen puts down his paper and pushes his plate away, folding his hands on top of the table. "Me too," he says.
Jared can't stop smiling, hopelessly and humiliatingly relieved. "Good," he says. "Great." Then, "You cook a mean pancake."
Jensen shrugs. "Misha made them. He said they were a peace offering."
Jared sneaks a glance down at the remains of his pancakes, caught between feeling bad and like he might want to spit them back out. He settles on saying, "Oh," and pushing them around his plate like a five-year-old. Jensen either doesn't notice or doesn't have the energy to comment, returning to his reading and giving Jared ample time to overthink what he's about to say.
"Jensen," he says after a moment, once it's thoroughly rehearsed.
Jensen looks up. His fork is drooping from his mouth and there's a coffee stain on the cuff of his sleeve. "Hmm?"
Jared has to fight down a smile, because in that second he's sure that he's never been more fond of anyone in his whole damn life. "Don't go see your brother over Thanksgiving," he says suddenly, his whole speech-complete with reasons, financial and otherwise, prepared jokes, and a backup plan involving the phrase 'take-backsies' in case anything went wrong-forgotten. "I want. I want you to be here. I want to spend Thanksgiving with you."
Jensen blinks. He's silent for a long time, just staring at Jared with calculating green eyes, and then he says, "Okay."
It's Jared's turn to be surprised. He leans across the table, going over the last minute and a half in his head to see if he both asked the right question and heard Jensen's answer correctly. "Wait. What? Seriously?"
Jensen nods. He's smiling softly, cheeks tinted pink. "Yeah. I'll stay." He shrugs, looking bashful. "I can barely afford to pay for gas to get downtown, no less to Santa Cruz."
A huge grin spreads across Jared's face and he launches himself across the table, wrapping his whole body around Jensen and knocking him clean out of his chair. Jensen lets out a terribly unmanly squeal as he goes down, but then he's laughing just as hard as Jared and the hurt of these past few days doesn't seem to matter.
"I see you guys made up," Chad says dryly, a few moments later. Jared lifts his head out of the crook of Jensen's neck and looks up; Chad is standing right over them in nothing but a pair of low-slung boxers, hands on bare hips, expression a mix of amusement and something Jared can't quite define. Before he has the chance to, Sadie appears from out of nowhere: an energetic bundle of soft fur and sandpaper tongue that buries itself in between Jared and Jensen. In her eagerness, she steps hard on Jared's groin. Jensen laughs until he gets a paw in the gut.
-
When Sandy hears about the breakup, she snatches Jared from his dressing room after the Sunday matinee and takes him to the nearest arcade. It's filled with fourteen-year-olds hammering on Dance Dance Revolution mats and fathers helping their young children shoot aliens on some faraway spaceship.
"Ta-dah!" Sandy exclaims, stepping inside with her arms thrown wide. She glances over her shoulder at him, beaming. "What should we do first? Pinball? Air hockey? Or do you want to watch me fail miserably at DDR?"
Jared looks around in wonderment. The arcade is huge-two floors of one room each, games zigzagging across a space the size of a basketball court. "It's amazing," he says, slack-jawed. Without warning, he grabs at Sandy, picks her up, and spins her. She squeals and shrieks and begs to be put down, but she's grinning and Jared buries his face in her hair, tells her, "You're amazing."
She's still giggling, face flushed pink, when he finally lets her go. She smoothes down her hair and drags him towards the air hockey tables, ignoring both weird and appreciative looks from the teenaged passers-by. "Jensen said he'd meet us upstairs in the café in half an hour," she says, "and I want to have something to show for it. Prepare for an ass-kicking, Jared Padalecki!"
Jared pauses. "Jensen's coming?"
"We've been planning this for days," she says dismissively. "It was his idea, actually; though don't tell him I told you that. He said to keep it strictly under wraps, but you know I suck at the whole keeping secrets thing." She sighs and twirls the bright red puck between her fingers. "Anyway. Here's the plan: we meet him in the café, play awesome arcade games for two hours, and then go eat a ridiculously expensive dinner! How's that sound?"
Jared shakes his head. "Sandy, this is really nice of you and all, but there's no need to spend so much money-"
Before he can go on, she rounds the table and presses a slim finger to his lips. "Not another word," she says. "We are doing this and no amount of whining will stop us. Capiche?"
Jared laughs and reaches up to take her hand. "Capiche," he agrees, giving it a squeeze.
Satisfied, she beams at him, brown eyes gleaming, and then proceeds to completely destroy him at air hockey. By the end of the first game, she's gathered a crowd of wide-eyed preteens and drooling high schoolers, and Jared is making a total idiot of himself trying to keep up and loving every second of it. He loses two to seven, and Sandy is immediately challenged by a nearby acne-ridden sixteen-year-old.
She throws a smile Jared's way. "May I?"
He steps back from the table, palms up. "Of course."
Her winning streak continues through three more teenagers and one overeager father, his two-year-old strapped into a pram a few feet away, before Sandy says it's time to go meet Jensen. "Sorry, boys," she tells her adoring fans. "We'll be back later."
They wave her off dazedly; Sandy barely waits until they're out of earshot before she turns to Jared and cackles, "I am the master!"
Jared slings his arm around her shoulders and just grins down at her in answer. They walk into the café like that, Sandy pressed into his side and Jared keeping her close. Jensen is sitting at a table near the back, a half-eaten slice of cheesecake in front of him. He stands when he sees them and a strange look flickers across his face-sort of resigned, sad-but then he's smiling cheerfully as he beckons them over. "Hey, guys," he says. "I heard you two were playing air hockey."
Sandy sits on her hands, swinging her legs back and forth. "You did?"
"'There's a giant downstairs getting his ass kicked at air hockey by a hot chick half his size,'" Jensen mimics. "I overheard the waiters talking."
Sandy howls with laughter and pumps her fist in the air. "Well, honestly. It's not my fault Jared can't protect his goal to save his life."
"But you're like a beast!" Jared complains. "So much aggression coming from someone so small."
She squawks in indignation and punches him in the arm. Her bony knuckles hurt like a mother and the amount of pain he's in causes him to sacrifice some dignity. It only seems to amuse her more, so he milks it until he catches Jensen giving him a weird look. Then he straightens up, coughs, brushes at the sore spot. "So," he says.
Sandy glances between them, eyebrows raised, and interrupts the awkward silence to say, "Wow, Jensen, that cheesecake looks delicious."
"Huh?" Jensen looks down at it as though he forgot it was there. "Oh, yeah. It's great. Do you want the rest?"
Sandy brightens, mission obviously accomplished. "Thanks!" she chirps.
His mind on what she told him earlier, Jared watches her munch on the cake for a second and then says, unthinkingly, "It was really awesome of you to put this together, Jen. Especially since you and Sandy don't know each other that well. I just. I really appreciate it. I-" A little late, he notices the looks they're giving him. Sandy is frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth and Jensen looks mortified.
They're both quiet for an instant, and then she says, "You retard!" just as Jensen stutters, "No, I, um."
Jared remembers the other half of what Sandy said: Don't tell Jensen I told you that. He feels his cheeks heat. "Oops."
Jensen turns to Sandy, bug-eyed. "I told you not to tell him!"
"I told you I was shit at keeping secrets!" she says.
Jensen sighs and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "Well, uh," he says, sliding a pink-faced look at Jared, "I figured you needed a pick-me-up and that video games and overpriced food would be the best way to do it."
Jensen insists that it's not a big deal, but on the way out Jared mobs him with a tight hug and doesn't let go for a long time.
-
Jared intends for their Thanksgiving to be a quiet one, maybe just some turkey and stuffing from the shop around the corner and an evening of old specials on TV, but when he goes to Chad on the big day, planning to subtly suggest he vacate the premises for the night, his friend has an entirely different plan.
"I already invited Tommy and Mikey," Chad says, skimming through the contacts on what Jared sees is his phone. "And I found that Sandy's girl number in your cell, so she's coming too. Oh, and I told Jensen to invite his hot friends. Even Sophia." Chad scowls, sinking further into the couch. "I can't decide whether being a lesbian just makes her hotter or if it really pisses me off."
Jared is patting him comfortingly on the back when his words sink in. He groans and drops onto the couch. "Dude, you could've at least asked before putting together a damn party. We don't have a real turkey or anything."
"Nope, I handled that too," Chad says. "Jensen's out buying food right now. Oh, and I got some mistletoe in case you wanted to make a move on Sandy. I am the fucking man."
Jared puts his head in his hands. "Mistletoe is a Christmas thing, Chad."
"So?"
Jared considers this. "Where is it?"
Chad jerks his head at the kitchen counter, and Jared pushes off the sofa and hunts it down. It's just a tiny sprig on a little red ribbon, half-crushed from lying underneath Chad's groceries for most of the day. He picks it up and thinks about Sandy-tiny, sweet Sandy, with her beautiful smile and big heart; about the way she looks at him sometimes, when she doesn't think he's looking, and he grips the mistletoe tight and thinks, Fuck it, and takes the stepladder from the closet. He hangs it from the ceiling in the centre of the room, nice and obvious.
He's standing on top of the ladder, admiring his work, when the front door opens and Jensen calls, "I'm home!"
Jared half-turns, waving, just as Sadie leaps off the couch to greet Jensen and races by, sideswiping the stepladder as she goes. Jared's hey turns into a cry of alarm, arms pinwheeling as the ladder topples. In the fraction of an instant before he hits the ground, Jared scrunches his eyes closed and prepares for the worst. Then he collides with the coffee table and everything goes black.
"Jared, can you hear me?" is the first thing that filters through the darkness, an indeterminable amount of time later. "Jesus Christ. Should we call an ambulance?"
"He's fine," says someone else-Chad, without a doubt, and belatedly he realises the other voice was, of course, Jensen's. "He and I have done dumber shit than this and he's always come off without a scratch."
"Chad. He just bashed his head on the coffee table. He's not fine."
"Then call an ambulance, princess. He's not even bleeding."
Jared opens his eyes. Jensen's face swims into focus. "Hey," he croaks.
Jensen's eyes go huge and he huffs a relieved breath. "You scared the shit out of me," he says. "What the fuck, Jared?"
Jared tries to point to Sadie, but he has no idea where she is and he's so disoriented that it takes him another few seconds to realise that his head is cradled in Jensen's lap. "It was the dog," he insists. "How long have I been out?"
Chad pokes his head into Jared's line of sight. "About thirty seconds," he says, rolling his eyes.
"Oh." Jared relaxes, hand curling absently in the folds of Jensen's button-down. He resists the urge to bury his face in Jensen's stomach and nods upwards, instead. "Well, I was up there for a good reason."
Jensen follows his gaze and looks up. His eyebrows arch even higher on his forehead. "Mistletoe? Jared, it's Thanksgiving, not Christmas."
"It was Chad's idea." Groaning, Jared hoists himself out of Jensen's lap and sits up. For a second or two, they face each other in silence, stock-still, like the world has ground to a total halt, and Jared thinks he knows why. He glances at the mistletoe and laughs shakily, his head pounding. "Pass," he says.
Jensen skitters backwards and stands, brushing off his pants. "Y-yeah," he says, and smiles, strained. "You okay?"
Jared touches his head gingerly. "Nothing's broken," he decides after a long moment.
"Yeah, but you'll be feeling it tomorrow. Or in an hour," Chad tells him, and gives Jared a hand up. Jensen has vanished into his bedroom and left the shopping on the kitchen counter, the ready-made turkey sitting proudly beside stuffing and sweet potatoes. It looks delicious, but Jared's stomach is rolling queasily. He sits down on the beanbag and struggles to keep his lunch down, knowing the blow to his head is probably the cause. Has to be.
Chad eyes him. "You want some ginger ale or something?"
Jared waves him away and lies back, closing his eyes. Barely twenty minutes pass before their first guest arrives-it's Misha, bearing a second kind of stuffing, and it's at that point that Jensen resurfaces. Tom and Mike-or, as Jensen knows them, Welling and Rosenbaum-show up next, armed with a six pack of beer ("Very classy," Jared tells them). Sandy brings up the rear with a tiny homemade cake in hand, dressed in a slinky black dress that has Jared doing a bit of a double-take. "Wow," he tells her, dumbly, when she hugs him hello.
"Oh, I know," she says, looking down at herself. "It's a bit much. But all my other dresses are at the cleaners."
"No, that was definitely a good wow," Jared says, laughing a little. He leads her to the couch and they flop down side by side, waiting for Jensen to serve up the food. As she channel surfs, he points to the coffee table and says, "I cracked my head open on that today."
"You look good for a guy with a smashed head," she replies, but then sees his expression and tuts, leaning in to examine the damage. "Poor baby. Did it knock you out?"
"For, like, two seconds," Chad cuts in, joining them. He shuts his phone with a sigh and turns to Tom and Mike, curled up on the beanbag. "Kenzie said she wouldn't come even if I paid her."
"Hmm," says Tom. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."
As parties go, it's pretty chill. It's mostly hanging out and watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, waiting on Misha and Jensen as they fix dinner in the kitchen. When they finally bring in the turkey, Jensen looks much happier than he did earlier; he's laughing and smiling easily. Misha has a hand low on his back and as they walk under the mistletoe, the platter of food cradled safely in Jensen's arms, Misha laughs and points, mutters something about it being the wrong holiday, but pulls Jensen down for a kiss anyway.
Tom and Mike whistle, and Chad pulls a face. Sandy coos. Jared looks away. She notices, elbowing him as subtly as possible. "You okay?" she asks, hushed.
"Head wound," he lies, staring down at his hands until Jensen sets a plate in front of him and he's all but forced to look up. Jensen looks worried, so Jared scrunches his cheeks in a forced smile and says, "Hey, Jen."
"Hey," Jensen parrots, now looking more confused than anything. He lowers himself into the seat beside Jared a little stiffly, one side of his mouth quirking in a weird little smile when Misha takes the arm of the couch, their hands tangling together.
Jared digs fiercely into his turkey. It doesn't taste as good as he hoped it would, though everyone else seems to be enjoying it just fine.
As the Peanuts special comes to a close, Tom and Mike make their departure. Chad goes with them, shouting something about late-night partying as the door shuts. It leaves Sandy and Jared sandwiched on the couch, talking about nothing, as Misha pulls Jensen into his room, telling him, "This year I've really got something to be thankful for."
The smile that Jared sees on Jensen's face before the door closes makes his insides twist up. There's a bitter taste on his tongue that has nothing to do with the beer in his hand.
"Jared?" Sandy says, taking her face in her hands and turning him towards her. "You've been acting funny all night. What's going on?"
"Nothing," he says, standing and tugging her up with him. She stumbles against him and he pulls her even closer. They're pressed virtually body to body, her arm caught between them. His hand is a huge, loose ring around her wrist, but she's not trying to get free. "I'm just nervous is all."
She raises an eyebrow. "About what?"
He smiles sheepishly and points upwards. The mistletoe is dangling above them, wilted a little from the long evening.
Her eyes widen. "Oh," she says.
Jared shifts his weight from foot to foot. "So I know it's the wrong holiday-blame Chad for that-but this is sort of the reason I put it up." He thumbs her chin up with his free hand, watches the blush spread across her cheeks. "Do you want to go out sometime?"
Jared knows he exaggerates a lot, but she literally gapes at him, mouth open in this adorable little O of surprise. "Really? I mean, I thought-" she starts, and then seems to catch herself. She shakes her head, dark hair whipping from side to side; when she looks back at him, she's smiling. "That is. Yeah, um. Definitely."
"Awesome," he says, and leans down and kisses her.
The floorboards behind them let out a long creak. Jared turns, Sandy peeking out from behind him, and catches sight of Jensen, frozen in the middle of grabbing something off the kitchen counter. "Sorry," he says quickly, eyes huge in his flushed face. His hair is wrecked and his shirt is buttoned up wrong. "Shit, I didn't think-"
"It's fine, Jensen!" Sandy pipes up.
Jensen nods at her distractedly, still apologizing as he backs into his room so quickly he knocks the phone out of its cradle. "Fuck," he says, immediately going to the ground to pick it up. Jared hears Misha ask if everything's okay. In lieu of an answer, Jensen fumbles his door shut, and Jared and Sandy are alone again.
"Now, where were we?" is really what Jared should say now, as he turns back to Sandy and nudges her face up to meet his. But his throat is bone-dry and he does no such thing. The look on Jensen's face is burned into his mind-shocked and embarrassed and the same something else that always, always flickers in Jensen's eyes when he thinks Jared isn't paying attention, the one that Jared can never identify.
Sandy buries herself into his chest and doesn't say anything; they stand like that, silent and still under the mistletoe, for a long time.
-
For their first date, Jared takes Sandy ice-skating. She shrieks when he pulls her out on the rink, wailing that she hasn't gone skating since high school. Jared laughs at her, but he regrets it when she does end up overbalancing and they fall in a huddle onto the ice, her cradled in his arms, his ass badly bruised. She thanks him and kisses his nose and buys him an ice pack. Jared limps home, but he still counts the day as a win-especially since Sandy comes with him, and they sit wrapped up in his grandmother's quilt in front of the television late into the night, watching old That '70s Show reruns.
The first time he went out with Adrianne, he wined and dined her at an expensive restaurant and then walked her back to her dorm, and they kissed under the light of the streetlamp. The whole night is caught in Jared's memories like a faded, black and white photograph, pristine and iconic and utterly lacking the ease he feels when he's around Sandy.
Jared sort of expected things to be different now that they're dating, but she still shoves him around and challenges him to eating contests and is her ridiculous, hilarious self. He forgets, sometimes, to introduce her as my girlfriend Sandy, but she never calls him on it. She just rests her pretty little hand on his arm and calls him dorkface and Jarhead, and smiles and smiles.
The night of that first date, she curls into his side and laughs at everything Fez says, all the while lamenting her former crush on Ashton Kutcher. They're alone in the apartment, Jensen having disappeared hours ago with Misha-Giving this yoga thing a shot, says the note on the fridge-and Jared catches himself wishing, once or twice, that Jensen was nestled in the beanbag with his sketchbook and some charcoal, running a constant, scathing narration on the lives of Point Place's adolescents.
-
"Honey, I'm home!" Jared sings as he steps over the threshold, slamming the door extra loud just in case Misha is listening from below. Or the other room. Jared peers into the hallway in search of a light under Jensen's door, but it's quiet and dark. Pleased, he scuttles into the kitchen, eyes glued to the pile of letters on the dining table. "Sandy just spent the last three hours kicking my ass at Madden," he says loudly, throwing his coat over the back of a chair. "I think my thumbs are broken. It was awesome. Is there any mail for me?"
There's no response but the muted hum of someone else's conversation. Jared turns and peeks into the living room. Misha is nowhere to be found, but Jensen, Sophia, and Danneel are sitting on the couch. Danneel and Sophia are holding hands, pressed up next to each other.
"Hey, Jared," Jensen says, as if just noticing his presence. "No mail."
Jared eyes them for a second and hangs back, not wanting to intrude. "Is this a private conversation?"
Sophia makes a pfft noise. "No," she says. "Come here, hon."
Knowing better than to disobey, he drops onto the arm of the couch and glances between them. "How's Dash?" he asks Danneel.
She smiles at him, flicking her hair behind her ear with her free hand. "He's at Riley's for the weekend," she says. Jared vaguely remembers Jensen mentioning Dash's dad, some deadbeat musician, so he nods. "But, uh. He's good. How about yourself?"
"I'm good, too," he says. "Sandy's awesome."
"Ah, yes." Danneel nods, head cocked to one side, expression inscrutable. "I heard about that."
She doesn't elaborate and it takes Jared a second to figure out that she's talking about his relationship with Sandy. Confused by her tone, he just smiles, shrugging like oh, and catches Jensen shooting Danneel a glare. The expression is wiped from his face as soon as Jared arches an eyebrow at him.
"So," Jensen says, rising. He seems a little jittery, uncomfortable, bordering on unhappy. Jared doesn't know what the hell is wrong and it's freaking him out. "I'm going to make tea. Anyone want some?"
"Tea?" Sophia scrunches her nose. "Jenny, what the hell. No coffee?"
"What can I say?" Jensen gives a weak smile, stiff and robotic. "Misha's changed me."
Danneel laughs and waves him off. "I'll have some," she says, patting Jared on the knee as if prompting him to speak. Her other hand is still wound tight in Sophia's and Jared's curiosity gets the better of him.
Resolving to interrogate Jensen later, he right to the chase and points at the girls' linked hands. "So what's up with this?"
"Weeellll," Sophia says, face shining with happiness. She sucks in a deep breath and holds it for a long second, then says in a rush, "We're together!" She runs a hand over her mouth, eyes to the ceiling like she's trying to remember exactly how it happened. "After months of being told by everyone I know, like, suck it up and just tell her, already, I actually did. It's pretty scary, you know. Putting your heart on the line like that."
Jared swallows hard, doesn't meet Sophia's eyes. She's staring at him hard now and he has no idea what she's really trying to say. Coughing, he tries, "And then?"
"I thought she was bullshitting me for a minute," Danneel admits, pink tinting her cheeks. "She broke into my house-"
"I did not break in! The door was open. It's not my fault you don't take the necessary precautions."
"-and got down on her knees with this huge, hideous bouquet. It was a totally ridiculous."
Sophia lets out a put-upon sigh. "You love it," she says.
"I love you," Danneel says, tipping Sophia's face up for a kiss. There's a certain hesitance in their touch, like there's more to the story than what was said but they're trying anyway.
Jared averts his gaze from their private moment and stumbles off of the couch as subtly as possible, heads to join Jensen in the kitchen. He makes the mistake of putting his hand on Jensen's shoulder, leaping back when Jensen whirls around like a frightened animal, eyes wide and glass-green, terrified and hurt and angry. Bewildered and dumbstruck, Jared just stares. "H-hey," he stutters, once he finds his voice. "Um. Sorry?"
Jensen's shoulders slump and he turns back to the counter, brackets himself between the fridge and the sink. "No, I'm sorry," he mutters. "Just a little. Jumpy, I guess."
"A little?" Jared gives a cut-off little laugh. He reaches out to touch Jensen again, and this time Jensen doesn't flinch away. Instead, he covers the hand on his shoulder with his own. Jared nearly chokes around the lump in his throat. "What's wrong, Jen? You know you can talk to me."
Jensen stares down at his socked feet and doesn't say anything. Just when he finally, finally looks up and opens his mouth, a shrill wail fills the air-the kettle.
"Excuse me," Jensen mumbles, stepping around Jared and beelining for the stove. He makes the tea in complete silence and Jared knows without a doubt that he just missed his only chance to hear whatever Jensen was going to say. It disheartens him; he's stuck pathetically badgering Jensen with c'mon, what's wrongs and tell me you're all rights until Sophia and Danneel bid them farewell. They squeeze Jensen's shoulder as they pass him on the way out, comfortingly, like there's some big secret that Jared isn't allowed in on.
As soon as they're gone, Jensen's grabbing his keys too.
Jared wraps a hand around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, and says, "Oh no you don't." Jensen stares, shuttered and silent, and Jared pulls him into a hug, arms like iron bands around his waist, a hand low on his back. Jared presses his face into Jensen's hair and whispers, "Please talk to me. You're freaking me the hell out, man."
Jensen huffs a ragged sigh and fits both palms to Jared's chest, pushing back. It's not a hard shove and Jared doesn't stumble, but it stings nonetheless. It only gets worse when Jensen looks at him for a long moment and then bares his teeth in a horrible fake smile. "Don't worry about it," he says, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll-be right back. I'm just going to. I have to talk to Misha."
Then he's gone, blowing past Jared without another word. Even though the door shuts behind him with a only the tiniest click, it rings in Jared's ears like he slammed it. Heart throbbing in his chest, Jared turns to the sink and stares blankly at the now-empty mugs on the drying rack.
Behind him, the door opens again and Jared whirls around, stupidly relieved. "Jensen-" he starts, but it's not Jensen at all.
Chad shuffles into the apartment, scruffier than ever, looking hungover. "I passed Sophia and her hot-ass girlfriend on the way up here," he says, yawning. "Do you think she'd be up for letting me watch sometime? I mean, she used to be straight, so." He sees the look Jared is giving him and quickly switches route from the couch to the bathroom. "Never mind. Hell of a party last night, Jay. You should've come."
"Not really my scene," Jared mumbles. He scrapes a hand through his hair and blows out a big breath. He needs to sit down for a while.
"Oh yeah," Chad calls through the bathroom door, voice muffled around a toothbrush. "I saw your boyfriend, too. He was crying all the way down the stairs."
"What?" The thought distresses him so much that he doesn't even call Chad on the boyfriend thing. "He was cryi-"
Chad sticks his head out the door, blond eyebrows vanished into his hairline. "Jesus, calm down. I'm only kidding. He did look sort of freaked, though."
Jared scowls and turns away, stuck on the image of Jensen racing down the stairs, pale underneath all his freckles, hair messed up from him unhappily running his fingers through it. Jared thinks, again, of the way Jensen looked at him before walking out.
Decision made, Jared announces, "Fuck this," and tears out the door. Chad calls after him but Jared doesn't stop, taking the stairs two at a time. He's at Misha's apartment in no time, and then his plan grinds to a sudden halt.
Jensen is in there with his boyfriend, probably getting some really sensual, stress-relieving massage. Jared didn't really think this through. He slumps against the wall beside Misha's door, breath puffing noisily through his nose from taking the staircase at a run. Maybe he'll just wait out here until Jensen's finished.
Then Jensen's voice filters through the paper-thin wall, quiet and guilty and so miserable it damn near floors Jared. He slides soundlessly to the floor and tips his head back, listening because it might be the only way to find out what Jensen is refusing to tell him.
"And now Sophia and Danneel are together and they're so happy," Jensen says, muffled like he has his head in his hands. "And I want to be happy for them, and I am, but. I'm just. Misha, I can't-"
"Jensen." Misha's voice is as calm and soothing as ever. "What are you trying to tell me?"
There's a thump of noise and then Jensen speaks again, clearer. "This isn't fair to you. It's never been. God, I'm so sorry-"
"It's Jared, isn't it? You're in love with him."
The softly-spoken words suck all the air from Jared's lungs.
"I always figured," Misha goes on, whisper-quiet but all too audible. "It's the way you look at him. Like he's the entire world, you know?"
Jensen makes a tiny, sad sound and Jared can't listen anymore. He pushes himself off the ground and stumbles gracelessly into the hallway, catching his shoulder on a sconce and nearly tripping down the front steps. He doesn't hear the front door shut behind him and his racing heartbeat drowns out the voice of a woman asking if he's all right. He has no idea where he's going, but he needs to get away.
part six