I gave in and let my Muse play with the real boys for a change. But the fiction under this cut is just that - fiction.
Jensen/Jared (with a mention of Jensen/Michael Weatherly UST):
Jensen didn’t often have a problem with the co-star thing, but he knew it happened.
Not the Nikki, Erica, Jessica, Valerie co-star thing, because that was okay. That got you good publicity if you did it right, and even better publicity if you did it wrong in the right way. That was kind of expected when you were young and even some of your male cast mates called you ‘pretty’ (if only just to tease the snot out of you).
No, the other co-star thing. Tom, Joshua, Michael… Yeah. That one. Jensen didn’t often have a problem with that co-star thing. But he knew it happened.
It hadn’t happened on Smallville, because Tom and Mike had had each other before they’d had Jensen tagging along around the set. It hadn’t happened on DC because Jensen wasn’t around long enough, though he and Josh had had a few good times while he was, just as buds. That was alright.
It had happened on Dark Angel. If you called a bunch of shit going on in Jen’s head “happening”. Mostly it was just Jensen wondering if he watched Michael’s scenes a little too closely. And then wondering, ‘Was Michael watching me just then?‘ And then feeling totally lame and disgusted with himself over the whole thing.
At least… That was all Jensen was sure about. He liked to think the little looks, the accidental touches while he and Michael were horsing around; the innuendos were all misunderstandings. ’Cause Michael was older, and engaged to Jessica even when he wasn’t engaged to her, and certainly a lot more experienced with “The” co-star thing (versions one and two) than Jensen.
Jensen didn’t count anything that had or hadn’t happened on Days. That was the Soap world, and that was sorta different. Or so he’d thought. Until Supernatural.
The thing with the Soap world was, it didn’t always let go of its own. Sometimes. And sometimes you joined a soap and you stayed there for ten, fifteen, twenty years. Which was bad if you planned on going somewhere new (though Jensen wasn’t going to rag on his soap opera background, like some actors. Michael had taught him that.) But it was good because it created a whole different environment on a soap set than your average television show.
Soap stars lived like family. They had to. They had to face the possibility of seeing one another, day after day, for way too frickin’ long. They squabbled like family members. And they supported one another like family members. ‘Cause just like with family, if you didn’t like this actor, or that actress…tough. You couldn’t really do anything about it. Or you could. But those kind of games screwed everybody up, so you didn’t last long in the Soap world if that was the way you played.
Television show sets were different. Television shows were lucky to get two years, much less ten. And unless you were a lead character, you weren’t even garaunteed that. On a tv show, if you got caught with your pants down with the wrong person, nobody was gonna cover for you. ‘Cause everybody was busy covering their own ass.
Or so Jensen had thought.
Until Supernatural.
When he met Jared. And started wondering if he was living in a frickin’ soap opera.
“Jen, you got some clean towels?”
Jared stuck his head out of the bathroom. And it was ridiculous to find him as hot as Jensen did in that moment, ‘cause it was just Jared’s head. And Jared’s head wasn’t even that sexy this early in the morning. His hair didn’t come away from being slept on looking stylish - it just looked slept on. He had stubble on his jaw that would probably be rough to touch, and he could only open his eyes so far because he was hungover, and he hadn’t yet washed his face.
Jensen thought he was hot anyway. Which didn’t bode well, to Jensen’s way of thinking.
“Huh?”
“Towels. Clean. The ones in here could probably stand up on their own if you made them. And dance, too. Dude. Have you never heard the word ‘laundry’?”
Jensen pulled a wounded face. “It’s Saturday.” Sunday was always laundry day, without fail. Jared knew that.
Jared grinned. “Whatever. Towels, Jen. If I don’t shower soon the paint’s gonna start peeling in here.”
Jensen snorted. “Alright, alright. Gimme a minute.”
Stupid Jared, getting up at… Jensen checked his bedside clock… two o’clock in the afternoon. Couldn’t he have let the paint peel in the guest room a little longer?
Jensen threw his legs over the side of his bed and groaned. Stupid architect of his stupid apartment building, connecting the master bath to the master bedroom… Sure, it sounded like a good idea on paper. But then Jared spent the night. And whenever Jared spent the night, he spent the morning in Jensen’s shower, in Jensen’s master bedroom. So Jensen had to see Jared stumble across the room, sleepy-eyed and scratching his stomach - because Jensen was never the first one up. And, conversely, Jared had to see Jensen once he got out of bed. And Jensen’s hair didn’t look any more stylish than Jared’s did, slept on. It didn’t curl cutely the way Jared’s did…
And God help him, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling like he’d swallowed something he shouldn’t have (while it was still alive and kicking) the night before, calling Jared’s hair “cute”.
Amnesiac priests and demon possessions couldn’t be far behind. Fucking soap operas.
“Jen?”
“Alright! Jeez.”
Jensen could hear Jared chuckling through the door. He threw back his covers and padded across the carpet in his bare feet. He pulled a couple of towels and wash cloths out of the hall closet and brought them to the bathroom, then knocked on the door.
“It took you long… enough.”
Jared’s voice started off normal, kinda light and playful, the way it always sounded - at two in the afternoon, or two in the morning. The freak. But it changed half-way through, and Jensen wasn’t sure why.
Of course, Jensen had his fists in his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them, when Jared opened the bathroom door. By the time he dropped them, Jared’s face was blank, so if he’d had on a strange expression - to match the strange change in his tone - Jensen hadn’t seen it.
“What?”
Jared really was a goober sometimes. Honestly. It’s what made this all so tragically funny. And Jared got goober-ish over the stupidest things. Over nothing at all. He blushed just then, and Jensen had no idea why.
“Nothing. Thanks.”
Jared closed the door so quickly, Jensen had to look behind him and make sure nothing was coming at them that Jared might have wanted to block out of the bathroom with the door.
Jensen grumbled a little, more out of frustration than irritation with Jared. He fished a clean t-shirt out of his dresser drawer, stepping over the shirt he’d had on last night. Thank God he’d had the sense to strip before climbing into bed. Whatever that was that had ended up on his shirtfront, he didn’t want to imagine it coming into contact with his new sheets. Jensen pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers, too, and headed for the kitchen to see about breakfast.
Breakfast was cooling, and Jensen was still toweling his hair after having showered (in the guest bath, thank you very much), when Jared came down, clear-eyed and clean-shaven.
Jensen kinda missed the stubble, though he didn’t miss the naughty thoughts he often had about it. Much.
“Aw. Dude, I’m sorry.”
“You are paying my water bill next month, man. I know you like my shower, but Jesus. I’ve spent less quality time with women I’ve dated than you have in that thing.”
Jared was blushing again. It would bother Jensen if he didn’t find it so gosh-darned endearing.
“Yeah. Well. That’s why I’m the only other person that uses it. That and the soap scum. I feel like I oughtta go and get tested for something.”
They brushed shoulders in Jen’s small kitchen, and Jensen shoved Jared playfully.
“Screw you.” Jared shoved him back. And mussed up Jen’s hair (more), ‘cause he knew Jensen couldn’t retaliate without looking stupid. Fucking height difference.
When they sat down to eat, Jared told him seriously, “Really. I lost track-”
“Yeah, well. No more tequila-rum-chasers for either of us. For…ever,” Jen said.
Jared chuckled. “Or until next Friday.”
“Or then,” Jensen agreed, picking up another piece of bacon.
It was easy, and comfortable, and fun. It always was with Jared. At the breakfast table. At a bar. On set. Any-fucking-where.
And that was terrible. ‘Cause it was bad enough that Jensen worried he had “The” co-star thing for Jared.
It was worse when he worried that he didn’t.
Another Friday and Jensen stopped feeling like he was living on a soap.
Even soap operas weren’t this bad. On a soap, unrequited lust eventually led to one of several places. Requited lust. With somebody, if not with the original object of affection. The character lusting after another character would make a smooth move, and get what they wanted. Or make a bad move and get punched. Or slapped. Or mysteriously murdered in the drawing room with a pen knife, if the writers so desired.
Jensen wasn’t hanging his hopes on the “requited” scenario with Jared. In fact, he tried not hoping for it all - not even thinking about it. Jensen wasn’t certain how badly he’d take getting shot down, if he ever got stupid enough to make any kind of move at all, but the signs weren’t good, so Jensen didn’t really want to find out.
Jensen had tried the “somebody” route, several times since coming to Vancouver. It hadn’t worked even before he’d realized why it wasn’t working. Jensen just wasn’t a one-night stand kinda guy. And getting himself infatuated with his co-star hadn’t changed that about him. Somehow, it had only made Jen less interested in bed hopping with casual strangers.
Jensen didn’t have a drawing room. He couldn’t really tell you what a “drawing room” was. He didn’t think people actually drew there. And he didn’t own any pen knives. But trying something with Jared, and having it blow up, would be suicide all the same. Not because Jared would be too busy covering his own ass to cover Jensen’s…no matter how freaked out, or offended or angry, or maybe even hurt, he’d get when (if - if) Jensen’s true feelings for him came out.
But because Jared wouldn’t. He didn’t have it in him to give Jensen (at best) the cold shoulder on set, or (at worst) a black eye, or the equivalent. Jensen knew that. And somehow he knew that knowing that, and knowing that Jared knew, would be so much worse than thinking - optimistically, perhaps - that Jared had no idea what kind of crap kept house in Jensen’s head.
Point in case: Friday night. Jensen had felt like shit all evening. He knew, logically, that things weren’t as bad as the insistent hard on in his jeans, and the lump in his throat, were making them out to be. And he knew that thinking so goddamned much about it was only making things worse. But-
Logic kind of stepped out the door when Jared was all loose-limbed, eyelids drooping, melted over Jensen’s couch like that.
They’d foregone their semi-regular drinking binge that evening, had caught a movie and dinner, then come back to Jensen’s place to hang out. Big mistake. Late nights alone with Jared, without liquor, were becoming more and more difficult for Jensen. And it was royally pissing him off because, Jensen just had to admit it, there wasn’t anyone he had a better time just being with than Jared.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna crash. Mind if I stay here?”
Jensen had been trying to pretend he was keeping the “feeling like shit”-edness low key, but Jared’s need to even ask that pretty much confirmed the opposite. They’d been crashing at one another’s places almost since the first week they’d known each another. Spending a little time together had seemed like a good idea then - they’d known they’d spend more time with one another in Vancouver than perhaps any other living thing. But soon a “little time” had turned into “almost every free moment”. Now it was like they’d never been shy to enter one another’s apartments without knocking. Or snoop through one another’s fridge for the last bottle of beer or a stray candy bar. It scared the fuck out of Jensen sometimes, because the show would end eventually, right? And he could assume this was gonna end with it. He shouldn’t look forward to standing in the middle of his kitchen, saying, “That little shit.” And grinning, even though he really needed a chocolate fix at the moment. He shouldn’t be dreading the day when his candy stash was his alone, and nobody else dared messing with it.
“Depends. You gonna take the guest bed again, or get a head start and sleep in the shower?”
Jared stretched out one, long leg and kicked him.
“Ouch! Bitch.”
“Prick. Enough with the shower thing already. It’s getting old.”
Jensen snickered. Messing with Jared never got old. He didn’t even have to say it - Jared read the words in his smirk and laughed. Jensen rubbed the spot on his side that had connected with the toe of Jared’s sneaker.
“Of course. Yeah. But you’re cooking this time.” Jared always ate a home-cooked meal in the morning on weekends. Home-cooked - no cold cereal or toaster pastries or something. It was as non-negotiable an aspect of sharing space for Jared, as Sunday laundry days and weekday morning coffee sprees were for Jensen.
“Deal.”
“Okay. So… Bed.” Jensen clicked off the tv - late night programming neither of them had really been paying attention to. He tossed the remote aside and stood from where he’d been lying on the living room floor.
“I could probably sleep right here. ‘s that okay?”
Jensen didn’t swallow. ’Cause it wasn’t as if he needed any extra visuals to give away the fact that Jared’s sprawl made his mouth water. Jensen had taken to wearing long, loose shirts as often as possible when it was just him and Jared. But… damn. Jared’s legs still lay spread out from when Jared had kicked him. And Jared’s arms were stretched across the top of the couch. ’Want’ was probably written across Jensen’s forehead in magic marker. He had to get out of the room fast.
“With me, yeah. Can’t say your back will you thank you for it in the morning, though.”
Jared sighed. “Right.” Jensen’s couch was pretty comfy. For Jensen. Jared never looked taller than when he was lying on Jensen’s couch. His legs wouldn’t fit unless he curled up, and Jared couldn’t sleep curled up. Jensen thought he was kind of like a gold fish - he’d read, once, that gold fish grow to their environment. No matter how much space Jared had to sleep in, he somehow took up all of it. Sleeping with Jared probably took some getting used to. No matter how you moved, in bed, there’d be Jared’s arm or leg or ass pressed up against you.
And Jensen really hadn’t needed to think that.
Jared stood, rubbing a hand over his face.
Jensen didn’t wait for him to start towards his bedroom.
“Hey, Jen.”
He was up the stairs, and halfway down the hall, when Jared’s fingers closed around his wrist.
Jensen turned slowly, heart hammering suddenly in his chest. Someone really had to warn Jared about things like that.
Don’t sneak up on people in a dark hallway at night.
Don’t stand so close when you’ve got your fingers wrapped around a guy’s wrist, and if you moved an inch or so, the two of you could be holding hands.
Don’t lick your lips when you’ve got lips like that, and the guy who’s wrist you’re holding was sneaking away to jerk off thinking about them.
“G’night,” Jared said.
“G’night,” Jensen replied. Sometimes the height difference actually worked for him. He could swallow, and lick his own lips - and bite them, too, to keep from doing something stupid with his mouth. And maybe in the dark Jared couldn’t see.
The problem Jensen had with “The” co-star thing, when he had a problem, was that it was so goddamned sneaky.
It wasn’t like meeting a girl at a party and getting her number by the end of the night. Or chatting up some guy at a game and trading blow jobs and “call me”s in the men’s room. There was a process to those things. Pretty basic, pretty simple.
There was a process to getting involved with a co-star, too, but it was different. More complicated. More unpredictable. There were starts and stops and ’Naw - I’m not gonna’s, that usually ended with Jensen realizing that, yes, he was “gonna”. Mostly because it was just when Jensen had resigned himself to backing off from a co-star completely, that the urge to back them against a wall with his mouth really hit.
It had been that way with Michael. Jensen had gone from admiring Michael’s sense of humor, to seeking out reasons to stop by Michael’s trailer between takes, to deciding he just appreciated the other man’s company… To wanting to jump Michael pretty much every time he was in the immediate vicinity. In no time flat. Michael was a total goofball when he wanted to be, and then the cameras rolled and he got that Logan Cale brood going… Michael was hot. So it was understandable.
But Jared-
Jared wasn’t someone Jensen was just “admiring” or appreciative about. Jared was… He was beyond ‘He’s hot. God, I want him.‘ The wanting him meant something to Jensen. It shouldn’t have been so easy for Jensen to let down his guard. Guarding his feelings for Jared had become a pretty involved activity. Stopping should have taken a bit more effort on Jensen’s part. And a hell of a lot more notice.
Instead, Jensen had had no idea what he was going to do until he’d actually done it.
Not the night before. Standing in the hallway, staring up at Jared’s eyes and wanting like hell to see those long lashes flutter because he’d made Jared’s eyes roll back in his head.
Not later that night. Sleeping across the hall from Jared - or not sleeping, really. Biting his lip and pressing his head into the pillow, with his fist wrapped tight around his cock, because the picture of Jared in his head was so hot, just jerking off almost made Jen’s toes curl.
Not that morning, during the absence of their usual pre-shower exchange. Jared had been in and out of the bathroom before Jensen had even woken up. He’d bundled Jensen’s laundry for him for the next day, and had carried the bundles down to the laundry room. Jensen had found out when he’d woken without the sound of running water or Jared’s bitching about clean towels. He’d gone looking for Jared and had seen the stripped down guest bed.
No, what Jensen did, he did at the least logical moment possible. ‘Cause apparently the last time logic had stepped out the door, it had decided not to come back. Jensen had left Jared alone while he was draped over Jensen’s couch. He’d left Jared alone while they were standing in the hall, and Jensen was so desperate to get behind a closed door and grab his cock, he’d almost forgotten himself and done it right in front of Jared. Jensen had left Jared alone when he’d found him at the stove, shirtless, hair still wet from his early shower (sometimes Jared forgot to towel off all the way).
As Jensen was setting plates down at the table, and Jared was walking back into the kitchen, arms above his head as he pulled on a t-shirt… Jensen’s control had snapped. It was Jensen’s least favorite of Jared’s t-shirt. And Jared was a big klutz trying to walk and dress at the same time. But somehow ugly orange shirt plus bumps into wall had translated into must kiss now for Jensen at that moment, because his lips had latched over Jared’s left nipple before Jared had gotten all the way into the room, or gotten his head through the neck of his t-shirt.
Jared stiffened. But Jensen’s left hand settled on the small of Jared’s back, and his right steadied Jared’s left elbow, to keep it from lowering. And he whispered against Jared’s skin, “Let me.” Because he could freak out later. He could kick himself til he was black and fucking blue later. After the fallout. If he couldn’t take back his momentary lapse in sanity, he would make the absolute most of it.
He licked Jared’s nipple with the flat of his tongue.
“Jen-”
He twisted his mouth, gently, with Jared’s nipple between his teeth. Not all guys got off on having their nipples played with, but Jensen liked it, so he thought that maybe-
“Fuck. Jensen.”
As soon as Jensen’s teeth left Jared’s flesh, Jared drew back. And Jensen froze as Jared yanked his t-shirt back off, so he could look Jensen in the eyes. Jensen half-consciously braced himself, because he hadn’t thought Jared would hit him if he knew the truth. But then, he’d always envisioned the truth as manifesting itself in an adult conversation, or an experimental kiss. Not in Jensen’s sucking one of Jared’s nipples like he’d like to suck Jared’s dick.
And Jared moved so fast. The shirt was on the floor, and Jared was grabbing Jensen roughly by the back of his neck, and Jensen made jokes sometimes, but the truth was that Jared could hurt him if he really put something behind a punch.
But instead of his fist, Jared came at Jensen’s mouth with his own. He kissed him. Hard and fast, so that their teeth clicked together and it stung a little.
Then Jared let go. And he and Jensen stared at one another.
“You-” Jensen started, then stopped.
“I-” Jared didn’t do much better. They’d never had trouble talking to one another. Hell, to hear Eric talk, they needed professional help, they talked so much. At that moment, they couldn’t form more than two frickin’ words altogether.
Jared breathed deep. Jensen remembered then to breathe, himself.
“Do it again,” Jared said at last. Jensen blinked.
But slowly - it felt kind of weird this way, doing it purposefully, thinking about it… Slowly Jensen pulled Jared back to him with his hands on Jared’s waist, his eyes locked with Jared’s. He lowered his head quickly, and took Jared’s other nipple between his teeth.
“Oh. Oh, yeah, Jen, fuck…”
Jared’s hand found the back of Jensen’s head.
And Jared’s back hit the nearest wall. Jensen had to stumble the two of them over to it, but it was worth the effort. Jared made the hottest sound as Jensen pushed him back and dragged his lips over Jared’s skin, up his neck and along his jaw til he’d reached Jared’s mouth.
There was less teeth this time. More lips and tongue and soft - and at the same time Jensen realized Jared’s thigh was stuck between his own, Jared realized it too and took advantage.
If he had ever needed the friction so badly in his life, Jensen was glad he couldn’t remember it, because the memory might have brought him to his knees.
He pressed his body to Jared’s, against Jared’s own hardness.
“Bed?” Jared managed during a pause in the frantic thing that could be called a kiss.
Jen’s cock twitched. Laughter bubbled up in his throat and mingled with a groan. “No way.”
Jared was moving against him. “Someplace. I-”
Yeah. Jensen brought a hand between them. He felt denim and the metal of Jared’s button and zipper, then cotton, and finally too-warm flesh.
“Yeah, Jen.”
Jen’s head fell back as Jared quickly mimicked his movements, hands shaking, and Jared’s fist wrapped around Jensen’s erection just the way his fist was wrapped around Jared’s.
“Jared, God…”
It was too soon, but it had been too long, and he wanted this too much. Jared was kissing, and licking, and nipping at the skin of Jensen’s neck, for fuck’s sake. And Jensen was breathing Jared’s name, over and over.
He pulled back, and went about giving Jared the same treatment.
His hand sped up. And up. And, yeah, so did Jared’s. And-
It was kinda like a whimper. Jensen had been imagining that sound for so long now… That sound Jared would make right…about…now. As he came hotly over Jensen’s hand. Jensen had never been quite certain what kind of sound it would be.
It was kinda like a whimper. But breathier, and stuttered at the end like a short moan.
It broke Jensen’s control to pieces. “Jared!” His orgasm hit him like a frickin’ truck.
“Jen… Jesus, Jen, I can’t believe that just happened.”
Jen could believe it. He’d been picturing it in his head too long not to. Maybe not like this… Sticky, still standing in the kitchen. He’d never been able to picture exactly what came next, but-
“Jensen.”
Okay. Yeah, they probably couldn’t stand there just like that forever.
Jensen pulled back. Jared’s eyes were on him. Jensen met them - he couldn’t not. He’d found the balls to make his move (or the courage to make the move had found him). He could face the consequences.
Jared was wearing that face he wore sometimes and Jensen couldn’t figure out. And the blush that crept across his skin at random intervals.
Maybe not so random.
Jared kissed him again. Totally soft this time. Jensen framed Jared’s face with his hands and kissed back.
They shared the shower that morning.
They talked about the thing with co-stars - male co-stars - a few days later. It came up sorta smoothly - almost casually. Jensen told Jared about Michael. Jared mentioned a crush on Tom; something short and not too sweet with another WB alum during his Gilmore Girl days.
He looked Jensen in the eye and told him he hadn’t felt like that for a co-star since.
Jensen looked back. He pulled Jared to him with a hand on the back of his neck and agreed.
Nothing even close.
[ end. ]
Jensen/Jared (with a mention of Jensen/Michael Weatherly UST):
Jensen didn’t often have a problem with the co-star thing, but he knew it happened.
Not the Nikki, Erica, Jessica, Valerie co-star thing, because that was okay. That got you good publicity if you did it right, and even better publicity if you did it wrong in the right way. That was kind of expected when you were young and even some of your male cast mates called you ‘pretty’ (if only just to tease the snot out of you).
No, the other co-star thing. Tom, Joshua, Michael… Yeah. That one. Jensen didn’t often have a problem with that co-star thing. But he knew it happened.
It hadn’t happened on Smallville, because Tom and Mike had had each other before they’d had Jensen tagging along around the set. It hadn’t happened on DC because Jensen wasn’t around long enough, though he and Josh had had a few good times while he was, just as buds. That was alright.
It had happened on Dark Angel. If you called a bunch of shit going on in Jen’s head “happening”. Mostly it was just Jensen wondering if he watched Michael’s scenes a little too closely. And then wondering, ‘Was Michael watching me just then?‘ And then feeling totally lame and disgusted with himself over the whole thing.
At least… That was all Jensen was sure about. He liked to think the little looks, the accidental touches while he and Michael were horsing around; the innuendos were all misunderstandings. ’Cause Michael was older, and engaged to Jessica even when he wasn’t engaged to her, and certainly a lot more experienced with “The” co-star thing (versions one and two) than Jensen.
Jensen didn’t count anything that had or hadn’t happened on Days. That was the Soap world, and that was sorta different. Or so he’d thought. Until Supernatural.
The thing with the Soap world was, it didn’t always let go of its own. Sometimes. And sometimes you joined a soap and you stayed there for ten, fifteen, twenty years. Which was bad if you planned on going somewhere new (though Jensen wasn’t going to rag on his soap opera background, like some actors. Michael had taught him that.) But it was good because it created a whole different environment on a soap set than your average television show.
Soap stars lived like family. They had to. They had to face the possibility of seeing one another, day after day, for way too frickin’ long. They squabbled like family members. And they supported one another like family members. ‘Cause just like with family, if you didn’t like this actor, or that actress…tough. You couldn’t really do anything about it. Or you could. But those kind of games screwed everybody up, so you didn’t last long in the Soap world if that was the way you played.
Television show sets were different. Television shows were lucky to get two years, much less ten. And unless you were a lead character, you weren’t even garaunteed that. On a tv show, if you got caught with your pants down with the wrong person, nobody was gonna cover for you. ‘Cause everybody was busy covering their own ass.
Or so Jensen had thought.
Until Supernatural.
When he met Jared. And started wondering if he was living in a frickin’ soap opera.
“Jen, you got some clean towels?”
Jared stuck his head out of the bathroom. And it was ridiculous to find him as hot as Jensen did in that moment, ‘cause it was just Jared’s head. And Jared’s head wasn’t even that sexy this early in the morning. His hair didn’t come away from being slept on looking stylish - it just looked slept on. He had stubble on his jaw that would probably be rough to touch, and he could only open his eyes so far because he was hungover, and he hadn’t yet washed his face.
Jensen thought he was hot anyway. Which didn’t bode well, to Jensen’s way of thinking.
“Huh?”
“Towels. Clean. The ones in here could probably stand up on their own if you made them. And dance, too. Dude. Have you never heard the word ‘laundry’?”
Jensen pulled a wounded face. “It’s Saturday.” Sunday was always laundry day, without fail. Jared knew that.
Jared grinned. “Whatever. Towels, Jen. If I don’t shower soon the paint’s gonna start peeling in here.”
Jensen snorted. “Alright, alright. Gimme a minute.”
Stupid Jared, getting up at… Jensen checked his bedside clock… two o’clock in the afternoon. Couldn’t he have let the paint peel in the guest room a little longer?
Jensen threw his legs over the side of his bed and groaned. Stupid architect of his stupid apartment building, connecting the master bath to the master bedroom… Sure, it sounded like a good idea on paper. But then Jared spent the night. And whenever Jared spent the night, he spent the morning in Jensen’s shower, in Jensen’s master bedroom. So Jensen had to see Jared stumble across the room, sleepy-eyed and scratching his stomach - because Jensen was never the first one up. And, conversely, Jared had to see Jensen once he got out of bed. And Jensen’s hair didn’t look any more stylish than Jared’s did, slept on. It didn’t curl cutely the way Jared’s did…
And God help him, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling like he’d swallowed something he shouldn’t have (while it was still alive and kicking) the night before, calling Jared’s hair “cute”.
Amnesiac priests and demon possessions couldn’t be far behind. Fucking soap operas.
“Jen?”
“Alright! Jeez.”
Jensen could hear Jared chuckling through the door. He threw back his covers and padded across the carpet in his bare feet. He pulled a couple of towels and wash cloths out of the hall closet and brought them to the bathroom, then knocked on the door.
“It took you long… enough.”
Jared’s voice started off normal, kinda light and playful, the way it always sounded - at two in the afternoon, or two in the morning. The freak. But it changed half-way through, and Jensen wasn’t sure why.
Of course, Jensen had his fists in his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them, when Jared opened the bathroom door. By the time he dropped them, Jared’s face was blank, so if he’d had on a strange expression - to match the strange change in his tone - Jensen hadn’t seen it.
“What?”
Jared really was a goober sometimes. Honestly. It’s what made this all so tragically funny. And Jared got goober-ish over the stupidest things. Over nothing at all. He blushed just then, and Jensen had no idea why.
“Nothing. Thanks.”
Jared closed the door so quickly, Jensen had to look behind him and make sure nothing was coming at them that Jared might have wanted to block out of the bathroom with the door.
Jensen grumbled a little, more out of frustration than irritation with Jared. He fished a clean t-shirt out of his dresser drawer, stepping over the shirt he’d had on last night. Thank God he’d had the sense to strip before climbing into bed. Whatever that was that had ended up on his shirtfront, he didn’t want to imagine it coming into contact with his new sheets. Jensen pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers, too, and headed for the kitchen to see about breakfast.
Breakfast was cooling, and Jensen was still toweling his hair after having showered (in the guest bath, thank you very much), when Jared came down, clear-eyed and clean-shaven.
Jensen kinda missed the stubble, though he didn’t miss the naughty thoughts he often had about it. Much.
“Aw. Dude, I’m sorry.”
“You are paying my water bill next month, man. I know you like my shower, but Jesus. I’ve spent less quality time with women I’ve dated than you have in that thing.”
Jared was blushing again. It would bother Jensen if he didn’t find it so gosh-darned endearing.
“Yeah. Well. That’s why I’m the only other person that uses it. That and the soap scum. I feel like I oughtta go and get tested for something.”
They brushed shoulders in Jen’s small kitchen, and Jensen shoved Jared playfully.
“Screw you.” Jared shoved him back. And mussed up Jen’s hair (more), ‘cause he knew Jensen couldn’t retaliate without looking stupid. Fucking height difference.
When they sat down to eat, Jared told him seriously, “Really. I lost track-”
“Yeah, well. No more tequila-rum-chasers for either of us. For…ever,” Jen said.
Jared chuckled. “Or until next Friday.”
“Or then,” Jensen agreed, picking up another piece of bacon.
It was easy, and comfortable, and fun. It always was with Jared. At the breakfast table. At a bar. On set. Any-fucking-where.
And that was terrible. ‘Cause it was bad enough that Jensen worried he had “The” co-star thing for Jared.
It was worse when he worried that he didn’t.
Another Friday and Jensen stopped feeling like he was living on a soap.
Even soap operas weren’t this bad. On a soap, unrequited lust eventually led to one of several places. Requited lust. With somebody, if not with the original object of affection. The character lusting after another character would make a smooth move, and get what they wanted. Or make a bad move and get punched. Or slapped. Or mysteriously murdered in the drawing room with a pen knife, if the writers so desired.
Jensen wasn’t hanging his hopes on the “requited” scenario with Jared. In fact, he tried not hoping for it all - not even thinking about it. Jensen wasn’t certain how badly he’d take getting shot down, if he ever got stupid enough to make any kind of move at all, but the signs weren’t good, so Jensen didn’t really want to find out.
Jensen had tried the “somebody” route, several times since coming to Vancouver. It hadn’t worked even before he’d realized why it wasn’t working. Jensen just wasn’t a one-night stand kinda guy. And getting himself infatuated with his co-star hadn’t changed that about him. Somehow, it had only made Jen less interested in bed hopping with casual strangers.
Jensen didn’t have a drawing room. He couldn’t really tell you what a “drawing room” was. He didn’t think people actually drew there. And he didn’t own any pen knives. But trying something with Jared, and having it blow up, would be suicide all the same. Not because Jared would be too busy covering his own ass to cover Jensen’s…no matter how freaked out, or offended or angry, or maybe even hurt, he’d get when (if - if) Jensen’s true feelings for him came out.
But because Jared wouldn’t. He didn’t have it in him to give Jensen (at best) the cold shoulder on set, or (at worst) a black eye, or the equivalent. Jensen knew that. And somehow he knew that knowing that, and knowing that Jared knew, would be so much worse than thinking - optimistically, perhaps - that Jared had no idea what kind of crap kept house in Jensen’s head.
Point in case: Friday night. Jensen had felt like shit all evening. He knew, logically, that things weren’t as bad as the insistent hard on in his jeans, and the lump in his throat, were making them out to be. And he knew that thinking so goddamned much about it was only making things worse. But-
Logic kind of stepped out the door when Jared was all loose-limbed, eyelids drooping, melted over Jensen’s couch like that.
They’d foregone their semi-regular drinking binge that evening, had caught a movie and dinner, then come back to Jensen’s place to hang out. Big mistake. Late nights alone with Jared, without liquor, were becoming more and more difficult for Jensen. And it was royally pissing him off because, Jensen just had to admit it, there wasn’t anyone he had a better time just being with than Jared.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna crash. Mind if I stay here?”
Jensen had been trying to pretend he was keeping the “feeling like shit”-edness low key, but Jared’s need to even ask that pretty much confirmed the opposite. They’d been crashing at one another’s places almost since the first week they’d known each another. Spending a little time together had seemed like a good idea then - they’d known they’d spend more time with one another in Vancouver than perhaps any other living thing. But soon a “little time” had turned into “almost every free moment”. Now it was like they’d never been shy to enter one another’s apartments without knocking. Or snoop through one another’s fridge for the last bottle of beer or a stray candy bar. It scared the fuck out of Jensen sometimes, because the show would end eventually, right? And he could assume this was gonna end with it. He shouldn’t look forward to standing in the middle of his kitchen, saying, “That little shit.” And grinning, even though he really needed a chocolate fix at the moment. He shouldn’t be dreading the day when his candy stash was his alone, and nobody else dared messing with it.
“Depends. You gonna take the guest bed again, or get a head start and sleep in the shower?”
Jared stretched out one, long leg and kicked him.
“Ouch! Bitch.”
“Prick. Enough with the shower thing already. It’s getting old.”
Jensen snickered. Messing with Jared never got old. He didn’t even have to say it - Jared read the words in his smirk and laughed. Jensen rubbed the spot on his side that had connected with the toe of Jared’s sneaker.
“Of course. Yeah. But you’re cooking this time.” Jared always ate a home-cooked meal in the morning on weekends. Home-cooked - no cold cereal or toaster pastries or something. It was as non-negotiable an aspect of sharing space for Jared, as Sunday laundry days and weekday morning coffee sprees were for Jensen.
“Deal.”
“Okay. So… Bed.” Jensen clicked off the tv - late night programming neither of them had really been paying attention to. He tossed the remote aside and stood from where he’d been lying on the living room floor.
“I could probably sleep right here. ‘s that okay?”
Jensen didn’t swallow. ’Cause it wasn’t as if he needed any extra visuals to give away the fact that Jared’s sprawl made his mouth water. Jensen had taken to wearing long, loose shirts as often as possible when it was just him and Jared. But… damn. Jared’s legs still lay spread out from when Jared had kicked him. And Jared’s arms were stretched across the top of the couch. ’Want’ was probably written across Jensen’s forehead in magic marker. He had to get out of the room fast.
“With me, yeah. Can’t say your back will you thank you for it in the morning, though.”
Jared sighed. “Right.” Jensen’s couch was pretty comfy. For Jensen. Jared never looked taller than when he was lying on Jensen’s couch. His legs wouldn’t fit unless he curled up, and Jared couldn’t sleep curled up. Jensen thought he was kind of like a gold fish - he’d read, once, that gold fish grow to their environment. No matter how much space Jared had to sleep in, he somehow took up all of it. Sleeping with Jared probably took some getting used to. No matter how you moved, in bed, there’d be Jared’s arm or leg or ass pressed up against you.
And Jensen really hadn’t needed to think that.
Jared stood, rubbing a hand over his face.
Jensen didn’t wait for him to start towards his bedroom.
“Hey, Jen.”
He was up the stairs, and halfway down the hall, when Jared’s fingers closed around his wrist.
Jensen turned slowly, heart hammering suddenly in his chest. Someone really had to warn Jared about things like that.
Don’t sneak up on people in a dark hallway at night.
Don’t stand so close when you’ve got your fingers wrapped around a guy’s wrist, and if you moved an inch or so, the two of you could be holding hands.
Don’t lick your lips when you’ve got lips like that, and the guy who’s wrist you’re holding was sneaking away to jerk off thinking about them.
“G’night,” Jared said.
“G’night,” Jensen replied. Sometimes the height difference actually worked for him. He could swallow, and lick his own lips - and bite them, too, to keep from doing something stupid with his mouth. And maybe in the dark Jared couldn’t see.
The problem Jensen had with “The” co-star thing, when he had a problem, was that it was so goddamned sneaky.
It wasn’t like meeting a girl at a party and getting her number by the end of the night. Or chatting up some guy at a game and trading blow jobs and “call me”s in the men’s room. There was a process to those things. Pretty basic, pretty simple.
There was a process to getting involved with a co-star, too, but it was different. More complicated. More unpredictable. There were starts and stops and ’Naw - I’m not gonna’s, that usually ended with Jensen realizing that, yes, he was “gonna”. Mostly because it was just when Jensen had resigned himself to backing off from a co-star completely, that the urge to back them against a wall with his mouth really hit.
It had been that way with Michael. Jensen had gone from admiring Michael’s sense of humor, to seeking out reasons to stop by Michael’s trailer between takes, to deciding he just appreciated the other man’s company… To wanting to jump Michael pretty much every time he was in the immediate vicinity. In no time flat. Michael was a total goofball when he wanted to be, and then the cameras rolled and he got that Logan Cale brood going… Michael was hot. So it was understandable.
But Jared-
Jared wasn’t someone Jensen was just “admiring” or appreciative about. Jared was… He was beyond ‘He’s hot. God, I want him.‘ The wanting him meant something to Jensen. It shouldn’t have been so easy for Jensen to let down his guard. Guarding his feelings for Jared had become a pretty involved activity. Stopping should have taken a bit more effort on Jensen’s part. And a hell of a lot more notice.
Instead, Jensen had had no idea what he was going to do until he’d actually done it.
Not the night before. Standing in the hallway, staring up at Jared’s eyes and wanting like hell to see those long lashes flutter because he’d made Jared’s eyes roll back in his head.
Not later that night. Sleeping across the hall from Jared - or not sleeping, really. Biting his lip and pressing his head into the pillow, with his fist wrapped tight around his cock, because the picture of Jared in his head was so hot, just jerking off almost made Jen’s toes curl.
Not that morning, during the absence of their usual pre-shower exchange. Jared had been in and out of the bathroom before Jensen had even woken up. He’d bundled Jensen’s laundry for him for the next day, and had carried the bundles down to the laundry room. Jensen had found out when he’d woken without the sound of running water or Jared’s bitching about clean towels. He’d gone looking for Jared and had seen the stripped down guest bed.
No, what Jensen did, he did at the least logical moment possible. ‘Cause apparently the last time logic had stepped out the door, it had decided not to come back. Jensen had left Jared alone while he was draped over Jensen’s couch. He’d left Jared alone while they were standing in the hall, and Jensen was so desperate to get behind a closed door and grab his cock, he’d almost forgotten himself and done it right in front of Jared. Jensen had left Jared alone when he’d found him at the stove, shirtless, hair still wet from his early shower (sometimes Jared forgot to towel off all the way).
As Jensen was setting plates down at the table, and Jared was walking back into the kitchen, arms above his head as he pulled on a t-shirt… Jensen’s control had snapped. It was Jensen’s least favorite of Jared’s t-shirt. And Jared was a big klutz trying to walk and dress at the same time. But somehow ugly orange shirt plus bumps into wall had translated into must kiss now for Jensen at that moment, because his lips had latched over Jared’s left nipple before Jared had gotten all the way into the room, or gotten his head through the neck of his t-shirt.
Jared stiffened. But Jensen’s left hand settled on the small of Jared’s back, and his right steadied Jared’s left elbow, to keep it from lowering. And he whispered against Jared’s skin, “Let me.” Because he could freak out later. He could kick himself til he was black and fucking blue later. After the fallout. If he couldn’t take back his momentary lapse in sanity, he would make the absolute most of it.
He licked Jared’s nipple with the flat of his tongue.
“Jen-”
He twisted his mouth, gently, with Jared’s nipple between his teeth. Not all guys got off on having their nipples played with, but Jensen liked it, so he thought that maybe-
“Fuck. Jensen.”
As soon as Jensen’s teeth left Jared’s flesh, Jared drew back. And Jensen froze as Jared yanked his t-shirt back off, so he could look Jensen in the eyes. Jensen half-consciously braced himself, because he hadn’t thought Jared would hit him if he knew the truth. But then, he’d always envisioned the truth as manifesting itself in an adult conversation, or an experimental kiss. Not in Jensen’s sucking one of Jared’s nipples like he’d like to suck Jared’s dick.
And Jared moved so fast. The shirt was on the floor, and Jared was grabbing Jensen roughly by the back of his neck, and Jensen made jokes sometimes, but the truth was that Jared could hurt him if he really put something behind a punch.
But instead of his fist, Jared came at Jensen’s mouth with his own. He kissed him. Hard and fast, so that their teeth clicked together and it stung a little.
Then Jared let go. And he and Jensen stared at one another.
“You-” Jensen started, then stopped.
“I-” Jared didn’t do much better. They’d never had trouble talking to one another. Hell, to hear Eric talk, they needed professional help, they talked so much. At that moment, they couldn’t form more than two frickin’ words altogether.
Jared breathed deep. Jensen remembered then to breathe, himself.
“Do it again,” Jared said at last. Jensen blinked.
But slowly - it felt kind of weird this way, doing it purposefully, thinking about it… Slowly Jensen pulled Jared back to him with his hands on Jared’s waist, his eyes locked with Jared’s. He lowered his head quickly, and took Jared’s other nipple between his teeth.
“Oh. Oh, yeah, Jen, fuck…”
Jared’s hand found the back of Jensen’s head.
And Jared’s back hit the nearest wall. Jensen had to stumble the two of them over to it, but it was worth the effort. Jared made the hottest sound as Jensen pushed him back and dragged his lips over Jared’s skin, up his neck and along his jaw til he’d reached Jared’s mouth.
There was less teeth this time. More lips and tongue and soft - and at the same time Jensen realized Jared’s thigh was stuck between his own, Jared realized it too and took advantage.
If he had ever needed the friction so badly in his life, Jensen was glad he couldn’t remember it, because the memory might have brought him to his knees.
He pressed his body to Jared’s, against Jared’s own hardness.
“Bed?” Jared managed during a pause in the frantic thing that could be called a kiss.
Jen’s cock twitched. Laughter bubbled up in his throat and mingled with a groan. “No way.”
Jared was moving against him. “Someplace. I-”
Yeah. Jensen brought a hand between them. He felt denim and the metal of Jared’s button and zipper, then cotton, and finally too-warm flesh.
“Yeah, Jen.”
Jen’s head fell back as Jared quickly mimicked his movements, hands shaking, and Jared’s fist wrapped around Jensen’s erection just the way his fist was wrapped around Jared’s.
“Jared, God…”
It was too soon, but it had been too long, and he wanted this too much. Jared was kissing, and licking, and nipping at the skin of Jensen’s neck, for fuck’s sake. And Jensen was breathing Jared’s name, over and over.
He pulled back, and went about giving Jared the same treatment.
His hand sped up. And up. And, yeah, so did Jared’s. And-
It was kinda like a whimper. Jensen had been imagining that sound for so long now… That sound Jared would make right…about…now. As he came hotly over Jensen’s hand. Jensen had never been quite certain what kind of sound it would be.
It was kinda like a whimper. But breathier, and stuttered at the end like a short moan.
It broke Jensen’s control to pieces. “Jared!” His orgasm hit him like a frickin’ truck.
“Jen… Jesus, Jen, I can’t believe that just happened.”
Jen could believe it. He’d been picturing it in his head too long not to. Maybe not like this… Sticky, still standing in the kitchen. He’d never been able to picture exactly what came next, but-
“Jensen.”
Okay. Yeah, they probably couldn’t stand there just like that forever.
Jensen pulled back. Jared’s eyes were on him. Jensen met them - he couldn’t not. He’d found the balls to make his move (or the courage to make the move had found him). He could face the consequences.
Jared was wearing that face he wore sometimes and Jensen couldn’t figure out. And the blush that crept across his skin at random intervals.
Maybe not so random.
Jared kissed him again. Totally soft this time. Jensen framed Jared’s face with his hands and kissed back.
They shared the shower that morning.
They talked about the thing with co-stars - male co-stars - a few days later. It came up sorta smoothly - almost casually. Jensen told Jared about Michael. Jared mentioned a crush on Tom; something short and not too sweet with another WB alum during his Gilmore Girl days.
He looked Jensen in the eye and told him he hadn’t felt like that for a co-star since.
Jensen looked back. He pulled Jared to him with a hand on the back of his neck and agreed.
Nothing even close.
[ end. ]
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