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Five People Jensen Never Expected to Wind Up In Bed With
Five People Jensen Never Expected to Wind Up In Bed With
CWrpf
Pairing: Jared/Jensen, plus a few extras
Rating: Adult, mild kink
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't know anything about anyone...
Sequel to Five People Jared Never Expected to Wind Up In Bed With and it probably won't make much sense without reading that one first.
-i-
Everyone thought Jensen and Steve were fucking the whole time they were living together--but everyone was wrong. Jensen sure as hell didn't have anything against hooking up with a friend occasionally, and God knew he loved Steve, but the timing was never right. Or something.
Chris got all up in Steve's face about it once, after the three of them had been smoking and messing around with a couple of songs. As far as Jensen could follow, Chris was offended that they didn't trust him enough to tell him, like they thought he was some homophobic redneck who'd flip out on them.
Steve had looked across the room at Jensen and smiled. "Nothing to tell, bro," he'd laughed, shaking his head. "Not yet, anyway."
Jensen had grinned back and sworn on Chris's guitar--about the only thing Chris held sacred--that he'd be the first one to know. The next day, they blamed the whole conversation on the weed and Chris never mentioned it again.
It wasn't until Jensen got Smallville and Steve managed to fly up to Vancouver for a couple of days that anything happened. Maybe it was the different city or maybe it was the weather, low clouds and misting rain, or maybe the timing was just finally right, but Steve walked into the suite Jensen was living out of and put his guitar down and they didn't walk back out until it was time for his flight back to LA.
-ii-
It wasn't that Jensen didn't expect to wind up fucking Jeff--because that was a foregone conclusion about three minutes after they met in the production office. What surprised him was that they kept on hooking up after they finished with the pilot. Nothing big, nothing settled, just the occasional phone call or Lakers game or--Jensen's personal favorite--the random text that was nothing more than a hotel address and room number.
Underneath it all, Jensen liked hanging out with Jeff, and not just for the motherfucking awesome sex. He was easy to talk to, always ready to laugh at himself or the business, with a twisted sense of humor to go along with his ever-so-slightly bent preferences in bed. Jensen wasn't sure which one he enjoyed more, if only because dealing with Jeff's cracked-out idea of a joke didn't involve brazening out the knowing looks from make-up as they covered the visible bruises and bite marks.
-iii-
Jared was such a spectacularly bad idea that Jensen almost didn't have a problem with keeping things on a friends-only basis. If there were times when he jerked off thinking about how it would feel if it were Jared's hands--big, rough, hot--instead of his own wrapped around his dick, it was simple enough to run through all the ways things could blow up around them and keep it nothing more than a fantasy.
The problem wasn't his dick. It was so much worse than that. It was every time Jared stood off-camera and laughed until the entire crew gave up and joined him. It was the phone call every time they had an early call, to make sure Jensen hadn't slept through another alarm, and the way Jared genuinely smiled at whoever Jensen brought to parties and then spent the next week giving Jensen no end of shit about the flavor of the week. But mostly, it was the way Jensen could see Jared swallowing hard when they forgot and stood too close and how dark Jared's eyes were when he finally dragged everything out into the open, right before Jensen leaned in and kissed him.
Jensen could still pretend it was just a thing, though, right up until the night he let Jeff lay him out and take him apart with Jared sitting right there watching. Jeff had him so strung out he didn't know anything but what that low growl told him, and Jared, Jared just crossed over to him and rubbed one big hand, slow and nasty, over Jensen's ass, covered Jensen's mouth with his own and took in every noise Jensen couldn't keep from making.
Jensen was screwed, so fucking screwed, and it was his own damn fault for letting Jared in that deep. Totally screwed and there was nothing he could do about it, even if he could convince himself he wanted to try.
-iv-
Tom wasn't big on hitting the nightlife, but Mike? Was an entirely different story. It didn't matter how late Jensen wrapped for the night, or how early anyone's calls were the next day, if Jensen got on the phone, Mike was up for it. And he was the perfect partner--all Jensen had to do was sit back and let Mr. Personality break the ice, and then flash a smile, a quiet one, one of the ones that would have his mama's eyes narrowed and a wooden spoon in her hand if she could see it, and he was golden.
There were rules, of course. Jensen always had rules for himself, goals he'd set, standards he never shared with anyone but that he always challenged himself to beat. Just because he'd broken one of his oldest ones for Jared--and gotten the swift kick in the teeth that reminded him why he'd laid it down in the first place, goddamned gorgeous smiles notwithstanding--didn't mean he couldn't get right back in the saddle again. Especially when it was as simple as not leaving until he had the best, the one person who stood out in the crowd, the one everyone else wanted to be near. It didn't matter if they were clubbing or shooting pool or at a gallery opening, he'd know within five minutes who he wanted. And when Jensen wanted something, he always got it, even if it ended up boring him to death.
And then Mike bailed on him one night, leaving him with a full round of party favors--Mike was nothing if not generous with his stash--and he couldn't talk himself out of ending up at Jared's. And of course, of course, he'd fucked half of Vancouver and couldn't be bothered to remember a thing, but even half-drunk on the bourbon Jeff had left behind and more than a little high on Mike's weed, he woke up the next morning and knew every last second in exquisite detail, everything from the taste of Jared's blood in his mouth to the feel of Jared's hands on his hips, holding him in place while Jared fucked up into him.
Fifteen minutes of Jared's cock up his ass and he was right back to watching Jared follow Chad out of that party, except this time when he got out of the car in the middle of the new week's version of Nowhere, British Columbia, instead of guilt and shame, Jared's eyes slid over him with nothing in them, flat and cold and distant, and fuck if that wasn't like gasoline on the fire.
Jensen wasn't sure how they managed to avoid a major reaming-out by everyone from the local crew right up to Eric and Bob; he thought it might have had something to do with Sam and Dean barely speaking and everyone convincing themselves that he and Jared were in some method-acting suicide pact. Denial was a great thing, especially when it meant you didn't have to deal with whether the talent was fucking or fighting.
The stunt guys knew, though. Eddy always had someone in the gym with them when they were sparring or working out the big fight choreography. Jensen was tempted to tell him off more than once, but the one remaining sane bit of his brain pointed out that he really wasn't keeping shit as under control as he liked to pretend, and even if he was, the odds were pretty likely that Jared wasn't, because he sure as hell wasn't missing many opportunities to take Jensen down.
Tom came out with him and Mike one night, which surprised Jensen, until he realized Mike had set him up, that Tom was there to be the voice of reason. Steve called a couple of times; Jeff watched him through narrowed eyes when he was on-set; and then Chris showed up at his door and Jensen pretty much had had it.
Chris, of course, could have cared less. "You're being an ass, Ackles."
"Fuck you, Kane."
"Oh, hell, no, son." Chris had the most motherfucking annoying redneck drawl on the planet. "Even if I was into dick, yours has been so many places lately that it ain't getting near mine."
He had the smirk to go along with the drawl and Jensen finally just shook his head. "If I close my eyes, will you still be there when I open them again?"
"What do you think, Jenny?" Chris snorted.
Jensen sighed. "I think you'd be in my house drinking all my booze." He turned around to walk back into the living room. Chris was gonna do whatever he wanted anyway; Jensen didn't see the need to waste any energy trying to stop him.
Chris slung an arm around his shoulder and grinned. "I probably wouldn't have resisted the temptation to knock you on your ass when I went by either."
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't hit the ground fifty times today already," he muttered, shrugging when Chris looked questioningly at him. "This fight sequence is gonna kill me," he said out loud instead.
Chris was smirking again and Jensen really didn't want to get into it. At all. "Look, I was on my way out," he said. "So..."
"Shoot, boy, you don't have to ask me twice."
Jensen hadn't expected Chris to take the hint, so, yeah, whatever. Chris was a big boy; Jensen didn't plan on babysitting anyone, and if Chris didn't like the way Jensen spent his nights, it was too fucking bad for him.
Jensen still picked the most techno club in the city, just for the fun of watching Chris deal with the trance beats. Twenty minutes after they walked in, though, Chris had a tall brunette draped over him, one perfectly manicured nail tracing along the curve of his arm. Ten minutes after that, he was leaning in close to growl under the music, "She's looking for a two-for-one, Jenny-boy. You up for that?" and Jensen heard himself agreeing.
It was easy to crawl into a cab with them, passing her back and forth; simple to fall onto the king-sized bed in Chris's hotel room. Chris had a filthy low growl and he never shut up, just talked all of them through the logistics of clothes and angles and condoms, until they were curved into each other, tangled together on the rumpled sheets and Jensen was balls-deep in her ass, feeling Chris moving in counterpoint, inside her, too, rocking her slowly between them.
"Yeah, baby," Chris murmured when she moaned, his voice gone rough and used. "He feel good inside you like that?" He pressed her back, forcing Jensen deeper into her, laughing when Jensen hissed and swore. "C'mon, baby," Chris whispered, licking into her mouth, sliding his hand into the tangle of legs. "You and me, let's make him scream."
Jensen held out through Chris fingering her rough and nasty, getting her off the first time, through her body tightening around his, but then he didn't stop, didn't even slow down, just kept on pushing her, telling her they weren't done yet, Jensen hadn't come, they weren't stopping until he did. She came again, clawing and shaking, and brought Jensen off with her. He buried his face in the back of her neck so no one would hear anything he didn't want them to and managed to hold her hips steady for Chris.
The bed was warm and Jensen was as fucked-out lazy as he'd been in a long time, but he didn't spend the night--another rule--so he forced himself to roll off the edge and find his clothes.
Chris grumbled something unintelligible; Jensen answered, softly because he was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep and it would be a hell of a lot less hassle if he got out of the room without a good-bye scene, "Early call, man. Gonna go home and shower."
Chris opened one eye and sighed, shifting around until he could reach his jeans.
"Nice," he said, following Jensen. "That your standard excuse for bailing?" He stopped in the hall with one foot propping open the door. "It probably works better on people who don't know the union rules."
Jensen turned back. "Why exactly do you care, Chris? I mean, let's be straight here. Do you even know her name?"
"Jana," Chris said. "Grad student in musicology at UBC. Grew up out in the country. That tight, sweet ass you seemed to like a whole lot? She got that from cross-country skiing."
"Anybody ever tell you you're a pig, Kane?"
Chris shrugged. "I'm not the one slinking off down the hall with a pretty lie all polished up nice and shiny."
"Nah," Jensen shot back. "You're just the one who set it all up."
"From where I'm standing, all I'm seein' are consenting adults, and two of the three of us don't seem to have a problem with having a little fun."
"You done yet?"
"Not quite." Chris yawned and rubbed his face. "Aw, hell, what's the point. Just... leave the fucking around to the ones who know how to enjoy it, son."
Jensen counted to ten, and then did it again, because Chris really was a good friend. Chris watched him curiously, until Jensen shook his head. "You really are a piece of work, you know that, right?"
"Just calling 'em like I see 'em," Chris said, and his eyes were serious even if his tone was flip. Reluctantly, Jensen half-nodded in acknowledgment.
"Yeah, well, don't let me keep you from enjoying your fucking around."
"Sure you don't want to stay?" Chris grinned. "Couple hours of sleep and then maybe find out how our girl feels about fucking in the shower and whether she understands the importance of pancakes and bacon."
"Nah, man," Jensen said, laughing. "I'll take a pass on that. Thanks, though. Tell Steve I'm not gonna flame out."
"Yeah, yeah," Chris muttered, turning back to go inside. "I'll draw little hearts on the note before I pass it over to him, too."
The door closed softly behind him and Jensen was back to flying solo.
-v-
It was a hard thing to swallow, but there was no use trying to sugarcoat it. They used to do fifteen takes because they were laughing so hard they couldn't keep a straight face for more than a minute. Now they did it because they sucked, and that was on a good day. This one wasn't even close to good, it was only going to get worse, and Jensen didn't know how much more they could all take.
Jared didn't blink when Jensen asked for ten minutes, just followed him back to his trailer wordlessly, which meant that maybe he wouldn't try to rip Jensen's head off when he forced the issue. Then again, Jensen thought, looking at the script Jared was methodically and unconsciously shredding, maybe he would. And maybe Jensen would deal with it or maybe he'd push back, but either way, Jensen wasn't losing the best role he'd ever had over a piece of trailer trash, not without a fight.
That didn't mean he had a fucking clue what to say though.
"We just gonna stand here and stare at each other?" Jared finally drawled, leaning against the door, body language all but screaming how much he didn't want to be there. Jensen really couldn't say as how he blamed him.
"This needs to--we can't keep--" Jensen floundered to a stop. Jared didn't blow him off, but he didn't step in to help either, so Jensen breathed deep and finally managed to say, "We have to stop."
Jared looked at him for a long time before he dropped his eyes and said quietly, "Pretty sure we already have, man. Everything... it's all gone, isn't it?"
Jensen swallowed hard before he answered, "I meant--"
"Yeah, I know what you meant," Jared sighed. "What do you want, Jensen? You want me to apologize again? Is that gonna end this pissing match, get us off this set without humiliating ourselves?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Jensen hated that he knew that meant Jared was fighting a monster headache. "I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry--"
"Yeah." Jensen tried to laugh, but it didn't come out quite right. "I've heard all that, Jared." He needed to shut up; this was more or less ancient history. They needed to be focusing on the job, on the characters and on finding just a shade of that groove they'd always had, but his mouth wouldn't stop talking. "You fucked up and you're sorry and you couldn't run away fast enough, could you?"
He half-expected to have to duck a punch or two--and Jared had a couple of inches of reach on him--but Jared didn't move, just kept leaning against the door, eyes on the floor. The silence between them stretched out, until Jensen thought the weight of it might smother them. "What do you want, Jensen?" Jared finally repeated, his voice barely audible over the hum of the trailer's heating system.
"I want--we need to stop," Jensen said, and he wasn't helping things, but if he'd known how to fix things, he would have done it already, Jared fucking well should know that. "We're screwing everything up and…we just need to stop."
Jared looked up at that, and his eyes were as dull and lifeless as his voice. "What if I don't want to?" he asked. "What if it's ten kinds of fucked-up but it's better than not having anything at all?"
"Jare..."
"Yeah, I know," Jared said, pushing off the door with a roll of his shoulders and turning to go. "It's okay. We can do what you want."
The door closed behind him, before Jensen could finish saying that he understood about holding on to anything, just for the sake of having something; or, God, that letting go of everything wasn't what he wanted, not by a long goddamn shot--but that was for the best, Jensen thought. If he'd said that, any of that, they'd be right back where they started, and if there was one thing he was sure of in this whole mess, it was that he wouldn't make it through a fucked-up groundhogging replay of the last few months.
It wasn't good, cutting things off like that, but it was better. Smoother. A hell of a lot easier on the crew, too, which really made Jensen want to kick himself. He was supposed to be smarter than that, supposed to know better than to let his injured pride make life harder for the people who were working their asses off behind the scenes.
Nobody said anything, but one day Jensen looked up and he and Jared were alone in the weight room, so at least Eddy was trusting them not to kill each other on his watch. He almost turned around and said something to Jared about it, before he remembered that he and Jared weren't like that now.
Some days, when they finished the wide shots and were standing around waiting for lighting to get set for the close-ups, Jensen thought he could feel Jared's eyes on him, but whenever he turned, Jared was busy with continuity or wardrobe or makeup. It didn't matter, Jensen told himself. It didn't matter whether Jared was watching him or not, what mattered was that Jensen was watching Jared, and Jensen really did not need to be playing games with himself. Not this time.
The trick was to focus on Dean, to pay attention to the character and the words he spoke and the ones he didn't, and to give everything he could to the give and take of the dynamic with Sam. That was enough to wear him out night after night, tire him to the point of exhaustion, so that it didn't matter that his apartment was quiet and empty.
Wrapping for the season turned out to be completely anticlimactic. All the heavy emotional stuff got taken care of early in the week, so the last day consisted of three quick reshoots of walking in and out of assorted doorways and standing around while assorted production-types stared at monitors to see if everyone had what they needed. Hurry up and then go wait for the light and one more time, everybody, and it was suddenly done. Half the crew took off for Hamilton Street; after all the shit he and Jared had put them through, Jensen knew they were damn lucky to be invited along. Tired or not, there was no way he could bail, at least not before he bought a round or two, and hell, he probably owed the stunt guys an open tab.
The plan was to go in, say at least a couple words to everyone, and get out before things inevitably got out of hand. It was a good plan, and Jensen executed solidly, right up to when he walked out of the bar to grab a cab and Jared followed him out.
The last two shots of tequila probably hadn't been a good idea, but Jensen could deal with this, deal with Jared, even if it wasn't in Eric's carefully designed, artificial world--or at least he told himself that he could, right up until Jared stopped in front of him and said, "I fucked Chad because I was stupid but I left because I thought it was what you wanted." His voice was low and tired, but his eyes were clear and direct. "I thought it was the best thing I could do, but it wasn't what I wanted."
The smart thing to do would be stay quiet, but it was late and they were a little less than sober and, well, Jensen had always been stupid when it came to Jared. "It wasn't," Jensen heard himself saying. "What I wanted."
"Yeah," Jared said, exhaling on a long sigh. "I kinda figured that out too late."
"Me, too," Jensen said, shrugging. He probably owed Jared a better explanation than that, but Jared nodded and maybe it was enough. Jared held his eyes steadily, and for the first time in a long time--a really fucking long time--standing there with Jared didn't feel like trying to breathe through a gut-punch.
"This is stupid," Jared muttered, right at the same time Jensen said, "It's not what I want, now, either," and then they both shut up and stared at each other.
"Yeah?" Jared asked.
"Yeah," Jensen said, and it couldn't be that simple, but later, after they'd found a cab and sobered up a little, after Jared had spread him out and fingered him open, when Jared was curled around him, rocking into him and fisting his cock with the same lazy rhythm, Jensen said it out loud, and Jared went still inside him, free hand coming up to slide over Jensen's mouth.
"Shhhh," Jared slurred, voice slow and ragged, and Jensen shuddered as the low drawl slid over his skin. "It won't be, it won't, but it'll be okay, we'll be okay."
Jensen heard the hesitation under the words, and reached back to pull Jared closer, pull him deeper. "Yeah," he whispered against Jared's hand, letting his tongue trace small patterns over Jared's palm, letting the soft noises Jared made sink into him. "We will."
***
And because they wouldn't shut up in my brain, a little bit more of the story: Five Times Jeff Knew Better But Said Yes Anyway.
We're all clear that this never ever ever happened, and that I know no one and nothing, right? All made up, fiction, etc, etc, etc. Thanks as always to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
without_me for keeping me from egregious sins against the grammar gods and for putting up with my being distracted from the *other* thing and to darkseaglass for reading through multiple endings even though it's not her crowd.
CWrpf
Pairing: Jared/Jensen, plus a few extras
Rating: Adult, mild kink
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't know anything about anyone...
Sequel to Five People Jared Never Expected to Wind Up In Bed With and it probably won't make much sense without reading that one first.
Everyone thought Jensen and Steve were fucking the whole time they were living together--but everyone was wrong. Jensen sure as hell didn't have anything against hooking up with a friend occasionally, and God knew he loved Steve, but the timing was never right. Or something.
Chris got all up in Steve's face about it once, after the three of them had been smoking and messing around with a couple of songs. As far as Jensen could follow, Chris was offended that they didn't trust him enough to tell him, like they thought he was some homophobic redneck who'd flip out on them.
Steve had looked across the room at Jensen and smiled. "Nothing to tell, bro," he'd laughed, shaking his head. "Not yet, anyway."
Jensen had grinned back and sworn on Chris's guitar--about the only thing Chris held sacred--that he'd be the first one to know. The next day, they blamed the whole conversation on the weed and Chris never mentioned it again.
It wasn't until Jensen got Smallville and Steve managed to fly up to Vancouver for a couple of days that anything happened. Maybe it was the different city or maybe it was the weather, low clouds and misting rain, or maybe the timing was just finally right, but Steve walked into the suite Jensen was living out of and put his guitar down and they didn't walk back out until it was time for his flight back to LA.
It wasn't that Jensen didn't expect to wind up fucking Jeff--because that was a foregone conclusion about three minutes after they met in the production office. What surprised him was that they kept on hooking up after they finished with the pilot. Nothing big, nothing settled, just the occasional phone call or Lakers game or--Jensen's personal favorite--the random text that was nothing more than a hotel address and room number.
Underneath it all, Jensen liked hanging out with Jeff, and not just for the motherfucking awesome sex. He was easy to talk to, always ready to laugh at himself or the business, with a twisted sense of humor to go along with his ever-so-slightly bent preferences in bed. Jensen wasn't sure which one he enjoyed more, if only because dealing with Jeff's cracked-out idea of a joke didn't involve brazening out the knowing looks from make-up as they covered the visible bruises and bite marks.
Jared was such a spectacularly bad idea that Jensen almost didn't have a problem with keeping things on a friends-only basis. If there were times when he jerked off thinking about how it would feel if it were Jared's hands--big, rough, hot--instead of his own wrapped around his dick, it was simple enough to run through all the ways things could blow up around them and keep it nothing more than a fantasy.
The problem wasn't his dick. It was so much worse than that. It was every time Jared stood off-camera and laughed until the entire crew gave up and joined him. It was the phone call every time they had an early call, to make sure Jensen hadn't slept through another alarm, and the way Jared genuinely smiled at whoever Jensen brought to parties and then spent the next week giving Jensen no end of shit about the flavor of the week. But mostly, it was the way Jensen could see Jared swallowing hard when they forgot and stood too close and how dark Jared's eyes were when he finally dragged everything out into the open, right before Jensen leaned in and kissed him.
Jensen could still pretend it was just a thing, though, right up until the night he let Jeff lay him out and take him apart with Jared sitting right there watching. Jeff had him so strung out he didn't know anything but what that low growl told him, and Jared, Jared just crossed over to him and rubbed one big hand, slow and nasty, over Jensen's ass, covered Jensen's mouth with his own and took in every noise Jensen couldn't keep from making.
Jensen was screwed, so fucking screwed, and it was his own damn fault for letting Jared in that deep. Totally screwed and there was nothing he could do about it, even if he could convince himself he wanted to try.
Tom wasn't big on hitting the nightlife, but Mike? Was an entirely different story. It didn't matter how late Jensen wrapped for the night, or how early anyone's calls were the next day, if Jensen got on the phone, Mike was up for it. And he was the perfect partner--all Jensen had to do was sit back and let Mr. Personality break the ice, and then flash a smile, a quiet one, one of the ones that would have his mama's eyes narrowed and a wooden spoon in her hand if she could see it, and he was golden.
There were rules, of course. Jensen always had rules for himself, goals he'd set, standards he never shared with anyone but that he always challenged himself to beat. Just because he'd broken one of his oldest ones for Jared--and gotten the swift kick in the teeth that reminded him why he'd laid it down in the first place, goddamned gorgeous smiles notwithstanding--didn't mean he couldn't get right back in the saddle again. Especially when it was as simple as not leaving until he had the best, the one person who stood out in the crowd, the one everyone else wanted to be near. It didn't matter if they were clubbing or shooting pool or at a gallery opening, he'd know within five minutes who he wanted. And when Jensen wanted something, he always got it, even if it ended up boring him to death.
And then Mike bailed on him one night, leaving him with a full round of party favors--Mike was nothing if not generous with his stash--and he couldn't talk himself out of ending up at Jared's. And of course, of course, he'd fucked half of Vancouver and couldn't be bothered to remember a thing, but even half-drunk on the bourbon Jeff had left behind and more than a little high on Mike's weed, he woke up the next morning and knew every last second in exquisite detail, everything from the taste of Jared's blood in his mouth to the feel of Jared's hands on his hips, holding him in place while Jared fucked up into him.
Fifteen minutes of Jared's cock up his ass and he was right back to watching Jared follow Chad out of that party, except this time when he got out of the car in the middle of the new week's version of Nowhere, British Columbia, instead of guilt and shame, Jared's eyes slid over him with nothing in them, flat and cold and distant, and fuck if that wasn't like gasoline on the fire.
Jensen wasn't sure how they managed to avoid a major reaming-out by everyone from the local crew right up to Eric and Bob; he thought it might have had something to do with Sam and Dean barely speaking and everyone convincing themselves that he and Jared were in some method-acting suicide pact. Denial was a great thing, especially when it meant you didn't have to deal with whether the talent was fucking or fighting.
The stunt guys knew, though. Eddy always had someone in the gym with them when they were sparring or working out the big fight choreography. Jensen was tempted to tell him off more than once, but the one remaining sane bit of his brain pointed out that he really wasn't keeping shit as under control as he liked to pretend, and even if he was, the odds were pretty likely that Jared wasn't, because he sure as hell wasn't missing many opportunities to take Jensen down.
Tom came out with him and Mike one night, which surprised Jensen, until he realized Mike had set him up, that Tom was there to be the voice of reason. Steve called a couple of times; Jeff watched him through narrowed eyes when he was on-set; and then Chris showed up at his door and Jensen pretty much had had it.
Chris, of course, could have cared less. "You're being an ass, Ackles."
"Fuck you, Kane."
"Oh, hell, no, son." Chris had the most motherfucking annoying redneck drawl on the planet. "Even if I was into dick, yours has been so many places lately that it ain't getting near mine."
He had the smirk to go along with the drawl and Jensen finally just shook his head. "If I close my eyes, will you still be there when I open them again?"
"What do you think, Jenny?" Chris snorted.
Jensen sighed. "I think you'd be in my house drinking all my booze." He turned around to walk back into the living room. Chris was gonna do whatever he wanted anyway; Jensen didn't see the need to waste any energy trying to stop him.
Chris slung an arm around his shoulder and grinned. "I probably wouldn't have resisted the temptation to knock you on your ass when I went by either."
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't hit the ground fifty times today already," he muttered, shrugging when Chris looked questioningly at him. "This fight sequence is gonna kill me," he said out loud instead.
Chris was smirking again and Jensen really didn't want to get into it. At all. "Look, I was on my way out," he said. "So..."
"Shoot, boy, you don't have to ask me twice."
Jensen hadn't expected Chris to take the hint, so, yeah, whatever. Chris was a big boy; Jensen didn't plan on babysitting anyone, and if Chris didn't like the way Jensen spent his nights, it was too fucking bad for him.
Jensen still picked the most techno club in the city, just for the fun of watching Chris deal with the trance beats. Twenty minutes after they walked in, though, Chris had a tall brunette draped over him, one perfectly manicured nail tracing along the curve of his arm. Ten minutes after that, he was leaning in close to growl under the music, "She's looking for a two-for-one, Jenny-boy. You up for that?" and Jensen heard himself agreeing.
It was easy to crawl into a cab with them, passing her back and forth; simple to fall onto the king-sized bed in Chris's hotel room. Chris had a filthy low growl and he never shut up, just talked all of them through the logistics of clothes and angles and condoms, until they were curved into each other, tangled together on the rumpled sheets and Jensen was balls-deep in her ass, feeling Chris moving in counterpoint, inside her, too, rocking her slowly between them.
"Yeah, baby," Chris murmured when she moaned, his voice gone rough and used. "He feel good inside you like that?" He pressed her back, forcing Jensen deeper into her, laughing when Jensen hissed and swore. "C'mon, baby," Chris whispered, licking into her mouth, sliding his hand into the tangle of legs. "You and me, let's make him scream."
Jensen held out through Chris fingering her rough and nasty, getting her off the first time, through her body tightening around his, but then he didn't stop, didn't even slow down, just kept on pushing her, telling her they weren't done yet, Jensen hadn't come, they weren't stopping until he did. She came again, clawing and shaking, and brought Jensen off with her. He buried his face in the back of her neck so no one would hear anything he didn't want them to and managed to hold her hips steady for Chris.
The bed was warm and Jensen was as fucked-out lazy as he'd been in a long time, but he didn't spend the night--another rule--so he forced himself to roll off the edge and find his clothes.
Chris grumbled something unintelligible; Jensen answered, softly because he was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep and it would be a hell of a lot less hassle if he got out of the room without a good-bye scene, "Early call, man. Gonna go home and shower."
Chris opened one eye and sighed, shifting around until he could reach his jeans.
"Nice," he said, following Jensen. "That your standard excuse for bailing?" He stopped in the hall with one foot propping open the door. "It probably works better on people who don't know the union rules."
Jensen turned back. "Why exactly do you care, Chris? I mean, let's be straight here. Do you even know her name?"
"Jana," Chris said. "Grad student in musicology at UBC. Grew up out in the country. That tight, sweet ass you seemed to like a whole lot? She got that from cross-country skiing."
"Anybody ever tell you you're a pig, Kane?"
Chris shrugged. "I'm not the one slinking off down the hall with a pretty lie all polished up nice and shiny."
"Nah," Jensen shot back. "You're just the one who set it all up."
"From where I'm standing, all I'm seein' are consenting adults, and two of the three of us don't seem to have a problem with having a little fun."
"You done yet?"
"Not quite." Chris yawned and rubbed his face. "Aw, hell, what's the point. Just... leave the fucking around to the ones who know how to enjoy it, son."
Jensen counted to ten, and then did it again, because Chris really was a good friend. Chris watched him curiously, until Jensen shook his head. "You really are a piece of work, you know that, right?"
"Just calling 'em like I see 'em," Chris said, and his eyes were serious even if his tone was flip. Reluctantly, Jensen half-nodded in acknowledgment.
"Yeah, well, don't let me keep you from enjoying your fucking around."
"Sure you don't want to stay?" Chris grinned. "Couple hours of sleep and then maybe find out how our girl feels about fucking in the shower and whether she understands the importance of pancakes and bacon."
"Nah, man," Jensen said, laughing. "I'll take a pass on that. Thanks, though. Tell Steve I'm not gonna flame out."
"Yeah, yeah," Chris muttered, turning back to go inside. "I'll draw little hearts on the note before I pass it over to him, too."
The door closed softly behind him and Jensen was back to flying solo.
It was a hard thing to swallow, but there was no use trying to sugarcoat it. They used to do fifteen takes because they were laughing so hard they couldn't keep a straight face for more than a minute. Now they did it because they sucked, and that was on a good day. This one wasn't even close to good, it was only going to get worse, and Jensen didn't know how much more they could all take.
Jared didn't blink when Jensen asked for ten minutes, just followed him back to his trailer wordlessly, which meant that maybe he wouldn't try to rip Jensen's head off when he forced the issue. Then again, Jensen thought, looking at the script Jared was methodically and unconsciously shredding, maybe he would. And maybe Jensen would deal with it or maybe he'd push back, but either way, Jensen wasn't losing the best role he'd ever had over a piece of trailer trash, not without a fight.
That didn't mean he had a fucking clue what to say though.
"We just gonna stand here and stare at each other?" Jared finally drawled, leaning against the door, body language all but screaming how much he didn't want to be there. Jensen really couldn't say as how he blamed him.
"This needs to--we can't keep--" Jensen floundered to a stop. Jared didn't blow him off, but he didn't step in to help either, so Jensen breathed deep and finally managed to say, "We have to stop."
Jared looked at him for a long time before he dropped his eyes and said quietly, "Pretty sure we already have, man. Everything... it's all gone, isn't it?"
Jensen swallowed hard before he answered, "I meant--"
"Yeah, I know what you meant," Jared sighed. "What do you want, Jensen? You want me to apologize again? Is that gonna end this pissing match, get us off this set without humiliating ourselves?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Jensen hated that he knew that meant Jared was fighting a monster headache. "I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry--"
"Yeah." Jensen tried to laugh, but it didn't come out quite right. "I've heard all that, Jared." He needed to shut up; this was more or less ancient history. They needed to be focusing on the job, on the characters and on finding just a shade of that groove they'd always had, but his mouth wouldn't stop talking. "You fucked up and you're sorry and you couldn't run away fast enough, could you?"
He half-expected to have to duck a punch or two--and Jared had a couple of inches of reach on him--but Jared didn't move, just kept leaning against the door, eyes on the floor. The silence between them stretched out, until Jensen thought the weight of it might smother them. "What do you want, Jensen?" Jared finally repeated, his voice barely audible over the hum of the trailer's heating system.
"I want--we need to stop," Jensen said, and he wasn't helping things, but if he'd known how to fix things, he would have done it already, Jared fucking well should know that. "We're screwing everything up and…we just need to stop."
Jared looked up at that, and his eyes were as dull and lifeless as his voice. "What if I don't want to?" he asked. "What if it's ten kinds of fucked-up but it's better than not having anything at all?"
"Jare..."
"Yeah, I know," Jared said, pushing off the door with a roll of his shoulders and turning to go. "It's okay. We can do what you want."
The door closed behind him, before Jensen could finish saying that he understood about holding on to anything, just for the sake of having something; or, God, that letting go of everything wasn't what he wanted, not by a long goddamn shot--but that was for the best, Jensen thought. If he'd said that, any of that, they'd be right back where they started, and if there was one thing he was sure of in this whole mess, it was that he wouldn't make it through a fucked-up groundhogging replay of the last few months.
It wasn't good, cutting things off like that, but it was better. Smoother. A hell of a lot easier on the crew, too, which really made Jensen want to kick himself. He was supposed to be smarter than that, supposed to know better than to let his injured pride make life harder for the people who were working their asses off behind the scenes.
Nobody said anything, but one day Jensen looked up and he and Jared were alone in the weight room, so at least Eddy was trusting them not to kill each other on his watch. He almost turned around and said something to Jared about it, before he remembered that he and Jared weren't like that now.
Some days, when they finished the wide shots and were standing around waiting for lighting to get set for the close-ups, Jensen thought he could feel Jared's eyes on him, but whenever he turned, Jared was busy with continuity or wardrobe or makeup. It didn't matter, Jensen told himself. It didn't matter whether Jared was watching him or not, what mattered was that Jensen was watching Jared, and Jensen really did not need to be playing games with himself. Not this time.
The trick was to focus on Dean, to pay attention to the character and the words he spoke and the ones he didn't, and to give everything he could to the give and take of the dynamic with Sam. That was enough to wear him out night after night, tire him to the point of exhaustion, so that it didn't matter that his apartment was quiet and empty.
Wrapping for the season turned out to be completely anticlimactic. All the heavy emotional stuff got taken care of early in the week, so the last day consisted of three quick reshoots of walking in and out of assorted doorways and standing around while assorted production-types stared at monitors to see if everyone had what they needed. Hurry up and then go wait for the light and one more time, everybody, and it was suddenly done. Half the crew took off for Hamilton Street; after all the shit he and Jared had put them through, Jensen knew they were damn lucky to be invited along. Tired or not, there was no way he could bail, at least not before he bought a round or two, and hell, he probably owed the stunt guys an open tab.
The plan was to go in, say at least a couple words to everyone, and get out before things inevitably got out of hand. It was a good plan, and Jensen executed solidly, right up to when he walked out of the bar to grab a cab and Jared followed him out.
The last two shots of tequila probably hadn't been a good idea, but Jensen could deal with this, deal with Jared, even if it wasn't in Eric's carefully designed, artificial world--or at least he told himself that he could, right up until Jared stopped in front of him and said, "I fucked Chad because I was stupid but I left because I thought it was what you wanted." His voice was low and tired, but his eyes were clear and direct. "I thought it was the best thing I could do, but it wasn't what I wanted."
The smart thing to do would be stay quiet, but it was late and they were a little less than sober and, well, Jensen had always been stupid when it came to Jared. "It wasn't," Jensen heard himself saying. "What I wanted."
"Yeah," Jared said, exhaling on a long sigh. "I kinda figured that out too late."
"Me, too," Jensen said, shrugging. He probably owed Jared a better explanation than that, but Jared nodded and maybe it was enough. Jared held his eyes steadily, and for the first time in a long time--a really fucking long time--standing there with Jared didn't feel like trying to breathe through a gut-punch.
"This is stupid," Jared muttered, right at the same time Jensen said, "It's not what I want, now, either," and then they both shut up and stared at each other.
"Yeah?" Jared asked.
"Yeah," Jensen said, and it couldn't be that simple, but later, after they'd found a cab and sobered up a little, after Jared had spread him out and fingered him open, when Jared was curled around him, rocking into him and fisting his cock with the same lazy rhythm, Jensen said it out loud, and Jared went still inside him, free hand coming up to slide over Jensen's mouth.
"Shhhh," Jared slurred, voice slow and ragged, and Jensen shuddered as the low drawl slid over his skin. "It won't be, it won't, but it'll be okay, we'll be okay."
Jensen heard the hesitation under the words, and reached back to pull Jared closer, pull him deeper. "Yeah," he whispered against Jared's hand, letting his tongue trace small patterns over Jared's palm, letting the soft noises Jared made sink into him. "We will."
***
And because they wouldn't shut up in my brain, a little bit more of the story: Five Times Jeff Knew Better But Said Yes Anyway.
We're all clear that this never ever ever happened, and that I know no one and nothing, right? All made up, fiction, etc, etc, etc. Thanks as always to
without_me for keeping me from egregious sins against the grammar gods and for putting up with my being distracted from the *other* thing and to darkseaglass for reading through multiple endings even though it's not her crowd.