Domestic Bliss and Other Oxymorons by YourPeriphery Jensen calls his mom once a week, without fail.

Once, just a couple months after he first moved to L.A., he'd gone eleven days without calling home. He was living in some shitty studio apartment on the outskirts of Koreatown and he hadn't even gotten around to plugging in his answering machine. On the twelfth night of not calling, he'd stumbled home from Sunset with some pretty blonde attached to his mouth, fumbled the key in the lock, and opened the door to find his mother perched at the edge of his futon, suitcase by her feet. "Surprise," she'd said, not smiling. Jensen doesn't like surprises, so come hell or high waterdrought, famine, locusts, or Chad Michael MurrayJensen calls his mother once a week. The conversations are always pretty much the same. She'll tell him all about the carnival fundraiser she's helping to organize for the church, or complain about how long it took to get her oil changed, or she'll go into extraordinary detail about the crap Cow, her dog, took all over the Oriental rug in the dining room. "He's just been so naughty lately. Pooping on the rug! Did I tell you he peed on your father?" "No." "He peed on your father!" "Cow is like a hundred and ten in dog years, Mom. He probably can't feel his asshole anymore, much less keep it in the off position long enough to make it outside." "Language, Jensen. Now, tell me how things are going for you. How's living with Jared?" That's the part of the conversation where his mom always checks out. As soon as she hands him the talking stick, he usually hears the TV go on in the background or the telltale chime of her iMac booting up. "I don't live with him. I've got an appointment with the realtor on Saturday morning." "Mmhmm." "But, since you asked, it sucks. He goes to bed at nine o'clock some nights and insists that the TV be off so he can get maximum REM. But when he's up at three-thirty in the morning making his protein shakes in the blender that you can hear from Mars, does he think about the fact that I'm sleeping one room over? No. He does not." "Mmhmm." "Plus, he's always parking me in. Biggest driveway in the world, and he always manages to park his big-ass ridiculous truck at some bizarre angle that means I can't get out without making him move first." "Mmhmm."

"Mom? Are you even listening?" "Mmhmm." "I've decided to quit acting and become a professional ride-pimper. My true dream is to put plasma screens on the trunks of glorified minivans all over North America. No one will ever be bored at a red light again." "Mmhmm. I meanwhat? I'm listening, sweetie, don't be silly. I'm just writing your aunt Gretchen an email." Jensen sighs. "I'm gonna let you go, Mom. I'll call you next week, okay? I love you." "Mmhmm," she says over the clack-click of her keyboard. Jared has a dry-erase whiteboard tacked to his fridge. He and Sandy used to use it to leave each other weird, cryptic love notes that Jensen didn't really want to try to figure out. Now, in purple marker, there's startlingly detailed drawing of a cocka hairy, veiny, leaking cock and a hastily scrawled Ginsberg quote. The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction. "What's up with the dick?" Jensen asks while they're cooking dinner. He's tossing garlic and oregano into a saucepan; Jared is dumping eighty boxes of spaghetti into a pot that's big enough for Jensen's entire family to sit comfortably inside. "Well," Jared says, grinning and grabbing himself lewdly through his basketball shorts. He's still sweaty and shirtless from the gymhe was headed for the shower when he got back in, but he smelled food and got sidetracked. "I'm both a grower and a shower." He thrusts his hips out and Jensen has to side-step to avoid getting humped. "I meant on the fridge, asshole." Jensen feels his cheeks heat up and tosses a piece of diced onion at Jared's face, and the fucker catches it in his mouth. "Oh, that. I don't know; Chad did it while he was here this summer. He's got a thing for beat poets." Jared tilts his head and wrinkles his nose quizzically. "And big purple hairy balls." Jensen opens his mouth to respond, but opts to just shake his head. There's nothing to say about Chad that hasn't been said. Jared sidles up close and makes an unsuccessful grab for Jensen's spoon. Jensen elbows him away. "Get off me, you sweaty sack of onion breath." "Shut up," Jared says. He leans over and huffs out a deliberate breath in Jensen's face, warm onionflavored air against Jensen's cheek. "You love my natural odors." He takes a fresh spoon out of the drawer and steals a taste of the sauce. "Dude. That's really fucking good." "It's not done yet," Jensen says. "Patience is a virtue." Jared hops up on the counter, his running shoes knocking against the cupboards beneath him. "You know something, Jensen Ackles?" he says, smiling, tomato sauce clinging to the corner of his mouth.

Jensen rolls his eyes, but indulges him. "What?" "I think I'll keep you." They've been filming in the green-screen Impala for five hours. Jensen's ass is starting to go numb and his back aches. There's a leak in his air mattress, but he can't fucking find it, and every morning he wakes up with just a thin layer of plastic between his back and Jared's hardwood floor. He'd buy a new one, but there's no point when he's only going to be staying at Jared's house for a few more days. He hopes. He checks his blackberry as the crew resets the lights for the night scene, grunting in annoyance while he reads through emails from his realtor. "What?" Jared asks. He's bent forward, brow furrowed in concentration as he scrapes glue residue off the glove compartment. It's been there forever, since he plastered fake naked pictures of Jensen there sometime during the second season, insisting that they helped him stay in character. "Why's Julie sending me four-bedroom listings? I'm one guy." "My house has four bedrooms," Jared says. "Yeah, well, you're tacky. And irresponsible with your money," says Jensen. "Besides, only one of your bedrooms has an actual bed in it, so the others don't count." Jared straightens up away from the glove box and sucks the glue out from under his thumbnail. "We could get you a bed, man," he says. Jensen grabs Jared by the wrist and pulls his hand away from his mouth. "Dude, you're eating threeyear-old glue." "You think that's worse for me than fresh glue?" Jared asks. He sounds genuinely curious. "Probably about the same amount of unhealthy, Jay." "Then I'm good," Jared says. "Fresh glue never gives me a stomach ache or anything." He shoves his thumb back into his mouth. Jensen sighs and glares back down at his phone. "My fucking back hurts." Jared leans over and wipes his saliva-slick thumb on the sleeve of Jensen's leather jacket. "We could get you a bed," he says again. Watching Jared try to wedge himself between the TV and the wall to hook up his new five-disc DVD player is much funnier than the Friends rerun in which Jensen had been feigning interest. Every time somebody makes the mistake of letting Jared actually see the balance in his own bank account, he has to run out and buy something ridiculous that he doesn't need. "Your old DVD player

worked just as well as this one's gonna," Jensen says, stretched out on the couch, watching. "And that DVD player was already plugged in." "But the new DVD player is shinier and more expensive. You can watch an entire season of 24 without even getting off the couch!" There's a tiny zap noise and the muscles in Jensen's shoulders tense in sympathy as Jared grunts. "Ouch." "You okay?" "Jensen, the shiny expensive new DVD player is trying to kill me," he whimpers. Jensen stands up and walks over to kick at Jared's feet. "Come on, let me do it." "It's too dark," Jared says, wriggling out. "I can't tell the difference between all the holes back there." "That's what she said." "Original." Jared lifts a hand and Jensen grabs it, tugs him to his feet. For a moment, they're both shoved up too close in the corner, and it's arms and legs and sidestepping everywhere. Jensen can smell Jared's shampoo. He fits himself in behind the big-screen and fumbles for the wires while Jared hovers over him, trying to see. He gets the red one plugged in fine, and then he can't tell the difference between the yellow one and the white one in the dark. Damn it. When he finally gets them in, he stays behind the TV for another moment. "I just don't want to get sick of each other, you know?" he says, neck twisted at the worst angle ever, staring at the back of the cable box. "I think we'd get sick of each other eventually." He's not entirely sure what Jared could do to make Jensen sick of him, but there's got to be something. He doesn't want to find out. "It's cool," Jared says. He kicks Jensen's knee. "I'm not going to like, beg you." "So then I went and looked at this big four-bedroom in Burnaby, which was... Mom? Are you even listening?" "Mmhmm." "Mom, I've decided to go vegan. I never want to see another steak again in my life. Meat is murder! You know?" "MmhmmI mean, what? Oh, Jensen, I'm listening. I'm just trying to find my good scissors. I keep telling your dad to quit taking my good scissors if he can't put them back in my drawer." -

It's not that unexpected, the Tuesday that Jensen gets back from a sixteen-hour day on set and sees the air mattress peeking out of the garbage can at the edge of the street. Jared's car isn't in the driveway. Jensen pulls out his phone as he's hauling his backpack out of the SUV, waving goodbye to Clif, and sends off a text: where are you. Jared responds before Jensen's even gotten his key in the lock. grocery store, out of protein powder. r u home? im on my way. The dogs follow Jensen past the kitchen, down the hall to the room he's been crashing in. He pushes the door open and isn't surprised to see that there's a bed where his mattress used to be. It's a little more surprising to discover that there is also a dresser and a nightstand and a mirror and fucking curtains. The front door opens and Jensen hears Jared come up behind him. "Hey," Jared says, his voice quiet. "You shouldn't text while you're driving," Jensen blurts out. His books are on the dresser; there's a photo of himself and Danneel and Mac and Josh on the nightstand. "You got my shit out of storage?" Jared scoffs and leans against the doorframe. "I'm rich," he says. "I paid people to get your shit out of storage." Jensen lifts his gaze. There are four of Jared's headshots stuck to the ceiling above the bed, surrounded by little glow-in-the-dark stars like Jensen hasn't seen since Mac was in the eighth grade. "You pay people to glue your picture up there, too?" "I tried, man, but I was the only one tall enough. I'm compensating myself quite generously, though." Jensen walks over to the closet. His clothes are dumped all over the floor in there, which is sort of reassuring. Imagining Jared folding his jeans and hanging his shirts is a little more than he can handle at the moment. "Where's my luggage?" "Oh," Jared says, picking at a hangnail on his thumb. He's always tearing his hands to shreds. "That. It's gone." "Gone?" "Gone." "Dude," Jensen says. "I'm going to have to go somewhere. Eventually." "Not for any long extended periods of time," Jared says. He reaches out and flicks Jensen on the forehead. "You have a backpack." Jensen rubs at his forehead. "Jared," he says dumbly. Jared grins and turns to head toward the kitchen, snapping his fingers for Harley and Sadie to follow him. "Told you I wasn't gonna beg you, Jensen. Just moved you right on in. Welcome! Get

comfortable." "Dude," Jared calls from the kitchen. "Quit turning down the air conditioning!" "It's autumn in Canada," Jensen says, knocking a few magazines off the coffee table to make room for the two large pizzas they had delivered. "Normal people have the heat on." Jared ambles into the room with a couple of cold beers in one hand and the world's largest bowl of salad balanced on the other, a bottle of dressing tucked under his arm. "I'm not normal," he says. "I'm exceptional." "Exceptionally obnoxious. It's fifty degrees outside. That is not air-con weather." They sit down at opposite ends of the couch and arrange their feast on the table. Jensen has two layers of socks on and he's stretching out the sleeves of his sweater, trying to pull them down over his hands. Jared's in shorts and an old t-shirt, the neck all stretched out because he's always tugging it away from his throat. "I sweat a lot, Jensen! Plus, the dogs like it cold." "They tell you that?" "All the time. They also tell me it's annoying when you don't put away your cereal box in the morning," he says, grinning. He reaches for the salad dressing and pops the cap. He's about to pour it when Jensen grabs his elbow. "Dude! Is that bleu cheese?" Jared rolls his eyes and shakes Jensen's hand off. "No, asswipe. It's some vinaigrette thing." "Good, because bleu cheese salad dressing tastes" "Like body odor smells, I know. You've told me. Things can't taste like a smell, Jensen." "Bleu cheese dressing can. I'm telling you, it tastes like B.O. Do you have ranch?" "I'm not putting ranch dressing on my salad. Ranch is not a salad dressing, it is a Doritos flavor. The vinaigrette is a compromise," he says, looking proud of himself as he pours half the bottle over the lettuce. "You know, we could just use separate bowls." Jared looks at him like he just suggested they quit the show and move to a commune in the woods where there's a strict ban on porn and beer. "Uh, then we would have to wash two bowls," he says. "Which would just be dumb." They're in the middle of a fork-battle over the last cherry tomato when Jared says, "You should move into one of the upstairs rooms." "No," Jensen says. He wins the battle and bites the cherry tomato just right so that the juice and seeds squirt between his teeth and hit the shoulder of Jared's t-shirt. Jared deserves it, especially

because Jensen is still fucking cold. "Why? Then it wouldn't bother you when I make my protein shakes in the morning. Plus, warm air rises." "Because," Jensen insists, "this is not a slumber party. We are grown men. I'm thirty!" He rearranges himself on the couch so he's got his back to the armrest. "There are boundaries." He shoves his sock-feet underneath Jared's thigh. They're warm there. Jensen has a five AM call time on Friday, and they don't wrap on his scenes until well after eleven that night. He's practically hallucinating big, comfortable beds all over the set by the end of it. He can tell right away that he and Jared aren't on the same page when they get to the car. "So what do you want to do?" Jared asks, twisting in his seat, practically bouncing up and down like a fiveyear-old. "Uh, text Danneel and pass the fuck out?" "No way, man." Jensen tips his head over the back of the SUV seat and closes his eyes as the driver pulls off the lot. "You're right, it's Friday night, I should do something wild. I might drink a glass of milk," he says. "Eat one of those pumpkin cookies your aunt sent you. I might eat all of those pumpkin cookies your aunt sent you. Living on the edge!" "Dude. We've got hours before the bars close and tomorrow is Saturday! The first Saturday we've both had off all season. Let's go to Ginger Sixty-Two." "In between the cookies and passing out, I might attempt to jerk off," Jensen says, pretending he doesn't even hear Jared. "Probably won't make it all the way to the finish line, though. Probably just give it a little jiggle so it knows I still love it. I'm that fucking tired." "Jensen." "Jared. You have other friends. Some of them are even half as awesome as I am. Call one of them." Jared sighs exaggeratedly, but he pulls his phone out of the ridiculous holster he keeps on his belt and starts thumbing through his contacts. Jensen has just climbed into bed when Jared opens his door. He's changed into his nice jeans and run a comb through his hair, and Jensen can smell his cologne from halfway across the room. "Knock much," Jensen says, but his voice comes out sleepy and almost affectionate instead of the annoyed and grumpy he was going for. "I would, but that would totally kill my chances of catching you whackin' it," Jared replies, sharp and quick. He waves his phone, tapping the tiny camera lens. "I hear pictures of that might make you really popular on the internet." "Eat ass and die."

Jared smiles and drums his fingers against the doorknob. "So I'll see you in the morning?" "Have fun," Jensen says into his pillow. "Be good." He wakes up at an unholy hour to the sounds of Jared having obnoxiously loud sex. Or, well, technically, the sounds aren't Jared'sthey're high, squeaky, feminine noises, ah! ah! ah! but it's still definitely Jared's fault she's making them. Whoever she is. There's a central air vent on the ceiling in his bedroom, and he'd bet there's one on the floor of Jared's. Even when Jensen pulls his blanket up over his head, they might as well be having sex in the room for how clear the sound is. Jensen tries in vain to block it out and fall back to sleep, but it's not happening. When the solid thud of Jared's headboard hitting the wall joins the orchestra of porn star gasps, Jensen gives up and shuffles out of his room. He starts the coffee pot and turns on the TV, occupies himself with tossing Cheerios at Harley, and waits. It's another half an hour before noise from upstairs stops, and then only ten minutes before Jensen hears the stairs creak. She's a tiny brunette and she turns bright red when she sees Jensen, her hand going up to cover the obvious hickey tucked under her jaw line. Jared follows her down the stairs with a hand on her shoulder, huge and territorial. "'Sup," Jensen says, sitting cross-legged on the counter in his flannel pants. He holds out the box of dry cereal. "Cheerio? They're apple cinnamon." She just blinks at him, huge dark eyes, and turns to Jared. "My cab is out front," she says. Jared nods. He's still just in his boxers. There are bright scratches on his chest, and Jensen imagines her sitting on him, digging her claws into his skin. "It was nice to meet you," Jared says politely, opening the door for her. They both glance at Jensen, eyes flicking over and then away. Once the door is locked behind her, Jared turns to Jensen. "Dude." "I think apple cinnamon is way better than honey nut," Jensen says. "And I want to pay you rent." Jared tosses his hair out of his eyes. It's tangled and sweaty at the tips. "What? I don't need your money." "Half of your mortgage," Jensen says. "I know you don't need my money, man, but I'm not just going to crash here. It's ridiculous. It's juvenile." "Steve crashed with you for a year." Jared pauses, considers it. "I guess I see your point." "And half of all the bills. Cable, electric, the housekeeper." "I don't have a housekeeper."

"Trust me, that much is obvious. We're getting a housekeeper." Jared bites his lip. It goes white around the edges of his teeth. "What the hell are you even doing awake, man? It's not even seven. I haven't been to sleep yet." A few months back, Jensen bought Harley and Sadie a couple of squeaky toys shaped like squirrels. They'd loved them, squeaking them all over the house, and Jared had threatened to kill Jensen in forty-two different ways if he ever bought anything that made noise again. One of them is under the kitchen table, its fur matted with months of dog slobber. Jensen bends down to pick it up and gives it a few squeezes: ah! ah! ah! it goes. Jensen raises one eyebrow at Jared. He's got the decency to blush, to look down at the ground. "Oh. Sorry about that." "It's cool," Jensen says, shrugging. "It's not like you can pre-screen them for the tendency to make obnoxious sex noises." He tosses the squirrel to Sadie, who growls happily and jogs away to maul it in the privacy of her favorite spot behind the couch. "I'm going back to sleep." "Okay. See you in a few hours?" Jared has this strange, confused look on his face, like he just woke up in an unfamiliar room. Jensen nods. "And stop parking me in," he adds, when he's far enough down the hall that Jared can't see him anymore. "Your driveway is huge." In the kitchen, he hears the sound of a cupboard door opening and closing as Jared puts the Cheerios box away. "And he's always freaking texting while he's driving. He thinks he's multitasking. But I'm the one who's going to have to go identify his giant stupid face when they scrape it off Highway 99." "Mmhmm." "Mom? Are you listening?" "Mmhmm." "Mom, I'm thinking about setting MacKenzie up with my buddy Steve. You remember him? The one who was wearing the headscarf and playing naked banjo that time you and Dad met us in Vail? I think he'd be the perfect father for your future grandchildren." "MmhmmI mean. What? Oh, Jensen. I'm listening." Jensen's mail has been coming to Jared's address for a month when Shannen in makeup demands that they have a housewarming party. "The house is already warm," Jared tells her. "I've been living there for a year. Nobody wanted to come over and warm the house when it was just me."

Jensen barks out a laugh. "The house is a fucking ice box," he says. "Come by Friday night. You'll see." Jensen buys a bunch of steaks and some veggie burgers, and Jared comes home with four cases of wine and a keg. "Are you planning on giving everyone we know alcohol poisoning?" Jensen asks while they're setting up a bar in the basement. "Or are you just going to drown them all in merlot? Quick and easy, less vomit involved." "It's a party," Jared says. He stacks the red solo cups so that there are exactly fifteen cups in each tower. There's a pretty fucking good turnout, though. Jensen's pretty sure Jared invited everyone he passed on the street all week long, but it's a solid crowd. Everybody laughs naturally, they tease Jared about his girly taste in music, and an hour in nobody's spilled anything on the carpets. At least, nothing that'll stain. Jensen is on his third gigantic glass of wine (or, plastic cup full of wine; they do it up classy) when Misha catches his eye and quirks a brow, grinning. Misha's always got the good weed. He brings it up from LA, ripe medical marijuana that he packs in shampoo bottles in his checked baggage like a pro. "Yeah," Jensen laughs, "why not." "You wanna see if you can wrangle Jared?" Misha asks. He's already got a lighter in his hand, flicking it with his thumb. The flame hisses and pops and Sadie yaps at it. Jensen lifts up on his toes, peering above the crowd. Jared's over by the bookshelf with Genevieve, their heads tipped together over a photo album or a yearbook or something. "Nah," Jensen says. "He's good." They get high as fuck, just sprawled out on the floor in Jensen's room. Jensen used to have a chair a giant, red beanbag chair, at his old place. He's not sure what Jared did with it. He'll have to ask. Misha doesn't really seem to mind the floor, though. He just lays back and stares at the ceiling and talks. In addition to having the best weed, Misha also has the best stories. He can talk forever. Jensen kind of marvels at it, but then again, he's so stoned that he's also marveling at the grain of the wood floor and at the number of lines on his own palm. They've been sitting around smoking and drinking straight from the bottle for like an hour when Jared shows up, just walks on in like he owns the place. Which he does, but whatever. "You should knock," Jensen says. "What if I were in here with a girl? You're not the only person who can get laid around here, you know." Misha snorts, raises a finger. "I can get laid," he says. Jared waves a hand in front of his face, clearing the smoke. "Danneel's not here," he says. "So I figured that was highly unlikely. I was just looking for you."

Jensen struggles to sit up, but ends up sort of halfway propped up on his elbow. "Dude," he says. "Misha can talk forever. Like you, only he's got really fucking good stories." Jared grins at Misha. "Did you tell him the one about the foursome you had in Tibet?" "He was about to," Jensen says. "What's up? Come in, dude, come here. You want a hit? We'll make room on the floor. What'd you do with my beanbag chair, Jared? The red one. Come here, come down here. You remember that bean-bag chair?" He reaches out a hand for Jared, like maybe Jared might need some help getting down to their level. Jared just smiles and kicks Jensen's boot lightly, ignoring his outstretched arm. "There's a party out there, Jensen. You think you maybe wanna come on out and help me host it?" "I'm kind of fucked up, man," Jensen says. He waves a hand in the air. "Come here, seriously." He's confused and disoriented, but he is ninety-nine percent sure that he'll feel better if Jared comes down to the floor with him. Jared presses his lips together and flares his nostrils. "Nah. Think I'm gonna go back out there. But y'all guys have fun." Jensen wakes up on his floor sometime after three in the morning. His mouth tastes like acid and feels like it's stuffed with cotton. He's too old for this shit. He struggles to his feet and kind of stumbles down the hallway, one hand braced against the wall as he rides the wave of nausea. It's quiet; everyone's gone. If it weren't for the tied-off garbage bags in the kitchen, Jensen would almost believe he'd imagined the whole party. The counters are clear, the coffee table is empty. The muddy footprints by the door are gone and all the Guitar Hero stuff is back in the game crates by the TV. Jared cleaned up all by himself. He shuffles toward the fridge for a water bottle, but pauses, blinking until the dry-erase board comes into focus. Jared's rubbed out most of Chad's purple cock and beat poetry and scrawled: J, YOU REALLY NEED TO GET LESS STONED. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo, J Jensen smiles... or he thinks he smiles; it's still kind of hard to feel his face. He feels pretty bad about the whole night. He knows he gets lethargic when he's high; it probably wasn't cool to abandon Jared to entertain half of Vancouver in their basement. The dry-erase marker is on top of the fridge. He uncaps it with his teeth and scribbles SORRY, I

SUCK under Jared's note. He's leaning back against the sink, chugging from a water bottle when he hears Jared's voice from the back porch, followed by the familiar jingle of the dogs' collars as they chase each other around the yard. Jensen snags a second Aquafina bottle from the fridge and heads toward the sliding doors. Jared is folded over the porch rail with a half-full trash bag in his hand, laughing as Sadie tackles Harley to the ground in the yellow light from the bug zapper. Typical - Jensen can see Jared's breath hanging in the air, but Jared is only in a t-shirt, feet bare where his toes peek out under his jeans. Jensen's about to pull the door open when Genevieve appears from around the corner, a couple of empty beer bottles in her hands. "Found some strays," she says, voice muffled by the glass. Jared grins and opens the trash bag for them. "You always stick around after parties to help clean up?" he laughs. "I'm gonna invite you over all the time." Genevieve's smile is small and private; something about it makes Jensen step away from the glass door, back into shadow. "Not always," she says. Jared is a little bit stooped over, that hunchback thing he does when he's trying to catch someone's gaze and hold it. When he speaks, his voice is lowif his face weren't in the light, Jensen wouldn't even be able to tell what he was saying. "Hey," he murmurs, lifting a hand to touch her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Thanks." There's a flash of her smile, of her sharp white teeth, before she's up on her tip-toes and kissing him. Jensen turns back to the kitchen. Behind him, there's the whump of the trash bag hitting the deck, the hollow noise of a beer bottle rolling over the wooden slats. Jared likes to kiss with both hands. Jensen flushes. It's weird that he knows that about Jared, that he's seen it enough times on set, or with Sandy. Jared puts his hands on everybody. Jensen puts the second water bottle back in the refrigerator and considers the white board. On second glance, Jared's little note is bordering on passive-aggressive. It's not like Jared can't handle a crowd. Jared loves a crowd. And Jensen's a grown up; if he wants to get stoned and pass out on his floor while listening to Misha Collins' tales of Tibetan debauchery, he'll do it. And Jared didn't have to clean up. Jensen knows for a fact that Jared has no problem going to bed while the house is a complete disaster. He could have saved it for the morning and they could've done it together. Jensen rubs out his little apology and instead writes I INVITE YOU TO SUCK IT, scrawling a little smiley face underneath, and then he heads back to his room. Maybe if he falls asleep right away, he'll miss the inevitable racket that Jared and Genevieve are going to make upstairs. He's pretty surprised when he hears Genevieve's rental car start in the driveway ten minutes later, and Jared's call of "Drive safe!" from the porch. Jensen lies awake for a long time that night, listening to the quiet house and riding out the bed spins. -

He drags his ass out of his room at half-past one the next day after a good hour spent on his bathroom floor spitting bile. Jared, lying on the couch on his belly, lifts his head as Jensen shuffles past. "Gatorade in the fridge, Egg McMuffin in the bag on the counter," he calls. Jensen hears him pause whatever he's got going on the TiVo. "I've never loved another person as much as I love you in this moment," Jensen replies gratefully. He gathers the provisions and goes to join Jared in the living room. The three leather recliners in there are comfortable, but Jensen needs to be more horizontal than that. He groans a little as he lowers himself to the ground and lies down on his stomach. "I could make room for you on the couch," Jared says. It's one of those things you say because you feel like you have to, but that you don't really mean. "I would never ask that of you." Jensen rolls over onto his back and looks up at Jared's head hanging over the side of the sofa. "Yo." "Yo." "There's a vague possibility that I suck for bailing on you last night." "Yup." "You pissed?" Jared shrugs. "You're a fucking antisocial zombie when you're high, man." "I'm kind of an antisocial zombie when I'm sober." "True story," Jared says. Jensen rolls back onto his stomach and peels the greasy wrapper off the McMuffin. Jared hits play on the remote and on the TV, an alarmingly blonde Chad Michael Murray springs to life. "You're not seriously watching One Tree Hill reruns," Jensen groans around a bite of his sandwich. Jared sighs. "I need retaliation inspiration. Chad keeps scouring the internet for photoshopped pictures of me like, tossing your salad, and emailing them to my high school buddies." "Below the belt!" "I know. I'm in full war mode. All systems go. Red alert. Etcetera." On the screen, Chad is making out with Hillarie Burton as confetti rains down on them. Jensen's appetite fades pretty fast. He holds out what's left of his sandwich, and Harley trots over to take it away. Jared makes an outraged noise. "He's going to have the worst farts ever! I'm going to lock him in your room later."

Jensen smiles, pressing his cheek to the carpet. The floor is pretty comfortable in here. When Harley finishes demolishing the McMuffin, he lies down beside Jensen, plopping his head down on Jensen's back. Jared gives up on One Tree Hill and finds the latest House on the TiVo. Jensen's hangover settles over him like a blanket. He's in and out of sleep, only vaguely aware of what's happening on the TV. "You could go back to bed. You're not even watching," Jared says, after a while. "Sure I am," Jensen says. He doesn't open his eyes. "It's not lupus. Everybody lies." "Harley is slobbering all over your back." "I know. I can feel it through my shirt." "You can shove him off, you know. He'll forgive you two seconds later." "Nah." Jensen feels lazy and content. "He's good." Jared is silent for a moment. "I'm not mad about last night," he says, quiet. Jensen opens his eyes and looks over. Jared's hair is in his face; he looks young, blinking down at Jensen. He's got one leg hanging off of the couch. Jared has long toes. His feet are pale where his boots have rubbed away his spray-tan. Jensen grins and turns back to the TV. "Why do you think they call it tossing your salad, anyway?" he asks. Jared doesn't miss a beat. "Probably because it tastes like bleu cheese dressing smells." Jensen snorts. Harley farts. For a day that began with barfing up stomach acid, it's not so bad. Jared takes so long in the morning that Jensen usually slips back to sleep waiting around at the kitchen table. Jared wakes him up with a hard slap to the back of his head. "We gotta go," he says, grinning, far too perky considering the sun isn't even up yet. "God, Jensen. People are waiting for us. Rude." Jensen grunts and struggles to his feet. "Fuck you. Taking a goddamn hour to curl your eyelashes and pick out your fucking lip gloss. Fucker." In the morning, his vocabulary gets stripped down to the bare necessities. Jared picks up Jensen's Special K box from the counter and puts it in the cupboard. "Some of us don't wake up as pretty as you, Jen," he says. Jensen grabs his coat from the closet and Jared's from the floor next to the couch while Jared wrangles the dogs.

"Pages," Jensen says, taking the leashes, and Jared jogs into the dining room to grab their binders. "Fuck, do you know where I" "Yeah." Jared comes back and pulls Jensen's house keys out of his pockets. "They were in your jeans; I almost sent them through the washing machine by accident." Jensen hands Jared his coat and Sadie's leash. "Your hair's a disaster," he says. Jared shrugs and steals the baseball cap right off of Jensen's head. "Problem solved. Shoot, did" "Your Twizzlers are in your backpack. Vamanos." Once they're finally out the door, Jensen says, "Oh. By the wayDanneel's got some time off. Thinking she might come up for a couple days. That okay?" Jared raises an eyebrow under the brim of Jensen's hat, ushering the dogs into the waiting SUV. "Are you asking my permission? Because you know how important premarital chastity is to me." Jensen bends to give Harley a boost; some days his hip bothers him and he can't make the jump on his own. "It's your house. Good morning Clif." "It's our house," Jared says. "Good morning Clif! Our house, Jensen and no, you absolutely may not invite your girlfriend. I refuse to allow you heathens to fornicate under my roof, in front of Jesus and everybody! And also! That woman is a soulless Gingerkid! A gosh-darned Judas-loving daywalker!" "Very funny" "I'm only trying to help you help yourself!" Clif leans down to knock his forehead against the steering wheel a few times. "I knew I should've taken that Miley Cyrus gig." "They've always worked us hard, but the days just feel like they never end, lately. I'm tired. Mom? You listening?" "Mmhmm." "Mom, did I tell you I finally got that tattoo I've been wanting? My own face, on my chest, larger than life-size. With the Dawson's Creek logo underneath it. Gotta pay homage to my greatest life accomplishment, you know? And your greatest life accomplishment, for that matter." "MmhmmI mean. What? Oh, Jensen. I'm listening. I'm just trying to untie this knot in my necklace. Your sister always borrows my things when she visits but she never puts them back properly." They're running so behind on shooting the next week that Jensen has to send a car to meet Danneel at the airport. "I'll probably make it back to the house by the time you get there, though," he

promises her voicemail. "Or... right after. There's a key under Sadie's water dish on the back porch because Jared is an idiot and wants me to be stolen away in the night. I love you. I'll see you soon. I'm sorry!" Four hours after she texts him (found the key, safe and sound and snooping through your house, come home before i find your porn!) Manners finally wraps for the day. "Well that took fucking forever. Bet Dan's thrilled she flew all this way to sit on our couch and clock-watch," Jared grumbles on the ATV ride back to their trailers. Jensen sighs and rests his forehead on Jared's shoulder. He's too tired to hold his own head up. "No kidding. I'm gonna take her out for a nice expensive steak dinner to make it up to... me. You coming?" "To dinner?" "No, in your pants, from the sheer sexual ecstasy of my head touching your arm." "Fucker." Jared shrugs him away. "No, I've, uh. I'm taking Genevieve to see Slumdog." There's a feeling that's something like disappointment churning around in his gut, but Jensen resolutely ignores it, plastering a grin to his face. "Yeah?" "You don't look surprised. Why don't you look surprised?" "I'm very observant. I saw the sparks flying over the crafts services table. Your pupils turn into little hearts when you look at her. You write JP-plus-GC in sparkly glitter gel pen on all the call sheets." Jared shoves him so hard Jensen almost falls out of the four-by-four, but Jared catches his sleeve and hauls him back in just in time. "Whatever." Jensen cackles delightedly. "You're blushing." "I'm not blushing. I'm breaking out in hives because I'm allergic to your toxic coffee breath. Tictacs, hello." "Bluuuuushing!" "Physical manifestation of my hatred of Jensen Ackles!" "Pink, girly blushing." Danneel is already tucked under the covers in Jensen's bed when he gets home. He smiles apologetically as she puts her book on his nightstand. "You're lucky you're rich," she says, sitting up. "Otherwise, I would totally ditch you and date my doorman. He's highly reliable." He laughs, toeing his boots off. "I know, I know. I'm sorry! Shooting ran forever. I was going to take you out to dinner. You want to go out to dinner?"

"It's ten-thirty, babe. I raided your kitchen like three hours ago. Are you and Jared suffering from manorexia? You are sorely lacking in chocolate, cheese, and simple carbohydrates." He climbs up on the bed and lowers himself over her body, locking his elbows to look down at her. She's got her glasses on, and she's taken off all her makeup. "Maybe. We're struggling with our body image because the media tells us no one will marry us unless we look like the women in Maxim and the stars of One Tree Hill. Speaking of which, you look incredible." "You look like the walking dead," she laughs. He sighs and slumps down to kiss her, slow and easy. After a moment, he pulls away, brushes his mouth over her collarbone, and tucks his head under her chin. "Did you have fun snooping through the house? Did you find my porn?" "Oh, I found it," she says. "I even watched a little. I attempted to get off, but your taste is way vanilla, Ackles." He snorts and closes his eyes. She runs her fingernails along the back of his neck, slow, soothing. She smells sweet and clean. "Sorry to disappoint." "Jared, on the other hand, has some interesting stuff. You should raid his stash once in a while. Enlighten yourself." "Missed you," he says. He feels her body quiver as she laughs. It's comforting, soft under him. He never wants to move ever again. "Baby," he says after a while. "I'm exhausted." She pushes at his shoulder gently, and he rolls off of the bed and undresses before climbing under the covers on the other side. Danneel takes off her glasses and sets them down on top of her book. "I'm too hot for you," she sighs. "Some men dream of coming home and finding me naked under their covers." "Naked, huh?" He lifts up the sheets and looks at her, the gorgeous brown curve of her body against his sheets. "Trust me, Dan, I dream of that every night. But I'm tired." She rolls her eyes and moves over so that her head is resting against his bicep. Jared's photos stare down at them from the ceiling, surrounded by glow-in-the-dark stars in a heart shape. "Something you need to tell me?" she laughs. "He super-glued them," Jensen says, "And then shellacked over them. They're indestructible. I'm pretty sure the only way to get rid of them would be to burn the entire house down." "Okay. Just so you know, we're never having sex while they're up there." "I never liked this house." -

Danneel stays for two weeks. It's almost unnerving, the way that she fits into their life like there's always been an empty place waiting for her. She gets up early every morning to work out with Jared. They do the six-mile loop around the neighborhood, and then Jensen wakes up to the sound of them laughing in the kitchen. He stays in bed, though, pretending he's still asleep until she comes in, sweaty and stunning, and coaxes him awake with her mouth low on his belly. She's low-maintenance, which is probably a strange thing to say about a woman with hair extensions and a fake tan. It's one of the things he loves most; he never has to worry about her. She keeps herself entertained while he's on set. She shops on Robson Street, she takes the ferry out to Victoria, she goes to the art gallery and the Reifel sanctuary. She swings by the lot and steals Harley and Sadie to run them ragged at Trout Lake. One night, he and Jared get home bruised and starving to find she's cooked them a three-course dinner. They laugh and drink Canadian beer and she beats them both at Scrabble because she's got all the weird two-letter words memorized, and then Jared falls asleep with his head in her lap. Jensen looks at them on the couch and thinks, things can not stay this good. On Danneel's last night in town, Genevieve rides back from the set with them. She sits in the back seat with Jared and when they walk into the house, they link their pinkies together and swing their arms. "You guys are nauseating," Jensen says from behind them. "Aw," Jared says, reaching out his free hand. "Don't be jealous, Jensen. God gave me two." Jensen jumps on Jared's back instead. "Carry me, bitch," he says, and Jared groans and staggers forward a little before adjusting his balance. He grabs Jensen's legs with both hands, strong fingers wrapped around Jensen's thighs, and Jensen instantly realizes that this was a bad idea. It's too late to jump off, though. Jared makes it all the way to the front door before he says, "I knew I shouldn't have let you near the Double-Stuf Oreos, goddamn," and lets Jensen slide off his back. They order in wings and pizza and cinnamon bread. There's a football game waiting on the TiVo. Jensen already knows that the Cowboys lost because Mackenzie texted him about it earlier, but he doesn't tell Jared. Half the fun is hearing the ridiculous obscenities Jared yells at Romo. When the food comes, they lock the dogs out of the living room and spread it out on the floor like a picnic. Danneel pops the top off the container of bleu cheese and dumps it over the entire box of wings, saying, "Finger foods are no fun if you don't get your hands dirty." Jared meets Jensen's eyes over the top of the girls' heads, and Jensen just shrugs. He really just wanted the pizza, anyway. Genevieve fits right into their dysfunctional little family. She matches Danneel's sarcasm shot-forshot and she thumb-wrestles Jensen for the last slice of pizza. Jensen watches the way Jared touches her, running his knuckles over her arm unconsciously. It's a strange thing for Jensen to be aware of. When they're finishing up their fourth bottle of wine, she gets up to use the bathroom, and Danneel says, "Jared, she's the cutest ever. I'm obsessed with her." She reaches for Jensen's glass of wine and drains it.

Jared grins and leans back against the couch, spreading his arms out over the cushions. "Yeah, I think I'll keep her," he says. Jensen says, "Mac texted me that the Cowboys lost." Jared gapes like a fish for a moment, but he's distracted when Gen comes back and plops herself down in his lap. He winds his arms around her waist and glares at Jensen over her shoulder. "Sorry," Jensen says, feeling his face go warm. "I don't know why I said that." Danneel leans her cheek against Jensen's arm. "You said it because you're kind of a dick." "Kind of," Jared echoes. "I think Jensen's just cranky because it's past his bedtime," Danneel says, standing up. "You coming?" Jensen nods and struggles to his feet. "You crazy kids be good," he tells Genevieve, not meeting Jared's eyes. While Jensen is picking up cardboard take-out containers, Jared kisses the back of Genevieve's neck and mumbles, "Are you staying?" She laughs and rolls her eyes, leaning back into his chest. "Take me to bed or lose me forever," she sighs. Jensen is taking his contacts out and Danneel is brushing her teeth when the noises start upstairs. Genevieve isn't quite as loud as the squeaky-toy girl, but she's not what Jensen would call quiet, either. Danneel's eyes widen and she bursts into laughter, toothpaste spraying on the mirror. "Oh my god!" Jensen sighs and shoves his glasses on. "Well they sure got right to the good stuff. Jesus." She spits in the sink and reaches for a hand towel. "No, Jensen, oh my God. You realize this probably means he's been able to hear us every night for the last two weeks?" A hot, dark feeling skips up Jensen's spine. "I didn't even think about that." "Is it always that loud? God, Jensen. Does he get laid often? How do you sleep? No wonder you're always tired." "He doesn'tnot thatJesus." Jensen grabs his cleanser and starts slathering it on. His face feels hot under his hands. "Turn on the iPod dock thingy," he says. "It'll drown them out." Danneel grins, slow and seductive, then she steps up behind him and presses up against his back. "I know another way we can drown them out," she says. She runs her palm over his chest, fingers skating over his ribs.

Upstairs, Genevieve cries out something that sounds like Oh god, don't stop and Jensen rolls his eyes. He splashes water onto his face. "Seriously," he says. "The iPod. Turn it up to eleven." "My red bean bag chair," Jensen says while Jeannie paints a bloody gash onto his face. "What'd you do with it?" "I have no idea what you're referring to," Jared says. He bites the head off of a gummy worm. His makeup was done ages ago; now he's just hanging around taking up space while Jensen gets gory and Genevieve gets her hair curled. "Yes, you do. It was red. It was a bean bag. It was a red bean bag chair." "No hablo Ingls," Jared says. "Lo seinto!" "Cago en tu leche!" Jensen snaps back. It's the only thing he remembers from high school Spanish. Someone had carved it into the surface of his desk a few years back. "What? What does that even mean?" "It means he'll poop in your milk," Genevieve says. They both blink at her and she shrugs. "It's true!" Jared makes a noise that resembles a parrot squawking while a cat dies. "What! Who even says that? Poop in my milk! I don't even have milk. And if I did, how would you go about pooping in it?" "I have my ways," Jensen says darkly. "So, what. I like, get up to make my cereal, andby the way, the box is on the counter because you never fucking put it away - and then it's like, bam, why is there Jensen poop floating in my cereal?" Genevieve snorts with laughter and Jared tosses a gummy at her. It bounces off her forehead but she catches it before it hits the ground. "You stole his bean bag chair?" she asks, the worm hanging halfout of her mouth. "No," Jared says. He's not looking at Jensen; only at Genevieve, like he's so enamored with her sloppy gummy-eating habits that he's forgotten anyone else is in the room. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and Jeannie slaps his hand away. "I simply forgot to retrieve it when I got the rest of his junk out of storage." Jensen frowns. "I love that chair. I bought it when I first came to Vancouver. It made the hotel room feel a little homier." "You bought it off some frat boy douchebag from UBC for three bucks," Jared says. "You were drunk!" "It's a great chair. Very comfortable."

Jared scowls. "Do you know how many things were probably spilled on that before you bought it? A lot of things. Bodily fluids. College-kid bodily fluids. I bet that chair has STDs. It smells like rotten feet." "It smells like roses!" Jensen screeches, outraged. "Sure. Rotten, feet-scented roses. It smells like poop in milk." "I'm going to get it out of storage. Today." "No way. I invited you to live in my house. Not your chair." Shannen pats Jensen's shoulder to let him know that she's finished bloodying him up. "Our house," Jensen says. "And I don't recall any chair-related causes in the contract." "There was no contract!" "And whose fault is that!? Not my problem you're an irresponsible landlord!" Jared sighs and grabs another handful of gummy worms. "Poop in my milk," he grumbles. The chair is the only thing left in the storage unit, shoved up in a corner. It does smell a little funky, and Jensen half-wishes that he'd never mentioned it, because he certainly can't concede now. When he gets home, Jared is in his pajama pants on the couch, reading. His tan is fading and the moles on his shoulders stand out in stark contrast. "Motherfucker," Jared hisses when he sees Jensen dragging the beanbag in. It's huge and the red is faded in places. Jensen bought it years ago, when they'd first put him in a long-term stay hotel for Smallville, because the bizarre blank sterility of the room freaked him out. Lots of things freaked him out back then, actually. He was a very freaked-out guy. The chair is pretty huge, and Jensen has to kind of waddle to get it through the living room. Jared doesn't offer to help, because Jared is a dick. He does, however, put his book down on the coffee table to follow Jensen down the hallway to his bedroom. "You're not serious," Jared says. "That thing is foul." "I love it," Jensen says. "It's my most prized possession." Jared stands in the doorway with his arms crossed over his head as Jensen arranges the chair in the corner. "It doesn't match your room." Jensen snorts. "Seriously! I'll have you know that I picked out soothing colors for your room. Googled it and everything, because you're an uptight douchenozzle, and faded-red-with-stains-that-are-probablypuke doesn't go with the color scheme." "I'm soothed!"

"It stinks! Seriously, Jensen. You can't tell me you don't smell that." Jensen fucking loves this. He'll never admit it in a million years, but his number one favorite thing to do in the whole world is to pretend to fight with Jared. "I think what you're smelling is the wind blowing back in your face." He picks up a script from his desk and gets comfortable on his bed, crossing his legs at the ankles. "See, you don't even want to sit on it." "I'll sit on it in private," Jensen says. "I just don't want you standing there, judging us." Jared stalks across the room, long strides, and picks up the chair. Jensen doesn't have time to escape before Jared's launched himself onto the bed, smothering Jensen with the bean bag. "SMELL IT!" Jared shouts. "It smells delicious!" Jensen tries to say, but it smells disgusting, so he's trying not to inhale, and he's got a bean-bag chair and two hundred pounds of muscle and whatever gummy worms are made of sitting on his face, so making words is not easy. "Surrender! Say you'll get rid of it!" "Never!" "I'm putting it in the dumpster!" "I'll put you in the dumpster, asshole!" "Oh yeah? Before or after you poop in my milk?" Jensen wriggles enough to send the chair and Jared crashing to the floor, but Jared rebalances and rolls just in time, so he ends up mostly on top of Jensen, the chair sliding out from between their bodies. The world suddenly becomes really, really small. That's the only way Jensen can explain it. He's got Jared's elbow in his ribs and Jared's sharp hip bone digging into his belly, and that's it, that's the whole world, him and Jared and Jared's breath in his face, Jared's bottom lip right there in front of him and it's all he can see. Jared gets this stunned, scared look on his face, and he starts to roll away. Jensen should let him, but he doesn't, he reaches out and grabs Jared's waist and pulls him back down. It's just a reflex; it happens in a fraction of a second and it takes Jensen's brain a beat to catch up. Jared landed on top of him, and tried to move, and Jensen held him there and made him stay. They've wrestled a million times beforeover remote controls and guitars and the last vegetable spring roll. Jensen doesn't know what's different about this time, what makes him slide his hand around to the small of Jared's back and tug him in even closer, but he does. Jared's face shifts and he suddenly bursts into motion, knee jamming into the meat of Jensen's thigh and then he's all the way across the room. "Whoa," Jensen says. He tries to sit up but his elbow looses traction beneath him.

Jared is silent for a minute, just staring at Jensen, his chest heaving like he's run a marathon, and then he clears his throat and grins and it's like none of it ever happened. "Let me know what you think of that script," he says, gesturing to the crumpled stack of pages beside Jensen on the bed, and then he leaves. Jensen hears Jared futzing around in the kitchen and the living room for a while, and then a little after eleven Jared shouts, "Staying at Genevieve's! See you tomorrow!" and the front door closes behind him before Jensen can even respond. In the morning, the dogs whine at Jensen's door and make it impossible to sleep. He gets up begrudgingly and takes them to the park, watches them tumble over each other in the grass while he sits on a bench and drinks coffee from a thermos. When they get back, Jared's car is in the driveway again and Jensen can hear the shower running upstairs. domestic bliss & other oxymorons - jared/jensen - adult - 2/3 Christmas hiatus kind of sneaks up on them. It's like one minute they're making some sorry excuse for a Thanksgiving dinner with Clif and Gen and Aaron Ashmore, and the next Jared's pacing around his trailer on the phone, saying, "Mama, chill, I'm just taking like, three days to go skiing with my girlfriend! I'll be home on Christmas Eve. Wouldn't miss it, in case Jeff pukes up eggnog in Granny's antique vase again." It's the first time Jensen hears Jared call Genevieve his girlfriend, and it makes Jensen lose his place on Guitar Hero. He can't find his rhythm again, so he tosses the guitar aside and sits, listening in on Jared's conversation unabashedly. Jensen probably got too comfortable in that weird limbo span of time between the break-up with Sandy and the rest of Jared's life - that handful of months where he was Jared's whole focus. He knows that. "Not taking Genevieve home to meet the family?" he asks when Jared tosses his phone onto the couch. Jared shrugs. "Not yet. Feels weird," he says. "Sandy..." He waves a hand in the air helplessly. Jensen gets it. Sandy was a hell of a presence in the Padalecki house at Christmastime. Jensen had never seen someone so tiny fill up a room so easily. "Yeah," Jensen says. He tips sideways and presses his shoulder against Jared's. "So," Jared says, clearing his throat. "I was thinking after Megan and I get back from our trip, I'd come up to Dallas for a bit? Charm your mother, hit on your sister, the usual?" Jensen elbows him in the ribs. "I'm going to Belize with Danneel on the first," he says. "Oh," Jared says. His brow furrows. He reaches for the guitar controller but doesn't push play. "So I guess I'll see your family sometime in the spring, then." "Yeah," Jensen replies. "There'll be plenty of time for my sister to reject your retarded pickup lines then."

"Yeah." Jared is sitting close; the seams of their jeans are lined up. "I didn't know you were going to Whistler before Christmas," Jensen says. "Otherwise" "Yeah, no. I didn't realize you were leaving after New Year's, so I guess I just figured" "Yeah." "It's just as well. I'm sick of you anyway." "No, you're not." Jensen sighs and plants a hand on Jared's thigh under the pretense of leveraging himself to stand up and steal a Snapple from Jared's fridge. "Yeah," Jared says. Belize is beautiful. They lay around mostly-naked the whole time. They eat too much. Jensen gets so sunburned that Danneel gasps when he takes off his leather bracelets to show her the stark white rings around his wrists. He drags her to the Mayan temples and she makes him strap on a tank and follow her down to the bottom of the ocean. It's perfect, all startling colors and the sharp sting of Danneel's quick wit. Jensen tries not to think about what it means that he's missing the wet-dog smell of Jared's couch and the hum of the air conditioner blasting in the middle of the winter. On their last night they get completely wasted. He slurps shots of tequila out of her belly button and feels her giggle against his mouth. They fuck on the beach behind their bungalow and he's so far gone, so dizzy with booze and the taste of her, that he doesn't even care about the sand or the bugs or the possibility that someone could walk by and see. After, he feels needy and clingy. He wants to drag her back to Vancouver with him, he wants her to hang around their kitchen in her workout clothes drinking wine and acting as a human buffer against all of the things he wants from Jared and can't ask for. He sucks a kiss against the knob of bone at the top of her spine and slurs, "Danneel. Dan. Do I make you happy?" She laughs and pulls his arm across her midsection. "I'm the happiest I've ever been, babe," she says in her chirpy voice. It only occurs to him the next day at LAX - as he's rushing their goodbyes to make his connection to Vancouver - that she didn't really answer his question. "So now I'm just trying to figure out if there are any special beanbag chair cleaning services, or if I'm just going to have to get used to this, like when I shared a room with Josh for so long I barely noticed his foot odor anymore." "Mmhmm."

"Are you listening?" "Mmhmm." Jensen sighs. "Mom, I've decided to convert to Scientology, and I'd like to suggest that you and Dad join me in pouring our life savings into auditing sessions to exorcise the evil spirits and false memories that Xenu implanted in our brains when he enslaved us and our brothers and sisters from throughout the galaxy." "Mmhmmwhat? Oh, Jensen. I'm listening! Don't be silly." Kim's memorial is on a grey Thursday, just outside Santa Barbara. Danneel and Genevieve both end up stuck in New York, snowstorms grounding their flights. On the way to the service Jared says, "It's just as well, you know?" and Jensen understands exactly what he means. When Kim's daughter gets up to the podium to speak, the wind whipping her hair around her face, Jared bumps his hand against Jensen's and Jensen thinks, fuck it, and grabs Jared by the wrist. He doesn't let go until they're on their way back to the airport. When they land in Vancouver, Jensen has to head straight for the lot to shoot a hospital scene with Misha. "I'll see you back at the house, then?" Jensen tells Jared when the car pulls up to the studio. He's exhausted and his eyes are burning. He's crazy jealous that Jared gets to go home. "Nah," Jared says. He follows Jensen out of the SUV. "I'm gonna hang out for a while, watch you do your thing." "But you've got a whole day of work tomorrow," Jensen says. "Don't you wanna get some sleep? Get in a little gym time?" Jared shoots him this weird, desperate look, like don't make me leave, and Jensen nods. "On the other hand," he says, throwing an arm over Jared's shoulders, "Having you hanging around will definitely help me nail the whole I'm-surrounded-by-assholes look. You better stay." It's still early when they get home, but Jensen climbs into bed without taking off his jeans. He takes two Xanax and stares at the ceiling. The edges of one of Jared's headshots are torn a little from where Danneel managed to get her fingernails underneath. She'd never gotten around to tearing the whole thing down, though, because her shirt had ridden up and then there were all these perfect inches of skin for Jensen to slide his mouth over. She'd gotten distracted. He takes another Xanax and finally feels his brain slow down and his limbs go heavy. He doesn't sleep, though. He goes up to Jared's room a little after midnight. Jared is awake, lying in the dark. The skin around his eyes is puffy.

Jensen sits down backwards on Jared's desk chair, straddling the back. He leans his chin on the edge. "Can't sleep," he says. "Three Xanax, and I still can't fucking sleep." Jared curls onto his side in bed, facing Jensen. "I thought he had more time." "So did everybody." Jensen sighs. "So did he." "Don't ever die," Jared blurts, the words tumbling over each other. Jensen's eyelids feel heavy. He's pretty stoned, and it's warmer in Jared's room than it is in the rest of the house. "Won't," Jensen says. "I will be around to torment you for a hundred more years." "Sounds good," Jared says. He's got his comforter wrapped up around him up to his neck, so he's just this wild-eyed head and mop of messy hair. "You don't die either. You're like the most important person in my whole life." Jared makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat. Jensen figures that the noise means, Okay, I promise not to die, and then he closes his eyes and it's morning. He wakes up in Jared's desk chair with a million aches and pains and a post-it stuck to his forehead. FILMING. CALL ME. Jensen groans and struggles to his feet. He considers going downstairs, but his body is still warm and sluggish from the pills. He face-plants in Jared's bed and sleeps until it's dark again. When Jared leaves for six days of movie promotion, Jensen is fucking delighted. He cranks up the thermostat, deletes all the UFC from the TiVo on principle, and feeds the dogs straight from his plate. He stays up late on the couch in his underwear, watching TV with the volume cranked all the way up. The second day is less exciting. The table-read is no fun without Jared flubbing his lines on purpose and throwing his head back with laughter every time Dean makes a stupid joke. Jared calls on Friday night. It's not too late; Jensen is still eating dinner, spaghetti and meatballs he ordered from that Italian place Jared likes. "I'm bored. Come home," Jensen says when he answers the phone, flipping a meatball off of his fork and into Harley's mouth. There's a burst of noise from the other end of the line, Jared and Danneel and Genevieve all talking at once about the movie and Wes Craven and how Jared accidentally got his photo taken with powdered sugar from his donut on his face. "Stay classy, Padalecki," Jensen says. He hits the speakerphone on his blackberry. "Whatever," Jared says. When his voice bursts, loud and sharp, out of Jensen's phone, the dogs trot over to sit by Jensen's knee. "I'm gonna be so famous now. You're gonna have people falling all over you, like oh my god, you know Jared Padalecki? Is his hair really as fantastic as it looks in the pictures?"

"It's fantastic," Danneel says. "Jensen, why isn't your hair this fantastic?" "You're wasted," Jensen laughs. "All of you. Where the hell are you guys?" "In the car on the way back to Danneel's condo," Genevieve says. "We're having a slumber party," Danneel explains. "I wouldn't let them go back to the hotel." "Don't worry, Jensen," Jared shouts. "I've got plenty of lovin' to go around. Your girl is going to sleep tonight more satisfied than she's been in yearsow! Jesus, Gen, you'll get yours, too, hello." "Sharing is caring," Jensen says, shaking his head. "Crap, we're going into the canyon. Jensen?" "We miss you!" Danneel calls. Jared makes an outraged noise and says, "That is a completely false statement!" before the call cuts out. Sadie lets out a long whine and rolls onto her back. Jensen scratches her belly and sighs. Jensen stays up late that night, flipping channels. He watches the Sham-Wow infomercial four times. Eventually, he reaches for his cell phone. His fingers hover over the keys, deciding, before he hits 2 to speed-dial Danneel's cell, even though she's not really the one he wants to call. It rings for ages, and Jensen is getting ready to leave a message when Jared says, "Hey, man." His voice is quietly weary, a stark contrast to the way he sounded earlier. "You're up late." "Danneel! You sound different," Jensen says. Jared laughs. "Sorry, sorry. Everyone's asleep - Danneel left her cell in the kitchen and I heard it ring from the guestroom. Figured it could only be you, so..." "Nah, just a fluke. Dan has lots of strange men calling her in the middle of the night. What are you doing up? Haven't you been a promo machine since the crack of dawn this morning?" "I'm exhausted," Jared says. "But I can't sleep for shit. I miss my own bed. How are the dogs?" "Celebrating your absence. They don't miss you at all. They want me to adopt them officially." "They tell you that?" "Yes. They call me Dad when you're out of earshot. Sadie also says the place smells better without you around to sweat on every available surface." "You miss me so much," Jared decides. "You cry at night without me." "Right."

"What are you doing?" "Watching the Sham-Wow commercial. Again, and again." "I'll buy you one, Jensen," Jared says solemnly. "For your tears." Jensen chuckles and stands up, tucking the phone against his ear and shuffling into the kitchen to eat some dry cereal. "So what's the matter?" "What? Nothing" "Dude. It's late. Just tell me." "It was a weird night, is all," Jared says. "I was so tired I could barely stand up, and justwatching the movie brought back some crappy memories from this summer, with Sandy. And I don't know for sure whether this movie was the right choice, like, for my career. And I miss my mom. My agent keeps hounding me about figuring out something to do this summer. AndI'm feeling a little lost, I don't know" Jensen leans against the kitchen counter. "Did you drink vodka?" he asks finally. "You always get so maudlin when you drink vodka." Jared laughs. "Might've drunk some vodka," he says. His voice is soft and tired. "You're great, Jay, c'mon," Jensen says. "The movie's going to do great, andyou did what you had to do, this summer. And now everything's great, right? Call your mom in the morning. Then just fuckin'... I don't know. Come home. You're great." "You kind of suck at pep talks." "What? Don't you feel better?" "Yeah, man. I feel grrrrrrreat." "Bite me." "You miss me so much, dude; it's kind of sad. You're watching your Gilmore Girls DVDs right now and Googling 'Jared and Jensen BFF' to remind yourself of the good times." "I'm changing the locks," Jensen says. "I don't feel comfortable sleeping in the same house as you anymore." Jared laughs, and then things go quiet. It's always an easy, amicable silence with Jared. Jensen's good just standing there, watching the clock on the microwave flash. Jared clears his throat after a moment. "Jensen, I, um." "Yeah?" "Nothing, go to sleep. I'll see you on Sunday." "If I decide not to change the locks," Jensen says, hitting the button to end the call. He frowns at his

phone for a moment, and then the dogs start barking upstairs. Jensen goes up and finds both of them sitting in front of the closed door of Jared's bedroom, so he opens the door. They scurry in and hop up on the bed happily. Harley rests his head on Sadie's back. Jensen hesitates in the doorway. It's late, and he's getting picked up pretty early. He should go to bed. He should go to bed in his own room. Sadie barks, and Jensen crosses the room and shoves the dogs over a little, making room to lie down on Jared's bed. It smells like him, warm and familiar. There's a picture of his family on the nightstand and a stack of dog-eared books on the floor underneath. Jensen rolls his eyes at his own ridiculousness. "Jesus fucking Christ," he grumbles. He stands up and glares at the dogs. "We'll never speak of this again," he tells them, and then he goes downstairs and jerks off, resolutely thinking about Danneel and her perfect boobs. He only ends up getting an hour of sleep before his alarm goes off. It's not a good day. "Mom. I think Danneel and I are over," he says. It's the first time he's said it out loud, and mostly he was just trying it out, seeing how it sounds once it's out there in the universe. As soon as he says it, though, he knows that it's true. "Mmhmm." Jensen just waits. He doesn't have the energy to be clever or cute. It takes her a minute, but then she gasps and he hears the television in the background turn off. "Oh, honey," she says. He locks his jaw, grinding his back molars against each other, but it's no use. He cries a little anyway. Danneel is a smart girl. It takes her exactly thirty seconds of his half-hearted Valentine's Day phone call to get annoyed. "Something's wrong," she insists. "Tell me what's wrong." He's not going to be that kind of asshole, though, so he says, "Seriously, I'm good! Did you like the necklace? Have the flowers arrived?" She's not buying it. It's unlike her, but she calls a lot over the next few days, sounding more agitated every time. Finally, on Tuesday night, Jensen caves and says, "I'm feeling a little bit overwhelmed." "I'm overwhelming you now? I haven't seen you in like a month," she says. "Not you! Just, everything. Work, mostly," he lies. "I just worry that I can't give you enough, that I can't be what you deserve."

She doesn't take the bait and she doesn't give him an easy out. "I don't ask anything of you, Jensen," she says, and hangs up. Later, she demands to know if he's seeing somebody else. "Jesus," he says. "No. Of course not." She's quiet for a moment. "That should make me feel slightly better. But it doesn't." On Wednesday, Jared changes the message on the whiteboard. YOU REALLY NEED TO CHANGE YOUR FUCKING RING TONE. Jensen scowls and wipes out half of Jared's writing with the side of his hand, scrawling sloppily underneath. YOU REALLY NEED TO FUCK OFF FOREVER. The last conversation with Danneel is a pretty bad one. He should've expected it; she's not the type to let things go without a fight. "You're the worst kind of asshole," she tells him, "because you're the kind of asshole who thinks he's a really nice guy, when really, he is an asshole." "Danny" "No. I get it, okay? You're over it; I wasted two years on you, whatever. But you should know that this isn't okay. At all. I don't know what's going on with you, but I made sacrifices for you, Jensen. I turned my whole life upside down for you and I spent two years letting you off the hook for everything. So you're an asshole." "I don'tDanneel." "No, that's it. You're an asshole. The end. Goodbye." The worst part is that she's right. Jensen gets out of bed when he hears Jared wrangling the dogs the next morning, even though it's still dark out and Jensen's alarm isn't set to go off for a good hour. The hems of his pajama pants drag on the floor. He thinks they might be Jared's. "Hey, man," Jared says from where he's kneeling on the kitchen floor with the leashes in his fist. "Did we wake you? Sorry, they're being loud today. Harley's in a mood, aren't you boy? Aren't you?" "Danneel and I are seeing other people," Jensen says abruptly. It's kind of a lie; it implies that things aren't over, that this isn't permanent. Jensen is pretty sure it's permanent. He's pretty sure Danneel knows that.

Jared's face comes crashing down. "Shit, Jensen." He stands up so fast he nearly brains himself on an open cupboard door. Jensen grinds his back molars down hard and stares resolutely at the floor. Jared has huge fucking feet. His skinny ankles look ridiculous attached to them, legs poking up out of his sneakers. When he finally looks up, Jared is just staring at him with this horrified, devastated, tragic expression on his face. Jensen isn't sure why he was expecting something else. Of course Jared's upset; Jared loves Danneel. "Don'tyou don't have to stop hanging out with her, or anything," Jensen blurts. "I know you love her." "Jesus, that's notyou and Danneel, I always thought that was working. Like, really working. All the phone calls lately, I thought..." Jared swallows, looks down. "I thought for sure you were gonna drag me ring shopping this weekend." Jensen crosses his arms over his bare chest, hugging himself. It's freezing in this house. "Yeah. Well, 'm not." Jared still looks kind of miserable, and not really in the your life sucks, I feel bad for you way. It's much closer to Jared's woe is me face. Jensen doesn't really get it. Finally, Jared steps forward and wraps his orangutan arms around Jensen. Jensen puts up the requisite struggle for only a fraction of a second before he just tips over into the embrace, resting his chin on Jared's shoulder. "You wanna come running?" Jared asks when he pulls back, turning to get a Gatorade from the fridge. "It's a good way to clear your head, gear up for the day." Jensen scoffs. "Fuck you. I'm going back to bed." He glares down at Harley. "Be less loud, mutt!" Harley barks, earsplitting and over-eager. Jensen barks right back at him and then heads back to bed. "Those are my pajama pants," Jared shouts down the hall after him. "Not anymore!" "You're so obsessed with me." Jared works late shooting some bloody demon sex thing with Genevieve a few nights later. Jensen's grateful for the night off. Misha invites him out to dinner, but Jensen begs off in favor of going home to feel sorry for himself in private. It turns out that self-pity gets old pretty quick, though. Jensen writes his sister a long email about how he's not an asshole, and he's especially not the kind of asshole who doesn't know he's an asshole. He watches half of a crappy Paul Walker movie. He's planning to eat cereal for dinner, but when he opens the cereal cabinet all he finds is a post-it note with Jared's handwriting. IF YOU

CAN'T PUT THE CEREAL AWAY YOURSELF YOU DO NOT DESERVE TO HAVE IT. YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T LIVE HERE. Jensen scowls and orders in Mexican food instead. He puts it on Jared's credit card. Douchebag. He's been sitting and staring at the wall for a good ten minutes when he sighs, checks the clock, and climbs the stairs to Jared's room. It's not that he's curious, or anything. He's just bored, and he's already explored all the entertainment that the ground floor can offer him. Jared has a lot of books upstairs. Jensen isn't much of a reader, usually, but maybe he is now. Maybe new-and-improved single Jensen Ackles is a big literature buff on boring Thursday nights. The books on the desk don't look particularly appealing, and the pile on the floor next to Jared's bed is full of depressing shit like The Last Lecture and two books about the war in the Middle East. The DVD sticking out from where it's been forgotten under the nightstand catches Jensen's eye right as he's about to straighten up. It's pretty boring as far as porn goesthe same Pirates of the Caribbean spoof that Jensen's seen in every single one of his friends' houses over the last few years. He's pretty sure he's got his own copy downstairs. Jensen kicks it back into the shadows under the bed and recalls Danneel saying you should raid his stash once in a while. Enlighten yourself. He's like ninety-nine percent sure she didn't actually go on a porn-hunt - though there's no telling with herbut his interest is piqued anyway. He's opening Jared's closet before he really considers what he's doing. There's nothing in there but clothes and shoes - and scripts, stacks of them that go way into the back of the huge walk-in. Jensen looks at a couple of the titles. They're mostly gigs Jared wanted but didn't get. It's pretty typical of Jared, actually: all bravado on the outside, look at me and my huge arms and my stupid hair, while he keeps piles of his own failures in a place where they'll confront him every morning while he's picking out his jeans. Jensen just kind of keeps digging around, after that. There's an unpaid speeding ticket on the desk. There's a stack of hilariously embarrassing pictures from the Friday the 13th set on the TV stand. All of Jensen's cereal boxes are lined up beside the laptop. On the wall, there are four post-it notes, each with a different summer project written on them. Jared's very visual; he likes something to look at when he's trying to make an important decision. He finds the porn in Jared's dresser, underneath nine million neatly-folded white v-neck t-shirts. It's kind of amusing that Jared is twenty-six years old and still hiding his spank bank like a ninth grader with a nosy little sister. (Never mind that Jensen's meager stash is in his bathroom cupboard behind a wall of toilet paper rolls. His mom has a history of surprise visits. He's totally justified.) It's not remotely surprising at firstmostly lesbian stuff, mostly tiny brunettes. There's an old Jenna Jameson flick and an unmarked camcorder tape that Jensen is absolutely not curious about. At all. At the bottom of the stack, there's a DVD that gives Jensen pause. There are two guys on the cover, all strong shoulders and sharp jaw lines. Their hands are all over each other, mouths crushed together, and Jensen hardly notices the girl, caught between them like a forgotten accessory. The doorbell rings - the delivery guy from La Hacienda - and Jensen's entire body jerks in surprise.

He shoves the DVDs back under the shirts, gathers up his cereal boxes, and half-trips out into the hall and down the stairs. In the morning, Jared's changed the whiteboard again. YOU REALLY NEED TO NOT SNOOP THROUGH MY SHIT. They don't talk about it. Jensen quietly hopes that Jared's just talking about the cereal. They have a few hours off one morning and Jensen gets up early to take Harley to the park. He's not a morning person, so it's a rare occasion, but he's got to be on set in four hours anyway. He might as well use the part of the day he's got to himself. He gets a bagel with cream cheese and one with egg and sausage. He gives the entire sausage one to Harley, piece by piece, on the walk home. When he gets in the door, Jared is walking down the hall with his hands in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face. Jensen pauses and listens to water hum through the pipes in the walls. "Oh my god," he says, dropping Harley's leash. Jared won't meet his eyes, but he's suddenly grinning hysterically. He looks like the Joker on crack. "What?" "Is that the sound of the toilet flushing? Did you just bust a grumpy in my bathroom?!" "No." "You did!" Jared bursts into laughter. His knees actually buckle under him, and he laughs his way to the floor, howling, pounding his fist against the tile. "I always do," he finally wheezes out. "You poop in my bathroom when I'm not home!??!!" He's still laughing his stupid ass off. Harley starts to howl in response, and Sadie trots in to see if there's a wild animal dying in here. "It's closer! Also, I don't like my bathroom to smell bad!" "Your entire life smells bad!" Jensen screeches. He's not proud of the high note he hits. He wrangles his voice back down to a lower register. "I hate you." "You love me," Jared cackles. Jensen gets the strongest duct tape he can find out of the tool box they keep under the sink. While Jared is in the gym, he goes upstairs and rigs Jared's toilet to spew water all over him next time he flushes.

When Jared heads up after his workout, Jensen sits at the bottom of the stairs with the dogs and waits. Jared's scream hits a higher register than Jensen's voice has ever reached in his lifetime. "Victory," Jensen tells the dogs smugly. "Now, go on, Harley. Go upstairs and fart on his bed like a good pup. I don't buy you those sausage sandwiches for my health." It's a hard day on location. The days have been getting more demanding in generalthey're winding down the season and Dean Winchester's life is getting steadily more miserable. Jensen and Jared are hardly ever in the same place at the same time, and lately, Jensen finds himself wishing he'd just stayed in Texas and become a sports agent more and more often. Today it was just him and Misha and their latest guest star in New Westminster. It's a long ride back to the house at the end of the day. Jensen texts Jared my bones are creaking, i am too old for this shit, and then ten minutes later warm up the tivo for me, tell it not to worryi will be home soon. Jared shoots back: sorry man you will have to do the tivo foreplay yourself, im at the bar with jerry from props. Jensen tries not to feel too disappointed. Jared spent the day dubbing dialogue in the AVR, so it makes sense that he'd want to actually do something tonight that doesn't involve sitting on his ass, drinking Jensen's beer, and cringing in awkward sympathy for Michael Scott. Jensen, on the other hand, has been on his feet for the last twelve hours; he doesn't want to move a muscle. Ever again. Still. Jared could've at least invited him. Jensen wouldn't have said yes or anything, but... whatever. He's annoyed with himself for even having the thought at all. His own lame clinginess is horrifying once in a while. Once he's home, his first stop after scratching behind Harley's ears and letting Sadie lick at his hands is the fridge. He grabs himself a beer, but the frozen pizza he bought last week is MIA. He checks underneath the bottle of the cheap rum that Jared likes; he checks behind the eighty million ice packs that Jared keeps frozen in case he injures himself in the gym or, like, murders someone and needs to cool a body down to alter the forensic timeline. Finally he scowls and grabs the dry-erase marker. YOU REALLY NEED TO STOP EATING MY FOOD JESUS CHRIST Jensen hears Jared come in a little before three in the morning, waking up just enough to glance at the clock disapprovingly. When Jensen wakes up in the morning, Jared is still asleep. The dogs are milling around the living room, restless, and Jensen lets them out to tear across the backyard before he goes upstairs to Jared's room. Jared is face down on his bed, snoring. Jensen plants a knee on the back of Jared's thigh and puts a little weight on him. Jared groans unhappily into his pillow. He reeks of cigars.

"Get up," Jensen says. Then he goes downstairs and waits for Clif to show up. Jared has added YOU CAN JUST CALL ME JESUS. NO NEED FOR SUCH FORMALITY! under his note. He's been waiting in the car for almost twenty minutes when Jared finally finishes fixing his hair and comes out, muttering "Sorry, sorry." Jensen closes his eyes and leans against the window. "I mean, I know that a seven-dollar frozen pizza isn't the end of the world. It's the principle of the thing, you know? If he'd asked, I'd have let him have it. Maybe. I'd have at least shared it. I might have even given him the bigger piece!" "Mmhmm." "Mom?" "Mmhmm." "Mom, I'm pregnant. With Siamese twins. I'm going to name them Chris and Topher and raise them in Montreal so they can have little French-Canadian accents because getting beat up in school is character-building. They'll grow up to be as rich as Bill Gates." "Mmhmmwhat? Jensen, for God's sake. I'm listening; I am just trying to find Cow. He needs to be brushed and he knows it, so he's hiding from me. Did I tell you he pooped in your father's closet again? He pooped in your father's closet again." The logical part of Jensen's brain knows that there's no scorecard; it's not a competition. The not-sological part says that if Jared went out this week, Jensen has to go out this week, too. Otherwise, he's going to turn into the kind of person who thinks a rockin' Friday night means a couple reruns of That 70s Show and falling asleep with his hand in his shorts. Jensen is not that kind of person. He's got plenty of friends in Vancouver, collected over the years. It's not really his fault that they've all slipped to the backburner. He works a lot, and there's Jared. Jared is a very demanding kind of friend to have. He manages to suck up all of Jensen's spare time without Jensen even noticing until the sun is down and they're still on the back porch, talking about the same shit they were talking about that morning. On his next day off, he scrolls through the contacts in his phone and calls a few buddies he hasn't seen in a whileRyan and Anderson and Fletcher. He says, "Rally the troops!" and they all laugh; they say they'll meet him at McGinley's. He's looking forward to it: a night out without Jared lighting up the whole room, making the world his audience. He heads out just as Clif is pulling out of the driveway and Jared is trudging up the porch steps miserably. He's got dark circles under his eyes and the sleeves of his shirt are all stretched out at the wrists from Jared pulling on them all day. He does that when he's stressed.

"Dude," Jensen says, swinging his car-keys around on a finger. "Long day?" "I hate Sam Winchester," Jared says. He walks right into Jensen, like he's going for a hug or something, but he doesn't actually raise his arms, he just stoops over in Jensen's personal space and face-plants into Jensen's shoulder. Jensen's hands move to Jared's back instinctively; he brushes his knuckles down Jared's spine. Jared laughs, shaking his head, and steps back. "Sorry," he says. "You smell good. You going out?" "Yeah. What are you doing tonight?" Jared shrugs. "Genevieve is going to New York for the weekend, so I was going to take her to dinner. I'm trying to figure out if I can bail without being too much of a dick, though. All I want to do is go cry in the shower where no one can hear me weep, and go to bed. This shit is endless. Work, work, sleep, work." "Yeah. Speaking of, have you decided what you're doing over hiatus?" Jared groans. "Don't remind me. I don't want to talk about it." "Come to the bar with me," Jensen blurts. He's the lamest person he knows, but there's only so much a guy can lie to himself. Bars always feel quiet without Jared there. They're never warm enough. "Okay," Jared says. No hesitation, like he wasn't just saying he had plans with his girlfriend that he might cancel for a date with his pillow. "Did you" "Yeah, fed them and walked them." He nods. "Then let's just go." "You need to grab your wallet or anything?" "Nope," Jared says. He tosses an arm over Jensen's shoulder and they walk to the driveway like that. "You're buying all my drinks." Jared's phone rings once when they're on their way. He barely glances at the screen before he tucks it back into his holster. Jared has only met these guys once or twice, a couple years ago. He remembers all of their names right off the bat anyway, saying, "Did you ever finish that screenplay you were working on?" and "How's that daughter of yours? She was just a couple months old last time I saw you, right?" and "Shots, motherfuckers!" Jensen wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn't. He just watches Jared over the rim of his glass. The bar is dark and loud. There's a band set up in a corner and a thick crowd of people in front, voices crashing together above the music. The lead guitarist is beautiful underneath her heavy eyeliner. Jensen watches a woman old enough to be his mom dancing alone, lost in her head, her glass slopping vodka over the edges. Jared gets a little punchy and decides to take on half the bar

over at the dartboard. Anderson and Ryan and Fletch keep buying ridiculous shooters, repeating the same lecture that just because Jensen's almost a possible quasi-celebrity he doesn't get to bail on his buddies. The alcohol disintegrates the night pretty fast. Jensen experiences it in a series of blurry snapshots: The sharp slice of limejuice over his taste buds when he knocks back a shot of SoCo; the way the hot guitarist laughs when he demands that they play "Freebird;" the slip-slide of sweat on the back of Jared's neck when Jensen grabs him and hauls him to the bar to help him tell a story. The hot guitarist has a tongue ring. Jensen learns that when she catches him by his shirt pocket and drags him into a booth in the back of the back room. It's late; people are going home, but not Jensen's people, and that's what matters. He's kissing the guitarist, and maybe she's got her knee up against his crotch at just the right angle, when Anderson sticks his head and shoulders into the room and says, "Jensen, your boy is obliterated. Obliterated!" The bathrooms are down in the basement, and he finds Jared on the floor of one of them, sitting back against the wall. His legs are so long, splayed out in front of him, that they stretch into the next stall and the one after that. "You here to hold my hair back?" Jared asks when Jensen comes into the stall. Jensen grins. "I'm here to take pictures for my online journal, bitch." "I didn't barf," Jared says, ignoring him. "I was gonna, but then... not." Jensen sits down cross-legged on the floor across from Jared. It's an ugly moment, just the two of them and the stained toilet bowl, harsh yellow light and the obscenities scrawled on the wall. Jared reaches out and rubs his thumb against Jensen's knee, where his jeans are going soft, at the little spot where they're going to rip pretty soon. He feels it the moment Jared's touch changes. His thumb slides up and then his whole hand is on Jensen's knee, his long fingers curling into the bend, pushing through the folds of fabric. Jensen looks up, but Jared isn't looking at him. He's looking down at his own legs disappearing under the stall divider. Jensen drops his arm limply so his hand hits Jared's leg, just to put a part of himself in Jared's line of vision. Jared keeps touching him, too. His hand squeezes Jensen, slides up until his palm is curved around the meat of Jensen's lower thigh. He rubs at the seam of his jeans. "I thought it was gonna get better," Jared says. "When you moved in." His words slur together messily; Jensen isn't totally sure he even hears him right. "It's gotten worse. Which is also kind of better." "What has?" Jared laughs. He's still not looking at Jensen, just Jensen's hand, resting palm-up on Jared's leg. In the women's room next door, someone flushes a toilet, and their little corner on the floor of the men's room is loud as the water rushes through the pipes. "Hey, if I do something, you promise not to remember in the morning?" "Yes," Jensen says quickly, and his heart kicks on like someone just flipped a switch. He can feel it

beat and speed up. He's got a sudden hyper-awareness for every involuntary thing happening in his body. Jared goes quiet for a little while, serious and thoughtful, and then he shakes his head. He laughs again, with his head tilted back and the mole under his jaw right at Jensen's eye level. "Something funny?" Jensen asks. "Not even a little," Jared says, but he's still laughing. He takes his hand off of Jensen's leg. He moves Jensen's hand, too, picks it up by the wrist and drops it back in Jensen's lap. "What were you gonna do?" "What?" It takes him two tries to standthe first time he slips and jams his hip against the toilet, but the second time he makes it. He doesn't offer Jensen a hand up, even though Jared is the whole reason Jensen is sitting on the floor in a bathroom in the first place. On the floor in a bathroom, instead of upstairs making out with hot guitar girl and her tongue ring and her wandering hands. Upstairs, Ryan and Anderson and Fletcher are long gone, and the stools are up on the bar. The cab ride home costs eleven dollars, and Jared is inside rolling around on the floor with his dogs before Jensen even finishes fishing money out of his wallet. Jensen's hangover lasts forever. He wakes up the next day with a stiff neck and a splitting headache, and the day after that he's still feeling sluggish and achy, dragging ass around the set. It's a slow day, luckilytwo different motel room scenes, with some healthy downtime in between while the crew redresses the set. Jensen goes back to Jared's trailer instead of his own. Jared's smells like wet dog on a good day and egg salad farts on a bad day, but he's got a bigger couch, and Jensen wants to lie down, like forever. Jared is on the phone when Jensen knocks. He silently offers Jensen a tootsie roll from a huge jar on his counter, but Jensen ignores him to belly-flop onto the couch. "Babe," Jared says into his cell phone. "Maybe you should tell them you don't need the hotel room this time." Jensen rolls over onto his belly. Jared is standing in front of his fridge, staring into it like he believes that if he wishes hard enough, something other than half a flat Dr. Pepper will appear on the shelves. "Hey," Jared says. "I'm just trying to look out for their profit margin, okay? Hotel rooms are not cheap, Genevieve!" He laughs at something she says, and when he speaks again, his voice is low and soft. "C'mon, stay with me. I promise to try really hard not to steal the covers. And I've almost got Jensen housebroken." When they hang up, Jared says, "You too," and Jensen wonders if Genevieve said I love you or I miss you or I can't wait to see you. Jared sits down on the floor in front of the couch, picking up the controller and starting up Mario

Kart. "You figured out what you're doing this summer yet, man?" he asks. Jensen grunts. "Weighing my options," he says. Jared looks over his shoulder at Jensen. "Go to sleep," he says, his bangs falling over his eyes. "I'll keep it on mute." Jensen wants to reach out and rake his fingers through Jared's hair. He's been getting urges like that a lot lately. It's pretty annoying. Jensen's life sucks. He sleeps until Jessica knocks on the door and tells them to get their asses to makeup for touch-ups. Mario Kart is paused, and Jared is slumped back against the couch, the back of his head resting on the bony part of Jensen's hip. Sadie's head is in his lap. Jensen sits up. There's a hair in his mouthprobably from one of the dogs. He doesn't even want to think about how much dog hair he's probably accidentally consumed since he started hanging around with Jared. He tries to spit it out, tongue scraping across his teeth. Jared laughs. "Here," he says, twisting up on his knees. He takes Jensen's chin in one hand and swipes his index finger inside Jensen's lower lip, brushing the underside of his tongue. "Got it." He holds his finger up, slick with Jensen's spit, the little hair attached to it. "Oh," Jensen says, stupid, his face heating up. "Pretty gross," Jared says. "You're probably so sick of that, huh?" "No," Jensen says. Honest, blunt. He's too sleepy, too run-down to be any other way. Jared blinks in surprise. Jessica knocks again. "I wasn't playing pretend before when I said time to go," she shouts. "It's time to freakin' go!" Genevieve has two tiny dogs named Liv and Indy. Sadie regards them with cool disinterest. Harley regards them like he's not sure if they're chew toys or breakfast that walks. They bite Jensen's ankles when no one is looking. If Jensen ignores the band-aids on his ankles, Genevieve is a pretty good houseguest. She makes amazing French toast and she even whips her own cream to go on top. The house smells like her grapefruit shampoo for hours after she showers. She takes Jensen's side nine times out of ten when they're deciding what to watch on the TiVo. Jared is handsier with her than he ever was with Sandy. They're always wrapped up together on the couch, and he's always grabbing onto her in the kitchen, biting her neck right there when all Jensen wanted to do was get a beer. When the three of them run lines in the truck on the way to work, Jared says his lines about Ruby being a bitch with one hand all tangled up in Genevieve's hair. Still, she's a pretty good houseguest, except for at night. On the first night, Jensen lies in bed staring at the map of Dallas he's taped over Jared's photos on his ceiling, getting steadily more pissed-off as her moans escalate upstairs. It's not just noise with Genevieve; it's actual words. "Oh god, that's so good, right there!" and "You're amazing, don't stop!"

On the second night, he gets out of bed and goes to the living room and fires up the laptop. He types Vancouver Real Estate into Google and falls asleep on the couch before he has a chance to click through the results. In the morning, Genevieve wakes him up with French toast and fresh orange juice, completely depriving him of the opportunity to be bitter. On the third night, she cries out, "Oh, Jared, fuck me," and he throws off his covers and stomps down the hall to the kitchen. YOU REALLY NEED TO HAVE QUIETER SEX When Jared slams Jensen's door open in the morning, he nearly blows it off its hinges. The doorknob hits the wall and crashes easily through the plaster. Jensen is ripped out of sleep unceremoniously, and he's barely got time to open his eyes before Jared hurls the dry-erase board at his head. It only just misses. "You have to be fucking kidding me," Jared roars. Jensen fumbles for his glasses. Jared is heated as hellJensen can tell right off the bat by the way the skin around his mouth is pinched and white, the way that his hands are shaking. "What the ever-loving" "You're an asshole! So fucking disrespectful I can't even look at you right now!" Jensen's brain is still sleep-fuzzy and slow. He probably looks like an idiot, sitting up in bed, gaping like a fish with his glasses balanced crookedly on his nose. "You want to explain what you're talking about?" he says slowly. "Sack up, Jensen! Gen is completely fucking mortified, and you're a dick." Jensen blinks. "Because I wrote on the damn whiteboard? Jesus. I was kidding." "Well! Congratulations. I hope you find yourself goddamn hilarious, because it wasn't fucking funny." "Jesus, how far up Genevieve's ass are you? Is this what it sounds like in there?" Jared blanches. "That was the single most retarded thing that has ever been said in the history of the English language. No, beyond that. Cave men grunted wittier insults. I've had more insightful farts." "It was a fucking joke, you douchebag. And if Gen is so mortified, maybe she should've thought about that before deciding that they needed to hear her begging you to give it to her harder in fucking China."

"No wonder you and Danneel didn't work out, if you think a girl would ever look at something like that and not be off-the-wall embarrassed-" "Wow, Jared, look at you! You've been fucking the same girl for a couple of months and suddenly you're an expert on the female psyche. Excellent. Because none of your previous relationships have crashed-and-fucking-burned because of your egotistical crap" "I'm not fucking her. She's my girlfriend, you sack of shit, and who the hell are you to make her feel uncomfortable in my house?" "Oh, so now it's your house. Funny, when the bills come around every month it's our house, but when" "You wanted to pay half the bills!" "You moved me in here without my consent!" Jared's face goes even stonier. "Right," he says quietly, and somehow, the whisper sounds more violent than the hollering. "And you put up such a fight. If you're so miserable here, then get the fuck out. Now excuse me, I'm going to go back to the kitchen to put away your fucking cereal box like I do ten times every day." The venom in the words makes it sound like Jared is cursing Jensen's entire family, not talking about a box of Lucky Charms. Jensen throws off his covers and stands up, gets himself between Jared and the door and draws up to his fullest height. "Oh, right. A cereal box on the counter is the most offensive shit you've ever heard of, and yet you'll leave your empties sitting on the coffee table for a week and your jacket hasn't been hung on an actual hook since you moved into the house." The floodgates are open. Jared steps up as close to Jensen as he can get with his massive Neanderthal chest puffed out in front of him. "You delete shit from my TiVo!" "Oh, Jesus Christ, Jared, try a fucking breath mint," Jensen spits, grimacing and stepping back. "Have you brushed your teeth this century?" "Oh, that's rich, hygiene lessons from the guy who happily went a week without showering over Thanksgiving." "It was three days, and I don't have a giant gaping vagina to wash like you apparently do, ten times a day. You never leave any fucking hot water for me. You never leave hot water for anyone else in Canada." "Get up earlier!" "I'm the one always waiting for you! Everyone is always waiting for you!" "Right. We've never been late because you can't find your keys, oh, except for every other day." "They'd be easier to find if your dogs didn't think they were a chew-toy and drag them all over the house" "Oh, god, you're right! It's Harley's fault! Did he eat your homework, too, Jensen?"

Jensen's blood is rushing loud in his ears. He's almost dizzy with anger; his throat is thick with nausea. He tries to catch his breath, but it doesn't really work out so well for him. "You know what, Jared?" he mutters, finally, his voice hoarse. He pivots and snatches his car keys up from where he dropped them on his bedside table yesterday. "I know where my keys are now. I'm done here." "Good," Jared says. "Tuck your dick into your pussy and walk out on a fight. Jensen Ackles! Being passive aggressive! Color me shocked." "It's taking everything in me not to fucking tackle you to the ground and break your face right now, Padalecki. Just shut up." He hears Jared's incredulous scoff as he grabs his jeans and his wallet and shoves out of the room. He makes it as far as the front porch before he looks out into the driveway and his anger boils over. He wouldn't be surprised if there were steam coming from his ears right nowhis whole brain feels like it's on fire. He slams back into the house, stomping into the kitchen where Jared is throwing out his cereal box. He catches Jared off guard and shoves him up against the fridge. There's a moment where all Jared's face betrays is stunned sadness, but his eyes quickly narrow and he actually snarls, flashing his teeth. Jensen gets an arm across Jared's neck. "You're parking me in," he growls. "Again. Jared's chest heaves a few times, that red flush creeping back up his neck. They're too close together, shoved up against the fridge, blank now that Jared ripped the whiteboard down. Jensen feels like his entire body is burning up. His palms are clammy with sweat. Nobody moves. It's like Jared thinks they're in some kind of furious staring contest, and there's a moment where Jensen is pretty sure that Jared is about to either take a swing and knock him out, or spontaneously combust with the sheer force of his roid-rage. After a beat, Jared just shoves Jensen back a few stepsnot violent, but frighteningly controlled opens the junk drawer, and grabs his spare keys. "Take my car," he says quietly. "I don't care. Just leave." If Jensen's life were a movie, he'd storm out of the house and drive to the airport and go home. Maybe he'd apologize to Danneel for being the worst kind of asshole, and maybe he'd snap out of the Jared-induced fog he's been walking around in. But his life is not a movie. He has to be on set with Jared in an hour. It's all very anticlimactic. They've had two fights before this one. Once, a few years ago, Shannon took a few days off, and Jensen may have been less than polite to the replacement makeup artist. It had been a long day, and Jensen didn't want to listen to nine kinds of bitchy gossip, and he might have snapped a little. Jared had power-tripped about it, yelling at Jensen for being rude right in front of everyone. It had taken a half an hour for Jared to come crashing into Jensen's trailer apologizing, and Jensen had all but cried with relief, stumbling over his own apology. The other time was a little more serious, because it involved Mackenzie and Jensen's crazy-bigbrother protective streak. It was before Jensen really knew Jared. Jensen hadn't known then that Jared would flirt with a brick wall if it was in front of him, and it didn't actually mean that Jared had any interest in getting into the brick wall's pants. Jensen had barely spoken to Jared for a week, and

Jared hadn't even known what he did wrong. This one, though, is the worst. Jensen feels nauseated, driving to set (in his own car, thank you very much) replaying the fight in his head. Throwing Sandy in Jared's face was a low blow, even if Jared did bring up Danneel first. Jensen had watched Jared fall apart over Sandy, sat next to him while he cried. He was pretty sure that even though Jared was over Sandy now, he wasn't over his own failures there. He runs into Jared in the makeup trailer. He's leaving just as Jensen is walking in. Jared's face is blotchy, eyes puffy, mouth red and chapped. He looks like he's been crying since Jensen left, and Jensen's gut twists violently at the sight. He grabs Jared's arm. "Jay," he says. "Are you alright? I'm sorry, man, I never should've" Jared wrenches out of Jensen's grip. "You're kidding, right?" His voice is cold. "It's makeup, Jensen. I'm supposed to be in demon blood withdrawal. Get over yourself." Jensen sways on his feet a little as Jared leaves. He's fucking exhausted. "You okay?" Jeannie asks, as he drops gracelessly into his chair. Misha is sitting in the other chair, with his eyebrows arched up so high they practically disappear into his hairline. Jensen closes his eyes. "No." He leans back for his head massage. "But thank you for asking." He was supposed to be at the panic room setup ten minutes ago, but he stops at Genevieve's trailer on his way. When he knocks on the door, Liv and Indy start barking like crazy. His ankles twinge in fear at the sound. "Come in!" she calls. He hesitates. "Um, it's me. Jensen." "Come in," she says again. He opens the door and squeezes through, careful not to let the dogs out. Indy stares angrily at his ankles, but doesn't make his move. Jensen knows he'll attack right when Gen turns away. Her trailer smells like grapefruit shampoo. She's still in her grey NYU sweats, her hair piled sloppily on top of her head. She's the most unassuming, unintimidating person on the planet, but Jensen's hands are shaking. "So," she says, smirking a bit. She's cross-legged on the couch with a red pen in her hand and her script open on her lap. "So," he says. "I guess I kind of suck." She smiles with only half of her mouth and nods solemnly. "That's putting it nicely," she says. "That was pretty embarrassing, Jensen, to see that on the fridge this morning. You could've talked to me. I would've... quieted down, or whatever." "I should've talked to you." He swallows; his mouth is dry and gross-tasting. "I was being petty."

She tilts her head. "You gonna get to the apology?" she coaxes quietly. "I'm sorry," he says. "II should've said that first. I'm sorry." "Forgiven!" she says, waving a hand. "I don't know if Jared's going to be so easy, though. He was pretty mad." "He gets like that," he says. "He was always really protective ofgirlfriends." "You can say her name," Genevieve says. "I met her in LA over Christmas. She's nice." Jensen clears his throat. "Yeah." "Is she why you don't like me? I know you guys were close." "What? Jesus, Genevieve, I like you plenty! You're... you're great." "I like to think so," she says. "He'll get over it, Jensen. Probably pretty soon. He pretty much thinks you walk on water." She says it casually, like it's not a big thing to say, but it sort of is. "Okay," Jensen says quietly. "Thanks. I'll see you later." She bites her lower lip. "Hey," she says, "are you alright? You look kind of... sweaty." "I'm fine," he says. He's not really fine. Singer points out their blocks, the little masking-tape Xes on the floor, and Jensen can barely get his eyes to focus. Jim jostles Jensen's shoulder and says, "Hey, kid, you look like ass." Across the room, Jared is getting into his harness. He glances up at Jensen and their eyes meet for a half-second before Jared looks back down, poking at the wires to test their strength like he always does. "I'm a little tired," Jensen lies. He's fucking exhausted. Genevieve is a nice girl, and he's mostly sorry he wrote about her on the fridge, but that doesn't mean he's gotten anywhere near REM sleep for the last three nights. They rehearse twice, going through the motionsthe wires flip Jared around the wall, and then Jim and Jensen ease him down to the floor and wrestle him flat. The rehearsal is easyJared only struggles cursorily. He doesn't meet Jensen's eyes. The first time they actually roll camera, it's hard on Jensen. Jared isn't Jared, and he's not Sam either. He's a mess of jerking limbs and rolling eyes and Jensen actually has to work to get him down off the wall. They flatten him down to the ground, Jensen's knee on his thigh, hands wrapped around his bicep. Jim says his lines and Jensen responds, and when Singer calls cut, Jared spits out the leather in his mouth and says, "Get off me." It's the first time he's looked Jensen in the eye in hours.

Jensen falls back and Jared wrenches away, getting tangled in the wires attached to his hips. Jensen starts to stand and falls back down. "Jensen?" Singer asks. "You with us?" Jensen nods blearily. "Might be getting a cold or something," he says. "I'm good." The first AD pulls her walkie-talkie off her belt. "Can we get wardrobe down here? Jensen needs a replacement shirt. Maybe a couple." Jensen looks down at himself. He's sweating through the layers he's wearing. He lasts less than an hour. They pull Jared down from the wall over and over again. Logically, Jensen knows that this isn't a real fightJim is here too, and once in a while Singer will step in and throw direction at them. Jensen's usually not one to take his work to heart this much. He knows the difference between Jared and Sam. He knows every difference. But he's not feeling well and he hasn't slept and he woke up to a dry-erase board being chucked at his head this morning, so he's a little off his game. On the fourth take, he lets go of the belt before he's supposed to and rolls off of Jared just in time to puke on the cement floor. "Shit," Jim murmurs as he and Jared scurry out of the line of fire. Jensen throws up again, feeling his gut wrench and wring. There's sweat stinging his eyes and his entire body is shivering like a leaf. There's a paramedic on handinsurance requires it, even though Jared's stunts haven't got him more than a couple feet up off the floorbut when she approaches Jensen he waves her off. "I'm good," he says, spitting. "Shit. Is somebody gonna have to clean this up? I feel bad, I" "How many more takes?" Jared asks. Singer hesitates, a little stunned. "One more," he says. "I can get it in one more take. Can we get somebody in here to clean up this mess?" "I'm fine," Jensen says again, but he overbalances when he tries to stand and Jim has to grab him by the elbow to keep him from literally falling into a puddle of his own vomit. He's got more to film today, one of Sam's hallucinations, but he doesn't argue when Singer says that they can do Jared's coverage today and move Jensen's to tomorrow afternoon. Jensen supposes that if life was going to catch up to him and kick his ass, it's a good thing it was an episode like thisno location shoots, no guest director, plenty of room for Jared to cover for him. They do it one more time. Jensen is dizzy and hot and cold and by the end of it, his head feels heavy, as though it's barely balancing on his neck and might roll away like a bowling ball any second. By the time they finish the take and Clif pulls the SUV up as close to the set as he can get it, Jensen is about to break down and cry with relief. "Jensen," Jared says behind him, as he's climbing into the car.

He turns. Jared is standing there with his hand out, palm up. "What" "Your car keys," he says. "You drove yourself to set, remember? I'll bring it home for you." "Oh," Jensen says. His throat is hoarse. "Left them in my trailer, in my jeans. You don't have to" "Just get some rest," Jared says. Jensen lays down in the back of the van, staring at the ceiling for the entire ride and trying desperately not to barf up his intestines. He makes it the whole way home. "You want me to come in?" Clif asks when they pull into the driveway. Jensen shakes his head, even though it makes his brains feel like scrambled eggs. "I'm good," he insists. "I'm a big kid now. I can tuck myself in, even read myself a bedtime story. I promise to brush my teeth and everything." The dogs circle him warily when he gets through the door, like they know he might spew any second. He sinks down onto the bench in the mudroom and tries to get his fingers to work enough to unlace his stupid Dean Winchester boots, but he's pretty sure his brain is broken. He only closes his eyes for a moment.

Jensen wakes up hours later in his bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. He's disoriented as he struggles up to his elbows and tries to get his bearings. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust. It's still early in the eveningthere's cool blue light cutting under the curtains. It's warm in his room, and he's sweaty under his t-shirt, but he feels a little more clear-headed and a little less feverish than he did last time he was conscious. He blinks. His car keys and his cell phone are on his nightstand. The button-down shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt is on the floor, and his boots are off. Jared is across the room, half-hidden by the shadows, fast asleep on the red beanbag chair. The next time Jensen wakes up, it's because Jared is knocking lightly on his door. Jensen is pretty sure it's the first time Jared's ever done that. "Jensen? You asleep?" It's dark out, now. Jensen tugs the covers up over his head. "No, I'm dead. Leave the flowers and go make my mother a sympathy casserole." "I think you have the flu," Jared says. He's swaying in the door, still mostly standing in the hallway. "You get your Ph. D. while I slept?" "Yes. I did. I mean, my time may have been better spent getting an M.D., because, you know, then I might actually know something about your illness, but I'll let that slide because you're sick and I'm a good person."

Jensen sits up. He's not sweaty anymore. He's also not wearing his t-shirt. "Did you strip me down?" "No, you woke up and took that off like an hour ago. Your fever broke and you were looking pretty gross." Jensen rubs at his face. "Did you carry me to bed?" "Kind of," Jared admits. "I dragged you more than carried you. And you moved your feet on your own occasionally." He comes all the way into the room, then, closing the door behind him despite Harley and Sadie's whines outside. "You just passed out in the hallway, dude. You must've been there for ages before I got home." Jensen swallows around the cottony feeling in his mouth. "Thanks," he says, the word croaking out of his throat miserably. "Thank you for doing that." "Jensen," Jared says. "Of course." "I think I caught the plague," Jensen sighs. "I'm sorry," Jared says. He's got a face like a lonely puppy sometimes. Jensen looks away. "Not your fault, unless you've been conducting some kind of biological warfare I'm not aware of." "I shouldn't have" "You didn't get me sick by throwing a whiteboard at my head. You just pissed me off." "You've been sick all week," Jared says. "What?" "Yeah, I thought about it. You've been sweaty and sleepy all the time. Also, news at eleven, you've been acting like a giant asshole for days." Jensen narrows his eyes. "You slept on the smelly beanbag," he says accusatorily. He's kind of surprised when Jared flushes hot red and looks down at the ground. "I kind of thought you were going to die," he says. "I thought it would suck pretty bad if the last thing I ever said to you was, you know. Leave." "So you thought you would cure me of my death plague by... falling asleep in close proximity?" "Hey," Jared laughs. "I was just waiting for your fever to break. I spent the day having fake demonic seizures, man, I was fuckin' tired." "You slept on the smelly beanbag," Jensen says again, happily this time. Jared rolls his eyes and flops down at the end of Jensen's bed, lying horizontally across it. "At least you finally admit it's smelly." Jensen flexes his feet under the covers, lifting Jared's head and then dropping it again. "I'm tired," Jared sighs. He adjusts his body so that his neck is draped over

Jensen's ankle and closes his eyes. Jensen hums in agreement and grabs his cell phone from the bedside table. He's got two missed calls from his agent. He was supposed to tell her by today if he was interested in playing a small role in some movie Jennifer Aniston is attached to for the summer; four and a half weeks of filming on Long Island in May and June. He puts the phone aside and looks down at Jared. "I'm sorry for being a dick this morning," he says. "And this whole week, or whatever." Jared shakes his head. "You couldn't help it; your brain was like, cooking in your head. I'm sorry." "I told Genevieve I didn't meanI shouldn't have written on the board." Jensen swallows. He plucks anxiously at the comforter that Jared picked out for him. "I was jealous." "What, that I was getting laid and you weren't?" Jensen wants to say, yep, been a while, but what comes out of his mouth is, "No. Not because of that." He feels Jared's body tense up on the bed. "Oh." "Yeah. Oh." Jared exhales, a long shaky breath that Jensen can hear shuddering out of his chest. "You covered up my pictures," he says after a minute, gesturing toward the map on the ceiling. "Yeah," Jensen laughs. "They were always looking at me when I was in my bed. Creepy beady eyes, watching me masturbate and pick my nose and shit." "You shit in your bed?" Jared gasps incredulously. "Oh, Jesus." Jensen pulls the covers over his head again. "You know what I love about you, Jared?" He takes the bait easily, voice muffled outside Jensen's blanket-cocoon. "No, what?" "You always make me feel so intelligent. Especially when you talk." The next few days pass in a blur of working and resting. Jensen says, "The show must go on, dude." Jared rolls his eyes. "Wow, Jensen. Did you make that up yourself? It's kinda catchy." "Fucker." "Did you drink enough water today? You're not going to get better if you don't drink enough water." "If I have another drop I'm going to turn into a fish," Jensen says. Jared narrows his eyes and says, "I'm going to get you another bottle just in case," and that's pretty much how it goes for the whole first part of the week. Jensen sleeps at every opportunityin the makeup chair, in the motel room beds on set, slumped on Jared's shoulder in the car on the way to the lot and back home. He uses every bit of expendable energy on making sure it doesn't look like

Dean Winchester came down with the flu, and he lets Jared worry about everything else. He drinks water when Jared gives it to him, and he chokes down a few bites of food when Jared puts it in front of him. On the fourth day, he wakes up early. His head isn't swimming, his limbs don't feel heavy, and he's fucking starving. Of course, since Jared has been the brains of the operation for the better part of a week, there's nothing in the kitchen but Red Bull, eggs, fourteen tons of protein powder, and half an extra-large pizza from last night. Jensen sighs and takes the eggs out of the refrigerator. He's happily pushing them around in a pan a few minutes later when Jared says, "Oh my god, it's alive," from the doorway, startling him. Jensen jumps. "Jesus. You're like a ninja." "Little cat feet," Jared says, pointing at his huge sneakers. He's in his running shorts and the old high-school debate team t-shirt that he won't let die, even though it stretches obscenely across his chest and Jensen swears he can actually hear the sleeves begging for mercy. "Giant hobbit feet." "You feeling better?" Jared hoists himself up on the counter next to the stove and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "You look better." "Than who? Than you? I always look better than you." "You looked like shit all week. You look slightly less shitty today. And you're eating!" Jared peers into the skillet. "Wait, that looks good. What is that?" Jensen shrugs. "It's a scramble. Eggs, mozzarella, ham, onions." "Did you go to the market or something? How - it's like five in the morning." "Nope. I just brutally murdered your pizza and harvested all of its viable organs." Jared laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard, his head tipped back, clapping his hands. Jensen puts the fork down against the edge of the frying pan and turns off the heat. His hands are shaking a little, all of a sudden, but he rests them on Jared's bare knees anyway. Jared falls quiet immediately, and Jensen can feel his kneecaps shifting under his skin. "Jensen," Jared warns, and then Jensen steps into the space between Jared's legs, close enough to gently nudge Jared's cheek with his nose. He waits, breathing against Jared's face, until he sees Jared's eyes flutter shut, and then he closes his own eyes and presses their mouths together. Jared is easy against him. It doesn't feel like a first kiss; it feels like the way people kiss when they've loved each other for yearshello, good morning, you're exactly where I want to be. Jared kisses Jensen back right away, instinctively letting his lips give, opening his mouth just enough for Jensen to feel the slick inside. The taste of Jared's toothpaste is cool against Jensen's lips, and when Jared's hands come up to Jensen's neck, his thumbs bracketing Jensen's jaw, Jensen shivers.

Jared pulls back, shoulders hitting the cabinets, and a long breath shudders out of him. Jensen starts to smile at him, thinking God, that was simple, but Jared isn't smiling. There are lines curving into his forehead; his nostrils are flared. "This is," Jared whispers. "Jensen, I've thought about... fuck." His voice is hardly more than an exhale. He twists his hands up in Jensen's t-shirt, gathering the fabric where the shoulder seams meet, and he pulls Jensen back in. Jensen stumbles into the fierce, quick kiss, their lips caught between their teeth, and he doesn't even have time to kiss back before Jared's pushing him away again, gently. It takes Jared a few seconds to realize that his fingers are still tangled in Jensen's t-shirt. He lets go and slides off the counter. "Jared" "I'm gonna make us late to work if I don't go now," he says, voice even and level. He whistles for Harley and Sadie. "Back in half an hour," and then he's clipping leashes to collars and murmuring encouragement to the dogs as he's heading out the door. They're quiet on the drive to work. Jared makes it pretty clear that he wants to pretend that Jensen didn't just kiss him in their kitchen. Jensen is realizing pretty quickly, though, that neither of them is the best actor in the world. Jared is fidgety and when he does speak, it's a little too fast. Jensen's got his own tells, toohe knows he looks preoccupied, and every time his eyes meet Jared's he can't maintain eye contact for more than half a second. It's awkward and miserable, and Jensen wishes like hell that he'd never done it at all. He'd been ninety-nine percent sure that Jared wanted to. He keeps thinking about waking up and seeing Jared asleep on the beanbag, and about Jared's hand on his leg in the bathroom at the bar. When Jensen gets to his trailer, the script for the finale is sitting on the little table. He thumbs it open. Every page is watermarked with his name. He flips through idly, not really reading it, just skimming enough to see that Sam and Dean are split up for almost the entire episode. He's not surprised. There's a light knock on the door. "Yeah, Jess," Jensen calls. "Be there in a sec." The door pushes open. "Hey," Jared says, coming in. "It's um. Me. Obviously." Jensen laughs, shakes his head, tries to look at Jared without freaking out. "Yo." "Big day today," Jared says. They're shooting their fight scene. They've been looking forward to this all season, and last week when they got the script Jared had practically cackled with glee. "I get to kick your ass, son!" he'd crowed. Now he just looks hesitant and uncomfortable. "Yup."

Jared takes hold of Jensen's arm. "Look, Jensen" "Hey, it's okay," Jensen says. "Whatever, I shouldn't have" "It's just not a good idea," Jared says. "It's not that I don't, um." He pauses, lets go of Jensen's arm, and reaches up to rub the back of his own neck, searching for words. "You're my best friend," he says finally. Jensen swallows, hesitating, and finally grins and punches Jared in the arm. "Come on, dumbass," he says. "We gotta get to makeup." Jensen already knows that it's going to be an incredibly taxing day. Fight scenes are never easy to shoot, but the emotional impact of this fight is important to Singer. "I'm not going to leave a single stone unturned here," he tells Jensen, Jared, and Jensen's stunt double, Todd. "We're going to get every angle. It's gonna be a long-ass day, a lot of re-dressing the set, and we're going to need you all to be one hundred-percent committed for every minute." He turns to Jensen. "You feeling okay?" "Yup." Jensen nods. "Peachy." Singer points a finger at him. "Good. Because there's no barfing on my set today," he says. "I'm serious. We've got enough to deal with without having to clean up your sick. You puke today, you swallow it." Jared makes an exaggerated gagging noise and Singer turns on him. "And no goofing off, Padalecki." "What? Me!?" Jared screeches incredulously. "I am deeply offended by your outrageous implications!" "Right," Singer huffs. He throws up his hands and walks away. Jared sighs and reaches into his pockets to pull out a whoopee cushion, three fake tarantulas, and a small packet of wasabi sauce. "The hell?" Todd laughs. Jensen shakes his head and watches Jared go put them aside on the prop table. "Don't ask," he mumbles. "Whatever it is, we're all probably better off not knowing." Singer wasn't exaggerating. It's one of the most draining days Jensen has had on set in a very long time. He's grateful, though, that despite whatever happened this morning, he and Jared are perfectly in sync. They're in this together. Every time Singer calls cut, Jensen says, "You're nailing it, Jay," and he means it. And each time Jensen goes down, falling over and over to the floor as they film Sam's hits from every angle, it's Jared who kneels to help him back up again. They're both quiet, intense. It's uncomfortable, to see the anger shimmer off of Jaredthe tense, furious curl of his lower lip, the cold dismissal in his eyes. He's ugly and frightening. His hands on

Jensen's neck are sweaty. They shake convulsively, Jared's thumb tight on Jensen's pulse. Jensen is relieved every time Singer lets them take five, watching Jared shake Sam off and say, "Does anybody have any gum? I think my breath smells like fart," or "How awesome do you guys think that looked? Like on a scale of four-point-two to nineteen and two-thirds?" The final shot involves Dean choking out one last threat, an attempt to make Sam stay, and Sam slamming out of the hotel room without hesitation. Writhing in pain on the floor doesn't take much acting skill on Jensen's part. Even though Todd took most of the day's more brutal hits, Jensen is bruised from head to toe. They've been shooting for twelve hours when Singer says, "And that's a wrap." Jensen groans and sits up. Jared bursts back into the room, grinning wildly, and hauls Jensen to his feet. Jensen is about to step back when Jared tugs him in for a hug. Jared smells like sweat and the makeup melting on his neck. "Fucking magnificent," Jared laughs, his chin a sharp point in Jensen's shoulder. "That was a fucking great day." Jensen laughs bitterly, thumping Jared's back. "Easy for you to say," he says, "when you didn't spend a million hours getting dropped on the floor." Jared is still holding on, but he pulls back a little, enough to look Jensen in the face when he says, "That is because I am stronger and bigger and cooler than you." Jensen smiles back at him, and for a moment everything is good, and then Jared's lip trembles and his grin fades. They're standing too close together, and they're in a room full of people who are still applauding their performances. They let go of each other at the same moment. Jensen gets up early the next day to go run with Jared. "Seriously?" Jared says when he sees Jensen in his sneakers. "Man, I've been trying to get you to come with me all year. I'm telling you, it clears your head. This'll be the best day you've had in forever." "Stop talking and start running, douche," Jensen grumbles. It's pleasant outside. Jared runs a few paces ahead of Jensen, but he keeps looking back over his shoulder. Jensen thinks he's gonna trip and eat it if he keeps doing that, but he doesn't say so partly because it would be funny as hell, and partly because he likes the way Jared looks, the line of his back when he twists to grin back at Jensen. They're two miles in when Jared pauses long enough to pull his shirt up over his head. He twists it into a rope and ties it around his forearm. "Jay," Jensen chokes out, not bothering to drag his eyes away from where the muscle cuts across Jared's hips. Jared smiles, watching Jensen's face. "You think?" he asks. Jensen reaches out and brushes Jared's belly with the backs of his knucklesnot enough to catch

the attention of anyone on the street, but just enough to make Jared's breath hitch. "Yeah." The loop they run is six miles long. Jensen's calves burn by the end of it, and his shirt is drenched, but there's never a moment when he wants to slow down or take a breather. Their feet pound against the pavement, Jared's hair whipping out behind him. Jensen's lungs feel powerful as he sucks in the cool morning air. He feels young and strong, watching Jared. When they get close to the end of their driveway, Jared slows to a stop. "No," Jensen says, grabbing his elbow and tugging. "Come on." He drags Jared up the hill, around the corner of the garage. "Jeez! We don't have to run the whole way to the door," Jared says. Jensen laughs. "I know," he says, finally slowing down. He doesn't let go of Jared's arm, though; he just steers them, manhandling Jared until he's flat up against the garage door. They're both sweaty, Jared's hair plastered across his forehead. He's grinning down at Jensen, and he doesn't look scared at all. Jensen doesn't care anymore, doesn't think about their friendship or Jared's girlfriend or what their mothers would think if they knew. He just presses his body flush against Jared's and bends his head to lick at the sweat gathering at Jared's clavicle. "Jensen, god, I" Jared chokes, grabbing Jensen's head with both his hands and dragging him into a messy kiss. He's animalistic, feverish with his teeth scraping at Jensen's lower lip and his tongue chasing the sting. Jensen gets one arm up over Jared's shoulders. "Can I," he says, the fingers of his other hand skipping along the waistband of Jared's shorts. "Please," Jared growls against the side of Jensen's neck. "Oh, fuck." Jensen pulls Jared's cock out as Jared shoves a hand down the back of Jensen's briefs. Jared is hard and thick and hot in Jensen's grip. "You like it like that?" Jensen murmurs, letting his lower lip catch at Jared's earlobe. Jared sucks down a ragged breath. "Harder," he says. He grabs Jensen's ass, then, enough to pull Jensen up snug against him. His fingers are long, curving down between Jensen's legs, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin behind his balls. Jensen's hands shake a little as he jerks Jared off. The whole moment is mind-blowing, the smell of them and the choked-off gasps Jared makes, Jared's hands all over him and his morning stubble scraping against Jensen's cheek. Jensen is overwhelmed by their masculinity, turned on by it. It reminds him of that feeling of hitting open highway, turning off cruise control and bearing down hard on the gas. They make each other come that way, pressed hip-to-hip against the garage door with their tongues curled together, a little past six in the morning on a Tuesday in the middle of March. Jensen's whole life is accelerating. He feels reckless and split open. -

Usually the last two weeks of shooting for the season feel incredibly claustrophobic. During the first three season finales they were in almost every scene together, practically living in each other's pockets. By the time they wrapped those seasons Jensen waswell, not quite sick of Jared, exactly, but certainly not unhappy at the thought of getting a little time to himself. This time, it's different. They shoot the final pages first, to free up the convent set for the flashbacks, and after that Jared and Jensen work opposing schedules. Jensen's got it easy this time around. He shoots most of his scenes inside, during normal work hours, and his biggest worry is making sure that Dean looks convincingly... worried. It's not difficult. "It's probably better that we're not going to see much of each other for the next ten days," Jared says on the first morning of their final episode, right as Jensen's getting ready to head to the car. Jensen stiffens. "What?" "Yeah," Jared says. He's sitting on the counter again, swinging his feet, right where he was the morning Jensen first kissed him. Not that it matters where he sits or stands. Jensen thinks about kissing him all the time, now. "I mean, Sam and Dean are separated, wondering about what the other is doing. So it's good that you and I are split up, too. It'll make it all the more believable." Jensen shrugs his backpack on over one shoulder. "You going method on me?" "Well, duh," Jared laughs. "You haven't noticed I've been drinking blood lately? Human blood is pretty hard to come by, but I picked up a couple gallons of lamb's blood from the butcher. I figure it's as close as anything" "I'm leaving now," Jensen interrupts. "The longer I let you talk the creepier this story is going to get." "Yum!" Jared calls down the hall after him. "Delicious animal plasma!" Jensen's rhythm is off. He misses running lines with Jared in the van in the mornings, and he misses having someone to roll his eyes with when Kripke makes that weird high-pitched squeaking noise he sometimes makes when he's excited. He hasn't seen Jared at all for almost three whole days. Not even a quick wave hello across the set, or crossed paths in the morning. Normally, that wouldn't be such a big deal, but Jensen feels like they're in limbo. Every time he thinks about Jaredwhich is pretty much constantlyhe gets this crazy, sped-up feeling in his chest, like he's got a hummingbird caught in his ribcage. "Cut!" Kripke calls. Three different assistants rush in with sponges to scrub the thick fake blood off the wall and ready it for another take. Jensen pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, and Misha huffs out a laugh. Jensen raises an eyebrow. "What?" he barks, voice still gruff as Dean's.

"Anybody ever tell you that you've got serious codependency issues?" Misha chuckles. "Don't psychoanalyze me, bitch," Jensen says. He's got two texts from Jared: what are you doing this summer? u never told me and hope all's well on set. Jensen bites his lower lip. don't shit in my toilet while i'm here, he sends. Jared responds right away. you miss me so much. There isn't anybody in the world that knows Jared better than Jensen does. He's pretty sure about that. He spends his downtime on set examining the variablesthe way that Jared is with Genevieve and the way that he was with Sandy, the way Jared looks at him sometimes and that night on the men's room floor. He thinks about Jared's mouth a lot, too, and about his hands. He can't help it. The house is empty when Jensen gets home that evening. Jared and Genevieve shot their final scene together this afternoon, on location over an hour out of the city. Still, Jared would've been back by now, so he's most likely at dinner or staying at Genevieve's for the night. Jensen calls his mom, measuring out food for Harley and Sadie as he listens to her tell him all about the fundraiser she went to for the homeless shelter downtown. "And then Kate Grey asked me for my brownie recipe," she says. "Again! But I won't give it to anyone who isn't directly related, and she knows that. That's the entire point of a family recipe! So I told her that if she wanted brownies, I would be happy to make her some. I just didn't think she'd take me up on it right away." "You should just give her the recipe, mom," Jensen says. "It's not like Josh and I are ever gonna be the brownie-making types, and Mackenzie can't put a slice of cheese on a piece of bread without setting her hair on fire." "That's not true, Jensen! I remember you and Josh making brownies once when you were a senior in high school." Jensen snorts and rolls his eyes. It was two weeks after they got Cowhe'd eaten half the tray while they weren't looking, and gotten so stoned they thought they'd killed him for sure. "Anyway," his mom says. "How are you? Have you figured out your plans for this summer?" "Um," Jensen says. "Actuallynot for sure. I'm considering a couple of scripts last minute. There's a gangster movie that Noah Wyle just dropped out of... they'd have to age the character down a little, but they're sending me the script." "Mmhmm." "And if I'm willing to read, there are a few different rom-com projects that Lainie thinks might be a nice change. I just... I'm not sure. Scott and Gayle say since next year might be my last one up here, what I do this summer could define my entire career. This will be the first project that comes out

after Supernatural, so it's pretty pivotal, I guess." "Mmhmm." "I just wish I could figure out what direction I want to go in now. I never set out to be a movie star, just an actor, you know?" "Mmhmm." He sighs. "Mom? You even listening?" "Mmhmm." "Mom, I have to talk to you about something. My coke addiction might be getting a little out of control; I think I'm finally ready to admit I have a problem. Lindsay Lohan, my new girlfriend, says a little blow never hurt anyone, but I'm not sure I believe her, since I've had to have a hole in my nose repaired twice now." "Mmhmmwhat? Oh, Jensen, stop it. I'm listening. I'm just trying to see if we have enough sugar to make a batch of brownies for Katie and a batch for your father." Jensen rakes his fingers through his hair and laughs. "Dad doesn't need brownies," he says. "He's getting a gut." Harley and Sadie suddenly jump up from where they're lying by the TV and rush down the hall to the front door. Jensen stands up, seeing Jared's headlights sweeping in through the window. "I gotta go, Mom," he says. "Love you." He doesn't wait for her to reply before he snaps his cell phone shut and tosses it onto the armchair. He's heading toward the front door when it opens. Jared comes in swinging his keys around his finger. He nudges Sadie and Harley out of the way with his knee as he closes the door behind him. "Hey, guys," he sings, and then he looks up and his eyes catch on Jensen's. "Hey," he repeats, his voice dropping a register. His cheeks are a little flushed, his eyes shiny and dark like they get when he's had maybe one glass of wine too many. Jensen opens his mouth and then closes it. There was something he wanted to say, but he can't remember it for the life of him. "Jensen?" "I thought you were gonna sleep at Genevieve's," he says. "I was," Jared replies. "I changed my mind." He shrugs off his coat and drops it on the floor like he always does, and then he steps over it, right up in Jensen's space. It's shadowy in the hallway, and Jared's teeth are bright where he's biting his lip. "Are you in love with me?" Jensen asks. He wasn't really planning on just flat-out asking the question, and the train wreck look on Jared's face says that Jared wasn't expecting it, either. But it's been months of halted conversations, of Jared saying his name a little differently, and Jensen needs to know.

Jared says, "No," but the careful way his lips move around the word tell Jensen that he's not only lying, but he's acting. He's trying to keep his face a certain way, to look earnest and sincere and calm. "Tell me," Jensen says. "Come on, Jared. Are you in love with me?" Jared swallows and Jensen watches the rise and fall of his Adam's apple. "I'm trying not to be," is what he finally says, words tumbling out of his mouth on the exhale. He shoves past Jensen and goes upstairs. He's finished with the conversation. Jensen isn't really finished, though. He lasts through fifteen minutes of Jay Leno before he grabs two beers from the fridge and follows Jared. He doesn't knock, and when he opens the door, Jared is sitting on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His shirt is in a crumpled heap on the floor, but his jeans are still on. There were things Jensen wanted to say. Important things, like how he was thinking of moving out and how he was freaked out, too. But Jared looks up at him, his hair a ruffled mess around his face and the muscles in his abdomen tightening under his skin, and Jensen's mind goes blank. He sits down beside Jared on the bed, their thighs pressed together, and opens the beers with his ring before handing one over. They're quiet for a long time, just drinking. Jared has big French doors in his room, leading out to the balcony that wraps around the corner of the house. They stare out through the windows, watching the trees that line the back yard shiver in the breeze. It's a while before either of them speaks, but finally Jensen says, "I'm not doing anything this summer." Jared turns his head to look at him, but Jensen keeps his eyes forward. They're too close together; if they look into each other's faces the careful balance of the moment is going to snap. "But it's a pivotal summer," Jared says. "My agent thinks that what I do during this hiatus could set the course for my entire career." "Yeah," Jensen says. He uses his thumbnail to scratch at the label on his beer bottle. "Mine said that too." "So?" "So I was waiting for you to choose a project," Jensen says finally. "I didn't want to commit to something in LA and then find out you were gonna be in Prague all summer." Jared laughs, dropping his chin down to his chest. "I was waiting on you," he says. "Fucking hated not being around you last summer. I felt like I was missing an extremity. Not an essential one, you know, like maybe my left index finger or something, but still."

"So because we both couldn't man up and say something, we're both missing out on our big important summer and we're both gonna end up has-beens trying to get placed on VH1 reality shows." "Yup. The Surreal Life, 2019. It'll be you, me, the big Kardashian, James Van Der Beek and that Frankie dude from The Hills who can't get laid." A small smile tugs at the edges of Jensen's lips. "I think you should stop trying." Jared cocks his head. "Huh?" "You said you were trying not to feel that way about me," Jensen clarifies. He stands up and holds out a hand for Jared's empty bottle. "I think you should stop that now." Jared hands over the bottle and sits there blinking at Jensen as he leaves the room. Jared has been the first thing Jensen thinks about when he wakes up in the morning for a long time now. He's grown used to seeing Jared's face before he even opens his eyes. So it's not really that startling when he opens his eyes the next morning and Jared is staring back at him from the other side of the bed. Jensen blinks and drags a hand over his face. "What time is it?" he asks, his voice coming out gravelly and rough. "What are you doing?" Jared smiles and pulls Jensen's hand away from his face. "It's early," he says. "And... I'm making my move." Jensen stretches. "Your move is crawling into my bed at the crack of dawn to watch me sleep? You're a creepy mouth-breather." He starts to roll away. Jared wraps an arm around Jensen and pulls him back against his chest. He's solid and warm, and he smells damn good. Jensen thinks that he could fall asleep like this, with Jared pressed up behind him like a wall, and then Jared shifts his hips a little, rubbing against Jensen's ass, and Jensen isn't thinking about sleep at all. "That's not my move," Jared says. His voice rumbles against the knob of bone at the top of Jensen's spine; he presses his mouth there, licking out at Jensen's skin. "That was just the prelude to my move." "Jared," Jensen murmurs, watching Jared's big hand slide down his chest to skim over his belly. "I don't know if I can do this if" "I've been in love with you all year," Jared says. "Maybe longer. I've been so completely stupid over you that I can't see straight, man, I can't think about anything else." Jensen rolls over so that they're facing each other. He stares at Jared, well aware that he probably looks like an idiot, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I really, really love you. A lot." Jared grins. "That was my move," he says. "Checkmate."

Jensen shoots his final scene of the season with Jim on Saturday morning. Jared rides to set with him. "Gotta come say goodbye," he says as he clambers into the SUV behind Jensen. Jared's idea of 'saying goodbye' becomes apparent just a few moments after Kripke yells action. Jensen starts to walk across the floor to hit his mark, and suddenly he hits a slick patch on the ground. His feet fly out from under him, shooting up in the air, and his arms windmill out as he tries to catch his balance. It's no use, though. He lands on his ass, hard, and feels his face go bright red. "Fuck," he says, "sorry," but when he tries to stand back up, he eats it again. "The hell?" Jared cracks up behind the camera, wailing with laughter and clapping his hands. "Oh my god," he gasps. "Oh my god." Jensen narrows his eyes and looks down at his hands. "You are a fucking prick," he yells when he realizes what Jared did. There's a slick, wide line of butter on the ground, drawing a slippery path from Jensen's first mark to his second. Jared is laughing so hard he's crying, red-faced and howling uncontrollably. Jensen struggles to his feet and slides across the floor to Jared. "C'mere," he says, grabbing Jared's face with his greasy hands and rubbing the mess into his hair. Beaver and Kripke are practically doubled over with laughter, too. "I hate you all!" Jensen shouts, and then Jared grabs his shirt and hauls him in close, still cracking up. He buries his face in the side of Jensen's neck and then Jensen is laughing too, chuckling and saying, "I'm gonna get you back, you asshole. Next season! Fear me!" Kripke shoos away the eager production assistants and makes Jared get down on his knees and scrub the floor himself. Jensen snaps a few pictures with his phone and forwards them to everyone Jared knows. "The glamorous life," he says, and Jared says, "You fuckin' love me," and Jensen has to look away. When they finally do get around to shooting the scene, it's a cakewalk. Jim is pulling out all the stops, and Jensen wears Dean like a second skin at this point. Every once in a while, Jensen glances over to where Jared is parked behind the monitor. Jared is always staring right back at him. It's a good way to end the season. By the time Kripke calls cut and Jessica yells, "That's a wrap on season four for Jim and Jensen!" there's a warm, easy feeling in Jensen's chest. "Come here," Jared says. "You need to see this." Jensen walks over and plops himself down in his chair, next to Jared's, same as always. They watch the video of Jensen's fall on a loop, over and over. Jensen falls apart laughing again, harder than the first time, at the way his face contorted in surprise and the way he threw his arms out and tried desperately to balance. "Play it in slow motion," he says. "I bet if" He looks at Jared, and Jared is just staring back at him with a dopey smile on his face. "What?"

Jared says, "I'm fucking crazy about you," his voice barely above a whisper. Jensen feels himself blush and looks away from Jared's grin just in time to see Genevieve step out of her trailer. She hesitates for a second, glancing in their direction, before she starts walking away. She's got her backpack on, and her hair is in a thick, sloppy braid over her shoulder. Jensen glances back at Jared. He's gone quiet and serious, his mouth pressed into a tight line. When Genevieve reaches her rental car, Jared makes a little noise in the back of his throat and says, "I'll be right back." He jogs after her. For a moment, Jensen thinks it's going to be like the scene at the end of every movie ever, the hero realizing just in time that he's made a terrible mistake, running back to tell the girl that he loves her and he hopes she'll forgive him. But Jared just gathers Genevieve up in a tight hug. He sets his chin on the top of her head and squeezes her, lets her dig her fingers into his hoodie and hold on. Jensen watches, pretty unabashedly. When Gen climbs into the car Jared gives her a quick salute and then starts walking toward Jensen. He doesn't look back over his shoulder once. "You good?" Jensen asks. "We ended things last night." "I gathered as much," Jensen says. "You should've told me." Jared smiles. "Trust me, I was gonna. Listen, I've got to go to the AVR and finish up some dubbing." "I thought you were done?" "Singer called while you were shooting. He wants to re-work some of the dialogue from the last episode. He says Colin acted circles around me and if I don't figure out a way to sound more convincing I'm going to be put to shame by a twelve year old." "You're probably going to be put to shame anyway," Jensen says. "True story." Jared touches his thumb to one of the buttons on Jensen's shirt, flicking it with the tip of his finger. It's a small touch, the way Jared always touches peopleunconsciously, constantly. "So I'll meet you at the wrap party later?" Jensen shakes his head. "Come home," he says. "We'll go together." "Cool. Make sure there's a cold beer waiting and dinner on the table, woman! Wear somethin' fancy for me, now." "I am going to end you in a slow, painful way." "Yeah, don't I know it." He starts to turn away, but Jensen snatches a fistful of his hoodie before he can. "Hey," Jensen says,

quietly so no one can hear him. "I reallyyou know I'm crazy about you, too, right? I have been, for a really long time now. Like really long." Jared grins and punches Jensen's arm lightly. They're in public, with a million people they know milling around, so Jensen takes the gesture for what it is: a substitute for something else. "Yeah," Jared says. "I know that. Still pretty nice to hear it, though." Jensen kind of loves Vancouver in the springtime, though he probably wouldn't admit it if anyone asked him. It's warm and damp, with a breeze pleasant enough that Jensen leaves the back door open while he drops some steaks into a marinade and opens a beer. He goes out back to sit on the steps and watch the dogs. They tumble over each other, chasing tail around the yard. Harley barks at Jensen until he joins in, grabbing a tennis ball and wrestling right along with them in the grass. He's got a flight back to LA in two days. He hasn't started packing yet. Jared is going to San Antonio soon; he always goes straight there after they wrap, even if it's just for a night or two. Jared is one of the only people Jensen knows who has held onto most of his high school buddies. He talks about them pretty often, about how this one's having a baby and that one's going to med school in New York. Jared isn't really the type of guy who lets people slip through the cracks. It's reassuring. Jensen is buried beneath a pile of sweaty dogs when Jared shows up on the back porch, closing the screen door behind him. "Yo," he calls to Jensen, "I'm gonna put these steaks on the grill. Unless you'd prefer a little Purina Pro Plan, you filthy animal." Jensen struggles to his feet, feeling his age as he bends to sweep dirt off his knees. He climbs the stairs to the porch. "Bullshit," he says. "Me and the dogs smell better now than you do on your best day." Jared closes the grill and turns around, hooking a finger in Jensen's belt loop. "Hey," he says. Jensen feels his face heat up and he knows it's obvious as hell when Jared's grin gets brighter. Jensen's never been good at hiding his embarrassment, and Jared's never been good at hiding how much it delights him when Jensen gets shy. "Hi." "I'm allowed to do this now, right?" Jared asks, in this slow, secret base drum purr of a voice that Jensen's pretty sure he's never heard before. He gives Jensen a good pull against him, close enough that Jensen has to grab Jared's bicep just to keep his balance. "To like... come home and kiss you hello just 'cause I wanna?" Jensen laughs and starts to answer, but Jared's too quick. His mouth is hot over Jensen's, like Jared's body temperature is always just a couple degrees above normal, and he kisses like he isn't going anywhere. Jensen isn't sure he's ever going to get used to the feeling of Jared's lips on his. He can't imagine a time when that's not going to make him feel like his veins are thrumming and his head is full of air. "Fuck," Jensen gasps, when Jared's hips move just the tiniest bit, seeking friction against his own.

Jared steps back, though, squinting against the slice of sunlight across his face. "Eh," he says casually, "maybe later. I got steaks to cook." He thumps a fist against his own chest, asserting his masculinity as if Jensen didn't just feel all of it rubbing up against his thigh. "I want the big one," Jensen says, pointing to the biggest cut of meat. "I'm starving." "I'll arm wrestle you for it," Jared says. Jensen laughs and sits down on a patio chair, kicking his feet up onto the table. "Whatever. Brains over brawn." "It's really too bad that the scales on both those qualifiers are tipped so dramatically in my favor." Jared's hair is falling in his eyes and the late evening sun is striping over his cheeks. "Hey," Jensen says. "I think we should skip the wrap party." "You don't think they'll think we're dicks?" Jensen shrugs. "They stare at our ugly mugs all day. They're probably sick of us. Let's stay here." Jared is quietly focused on the meat in front of him. For a few minutes, the only sounds are sizzling grill, the crickets chirping, and Sadie and Harley growling happily at each other in the lawn. "Jensen," Jared says finally. "Thisyou and methis is a big deal." "Really? I hadn't noticed." "I'm serious." His voice confirms it; Jensen can tell he's not fucking around. "Last spring, when Sandy and I were making all our big plans, she wanted to get a place in San Antonio. We had this plan to start a dance studio, with free classes for underprivileged kids. You remember?" "Yeah," Jensen says. "I remember. It was a really nice idea." "Yeah, man, really nice. This time last year, I could picture the whole rest of my life, you know? And it looked pretty great from where I was standing." Jared takes a long sip from his beer. "Except I kept thinking about what the hell I was gonna do in San Antone if you were in LA. I didn'tI didn't freak out and screw up because I was scared of being with Sandy. I freaked out and screwed up because I was scared of not being with you." "Jared" Jared waves him quiet. "Just let mewhen we got back here, I figured that if you moved in, you'd probably drive me fucking crazy with all your annoying habits, and I'd snap out of it." "Dick." "And you did," Jared said. "You drive me up the goddamn wall, Jensen. You are the most irritating roommate I have ever had in my entire life. And I've lived with Chad." "Thanks, Jared, because living with you and your rank-ass feet and your compulsive need to use the blender every morning at four AM has been just peachy."

"I think I'll die of a heart attack the day you finally put your own damn cereal box away in the cupboard." "You fill up the TiVo with Paula Deen and UFC." "You give my dogs people food!" "You sit on the couch when you're literally dripping with sweat." Jared laughs, loud and bright, and flips the steaks onto two plates. They've got one salad bowl between them, and Jensen takes the top off a jar of honey dijon dressing from the farmer's market in town. He likes it better than ranch, and Jared prefers it to bleu cheese. It's better than a compromise. The dogs mill around under the table, and Jared just rolls his eyes when Jensen sneaks them the fatty bits of his steak. Jared puts his fork down after a few bites. "Jensen," he says, gnawing on his lower lip. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm okay with the cereal boxes. I'll put away your stupid cereal boxes every day for the rest of my life, man. I'd be happy to." "Wow," Jensen deadpans. "Romantic." "I mean it." Jensen looks down into the salad bowl and starts poking around for a tomato. He can't really look at Jared's face right now; it's too blindingly bright, too much of everything all focused right on him. "Yeah, Jay. I know you do." "So I'm gonna take the summer off. Probably do some golfing; maybe go visit Mackenzie for a couple weeks. She keeps bugging me to come see her so she can show off how well she knows the subway lines, or whatever." "Mmhmm." "Mom? Are you even paying attention?" "Mmhmm." "Mom. I'm in love with Jared. We're converting my old bedroom into a game room, so we can set up our Rockband system. And we're thinking about going to the pound this weekend to adopt another dog. And he's coming to your Fourth of July party with me so I can officially introduce him to Granny as my boyfriend." "Mmhmmwhat? Oh, Jensen, don't be silly. I'm listening."