Title: Guitar Strings and Bands of Rosewood
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Jensen/Jared, Tom Welling, Michael Rosenbaum, and more
Warnings: Man love (M/M), RPS, Cursing, Sex!, A bunch of angst, Shmoop!, Some corny parts (But who doesn’t love the corn?)
Total Word Count: 21,227
Summary: A month after they broke up, Jared and Jensen still aren’t speaking. However, with a little help from family and friends, they might just have a chance. AU
Disclaimer: This probably never happened, so it’s not real. Just a figment of a sick, bored, lonely girl’s imagination. Part of the title of this song came from the Black Lab song “Ten Million Years”. The song “Crazy Love” belongs to Van Morrison. The song “Far Away” belongs to Nickelback. The lyrics for the songs in the story were procured through various online lyric websites, so all the errors in there are theirs, not mine.
Notes: Written for batoutofkansas prompt 36. I was a varsity tackle and a hell of a block/When I played my guitar/I made the canyons rock, but/Every Saturday night/I felt the fever grow.
+ + + +
More Notes: I realize this isn’t the best interpretation of this prompt, but I hope this lives up to any expectations you might have. Let me explain: I saw Jensen playing a guitar, pining for Jared, and then I knew, because Jared/Jensen is so OTP, that they had to get together. I wanted to insert Jared’s momma, and then Tom and Mike kind of…showed up. So, it evolved. Also, this is set slightly in the future, after “Supernatural” has ended (god forbid!).
Even More Notes: I would like to thank my lovely betas,![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
goddamnarmsrace and sinuous_curve for their wonderful contributions, their patience, and encouraging me when I was complaining about this fic and stressing out all over the place. Thanks bunches, loves! I would also like to thank antheia, the mod of ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
batoutofkansas for her patience and flexibility with the deadline. I realize this is uber late, but I hope you all enjoy it!
Last Note, I Promise: This was originally intended to be 3,000 words total, max, but it ended up being closer to 20,000 words and more than 30 pages long. Huh.
+ + + +
Part One A Thousand Miles
The pictures were turned face down.
It was the first thing Sharon Padalecki noticed when she entered her son’s apartment in Los Angeles. Three pictures lined the coffee table in the living room, and all faced the glass, as if they had haphazardly fallen over and no one noticed until now. But Sharon knew that wasn’t the case, since they looked as if they were planted that way carefully, gently.
But they were still face down.
Jared was out in the parking lot, getting Sharon’s bags, so she thought he wouldn’t mind her picking them up and putting them to rights. She reached out and kindly plucked the first off the table and looked it over. She had expected a picture of Sandy, Jared’s long time girlfriend, who broke up with him a year ago (Sharon knew how much her son had loved her, and probably couldn’t bear to part with the photographs). But the picture wasn’t of Jared and Sandy; it turned out to be one of him with his former co-star, Jensen Ackles. They were dressed for clubbing, but instead of hitting the night scene, both men sat on Jared’s living room couch, clutching game controllers in their hands and yelling at the television. Some sort of video game flashed on the screen in the background.
What stood out in Sharon’s mind was how happy and carefree her baby boy seemed. How utterly comfortable he looked with the other man. Why would this picture, obviously handled often if the fingerprints on the frame were any indication, be turned upside down? She set it down, this time right side up, and reached for the second. Another picture of Jared and Jensen, this time at a television function. Jensen had his hand over Jared’s heart and Jared had his arm around his friend. The third was a picture with Jared, Chad Michael Murray (whom Sharon had met when Jared brought him home a few years ago for Christmas and wasn’t too crazy about), a tall (almost Jared’s height) man with black hair she’d seen on that one show about Superman, and Jensen. They all looked so happy.
Sharon finished arranging the three frames on the table as the apartment door opened and her giant of a son walked through, carrying her suitcase and small travel bags. He took awhile because his apartment building didn’t have an elevator (why, Sharon didn’t know). It gave Sharon time to rearrange the pictures and look around a bit.
“You get everything?” Sharon asked, gesturing to the bags and suitcase Jared heaved into the living room.
“Just about, Momma,” Jared answered, smiling brightly. “I don’t think I can haul anymore up the stairs.” A thin sheen of sweat covered his reddened face and his arms strained against the fabric of his tee shirt. He set the luggage down and let out a long breath. “Seriously, Momma, what did you pack in there? The thing weighs a ton and the building doesn’t have an elevator.”
“And why is that, JT?” Sharon asked her son. She smiled gently as she berated him on the lack of elevator in the building. Truth was, Sharon didn’t mind it much, but what was a mother’s role besides nagging?
“Dunno, Momma. Just the way it is, I guess,” Jared said absently, not even bothering to really consider her question. His mind went from the lack of elevator to the pictures that had been moved on his coffee table immediately.
“I straightened them out,” Sharon told her son as she noticed the new focus of his attention. “They were turned over. I’m sure that was just an oversight on your part. Now, I’ll get settled in the spare bedroom. Still down the hall, to the left?”
Jared nodded absently and kept his eyes on the photos as Sharon started for the hall. Before heading into the spare room, Sharon took one last look at her boy, and saw him cradle the first photo in his hands. His thumb stroked over the glass, as if touching the skin of a lover; carefully and tenderly. Then, he grabbed all three of the pictures and shoved them into a drawer of the desk sitting a few feet away. Sharon ducked into the room before he could see her peeking.
When Jared suggested taking his mother out to dinner that night, Sharon insisted they stay in. She didn’t want her son spending any more money on her than he had already (after all, he’d pitched in for the plane ticket from Houston to LA), and she knew he missed her home cooked meals. Sharon imagined he didn’t get much of that out here in the big city.
She’d gone out and gotten the ingredients to make spaghetti and meatballs. She stirred the sauce while Jared tore lettuce at the table.
“JT, can you get the Ranch from the fridge?” Sharon asked, making sure the heat was turned down on the sauce. The noodles steamed in the pot, and a glass of water to Sharon’s left sat practically untouched. Jared placed the Ranch on the table and went up behind his mom, hugged her around the waist and placed his chin on her head.
“Thanks for comin’, Momma,” Jared said, relief evident in his voice. Truth was, after nearly a month of moping around and feeling sorry for himself, he wanted his mom. She always seemed to make things right, and it was some of that magic that Jared needed right now.
“No problem, baby,” Sharon said softly, patting Jared’s hand. She squeezed it tightly and smiled to herself. She loved her children, all three of them, but sometimes, she thought she was closest to Jared. He wasn’t her favorite (she had no favorites), but he had grown into one of the sweetest young men she’d ever known. It was moments like these that reaffirmed her belief.
When he called, she had been ready to run to LA if she had to. Now, that wouldn’t be the easiest way to get there, but you get the gist. She knew something was wrong, and the more she was here, the more she felt like she was right. He carried it all in his shoulders, had since he was a boy, and now, he was wound so tight, if the way he held himself was any indication. She’d be a liar (and Sharon Padalecki was no liar) if she said she hadn’t worried.
“Now, let’s say we get this dinner on the road now?” Sharon asked, taking the sauce off the burner and patting her son’s hand one final time. “JT, can you get the pasta?” He nodded, chin bobbing on the crown of her head, and he went to go drain the pasta.
+ + + +
The E sounded high and clear, but a little sharp. Jensen reached up the guitar’s neck and adjusted the tuning knob. Plucked it again. There. Much better. He grinned as he listened to the few notes he played. E, F, G. He reached and hit that A. Beautiful. Jensen grinned and settled the large acoustic guitar across his lap. He reached up and wrapped his fingers loosely around the top of the neck, hanging his right arm over the face of the guitar. He closed his eyes, the pick clenched between his thumb and forefinger, and started to play.
At first, he didn’t know what he was playing. Just warming up or something like that. But, as he listened, he caught the first few introductory chords to “Crazy Love”. Jensen ceased his playing immediately, holding his hand over the mouth of the instrument to silence the strings.
“Fuck.”
What was he doing? The last time he’d played that, it had been practically a month ago and he’d been sitting with his guitar over his knee like so in this very apartment. That morning, Jared lay in bed with his hands beneath his chin as he watched Jensen; eyes closed and fingers calmly strumming. His voice carried through the apartment, and when he opened his eyes and finished the song, he noticed Jared sitting there in front of him, eyes connecting with his.
Jensen watched Jared sleep, his hair on Jensen’s pillow, his hand curled in Jensen’s sheets, his body swathed in Jensen’s scent. His eyes were closed and a smile curled his lips. Jensen didn’t know whether he was having a really, really good dream or remembering the night before.
He got out of bed, naked as the day his momma birthed him, and reached for the guitar case at the bottom of his closet. He kept it there, out of the way, so he and Jared didn’t accidentally bump into it during their more…excited…”sessions”. Jensen blushed just thinking about it, and flicked open the silver clasps.
His baby was lying in there, shiny and new. Well, it wasn’t new at all (in fact, the guitar was a gift from Chris a long time ago), but he’d taken care of it. He’d be a fool not to. Jensen reached in, picked it up, and set it across his bare thigh. The wood was cool and he shivered a little. Jensen looked over, noticing the way Jared’s mouth hung open, and he couldn’t help it.
It must have been the sappy side in him, the side that somehow escaped the toughening up of puberty. No matter how much testosterone and manliness flowed through his veins, Jensen had a soft spot, and right now, it reared its corny head. Jensen thought about it for a moment, set his fingers to the neck, and strummed.
When it came time to sing, he let the words come out, as if they came from somewhere deeper within, somewhere unexpected.
“I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles And the heavens open every time she smiles And when I come to her that’s where I belong Yet I’m running to her like a river’s song
She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love
She’s got a fine sense of humor when I’m feeling down And when I come to her when the sun goes down She takes away my troubles, takes away my grief Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief
Yes, I need her in the daytime Yes, I need her in the night Yes, I want to throw my arms around her Kiss her, hug her, kiss and hug her tight
When I’m returning from so far away She gives me some sweet loving, brightens up my day Yes, it makes me righteous, yes, it makes me feel whole Yes, it makes me mellow down into my soul
She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love
“Aren’t you using the wrong pronouns?” Jared’s tired voice called from the bed. Jensen turned around, seeing his lover’s face turned up at him. Jensen smiled and silenced the strings.
"What?” Jensen asked, not catching much of what Jared said.
“Aren’t you using the wrong pronouns? You’re saying ‘her’ instead of ‘him’, and I assume you’re serenading me,” Jared said with a mischievous smirk. He sat up and leaned against the wooden headboard. It was a nice bed from Furniture Warehouse or whatever it was called, but seeing Jared’s body against it took attention off the fancy designs carved into the wood and just made you focus on him. On Jared. And that was something Jensen didn’t really mind doing.
“Oops, sorry about that,” Jensen apologized and started in with the song again, changing every ‘her’ to ‘him’, and ‘she’ to ‘he’. He watched Jared move along the bed and shift to lean on his elbows near Jensen’s side. He looked up, watching Jensen play. When Jensen finished the song again, Jared just lay there, silent and contemplative. The only sign of what he was thinking was the look that crossed his features. Jensen trembled down to his toes…and it wasn’t because he was cold.
”What are you thinking about, Jay?” Jensen asked, grinning, knowing exactly what Jared had on his mind. Jared leaned over the guitar, not caring that it got in the way and made the kiss somewhat messy and off-center. He planted his lips on Jensen’s. The kiss was tender and soft. It was so nice that Jensen didn’t even care about Jared’s morning breath.
“Thank you,” Jared whispered, his voice husky and gruff. Jensen nodded. He couldn’t think of what to say, so he didn’t say anything, didn’t take the risk of ruining the moment, as he leaned in and grazed his lips across Jared’s.
“You’re welcome.” Jensen trailed his mouth across Jared’s jaw, nibbling here and there. He finally came to Jared’s ear and tugged the earlobe between his teeth. “Let’s go take a shower.”
Jared pulled away and kissed him again, this time with a bit more force. “Okay.”
Jensen remembered that day. It had been the last one he and Jared had spent together, before it all went to Hell. Before he got pissed off and said all those things to Jared, before Jensen made Jared walk out that door and never come back. Before Jared stopped answering his phone and eventually changed his number. Before everything that was good in Jensen’s life ended abruptly. Corny, but true.
Looking down at the instrument still in his hands, Jensen sneered at the gleaming wood and the brand new pick guard. How could something that didn’t resemble Jared in the slightest remind Jensen so much of him?
Jensen flipped open the black guitar case and placed his instrument against the padded velvet lining. He made sure that it was secured within the case before shutting it and snapping the silver clasps shut.
He put the case off to the side and spread himself out over his leather couch. Normally, the couch seemed kind of unwelcoming. It looked out of place, like a limousine in a junk yard. The rest of his house was messy (he usually cleaned it, but in the past few weeks, he didn’t have the heart), but his couch looked clean and brand new; even had the new couch smell. Of course, with as much activity as his last couch saw, Jensen expected to break in the new piece of furniture within a few days.
But Jensen wasn’t focusing on his couch. Actually, he was focusing on why it had taken only a few days to break in his last couch. That’s when he was with Jared, when they were friends, when they were more, when they still spoke. Jared would always be over when they stayed in LA and he wasn’t exactly the calmest of house guests. From jumping up and down to falling over drunk, the couch endured a lot of wear and tear. Not that Jensen much cared. At the time, it had been mildly annoying. But now, the memories were just adorable.
Jensen reached down to the floor where he’d knocked the remote, and turned the television on. He didn’t really want to watch anything, but he didn’t have anything else to do, so TV it was. And the first thing he turned on…reruns of “Gilmore Girls”. Jensen groaned and switched the channel, trying to find something that didn’t remind him of Jared. Of course, after two video game commercials (all that he’d played with him), a Tag body spray commercial (was it Jensen or did that guy being attacked by the blondes resemble Jared?), and a televangelist preaching against homosexuality (and that was just a bit too coincidental, right?), Jensen finally shut the TV off and shoved the remote into the couch cushions. He hoped he didn’t find it for a very, very long time.
+ + + +
Jared watched television as his mother finished up with her shopping. He would go meet her at some café for lunch before heading back to his apartment for some down time, and until then, he had plenty of time to kill. He didn’t really know what to watch (daytime TV sucked, and Jared had no wish to watch the goings on of “General Hospital”), so he flipped here and there through channels. He finally gave up and ended up watching some plastic surgery infomercial starring an annoying blond woman who looked like she’d bought into the product a few too many times.
Just as the commercial started into the second explanation of how easy and affordable the procedure was (though it was interesting how they never actually told you how much it cost), someone knocked on his front door. Before he even had time to get up and answer it, a whiny voice sounded in the hallway.
“Padalecki, let me in! It’s fucking cold out here!” Michael Rosenbaum’s voice filtered through the door and Jared rose quickly to open it. As he did, he saw the famed Lex Luthor, bald head replaced by spiky dark brown hair slowly lengthening into curls, dressed in a leather jacket, tee shirt, and jeans with some kind of Cons on his feet (though, instead of the traditional black or other solid color, these ones featured green skulls and crossbones).
“It’s not cold out there,” Jared said, as he let Mike into his apartment.
“I know. If anything, it’s fucking hot out there,” Mike complained, chucking his jacket onto the nearest chair. “You should really talk to someone about that. I could have gotten heat stroke.”
“Drama queen,” Jared hissed under his breath as he went into the kitchen, fetching some beers for them.
“Chewbacca,” Mike replied quickly. When Jared handed him the beer, he took a long swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” He set the beer bottle on Jared’s dining room table, not heeding the traditional “Put a coaster under that!” warning Jared yelled at him before doing it himself. The years that Mike and Jared had known each other, Mike never actually used a coaster when asked. Not one of his more endearing qualities.
“What are you doing here, Mike?” Jared asked as he sipped his own beer.
“Well, I’m not here to chit-chat if that’s what you mean,” Mike said, running his hand through his newly grown locks. “I’m here to invite you to dinner tonight. Just wanna hang out, get caught up.”
Jared almost fell for it. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”
“It’s true, dude! I’m here to invite you to dinner. Get some food, have some beer, chat about the weather. All that jazz.” He gulped some more beer, and watched Jared to see if he would buy it.
No dice.
“Okay, fine. Tom wanted me to check up on you. We heard about your little tiff with Jenny,” Mike mentioned, taking a nonchalant drink from his bottle. Jared tried to appear as if he didn’t care, but really, who was he fooling? With the merest mention of Jensen, his blood started to boil, his skin grew warm, and his breath caught. Even after near a month of never speaking to him, never seeing him (except for the unfortunate reruns of “Dark Angel” on the SciFi channel late Friday nights), Jared still wanted him. He tried to convince himself otherwise after their huge fight, but his body didn’t really listen to him. So, here he was, brooding in his apartment, wanting a guy he’d shut the door on. Well, slammed the door, locked it, and buried the damn key in the middle of nowhere.
What a mess –and metaphor- he’d gotten himself into.
“I’m fine,” Jared insisted, turning his bottle in his hands.
“Sure, Jare-Bear,” Mike, using the nickname that Jared utterly despised, dismissed his previous statement. “If you’re so fine, then you won’t mind going out with me and Tom tonight.”
Jared was glad that he had a legitimate excuse; he just wasn’t up for the madness sure to ensue with Mike and Tom together. Since their “Smallville” days, they had been inseparable, almost like Jared and Jensen…except Mike and Tom weren’t fucking each other. At least, Jared didn’t think they were. You never knew with Mike, though Tom’s wife, Jamie, might have something to say about that.
“Can’t. My mom’s in town,” Jared answered. He didn’t like using his mother as an excuse, but desperate times call for equally desperate measures.
“Bring her along. Kind of want to meet the mom that birthed the Sasquatch.” Mike chuckled darkly and ducked the better run glare Jared sent his way. Nobody talked about his momma that way.
“Dude, this isn’t much incentive for me to go with y’all tonight. Insulting my momma, insulting me. You really need to work on your people skills,” Jared advised his formerly bald friend, who shrugged all he’d said off and smiled that charming yet dangerous and kind of scary grin.
“Naw. I’m perfect just the way I am.” Mike shrugged and finished off his beer. It had to be the fastest (without intentionally racing) Jared saw someone drink a beer. But that’s how Mike operated: fast. Everything he did, from talking to driving (and it was terrifying to be in the same car with him in the driver’s seat…Jared knew from personal experience), was always faster than everyone else. It’s kind of amazing that he remained alive and perfectly healthy.
Silence followed. As soon as a couple of seconds passed without someone saying something, Mike had to chime in and break that silence.
“So, dinner?” He asked, his eyes boring into Jared’s.
“Just told you. Can’t.”
“Don’t be such a pussy, Padalecki,” Mike complained. “Come on. It’s just dinner with me and Tom. Tom’ll keep me in line. Bring your mom if you wanna. I’ll behave.” And he brought out the eyes.
Michael Rosenbaum wouldn’t get half the stuff he wanted if he didn’t have the eyes. The patented, should be honored with a medal Rosenbaum Puppy Dog Eyes. Normally, he was such an asshole that you couldn’t help but slap him upside the head. But when he brought out his secret weapon, even the most powerful and stoic of soldiers would be reduced to goo.
Just so he could get Mike out of his apartment and hurry to make it in time to meet his mother, Jared bowed his head and answered, “Yeah, whatever, sure.”
And then he reverted back to manic, probably hyped up on sugar, way too damn annoying for before five in the afternoon Rosenbaum. He slapped a humungous grin on his face and wrapped his arm around Jared’s upper body, hugging him closely.
“Aw,” Mike crooned. “We’re all gonna be together again. You, me, Tom…and your mom.” When Jared shrugged his arms off, he moved to the side and glanced down at his impressive watch. For a moment, he just looked at it, as if transfixed by the shiny surface. Then, remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, Mike glanced up at the door. “Alright, well, I need to get out of here. So much time, so little to do. You know how it goes.” Mike nodded and left, Jared closed the door behind him.
Well, that was weird, Jared thought to himself as he went about his business in the apartment. Since when did Mike just pop by to invite him to dinner? Since when did Mike pop by at all? The only time Jared saw his fellow CW alumnus was at Tom’s place or at a party where they happened to run into each other. Mike wasn’t exactly Jared’s best friend, so they didn’t hang out all that often. So, when Mike shows up and randomly invites Jared to dinner (even if it was at the urging of Tom, Tom would have come along or at least called instead of sending his psychotic friend), something had to be up.
Which begged the question: what was up? What was Mike up to? It couldn’t be good because…you know…it was Mike.
But right now, all Jared cared about was getting in his car and heading towards the café where he promised to meet his mother in twenty minutes. He’d propose the idea of dinner, and hopefully, she’d turn it down.
+ + + +
“Dude, you look like shit. When was the last time you showered?”
Tom Welling went over to Jensen’s apartment, ready to invite him to dinner tonight with Mike, and what was the guy doing? Laying on the couch, soaking in his own filth, and watching “Dark Angel” reruns. The episode playing was “The Barrisford Agenda”, and it was the one where Jensen played the piano and got his angst on.
“I used to be good.” Jensen said coolly, flicking the television remote back and forth between his fingers. “I used to be damn good.” He smirked as his fingers ran over the keys on the TV. He could still play that song if he really tried; could make it through the runs and the high notes and the tempo being as fast as all fuck. “Then, he came along and BAM! I wasn’t good anymore.”
“Dude, are you fucking drunk?” Tom glanced around the apartment, finally eyeing the empty beer bottles littering the floor around the couch. “It’s barely noon!”
“So?” Jensen asks, finally glancing up at Tom’s looming form. “Man, you’re really tall. I mean, it’s like you’re a…giant…or something.” He hiccupped gently and let out a long laugh. “Almost like him.”
“Okay, whatever, man.” Tom rolled his eyes and glared down at his pretty much useless friend. “You’re gonna meet me and Mike tonight for dinner at Chino’s. I’m damn tired of you sulking in your apartment all the time. You’re coming out on the town, and for God’s sake, you’re gonna be clean. And sober.”
“WhatifIdon’twannago?” Jensen asked, his words slurring together and becoming one long, unintelligible sentence. Tom however, versed well in drunk speak from spending way too much time with Mike, understood every single word.
“You’re going, even if I have to drag you into the shower myself,” Tom growled. “And don’t think I won’t.”
Jensen glared at his friend, willing him away. When he didn’t immediately disappear, Jensen leaned back and tried to ignore him instead. When that didn’t work, Jensen gave up. He threw his hands into the air, let out a long breath, and rose, shaking slightly on his feet. He had to use the couch for support as he made his way to the hallway and on towards his bedroom.
“Just let me…pass out here for a couple of hours, and then…stop by later.”
And, pretty fast for a drunk guy, he was on his bed, snoring lightly as Tom watched, shaking his head at the display. Jensen was never usually like this. He never drank in the afternoon, he never sat around for days without showering, and he never left old pizza boxes on the floor around his living room. He never watched himself in any of his performances, and he never turned down a chance for partying and having a good time with Tom and Mike. Now, he gulped down four beers and a couple of shots in a sitting, sank into his own filth, never cleaned (and Jensen used to be obsessive about keeping everything around him spotless), and obviously hadn’t changed his clothes in quite a long time.
It was kind of gross.
“I’ll be back at seven to pick you up, jackass!” And Tom left; the only sign of acceptance from the lump formerly known as Jensen Ackles was a grunt and a growl.
+ + + +
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Jensen/Jared, Tom Welling, Michael Rosenbaum, and more
Warnings: Man love (M/M), RPS, Cursing, Sex!, A bunch of angst, Shmoop!, Some corny parts (But who doesn’t love the corn?)
Total Word Count: 21,227
Summary: A month after they broke up, Jared and Jensen still aren’t speaking. However, with a little help from family and friends, they might just have a chance. AU
Disclaimer: This probably never happened, so it’s not real. Just a figment of a sick, bored, lonely girl’s imagination. Part of the title of this song came from the Black Lab song “Ten Million Years”. The song “Crazy Love” belongs to Van Morrison. The song “Far Away” belongs to Nickelback. The lyrics for the songs in the story were procured through various online lyric websites, so all the errors in there are theirs, not mine.
Notes: Written for batoutofkansas prompt 36. I was a varsity tackle and a hell of a block/When I played my guitar/I made the canyons rock, but/Every Saturday night/I felt the fever grow.
+ + + +
More Notes: I realize this isn’t the best interpretation of this prompt, but I hope this lives up to any expectations you might have. Let me explain: I saw Jensen playing a guitar, pining for Jared, and then I knew, because Jared/Jensen is so OTP, that they had to get together. I wanted to insert Jared’s momma, and then Tom and Mike kind of…showed up. So, it evolved. Also, this is set slightly in the future, after “Supernatural” has ended (god forbid!).
Even More Notes: I would like to thank my lovely betas,
goddamnarmsrace and sinuous_curve for their wonderful contributions, their patience, and encouraging me when I was complaining about this fic and stressing out all over the place. Thanks bunches, loves! I would also like to thank antheia, the mod of batoutofkansas for her patience and flexibility with the deadline. I realize this is uber late, but I hope you all enjoy it! Last Note, I Promise: This was originally intended to be 3,000 words total, max, but it ended up being closer to 20,000 words and more than 30 pages long. Huh.
+ + + +
Part One A Thousand Miles
The pictures were turned face down.
It was the first thing Sharon Padalecki noticed when she entered her son’s apartment in Los Angeles. Three pictures lined the coffee table in the living room, and all faced the glass, as if they had haphazardly fallen over and no one noticed until now. But Sharon knew that wasn’t the case, since they looked as if they were planted that way carefully, gently.
But they were still face down.
Jared was out in the parking lot, getting Sharon’s bags, so she thought he wouldn’t mind her picking them up and putting them to rights. She reached out and kindly plucked the first off the table and looked it over. She had expected a picture of Sandy, Jared’s long time girlfriend, who broke up with him a year ago (Sharon knew how much her son had loved her, and probably couldn’t bear to part with the photographs). But the picture wasn’t of Jared and Sandy; it turned out to be one of him with his former co-star, Jensen Ackles. They were dressed for clubbing, but instead of hitting the night scene, both men sat on Jared’s living room couch, clutching game controllers in their hands and yelling at the television. Some sort of video game flashed on the screen in the background.
What stood out in Sharon’s mind was how happy and carefree her baby boy seemed. How utterly comfortable he looked with the other man. Why would this picture, obviously handled often if the fingerprints on the frame were any indication, be turned upside down? She set it down, this time right side up, and reached for the second. Another picture of Jared and Jensen, this time at a television function. Jensen had his hand over Jared’s heart and Jared had his arm around his friend. The third was a picture with Jared, Chad Michael Murray (whom Sharon had met when Jared brought him home a few years ago for Christmas and wasn’t too crazy about), a tall (almost Jared’s height) man with black hair she’d seen on that one show about Superman, and Jensen. They all looked so happy.
Sharon finished arranging the three frames on the table as the apartment door opened and her giant of a son walked through, carrying her suitcase and small travel bags. He took awhile because his apartment building didn’t have an elevator (why, Sharon didn’t know). It gave Sharon time to rearrange the pictures and look around a bit.
“You get everything?” Sharon asked, gesturing to the bags and suitcase Jared heaved into the living room.
“Just about, Momma,” Jared answered, smiling brightly. “I don’t think I can haul anymore up the stairs.” A thin sheen of sweat covered his reddened face and his arms strained against the fabric of his tee shirt. He set the luggage down and let out a long breath. “Seriously, Momma, what did you pack in there? The thing weighs a ton and the building doesn’t have an elevator.”
“And why is that, JT?” Sharon asked her son. She smiled gently as she berated him on the lack of elevator in the building. Truth was, Sharon didn’t mind it much, but what was a mother’s role besides nagging?
“Dunno, Momma. Just the way it is, I guess,” Jared said absently, not even bothering to really consider her question. His mind went from the lack of elevator to the pictures that had been moved on his coffee table immediately.
“I straightened them out,” Sharon told her son as she noticed the new focus of his attention. “They were turned over. I’m sure that was just an oversight on your part. Now, I’ll get settled in the spare bedroom. Still down the hall, to the left?”
Jared nodded absently and kept his eyes on the photos as Sharon started for the hall. Before heading into the spare room, Sharon took one last look at her boy, and saw him cradle the first photo in his hands. His thumb stroked over the glass, as if touching the skin of a lover; carefully and tenderly. Then, he grabbed all three of the pictures and shoved them into a drawer of the desk sitting a few feet away. Sharon ducked into the room before he could see her peeking.
When Jared suggested taking his mother out to dinner that night, Sharon insisted they stay in. She didn’t want her son spending any more money on her than he had already (after all, he’d pitched in for the plane ticket from Houston to LA), and she knew he missed her home cooked meals. Sharon imagined he didn’t get much of that out here in the big city.
She’d gone out and gotten the ingredients to make spaghetti and meatballs. She stirred the sauce while Jared tore lettuce at the table.
“JT, can you get the Ranch from the fridge?” Sharon asked, making sure the heat was turned down on the sauce. The noodles steamed in the pot, and a glass of water to Sharon’s left sat practically untouched. Jared placed the Ranch on the table and went up behind his mom, hugged her around the waist and placed his chin on her head.
“Thanks for comin’, Momma,” Jared said, relief evident in his voice. Truth was, after nearly a month of moping around and feeling sorry for himself, he wanted his mom. She always seemed to make things right, and it was some of that magic that Jared needed right now.
“No problem, baby,” Sharon said softly, patting Jared’s hand. She squeezed it tightly and smiled to herself. She loved her children, all three of them, but sometimes, she thought she was closest to Jared. He wasn’t her favorite (she had no favorites), but he had grown into one of the sweetest young men she’d ever known. It was moments like these that reaffirmed her belief.
When he called, she had been ready to run to LA if she had to. Now, that wouldn’t be the easiest way to get there, but you get the gist. She knew something was wrong, and the more she was here, the more she felt like she was right. He carried it all in his shoulders, had since he was a boy, and now, he was wound so tight, if the way he held himself was any indication. She’d be a liar (and Sharon Padalecki was no liar) if she said she hadn’t worried.
“Now, let’s say we get this dinner on the road now?” Sharon asked, taking the sauce off the burner and patting her son’s hand one final time. “JT, can you get the pasta?” He nodded, chin bobbing on the crown of her head, and he went to go drain the pasta.
+ + + +
The E sounded high and clear, but a little sharp. Jensen reached up the guitar’s neck and adjusted the tuning knob. Plucked it again. There. Much better. He grinned as he listened to the few notes he played. E, F, G. He reached and hit that A. Beautiful. Jensen grinned and settled the large acoustic guitar across his lap. He reached up and wrapped his fingers loosely around the top of the neck, hanging his right arm over the face of the guitar. He closed his eyes, the pick clenched between his thumb and forefinger, and started to play.
At first, he didn’t know what he was playing. Just warming up or something like that. But, as he listened, he caught the first few introductory chords to “Crazy Love”. Jensen ceased his playing immediately, holding his hand over the mouth of the instrument to silence the strings.
“Fuck.”
What was he doing? The last time he’d played that, it had been practically a month ago and he’d been sitting with his guitar over his knee like so in this very apartment. That morning, Jared lay in bed with his hands beneath his chin as he watched Jensen; eyes closed and fingers calmly strumming. His voice carried through the apartment, and when he opened his eyes and finished the song, he noticed Jared sitting there in front of him, eyes connecting with his.
Jensen watched Jared sleep, his hair on Jensen’s pillow, his hand curled in Jensen’s sheets, his body swathed in Jensen’s scent. His eyes were closed and a smile curled his lips. Jensen didn’t know whether he was having a really, really good dream or remembering the night before.
He got out of bed, naked as the day his momma birthed him, and reached for the guitar case at the bottom of his closet. He kept it there, out of the way, so he and Jared didn’t accidentally bump into it during their more…excited…”sessions”. Jensen blushed just thinking about it, and flicked open the silver clasps.
His baby was lying in there, shiny and new. Well, it wasn’t new at all (in fact, the guitar was a gift from Chris a long time ago), but he’d taken care of it. He’d be a fool not to. Jensen reached in, picked it up, and set it across his bare thigh. The wood was cool and he shivered a little. Jensen looked over, noticing the way Jared’s mouth hung open, and he couldn’t help it.
It must have been the sappy side in him, the side that somehow escaped the toughening up of puberty. No matter how much testosterone and manliness flowed through his veins, Jensen had a soft spot, and right now, it reared its corny head. Jensen thought about it for a moment, set his fingers to the neck, and strummed.
When it came time to sing, he let the words come out, as if they came from somewhere deeper within, somewhere unexpected.
“I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles And the heavens open every time she smiles And when I come to her that’s where I belong Yet I’m running to her like a river’s song
She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love
She’s got a fine sense of humor when I’m feeling down And when I come to her when the sun goes down She takes away my troubles, takes away my grief Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief
Yes, I need her in the daytime Yes, I need her in the night Yes, I want to throw my arms around her Kiss her, hug her, kiss and hug her tight
When I’m returning from so far away She gives me some sweet loving, brightens up my day Yes, it makes me righteous, yes, it makes me feel whole Yes, it makes me mellow down into my soul
She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love
“Aren’t you using the wrong pronouns?” Jared’s tired voice called from the bed. Jensen turned around, seeing his lover’s face turned up at him. Jensen smiled and silenced the strings.
"What?” Jensen asked, not catching much of what Jared said.
“Aren’t you using the wrong pronouns? You’re saying ‘her’ instead of ‘him’, and I assume you’re serenading me,” Jared said with a mischievous smirk. He sat up and leaned against the wooden headboard. It was a nice bed from Furniture Warehouse or whatever it was called, but seeing Jared’s body against it took attention off the fancy designs carved into the wood and just made you focus on him. On Jared. And that was something Jensen didn’t really mind doing.
“Oops, sorry about that,” Jensen apologized and started in with the song again, changing every ‘her’ to ‘him’, and ‘she’ to ‘he’. He watched Jared move along the bed and shift to lean on his elbows near Jensen’s side. He looked up, watching Jensen play. When Jensen finished the song again, Jared just lay there, silent and contemplative. The only sign of what he was thinking was the look that crossed his features. Jensen trembled down to his toes…and it wasn’t because he was cold.
”What are you thinking about, Jay?” Jensen asked, grinning, knowing exactly what Jared had on his mind. Jared leaned over the guitar, not caring that it got in the way and made the kiss somewhat messy and off-center. He planted his lips on Jensen’s. The kiss was tender and soft. It was so nice that Jensen didn’t even care about Jared’s morning breath.
“Thank you,” Jared whispered, his voice husky and gruff. Jensen nodded. He couldn’t think of what to say, so he didn’t say anything, didn’t take the risk of ruining the moment, as he leaned in and grazed his lips across Jared’s.
“You’re welcome.” Jensen trailed his mouth across Jared’s jaw, nibbling here and there. He finally came to Jared’s ear and tugged the earlobe between his teeth. “Let’s go take a shower.”
Jared pulled away and kissed him again, this time with a bit more force. “Okay.”
Jensen remembered that day. It had been the last one he and Jared had spent together, before it all went to Hell. Before he got pissed off and said all those things to Jared, before Jensen made Jared walk out that door and never come back. Before Jared stopped answering his phone and eventually changed his number. Before everything that was good in Jensen’s life ended abruptly. Corny, but true.
Looking down at the instrument still in his hands, Jensen sneered at the gleaming wood and the brand new pick guard. How could something that didn’t resemble Jared in the slightest remind Jensen so much of him?
Jensen flipped open the black guitar case and placed his instrument against the padded velvet lining. He made sure that it was secured within the case before shutting it and snapping the silver clasps shut.
He put the case off to the side and spread himself out over his leather couch. Normally, the couch seemed kind of unwelcoming. It looked out of place, like a limousine in a junk yard. The rest of his house was messy (he usually cleaned it, but in the past few weeks, he didn’t have the heart), but his couch looked clean and brand new; even had the new couch smell. Of course, with as much activity as his last couch saw, Jensen expected to break in the new piece of furniture within a few days.
But Jensen wasn’t focusing on his couch. Actually, he was focusing on why it had taken only a few days to break in his last couch. That’s when he was with Jared, when they were friends, when they were more, when they still spoke. Jared would always be over when they stayed in LA and he wasn’t exactly the calmest of house guests. From jumping up and down to falling over drunk, the couch endured a lot of wear and tear. Not that Jensen much cared. At the time, it had been mildly annoying. But now, the memories were just adorable.
Jensen reached down to the floor where he’d knocked the remote, and turned the television on. He didn’t really want to watch anything, but he didn’t have anything else to do, so TV it was. And the first thing he turned on…reruns of “Gilmore Girls”. Jensen groaned and switched the channel, trying to find something that didn’t remind him of Jared. Of course, after two video game commercials (all that he’d played with him), a Tag body spray commercial (was it Jensen or did that guy being attacked by the blondes resemble Jared?), and a televangelist preaching against homosexuality (and that was just a bit too coincidental, right?), Jensen finally shut the TV off and shoved the remote into the couch cushions. He hoped he didn’t find it for a very, very long time.
+ + + +
Jared watched television as his mother finished up with her shopping. He would go meet her at some café for lunch before heading back to his apartment for some down time, and until then, he had plenty of time to kill. He didn’t really know what to watch (daytime TV sucked, and Jared had no wish to watch the goings on of “General Hospital”), so he flipped here and there through channels. He finally gave up and ended up watching some plastic surgery infomercial starring an annoying blond woman who looked like she’d bought into the product a few too many times.
Just as the commercial started into the second explanation of how easy and affordable the procedure was (though it was interesting how they never actually told you how much it cost), someone knocked on his front door. Before he even had time to get up and answer it, a whiny voice sounded in the hallway.
“Padalecki, let me in! It’s fucking cold out here!” Michael Rosenbaum’s voice filtered through the door and Jared rose quickly to open it. As he did, he saw the famed Lex Luthor, bald head replaced by spiky dark brown hair slowly lengthening into curls, dressed in a leather jacket, tee shirt, and jeans with some kind of Cons on his feet (though, instead of the traditional black or other solid color, these ones featured green skulls and crossbones).
“It’s not cold out there,” Jared said, as he let Mike into his apartment.
“I know. If anything, it’s fucking hot out there,” Mike complained, chucking his jacket onto the nearest chair. “You should really talk to someone about that. I could have gotten heat stroke.”
“Drama queen,” Jared hissed under his breath as he went into the kitchen, fetching some beers for them.
“Chewbacca,” Mike replied quickly. When Jared handed him the beer, he took a long swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” He set the beer bottle on Jared’s dining room table, not heeding the traditional “Put a coaster under that!” warning Jared yelled at him before doing it himself. The years that Mike and Jared had known each other, Mike never actually used a coaster when asked. Not one of his more endearing qualities.
“What are you doing here, Mike?” Jared asked as he sipped his own beer.
“Well, I’m not here to chit-chat if that’s what you mean,” Mike said, running his hand through his newly grown locks. “I’m here to invite you to dinner tonight. Just wanna hang out, get caught up.”
Jared almost fell for it. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”
“It’s true, dude! I’m here to invite you to dinner. Get some food, have some beer, chat about the weather. All that jazz.” He gulped some more beer, and watched Jared to see if he would buy it.
No dice.
“Okay, fine. Tom wanted me to check up on you. We heard about your little tiff with Jenny,” Mike mentioned, taking a nonchalant drink from his bottle. Jared tried to appear as if he didn’t care, but really, who was he fooling? With the merest mention of Jensen, his blood started to boil, his skin grew warm, and his breath caught. Even after near a month of never speaking to him, never seeing him (except for the unfortunate reruns of “Dark Angel” on the SciFi channel late Friday nights), Jared still wanted him. He tried to convince himself otherwise after their huge fight, but his body didn’t really listen to him. So, here he was, brooding in his apartment, wanting a guy he’d shut the door on. Well, slammed the door, locked it, and buried the damn key in the middle of nowhere.
What a mess –and metaphor- he’d gotten himself into.
“I’m fine,” Jared insisted, turning his bottle in his hands.
“Sure, Jare-Bear,” Mike, using the nickname that Jared utterly despised, dismissed his previous statement. “If you’re so fine, then you won’t mind going out with me and Tom tonight.”
Jared was glad that he had a legitimate excuse; he just wasn’t up for the madness sure to ensue with Mike and Tom together. Since their “Smallville” days, they had been inseparable, almost like Jared and Jensen…except Mike and Tom weren’t fucking each other. At least, Jared didn’t think they were. You never knew with Mike, though Tom’s wife, Jamie, might have something to say about that.
“Can’t. My mom’s in town,” Jared answered. He didn’t like using his mother as an excuse, but desperate times call for equally desperate measures.
“Bring her along. Kind of want to meet the mom that birthed the Sasquatch.” Mike chuckled darkly and ducked the better run glare Jared sent his way. Nobody talked about his momma that way.
“Dude, this isn’t much incentive for me to go with y’all tonight. Insulting my momma, insulting me. You really need to work on your people skills,” Jared advised his formerly bald friend, who shrugged all he’d said off and smiled that charming yet dangerous and kind of scary grin.
“Naw. I’m perfect just the way I am.” Mike shrugged and finished off his beer. It had to be the fastest (without intentionally racing) Jared saw someone drink a beer. But that’s how Mike operated: fast. Everything he did, from talking to driving (and it was terrifying to be in the same car with him in the driver’s seat…Jared knew from personal experience), was always faster than everyone else. It’s kind of amazing that he remained alive and perfectly healthy.
Silence followed. As soon as a couple of seconds passed without someone saying something, Mike had to chime in and break that silence.
“So, dinner?” He asked, his eyes boring into Jared’s.
“Just told you. Can’t.”
“Don’t be such a pussy, Padalecki,” Mike complained. “Come on. It’s just dinner with me and Tom. Tom’ll keep me in line. Bring your mom if you wanna. I’ll behave.” And he brought out the eyes.
Michael Rosenbaum wouldn’t get half the stuff he wanted if he didn’t have the eyes. The patented, should be honored with a medal Rosenbaum Puppy Dog Eyes. Normally, he was such an asshole that you couldn’t help but slap him upside the head. But when he brought out his secret weapon, even the most powerful and stoic of soldiers would be reduced to goo.
Just so he could get Mike out of his apartment and hurry to make it in time to meet his mother, Jared bowed his head and answered, “Yeah, whatever, sure.”
And then he reverted back to manic, probably hyped up on sugar, way too damn annoying for before five in the afternoon Rosenbaum. He slapped a humungous grin on his face and wrapped his arm around Jared’s upper body, hugging him closely.
“Aw,” Mike crooned. “We’re all gonna be together again. You, me, Tom…and your mom.” When Jared shrugged his arms off, he moved to the side and glanced down at his impressive watch. For a moment, he just looked at it, as if transfixed by the shiny surface. Then, remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, Mike glanced up at the door. “Alright, well, I need to get out of here. So much time, so little to do. You know how it goes.” Mike nodded and left, Jared closed the door behind him.
Well, that was weird, Jared thought to himself as he went about his business in the apartment. Since when did Mike just pop by to invite him to dinner? Since when did Mike pop by at all? The only time Jared saw his fellow CW alumnus was at Tom’s place or at a party where they happened to run into each other. Mike wasn’t exactly Jared’s best friend, so they didn’t hang out all that often. So, when Mike shows up and randomly invites Jared to dinner (even if it was at the urging of Tom, Tom would have come along or at least called instead of sending his psychotic friend), something had to be up.
Which begged the question: what was up? What was Mike up to? It couldn’t be good because…you know…it was Mike.
But right now, all Jared cared about was getting in his car and heading towards the café where he promised to meet his mother in twenty minutes. He’d propose the idea of dinner, and hopefully, she’d turn it down.
+ + + +
“Dude, you look like shit. When was the last time you showered?”
Tom Welling went over to Jensen’s apartment, ready to invite him to dinner tonight with Mike, and what was the guy doing? Laying on the couch, soaking in his own filth, and watching “Dark Angel” reruns. The episode playing was “The Barrisford Agenda”, and it was the one where Jensen played the piano and got his angst on.
“I used to be good.” Jensen said coolly, flicking the television remote back and forth between his fingers. “I used to be damn good.” He smirked as his fingers ran over the keys on the TV. He could still play that song if he really tried; could make it through the runs and the high notes and the tempo being as fast as all fuck. “Then, he came along and BAM! I wasn’t good anymore.”
“Dude, are you fucking drunk?” Tom glanced around the apartment, finally eyeing the empty beer bottles littering the floor around the couch. “It’s barely noon!”
“So?” Jensen asks, finally glancing up at Tom’s looming form. “Man, you’re really tall. I mean, it’s like you’re a…giant…or something.” He hiccupped gently and let out a long laugh. “Almost like him.”
“Okay, whatever, man.” Tom rolled his eyes and glared down at his pretty much useless friend. “You’re gonna meet me and Mike tonight for dinner at Chino’s. I’m damn tired of you sulking in your apartment all the time. You’re coming out on the town, and for God’s sake, you’re gonna be clean. And sober.”
“WhatifIdon’twannago?” Jensen asked, his words slurring together and becoming one long, unintelligible sentence. Tom however, versed well in drunk speak from spending way too much time with Mike, understood every single word.
“You’re going, even if I have to drag you into the shower myself,” Tom growled. “And don’t think I won’t.”
Jensen glared at his friend, willing him away. When he didn’t immediately disappear, Jensen leaned back and tried to ignore him instead. When that didn’t work, Jensen gave up. He threw his hands into the air, let out a long breath, and rose, shaking slightly on his feet. He had to use the couch for support as he made his way to the hallway and on towards his bedroom.
“Just let me…pass out here for a couple of hours, and then…stop by later.”
And, pretty fast for a drunk guy, he was on his bed, snoring lightly as Tom watched, shaking his head at the display. Jensen was never usually like this. He never drank in the afternoon, he never sat around for days without showering, and he never left old pizza boxes on the floor around his living room. He never watched himself in any of his performances, and he never turned down a chance for partying and having a good time with Tom and Mike. Now, he gulped down four beers and a couple of shots in a sitting, sank into his own filth, never cleaned (and Jensen used to be obsessive about keeping everything around him spotless), and obviously hadn’t changed his clothes in quite a long time.
It was kind of gross.
“I’ll be back at seven to pick you up, jackass!” And Tom left; the only sign of acceptance from the lump formerly known as Jensen Ackles was a grunt and a growl.
+ + + +
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