Disclaimer: This is all a damned dirty lie. More’s the pity.
Rubbing a hand down the length of his face Jensen focuses on his reflection in the mirror. He has no clue how he got here. To this place where he's living this double-triple-secret life. Every nerve in his body is taught and quivering, strained to breaking. He hates these conventions. He's just not this guy. He's not the guy who can let seemingly innocuous comments about his "true" feelings for Jared run off his back like water. He's not the calm and patient man who smiles tolerantly when yet another "fan" brings up the topic of "slash" and how does he feel about the brothers being written that way? Most of all, he's not the buddy who can sit idly by and let his best friend romp and tease and have a bromance with another actor without being bothered by it.
Jensen is none of these things, because all those are lies. What he is, what he truly is, deep down in the places he doesn't show anyone, is jealous. He's envious of those people who can just live their lives without extended and exegetic commentary on every word, look and motion that they make. He's resentful of those folks who can be in open and honest relationships without any fear of being judged for being "wrong" or outside the norm. He's nearly green with the rolling in his gut when Jared and Misha manage to be so comfortable in their own skins and project EXACTLY who they are with no repercussions--if anything, they receive adulation and praise for their antics. And while they blithely revel in their true joy of being honest with each other, Jensen lets his jealousy twist inside him until it becomes an agonizing pain.
Later, when Jared arrives at his room with a case of Corona and a lazy grin, Jensen doesn't meet his eyes, just swings the door open and stands back. He'd asked Danneel if he could have a few hours alone with Jared when they'd been lazing by the pool earlier. She understood. They’d never talked about it, what Jensen felt for Jared, but he knew that Danni knew. She had said yes even though he could hear the underlying sadness in her voice which she tried to smooth away with the gentle caress of her thumb over his hand.
"Damn hard to find this shit in these parts, Jen. We've got to break out and start sampling the local brew at some point." Jared grabbed a bottle and twisted off the top as he sprawled into the easy chair across from the TV.
Jensen ignores this and asks, "Did you get limes?"
"Ayuh," and he shifts a bit in the chair to shove one hand in his pocket, bringing out two limes in his huge grip.
Parting his hands in an invitation to throw, Jensen waits for Jared to toss them his way.
Shaking his head, Jared says, "Naw, come and get 'em." His eyes are twinkling and his mouth is lifted at the corner, teasing Jensen--goading Jensen.
Jensen closes his eyes briefly and inhales, steeling himself, then steps forward and reaches out. "I'm not in the mood Jared. Just give me the damn limes."
Brow furrowing, Jared leans forward slightly and places them into Jensen's hand. "What's going on man?"
Shaking his head he moves back to the bar, "Nothing. I'm just...drained. It's been a long couple of days." He begins searching through the drawer for a knife.
Jensen looks up abruptly, Jared's eyes are firmly locked on his face as he takes a long swallow of his beer, lips wrapped around the edge of the bottle neck, throat working under days of scruffy beard.
"You've been like this for a while now--all pissy and guarded,” he stops for a beat and thinks, “Pretty much ever since we got back from the con in LA." Lifting his long legs onto the ottoman, Jared crosses his boots and leans back farther in the chair, looking for all the world like he doesn't know that he's crawling under Jensen's skin with his comments.
Jensen drops his gaze back to the open drawer and selects a paring knife from the collection there, closes it and begins slicing the lime into quarters and then eighths and then each wedge in half at the midpoint, giving him 32 little bits of lime for his beer. When he finishes he places the knife into the sink, rinses his hands and wipes them on the stack of paper towels by the sink edge.
When he finally looks up, Jared has drained the rest of his beer and sits casually twirling the bottle between his fingers where it's balanced on the arm of the chair. Jared's still staring at him, clearly expecting a response of some kind.
Gripping the counter edge, and inhaling deeply, Jensen says, "I can't do this anymore Jared. When I get back to Vancouver in the fall, I'll be moving out, getting my own place."
He hadn't known precisely how Jared would react, but a head tilt and an appraising look were not high on the list of expected reactions.
"What do you mean, Jensen?"
Sighing, he gestures to Jared and then to himself, "This. Us. Whatever this is. I can't do it anymore. It's over."
Jared still doesn't make a motion other than to shake his head and squint his eyes saying, "I don't get it."
Frustrating bastard. Jensen walks around the bar and comes to stand at Jared's side, looking down at his...friend. "I need for us to be friends Jared. You're the best friend I have. One of the best I've EVER had, but I can't, I can't...you..." He looks up at the ceiling as if the words he needs are there, "Today. You and Misha. I can't do that Jared. I wish I could, but I can't. And I..." he breaks off again, swallowing, "I love you man, but I can't be that."
"I don't think I'm on the same page here Ackles," Jared has shifted position and is now leaning forward on the edge of the chair, feet on the floor, but still looking at Jensen intently, "I don't know what it is that you think Misha has that you don't, or what exactly it is that we're doing that you can't. Help me out here, man."
"Fuck." Jensen huffs and stalks to the other side of the room. "Open. I can't be open. I can't tease you, I can't banter with the fans, and I can't even physically touch you without setting off a firestorm of speculation for Christ’s sake!"
Jared is still staring at him. Only now it was as if Jensen had suddenly sprouted another arm, or a second head, then an earsplitting grin shoots across his face, "Good googly-moogly Ackles. You're jealous!"
Whipping around to face him, Jensen practically snarls, “And what if I am?”
The taut anger in Jensen’s voice is lost on Jared as he's currently doubled over and pounding on the ottoman, howling with laughter. Eventually, Jared leans back in the chair, holding his stomach and wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh man, dude. Oh man.”
“What the fuck do you find so funny Jared?” He takes a step forward, crossing his arms and setting his jaw. Jensen's even more angry now, he wants to punch his costar, kick him, anything to make the amusement he found over Jensen’s confession of his roiling emotions stop.
Before Jensen can blink, Jared is looming over him, completely engulfing his personal space. “You have no idea, do you?”
Suddenly Jared’s massive hand is cupping the back of Jensen’s head, spanning almost from temple to temple as he brings his lips down in a crushing kiss. For seconds Jensen doesn’t respond. He can’t. The synapses in his brain have completely stopped firing. Then the heat from Jared’s body begins to soak into his clothes, warming his torso and the firm pressure of Jared’s slightly parted mouth on his begins to register and Jensen is lost. He inhales deeply smelling a warm note of cologne, a softer note of dried sweat and finally underneath it, the musk that is solely Jared. His body stops listening to his brain’s commands and starts working on instinct.
Jensen wraps one arm along Jared’s back, cupping his shoulder and encases Jared’s waist with the other, pressing them even closer together as he parts his mouth to receive Jared’s kisses. Then he becomes the aggressor as he seeks out the depths of Jared’s mouth, feeling their tongues twist together, pulling the flat of his tongue along the ridges of the taller man’s mouth, then tangling tongues together again from Jared’s mouth to his and back again.
Jared’s hands are anything but still as he moves them from cupping Jensen’s head to running his thumbs across Jensen’s cheekbones, then down his back and over his ass, pulling Jensen close, as if trying to encase him in his own body, forcing him to feel the growing hardness in Jared’s jeans, pressing the hard bulge there against Jensen’s own.
Jensen has no idea how long they stand there kissing, but it's long enough to make his pulse pound in his ears, his lungs short of breath, his legs slightly wobbly and his vision blurred.
He looks at Jared for a few quiet moments while his body attempts to re-regulate itself. Bastard is grinning at him again. Except this time there's a definite “cat-who-got-the-cream” quality to it.
Just to make it stop, that stupid smugness, Jensen grabs Jared’s face and pulls him back down, claiming his lips, nipping at them, licking at them, and then moving down his stupid scruffy jaw until he reaches a spot on Jared’s neck that elicits a harshly whispered curse and proceeds to suck and lave the hell out of it. What Jensen doesn't pay enough attention to are Jared’s hands.
Jared’s hands always did have a propensity for wandering…onto Jensen’s plate for his fries…onto Jensen’s controller to randomly press buttons when Jensen was kicking his ass at Guitar hero…onto Jensen’s paper in the morning…onto…
“Oh Christ!” He comes away from Jared’s neck with a start and stares down between them. Somehow, Jensen had failed to notice Jared unzipping both their pants and not only freeing his own cock from the confines of clothing, but now he was sliding his hand down Jensen’s abdomen and underneath the band of his boxers. When Jared’s long fingers find his dick, a low stretched groan escapes him. He feels hypnotized by the view of Jared’s cock trapped between them, head slick and glossy, flushed with blood. And then his own dick alongside it, Jared’s hand wrapped around them both. Jared’s breath hitches and then his forehead is touching Jensen’s as their eyes focus on their cocks firmly gripped in Jared’s hand. When Jared’s thumb rubs over the top of Jensen’s cockhead and then his own Jensen nearly loses his load right there: he can feel the pulse in Jared’s cock running counterpoint to his own, the pleasurable burning warmth of thin, taut skin against his own. And then Jared moves his hand again, stroking them both, up and down and up and down. Rising on the balls of his feet, Jensen surges upward in conjunction with the strokes, willing himself not to come, not to lose it so soon. He grips Jared’s waist, feeling the solid bone beneath muscle, trying to keep himself from flying apart.
He comes almost as soon as the words start tumbling out of Jared’s mouth in a low filthy rasp, “Fuck yeah, Jen. Been wanting this, wanting you, so long. Touch you. Feel your cock. Kiss your fucking mouth, make you mine…”
Unable to control it any longer, his orgasm surges from him, coating Jared’s fist and their cocks, spattering against Jared’s shirt, dripping down onto both of their pants. If anything, it only gets better as Jared continues his strokes, adding a bit of a twist on the downstroke, moving faster now that there's less friction due to the spunk speeding his way. Jensen watches, cock so sensitized, lip firm between his teeth to keep from crying out, determined to watch Jared spill too. The near painful point of oversensitization is starting when Jared’s hips buck forward and he thows his head back, exposing tendons and the secret skin of his neck as he shouts his release with Jensen’s name.
If it hadn’t been for the lassitude creeping into his muscles and the fact that his dick was hanging out, come drying on his clothes and skin, he might have thought he imagined what had just happened. But Jared’s own soft cock, intense gaze and kiss-swollen lips are an outside reminder that this HAS happened.
Jared starts tucking himself away. Looking at Jensen he says, “I will NEVER have with Misha what I have with you Jensen.” He moves back into Jensen’s personal space. “I don’t want to. You are my best friend. You are my co-star. You are my roommate. You are the only man outside my family that I love.” He stops for a second and corrects, “Except for Chad, but I definitely don’t love my family or Chad the way I love you.”
Jensen finds himself emulating Jared’s speculative gaze from earlier, “You love me, huh?”
Jared punches him on the shoulder, “Duh.”
For the first time that day, Jensen smiles. A real, genuine, unguarded smile.
Raising his eyebrows Jared asks, “You still moving out when we get back to Canada?”
Turning, Jensen starts setting himself to rights and makes his way back to the bar for a beer and a lime. “Nah, you’re stuck with me now, Gigantor.”
“Awesome!” Jensen sees Jared moving to the bed from the corner of his eye, “Bring me a beer when you come.”
Smiling Jensen responds, “Lazy bastard.”
“And you love me!”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”