I’m gonna free fall out into nothin’ by marrieddorks (AO3)
A breeze from the open balcony doors brought a whiff of the peonies and sweet alyssums that were growing in their unexplored backyard and Jared stopped his fruitless ministrations to smile.
There was nothing that could bring him down today.
Nope, not even the soapbox rampage going on behind him, the one getting worse with each passing second they continued to lack niceties such as hot water and electricity and food and a place to sleep.
“And now you’re not listening.”
He turned that same smile to Jensen and the wattage of it only increased at the sight of his boyfriend – no, fiancé – and his seemingly permanent frown.
“You said that there’s no place open on Sunday,” he told him, fingers fidgeting with the stack of washers in his hand. Jensen narrowed his eyes dangerously but didn’t push.
“Nope.” Now he was pacing the expanse of what would be their living room, but paused, watching as Jared continued to play with the mess of Ikea pieces scattered on the floor. “Not a single one,” Jensen emphasized, making certain Jared could feel his frustration. “What kind of place is like that?”
“This place?” Jared ventured.
“This place! And do you want to know the real cherry on top of it all?” Jensen asked as if Jared didn’t already know. “There’s not even a supermarket here. In fact, the closest one is over forty-five minutes away. That means that if I want some bread, I’ve got to stand in line at the bakery and then if I want meat, I’ve got to head to an entirely different building, probably one on the other side of town, to take a number at a butcher’s. Hell, if I want a single damn tomato I’ll probably have to wait at the farmer’s market on a Saturday before the sun is even up. But guess what?”
“.... None of those places are open on Sunday?”
“None of those places are open on Sunday! Don’t these people ever need anything on a Sunday?” he asked rhetorically. “The place is like a damn Ren Faire only I can’t leave and go back to indoor plumbing.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Jensen,” Jared told him as if he hadn’t helped find and choose here at the start of their search.
“Yeah, I know,” Jensen deadpanned.
“Hey, no need for that tone,” Jared said with a smirk after blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face. This hair tie was on its last leg. “Besides, I seem to recall you choosing here as something to consider in the first place.”
“And I seem to recall you choosing to come on a Sunday,” Jensen shot back.
“It just worked out that way,” Jared shrugged. He scooted a table leg further out of the way with his foot. “It wasn’t necessarily intentional.”
“We could have been here Friday if you would’ve taken your parents up on their offer,” Jensen muttered, turning around to face the pale yellow walls of their kitchen.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Jared half-laughed, pushing himself up off the floor. “You were the one who insisted we do it this way. Said you wanted our life together to start off normal, with just us, me and you.”
“Yeah, well, normal people at least hire movers and buy furniture that’s already assembled. And, after we kicked out the movers, it would be just us left.” He started to pick up discarded pieces of Styrofoam and plastic, shoving it all haphazardly in leftover boxes, the Styrofoam squeaking and grating along the cardboard sides. “Besides, who turns down their parents when they offer to pay for a moving company?”
Jared was still in a good mood and he couldn’t help the fake undignified gasp that left his mouth. “I knew it. You’re marrying me for my money.”
“Jared, please,” Jensen begged, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, okay,” Jared placated. His smile softened around the edges. “But you know my family, Jen. If I would’ve taken them up on the help, Mom would still be here and she wouldn’t leave for another week. She’d be too busy picking out our curtains for us and micromanaging where we set the furniture. And Dad would already have planned thirty-four renovations, and we wouldn’t get any time for just us before we had to go back to work, back to reality.”
“You do know we have to let them visit at some point, right? Your mom, your dad, your brother, Chris, Tom, Danneel, and Gen. Fucking Chad. And, hell, Megan already said she has dibs on first stay in our guest room. Don’t even get me started on my own family.”
“Exactly. They’re going to swarm us at some point and that point will, no doubt, be soon.” With three long strides, he closed the gap between them, arms reaching and pulling and tightening around Jensen’s waist. “Forgive me for being a little selfish with you.”
“Okay, but,” Jensen started, letting Jared nuzzle in nose-close, “movers.”
“And miss out on all this?” Jared said, stepping back so they could both look at the assorted mess of boxes, suitcases, and strewn tools that were, somehow, supposed to come together to make their home. “But this is where all the fun is at! The real test of a relationship isn’t seeing if they kill one another playing Super Smash Bros. but to see if they kill one another while trying to build a dresser. We’ve survived one of those, it’s time to put us to the real test.”
“If this is your idea of fun, we need to have a talk. We’re not even going to have electricity until tomorrow, and that’s a maybe. It might not even get turned on until Tuesday,” Jensen said.
“I found some tea light candles in a drawer by the stove,” Jared mumbled against Jensen’s temple, lips brushing at his hairline. “We can try to make due with those for the night.”
“What about sleeping?” Jensen continued. “The bed frame is still in its box and the mattress –”
“We’ll pull out all of the blankets and pillows and make a little nest wherever we want tonight,” Jared interrupted, pointing a finger at a series of boxes written on in Jensen’s perfect handwriting. With a mischievous grin, he let his fingers wander to dance up under the hem of Jensen’s tee, pressing in tight at the line of slim hips. Maybe his fingerprints would get stuck there. “That’s if we do any sleeping at all.”
He felt before he saw the give, felt it in the way Jensen didn’t push away, just allowed his spine to conform to the shape of Jared. “We don’t have any hot water….” he trailed, hand atop Jared’s, pushing it closer.
“I’ve had my fair share of cold showers,” Jared laughed. “Remember when I was fifteen? You came home from college for the summer and I was just figuring out all the things my dick was good for. Trust me, I took a cold shower at least once every day you were home, sometimes twice.”
He pressed his face against the bared expanse of Jensen’s neck, nosing behind his ear before kissing and biting and licking just where that perfectly cut jaw began, but Jensen was rigid against him, hand loose before pushing Jared’s wandering ones away.
“Hey,” Jared started, turning Jensen around to face him, fingers, still warmed from Jensen’s skin under his shirt, lifting his chin. “Why are you so put out about all of this?”
Teeth pulled at a full bottom lip, worrying it to a point that Jared was concerned for its well-being as well as concerned for the look of frustration and sadness in Jensen’s eyes. “You can tell me anything,” he reassured Jensen quietly.
“We’ve been planning this for almost a year, every detail from saving up for the down payment to the house hunting itself to the entirety of the move and nothing has gone right. This isn’t how I wanted this, wanted our lives together, to start.”
Jared looked at him then, so tenderly, watching as reserved walls, even the minuscule ones he put up around Jared sometimes, fell down, watching as his Jensen cracked open his ribs to hand Jared his heart.
“What are you talking about?” Jared asked, but he gave in after Jensen shot him a look. “So things haven’t gone totally as planned, I get it. But the most important things did! All of our stuff is here, the house is everything we wanted it to be, and,” he trailed, “I’ve got you, you’ve got me. That’s the most important thing of all.”
“You’re fucking corny,” Jensen said, but he was smiling now, the one that made his eyes crinkle up at the corners.
“Speaking of corn, I’m hungry,” Jared announced and his stomach growled as if happy to be finally acknowledged.
“Well, if you would’ve been listening,” Jensen started, pressing a quick kiss to the dip of Jared’s throat, “you would know that there’s nothing open on Sundays.”
“We could drive into town,” Jared suggested.
“You really want to drive for another hour and a half tonight? After our sixteen-hour trip here over the last two days?” Jensen asked, unbelievingly. “Be my guest. But I’m going to eat this sleeve of Saltines I found under the seat in the car and this half-eaten bag of jerky from the console.”
“So dinner’s going to be quick,” Jared said after a moment, lips pursed. His hands wandered again, this time inching down and down to grip tight at Jensen’s ass, grinding them together just enough to make Jensen groan. “Guess we’ll have to find other ways to occupy our time tonight.”
“Is that all you can think about?” Jensen’s actions betrayed his words though, his teeth scraping at the neckline of Jared’s shirt, his heart thumping faster in his chest, his dick hardening against Jared’s own.
“Are you kidding me? We’re in a house that isn’t right next door to Chris, a house that Chad doesn’t have an illegal key made to, a house that’s not an apartment and we don’t have to worry about the neighbors calling the cops because they’re homophobic assholes. You’re lucky I’ve waited this long,” he laughed.
“Like we ever let any of that stop us,” Jensen grinned against his skin.
Jared opened his mouth to respond with something dirty and secretive in Jensen’s ear when a knock on their door made them jump. They shared a look of panic, one that lasted too long before Jensen quietly asked, “Already?”
“They wouldn’t,” Jared started. “No, they wouldn’t. Not now.”
“If it’s them, I swear…” Jensen trailed, pushing away from Jared’s chest and walking towards the door.
“If it’s them, they better have brought food,” Jared chimed in, smiling despite himself.
When the door opened, however, they were both taken aback at the older woman standing in their threshold, an aluminum foil-covered casserole dish in her oven-mitted hands. She was smiling and small in comparison to them, and her voice, when she spoke, was so perpetually grandmotherly.
“Hello,” she began, “I’m sorry to intrude. It’s getting late, but I hoped to catch you before you settled down for the night. Welcome!”
“Thank you so much,” Jared said after a moment, voice sincere and smile full of charm. “Please, come in! We would offer you a seat, but….” he trailed sheepishly, eyes briefly darting over the mess that was their house.
“No, I only came to bring food, I’ll take up more of your time on a more convenient day.” She held her arms out and Jared gingerly took it from her hands, smiling all dimples when she said, “Be careful, it’s hot, dear!”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen apologized suddenly. “I’m Jensen and this is --”
“His fiancé, Jared,” Jared said, saving the hesitancy for another time. He placed the casserole dish on the box by the front door.
“Oh yes, I know,” she replied, smile never wavering. “My husband is who you bought this house from. We were so excited to know a young couple was moving in. You’ll bring some much needed life to these quiet parts.”
“It’s a beautiful area, Mrs. Wallach,” Jensen agreed. “We owe your husband immensely for introducing us to this place.”
“The pleasure is all ours, dear.” There was a pause in which she seemed to take both of them in, eyes twinkling behind bifocal frames. “Can I say what a handsome couple you two make? You’re engaged, yes?”
“Thank you,” Jared grinned, arm tightening around Jensen’s shoulders. “And we are. Just a few months away from the big day.”
“A new home and a wedding, how exciting! The future suits you both well.”
“We hope so,” Jensen said as he leaned into Jared. His thumb was twirling the silver band on his left hand and Jared noticed, his smile softening.
“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help as you settle in,” Mrs. Wallach started. “As I know the place takes some adjustment, especially as you’re moving from the city, we’d be honored if you’d join us for breakfast in the morning. I’m making the works, biscuits and gravy and sausage, and there will be plenty of coffee to go around.”
“You’ve got him sold,” Jared laughed as Jensen perked up at the mention of coffee. “That’s so kind of you, Mrs. Wallach. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d love to stop by.”
“No trouble at all. And I’ll make an extra pot of coffee just for you, dear,” she smiled.
“Thank you, again,” Jensen started, only to be cut off once more.
“No trouble whatsoever,” she repeated. “I’ll see you for breakfast then.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Wallach,” they both chimed as she turned to retreat with that same twinkle in her eye.
“Hey, Jared?” Jensen said quietly, stepping back so they could close the door.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m going to like it here.”
Jared grinned, hand still on the doorknob when he leaned in, pressing Jensen up against the chipped paint, pressing himself closer so he could capture Jensen’s lips. “Me too.”
IDK why this heart and that heart look different - it was the only heart I saw! This is a question that’s nearly impossible for me to answer because good characterization is the way to my heart in any piece of fiction. I don’t care much about plot (I mean, I want a plausible one, but that’s about it) or action, just about whether the characters read as believable, fully-realized versions of themselves whether that’s through the writing or the person playing them. So, off the top of my head, completely randomly and with the understanding that I could just as easily pick 50 others:
- Stu Redman- Pauline Fossil
🎂 How old are you
Ever so much more than twenty. (Hey, there’s another fictional character I love.)
I am thirty-three.
🌐 Languages you can speak and/or are learning. Which are you fluent in
English and English. I took four years of French between high school and college and was nearly laughed out of the country when I visited. I’ve heard good things about Duolingo, though, so perhaps I ought to try it.
Eight words accompanied by a handshake and a smile was all it took for Jared Padalecki to be a goner.
He had been a nervous mess right before, arriving an hour early with jittery hands and bouncing legs, his script scrunched and wrinkled from his fingers gripping it too tightly, and he talked a million miles a minute to the receptionist, a young girl with an amused smile. There wasn’t a single thing Jared would later recall about the room she told him he could wait in except for the fluorescent light fixtures that hummed in his ears. Nothing else was memorable, not when he was hunched over in a too-small chair and nearly giving himself a black eye with his jumping knee. In fact, he didn’t even look up from the fray at the end of his shoelace until the door handle twitched to life, breaking the drowning hum of the lights and the repetition of Sam Winchester’s first monolog in his head. And when he did finally look up, it was as though his feet had a mind of their own and he stood, colt-legs knocking and words sputtering off of his tongue, immediately telling too much and nothing of importance all at once.
Jensen Ackles looked sure. He closed the door behind him with the same soft click it had opened with and looked at Jared. Texas fields. It was then Jared began to analyze, during that first breath-catching moment; he analyzed the way Jensen’s gaze darted just over Jared’s shoulder, giving the appearance of eye-contact but not keeping it, the way his chest was held high and tight, the way his skin itself was trembling, all betraying who he was trying to be.
It wasn’t uncommon for Jared to fall quickly. He had always been that way, ask his momma. Whether it be friends, love, life itself, he was quick to fall and, in this instant, there wasn’t a soul who could or would blame him, hold him at fault, for wanting to know everything about Jensen Ackles. In those first ten seconds of looking at him, Jared knew nothing would make him happier than knowing what Jensen’s laugh sounded like and knowing how he could make him laugh again. Nothing would make him happier than knowing if the freckles on Jensen’s nose matched the ones disappearing under his shirt, at his fingertips, at everywhere else. Nothing would make him happier than knowing if Jensen watched football and if he wanted to grab a beer sometime. Jared was twenty-one now.
Between all the staring and the heart-racing, Jared must have introduced himself or said something of some relation because Jensen smiled -- Jared noted his teeth were perfect and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Just perfect -- and reached out with a piano-hand to grasp Jared’s outstretched one. He was sure Jensen could feel the palpitations of his pulse at the jut of his wrist.
And then Jensen spoke. Eight words accompanied by a handshake, smile still in place.
for two years in a row now, I’ve been lucky enough to be able to tell Jensen happy birthday in person and this year was an absolute dream ❤
Jensen was so incredibly wonderful this con -- not that he isn’t always, but there was an ease about him this con, or maybe an ease about me, that made this convention so good. His performances on Saturday night were goosebump worthy (three songs!!!!) and all of Sunday he was wonderful
I didn’t go gold this year so I first saw Jensen at his photo-ops at 10:45 Sunday morning. I had Jared’s m&g so I had to stand with some of the first people in line. Jensen walked in after a few minutes, sat his coffee down, and waved and grinned as everyone cheered. I watched him take four or five pictures with people, saying hi and being so kind to each person, doing poses with practiced skill. I watched as a woman in a wheelchair came up and wanted to stand in her picture with him so he helped her up so gently and held her tight before assisting her as she sat down and thanked her so much for coming. After the first four or five pictures he asked Chris (the photographer) to turn off the music and he walked over, standing right by me, and said, “Guys, I just want to apologize. Jared doused me in his cologne right before this because that’s the Jared we’re dealing with today,” and then he looked at me and waved his hand to make the cologne go my way. Absolute menace, I’m telling you.
My picture came up and he smiled and said hi in this sweet, soft voice he has when he’s one-on-one with people and I asked him if I could just hug him and he said, “Absolutely, sweetheart,” and pulled me in and I just melted getting to hug that soft and beautiful boy ;;;;;;;;;;
I love his smile so much and I got to see it many times this con and I’m so grateful for that
I told him thank you and he smiled real big and told me, “No, thank you” and then I let him get on with his photos
Autographs are a whole different story, but just as wonderful and just as important as the man who made every little moment something so memorable
I wish I could do more for him on his birthday, but I don’t know how or what, so all I can say is that I hope he has the most wonderful day ❤ he deserves it and so much more and each day I grow more and more thankful for him and the person he is and what he’s done for me and this fandom and the people around him. we are so lucky to have him as we do
Some mornings could only be described as perfect, and the next morning was just that.
Jared woke up, eyes groggy but well-rested, to see Jensen just centimeters from his face. They were still in the same position they had fallen asleep in, noses brushing, hands intertwined, and legs raveled in a mess of sheets. Moving his head back just far enough so he didn’t have to look cross-eyed, Jared took in the picture in front of him, an impossible-to-stop smile slowly taking over his face. Jensen was still asleep, cobweb eyelashes fanned on the apples of his cheeks. The window in their bedroom faced the east where the sun rose and it casted that blushing mix of orange, pink, and pale yellow light on everything, including the natural gold hidden in Jensen’s ever-darkening hair and the constellations of cinnamon freckles all over his body. He looked like a dream come true and Jared supposed that, in a way, he was.
Gently untangling their hands, Jared did the best he could to slip out of bed unnoticed. His legs were stiff for the first few steps, but they slowly loosened as he made it to the kitchen. The coffee pot sat on a DIY coffee bar Jared had made Jensen for his birthday, the first one he had celebrated in L.A. The coffee bar was modest, an old nightstand that Jared refurbished, stained, and topped with a slab of granite countertop. It was simple, sure, but Jensen loved it and he had used it as inspiration for Jared’s birthday just a few months later, fixing up an entertainment center for their television and video games.
Changing out the coffee filters, Jared got a fresh pot brewing. The aroma was almost instantly in the air and even Jared, the non-coffee-addicted one, couldn’t stop himself from inhaling with a happy sigh. The cabinet to the right of the stove had all the cups and Jared reached up, plucking two plain white mugs from the shelf inside. As he went to go back to the coffee bar, though, his eye caught sight of two shiny wrappers snug in a corner of the counter. He walked, bare feet padding quietly on the faux wood floor, and picked them up. They were the fortune cookies forgotten from last night, and Jared grinned.
The coffee pot beeped a few minutes later, signifying its completion, and Jared poured the steaming liquid in the two cups. He set Jensen’s aside so he could grab the sugar and creamer. It wasn’t coffee, not to Jared anyway, unless there were three spoonfuls of sugar and a hefty amount of hazelnut coffee creamer. He carried the mugs back to the bedroom, one in each hand and the cookies in the crook of his elbow.
Jensen was still asleep, but his body had moved, now angled toward the warmth Jared had left behind. Once again, Jared found himself smiling uncontrollably. It was easy to maneuver to Jensen’s nightstand and set the coffee cups on it with a soft clunk. Only a second passed before Jensen began to shift, his senses immediately awakening to the smell of coffee. Jared stood back and watched. He knew Jensen’s wake-up routine so well, yet it never ceased to be one of his favorite parts of the day. Just like Jensen was doing right now, he would flip from his stomach to his back, the pillow he’d been hugging coming precariously close to falling off the edge of the bed. He’d then stretch out both arms, sometimes smacking Jared in the face if Jared was still asleep, then allow his right arm to fall across his eyes. There’d be a few grunts and groans that followed, sometimes some incoherent mumbling, before he’d finally start to blink the sleep away. The next part was Jared’s favorite though because Jensen would sit up, lips in a pout that made him look five-years-old. His hair would be in a disheveled array of tufts and, at this point, he’d usually stumble into the kitchen, a whine for coffee clawing its way from his throat like a dog whining for a treat. Right now, Jensen’s eyes found Jared standing above him and he squinted sleepily up at him before that whine occurred. Jared couldn’t not laugh; Jensen was absolutely pitiful in the morning.
“Your coffee’s right there, babe,” Jared said. He spoke slowly and even pointed at the white cup. It was like dealing with a child. Jensen turned his head and caught sight of the steaming black liquid.
If Jared had to be jealous of anything, it was coffee. He’d never seen Jensen look at anyone or anything so heated or heard him moan so appreciatively – okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but his love of the drink was concerning. As Jensen took his first sip, he moaned just as pornographically as expected and Jared cocked an eyebrow, smile still firmly in place, before he grabbed his own cup and sat on the edge of the bed, right by Jensen’s side. It was silent, just like most mornings. Jensen didn't talk before he’d had at least one full cup and Jared enjoyed their peace.
Jared gulped his own drink, his eyes never leaving Jensen. Jensen was vulnerable in the morning in a way he almost never allowed himself to be at any other time. He watched as Jensen’s fingers curled around the mug, digits overlapping to savor the warmth seeping into his palms. When the coffee was about halfway gone, Jared saw the line of Jensen’s shoulders visibly relax. “Morning,” Jared said, now having the other’s conscious attention, and Jensen smiled softly in return. Leaning forward, Jared pressed a coffee-warmed kiss to Jensen’s temple.
It was only a few minutes later that the mug was empty and Jensen looked at Jared and breathed, “Thank you.”
“Well, I know you’re useless without caffeine in your system and I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed if we’re going to discuss the future.” He wiggled his fingers almost spirit finger-like and spoke the last two words dramatically, like a narrator of a movie trailer. Jensen just stared.
“Two things I’ll never be is bright-eyed or bushy-tailed and it’s too early for whatever-the-hell you already have planned,” Jensen grumbled, the peace of their morning already a thing of the past. He threw his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up, moving toward the kitchen for more coffee. Jared followed with an amused sigh and Jensen was already at the coffee bar, sleep pants too low on his hips and a second cup of coffee being poured. “Now what’s this about the future?” Jensen asked with a deadpan.
Jared grinned, dimples out, as he held the two fortune cookies between his thumb and pointer finger. “I found these while I was making coffee earlier.” Jensen merely sipped his drink and leaned against the coffee bar, body held up by his hand resting on the surface of it.
“How do I know that the one you’re going to give me is really my fortune? How do I know you didn’t mix them up?”
“You’re going to open it and you’re going to like it,” Jared demanded with a laugh, tossing one of the plastic-wrapped words of wisdom to Jensen. Jensen caught it, barely, and opened the crinkling wrapper the same as Jared. “On the count of three we’ll crack ‘em open.”
“Is this necessary?” Jensen asked rhetorically and Jared ignored him.
“One, two, three!” Just a second later they were both pulling out the slim strips of paper and bringing them to their eyes. Jensen was squinting, his glasses still in the bedroom, and Jared smiled as he read his own. “Mine says, ‘Success lies in the hands of those who want it.’ I like it.” He really liked it, actually.
Jensen, however, smirked and cleared his throat before speaking. “Well mine says, ‘A man with blue eyes has a surprise for you,’ so if you really want to take them to heart…”
“What? Give me that.” Jared moved forward and took the paper from Jensen’s hand, reading over it quickly, mouth moving with the words. “Holy shit, it really does.” There was a pause. “Well, your fortune is stupid. Blue eyes,” he scoffed.
“Oh, so mine is stupid, but yours isn’t?” had come with Jensen’s first real smile of the morning.
“No, mine is positive and encouraging and all ‘this is your fate,’” Jared said, moving back to where he had been standing. “Yours just sounds dumb. You got a defective fortune cookie.”
“I think you’re jealous,” Jensen responded, eyes twinkling with the tease.
“Yeah, a little,” Jared laughed.
“Lucky for you,” Jensen started, setting his coffee cup down so he could push himself from the coffee bar and make his way over to where Jared stood, “I’ve never really been a blue-eyed kind of guy.”
“Oh yeah?” Jared smiled wider. If he smiled any bigger his cheeks were going to crack and that became a serious concern when Jensen wrapped his hands around Jared’s slim hips, holding Jared just as reverently as he held his coffee earlier, and shoved Jared against the counter’s edge.
His answer to Jared’s question was the way his lips found the edge of Jared’s jaw and his body tucked against Jared’s so they were touching everywhere. With a soft groan Jared allowed his head to fall all the way back, exposing the tanned and long column of his throat. Having his neck bared let Jensen nudge Jared’s chin with the top of his head as he mouthed at the hollow right where Jared’s chest began. Already feeling weak in his knees, Jared moved his hands to the counter’s surface, fingers white-knuckled and eyelashes fluttering. Jensen moved to the junction of Jared’s neck and shoulder, worrying the skin there with his teeth and soothing it with a flick of his tongue and a soft press of his lips. All of the sensations made Jared hiss.
“Jensen,” he managed to choke out. One big hand moved up to bury itself in the soft hair at Jensen’s nape, holding him in place. He could feel Jensen’s smile against his taut skin before those teeth, devilish in their task, nipped at the bottom of his chin. There was no stopping the gasp that he would later deny when Jensen found his collarbone after licking down his throat. The skin there was paper-thin and Jared felt everything as those lips feathered across it before sucking and causing blood to rise to the surface. “Jensen, Jensen,” he choked out again, but this time he was pushing away that wandering mouth.
“Wha’?” Jensen breathed after he detached himself. Those lips, which had just been pressed all over Jared, were red, swollen, and parted so slightly. Jared could see with the way Jensen’s own chest was moving up and down that he was just as worked up as Jared already and that made him have to use every ounce of his willpower to suppress another groan.
“I need you to stop,” he said, long fingers wrapping around Jensen’s wrists.
“Why?”
“Because I’m calling Mark Pellegrino today and if he wants the meeting anytime this week, I don’t want to go in covered in hickeys.” Jared tried to keep his tone light, but there was a seriousness in the air the very second the sentence left his mouth. He was rubbing gentle circles on the soft skin inside Jensen’s wrists, but he didn’t miss the familiar sight of the tick in Jensen’s jaw before a mask, one Jared thought he’d seen more and more of as of late, fell into place over Jensen’s beautiful face. “Don’t be like that,” Jared begged the moment he saw it. Using his height as an advantage, he twisted Jensen around, switching their positions so Jensen was the one pressed against the counter. “Once I get a good role and I’m not auditioning all the time, you can do whatever you want to me and I’ll have an entire makeup department to cover-up your dirty work.” He ducked his head down, mouth finding the lobe of Jensen’s ear as he whispered, “But right now you’re the only one allowed to get marked all to hell.”
“Nope,” Jensen immediately protested. This time it was his hands that found Jared, pushing him away and moving from the counter. “If I can’t, you can’t.”
“Are you serious?” Jared asked, flabbergasted.
“Yep,” was Jensen’s flippant reply and he started back for the bedroom. “I’m going to shower.”
Jared tried to call after him, but the door slammed, cutting him off.
Some mornings could only be described as perfect; others could be described as almost perfect and maybe that was a better summarization.
Jared had made the right call though. True to what he had said earlier, he really did call Mark Pellegrino. Jensen had gotten ready and left for work without so much as one word, slipping out the door while Jared was in the shower, and Jared had driven to work chewing on the inside of his cheek. He had meant to call Mark on his first break, but he spent the time pacing the back door stoop instead. When lunchtime rolled around he had been talking to one of his co-workers, Andy, rambling and using his hands too much as he talked.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to be calling this new agent -- well, possible agent -- and I can’t get myself to do it.”
Andy was a struggling artist too and the look he gave Jared, a cigarette out the left corner of his mouth and a judgemental eyebrow raised, was a quick indication on how he felt about the whole thing. “You bitch and moan about your current agent and have the chance to get a new one, maybe one that doesn’t sit on her ass all day, and you’re not going to do anything about it? Might as well pack your bags and head back to Texas.” Andy was always cynical, but he had a point. With fifteen minutes left in his lunch break, Jared let out one last sigh, exhaling his nerves and the shakiness of voice, before copying the shiny black numbers on Mark Pellegrino’s card into his phone. It rang twice before it was picked up. The woman on the other end sounded practiced. “This is Mark Pellegrino’s office at United Agency. How can I help you?”
“Hi, um,” Jared started, free arm moving so he could tug at the collar of his uniformed white button-down shirt. “My name is Jared and –”
“Last name, please.”
“Right, right, I’m sorry. My name is Jared Padalecki. I met Mr. Pellegrino four days ago at an open-call audition. He gave me his card.”
“Yes, he was expecting your call.” Jared’s heart beat faster.
“He was?”
“Yes. Would you like to make an appointment to meet with him? Several things need to be discussed before any other steps can be taken.”
“That would be awesome! Amazing, actually.”
“Yes, it’s all very exciting.” There was a pause. “He has an opening on Thursday at 1:45 in the afternoon.”
Jared gnawed at his bottom lip. “I have work during that time. Does he have any later times available?”
“I can pencil you in for the twenty-second of May at 5:00.”
“May twenty-second?” Jared asked incredulously, the free hand that was earlier tugging at his collar now tangled in his hair. “That’s almost a month away.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Paladecki, but Mr. Pellegrino is a busy man.”
Jared could hear the woman’s patience wearing thin and he sighed, quietly and defeated, before he said, “This Thursday is perfect.”
“Wonderful. Would you like directions to our office?”
“No thank you. I-I know where it is.”
“We will see you Thursday at 1:45 then. Go to one of the girls on the main floor and they will assist you once you arrive. Have a nice day, Mr. Paladecki.”
It wasn’t hard to find someone to cover his shift for Thursday. It was hard to think of missing his paycheck for that day.
Nevertheless, three days later he was standing outside the United Agency building, one of the taller buildings in downtown Los Angeles. Jensen had helped him pick out his outfit, making their measly collection of clothes somehow work. He looked presentable at the very least with his khaki pants that Jensen made him buy last year, a white button-down that was suspiciously identical as the one he wore to work, a navy-blue blazer that Jensen cherished, and brown Brogues that would be going back to the store by the weekend. The accessories were minimal, consisting of only a watch, but the real accessory was the thing held in Jared’s sweating right palm and keeping him standing as he stared at the intimidating exterior of United’s main building.
Clutched tightly in his fingers was the thin-stripped fortune cookie from the other morning. Was it dumb to bring it? Most definitely. Did Jared care? Not really. Because this fragile piece of paper was an anchor, one that was keeping his emotions from bubbling over. This meeting could very well be the start of a big change in his life and he wasn’t about to let the one thing that had been replaying in his mind go. Words, even clichés, had a power far stronger than many realized.
Success lies in the hands of those who want it.
Jared was knocked out of his stupor by a rushed man bumping into him on the sidewalk (“Watch it, asshole!” the guy had screamed at Jared’s stagnant figure.) and it was honestly a blessing because one quick look at his watch let him know that he needed to get inside and figure out where exactly in this god-forsaken building were his dreams being held. With one last breath of the smoggy L.A. air, he strode in through the front doors of United with as much confidence as he could muster. “You’ve got this.”
Thirty seconds earlier, Jared would have told you that the experience that intimidated him the most was going to his first real audition. One step through United’s doors had him singing a much a different tune.
Everything shimmered. It wasn’t simply the charcoal gray floors, sleek and spotless and full of crystals ingrained in the granite slabs. It wasn’t simply the multitude of front desks, all painted red and polished and topped with the same material as the floor. It wasn’t simply the stone covered walls that made the acoustics amazing, alerting Jared that somewhere in the building was a waterfall or a fountain. It wasn’t simply the bright, movie-star lights lining the ceiling, shining off of the mirror-like surfaces all around. It wasn’t simply the receptionists sitting at each red desk, young, beautiful girls with identical high ponytails, sparkling earrings, red lips, shadowed eyes, and blinding smiles accompanied by honey-sweet voices. It wasn’t simply the music pumping from the speakers, the best and biggest hits of the day. It wasn’t simply the men and women in the highest of fashion, sauntering in and out of office doors and elevators. It was all of that combined and Jared shifted on his feet.
It required one more deep breath before Jared could force one foot to go in front of the other, but he was soon on a pathway to one of the open receptionists’ desks. The girl in the seat looked just like the others - bleached blonde hair, tan, flawless makeup and skin, and a smile so white Jared became too aware of his own, no doubt, coffee-stained ones.
She didn’t immediately look up when he approached and he waited a second before speaking. “Hi,” he finally said, forcing his best dimpled smile to fall in place as he shoved his hands in his pockets. The girl, Tracy according to the desk plaque, turned her brown eyes on him as well as her white teeth. Jared noticed a mole by the corner of her left eye though and it made him suppress a grin; at least something was distinct from the rest.
“Welcome to United! How can I help you?” she asked in a cotton-candy tone. It was overly practiced, almost robotic, and Jared felt his own smile falter for a split second.
“I’m Jared...Padalecki. I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Pellegrino today.”
“Yes, of course!” Tracy said, manicured fingers typing quickly on the keyboard. “One moment please!” She hopped out of her chair, four-inch beige heels clacking on the hard floor as she bounced to another desk to flip through a pile of black United Folders. Plucking one from the back of the pile she soon returned and shimmied into her chair. “His office is on the forty-sixth floor. Give this,” she said, sliding the folder across the granite into his awaiting hands, “to his receptionist, Alaina, and she will get you in to see him as soon as possible!”
Her attention immediately fell back to her computer screen the moment she finished speaking and Jared stood there, dazed, for just a minute before walking toward the elevators with wide-eyes. One elevator was just opening as he stepped up and as soon as it had cleared, he jumped on.
Jared wasn’t a fan of cramped spaces, if he were being completely honest, and a huge, suspended, metal box was infinitely worse than most crowded spaces. If he were to make a guess as to why they bothered him so much, he would say his height definitely played into it. It usually never bothered him, the stares and the constant “How tall are you?” questions, but when everyone was pressed in tight and most only came to your shoulders, it was hard not to feel like a giant, to feel a little out of place.
According to the buttons on the elevator, there were fifty-five floors total and there were around twenty or so people inside. Jared spent his time distracting himself by categorizing the people. By the time he got to the forty-sixth floor he had deduced this: there were three types of people in the elevator and they were the bosses, the workers, and wannabe-actors. The bosses were easy to find. They were the only ones that looked calm, standing with their heads tall and their outfits were undoubtedly nicer. He was sure he mixed up a few of the workers and actors, but he knew he had most of them right. The workers were the assistants, carrying large stacks of papers and carriers full of coffees. The actors were exactly like him. They were fiddling with the hems of their shirts or dresses, exuding nervousness and eyeing some of the assistants’ coffees with too much interest.
Jared was so caught up in people-watching that he almost missed his floor. The door chimed and opened for what had to be the dozenth time and Jared found himself getting ready to watch whoever walked out. When no one moved and the doors began to slide closed, Jared’s eyes flicked up to stare at the red number indicating the floor and he let out a little sound of surprise, hand jutting out to stop the doors from closing all the way.
“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. It was then that he also realized that there had only been one other person left on the elevator with him. Jared only caught a glimpse of the man as the doors were shutting, but that one glimpse was enough. It was enough to notice the impeccable state of the navy blue, three-piece suit the man was wearing, the distinguished look his graying hair gave him, and the power he held that was silently spoken by his steel eyes hidden behind black frames. There wasn’t time to dwell on the unreadable man though. Jared was on the forty-sixth floor.
The desk up here was identical to the ones forty-five floors below, but the woman was different. Fiery red hair fell in lava-like rivers, framing her face and making her teal eyes pop. The black lining her eyes was followed by the blend of glittering browns and her lips were as red as her hair. Tracy had said her name was Alaina and, like Tracy, her nails were manicured, sharp and decorated, but something about her made him shiver.
“Can I help you?” her voice cut sharply. She never looked up from computer, her bright eyes trained straight ahead, and Jared couldn’t really be blamed when he stuttered.
“Uhh, yes. My name is Jared Pada –”
“I need your file. Take a seat and Mr. Pellegrino will be with you shortly.” She gestured to a small gathering of armchairs, the same hand coming forward to grab the black folder from his hands. It wasn’t hard to gather that this was the woman he had talked to on the phone earlier in the week; she had a penchant for cutting him off.
The chairs she had pointed to were low and when Jared sat, his knees were nearly at his own eye-level. That was only made even more awkward by the fact that his right leg couldn’t stop bouncing up and down. Jared had always been one of those kids that never stopped moving, especially when nervous or excited. Jensen had actually been the first person to point it out to him. They had been eleven-years-old and in the same sixth grade class. It was a test day (maybe science -- they had just started learning about volcanoes) and Jared had taken his seat next to Jensen. Immediately his right leg had started to bounce, his jeans swishing, the noise only amplified by the tapping of his heel against the cheap linoleum floor.
“Dude,” Jensen had whispered, “stop moving.”
“What?” Jared had asked. He hadn’t been paying attention, too busy reading over his messily scrawled notes which mostly consisted of doodles of stars and his own name in fancy swirls.
“Your leg. It always does that before we have a test. It’s not that bad,” Jensen had smiled just slightly.
“No, it doesn’t,” Jared had protested.
“Yes, it does!”
“No, it doesn’t!”
“Yes, it does! I think I would know, Jay. You do it whenever you’re nervous. You do it before tests, before your dumb plays, and even before those nerdy mathlete competitions you do.”
After that, Jared had always been self-aware of his bouncing legs, tapping fingers, and twitching jaw. It had only worsened when he hit puberty and his legs were suddenly the longest, most uncontrollable (well, second most uncontrollable) part of his body.
“Jared!” a voice let out suddenly and enthusiastically. Jared’s head jolted up to find none other than Mark Pellegrino standing a few feet in front of him.
Mark was about Jensen’s height, maybe a hair shorter, and narrow, both in his shoulders and waist. He eyes were a little too close together and his dark blond hair was styled messily. Jared stood up quickly, hands smoothing at his pants and shirt before he reached out to shake Mark’s own awaiting hands.
“Mr. Pellegrino,” Jared started and he was internally proud of how strong his voice had sounded.
“Please, call me Mark. Mr. Pellegrino is too formal, especially for such a celebration as this.” Mark, too, had a blindingly white smile, one that was only outshone by his diamond studded cufflinks.
“I haven’t signed anything yet,” Jared joked nervously, following the man into his office. Once inside, however, every joke, every word he may have had on the tip of his tongue, vanished.
When looking up information on Los Angeles, especially if one is looking up anything about moving to Los Angeles, every place promises that “L.A. view.” They promise the view where one can see the entire city dancing below, the view where the lights shine so bright and utterly surround you, making one feel like, while they’re there, they’re as big as the universe; that they’re unstoppable and they’ve finally made it to the top of the world. The view from Jensen and Jared’s apartment was anything but the coveted L.A. view and that, sadly, was the fate of most. But right now, Jared was getting that view and it felt just as good as he always thought it would.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
Jared tore his gaze away from the bay window to look at Mark who was standing just behind him, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his gray suit pants. His suit was a tad more casual than the mysterious man Jared had seen on the elevator, but the material and quality of it all was more than enough of a hint that it had to cost more than every item in Jared’s closet combined.
“It is,” Jared breathed, eyes going back to the window.
“Take a seat,” Mark said after a beat of silence, gesturing to one of the two large cushioned chairs in front of his mahogany desk. They were gray, much like the rest of the building, and just like the floors, there were sparkles shimmering throughout the fabric. Jared fell into one of them and it almost felt too soft, too comfortable, for how much his stomach was currently in knots. “So,” Mark began as he moved behind his desk, continuing to stand. He fixed Jared with an intense gaze. “I was surprised you called.”
“Really?” Jared asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“Absolutely! I was sure your manager would’ve kept a tighter leash on you. Managers are always pretty good at keeping their most talented as close to them as possible,” Mark said.
“I haven’t exactly told her about this yet. Any of this,” Jared admitted sheepishly.
“What?” Mark asked, sounding utterly flabbergasted. “Why not?”
Jared could feel the words there, begging to come out, to confess every ounce of nervousness, fear, and even guilt about abandoning his agent, all ready to spill out.
Mark watched as Jared shifted nervously and he quirked an eyebrow. “It’s totally normal to feel nervous. Hell, it’s totally normal to even feel downright scared about all this. But that’s why I’m here, Jared. I’m here to deal with all the scary, technical stuff and to make this as easy for you as possible so you can grace Los Angeles, so you can grace the entire world, with the talent I saw in you.”
“Mark,” Jared breathed, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or stupid even.” He stopped for a second, eyes finding a spot on the floor. “But there’s so much talent out there. I mean,” he laughed, the sound lacking humor, “it’s Hollywood! Why me?”
“Starting with the easy questions, aren’t you?” Mark grinned. “You’re right, Jared, there’s a lot of talent out here in Hollywood. Believe me, I’ve seen it. But as a talent manager, my job is to find the best and to find someone that I can market to the rest of the world. You’ve got all of that!” Mark sat down in his black leather chair. “I go to those mass auditions all the time, hoping to find someone that stands out from the rest. It’s been a long time since I’ve found anyone too. But I watched your audition and you blew me away in less than three minutes. That is talent, my friend.”
Jared was certain he gaped for several seconds, mouth opening and closing on its own accord, like a fish out of water, which is what he’d felt like since he walked in. No set of words did enough justice for the feelings and thoughts that were running in his mind and Jared was suddenly caught wondering, ever so briefly, if this was the feeling Jensen explained to him once. The feeling of hesitation, of not knowing what to say, of not having the confidence to say it.
“Now,” Mark said, drawing Jared out of his dazed reverie and back into reality, “what else do you have to ask me? I’m here and I’ve got all the answers.” Sliding his chair forward, Mark rested his clasped hands on the desk and looked at Jared square-on. There was a confident grin on his face.
Jared swallowed hard before finding his voice. “I have so many questions,” he admitted, “and I doubt you want to answer them all or can even answer them all right now.”
“But…?” Mark prompted, leaning back in his chair.
“But I guess the biggest question I want, I need answered, is if doing this, coming to United, will get me what I want.” The moment the words left Jared’s mouth he felt stupid, but Mark only grinned wider, the smile starting slow before he leaned across the desk as if he was going to tell Jared a secret.
“If you were anywhere else and they told you they could get you what you want, I’d tell you they were lying. But you’re here. United is the one agency that can guarantee that, Jared. Why do you think we’re so sought out? We’ve got the best connections, the best reputation, out there.”
“I know,” Jared said, feeling at least one knot in his stomach loosen. “That’s why I still can’t believe you want me here.”
“Well, I do. And everyone else will too once you get your first gig. And,” Mark announced as he swiveled in his chair toward his computer screen, “that’s what we need to talk about right now.” With a few clicks of the mouse, he pulled up several files on his computer and tilted the screen in Jared’s direction, allowing him to see the five separate windows. “See these? These are all auditions I’m going to get you to. If you want them, that is.”
Jared’s eyes roamed over the files. All five were for movie roles. One was from a director Jared had never heard of and two were from directors he had heard of, but was indifferent of their work. The remaining ones, however, were names Jared recognized right off the bat.
“Dennis Dugan and Robert Benton?” he asked incredulously, eyes unable to move from the screen. Robert Benton hadn’t directed anything in some time, but he did write the screenplay for the original Superman movie and directed a movie starring Anthony Hopkins. Dennis Dugan was a comedy director, famous for works like Happy Gilmore and that new Grown Ups series.
“That’s correct. And Benton is a Texas man like yourself. That could win you some bonus points,” Mark winked.
“And you can seriously get me all these auditions?”
“It’s only a matter of getting a reel put together of your past works, getting a new headshot and resume, and sending all that to the casting directors. From there they’ll choose who gets an audition time, who doesn’t, but I’m not worried about any of that. Once they see your tape and see United’s stamp on your papers, there won’t be any issues. These people know United only sends the best,” Mark explained.
Jared let all the information sink in, though most of it was old news, before speaking again. “So...if I get these auditions, I just go in and audition like normal?”
“That’s right, kiddo. It’s as easy as one, two, three, and made even easier by me.”
Jared turned his attention back to the screen. It all sounded too easy, too straightforward, and yet Jared knew that it all made sense.
“Now, here’s the deal, Jared,” Mark began slowly, garnering Jared’s attention after a moment. “You don’t have to sign a damn thing right now. I don’t need any money from, I don’t need any commitment. Not yet. All I need is your resume and headshot which,” he flourished Jared’s file, “is right here. And, most importantly, I need you to be serious about this. If you’re serious, there’s no way this won’t end up very good for you.”
“What about Marlene, my current manager? Aren’t there going to be any issues with that?”
“Well, that’s part of why we’re not doing any paperwork quite yet. You see, Jared, if you don’t sign anything, there’s no money being made by me or the rest of the agency. It’s extra security for you too if you either decide that United just isn’t for you or if - and this won’t happen - you don’t get any of the roles and want to stay with your current manager. No paper-trail means that we can wait until you’re ready.” He paused. “Things will only begin to change if you get any of the roles and decide to take them. Because then you’ll have to sign on with us to keep that part. But if you’re serious --”
“I am serious, Mark,” Jared interrupted, feeling the second knot in his stomach loosen. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I want this more than anything.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear!” Mark exclaimed, quickly moving from behind his desk to where Jared was to clap him roughly on the shoulder. Maneuvering so he was behind the chair, Mark leaned over, his face next to Jared’s own. With his right hand he gestured at the bay window, both their eyes scanning the tops of the buildings, the busy streets, and the Santa Monica Mountains at the edge of the horizon. “My gut is telling me you’re the best. And only the best can live high and mighty here.”
“Bet you say this to everyone,” Jared half-joked.
“Jared,” Mark started and he sounded serious, “I know you could be one of the greats. I really do. I wouldn’t have found you, wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I didn’t think you were. And if you go to these auditions and prove that to me and to everyone else, we’ll be on the right road to success.”
After that they set up a day next week for Jared to come in and go over the scripts.
“Don’t worry about the reel of your works, we have people here who can put that together. You just rest up and be back in here next Friday. I should have all the scripts by then and we’ll read through them, let you get a feel for your possible characters and their lines. I really want to drill into the Benton one though. I have a feeling that one’s going to be your lucky one,” Mark announced as he walked Jared out to the elevator.
“Absolutely.” Jared stuck out one hand and Mark grasped it firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Pellegrino. I can’t even begin to tell you –”
“Just wait until you’re on your first big movie set. Then you’ll really be speechless!” Mark laughed. The elevator chimed and opened smoothly and Jared threw one last smile at Mark.
“I’ll be here Friday,” he said, taking a step into the elevator and pressing the button for the ground floor.
“That’s what I like to hear!” came Mark’s exclamation just as the doors slid shut, causing his glistening smile to disappear. The moment it did, Jared slumped against the back wall. That wasn’t the brightest idea though because just a moment later, the doors slid back open and six people got on. Jared straightened himself as quickly as possible, but the grin threatening to break his face was maybe a bit manic. He didn’t care though.
As he strode out the front doors, waving a goodbye to Tracy, he almost pumped his fist in celebration. He just got his foot in the door. No, he went beyond just getting his foot in the door. He just busted through the ceiling and he couldn’t be happier. Most of all, he couldn’t wait to tell Jensen.
*
“Two large coffees with no room, two soy lattes, a non-fat soy latte with caramel, a triple shot no foam latte, and an iced skinny macchiato with sugar-free syrup, an extra shot, light ice, and no whipped cream,” Jensen called out. The seven drinks were in two drink carriers and he handed them to the frazzled looking girl who had to be an intern. Her hair was frizzy, glasses skewed like Jensen’s got sometimes, and she had those permanent lines of worry by her mouth. Jensen smiled sympathetically at her.
As she trudged out the door, hands full, Jensen was relieved to see that, for now, the rush was over. A few stragglers came in, but they didn’t worry Jensen. One thing he’d learned in his almost four years as a barista was that people that looked certain ways ordered certain coffees. It wasn’t always true, but it was a safe bet that if a man came in carrying a briefcase and wearing a suit they looked like they’d rather set on fire, they were most likely ordering a coffee. Sometimes they’d order one with a shot of espresso, but that was as crazy as they typically got.
“I think we’ve got about twenty minutes until the next rush,” Ty said from Jensen’s side. He was restocking their cups, lids, and sleeves (all made from recycled material) and there was a dash of chocolate syrup on his wrist.
“Finally,” Jensen said with a sigh. His voice was the slightest bit hoarse from yelling out orders all afternoon and he was looking forward to a few minutes of a break.
Naturally, Jared would call him right at this time.
He suppressed an outward groan and stared at the caller ID. “Hey, Ty?” He held his phone up for the other man to see.
“I can man the station for a minute,” Ty laughed, shoving Jensen towards the back and Jensen nodded at him gratefully before answering the call.
“Can you get off work early?” Jared asked immediately, sounding out of breath.
“Hi to you too,” Jensen said. He put the phone between his cheek and shoulder, deciding that he could start getting some supplies together to take back up front.
“Hi!” Jared said and Jensen could hear the smile in his voice. “Can you get off work early?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m excited and I had the most amazing meeting with Mark and I want to tell you all about it and I want to celebrate!” Jared rushed.
“Baby, can’t you just wait and tell me about it later?”
“Do you even know me?”
“Right,” Jensen laughed softly. “It’s like I always forget that you lack patience.”
“You’d think you’d remember that by now.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“So can you get off work early?” Jared asked again.
“How about since you’re already off for the day, you come in here and distract me from work?” Jensen suggested as he grabbed a bottle of vanilla flavoring.
“But I want to celebrate,” Jared pouted and Jensen could just imagine him walking down the street to the car, bottom lip out and puppy-dog eyes set to maximum power.
“We can save the celebrations for when Mark actually pulls through and you get a part.”
“Fine,” Jared continued to pout. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. And I want something with lots of whipped cream!”
“I’ll get right on that,” Jensen laughed. They both hung up and Jensen gathered the group of supplies before walking back to the front.
“Jared okay?” Ty asked.
“Oh yeah, he’s just overly excited. He had that big meeting today,” Jensen smiled. “He’ll be here in a few minutes and he wants something with extra whipped cream.”
“Is sugar such a good thing for him when he’s already damn-near bouncing off the walls?” Ty asked, also smiling.
“Definitely not.”
Jensen helped Ty get a few of the other drinks together before starting on Jared’s white-girl, sugar-death drink. It was a blended mocha with lots of whipped cream and chocolate and caramel dripping down the sides. Jensen was certain it had to be at least 1,200 calories all on its own, but Jared could afford that. He was in the midst of drizzling the caramel when the door chimed and Jared strode through, smile bigger than Jensen had seen it in quite a while.
“Hey, Ty,” Jared greeted, shimmying by the small line of people who all threw him dirty looks as he went behind the counter.
“How’re you doing, Jared?” Ty asked.
“Pretty damn good,” Jared said earnestly, arms curling around Jensen’s waist. “And you?” he asked, nosing just behind Jensen’s ear and watching Ty grin, the other man’s eyes trained on Jensen’s face which, if Jared knew Jensen, was twisted in annoyance.
“I’m good!” Ty answered. “Getting ready to watch Jensen kick your ass so probably even better than I was five minutes ago.”
“You know you’re not supposed to be behind here,” Jensen said, hoping he sounded more serious than he felt.
“You wouldn’t leave work so you’re going to have to deal with me doing this now,” Jared said. He tightened his arms, making an ‘oof’ sound leave Jensen.
“I guess you’re not getting your drink then,” Jensen tried to shrug.
Jared’s arms immediately unwound and he reached around Jensen’s body for the cup. “Gimme!”
“You’re a child,” Jensen laughed, turning to watch Jared hum happily around his straw for a moment. “Are you happy now?” Jared let out a little ‘mmhmm’ and Jensen moved to the register to start taking orders.
“When he starts bouncing, I’m leaving,” Ty joked.
“I’m going with you,” Jensen agreed.
“You two are mean,” Jared said when he took a break from practically inhaling his drink. “I don’t know why I ever come visit.”
“Because you love me and Ty’s nice enough to put up with you,” Jensen supplied as an answer. “Now tell me about your meeting with Mark and why it has you like,” he gestured to all of Jared, “this.”
“Do you remember that time when we had first moved here and we thought we were walking into an employment office, but it was actually the Koxin and Morbrin Firm?”
“That was awful,” Jensen said, sliding a credit card. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more out of place.”
“Well take everything from that and amplify it by one hundred.”
“C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad! You wouldn’t be this excited if it had been that bad.”
“It wasn’t bad, it was just,” Jared paused to take a long drink, “so different than anything I’ve ever seen. Marlene’s office is in her apartment. You sit there and she has two cats that keep brushing up against your leg. United owns that entire building and it’s one of the bigger buildings downtown. Then, when you walk in, everything shines. And there’s a waterfall.”
“A waterfall?”
“Or a fountain. I didn’t actually see it, but I heard it and if it’s a fountain, it’s a loud fountain.”
“Should we get a waterfall in here?” Ty asked, eavesdropping as he put together some drinks.
“I don’t think there’s room to put a waterfall in here, Ty.”
“So how did the actual meeting go?” Jensen asked, trying to keep them all on topic.
“It was...unreal,” Jared admitted. He stirred his straw around the melting whipped cream in his cup. “He was nice and he listened to what I wanted and he told me how he can make those wants a reality for me. He’s going to get me five auditions with some big names.”
“How’s he going to get you those auditions?”
“Sending in a reel of my work and my resume. He said the moment they see United next to my name, they’ll want me to audition for them.”
“And what about the whole Marlene thing? How’s that all working out?”
“That’s part of the reason I didn’t sign any papers. No papers means no money and no paper-trail,” Jared explained.
“Oh yeah, that doesn’t sound shady at all,” Jensen mumbled loud enough for Jared to hear.
“Jensen,” Jared sighed, shoulders dropping.
“You have to know that sounds bad!”
“He said a big part of it is for my own protection. It means I have no commitment to them yet, that this is just a test run to see if things work out.”
“And has he explained how he’s going to make it all work out if you actually do get a part with them?”
“Yes, Jensen, he explained everything and it all added up,” Jared said, moving toward Jensen. The line for orders had disappeared, the people having moved to wait for their drinks, and Jared took the opportunity to stand in front of Jensen, forcing all of Jensen’s attention on himself. “I have a sort-of good idea as to what I’m doing. And this is a really big deal, Jensen. It could change everything for us.”
Jensen could feel worry begin to eat away at him inside, but Jared’s face, open and honest and desperate, was enough to make him fight it all down. Instead of continuing his game of twenty questions, he smiled softly and pulled Jared in for a hug. “Have I told you recently that I’m crazy proud of you?” he asked. Jared grinned down at him, so wide and bright, and Jensen couldn’t not kiss him. “Also,” Jensen started as they separated, the corner of his mouths sticky with caramel, “I think we need to buy you one of these blazers.”
“Oh yeah?” Jared asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Go to the back room if you’re going to do anything dirty,” Ty called to them and the sharp look they got from one of the few customers had them suppressing their laughs.
