A/N: That writers block tho! Seriously, it’s good to be back.
TWO
The following morning, as you pulled open the front doors of a very large, very sterile-looking office building set into the heart of downtown, you were glad you'd agreed to only one movie. Black, strappy heels clicked against reflective slate tiles beneath your feet; portfolios held securely beneath one arm.
"Right this way, Ms. [Y/F/N]." "Can I get you anything to drink?"
The receptionist was a bright, young intern. Bold, coppery hair fell nearly to his shoulders, his striking blue eyes lit with an eager kind of excitement as he showed you to the conference room.
"If you've got any tea, I'd love some."
Smiling as the man nodded and bustled away, you took a moment to glance around your surroundings. As conference rooms went, it was fairly ordinary - a long, glass-topped table was set in the middle of the space, surrounded by about twenty leather office chairs. One wall was constructed entirely of crystal clear glass, though the only view was more of the same tall, lifeless buildings.
Turning as the door shushed open behind you, a woman approached, a grand smile on her face; one hand extended in your direction.
"Ms. [Y/F/N], it's so good to finally meet you. My husband and I have heard good things."
The woman's grip was firm, confident, and immediately you got the inclination she was going to be the one you'd need to impress.
The man from earlier had returned, a selection of teas, creams and sugar arrayed on a dark serving tray.
"Thank you Dylan, that will be all."
Glancing to the woman whose hand you still held after smiling in appreciation at Dylan, you wondered if this woman was as dismissive with everyone else as she appeared to be with him. His own smile faltered, quickly replaced with a wary expression of disinterest as he turned and left the two of you alone.
The next two hours were spent presenting your work to the owners of Caliber Entertainment.
By the time you'd been shown to the door by Dylan, you were exhausted. While confident in your abilities and your work, your struggle had always been selling yourself.
Regardless, you were happy to be out of there. While meetings like those were a necessary evil, you really wanted nothing more than to go home, take off these damned heels and relax.
Pulling your phone from the pocket of your blazer, you typed in the lock-screen password and found several messages waiting.
[Rob]: Hey, finished at the studio a little early today. How was your meeting?
[Rob]: Thought I might stop by the store, pick up a couple steaks...you hungry?
The rumbling of your stomach as you read the words was answer enough.
Noticing the last text had come through only a few minutes prior, you hurried to type out a response.
[Y/F/N]: Starving. I didn't know you could cook.
Almost immediately, the device in your hand chirped with an answer.
Rob: One of many things, I'm sure. Movie at my place tonight? Should be home in twenty.
Trying to remember if you'd ever actually been inside his house, it took only a moment to realize you hadn't.
Sending off a message to let him know you'd bring the beer before dropping the phone on the passenger seat of your car, you couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of spending another evening with Rob.
Pulling into your driveway a short time later, you were surprised to see him sitting on the front porch. The ridiculous grin that spread across your face was hard to hide, so you decided not to bother.
"Well look at you, all dressed up...heels and everything eh?" His teasing tone matched the mirth in his expression.
"Don't get used to it." The phrase was clipped, but accompanied by your smile, still firmly in place.
Reaching out to grip his arm while you kicked off the footwear, the blazer quickly joined the abandoned semblance of professionalism.
Crouching to pick up both items, you proceeded through the front door, calling out an invitation for Rob to follow.
"Let me just change real fast, no way am I doing movie night in jeans."
Nodding, Rob headed for the kitchen "I'll grab the beer."
Disappearing down the hallway to your room, the closet stretching along the north wall held more clothes than you knew what to do with. Unfastening the buttons of the dark-washed denim clinging to your thighs, you reached a steadying hand out to balance against the dresser as you peeled them from your body, abandoning them in the wicker hamper set in a corner.
"Hey, [Y/F/N] - have you got any pepper? I think I'm out."
Nodding to yourself, you quickly realized that he couldn't hear you. Grabbing a pair of cutoffs, you turned, stepping into the bottoms and pulling them up as Rob paused in your doorway.
Peeling the flowy chiffon fabric of your business shirt off over your head, you answered his question without missing a beat; completely unfazed at your state of undress.
"Yeah, I think so - one sec."
Pulling open the second drawer of your dresser and selecting a solid-white tank top, you pulled it over your head while heading for the door.
Walking past the man into the hallway with the shirt still covering your head, you missed the flustered look on his face.
Closing his eyes, the back of his head fell against the doorjamb. The initial attraction he'd felt towards his neighbor had started to blossom a few months prior, but he'd never said anything to her about it. He liked the way things were between them, but her obvious nonchalance for being half-naked around him was going to change that.
Pushing a breath between his pursed lips, he stepped away from the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face as he joined [Y/F/N] back in the kitchen.
"Here's that pepper you needed." "Ready to go?"
Dropping the pepper mill into his outstretched hand, you made for the front door, flipping light switches as you went.
Following you from the house, Rob pulled the door shut behind him, watching with a small smile as you skipped barefoot down the sidewalk.
The sun-kissed warmth of his deck seeped into the bottom of your feet; the smell of the grill wrapping you in the savory flavors of summer.
Twisting the caps off of two amber bottles pulled from the cooler, you handed one across to Rob. Closing the lid on a large stainless steel grill, the man turned, accepting the drink with gratitude.
"So, how was your day?" Flopping down on one of the adirondak chairs situated around the wrought-iron grate of his fire pit, Rob turned his eyes up to yours, the light blue-grey hue fixed in place. Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a long swallow, awaiting your answer.
"As good as can be expected I suppose. I despise having to suck up to rich assholes though."
After a pause, you laughed.
"No offense." Tilting your bottle towards him in apology, the lopsided grin on your face made him chuckle.
"None taken." "Hey, how do you like your steak?"
Rob stood from his seat, wandering over to check the grill.
"Medium rare, please."
Shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun, you peered out across the expanse of chillingly still water, ripples of light dancing across the surface of his pool.
"So...do you ever actually use your pool or is it just for sheer decorative purposes?"
"Oh, uh, well..no real point when you live alone right? Sometimes I swim laps I guess."
Shrugging nonchalantly, Rob turned back to the grill, transferring the food onto a serving platter.
"Can I help with anything?" Placing a hand against his back, you peered over one shoulder.
"That looks amazing, I could eat a goat right now."
Rob chuckled again. Pointing towards his kitchen, the tongs still in one hand, he shook his head.
"Could you grab the salad please?"
Over dinner, which was even better than it had smelled, the conversation revolved around work and the increasingly fleeting amount of free time both of you found yourselves with.
It took you longer than you cared to admit to notice towards the end of the meal that Rob was acting a bit strangely. Pushing what was left of his food around the edges of the plate and offering little in the way of conversation or eye-contact when he did speak, the sudden shift in his behavior concerned you.
When he began to stutter and it took visible effort for him to form complete sentences, you reached across the table, tentatively covering his hand with your own. The touch startled him enough that you nearly pulled back.
"Hey man, you okay?"
While the question remained friendly and open-ended, the idea that he might not want to share what he was thinking only occurred to you after the fact.
“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” The smile he offered was anything but convincing; wilting quickly, it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. Rather than push the issue however, you reflected that same uneasy smile, drawing your hand back and rubbing the suddenly clammy skin against your bare thigh.
"Ready for movie number two?" Standing suddenly, Rob reached forward, grabbing your empty plate before hurrying inside.
A seed of doubt wedged itself in your chest, tendrils of unease taking root when your brain began to throw every possible scenario around as to why his behavior had so suddenly changed.
Slow to follow, by the time you'd walked back through the patio doors and crossed the house, Rob was kneeling in front of the entertainment center, elbow deep in Lily's toy box, muttering under his breath about something.
In one fluid movement, he stood, clutching the remote he'd apparently been searching for in one hand.
Perching on the edge of the sofa, eyes shifting between Rob and the screen in front of you, the worry that flitted around your consciousness continuing to grow. Where earlier in the afternoon, he’d been all smiles and carefree laughter - his rigid posture and the awkward silence blanketing the room in a thick fog allowed only one valid conclusion to form in your mind: Rob was angry, and somehow, somewhere - you’d messed up.
Series Summary: Reader moves to LA to pursue her dreams and finds a best friend in her new neighbor.
Chapter Warnings: Heart-break, Drinking
ONE
"I..I can't do this anymore Rob."
The heavy sigh on the other end of the line was laced with exhaustion, but not the type that would be fixed with a restful night. This was the type of exhaustion that resulted from one too many missed dinners and far too little time spent actually being with each other.
Distracted as he was, the man stilled, ice pouring through his body, the chill of her words ran deep.
"Wh-what do you m-mean?" "Jenna?!"
Rob's grip on his cellphone tightened, his fingers dappled in white, as if he could hold on to the woman he loved simply by force.
"Goodbye, Rob."
-Bee-doo-
The silence deafening as he pulled the device from his ear, Rob's expression of shock quickly shifted to horror and then dismay as he realized what had just happened.
An hour had passed by the time he ran up the stairs to his front door, hastily shoving the key into the lock after dropping them twice. Pushing the front door open, the harsh sound of the wood bouncing off the wall echoed through the entry. He barely noticed. Striding through the house, he stopped short upon reaching the dining room.
Four tapered candles sat in crystal holders, the tip of each wick frayed and singed with obsidian. Perfect white plates resting atop ruby chargers, matching linen napkins were artfully arranged with the good silver.
In the center of the table, a half bottle of wine sat open, the cork abandoned next to the single wine glass; one drink remaining at the bottom.
Approaching the table, Rob reached out, fingers trembling as he picked up a single sheet of paper, his name scrawled on the front in her looping penmanship.
Opening the note, only two words met his blurred vision:
'I'm sorry'
Frantic, he turned the paper over, hoping for something more. In his haste, he'd neglected to notice the brass key that had dropped from it. Picking it up, he recognized it as the one he'd given her to his house a few months prior.
Having landed next to a medium-sized box, Rob's focus slid to the bright blue paper, a black satin bow tied to the top.
For the second time that evening, a sense of dread overcame the man. With shaking hands, he dropped the paper and picked up the gift.
Pulling on one end of the ribbon, the satin fell from the box as Rob worked to remove the paper.
A sleek black frame surrounded the scroll of paper the cardiologist had printed for him that illustrated his heart-rate. Months of hard work and speech therapy had paid off, and, during his last check-up, the doctor had declared he was healthy, no longer needing regular visits to track his recovery.
A second sheet of paper had been included with the gift, this one just a small note:
'Later we'll put that ticker to the test ;)'
'Xoxo'
The tears fell then, staining his cheeks as he realized that this time, there was no amount of pleading that would get her to forgive him.
He'd forgotten their anniversary.
****
"Dude. You didn't…"
[Y/F/N] was seated on the couch with her feet folded beneath her, a beer held in one hand while she stared at her friend.
Scoffing, Rob lifted his own bottle to his lips, taking a long swallow of the IPA.
"Yeah, I uh, guess I'm good at fuckin' shit up."
"Hey man, we've all been screw-ups at least once in our lives."
With a gentle squeeze of his denim-covered knee, you rose from the couch, watching as he averted his eyes, nervous fingers picking at the black label encircling his drink.
"Want another one?"
Not bothering to look up, the man nodded, a faint smile on his lips.
Walking into the kitchen, you thought back to the day you'd been relaxing on your deck with a new novel, glancing up to see the woman storming out of the house next door, a distraught Rob trailing after her. You remembered how he watched, helpless, as she had climbed into her rather expensive white Bentley and driven away without so much as a glance in the rearview mirror.
That had been just shy of two years ago, and while the two of you had always been friendly, until recently, conversations had consisted solely of talk about the weather and your respective careers.
After a particularly shitty day about six months prior, you'd invited him over for a beer and now get-togethers like these had become increasingly more common.
Pulling your air-popper from the pantry, you emptied what remained of a Costco-sized container of popcorn kernels into the machine. Hitting the power, you moved to the refrigerator, pulling a stick of butter from the door as the steady hum of the motor whirred behind you.
Rob loved popcorn. It always made him smile, and although his heart had been broken so long ago, sometimes you felt like it had been just yesterday.
Bending down to retrieve a large ceramic bowl from beneath the counter, your thoughts turned protective when you remembered the pain that had been etched into his features that day.
Of course, you knew how Rob could be. How musicians and actors.. and...how artists could be when it came to their work. It's why, as much as you felt for the man, you weren't surprised when he'd finished recounting the full events of how she'd walked out of his life.
You weren't surprised because you'd had that exact thing happen to you.
Dumping the excessive amount of popcorn into the red and white striped bowl, you drizzled the butter you'd melted over the heaping pile and finished the snack by sprinkling coarse sea salt and sugar into the mix.
Turning and flipping off the light, you pulled open the door to the fridge, grabbing two bottles from the top shelf, the bright light casting a soft glow over the counters behind you. Using a hip to close the door and wrapping your free arm around the hefty bowl of popcorn, you sauntered back into the living room, taking a moment to snatch a few pieces with your mouth from the top of the pile.
"Here, brought you a snack."
*****
Rob glanced up as [Y/F/N] re-entered the room juggling a sizable bowl of popcorn and the second beer she'd offered. He smiled to himself at her gesture; she was always looking out for him. Although he was more apt to keep to himself, he realized then that he'd grown to really enjoy her company.
"You know me too well [Y/F/N.]"
Chuckling, his eyes lit up at the sight when she flopped next to him on the couch, depositing the bowl into his lap before turning and grabbing the remote. Settling in, she slumped back against the plush cushions before lifting her feet to rest on the table. Clicking the power button, [Y/F/N] navigated through the Netflix menu in search of something to watch.
"Hmm, Lord of the Rings marathon or Harry Potter marathon?"
The question was so nonchalantly asked, that you were surprised when Rob laughed.
"If you want me to come over more often, you just hafta say so."
Nudging your shoulder with his, you blushed against the darkness, thankful he couldn't see you, but internally embarrassed at having him call you out so immediately.
Still, he answered, as if he really didn't mind spending his Friday nights on your couch.
"I've seen all the Tolkein movies, and I can't wait for the next one. Let's do Harry Potter, everyone keeps asking me what house I'm in and it'd be nice to have an actual answer next time instead of just bs-ing my way through the question."
With his mouth full of popcorn, you'd only been able to make out every fourth word or so, but regardless, you started the first movie, the tell-tale notes of Hedwig's theme filling the space around you.
Two hours passed in a blur of questions and enraptured silence alike, Rob taking great joy in the discovery of how much he enjoyed the start of the saga.
"Wanna watch one more?"
Raising his brows, the man turned to you, his eyes shifting between your face and the remote you'd picked up off the arm of the couch.
Glancing at the time on the bottom corner of the screen, you noted that it was almost midnight.
The confliction in your expression was obvious. You were having a great time, but this was a huge gig. One you'd been trying to land for months. They'd finally taken the plunge just last week. Yet for some reason, your mind warred with you, the details trying to lock themselves in place while you mentally juggled the options.
"It's okay if you don't want to, we can always do a different day. Not like I'm going anywhere."
His soft smile had you nodding. That really was the more logical, adult thing to do. With an annoyed groan, you stood from the couch.
Rob followed suit, stretching his arms overhead as he yawned. Your eyes flicked to the small strip of exposed flesh between his t-shirt and jeans, lingering a little longer than was probably necessary.
Leaning against the door as you held it open for him, you were already looking forward to the following afternoon as he descended the steps of your porch, spinning around to wave once more before crossing the street to his own house.
Chapter Summary: Reader helps Misha and his family prepare for the holidays.
Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe brief anxiety
TWENTY-EIGHT
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of trashy mid-day television, several short naps and more trips to the bathroom than you cared to count; the ceramic floor cool beneath your fevered skin.
By the end of the weekend, your symptoms had all but completely subsided, a mild headache the only reminder of how miserable you’d been over the last few days. Buried in the warmth of your deep blue fur-lined parka, the bite of the early morning chill went un-noticed as you walked hand-in-hand with Misha to his car.
So lost in your own mind, you barely noticed when he pulled into the driveway – the smooth electric engine so quiet that Misha removing his seat-belt was the first thing you noticed.
The entire day Saturday, while you’d been confined to bed, the multitude of tweets and other notifications you’d been tagged in were impossible to miss and since then, the tiny seed of doubt that lived in your chest had begun to flourish. As a fan yourself, seeing through the mean comments to the worry and concern beneath the awful words wasn’t difficult. Misha was adored by people around the world, news spread like wildfire on the internet and often innocent actions were blown out of proportion by those who were either genuinely concerned or who just liked to stir up trouble. The pictures surfacing from San Francisco seemed to be some mix of both.
“You okay?” Misha’s fingers, laced through your own, tightened while those impossibly multi-dimensional eyes stared down at you, worry etched into the creases of his expression.
The pain evident in his features was like a vice around your chest, and, as pinpricks of moisture gathered at the corners of your eyes, you wanted nothing more than to erase that hurt, whatever it took.
“Of course! Mish, don’t look at me like that – I’m okay, I promise. Just thinking about this weekend is all.”
A soft smile of encouragement replaced your own concern as you leaned up on your tip-toes and wrapped your arms around his waist. Pressing lips lightly to his cheek before burying your face in his chest, the warmth of his body mingled with the calming scent of his cologne and immediately you could feel the tension start to dissipate – just like it always did.
The moment of quiet was short-lived as the front door was pulled open and both Maison and West came spilling down the steps, Vicki chasing after them with their jackets, which neither child appeared to care for.
“Daddy!” “[Y/F/N]!” Four arms wove themselves through both your and Misha’s legs, the children’s exuberance nearly knocking you off balance.
Looking up from the tangle of limbs, you smiled warmly at Vicki. The woman had lowered herself to the steps of the porch. Leaning against one of the thick stone columns, she held a camera in one hand and a tired expression on her face. Gently prying Maison’s left arm from its spot still around your thigh, you approached the front steps, leaning over to hug Vicki as well. This kind of welcome home was still a foreign concept for you, but slowly you were beginning to enjoy the feelings associated with being around Misha and his family.
*****
Over the course of the subsequent days, preparations for the holidays started to become the focus of your daily schedule.
The weekend after returning from California found you crouched in the attic of Misha’s house, sorting through bins filled with lights, wreaths and shiny baubles. Misha’s voice echoed up through the opening across the room, letting you know he was ready for another load. Vicki pointed to a shallow box on your left, indicating that was the next to go. The three of you had managed to work out an assembly-line of sorts and soon the three of you were all gathered in the living room, the decorations neatly stacked atop the sideboard flanking the fireplace. The very same one that had held your contract all those months ago. While it often felt like you’d never been without Misha, you were suddenly reminded that it had been a mere few months since he and his family had welcomed you into their lives and into their home.
“We seem to be missing something…” Misha tilted his head and stared at the blank space stretching before the large bay windows.
“I just…can’t put my finger on it.” Tapping his bottom lip, his clear sapphire eyes turned to Maison and West. “What do you guys think, are we missing something?”
“Daaaaaa-deee, we need a kwis-mas twee.” Maison stared up at her father, a bright smile spreading across her face as she laughed at his question. Putting all of her weight into the effort, the little girl planted her hands at the small of his back, trying her hardest to push him towards the front door.
Coming up behind her husband, Vicki planted a knit sock-monkey hat atop Misha’s head, the bright blue and cream features of GISH’s mascot sliding down over his eyes. Shrugging into a black parka, Misha laughed at his wife’s antics; West stomping around the entryway in his oversized snow boots, the zipper of his own jacket jingling with each step.
For just a moment, you stood there – watching the dynamics of this family play out before you. They were so very typical, almost down to the white picket-fence. And yet, at the same time they were all so incredibly different in the best way possible.
Three hours later, snow danced around your feet as gusts of wind disturbed the pristine, glittering powder. After searching for what seemed like hours for the best tree, West had stumbled upon a giant he deemed ‘the one.’ It was breath-taking really, the boughs heavy with emerald needles; two rich, deep mahogany pine-cones still clinging to one branch. The boy, buried to his knees in the drifts surrounding the magnificent fir, was beaming with pride as Misha knelt to assess how best to bring the ten-foot tree home.
*****
Flames licked at the edges of the logs piled neatly in the living-room fireplace; the warmth of it filling the room with comfort as you hung four stockings from the mantle. Across the room, Maison and West sat at a small table, shaking crumpled paper sacks with unimaginable glee. When asked what they should do with the pine-cones they’d removed from the tree, the kids had decided they wanted to make bird feeders (so the small birds wouldn’t go hungry in the cold winter weather.) Watching as they each opened their bag, both children were very excited to see that spreading seed on a peanut-butter covered pine-cone yielded new treats for the sparrows who hadn’t flown south.
“[Y/F/N]! Look at what we made!” A trail of multicolored seeds following in his wake, West lifted his prize up to where you could see it better, blowing a few long strands of sandy hair away from his eyes.
“Ooh, those are great, I bet the birds will really appreciate you looking out for them by making this treat. Why don’t we go outside and hang them up?”
Faces glued to the large living-room windows, both children were seated, legs crossed, with mugs of hot cocoa on the thick bench seat overlooking the front yard. Several small birds flitted between the safety of the eaves and the veritable buffet hanging before them.
Vicki and Misha were positioned on either side of the great tree, taking turns stringing lights through the branches; boxes of ornaments scattered at their feet. Jason’s Christmas album playing on low in the background added to the memorable day, and as you gathered the links of garland made from popcorn and cranberries, you realized just how excited you were for the holidays - something that had been missing in you for more years than you cared to count.
The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way, and, by early evening the house looked like something out of a Hallmark movie. Rather than being kitschy and overdone however, it felt homey and welcoming. With thoughts of the holidays however, also came thoughts of gift-giving. The simple bliss you’d felt much of the day started to ebb away, replacing itself with anxiety – what could you possibly give Misha and Vicki that they didn’t already possess? In the short time you’d spent with this family, it had become quite clear that they were both incredibly talented, giving and creative people. Somehow a new blender just didn’t fit the situation. Nor did you feel like you could just walk into the nearby mall and miraculously find the perfect thing. The more you thought about it, the stronger and more intense your worry became. Idea after idea would drift through your mind, only to be stricken from consideration almost immediately. So consumed were you with the problem; eyes staring blankly into the flames dancing in the hearth, that only after being called several times did you realize you were being spoken to.
“What’re you thinking about?” Lowering himself to the plush carpet, Misha turned, a lopsided grin spreading across his stubble-blanketed features. Scooching to sit behind you, the arms he loosely draped around your waist tightened until your back was pressed hard to his chest, breath warm against your ear.
“Well, I was thinking about what I should - …. you know? It doesn’t matter, because now I’m thinking about something very different. Twisting to face him, your lips hovered a breath from his – eyes locked.
“I should go help with dinner, and I do have to go home tonight – so this little game you’re playing… definitely isn’t going to work. Good try…Mr. Collins.”
With a quick press of your lips to his cheek, you rose from the floor, sauntering off in search of Vicki and the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen.
SUMMARY: When reader isn't attending a Supernatural Convention, she's preparing for the next one. Staying busy is the only thing that keeps her sane. While it's difficult for some people to understand her motives, one person will show her that he knows exactly what she's going through. Will Jared be able to make the reader believe she deserves to be loved or is she too far gone already?
SERIES WARNINGS: While this first chapter has little in the way of warnings, future chapters may contain content difficult for some readers. Each chapter will be tagged appropriately but may contain topics such as: Mental health, severe depression, trust-issues, and abnormal psychology along with eventual forms of healing and discussions centered around relationships and support systems. Please heed the warnings for each individual chapter.
A/N: This is the first chapter of what I’m guessing will be a fairly long series. Originally I was going to try to tie this up in a neat little one-shot, but it’s just not going to happen. This was completed for @saxxxology‘s Plus Size Reader Challenge
“It’s called Alexithymia.” “Yeah, I don’t know - I’m just glad I’m not actually a sociopath.” “What? No I--fuck!” “Fuck these fucking pants!” The sleek metal phone slipped from its precarious position against your shoulder and fell to the floor with an ominous clatter. Closing your eyes in frustration, you filled your lungs with several deep breaths - in through your nose, out through your mouth.
In-out, in...out.
Rolling sideways from the mattress onto the floor and reaching a cautious hand towards the new device, you prayed to whatever God would listen that the screen was still intact. Opening one eye a fraction of an inch, a deep sigh of relief flooded your body as the smooth, black screen flashed once; the tinny voice echoing from the speakers prattling on as if nothing had gone awry.
Standing from the walnut floorboards, you turned to face the floor length mirror. While it had taken almost a decade, the wide, curving hips reflected in the glass had become the favorite part of your body. Only problem was, finding jeans that fit well was nearly impossible. “I need new pants.” Whining into the receiver, the woman on the other end of the phone simply snorted in amusement.
“Well if you’d spend more than twenty-dollars on your clothes, you’d have a helluva lot easier time finding ones that you liked.” “I’ve offered to take you shopping how many times?” Your best friend had a point. Focusing again on the phone call, you relented - one outfit couldn’t possibly cost that much, could it?
Two hours later, your arms rested atop a cool wooden counter; a scowl painted across your features while numbly holding out a metallic blue credit card. The woman behind the desk smiled brightly, faltering a bit when she had to wrestle the card from your grasp. Walking from the store with what felt like an entirely too-small-bag-for-the-amount-of-money-you-spent outfit, you joked about what else you could’ve done with that money.
Shaking her head in exasperation, your friend tried again to argue her point. “These clothes will last you a long time - the photo ops you so voluntarily throw your money at last all of - what? Ten seconds?!” Pushing one hand through the hair covering your eyes, you tried again to explain why you paid large sums of money for those ten-second interactions. Violet’s expression let you know that she still didn’t understand. Funny thing was, she’d been the one to introduce you to Supernatural in the first place. “Well this weekend you’ll be at the boys’ beck and call, so I think you spending the money here is worth it. Don’t they give you a free photo op for working anyhow? While far from glamorous, you’d been thrilled when the company hosting the event had accepted you as a volunteer. Rolling your eyes, you assured her (and, okay, yourself) that you likely wouldn’t even see any of the cast. Only seasoned help got to be handlers.
The rest of the week flew by, and Thursday afternoon found you trying (unsuccessfully) to clear the sting of sweat from your eyes while simultaneously carrying an arm full of poles and light posts. They’d put you on stage duty for the first day. Afterwards, you were pretty sure if you ever saw another velvet-backed chair again, it would be too soon. Two-thousand of them sat in neat rows filling the main theater room. “Alright [Y/F/N], could you please take these and label the seats?” Suddenly conscious of the slight tick in your right eye, you nodded silently - sliding the heavy rolls of numbered stickers over your wrists before walking to the end of the front row to begin your new assignment.
You don’t recall falling into bed Thursday night. The melodic voices of Rob and the boys from Louden Swain cut through your dreamless sleep far too early Friday morning. “Is it cool if I come over…”
Excitement warred with irritability while dressing in the new jeans you'd purchased the day before. The dark denim clung to your hips, the waistband taut once the button was fastened. “Woah! What. Is. This?!” Turning to the left and then the right, your mouth fell open in a soft “oh” - there was no gap! You'd never been able to find pants that fit both your hips and waist simultaneously. It was a miracle. Still - you weren't about to complain. Pulling the basic black volunteer tank top over your head, you slipped on the trusty pair of Chucks that had followed you to every convention over the last decade. Some people cherished a hat or a cozy flannel, for you - these shoes filled that spot.
“WHAT!?!” “What do you mean she’s not here today? How..what am I supposed to do?!” You’d been about to duck behind the heavy black drapes dressing the stage to report for your morning assignments when a familiar voice made you stop short. Derek, a fifty-something event planner was pacing just the other side of the divide, his simple brown loafers kicking up small torrents of dust with his agitation. Startled as the man threw open the curtains and stomped across the stage, you decided it was probably a better bet to find someone else to talk to about how you could help for the day. Turning, you were nearly through the opening and had started to descend the rickety metal staircase leading to the volunteer break-room when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.
“ ‘Scuse me. You’re working here...yes?” Unexpected tension lanced through your body at the sudden contact and some part of you froze. As if he could feel it, Derek removed his hand rather quickly, absentmindedly shoving his ring-adorned fingers into the pocket of his slacks; the other hand busily scrolling through his phone; artificial light illuminating his tired, pale blue eyes. In your silent contemplation of the man, you’d failed to answer his question. “Ms…[Y/L/N] - right?” “Have you been assigned yet today?” With a slow shake of your head, his hand shot out of his pocket as he threw an arm around your shoulders - laughing heartily at something you’d missed. The mans face was jovial, faint creases of forehead wrinkles and crows’ feet framing his watery irises allowed you focus on what he was saying, rather than the pressure of his proximity.
“You’re savin’ mah bacon Miss [Y/L/N] - I tell ya what.”
The shrill screaming of his phone was sudden and briefly you felt bad for Derek. Raising the device to his ear, his body language calmed significantly; assuring the person on the other end that he’d found a replacement. A replacement for who, you still didn't know. Not that it was really any of your business. Nodding once, Derek turned back to you, sliding the small device into the clip on his belt.
Fishing into the pinstriped fabric of his pocket, he pulled a cluster of keys out. “Okay, take my car to this address” -- procuring a pen from his jacket, the man scribbled some notes onto a slip of paper; the handwriting sharp and messy -- “Have you got a phone?” Tentatively reaching into your back pocket, you slipped the oversized Samsung into your fingers. “Good! When you get there, call this number..” --more scribbling-- and bring everyone here.” “Let me know when you’re back.” Glancing at the unfamiliar handwriting, you squinted, trying to make out the address.
“Ms. [Y/L/N]..?” The impatient snapping of his fingers focused your attention on the man before you. “Please hurry - lots to do...lots to do!” With that he turned on his heel and hurried back through the curtained wall.
Although it was still well before noon, the parking lot held hundreds of vehicles, including two beautifully restored impalas. Sunlight glinted across the deep onyx paint as you walked by. The only clue to what car you searched for was a familiar gold emblem embossed on the black key fob clutched in your hands. Anxiety prickled along the base of your neck. You should've asked where Derek had parked. As your mind filled with every possible worse-case scenario, continually jamming your thumb to the unlock button prevailed when a flash of golden light several cars down caught your eye.
The engine roared to life with the press of the ignition, the lumbering bear of a Tahoe easing from it's reserved parking space as you wondered why anyone needed this large of a vehicle. Twenty minutes later, the truck settled into a quiet hum in front of a downtown hotel. Derek hadn't bothered to write a name on the paper he’d hastily scribbled upon, and you really had no idea who you were supposed to be collecting.
Craning your neck to see through the windshield, the immense hotel tower rose impossibly high before you; the steady ticking of scarlett hazard lights keeping time with the ringing as you waited for someone to answer.
The tall, revolving glass door caught your attention, several people clambering into the contraption at once made you smile; a generic voicemail message kicking on after the fourth ring. The group spilled from the door in a mess of laughter and a tangle of bodies.
Why you felt the need to duck behind the steering wheel upon recognizing them, you'll never know.
Rob, Rich, Briana, Kim and Billy were still laughing amongst themselves. Inside, you were happy the windows were tinted, as you were fairly certain you sat there with your mouth hanging open while you watched the group of friends wander over to talk to a street performer. Eyes darting to the clock on the dash, you quickly realized it'd been nearly an hour since Derek had sent you on this assignment.
Without looking away from the group, you tried the number again. The phone clicked and a cheerful voice answered with a giggly hello. Immediately you refocused on the task at hand, “Uh, hi. I think I'm supposed to be picking you up?” The mean bitch in your head snickered at how uncool you sounded.
“Scuse me, what was that?” A blush crept across your cheeks when you realized who you were talking to. Looking from your lap to the window, Rob stood halfway between his group of friends and where you were. Twisting and looking back over his shoulder, he must’ve put two and two together because he waved before beckoning the others to follow.
You weren’t prepared for this - you’d volunteered with the direct understanding that behind-the-scenes was where volunteers stayed. Occasionally one would bring the cast bottles of water or coffee, but picking them up at their hotel? Didn’t they have drivers for that? Your thoughts were cut short as three doors opened almost simultaneously and bodies began to climb in around you.
That had been the start to a whirlwind weekend. The Creation staff kept you on your toes constantly, although somehow Derek continued assigning tasks more cast-centered than had been expected. It started with picking up the Friday guests, sure - but since then you’d done everything from coffee runs to walking the ladies’ to the bathroom and photo-op room, to helping with the sound check for the concert currently taking place on stage.
Now in the green room, crouched in front of the mini-fridge, your mind wandered while removing water bottles from their thick plastic casing, stocking the shelves for the guests.
A faint beeping and the murmur of voices caught your attention as the door opened across from you. Osric, Clif, Jensen and Jared sauntered in, lost in their own conversation. A familiar prickling sensation that often assaulted you in new situations made your shoulders tense. Luckily, the repeated exposure to the guests this weekend had given you plenty of practice to collect your emotions quickly; stuffing them into the deepest recesses of your mind.
A few breaths later, you stood from the position on the floor, a large smile plastered across your features as you approached the small group.
“Hey guys, anyone need a drink?” Osric smiled widely and accepted one of the chilled bottles. The others followed suit, Jared’s eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as his fingers closed over yours.
“Hey, thanks…” “What’s your name?” Your eyes darted between his brilliant hazel irises and the long fingers wrapped around the drink; beads of condensation wetting your skin as his hand rested on yours.
Hurriedly pulling away, you scrubbed a palm against the denim of your jeans before extending it and introducing yourself.
“Hey, I’m [Y/F/N].” The others said their hellos as well, your gaze shifting between them while they chatted animatedly for a few moments. Occupied as you were, you failed to notice that Jared didn’t take his eyes off of you for even a moment.
She was nervous. Not that he wasn’t used to the look. But this one was different, Jared decided. He recognized the determination to hide her anxiety as something he’d gone through as well. He could see she was excited to meet them, and yet, she held back; likely protecting a small part of who she really was as she presented the version of herself she wanted everyone to see. While genuinely happy to interact with all of his fans, Jared felt intrigued by [Y/F/N]. He wanted to know more about her. About the discomfort she tried her best to disguise as nerves. Something was off.
Crossing her arms over her chest while making small talk with the others, Jared noticed how proficient she was at distributing her attention to each of them equally, pausing for only a moment before looking to the next person.
Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Jared turned his attention to the door, having opened for a second time; watching as Rich strode in, beckoning to Jensen.
“C’mon man, your public awaits.” He bowed dramatically, waffling his hand in the space before him. Jensen huffed, shaking his head as he clasped Rich’s shoulder, following him from the room. [Y/F/N] trailed along behind them and Jared allowed himself to take a longer look at the woman. The tank top she wore clung to her body, the curve of her full breasts and thick waist led his eyes to her hips.
“Damn.”
The word of admiration was muttered under his breath, but as he focused on her face again, the pink in her cheeks made it clear she’d heard him.
“You coming Jared?” She’d stopped, holding the door open for him. Nodding, he quickened his stride and disappeared into the darkened hallway as he headed for the holding area backstage.
If Saturday had been busy, Sunday was borderline chaotic.
Attendance surged for the final day of the convention. Awake earlier, you were due to report in by 6:30 even though the first panel wasn’t due to begin until noon.
Shuffling through the abandoned corridors of the hotel, you could only hope there’d be caffeine waiting at the check-in station.
“Good morning Ms. [Y/L/N].” Blinking several times in rapid succession, you focused on Derek as he sat behind the assignment table. The quiet murmur of his voice as he looked over the sheaf of papers laid out before him only partially registered in your mind.
The concert the night before had been amazing, and you’d been up until the early hours of the morning from the level of energy you’d absorbed. It didn’t help that a certain phrase kept replaying in your mind. You’d definitely heard Jared last night and you liked to imagine he’d been talking about you. The thought brought a smile to your face, regardless of how absurd the notion was. While pretty sure he likely had some gorgeous girlfriend waiting for him back home, you were content with the small amount of time you did get to spend around Jared. Silent pining was more your style anyhow.
“...order.” “Ms. [Y/L/N]?” Snapping out of your daydream, you worked harder to listen to the man in front of you.
“I’m sorry...what was that?” The middle-aged man smiled kindly.
“I know it’s early Ms. [Y/L/N], but we really need you to be completely present at these briefings. Otherwise, the chaos about to descend on this place will be ten-times worse.” Shifting oversized reading glasses from where they’d fallen down the bridge of his nose, the man cleared his throat, consulting the Sunday schedule. Finished with his admonishment, Derek held a slip of paper out to you.
“As I was saying, please grab the coffee order for the cast. It’ll be ready precisely at 9:50. That should give you enough time to get back upstairs so everyone can get their daily dose of caffeine.” “Until then, make sure the green room has plenty of breakfast items and if the cast need anything, it’s on you to make them happy.”
Derek’s last sentence drew your attention from the list you’d been perusing. Outwardly, you nodded so he’d know you were paying attention, even though you still struggled with the personal Hell that came with sleep deprivation.
Later that morning, as you stood in line at the bustling Starbucks just outside the hotel, your mind once again turned to thoughts of the cast. Although you were tired, you wouldn’t change these experiences for the world.
As silly as it seemed, these conventions had gone a long way to helping prevent you from falling into your depression. In-between event weekends you often busied yourself with planning the next one and it got you through each day. It was refreshing to see mental health being addressed more by the media. When you’d been diagnosed several years prior, only your doctor had believed it was a real thing.
Walking up to the waist-high counter and pulling the folded paper from your back pocket, you began to list the order scribbled upon it. At one point, squinting your eyes in an attempt to read Derek’s handwriting you gave up and handed the barista the list, hoping she’d be able to help discern it.
“Maybe I can help?” Clutching the paper, you raised your eyes to the woman in front of you. She stilled as a hand reached over your shoulder and gently took the list from your grasp. Breathing deep, you turned to find Jared standing behind you, long strands of auburn hair falling across his face while he perused the handwriting.
Shifting to stand next to Jared’s tall frame, you took a moment to point at the line you were having trouble with. His body was like a heater, the intoxicating scent of his cologne made all the more apparent by the warmth of his skin.
Jared brought the paper closer to his face, squinting at a particular cluster of letters.
“I..think that says...skinny?” Glancing at the rest of the scribbled letters, he was able to make out the order for a non-fat soy latte. “Huh, I didn’t know Mark was here today.” Shrugging, his eyes flicked up to yours; an easy smile replacing the serious expression he’d worn moments before. “Did you get everything okay?” Nodding, the young woman behind the register added up the total while you handed her your credit card.
Moving to the end of the counter to await the several drinks, you turned to the man behind you. “My hero.” The smirk on your face was genuine, even if your tone erred on the side of sarcasm.
“Hey, no problem [Y/F/N].” God, the way he said your name… Clearing your throat as you settled against the far wall, you did your best to continue the conversation.
“Why are you up so early?” “Figured you’d be sleeping while you could.” Jared shrugged his massive shoulders before answering.
“Went for a run. Couldn’t sleep.” You wanted to ask why. You wanted to ask a lot of things, but instead you kept to yourself. He likely had his reasons, and you’d be willing to bet - if he was anything like you, that he wasn’t keen on sharing the details of his life with a relative stranger. Nodding in understanding, you turned back to the counter, gathering the three drink trays and rearranging the cups so each carrier held the same size. Stacking the grandes atop the venti order, you slid the coffees into one hand, grabbing the third tray with your free arm.
“I can carry one if you want..” Jared was at your side again, talking to you as if he wasn’t a gorgeous, successful actor with his own security detail. Speaking of which, where was Clif?
“Uh, nah..I’m okay.” Scoffing, the man saw right through your feeble attempt to decline. Removing the top tray from where it rested under your chin and taking the second one as well, he simply smiled. “Lead the way [Y/F/N].”
There was something about her that occupied Jared’s thoughts. She was strong, sure of herself (or so it seemed) and gracious. He wanted to know more. “So, [Y/F/N] where are you from?”
The chill bite of a fall day in the Pacific Northwest swirled around your body when the two of you stepped from the relatively warm coffee shop. Breath fogging in the early morning air, the small-talk you made with Jared as you crossed the street to the hotel gave you a small look inside the finer points of Austin, his hobbies and the show. Back in the green room, you passed out drinks to their respective owners, everyone murmuring their appreciation to you for your efforts. Pulling the phone from your back pocket and realizing it was nearly time for the Sunday morning gold panel, you ushered Jared and Jensen out the door as politely as you could.
Grabbing two mics from the table set-up behind the stage curtains, you handed one to each of the boys and turned to leave. Jared’s hand on your shoulder made you freeze momentarily, more out of habit than anything. Apparently it didn’t matter who it was, the discomfort of being touched still prevailed.
“Thanks for the chat [Y/F/N], we’ll talk more later?” Searching his face for any hint of what was going through his mind, you nodded numbly. A wide smile spread across his face as he squeezed your shoulder before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. Wild cheers assaulted your ears as the gold members screamed for their first panel of the day.
The voices of Rob and Rich joking with Jensen buzzed in Jared’s ear, but his thoughts were still on [Y/F/N]. She’d flinched when he had touched her shoulder. Whatever made her react that way, he hoped it was something she’d be willing to talk to him about. For the hundreds of people who thanked him on a daily basis for noticing their struggles and standing in solidarity with them, he knew there were many others who couldn’t bring themselves to share.
Before you realized it, the afternoon autograph sessions were scheduled to start. Walking through the main theater hall, your most recent task was simple enough: Provide each of the guests with a handful of colorful sharpies at their table. The headphones connected to the phone in your pocket piped Swain music into your ears and you danced happily while completing the mundane task. You’d do this job full-time if you could.
“Oh, there you are!” Turning abruptly, you pulled the cords from your ears, effectively silencing the indie rock as Derek strode up to you.
“Ms. [Y/L/N], did you receive my text message? You’re wanted in Adam’s office as soon as possible!” His blue eyes searched yours frantically, even while you became acutely aware of your quickening heartbeat.
“Oh, uhm..do you know why?” The man shook his head as he hurried away, staring intently at the clipboard clutched in his hands. A million scenarios chased themselves through your mind; the least of which involved the numerous bottles of tums you were sure Derek consumed regularly. Walking through the side doors and turning down the long hallway where the convention offices were set up, you busied yourself with the pattern beneath your feet. There were fifty-two blue diamonds set into the grey carpet between the main theater and Adam’s office. After several deep breaths, you squared your shoulders and rose your fist to knock on the oak door. The sound of a chair tracking across the floor echoed from behind the barrier and when the door opened, you were surprised to see the man still sitting.
“Ah, Ms. [Y/L/N], do come in.” Following him inside, you paused to close the door at Adam’s insistence.
“Ms. [Y/L/N], it appears we need to have a chat.” Shifting uneasily just inside the door, you tried to still the worried thoughts still cavorting in your subconscious.
“Is something wrong sir?” Adam barked out a laugh and you were disappointed when you jumped at his tone.
“Quite, the opposite actually.” The man still sat in the office chair, his head thrown back as it swirled in lazy circles. “We’ve had a request to add you to our permanent staff.” He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Furrowing your brows, you tried to think of a reason why, or, for that matter who’d sent such a request. Sure, you had thought about talking to Adam about the possibility, but you hadn’t made any solid plans to do so.
“Can I ask by who?” Maybe Derek? I mean, he’s really the only staff member I’ve interacted with on a regular basis this weekend. Stephanie perhaps? Adam chuckled to himself and shook his head, his eyes bright.
“Mr. Padalecki has asked for you personally.” Of all the people you thought might’ve suggested it, Jared certainly hadn’t even come close to making the list. You were quiet as you absorbed the information. Looking up at Adam as his chair lazily swayed behind the card-table turned makeshift desk, you cleared your throat.
“Did he...did he say...why?” The little conversation you’d had with Jared this weekend had been pleasant enough, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d make such a request.
“We discussed it.” “Suffice it to say he is impressed with your dedication to the job.” “This opportunity doesn’t present itself often Ms. [Y/F/N], strictly because exactly zero personal requests have occurred. Like, ever. I’ve been doing this a long, long time...and this is a first.” “Usually we staff the more experienced volunteers as handlers, it just so happened that our senior team member bowed out with the flu this weekend and you were the first person Derek saw upon finding out.” “Simply a ‘right place at the right time’ kind of scenario.” “Jared came to me earlier today after his gold panel and asked about you.” Shrugging, the black suit jacket he’d pulled on over his grey t-shirt bunched at the seams. “That’s all I know.” “Think about it Ms. [Y/L/N].” Nodding slowly, you turned, grabbing the overly shiny brass door handle to let yourself out.
“Oh, and [Y/F/N]?” Looking back over your shoulder at Adam as he started gathering papers together, you paused; “Jared’s about to start his autographing sessions, I suggest you make haste.”
Relief and terror fought their way through your chest. When he'd left moments before, you'd assumed it would be the last time you'd see him. Sure, he seemed genuine in the time you'd spent together, and yeah, Adam had summoned you to his office, all but offering you a permanent position with the company - but still. Some part of you had decided that the entire thing had only existed in your mind. You'd actually half expected to wake up in your bed to the screeching of the alarm - chalking it up to simply a nice dream.
But he was there. Really there. The hand holding his phone starting to droop, the expression on his face conflicted. Did you want to exchange phone numbers? What could it hurt? These thoughts swirled around in your consciousness, and while it had seemed as if an eternity had passed, in reality it had been only seconds.
“Oh, uh, su-sure Jared.” A hesitant smile lit up your eyes and you retreated further into the room, holding the door open in invitation.
After a moment's hesitation, he followed you - choosing to lean his lanky frame against the door. Half in, half out. Like he wasn't fully sure if you were inviting him in or not. Hair fell over your eyes as you bent double, grabbing a thin black cord from the floor beside your bed. Following it up the side of the mattress to disappear under one haphazardly strewn pillow you found your phone; a small green charging light illuminating the darkness.
Spinning to face him once more, your phone held out in exchange for his, you dialed your number into his contacts list.
After reclaiming your device, the two of you just kind of stood there - neither sure what to say. The silence became nearly palpable. Clearing his throat, Jared's brow furrowed for a moment before smiling down at you.
“I'll uh..I'll text you. Kay?”
Nodding mutely, you couldn't quite understand what was happening here.
“Sure. Well, uhm, goodnight Jared.” Moving back towards the door, you watched as he turned, grabbing the solid wood barrier as he stepped back into the hallway.
“Night [Y/F/N]”
*****
The following week was back to business as usual. And, as expected, the grey walls surrounding your cubicle matched too well with the grey weather outside. Glancing out the window across the room, rain pounded the glass, the trees bending against the onslaught of the wind.
Usually, you loved this weather. You loved living here, but for some reason, something felt off tonight.
With a resigned sigh, you rolled the desk chair back into your workspace and pulled up your email.
The refreshed inbox now held a single composition. It was from Adam.
Eyes widening, you glanced furtively around, on the lookout for anyone's prying eyes. Personal business on company time was greatly frowned upon.
Maneuvering the non-descript grey mouse to hover over the message, you took a deep breath and clicked. Closing your eyes for a few moments, you steeled yourself for rejection. He'd probably changed his mind. After all, he'd said it himself, not many people had been brought in by special request.
Lifting your eyes to the screen, you scanned the document - searching for the words of regret. Searching for your dismissal.
It wasn't there.
It was, instead, a formal offer.
The contract detailed everything from your anticipated responsibilities to your travel schedule and their proposed salary. While the offer was generous - there was also the stipulation that you'd have to relocate. To California, where Creation held it's offices.
Perusing the remainder of the email, you noted fine print at the very bottom:
“Applicant has three business days to respond to first offer. If no contact is made – company has full power to revoke the proposal at any point.”
Three days?! The thudding in your chest picked up speed. A sideways glance to the corner of the monitor gave you pause. It was Tuesday. They expected your response by Friday. Did that mean, if you were to accept the terms that you’d be out of this miserable place by then?
Being a creature of habit, you really weren’t sure you could decide that quickly. Only an hour ago, you’d been convinced the offer wasn’t going to come. Three days ago, you hadn’t even met Jared in person. Now you were faced with one of the biggest decisions of your life. On a very tight deadline. Sweat dotted your forehead even though your skin was cool to the touch. Folding your arms across the top of the formica desktop, you lowered your forehead to rest upon them.
In. Out. In….out.
“What are you doing Ms. [Y/L/N]?”
Startled out of your position, you spun around in the mesh chair, coming face to face with the sour-expression of Mr. Blaine – department supervisor. Flanking him, a stern-looking woman in a boxy polyester three-piece grimaced. To her right, Ted, the loveable bear of a security guard for your building stood quietly; hands clasped over each other. He wouldn’t even look at you.
“Wha..what’s going on?” Fear boiled in your gut. While you’d never been in trouble at work, nor had you ever been approached by anyone in this fashion. There was a current of tension in the small space. Coworkers surreptitiously peered around the corners of their own workspace; ears open for any tidbits of gossip that might make their day more interesting.
“Ms. [Y/L/N], if you would please follow us?”
Standing from your chair, the squeak of the plastic frame was thunderous in your mind, prickling dots of adrenaline present in your extremities as you followed along after Mr. Blaine, the remainder of the small troupe hovered around you and all you could see were sharks circling a potential meal.
The walk down the hallway to the elevator was awkward. The ride down the lift silent; a monotone buzz of the single light inside the only disturbance.
Hinges protested with a squeal as the heavy steel doors slid open, your procession filing out silently around you. Approaching the HR department, your mind kicked into overdrive. Had you done something wrong? To your knowledge, nothing was amiss – hell, you’d never even called in sick.
Leaning over her desk and selecting a large manila envelope from a stack inside her inbox, the woman turned to face you. A heavy sigh slipped from her pursed lips, replaced quickly by a ridged, flat line. She was un-amused.
“Ms. [Y/L/N], we regret to inform you, that effective immediately, your services are no longer required at this agency.” “Please accept this severance package with our sincerest apologies.”
Trailing off, her eyes were wide – her breath now held in her chest. Waiting for the backlash. Waiting for you to react. You could almost see the fear in her expression. You almost felt sorry for the woman, it wasn’t her fault that firing people was part of her job description, although you had the very distinct impression that she had no idea about it either. Eyes darting back to the considerable stack of identical packages that she’d selected yours from, the realization that you weren’t the only one this would happen to was immediate.
“Ca-can I ask why?” While not timid, your tone was still just above a whisper – confusion laced through the words you uttered.
“Unfortunately, Ms. [Y/L/N] – the company was sold last week. They’re moving the headquarters to another location…” Glancing across the room to Mr. Blaine, currently slumped against the wall, hands buried deep in the pockets of his dress pants – you noticed, for the first time his unkempt hair and loose tie. He’d been putting on a show in front of your co-workers. This was affecting him too, so it seemed.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, the exhaustion and worry were evident in his expression.
“So, this isn’t because I did something wrong?” You were careful how you worded the question. While you hadn’t been able to place why they might be letting you go, neither did you want them to think you had a reason.
“No, unfortunately. You haven’t been the first this week, and…you’re not likely to be the last.” “I’m really, very sorry. I do wish you the best of luck Ms. [Y/L/N].” Holding his hand out, Mr. Blaine fixed you with a look that was, quite likely, the closest thing to you’d ever seen to sincerity.
And so, for the first time in several years, you found yourself home in the middle of the afternoon – with nothing to do but wonder where your life was about to go. At least you had options.
So, with a deep breath, you pulled your laptop from the couch, opened the email you had received earlier from Adam and accepted the offer – proposing a meeting over lunch to discuss details and to hopefully convince him that you didn’t -need- to live in California to fulfill this role.
SUMMARY: When reader isn’t attending a Supernatural Convention, she’s preparing for the next one. Staying busy is the only thing that keeps her sane. While it’s difficult for some people to understand her motives, one person will show her that he knows exactly what she’s going through. Will Jared be able to make the reader believe she deserves to be loved or is she too far gone already?
CHAPTER WARNINGS: Anxious Reader, Touch Aversion, Inner Mean Girl
In through your nose...out through your mouth.
A skin-numbing tingle spread through your limbs, your mind swimming with the implications of Jared’s request as you shuffled down the hallway stretching through the quiet hotel. New knots twisted themselves into a worrisome frenzy the closer you came to the large theater room where autographs were scheduled to take place. Your hands trembled just slightly. Clenching your cold fingers into fists and with the aid of several more deep breaths you found yourself pushing through the anxiety threatening to debilitate you.
Familiar black curtains were erected in each of the four corners of the ballroom. Low-hanging chandeliers cast a warm glow over each station. You knew Jared sat behind one of those panels. You knew you’d have to join him - acting as if everything was normal. As if you did this all the time.
But then again, maybe you were overthinking the situation. It's not like he'd confessed his undying love for you. Maybe he just appreciated that you were a hard worker? His compliment from the previous day floated back through your subconscious and your cheeks flushed with a sudden warmth.
Steeling your nerves, you quietly slipped through the crowds of people all chatting amongst themselves, their faces lit with excitement as they waited for their time in front of the guests.
With a final deep breath, straightening your posture to appear as tall and confident as possible, you proceeded to walk through the last few bodies as you approached Clif, knowing well enough that if he was around, Jared and Jensen weren’t far away.
As luck would have it, you had chosen the correct table and the smile you plastered across your face was mostly genuine as Jared came into view.
He’d begun signing moments before; a young girl with wide eyes clutching a cardboard poster tube with white knuckles-stood before him, her breathing quick and shallow.
Looking up from where he’d scribbled his signature in the lower left of the glossy print on the table, he’d started to slide the picture back across to her when he paused, bending over the print of the impala before furiously scribbling a message that personalized his signature. A breathless nod of thanks was uttered as the girls’ eyes shone with unshed tears. You could see how hard she was trying to hold back her emotions as she slipped away.
“[Y/F/N]! Standing suddenly, the giant man skirted the table and wrapped his arms around you. Instantly, you froze. Eyes wide, back stiff, your haphazard pat to the back didn’t go unnoticed and Jared pulled away suddenly, realizing how uncomfortable you obviously were.
“Oh, I’m so sorry - I was just happy to see you.” Hurriedly you waved off the unease you’d felt. Sure, it was Jared Padalecki that had just crushed you against his very solid chest, but it had still been unexpected and you’d yet to find a way to convince yourself that hugs were okay.
Truth was, you craved them. You needed to be touched almost as much as you needed to eat, or sleep. It’d been so long since you’d experienced any kind of real affection however, and you weren’t sure how to react.
To most people, a simple hug was nothing...merely a greeting perhaps. But your conscience went into overdrive at a moments’ notice. How long were you supposed to hold on? Was this a genuine hug or simply an awkward, superficial gesture of a typical human hello? Your reaction was always delayed, and most people would’ve stepped back and moved on to conversation by the time you’d had the opportunity to return the embrace. What you wouldn’t give to have someone really hold you. To take a full minute and just envelope you in a blanket of comfort. No agenda, no awkwardness - just comfort. As you began to focus, you noticed Jared had returned to his seat, the next few people in line curiously looking between you and him - likely trying to figure out if there was some new story worthy of a late-night Twitter discussion.
“Be normal. Just move to your chair and smile. Just smile. Smiling is what they expect. Ask how they’re doing. This is fine.” The narration played in a loop through your mind as you quietly took your seat. Turning to the next person in line, you forced yourself to do just that, the more agreeable expression replacing the lost look of moments before.
“Hi!” Reaching forward, you carefully took an electric guitar from a middle-aged blonde that stood before you. Gingerly, you set it on the deep red linens covering the table and handed Jared a gold sharpie, captivated as the metallic ink flowed over the polished black body of the instrument. Taking a moment to admire the other signatures she’d collected, Jared spoke for a few moments about how it was a really neat item to have signed, asking the woman why she’d picked a guitar. While you’d never worked with or near anyone of even remote celebrity status, you were pleased with how engaged Jared was with his fans. He seemed to genuinely care about the people patiently waiting to speak with him and, for a moment you forgot that he was an actor. Thinking, you realized you’d like to know what he was like everyday. There were stories on the internet about his generosity and seemingly real interest in the people who looked up to him. But to witness it in person was a completely different thing.
The following two hours passed in a similar fashion. At one point, you took a moment to look around the edge of the draped wall. A lot of people still waited in line, their expressions varying from excitement to exhaustion and everything in-between. What surprised you most however, was that Jared was the last guest still in the room. Volunteers were chatting with each other as curtains were folded and stacked in totes and the frames surrounding the folding tables were disassembled. Jensen and Misha must’ve been long gone.
Eventually, Jared came to his last autograph of the evening.
“Hey there, thank you so much for waiting this long for me!” As tired as he had to be, Jared didn’t even think about letting his exhaustion show. Speaking the longest to this particular young man seemed important. Technically, as his handler it was your job to move things along as efficiently as possible, but it was the end of the night. You were tired, no one was waiting and this interaction seemed to be a once-in-a-lifetime event for most people. Who were you to rush it?
A short time later, you rose from your seat, fully intending on calling it a night. While it hadn’t seemed much like a fourteen-hour day, your body was sternly reminding you that you were, in fact, no longer a teenager that could run on two hours of sleep.
Stacking the cold plastic chair atop the others lined against one wall, you turned to head for the doors, removing the thin black lanyard from around your neck. You wanted nothing more than to blend back into the crowd, to become just another person, to not explain that the bathroom was, in fact, twenty feet back in the opposite direction for the five hundredth time.
Just as you reached for the lock-bar stretching across the double wooden doors of the theater, you turned to find Jared saying his own goodbyes to the crew.
“Hey, [Y/F/N], wait up!”
Had it been -anyone else- you might’ve pretended you couldn’t hear them. Ignoring Jared wasn’t an option however. You’d never forgive yourself. So, instead of pretending, you turned to see the man literally jogging up to you. “How did he have so much energy after such a long day?” Briefly wondering, you realized you could actually ask him that very question.
“Ha, uh..I dunno. Guess I’m still running on adrenaline?”
“Ahunh, well, you’ll hafta tell me how you do that sometime.” A tired smirk accompanied your reply and you realized that you’d missed what he’d said afterwards.
“What was that?” “Sorry, guess I’m a little slow tonight.” Nervous laughter took the edge off of your words.
“I asked if you wanted to maybe get a drink?”
“Mr. Padalecki, you realize it’s like..oh.” Pulling the phone from your pocket to check the time, you had the decency to blush when you realized it was still fairly early.
“What?” Wow, his smile really was infectious. “Crap, stop staring [Y/F/N], focus!” Clearing your throat, you took a moment to gather some sort of order to your scattered thoughts.
“I was gonna scold you for wanting to go out so late..but then I realized it’s only nine o’clock.”
“Sooo…?” It was then that you were made blatantly aware of why the Supernatural Family referred to him as an overgrown puppy.
How often would this situation come up? After this weekend, you’d go back to your normal nine to five in your hometown. Back to the office. Back to traffic. Back to complacency.
“Uh, sure. I guess one drink can’t hurt.” Grinning, you pushed your weight against the door leading into the corridor connecting the theater to the green room. Grabbing your bag from the carpet next to one of the overstuffed armchairs, you promised to meet Jared back here after changing into something a little less work and a little more appropriate for a night out.
“I look forward to it, [Y/F/N] - meet me here in..say...thirty?” Glancing at his watch, the man sank into the deep blue cushions of a long couch, slouching and raising his feet to rest upon the solid wood coffee table arranged in front of it. With another wide smile, he pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly becoming lost in what you assumed to be his social media feed as you made a hasty retreat to your room, not realizing just how much everything was about to change.
As you stepped from the elevator, after casting a cursory glance over both shoulders to make sure no one was around, the sprint to your room at the end of the hall left you breathless with excitement.
Checking the time and setting yourself an alarm, you quickly began to rummage through the mess of a suitcase that sat haphazardly at the end of your bed. Today was the last day of the convention and you'd had no plans on doing anything remotely exciting, least of all spending the night having drinks with Jared Padalecki.
Throwing off the stiff, black t-shirt you'd worn all day, you stood there in little more than your underwear, trying to decide what to wear.
The fifteen-minute warning sounded from your phone and panic tried to set in. Muttering to yourself, you hastily grabbed an oversized, cream-colored, off-shoulder sweater and a pair of black leggings. There was no time for anything fancy and this wasn't a date. For some reason you had to keep reminding yourself of that little detail.
Freshening up your smeared eyeliner and swiping on some new deodorant was the best you could do as the five-minute warning sounded.
This time, you couldn't care less if people saw you sprinting through the halls of the hotel - you weren't about to make Jared wait.
With ten seconds to spare, you arrived back at the green room, taking a moment to collect your senses before calmly pushing open the door to where Jared sat waiting.
Looking up from his phone at the sound of the metal latch clicking open, Jared could only smile. [Y/F/N] looked beautiful. The stretchy black material of her leggings clung to every curve of her hips; small triangles of mesh strategically lining the length of the pants hinted at the beauty lying hidden beneath. [Y/F/N]’s hair framed her face perfectly; the fluffy sweater she'd chosen artfully draped across her bare shoulders was meant to be comforting, he was willing to bet. He was intimately familiar with anxiety, seeking comfort from inanimate objects helped ground him when he was struggling too.
He wanted to tell her she was beautiful. He wanted to show her she was beautiful. But instead, he smiled, hoping she'd realize how genuine it was.
“Hey, [Y/F/N].” His voice was soft in its greeting. “Ready for that drink?”
With a deep breath, you nodded, a bright smile lighting up your [Y/E/C] eyes.
Watching Jared haul himself up from the low couch would have been amusing if he weren't so graceful. But, he pulled it off with an elegance you weren't used to seeing in most men.
The hotel bar was bustling with groups of people winding down from a busy weekend. How the two of you managed to snag a booth in the back corner was a bit of a mystery, though you weren't about to question his methods. Approaching the dimly lit table, you felt Jared slow, stepping aside and gesturing for you to go ahead. Silently grateful, you slid into the wide cushioned bench, instantly more comfortable with your back pressed to the wall.
Flicking his eyes between the open seat next to you and the one across the table, he carefully slid his large frame into the opposite seat. Glancing back over his shoulder, he took a deep breath before turning to face you; his broad shoulders angling to slot themselves into the very corner of his booth.
An hour into the night, you were finally beginning to relax. The double whiskey you sipped likely helping you feel more comfortable, though it too, could have just been Jared. He didn't seem to have an agenda, and he listened to you with as much focus as he gave anyone else. The conversation flowed easily and you sat perched on the edge of your seat, enraptured with one of his stories from set.
Once again, you noticed him glancing around the room before trying to sit deeper into the corner of his seat. Twenty minutes prior, he'd turned, reclining his legs in front of him on the bench, twisting his upper body to still face you.
Scrunching your face into a concerned arrangement of apprehension, the mean-girl living in the recesses of your mind sprang to life. “He just feels sorry for you, why else would he have asked you to drinks? He's way out of your league, just look, he's clearly not having a very good time…”
Clearing your throat, you spoke up, surprised at how even your tone was despite the disappointment and embarrassment you felt.
“Hey, Jared. Are you okay? I mean, you really don't have to hang out with me...you just..I mean..you seem pretty uncomfortable.”
His gaze landed back on you and his heart ached at the thought that you thought he pitied you.
“Wha-? No! I…”
Leaning forward he reached out with one hand, intent on grasping the fingers of your hand that wasn't cradling your glass tumbler. At the last moment, he hesitated, pulling back to put his hand in his lap. Looking down at where he fidgeted with a loose string on his shirt, you marvelled at his beautiful coppery hair as it fell around his face.
“Heh, you're probably going to think I'm silly, it's just…”
Another deep breath escaped with a huff before he glanced back up to meet your concerned face.
“I'm really anxious about sitting with my back to people.” The words came out in a rush, and he was back to looking everywhere but at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to maintain his composure.
You sat there for a minute, stunned by his confession. You knew he struggled with his own inner demons, but to see him fully able to tell you about his discomfort with a situation when he barely knew you was kind of inspiring. If Jared Padalecki could talk (mostly) confidently about his struggles, maybe you could too.
For a moment, you considered what to say next. While your mind still weighed your options, your mouth clearly had other ideas and you were surprised as the words tumbled forth, “you could come sit on this side with me..uh..if you want.”
“Shit. Uh. Well, guess that’s out there. Be cool. It’s fine if he says no. Just breathe…”
Letting out a slow breath, you put your smile back on and hoped it reached your eyes.
Jared was surprised. “Oh. Uh, are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I think I’ve done that enough for one day, ha..” Fidgeting, he clapped a large hand to the back of his neck, his gaze averted as he remembered quite nearly knocking you over in his exuberance earlier.
Were you sure? Yes. Yes, you were sure.
“Yes.” That same smile still in place, you patted the seat next to you and watched as the man slid across the seat, rose and cautiously lowered himself into the space next to you. Not realizing the breath you held until your lungs started to scream for air, inch by inch you relaxed. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood settled over you as Jared got comfortable, one knee pressing against your left thigh. A light twist of summery pineapple and pear rounded out what would become a very intoxicating scent.
Turning to lean against the corner of the booth, you were careful to maintain the light touch between your bodies - this time, the smile on your face - though hesitant - was one-hundred percent real.
As the clock approached midnight, you began to dread the end of your conversation. Nothing could last forever, and this had been one of the best nights you’d had in a very long time. Trying your best to stifle a yawn - and failing miserably, you might add - Jared chuckled under his breath “I guess I should let you get to sleep, don’t want you turning into a pumpkin.”
“Aha, yes, very funny Mr. Padaleski.” Jared rolled his eyes when you drug the syllables of his incorrectly-pronounced name out in jest. “Just because I like pumpkin flavored liqueur, doesn’t mean I’m gonna turn into one!”
“At any rate, I should get going anyhow. My plane leaves in a few hours and I’ve gotta be ready to start filming very shortly afterwards.” The exhaustion was evident in his features, but his tired smile was comforting, nonetheless.
When he made no move to let you out of the booth, you almost didn’t say anything. But, he was right. Besides, who were you to keep him here? He’d already lost out on a full nights’ sleep because of you.
“Here, let me walk you back to your room?” Sliding from his side of the booth, he turned and reached a hand out to help you. There was no hesitation when you grasped his warm fingers and allowed him to pull you from your seat.
“You really don’t have to walk me back, I’m sure you’ve much better things to do - like sleep?”
“Well, maybe I want to walk you back." Hurriedly, he added “If you want... besides, I can sleep when I’m dead.” A quiet huff of laughter softened the statement. Relenting, you fell into step next to the taller man as the last minutes of your night out ticked away.
Too soon you stood in front of the door to your hotel room. In a few minutes, you’d have to say goodbye - unlikely to ever have this moment again. Sure, Jared had asked specifically for you to be his assigned handler for conventions, but Adam hadn’t officially offered you the position. You had a lot to think about. While the answer seemed easy enough, it would likely be anything but. You were a creature of habit, often shying away from change and the unknown.
“So..I guess this is goodnight...goodbye even.” Jared’s words trailed off and you picked up on the distinct impression that he wanted to say something else.
“So, rather than tackling you head-on, I’d very much like a hug goodnight. Would that be okay?”
Jared’s eyes widened in surprise, but rather than answering, he simply opened his arms - allowing you to come to him.
Reminding yourself to breathe, you stepped forward into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist and turning your head to press your ear to his chest. The warmth of his scent washed over you as he held you to him, his chin resting atop your head. The sure, thick, beating of his heart had just started to help loosen the tension singing through your veins when your brain started screaming at you to back away. “That’s enough [Y/F/N], let the poor guy go! Why are you still hugging him?!”
Hurriedly, you removed your arms, intent on listening to that voice and stepping back from Jared. Intent on escaping through the thick barrier of a door and back into the comfort of your own world. With a resigned sigh, he loosened his grip and let you go. Instantly, your body temperature seemed to drop, even though it certainly wasn’t cold in the hallway where the two of you stood.
“Well...goodnight [Y/F/N], I had an amazing time and I hope you have a wonderful night. Sleep well..” With a final flash of his bright smile, Jared turned, his long legs carrying him down the hallway and to the elevator.
Disappearing behind the heavy door of your hotel, you slumped against the wood - sliding down to rest on the floor and allow yourself to breathe again. A flood of emotions from the previous several hours assaulted you all at once.
Wrapping arms around your knees, forehead resting against your chilled skin, a heavy sigh slid between your lips as you began to decompress.
The quiet sound of knuckles against the door behind you went unnoticed at first. Only when the sound became more insistent did you get to your feet. Bracing yourself against the door and peering through the peep-hole you couldn’t see anything. Turning the brushed-nickel handle as quietly as possible, you pulled open the door to see Jared sauntering away from you.
“Jared?!” Your tone might have been incredulous but you were in disbelief that he’d come back. Slowing, the man turned to face you, hesitating before his approach.
When he had reached your side, one hand slid back into his hair as he nervously avoided looking directly at you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, expectant.
“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you.” “I was wondering…-reaching into his pocket, he pulled an iPhone out and handed it to you - a shy smile hesitant on his face.
“...would you maybe...want to exchange phone numbers?”
A/N: Here's chapter 12 to the collaboration @natasha-cole and I are writing - enjoy!
With a reassuring pat on your shoulder, Kim smiled before pulling open the door to the ladies’ room. Bri, ever the optimist, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked out with you. Bidding you good-night and good luck, the two of them sauntered back over to the decidedly smaller group of people they’d been sitting with earlier.
Wandering back over to the couch with the conversation you’d just had with the girls still fresh in your mind, you began to gather your things, fully intent on heading back to your room.
Rob’s tired smile greeted you from where he still sat on the couch. Lifting himself from the cushions, he raised his arms, stretching while trying to stifle a yawn.
Realizing your own exhaustion, you glanced at the phone in your hand to see how late it was. The screen read three-forty-five. How you’d managed to stay awake this long, you weren’t sure. Though it may have had something to do with the company you’d kept and the conversations you’d had in the several hours that had passed since you’d followed Kim up from the green room.
“I don’t know how you guys do this every weekend.” Smiling at the man in front of you when he reached for your hand, the question in your eyes was undeniable as his warm fingers laced themselves through yours.
“You get used to it, or rather, some of us do. We see each other a lot, but Saturday nights – everyone is so hyped up after the concert that we couldn’t sleep right away if we tried.”
Nodding your understanding as the two of you made your way to the door, you let his answer sink in. He must have mistook your silence for discomfort however, and as his thumb smoothed over your knuckles, you were brought back to the present.
“You okay?” Concern mingled with the fatigue on his face, and you smiled. The idea that someone could read you well enough to tell the difference between your being tired and upset was a new idea for you. For a moment, you considered just talking to him right then. The halls were quiet as he walked you back towards your room, but the thought was brief. You knew you’d rather be completely present for the conversation you’d be having with both him and Chris. Squeezing his hand, you nodded.
“Just tired. I don’t think I’ve been up this late in ten years.” “I’m actually debating whether it’s even worth it to sleep at this point.”
Rubbing your free hand across your face, the small movement seemed to bring with it the full weight of your exhaustion.
“Trust me, you’re going to want to sleep as much as you can. Don’t wanna show up for work in the morning and not be at the top of your game. It’s J2 day after all.”
Nudging your shoulder as the two of you approached your door, Rob stopped short, pulling you around and into a sweet hug. The steady beating in his chest threatening to make you fall asleep standing right where you were. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he smiled sleepily.
“Get some sleep, [Y/F/N] – I’ll see you tomorrow. Or…rather, later today.”
Nodding to yourself, but finding it difficult to move away from his embrace, you finally sighed and unlocked your door. With a final glance, Rob said goodbye and turned to walk back down the hallway.
Having zero energy to change into different clothes, you fell face-first into the mediocre hotel bed, asleep before you could even think about anything that had transpired tonight.
****
A frenzied knocking at the door pulled you from a deep sleep. Squinting against the early morning sun streaming through the window, you hoped the noise had been part of your dream. Closing your eyes to try and recapture it proved futile as the insistent interruption sounded again.
If only you'd given whoever stood on the other side of that door a spare key, you wouldn't have to get out of bed.
Wishful thinking on your part.
The next round of knocking came with the muffled sound of your name. Not wanting to disturb the people who were likely trying to sleep in on the final day of their weekend, you begrudgingly extracted yourself from the nest of blankets and crossed the room to the door. Pulling it open amidst yet another flurry of knocking, you were surprised to see Kim and Briana standing on the other side.
Craning their heads to look over your shoulder, Briana brushed past you into the room while Kim started immediately with rapid fire questions.
"Good morning, Sunshine!" "How ya feeling?"
"We brought coffee, and not that gross hotel sludge they so generously offer for free, but the real stuff. The good stuff."
"You like coffee right?"
Nodding with a barely disguised grumble of affirmation, you could only smile as the women both grimaced good-naturedly.
"Yikes, rough night?"
"...you're uh, you're not hiding anyone under the bed or in the closet are you?"
The last teasing remark was the first thing Briana had said to you, and honestly, the first thing that even remotely registered as a question needing answered.
Standing to one side so Kim could squeeze past, you turned, still wrapped in the duvet as the door clicked shut behind you.
"Definitely not."
Sipping at the bold flavors of the latte Kim had given you, the surprised glance shared between the other two women went unnoticed.
"Well, uh, have you talked to them yet?"
Glancing at Briana, her gaze was still on Kim even though she had spoken to you.
Turning your attention to the other woman, your eyes narrowed upon noticing the poorly concealed consternation Kim wore on her face.
"No….why?” Setting the coffee on the bedside table, attention now fully on the girls, you crossed your arms under your chest, alternating your attention between them, hoping one of them was about to start talking.
"Uh, well, funny you should ask...but uh...we..erm.."
Briana was stalling, shooting furtive glances to her friend, silently asking for help.
"We can't find Chris. We thought maybe…"
Waffling her hands in the air, her very pointed expression made it clear why they were at your room at nine am.
Choking on a sip of the coffee you'd picked back up, you took a moment to wipe the back of a hand across your chin.
"And..what, you thought he'd be here?!"
Scrunching up her face, Kim shrugged before nodding vigorously.
"I'm not sure whether to be offended or flattered." A snort of laughter followed the statement, but you weren't really upset.
"I mean, I guess I can understand why you guys would think to come here but I haven't seen Chris since last night."
"Rob walked me back to my room and then I crashed. As you can see, I didn't even change."
Skirting the bed to pick up your phone from the dresser, you flicked open the screen. There were no messages or missed calls.
"I'll shoot him a text and--"
"We've all done that. Went to his room too." Briana said the words softly, as if she wasn't sure how you'd take the news.
"Yeah, but maybe Chris will answer [Y/F/N]. Couldn't hurt anyways." Kim pointed out.
"I mean...it is still really early. Hell, I've only slept five hours myself. Are you guys sure he's not just passed out in his room?"
Typing out a quick good morning text, asking Chris if he wanted to meet for lunch, you set the phone back down on the dresser.
"Chris is always the first one up. Dude is awake before the birds, regardless of how late he stayed out the night before." Kim went on to explain that nobody had heard from him since he'd left the party last night.
"I'm sure he's fine. Really...he's a big boy, he can take care of himself."
"The convention doesn't start for another few hours, right? I bet he'll be back before the first set of photo ops. He's probably just getting breakfast or something."
****
Following the girls downstairs after you'd taken the time to shower and brush your teeth - which went a remarkably long way towards feeling like a functioning human again - the vendors room caught your eye.
"I'll catch up later guys, I'm gonna check this out."
Ducking into the adjacent hallway, several tables were spread across the space. Arranged amongst the typical t-shirt vendors, artists sold everything from paintings to jewelry to custom figurines.
Selecting a tote bag and several CD's from the Louden Swain merchandise table, you were paying for your selections when a familiar voice caught your attention.
"Yeah, that's her."
"I don't know, but he's been really different this weekend. It's like he doesn't even see us now that she's around."
The conversation was all hushed tones and urgent whispers, and it was clear that whoever the woman was talking to was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep her voice down.
You weren't typically one to eavesdrop on others discussions but it was pretty clear you were part of it. Plus, they were talking about Chris. Maybe they knew where he was.
Before you had a chance to ask them, the two women walked away, leaving you to wonder what they were talking about.
"Don't pay them any mind, unfortunately, gossip spreads like wildfire around here and since you're the new girl, you're the hot topic of the weekend."
Sitting diagonally from where you stood, a girl smiled at you from behind her booth. Approaching her table, you took note of the stylized art of the guests, lined up next to a large, incredibly detailed portrait of Rob.
"Wow, this is really amazing."
Bending over to study the color palette she'd chosen to use, you'd intended to take her observation with a grain of salt. She, however didn't appear to be finished.
"You seem cool enough though. You're pretty talented with that camera of yours. Chris talks about you often."
There was no hint of jealousy or mockery in her words, and her neutral expression seemed friendly enough.
"You guys are friends?" "Have you seen him today?"
The woman shrugged nonchalantly.
"I suppose? He and I have been at the same conventions for several years, and we take great delight in annoying each other - but aside from that?"
Bending over her notebook, she went back to working on her drawing.
Taking note of the fact that she hadn't really answered either of your questions, you were just about to look through her portfolio when your phone rang.
"Hey, did you guys find him?" "Oh...really? And what time does it start? Damnit. Ok, I'll be there in a sec."
Dropping the device back into your pocket, you said a hurried goodbye and made a beeline for the door.
It was nearing eleven o'clock, when a line of people would be waiting for their photo ops with Jensen. Hurrying to the room, when you arrived and the space was silent, concern really started to set in.
Chris had never missed a Creation event since he'd started. Well over a hundred events and he'd always shown up. You could only hope today wouldn't change that.
Approximately fifty people were already milling about outside of the quiet space, volunteers trying to herd them back into the auditorium.
"Guys, please return to the theater - we'll be calling Jensen's photo ops in groups of fifty to a hundred at a time."
"Chris hasn't even set up for the day please go back to your seats."
You made a mental note to thank the volunteers at some point today, they really were the backbone of these conventions.
Slipping through the door, you were quick to flip the light switches. The silence and the dark were too much together when you'd only ever seen the room brightly lit and loud.
Figuring the least you could do was start setting up, you made the rounds, checking that lights were connected, the printers were turned on and the marks on the floor didn't need refreshing. Chris's equipment wasn't in the room, but then you hadn't really expected him to leave it overnight.
Checking your phone once more, it was still devoid of any notifications. Navigating to your own playlists, you hit start and docked it in the cradle sitting on the table. It wasn't his music, but it made the wait infinitely less awkward.
When the door opened, you glanced up, heart beating wildly in your chest. Hoping…
"Hey, uh, we've got the first fifty people lined up out here. Should I let the handlers know to bring Jensen in?"
Chris's assistant searched your face for answers. Problem was, you had no idea how to do this alone. Right now, it looked as if your choice was being made for you however, as you couldn't realistically ask them to wait any longer than they already had.
SUMMARY: After a long day of recording, an exhausted, cold Robbie knows just how to warm up <3
WARNINGS: Smut, Oral Sex, Sensation Play, Dom!Rob Undertones, Cold Hands, Unprotected Sex, L.A. Snow (This is definitely a warning)
A/N: Almost zero plot here guys...pretty much porn ;)
L.A didn't get snow. Everyone knew that. Rob certainly knew that. He'd lived in the city most of his adult life. And yet, thick powder drifted from the heavens as he stepped from the warmth of the studio. The moon, swollen and heavy, hung in the night sky, basking the streets in her filtered light.
Blowing warmth into his freezing fingers, Rob hurried to the small car parked among so many others in the narrow alley. Exhausted from the twelve-hour day, he couldn't wait to get home. The twenty-minute drive across town flew by, one verse from the bands’ most recent writing efforts revolving in his otherwise occupied thoughts. Slinging the thick nylon strap of his messenger bag over his head, Rob stepped from the rapidly cooling vehicle - his worn Converse landing directly in a rather deep pile of snow. With a silently muttered curse, he stomped through the offending weather, pulling his leather jacket a little closer around his shoulders after a particularly icy gust of wind cut through the small amount of warmth he'd managed to build up along the way. A smile pulled at one side of his face as his stark blue eyes flicked up to notice the warm golden light framing his bedroom window. “[Y/N]...”The sound of dancing paws greeted him as he fumbled with his house keys; the correct one sliding home after a brief struggle, nearly dropping both his phone and keychain in the process.
“Heya Lily, how was your day?” A rough scratch between the dogs’ ears quieted her excitement as she turned and trotted from the room. The unmistakable noise of the dog flap colliding with its frame followed shortly after her departure. After tossing his things in the wooden bowl on the hall table and kicking off his sodden shoes, Rob turned for the stairs, his muscles relaxing as the heat of house began to seep into his body.
“[Y/N]?” The short walk through the upstairs hall yielded no answer. Pausing at the oak frame of his bedroom door, that same small smile found itself back on his face at the sight that awaited him. Although still fairly early, [Y/N] was sprawled across the middle of his bed, face down, crisp, forest-green sheets tangled around her ankles - her back rising and falling steadily in her sleep. A small sliver of skin peeked from beneath the hem of what looked to be one of his band tees; deep garnet boy shorts stretching deliciously over the firm curves of her ass.
“[Y/N]?” His voice was softer this time as he approached her, his bare feet making no sound on the plush carpet.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as Rob slid into place behind [Y/N], feather-light brushes of his lips caressing her warm skin. Skirting beneath the cotton fabric of her shirt, his still freezing fingers splayed out over her soft belly as he nibbled along the curve of her ear - his beard tickling the sensitive skin as [Y/N] stirred, quickly grabbing his hand away from her flushed skin.
“Damnit Benedict, get your cold hands off me..”
Warm fingers interlaced with his to take the sting from her words, a mischievous, sleepy grin greeting him as she turned to her back. With her free hand, she pulled him close, capturing his lips with her own and carding fingers through his dark curls. Wandering hands once more caressed soft skin, but this time, the chill felt refreshing and when Rob's fingers closed around one pebbled nipple, the strangled moan that assaulted his ears only encouraged his movements.
“Have I ever told you how much I love when you wear my clothes?”
Smirking, [Y/N] tilted her head curiously.
“Mmm..maybe once or twice. But...remind me?”
“You are incorrigible, do you know that?” “But..” -Rob's fingers closed tightly around [Y/N]’s rib-cage as he leaned back onto his knees, bringing her with him. With a final, lingering glare, his blue eyes found a new focus, and he lowered his mouth to nip teasingly at the flesh now pressing against that black and grey Metallica shirt.- “...I can't seem to get enough.”
“You?!” “What about me?” Leaning forward, you took a moment to properly straddle Rob's lap, pressing your body close to his as you leaned in to whisper against his ear, “have you seen yourself tonight? You look fucking gorgeous, as always. I swear you do this on purpose.”
Pulling back, you fixed the man before you with an intent stare - eyes raking over his disheveled white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled back over the corded muscles of his forearms. A black waistcoat layered over it lay open. His charcoal jeans suddenly tighter than moments before at the growl in your voice, at the look in your eyes.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Although Rob was pretty confident around his friends, occasionally his anxiety would flare up, but you only found him more endearing during these times. Cradling his face with both hands when he tried to laugh it off, you made a point to look him in the eye as your lips descended on his again. You'd learned that this small gesture went a long way towards assuring him you meant every word you said. The blush coloring his cheeks faded as your lips traveled from his neck to his collarbone; fingers nimbly popping buttons as you went. Suddenly impatient, Rob surged forward just as the last button gave way - his hands making quick work of your own shirt, which now lay in a discarded heap on the bedroom floor.
“Mmm, as beautiful as you look wearing my clothes, I've gotta say...they look better on the floor.”
Wrapping his arms back around your waist, Rob pulled your body against his, your breasts pressing flush against his chest just as he rolled his hips, the groan falling from his lips sending a shiver down your spine as his teeth closed over your pulse point.
A squeal of surprise sounded as you were tossed back against the pillows, Rob slotting himself between your thighs; the cool metal of his wallet chain sliding over your skin.
Chest heaving as he lavished you with bites and open-mouthed kisses, your hands once again found themselves tangling in his hair as he traveled down your body. Goosebumps flowed over your skin at the feel of his beard scraping against you. The distinct difference between his eager ministrations and the feather-light touch of sure fingers dancing over the elastic of your panties sent another shiver fleeing through every limb. Rob had naturally discovered your affinity for touch and often spent lazy days figuring out exactly what drove you wild. Torn between wanting to watch his every move and wanting to succumb to sensation alone, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, the bottom edge of your lip caught between your teeth as the increasing echo of your heart beat filled your ears. It'd been about fifteen seconds since you'd last felt anything, fifteen seconds of absolute silence - not even the sound of clothing rustling as you lay there, waiting - chest rising and falling erratically... [Y/N] was almost vibrating with tension; begging to be touched. Rob sat back, one slender finger touching down on an ankle, the slight twitch of surprise from [Y/N] making him grin. He was careful to move as quietly as possible and he'd become quite adept at teasing the woman before him. Taking care to only just graze her skin with the tip of his finger, he drew patterns on her body as he traveled up her long legs. Just before reaching the edge of the material encircling her thighs he stopped, his lust-filled pupils nearly eclipsing the steel grey-blue irises [Y/N] so loved. After a moment, he dipped beneath the edge of the garment, the stretchy, knit material clinging to this new intrusion. Gingerly his fingers twisted into the fabric, an almost feral growl rumbling from his chest as he lowered his mouth to the newly exposed skin of [Y/N]’s hips.
“[Y/N], baby, look at me...”
You almost shook your head, he'd barely touched you and you were already a hot mess. Not that you were complaining - Rob had had this effect on you since the first night you'd met him.
When you finally managed to open your eyes, you nearly lost yourself at the sight of him, staring up you with that hunger in his dark expression.
Crying out as several seams gave way under his strength, your panties soon joined the growing pile of clothes abandoned on the floor. You had only a moment to consider the ruined garment before the heat of Rob's mouth descended on your core - slow, heavy swipes of his tongue leaving you breathless before grazing your clit with his teeth. Fingers twisted in the bunched bedding at your sides and your head fell back in ecstasy when he blew the lightest of breaths across your damp skin, rolling his eyes up to catch the look of bliss painted across your features. Struggling to sit up with Rob still nestled between your legs, your first coherent thought was that he was still wearing far too many clothes.
“Lose the pants Robbie…” Your eye contact never wavered as he moved from the bed, taking his time, making sure you watched as the thick leather belt around his waist slid through the denim - the reticent scrape of the brass on his belt buckle jingling as it fell to the floor.
Eyes trained on the newly toned ligaments disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants, your breath caught briefly in your chest as Rob deftly unbuttoned; the stark, metallic sound of his zipper falling just before the pants did. He'd chosen today to forgo boxers, and standing there before you with a cocky grin plastered across his face, you could tell he'd done it on purpose - just like you'd guessed. Scrambling from the bed, you were dropping to your knees in front of him, mouth descending on the velvet head of his cock before he had time to think. A guttural groan fell from parted lips as his eyes fluttered shut, the thin cluster of bracelets wound around his wrist filling your senses with his scent; crisp notes of cool wintergreen paired with delicate notes of the tropics and layered with the warmth of vanilla. Layered over it all was the intensely recognizable smell of leather; his hands trembling as they slid through your hair, fingertips gently pressing into your skin. Sliding your tongue beneath the heavy weight of him, you closed your eyes, reveling in his texture. A quiet hum of appreciation had him groaning again, your nose pressing against his taut belly as you took him to the back of your throat; fingers tracing soft circles on his now fevered skin. When his hips began to lose their rhythm, he moved his hands to cup your face, bringing your lust-filled gaze up to his. Unfolding yourself from the spot at his feet, your hands traveled up his body as you rose, lining up every inch of your body to his.
Walking forward, you crawled on the bed after him, slinging one leg over his narrow hips and settling yourself on his lap. Rob held himself still for only a moment, his hungry eyes raking over your creamy skin as he pulled you close, capturing your mouth with his.
He fed at the edges of your lips - his fingers straining with their desire to touch you. Dragging his mouth down your neck, teasing your flesh with his teeth, his arms snaked around your waist, crushing you against his body even as you rose up on your knees, wrapping one hand around his length. Lining yourself up, you pressed yourself against his head, teasing for both of you, prolonging that brief moment of anticipation..With a growl Rob rolled his hips, seating you fully in his lap - filling you completely. Breathless, eyes wild, you bucked against him - pleasure seeping through your body as he began to move. “Fuck, you feel so good [Y/N]..”
You could only whimper as warmth spread out from your core, igniting a fire inside that you only ever had felt with Rob.
Sure, thick strokes stoked that fire until it became a raging pleasure and you began to match his thrusts, the fervor coating both of you in a fine sheen of sweat. Surging forward, you found yourself on your back, Rob shoving your fevered body to collide with the cool sheets, the change in angle allowing him to sink deeper. Running one hand along the length of your right leg, Rob's agile fingers wrapped around the back of your thigh, lifting it up and around his waist, as he continued to thrust into you. Rob's breath was heavy, his forehead rested against [Y/N]’s shoulder as he picked up speed, the slick between her thighs building warmth as he moved with her. The sound of his body colliding with hers created a heady, primal harmony that quickly wrote itself into his memory. As his thrusts became increasingly erratic you felt a telltale pressure building in your belly, your release slowly mounting, though still just out of reach. Several moments later the build ramped up, increasing waves of pleasure ripping through your body. As your walls began to pulse around Rob's cock, you cried out for him to move faster. He didn't need to be begged a second time; the wooden frame of the bed groaned beneath his efforts, and he knew exactly what would send you over the edge.
“Mmm, you take my cock so well baby..fuck I’m gonna fill you up..ya want me to do that? Hmm? Would you like that?” His breathing turned ragged, eyes shifting out of focus and he had only a moment, brow furrowing as his steely irises locked with yours, until he felt the pressure of your orgasm wash over you, your body clamping down around him as his own release followed almost directly afterwards, thick ropes of cum painting your insides as he collapsed.
Legs shaking, sweat painted your skin as his weight shifted and he rolled to his side, immediately reaching to lace his fingers in yours, one thumb tracing lazy circles across your hand.
“You are so...incredibly beautiful [Y/N]. I don't know what I did to deserve you.”
Rob had always been a sap. It had taken you awhile to believe just how much he cared for you, but in moments like this, you could see it in his eyes. Truth was, you'd never known a love as strong as you felt when you were around him, and you hoped it would never end. As his fingers traced imaginary lines down the length of your back, only the barest sensation of air movement skimming across your cooling body, a new fire ignited deep in your belly and you rolled over, intent on showing him just how much you loved him, even if you couldn't tell him just yet.
