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Every week it was the same; they finished filming at some god-awful hour, got maybe an hour free to shower, change, then the driver picked up him, picked up Jared, and they got on a plane to LA. Then a couple of hours suspended in between, god willing no enthusiastic fans in first class, and then another driver, another car. Home.
Most weeks it felt good, lounging around with Jared, letting the tension of the week go, but this week--
Monday and Tuesday they wrapped up the first part of the finale, he and Jared ruining about six pairs of jeans each on the muddy ground. By the end of filming on Tuesday his knees ached from the cold mud, and when he finally walked away from the set and went to change Dean's clothes out for his own he realized his fingers ached, too. Holding on so tight, clutching Jared as he went as limp as one of his gummy worms, holding onto his brother as he died, died right there against him.
He shook it off, told Jared he was the goofiest looking dead kid in the history of television, and they swung by the Smallville set on the way back to his townhouse and Jared's hotel. Nothing more therapeutic, sometimes, than fucking with Welling. Wednesday was tech shit, fill-in shots against the blue screen, but all day long his stomach clamped down tighter every time he looked at the script for the next couple of days.
Not like he had a lot of lines. Not like it took a whole lot of words to sit a deathwatch on somebody who's already dead.
Thursday they started filming the second half of the finale, and everyone on set gave him a wide berth. They were quieter than normal, tense, the 50/50 chance the network had given them hanging heavy like smog. He knew that it didn't all have to do with him, knew they were wrapped up in worries of their own.
Even Jared, who kept so still on set and stayed in his trailer between set-ups. Even Jim, the carefulness in his voice not sounding a hell of a lot different than Bobby's. Jensen felt like he had a bubble around him, a bubble of grief and silence and anger. A bubble of Dean.
By the time they wrapped, his eyes were dry and sore, and his chest ached from breathing weird. His assistant handed him a sandwich, and the first bite dropped into his stomach like a bottle clanging down into an empty drum. He forced himself through half the sandwich before he gave up.
Sleeping sucked. Not-sleeping. Remembering Jared's gray skin under the lights and all of the thoughts churning through his head: what-if-he-really and things-can-happen and what-if-it-was-Josh-or-Mackenzie. And what-if-this-is-it, what-if-there's-no-renewal. He thought about calling his mama, but it would only worry her.
He thought about calling Jeff, but he was busy filming in New York, and they hadn't seen each other for weeks.
~~~
Friday, finally. Kim had scheduled some lighter scenes for the first part of the day--Jared got to be alive, temporarily. Jensen wrapped his arms around his co-star and smiled, and he still felt like he was empty and half-dead inside. He figured it was just about right for Dean.
They went to break, and Jared disappeared again. Jensen sat in his trailer and ran over his lines again, trying not to throw up the pizza he'd swallowed filming the scene with Sam and Dean eating in the cabin. The food had started off pretty fresh, but by the time Kim called cut it was all the stink of cold grease. Jared had still grabbed a handful of the cold fries and stuffed them in his face. Jensen tasted bile at the back of his throat and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
~~~
Last scene of the day, his monologue over Sam's corpse. Apostrophe, he thought his high school drama teacher would have called it--talking to somebody who wasn't really there. The set went silent around him again, Jared laid out gray and still once more. The lines felt thick, bubbling up out of his throat, and when Kim called cut for the last take of the day Jensen slumped down onto the side of the cot feeling like he'd been slugged in the stomach a few times by one of the larger stunt guys.
He felt the thin mattress shift as Jared swung his legs around and sat up beside him so close that their shoulders bumped. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Glad it's fuckin' Friday." He looked over at Jared's still-gray face and shuddered.
"No kidding." Jared reached out a hand to flag down a passing PA. "Hey, um, do you think I could get something to take this shit off?" He gestured at his face. Jensen just sat, taking measured breaths in through the tense, sore muscles of his chest and stomach, and when he heard Jared say, "Thanks, man, you rock," he looked over to see Jared scrubbing a damp cleansing cloth over his face, trading gray skin for pink.
Jensen put a hand on Jared's shoulder and pushed himself up to stand. "Plane leaves in three hours. Guess we better get out of here."
Jared nodded silently, and Jensen turned to walk away, but before he got more than twenty feet away he heard quick steps behind him and then felt Jared's arm around his shoulders. "Man, you know everything's okay, right? You did some fuckin' awesome work."
Jensen reached over and smacked Jared on the chest. "Thanks, Jay. Just, you know, Dean. Kinda hanging around."
Jared nodded his head, face looking pinched and concerned and a lot like--a lot like Sam. "Just do yourself a favor and leave him here. He's been in LA enough this year."
~~~
In his seat next to Jared on the plane, Jensen realized that the thought of going home to his nice, quiet, empty condo didn't feel anywhere near as good as it usually did. He had something mellow coming in over his iPod--alt-country, folk, he wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but it felt better on his strained nerves than anything else he'd tried. Jared was busy killing ninjas or something on his PSP, so Jensen went back and forth between staring out the window at the tops of the clouds and keeping an eye out to see when Jared's game finished. When Jared's screen finally flashed its last and Jared put it down on the tray table, Jensen pulled his earbuds out and turned off the music.
"Hey, you got big plans with Sandy this weekend?"
"Oh, man, yeah." Jared bent his head forward and rolled it back and forth, stretching. "One of her friends is getting married tomorrow, so we've got the whole, you know, reception and everything, drive to like Malibu."
"Man, that blows."
"Yeah, pretty much. What about you?"
"Just hanging out, I guess. Maybe, uh, say a couple of prayers for renewal."
Jared snorted quietly. "You praying to Dawn Ostroff these days?"
"Aw, fuck no. Just, you know--" Jensen didn't want to say it out loud. How much he would miss working with Jared, how much he didn't know what kind of career he would have, how much it would hurt to put this kind of effort into something that went away after two seasons.
"Yeah." Jared lifted his elbow to bump Jensen's arm. "I know what you mean. I'm just yanking your chain."
"Sorry, I'm just--" Jensen lifted a hand a moved it vaguely around his head.
"You're gonna have a better weekend than you think. I can feel it."
Jensen glanced over to catch Jared's smirk. "What? What's going on?"
"Swami Padalecki knows all."
"Dude, did Mike order me a hooker again? Because, look, I'm not even sure that chick was 18, and I read this article about how they get girls from--"
"No. Shit, he told you he was sorry. He didn't know."
"It's just--"
"Relax. It's nothing like that."
"Are you sure?"
"Mike's not involved at all. You trust me?"
Like family, Jensen thought, and then some of the shit he'd taken from family shuddered through his head. More than family. "You know I do."
Jared smiled gently. "Then put your music back on and chill out. We should land in half an hour."
Jensen nodded and put the earbuds back in, but he couldn't help being disquieted by the thought of what Jared, or somebody, had planned for him.
~~~
They made their usual quick pass through customs, and Jared fished his phone out of his pocket as soon as they cleared the gate.
"We're on our way, man, thanks." Jared hung up, and Jensen followed him toward the exit.
"Gary's not hung up in traffic is he?" Jensen really wasn't in the mood for a delay, waiting for the guy who picked them up most weeks and dropped Jensen at his condo, Jared at his house.
"Nah, we're good to go."
"Cool."
"Actually, um, Sandy dropped my car off in short-term parking so I can go do some wedding shit. Your ride's over there." Jared pointed to a silver SUV, and Jensen shrugged.
Not Gary's usual van, but whatever. He was starting to feel dragged out enough that he didn't much care as long as it got him home. "Okay, man. See you Sunday. Good luck catching the garter belt."
"Oh, hell no!" Jared laughed, heading off to the closest parking lot.
Jensen climbed into the back of the SUV and sighed at the comfort of the cool air against his skin. The windows were tinted dark, and after the bright, oversaturated afternoon light of the terminal and outside, he could barely make out Gary's shape in the front seat.
"You can sit back there if you want to," a familiarly deep voice spoke from the driver's seat. "I don't mind playing Driving Miss Daisy."
Jensen blinked, squeezing his eyes tight, and when he opened them again he could make out Jeff's face, smiling warmly. "Oh, God," he breathed out, leaning forward and shouldering through the space between the seats to take Jeff's face in his hands and kiss him. Jeff's skin under his fingers was bristly with stubble, and his mouth tasted like coffee and smokes. Jensen felt absurd tears of relief stinging his eyes and pulled away, leaning his forehead against the back of Jeff's seat.
"You okay?" Jeff's hand felt warm on his cheek, his thumb brushing Jensen's temple.
"Yeah. Just--tired, you know."
"Drive's probably close to an hour this time of day. Come on up front, you can tilt the seat back, get a nap."
"Okay." Jensen stepped back out into the sunlight and then returned to the relative dim of the front seat. He belted himself in and leaned the seat back as Jeff pulled out into the stream of traffic around the terminal. He closed his eyes and spoke into the darkness. "So, how's the shooting going?"
"I thought you were going to sleep?" The sound of Jeff's voice here in person was so welcome that Jensen needed more of it.
"I'll rest. Just--talk to me? Tell me whatever."
Jeff's hand was a warm weight on his thigh for a moment before he took it away, and Jensen felt the swaying curve of changing lanes. "Okay. Well, we've got a really great crew on this project. I was hanging out with one of the lighting guys, and got me turned onto this restaurant in the Lower East Side. Jen, you'd love it, I…"
Jeff's voice continued soft and low beside him, mixed with the hum of the road under their wheels. He drifted, thinking of Dean, wondering if he found this kind of peace on the road.
~~~
Jeff's house, as always, made Jensen feel like he ought to do something to make his condo feel more like home. Get some decorations with more color in them, some art. Only, he could never decide if he ought to go ahead and buy a house, and he wasn't there that much of the time anyway. And he didn't think that there was anything he could do, or pay anybody else to do, that would give his place the kind of feeling that Jeff's had.
As soon as they stepped inside, Bisou was all over Jeff, whipping Jensen's legs with her tail as Jeff crouched down to let her lick at his face. "Yeah, baby, Daddy missed you, too." Jeff stood up, chuckling. "I gotta go wash off the slime. Put your stuff down wherever. Take a load off."
Jensen dropped his duffle on the floor and sank down into the sinfully deep and wide armchair in Jeff's living room. He put his feet up on the matching ottoman and let himself sink down into the upholstery. He opened his eyes a couple of minutes later when Jeff sat down next to his legs on the ottoman.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"You look like shit." Jeff's forehead folded into the crease in the middle, and Jensen hated being responsible for that.
"'m just tired. Been a rough week. You remember how it was last year."
"Yeah." Jeff watched him silently for a moment. "Jared called me."
"I kinda figured. I'm gonna beat his ass just as soon as I work out how." The familiar smirk felt weary on his face.
"I'm glad he did. We have a couple days break from filming, but I was just going to hang out, nothing special. Got an invitation to some house party out in the Hamptons, if you can believe that shit."
"Man." Jensen sighed. "I don't think I can live up to that."
"I don't know--hanging out here with you, maybe smoking a bowl and ordering in some Chinese. Totally sounds like a better party to me."
"You know you fail at being a fame whore."
"That's the inherent tragedy of my life right there."
"You're never gonna get a chance to fuck Lindsey Lohan."
Jeff barked out a laugh. "From your lips to God's ear." His dark eyes heated up then, and he reached out to cup his fingers around Jensen's chin, run his thumb lightly over Jensen's lips. "I've missed you."
"Well, there's an even chance that I'll be unemployed and hanging around LA full-time in a couple of months, so--" Jensen cut himself off, annoyed at the self-pity in his voice. "But I've missed you, too. Every time somebody asks me about John Winchester coming back on the show again, I think, man, I wish."
"Maybe we'll both end up in Vancouver next year, one way or another. I may have mentioned something to my agent about being particularly eager to look at projects that are planning to film up there."
Jensen felt his face, his chest flush at that piece of information. "That'd pretty much rock." Jensen let his eyes slip closed and imagined working out the buzzing high of a crazy day filming with Jeff's cock inside him and learning lines together on the couch and going out drinking with Jared.
"Hey." Jeff's voice roused him from his daydream. "Why don't you take a nap until it's time to get dinner?"
"Nah, hey, let's go upstairs." Jensen made to push himself out of the grip of the chair, but Jeff held him down with a hand on his chest.
"If we go upstairs you're only going to sleep anyway. You comfortable here?"
Jensen had to admit that Jeff had a point. "Yeah."
"Okay, then." Jeff turned on the ottoman to face Jensen's feet and unlaced his boots, letting one and then the other drop to the floor.
"You don't have to--"
"I already did." Jeff stood up and moved out of Jensen's line of sight for a moment. A small squeak, and then the light in the room dimmed and softened. Jensen's eyes slipped to just barely open, but he could still see Jeff as he approached with a blanket in his arms. The blanket felt like tightly woven cotton and smelled like the wild grasses that grew in Jeff's back yard. Jensen felt the warm press of a kiss on his forehead and the brief gust of breath as Jeff whispered, "sleep."
He slept.
~~~
Jensen woke to find himself in darkness. He knew his location almost immediately--Jeff's living room, that decadent chair--but he felt uncomfortably like he was swimming in time. He'd gone to sleep in the light of late afternoon, and now it was dark, but the dark of early evening? Or the middle of the night? Just before dawn? His body didn't give him a single clue. His eyes cleared enough to make sense of the numbers on his watch--7:15--but his head kind of hurt, and he couldn't think if seven was light or dark in the morning or evening this time of year in LA.
Dim light and quiet music emanated from the hallway leading out of the living room, so Jensen pushed himself out of the plushy clutches of the chair and walked toward the signs of life. He found Jeff standing in front of a canvas in his work room, wearing worn sweatpants, a paint-spattered t-shirt and sneakers that looked like they'd been through a river or three. Jensen leaned against the door frame and inhaled traces of sweet smoke.
"Hey."
Jeff turned around, a quick smile on his face. "Hey, sleeping beauty."
"How, uh, how long did I sleep? Is it morning?" Jensen hated sounding like some dazed idiot, but if the shoe fit he supposed he had to wear it. His head still ached a little behind his eyes, and he wondered where Jeff kept his Advil.
Jeff put his brush down in a jar full of water and walked closer. "No, it's just about dinner time. You only slept a few hours."
"Cool. I'd hate to sleep the weekend away."
Jeff just cocked an eyebrow, but didn't reply. "You hungry? The Chinese should be here any minute."
Jensen checked in with his stomach and found it, yeah, empty. "Starving."
"Good." Jeff walked out into the hallway past Jensen and toward the kitchen, flipping on lights as he went. "I think I got a little carried away, probably got enough food for the both of us and Jared."
Jensen laughed quietly, following Jeff into the kitchen. Jeff was bent over the fridge, digging through its contents. "Hey, what do you want to drink? I've got water, beer, um, lemonade?"
"Lemonade?" Jensen's parched tongue perked up at the thought. "Is it the light kind?"
Jeff turned around, lemonade carton in his hand and a disbelieving look on his face. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
"I--" Jensen thought about all those calories of sugar and the depressing tendency his face had toward a double chin and shrugged. "Whatever, yeah, sounds good."
Jeff just got the two tall glasses of cold lemonade poured over ice before Bisou started barking in the back yard and the doorbell rang.
Jeff really had ordered far too much food. Cashew chicken, pepper steak, snow peas and mushrooms, shrimp and broccoli, pork dumplings, some kind of round dumplings covered in sesame seeds. It all smelled and tasted fresh, not greasy, and Jensen knew he shouldn't have been surprised that Jeff knew the best place to order from.
Jensen shook on some of the hot sauce Jeff set out and ate a little bit of everything, more than a few of the pork dumplings, and in the end less food was left over than he would have expected. He sat back, leaning over to hand the last half a dumpling he just couldn't finish down to Bisou's waiting maw.
Jensen stood up to help Jeff close up the half-consumed cartons and stow them back in the fridge. As he backed away toward the sink, his hips brushed against Jeff's, and he realized that Jeff had nothing on under his sweats.
"Hey," Jensen said, reaching a hand out to Jeff's hip and hooking his index finger into a small hole in fabric there. H tugged gently, and Jeff took a half-step closer.
"Hey."
Jensen worked his finger a little more deeply into the hole and brushed his fingertip, the edge of his nail over the soft skin just above the crease where Jeff's hip met his thigh. Jensen grinned as Jeff's cock rose, tenting the thin fabric of his pants between them.
"Oh, babe," Jeff groaned. "I'm too stuffed to fuck or I'd have you over this table so fast you'd have rice in your hair for a week."
"That would be something for the fans to talk about." Jensen grinned. "Can I--" He pulled his finger out of the snug noose of the hole in Jeff's pants and wiped his hand across his face. "Can I watch you paint?"
Jeff chuffed out a quiet laugh. "You do know I'm not exactly about to take the art world by storm, right? You're not going to witness the creation of a staggering work of modern art or anything."
"I don't care. I just--I don't know anything about it. I know about acting, of course, and I've got a few friends who play music, but the closest I get to painting is buying Jared a paint-by-numbers kit so he can practice for his new role." Jensen paused, not wanting to push Jeff too hard or lay too much of his heart out on the table. "I'd just like to see what you…do."
"Well, sure." Jeff nodded, looking bemused. "Of course."
Jeff let Bisou out in to the back yard, and they walked upstairs to Jeff's workroom, but Jeff paused before opening the door. "There, uh, there's not much by way of seating."
"I'm good with whatever."
Jeff looked away, pushing the door open. "Well, the only one who's usually up here with me is, uh--" He gestured at a round futon mattress, about five feet across, that sat on the floor.
"Bisou?" Jensen finished, noticing stray dog hairs on the blue cotton.
"Yeah. She likes to hang in here with me sometimes."
"That's cool." Jensen smiled, pulling the futon closer to the wall and sitting down with his back to the wall and his legs stretched out on the futon. "I'm good."
"Yeah? Don't blame me when you get fur all over your jeans."
"Duly noted."
"Okay." Jeff turned his canvas around so that Jensen could see it--bright colors pushing up from the lower right-hand corner, exploding against the white background. "My friend Julie's getting married. I don't usually paint flowers, but she showed me this garden of hers, so it feels right for her."
Jensen nodded silently and watched as Jeff mixed colors and painted them onto his canvas with strokes that were sometimes sure and quick and sometimes delicate and slow.
After a couple of minutes, he stopped glancing back at Jensen and focused on his work. Jensen watched him bring life to the blank canvas and thought it wasn't that different from watching Chris or Steve or Jason pour their hearts out onto the slab of wood some bar called a stage. Jeff was probably right, that he wasn't the world's very best artist, and Jensen knew he wasn't any kind of art critic, but the painting looked passionate and positive. Jeff rendered in two dimensions.
Jensen felt content to sit and watch Jeff work. As the evening passed, he found himself watching the movement of the brush -- the colors blooming across the canvass -- less and the man wielding the brush more. Jeff's t-shirt clung to the broad shape of his back and shoulders, and Jensen could see the muscles shift as he moved. The sweats hung low on Jeff's hips and did nothing to hide the swell of his ass. Another hole, a little larger than the one Jensen had hooked his finger through, showed Jensen a shifting bit of skin just under the back of the waistband.
He started to wish he had changed into some sweats or track pants himself as his jeans grew tighter. After pulling at the denim to loosen it a few times, he finally gave in, popped the top button and unzipped them. He took a deep, relieved breath but didn't miss how Jeff paused at the sound of the zipper, his brush's flickering motion stuttering before continuing on.
Jensen stuck a hand down the front of his pants, adjusting his cock for better comfort now that there was more space to work with. The temptation to stroke himself, to give into the desire building in his belly, was great, but he wanted even more to go there with Jeff, so he waited. And watched.
Jeff painted for a few more minutes, putting the finishing touches on a beautiful explosion of sunflowers, before dropping his brush in an old pasta sauce bottle full of water. He turned around, triumph and heat glittering in his eyes, and stalked across the room toward where Jensen sprawled on the futon.
"God," he drawled, voice gravely and low, "I just--" He fell to his knees at the edge of the cushion and lunged forward to capture Jensen's mouth in a kiss.
Jensen leaned forward to meet him, and he felt the passion and energy he saw in Jeff's painting played out against his mouth. He moaned into Jeff's mouth when he felt hands at his hips, yanking at his already-loosened jeans. He lifted up his ass to let Jeff pull his jeans and boxers down and then kicked them all the way off while he pushed down on the waistband of Jeff's sweats.
He got his hands on the warm, firm flesh at Jeff's waist, and then they had to pull apart, gasping for air while they pulled their own shirts over their heads and Jeff knelt up long enough to push his pants the rest of the way off and kick off his shoes.
Jeff had his hands back on Jensen's bare hips in an instant. "I can never get used to this. You're so fucking gorgeous. I just--"
Jensen gasped in surprise as Jeff pulled him down to lie flat on the futon, his feet and calves dangling off the end, and then Jeff was bent over him, tracing long, swooping shapes over his stomach and sides with his fingers and licking delicate strokes of cool-warm around his navel and down the center of his belly.
Jensen closed his eyes and imagined Jeff painting--the long, flowing strokes of the stems, the tiny details of the blossoms. His skin was the canvas now, and he felt then that Jeff could turn everything cold and blank inside of him into beauty and color. Then the heat of Jeff's mouth surrounded his cock, and he stopped thinking about much of anything at all except planting his feet on the cool wood floor and arching his hips to get closer to that heat and pressure. Jeff's hands stayed on his waist, holding him steady, his thumbs still tracing patterns on Jensen's skin.
Jensen angled his hips so the head of his cock slid across the roof of Jeff's mouth just right, just perfect, and when he came he clenched his eyes so tight that lights flowered across the darkness. His breath still heaving in his chest he looked up at Jeff. "I wanna do it on my knees. I want you--" he broke off, gasping, "around me, over me," he panted, "in me." It took all of his strength to turn over on his stomach and pull his knees up under him so that they pressed into the mattress under his hips.
"Just let me--" Jeff sounded out of breath himself. "Let me go get a condom."
"I haven't--" Jensen pressed his head down against the futon. "I haven't been with anyone else since last year. I'm clean. You…uh--"
"Just you. Jesus Christ, just you. Are you sure? I can--"
"Just, please, I wanna feel you. I need to--"
"Okay, okay." Jeff stroked the flat of his hand along Jensen's back. "I've got some lotion, hold on."
Jensen was alone on the mattress for only a breath before Jeff was at his back again. He heard the snick of a cap popping open, then the feeling of Jeff's wide fingers smoothing lotion into his hole.
"I'm good, I'm good, come on."
"I won't hurt you, Jen. I won't. You gotta give me a sec here."
Jensen breathed into the warm space between his bent arms and his chest as he felt Jeff's fingers work more slippery lotion inside him and then pull out.
Then the blunt head of Jeff's cock pushed into him, and it was all human heat, all smooth skin. It burned a little, but as Jeff thrust inside him, moving in slow strokes, he felt more alive than he had in weeks. Suddenly his chest and his head felt heavy, full, and with his next breath he realized he was crying, sobbing breaths tearing out of his chest, tears wet on his forearms.
Jeff stilled inside him. "Jensen? Are you--what?"
"'m okay," Jensen gasped out, tasting salt in his mouth. "Please don't stop."
"Okay." Jeff wrapped an arm around Jensen, hand splayed on Jensen's chest, and then started moving again. Each thrust brought them closer together, Jeff's substantial weight pressed tight to Jensen's back.
When Jeff came, a heat Jensen had never felt before spread inside him, and he slumped forward, bearing Jeff's lax weight down with him. His tears had trailed off to just a slow leak from his eyes, and his chest felt lighter than it had in a week, even with Jeff's weight pushing against every breath.
"Thank you," Jensen whispered. He felt Jeff's cock going soft inside him, and he relaxed, knowing that this time they didn't have to move to take the condom off before it became a mess.
In just over a day, he'd go back up to Vancouver; he'd rip his heart out and die a little more for the cameras, but it would be okay. It would be okay because he had Jeff inside him now, and Jeff would hold his heart in his talented hands.