Work Text:
Jensen’s Chemistry class is for everything besides actually learning Chemistry.
Danneel is all about the Ivy Leagues, walking their group through her tours of the shaded quads and formal stone halls. Her parents have the money to send her to those hallowed halls of tradition (and pretty crazy parties, or so Jensen’s heard), and she’s going to make the most of it. Christian and Jensen treat the class like a study hall, because if Mr. Willis is perfectly willing to give them A’s with minimal effort, they’re taking advantage. They start their French projects after finishing some nonsense involving vinegar and milk—”Acid, Base, or Not!”—but are soon sidetracked into talking about their upcoming baseball practice.
Then there’s Jared Padalecki. At the black lab table he shares with Danneel, Christian, and Jensen, Jared’s got his little corner cordoned off with notebooks and highlighters. He’s got so many composition books, Jensen doesn’t know how he keeps them all straight. Studious little bastard who isn’t all that little in reality, Jared puts them all to shame and he’s only a sophomore in a Chemistry class for juniors.
Jensen understands that Jared’s on an advanced track so he can cram AP Physics and Anatomy into his senior year. Why he’d want to do something crazy like that, Jensen isn’t exactly sure, but Jared seems to have planned out the rest of his time in high school down to which extracurricular activities will look best on his college applications. Jensen wouldn’t be surprised if Jared already has his senior prom date picked out.
But Jensen admires the kid—and yeah, he knows it’s wrong to call Jared ‘kid’, but Christian started it and it just made him blush adorably, so...
“What’re you writing, Jay?” Christian leans over Jared’s back, trying to catch a glimpse at his notebook.
“Just an English project for next week,” Jared says, scribbling a few more lines onto the current page before closing the cover.
“Overachiever,” Christian says, though it’s tolerant. Danneel latches on. “Is that the assignment you were telling me about? The fiction project for Ablemann’s class?”
“Yeah, it’s turning out a little longer than I expected, but...” Jared shrugs, shoulders under black cotton reaching his ears. Black’s a good color on him, Jensen decides. Their school colors—orange and green for the fucking Terrapins—don’t look good on anyone, and half the time Jared’s wearing a school t-shirt, though not today. Today he’s easy on Jensen’s eyes, with his soft brown hair curling at his ears and his skin showing a hint of the Texas sun.
“Jay, are you meeting us after practice again?” Christian asks as the bell rings for the last period.
“If Jensen doesn’t mind giving me a ride home,” Jared says, throwing hazel eyes his way. Jensen has no chance against that pleading, puppy-dog stare.
“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Jensen says, hanging a right turn out of the classroom door and making for his locker. Jared and Christian follow, Danneel waving as she heads for the Art corridor. “I’ll trade you a ride for the Chem notes you took on chapter fifteen. I don’t think I’ll have time before practice, and I’ve gotta take Mac to some pretty-princess dance thing tonight before dinner, so…”
“I’ll give ‘em to you on the way home. I just want to recopy a few things, is that okay?”
“Awesome,” Jensen says, and the three of them fork in different directions towards their final classes of the day.
~~~~~~~
They come back together in the parking lot a few hours later. Jensen's sweating under his collar thanks to a rough practice and even rougher words from his coach. The bastard kept him late to impress upon his star shortstop the importance of their next game.
Don't fuck this up, he'd said to Jensen in not-so-many words. Jensen got the message loud and clear.
Christian's slouched against the bumper of Jensen's Explorer, fingers picking at one of the bumper stickers that came with his car, while Jared waits patiently, backpack slung over one shoulder and another tote filled with printouts dangling from one hand
"Finally,” Christian yells out. "Jay already called shotgun."
Christian folds into the backseat, tossing his gear over the seats and into the truck. Jared tucks his backpack by his feet in the passenger seat and sets the tote in his lap.
"How was the yearbook meeting?" Jensen asks as they pull out. "Get everything done that you needed to?" Not only was Jared on his way to becoming valedictorian of his class, he decided that wasn't enough work and signed up for the yearbook staff, earning the thankless task of editing the Sports pages.
"Yeah, we're ahead of our deadline, so that's good," Jared says, and Christian huffs from the backseat. "Do me a favor, kid, and give Baseball the best pages."
"And take valuable space away from the Honor Society, or from baby pictures?" Jared smiles and Jensen matches his grin. "No way."
"Fucker." Again, with affection. Christian couldn't hate Jared if he tried. Jensen doesn't bother trying; his fate was sealed the day Jared sat down at their table in Chemistry and politely asked if he could join their lab group..
They bicker and complain about homework all the way to Christian's house where he hops out with little ceremony, smacking Jensen on the back of the head and kicking Jared's seat.
"Dude, careful!" Jensen yells. "Be nice to my car."
"Don't fuckin' be late tomorrow morning, Jenny!" Christian yells as a last offense before disappearing through the gate to his backyard.
Once they realized how well Jared clicked with their little troupe, it was easy making Jared a part of their after-school routine. Even easier since it turned out he only lived a few blocks away from Jensen. It made Jensen wonder how often their paths might have crossed before this year.
On the way to Jared’s, Jensen shares what he was hiding from Christian. A retelling of his coach's harsh speech, still echoing in his ears, comes out choppy and angry. Christian doesn’t always like hearing the emotional stuff, and his advice would probably land somewhere between, “Suck it up, you’re the star of the team!” and “Screw that guy, Jenny.” Fortunately, Jared doesn't wave it away; he listens and lets Jensen vent without adding much in the way of commentary, which is, more often than not, exactly what Jensen needs.
"You're one of his best players," Jared says when Jensen’s finished recounting all the details. He leans towards the middle console as Jensen makes a hard right turn. "Maybe he thinks you can handle the pressure."
"I just don't get why he thinks I don't know this stuff already," Jensen responds, pulling into an older neighborhood with big shade trees lining the street. "If I play badly, the only scholarship I'm going to get is playing for Greendale Community College."
Jared laughs. "I'd still go and watch your games," he assures Jensen, “but listen, there's a reason you guys are the defending state champions and it has nothing to do with your coach."
Jensen's smile is so big he nearly pulls a muscle in his face.
"Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up for school?" Jensen asks when he pulls up to the curb outside the Padalecki house. Though it’s moderately sized and unpretentious, Jared’s house sits on a wide corner lot with a red maple tree out front.
"Nah, that's okay," Jared says, shifting his bags around so they're easier to grab. "It's on the way for my dad, plus he buys me breakfast. Can you beat that?"
"I'd go broke in a week," Jensen says, laughing. "No way." He doesn't allow the disappointment to show. When Christian's not in the car, Jensen gets rare time alone with Jared. They’ve gotten to know each other pretty well in these little ten-minute increments. Jared's smart—he's probably got Jensen all figured out by now—but Jensen has nowhere near enough information.
"Oh, hey," Jensen says as Jared's getting out of the car. "Can I have those Chem notes?"
"Shit, I forgot." Jared paws through his bag and plucks out a black notebook, tossing it through the Explorer's window. "Get it back to me whenever, no rush."
"Thanks." Jensen waves and Jared hurries to his front door, turning back to give Jensen a wave.
~~~~~~~
After dinner, Jensen's mom boots him up to his room to study.
"No video games, Jensen. I mean it," she calls out, stomping her foot at the bottom of the stairs for emphasis.
"Fine, I'm going!"
He wastes a minute staring longingly at his Nintendo then upends his backpack over the floor. Textbooks and notes rain over his feet and Jensen can't decide which subject is the least revolting. If he eventually chooses Chemistry, it has nothing to do with Jared's involvement.
Grabbing his own notebook, Jensen separates Jared's from the pile and picks up a pen he hopes has enough ink left to copy Jared's extensive notes. He flips through the pages, but when he comes to the last one with writing, he suddenly realizes that he's definitely not looking at Chem notes. There are no chapter headings or pH charts, no color coded sections about which concepts are most likely to show up on a test. There are only words, spreading out on page after page. Jared's cramped writing fills the college ruled pages from margin to margin, spilling out in a story not meant for Jensen to see. He knows this because the first line contains his name.
Jensen's fingers itch to close the notebook—he gave me the wrong one!—but his brain keeps reading from that first line. He's immediately transported to another world, one of Jared's creation, where Jensen and Jared are the heroes.
As he reads, he smiles. The story contains so many little details about his life that he could have sworn Jared forgot about. Feelings and habits recounted in this story with perfect twists and turns of phrase. Jared's a brilliant writer; he makes Jensen sound clever and beautiful.
The real Jensen is no such thing. He's a high school junior with no ambition beyond doing enough work to pass his classes and get a baseball scholarship to UT. Jensen's got a home life that, let's face it, could be better; his parents are focused on Mac, the little angel, and Josh, the perfect first-born, leaving Jensen nowhere in the middle. They care, to a point, and Jensen doesn't blame them, but just once it would be nice to be the center of their attention.
Jensen was right about Jared; he has Jensen all figured out. The way Jared's version of Jensen—his heart starts to thrum harder—sees Jared's version of himself is amazing. This Jensen sees Jared as being noble, self-sacrificing, and always kind. He has a purpose, unlike the real Jensen reading this story, one that's going to take him far.
There's something else to this story, something that sinks in the longer he reads. It’s as if Jensen’s emotions have been ripped straight out of his heart and thrown down on Jared's pages. Jensen is familiar with these feelings, but he had no idea that Jared could...that Jared could see—
Jensen rested at the edge of the mattress, hand slowly reaching out and fingers sliding across the beaten knuckles of Jared’s hand, which then twitched and turned, making Jensen flinch. He realized Jared was seeking out his hand so Jensen turned his over and slid it into Jared’s.
He found Jared’s eyes and sunk down to him, skin on skin, mouth to mouth, tongues tangling as they moved together. And every bit of tension and fear over his real duty in their world dissipated and made room for the warmth and thrill of being with Jared, being with him like this.
Knowing that he's getting a glimpse of Jared's private thoughts, there's a part of Jensen that wishes he could stop reading, but his brain says no-can-do. It forces his fingers to turn the pages until the story is finished and Jared's version of Jensen gets his happy ending.
Later that night, with the notebook on his nightstand—Jensen read the entire story twice—Jensen falls asleep and dreams of discovering his own happy ending.
~~~~~~~
“I can't give you a ride after practice today."
"Why the hell not?" Christian asks with half a bagel hanging out of his mouth.
"I have plans and I might need to stay late, okay?"
"Sure, man. Do you need me to pass the message on to Jay?"
"No," Jensen says too quickly. Thankfully, Christian's too occupied fighting his oral battle with his breakfast to notice. "I'll tell him."
The first half of Jensen's day is an exercise in torture. He never sees Jared until Chemistry on a normal day, but this is far from one of those.
"Jared was acting all weird in Latin this morning," Danneel informs Jensen in English class after their lunch period is over. "He thought you might be mad at him for some reason. He wouldn’t tell me why"
"Danni—"
"Don't worry," she says, smiling gently. "I didn't tell him that being mad is the last thing you'd be likely to feel when it comes to our little sophomore friend."
"You suck," he tells her.
"You wish," Danneel says. "But seriously, it looked like someone kicked him and his puppy, so be nice to him later, okay? I don't know what happened."
"I'll figure it out."
Jensen begs his English teacher for the bathroom pass five minutes before class ends. She starts to ask what the rush is when Jensen grabs his bags to take with him, but he's already out the door by the time she finishes her question. The bell hasn't rung yet and it's quiet in the hallway. Jensen winds up pacing outside of the Chem lab, fretting over what he’s supposed to do now.
He knows what he wants—he's known since the first day of school this year—and he can guess what Jared wants, unless this entire story is some kind of joke. That’s only if Jared were the kind of guy to pull something like this, but he's not Christian, who lives for pulling the best pranks. He's Jared, and he has this flawless image of Jensen in his mind that no real person could ever hope to live up to.
The real question is, is Jensen willing to try?
He's the first one in the lab after the previous class files out in a rush. As if it's worth more than the paper it's written on, Jensen takes the notebook out of his own bag and sets it on Jared's corner, grabbing a post-it from Mr. Willis' desk and adding a quickly-scribbled note to the last page.
Jared shuffles into the classroom a few minutes later, seconds before the bell rings, stooped as if he’s moving under a heavy weight. No smile, no greeting, he just bee-lines to his seat and looks shocked to see his notebook sitting out on the table. He catches Jensen's eye, but Mr. Willis is already outlining the remainder of their pH experiments.
Not even listening to their teacher, Jared grabs the notebook and flips through the pages, eyes-wide and ready to cry, if Jensen knows him at all. He wants to reassure Jared, to tell him it's all going to be okay, but he remains quiet and lets his post-it do the talking.
Jared stops on the last page and the sounds in the room go dull and muffled in Jensen's ears. Jared mouths the words written on the post-it and Jensen watches the way his lips move.
I'm in love with you, too.
Jensen knows exactly what he'd written, but for a moment he panics thinking Jared has somehow read it wrong; his expression is inscrutable. Only when his eyes return to Jensen’s is he finally able to decipher the look on Jared’s face.
Hope.
Jensen smiles and the lab suddenly feels too big; there’s too much space between Jared and Jensen at their table. As soon as Mr. Willis sits down and lets his students have free reign over the school's supply of chemicals, Jensen drags his stool over by Jared's, ignoring Danneel and Christian's confusion.
"Jensen, I—"
"Hey, you owe me some Chem notes," Jensen teases ridiculously, unable to control the way he’s smiling.
Jared stares for a second then flushes the most adorable shade of pink. "Oh, right. I'm sorry."
"No problem." Jensen taps the notebook, leaning close. "Besides," he whispers, "I really liked your story."
Laying his palm over his notebook, just barely brushing Jensen's fingers, Jared grins.
"Do you want to tell me more about it after my practice?" Jensen asks. "I can drive you home, or we can grab dinner…"
"Yeah," Jared says, and Jensen sees that kind, noble character. "I really do."
FIN.