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Jared digs his nose into the hollow of Jensen’s throat, wanting comfort and closeness and “You just smell like you there, Jen, ‘s’nice,” mumbled sleepy against his collarbone. Jensen sighs, hitches his arms tighter around his hurting, exhausted best friend and thinks again about how Jared has broken through every single one of his barriers since day one.
It’s not the first time his heart almost stops with how much he loves Jared, but he hopes that the last time he feels this way in his life will be just like this, cover-warm and sleep-soft and startlingly intimate, sharing space and secrets and taking comfort from each other.
*
Jensen thinks that maybe the first time he thought he loved Jared was not long after they met at auditions.
Jensen is tense; expecting a room full of other wannabe Sams competing with him for a role he wasn’t even quite sure was right for him. He’s surprised to find just one other man – gangly, skinny boy-man really – waiting in the room; and even more so when the guy jumps up and introduces himself with a friendliness rarely found in Hollywood. They get talking quickly, making immediate small talk about the lack of other actors present and the quickly shared realisation that they were both slightly suppressing Texas accents. Jensen is aware, even at that stage, that Jared is something else, something outside his realm of experience; someone who is cutting through his nerves and paranoia and making him settle in a way he hadn’t expected.
Both their auditions are positive, and as he hoped, he’s offered the chance for the other role, the better role (at least in his opinion); Dean Winchester, the older, hotter, sassier brother. Alec really, but all grown up and a bad ass mother fucker. They’re invited back a couple of days later to read together ‘for chemistry’, in front of the biggest group of network executives he’s ever seen in one place. He’s too nervous to talk much, really, beforehand; but Jared fills the space with enough chatter to make no difference, talking of the latest Spurs game, the weather back home, people they have in common.
Their reading is electric, to the extent that Jensen feels like the tiny hairs on the back of his hair should be standing on end. Something clicks between Jensen and Jared, or more accurately, between the Dean and the Sam who surge to life in the otherwise mundane room. They fly outside, wings of well done and jesus, you were something else and that worked, right? I’m not making that up? propelling them into the small room where they’ve been asked to wait.
Jared grins at him, all fuck yeah, that worked¬, cocky and flashing those big, addictive dimples at Jensen. He reaches over, feints to the left, and makes a sharp turn to ruffle Jensen’s carefully gelled hair into unruly spikes, crowing, “We ruled that audition, man, we nailed it! We were Sam and Dean!” and then, while Jensen is still frozen in shock at the invasion of his personal space, of his carefully constructed walls, he darts in again for another swipe.
It takes Jensen a moment to realise his annoyance is more akin to when Mac had riled him up when they were younger, or when Chris mockingly answered his call with a ‘how’s things, Jenny’, than outrage at the fact that an almost-stranger had touched him. Once he’s recovered from the momentary paralysis, he howls at the offense to his hair and surges towards Jared, who wasn’t expecting the attack. Within seconds, he has Jared in a headlock and is rubbing against his scalp, messing up those college-boy curls. Jared squirms against him, but even though he’s taller, his lanky frame is no match for Jensen’s stockier form and Jared is pinned, yelling and protesting at what Jensen later learns is only a fraction of the volume he’s capable of achieving.
With timing reminiscent of a comedy sketch (or horror movie, Jensen is not quite sure), the door to the audition room opens and one of the executives steps out; a shorter, boyish man with a slightly more casual style than any of the other suits.
Jensen freezes, Jared still shrieking bloody murder in his arms. The suit looks at them, eyebrows raised, and the thought flashes quick through Jensen’s head, well, there goes that then. “Everything ok, boys?” the suit asks, with an expression that Jensen can’t quite read.
Jared looks up at him, taking in the situation at lightning speed, and suddenly grins. “We’re brothers, right?” he says, big, innocent eyes looking at the executive in a way that Jensen will become all too familiar with in the next few years (and will be thankful for on more than one occasion when Jared offers to take the blame for their mischief). “My big brother used to do this to me all the time. We’re just practicing being brothers.”
Startled, the suit laughs; and then, more importantly, looks at them with an analytical head tilt and clever eyes, sizing them up. “Very true,” he’d said. “Good to see my Sam and my Dean already channeling that sibling rivalry. I’m Eric Kripke, by the way. I created the show.”
Yet another moment’s stunned silence is broken by Jared’s booming laugh as he straightens up. “Man, I’m surprised you still want anything to do with us,” he says, holding out his hand. “Jensen and I are real pleased to meet you.” He holds out his palm, his other hand propelling Jensen forward, into the realm of good manners.
“Good to meet you, sir. Hope we get the chance to work together,” Jensen stutters out.
Kripke grins at both of them and says, “Oh, I’m sure we will,” before walking off with handshakes all round.
Jensen considers himself a well brought-up boy; he’s been in Hollywood for few years now as well and isn’t easily flustered. And yet, Jared Padalecki just saved his ass; he’s never been so glad for someone else’s charm and quick thinking in his life. As Jared slings a friendly arm around his shoulders and says, up close and directly into his ear, “I think we deserve a beer after that, you wanna head to a bar?”, he thinks, irreverently, “God, I love this guy.” The thought is shallow; the deeper sense of recognition is not.
*
Season one flies by with more success than they could have hoped. Jared, though, finds it difficult to get to grips with Vancouver, with its wet, dreary sky constantly leaking rain; with the distance from his parents and his siblings; and with the way Van is so very definitely, almost defiantly, not like Texas. A steady stream of visitors try to keep him connected, and Jensen soon learns that Sandy is a sweetheart and Chad is a vulgar ball of rude that he sometimes worries about touching without contracting an STD, but who nevertheless seems to make every night turn into an adventure. Jordan comes to visit and Jensen takes to him immediately; he’s down to earth and witty; and knows fantastically embarrassing stories about Jared.
Its late when they leave the bar, laughing and careening into each other with contagious enjoyment. Jared is giggling, honest-to-god giggling, his face flushed with pink highlights on each cheekbone and his hands helping to illustrate the incredibly complex (and dirty) story he’s telling. Jensen has his head cocked to one side, trying to work out what the fuck Jared is talking about, wondering if he’d make more sense from a different angle; while Jordan, who’s heard the story before, is yelling encouragement at all the key moments, confusing Jensen even further.
Time has become almost treacle-slow as Jensen listens to the story, but it speeds right back up again when a female voice shouts, “That’s him!” and the air is filled with the thudding of boots. The boots are connected to several angry men, who while not on the same scale as yeti-Jared are certainly not tiny, and who seem to be making their way towards Jensen at warp speed.
After that, time is blurry again. Jensen is aware of fists and feet; of grunts and yells and Jared’s furious “What the fuck!” and of bodies nearer and further away from him. He goes (literally) into fight mode, his body using Dean’s moves without his brain’s permission, and it seems to work because there is clear air in front of him, a dark Vancouver street which has never looked so inviting in all his years in the city.
Instinct makes him turn around and he sees Jared and Jordan still enmeshed in a knot of movement. There are three men on the floor now, and he knows he put at least two of them there himself; but that still leaves five attacking Jared (and Jordan), and frankly that’s five too many. He rushes back into the fray, an elbow to the face here, tripping a guy there; aware of the other two making similar moves. With a final roundhouse kick, he sends the last man flying to the floor with a crunch; and he, Jared and Jordan look at each other, silent and unsure what to do next. One of their assailants moves on the ground, groans, and spits out blood with the words, “You motherfuckers, the cops are gonna be here in a second and…”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Jared yelps, grabs Jensen’s arm and hustles him into a run. Jordan following, they sprint down the road, twisting and turning with a vain sense that it might throw imaginary policemen off their scent.
When they finally come to a halt, chests heaving, in a more familiar part of Vancouver, Jensen looks at Jared and sees the blood on his face, the way he is cradling his hand to his chest. He’s suddenly hit by a wave of fear much greater than he’s felt all night, worried that Jared is badly hurt. It’s strong, and visceral, and completely irrational, and wholly uncontrollable. “Jay,” he says, grabbing Jared by the shoulders and peering into his face, “Jay, are you ok? Jay, are you badly hurt? What’s wrong with your hand?” Adrenaline is coursing through his veins and making him almost frantic, and he can’t stop asking for long enough to let Jared answer.
Finally, Jared cups his good hand around Jensen’s face and looks into his eyes, and Jensen feels his breathing slow. Jared slides his palm to the curve of Jensen’s neck and shoulder, where his hand fits easily into place. “I’m fine, Jen. Just fine. You were amazing.” His voice is low, almost awed. “I’d be a lot worse if you hadn’t come back.”
Jensen becomes aware that Jordan is standing to one side. He looks amused, but also bloody and torn up. Jensen’s mama raised him right, so he drags his eyes away from Jared, the effort seeming to physically hurt, and asks, “Jordan, you ok?”
“I’ve been better,” Jordan replies. He grimaces, winces from the cuts on his face, and schools his face into a less painful expression. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up. Your apartment is round here, right Jay?”
They make a slow trek home, aware that no taxi driver is going to take them looking like they do. They patch each other up, quiet and shaky now that the adrenaline is fading from their systems, and Jensen looks long and hard at Jared’s hand. “You should go to the hospital.”
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse and it’s just been sprained.”
Jensen makes an irritated noise. “If it’s not better in the morning, you’re going to the emergency room.”
“Yes, mom.” Jared’s reply is fond and soft, and without bite. His eyes flick up at Jensen through his hair in a way that should be completely impossible for someone so much taller, still filled with the same wonder as earlier.
When he’s finally cleared up, Jensen takes a taxi back to his apartment, still reeling and off-kilter. It’s been a night that he will never forget; not least because it’s another night when the depth of his feelings for Jared startle him with their intensity.
*
Season three starts off ok. Everything is normal for a while, but as the weeks march on and the series proves to be the most stressful so far, with the writers’ strike hanging heavy over everyone’s head, Jensen starts to notice that Jared - his puppyish, exuberant (dare he say it) best friend forever Jared - is less bouncy than normal.
Jared bought a house at the start of the season, claiming his dogs (his babies, every time he says it Jensen snorts) need more fresh air and space to run around. Jensen is not about to disagree with that; he’s never met two dogs with more energy that Harley and Sadie. He spends a lot of his time at Jared’s, playing video games, watching shit tv and crashing in one of the spare rooms when he’s too tired to go home.
As a result, he can’t help but become aware that things are strained, and growing more so, between Jared and Sandy. Jared doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, but angry, tense phonecalls with Jared talking in cut off sentences rather than his usual cheerful babble don’t signal ‘happy couple’ to Jensen. Jared inevitably crashes back onto the sofa after these conversations, picking up the controller and taking out his frustrations on the innocent characters in Mario Kart. It’s clear, too, that Jared is more tired than normal; he starts to be grumpy in the morning and occasionally doesn’t even make it up for the ridiculous run he does every day before breakfast; just stumbles his way towards the coffee machine when he finally does get up in a way that their driver jibes is a perfect impression of Jensen.
One night in January is particularly bad. It’s been a difficult day on set, the cast and crew freezing their asses off together on a long shoot, and Jensen is crashing at Jared’s because he has an actual log fire. A call from Sandy, though, quickly turns the atmosphere more frigid than the weather outside; and Jensen calls it a night, thinking that Jared might need his own space.
He’s woken up, some indeterminate time later, by soft sounds in his room. He stills, before becoming aware that the noise is coming from Jared, who is standing over his bed, shivering and looking unsure.
“Jay?” he mumbles, not sure if this is a hallucination or a dream (though surely, if that were so, his toes wouldn’t be so cold?).
“Jen,” Jared starts. “Jen.” He doesn’t seem able, or willing, to go on, and Jensen frowns at him, tired and unprepared to engage in middle of the night Jared-based guesswork.
“What’s up, Jay?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Jared pauses, again, and then rushes out, “canigetinwithyouitusedtohelpmewithmybrotherwheniwaslittle.”
Jensen goggles for a minute, too tired for this nonsense, and then it clicks. Jared is staring at him with those huge puppy eyes that get both him and Sam Winchester pretty much whatever they want, and its ass-o’clock in the morning; he doesn’t have the willpower to resist this. “Yeah, get in. But do not steal all the covers and do not kick me in the night.”
Jared hops under the covers, his chilly skin immediately cooling the bed. Jensen expects him to roll over onto his front, the way he normally sleeps; he isn’t at all prepared for the way Jared immediately snuggles up, tucking his head under Jensen’s chin.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” he confesses, quiet and sad. “I just can’t. Maybe this will help.”
He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect Jared to be a sleep-cuddler, the man curls into Jensen at the slightest opportunity when they’re awake. It should bother him, to be so close to another man, but even half asleep, Jensen knows that he’d do anything to stop Jared from using that tone of voice.
Jared relaxes as soon as he realises Jensen isn’t going to judge him, or push him away, and they fall asleep, Jensen’s toes now toasty-warm. When he wakes up in the morning, Jared has gone out for his run and the coffee machine is brewing, and the dark circles under his eyes have retreated, just a little.
*
A couple of weeks later, and it becomes obvious that things between Sandy and Jared have deteriorated even further. Jared is a quiet whisper of himself, putting all his effort into Sam and leaving little over for real life. Jensen thinks, too, that Sam’s frantic worry about his brother is affecting Jared; blurring the lines between losing Dean and losing Sandy.
Jared slips into bed with him a couple more times, enough to get the sleep he needs to keep going; and Jensen has taken to staying over more frequently and leaving his door open at night. It’s not enough to make Jared seek him out every evening, though; Jared seems reluctant to ask for too much support, maybe because he seems reluctant to admit how badly things are wrong.
Jared travels down to LA one weekend, leaving Jensen at his house to look after his dogs (“Babies, Jen, they’re my babies. Make sure you treat them well. Their needs before yours, remember.”) Jensen nearly jumps out of his skin when he realises someone is in the room with him on the Saturday night, someone who is very definitely trying to crawl into the bed and snuggle into his side. The beers he had with Tom and Mike must have affected him more than he thought, because it takes him a ridiculous amount of time to realise that its Jared, rather than a worryingly cuddly burglar.
“Jay?” he croaks, heart still pounding. “Why’re you here?”
“Came back early,” is the reply muffled straight into Jensen’s collarbone.
“No shit. Why? Is everything ok?”
There is a long silence, and Jensen thinks that Jared has either fallen asleep or isn’t willing to talk. And then, “Broke up with Sandy. Well. She broke up with me.” The words are so quiet that even in the quiet of the early hours, Jensen has to strain to hear them; but when he does his body goes cold with a detached kind of dread.
“Jay, I’m so sorry.”
Jared mumbles something incoherent again. Jensen agrees, really. When something like this happens, there aren’t really any words. He tightens his arms around his best friend and holds him close. It takes a long time for Jared to relax into sleep, and dawn is gleaming under the edges of the curtains before Jensen’s eyes finally drift shut.
*
Jared has always needed comfort through touch, more than words, and the next few weeks are no exception. He wants to be near Jensen whenever he can; sits as close as possible, walks with his arm around Jensen’s shoulder and puts his head in Jensen’s lap whenever they watch films, although his attention wanders too much to follow most of them until the end.
That first Sunday night, after Sandy, he seems unsure and lost and Jensen just can’t bear it. He takes his toothbrush and razor up to Jared’s room, undresses to his shorts and tshirt, and settles himself under Jared’s covers. When Jared comes out of the bathroom, Jensen says, “One rule: clothes. I know you sleep naked up here.” It surprises a snort of laughter out of Jared, diffuses the tension and removes the need for conversation all in ten words, which Jensen thinks must be some kind of record. Jared gets in beside him, and Jensen hasn’t slept anywhere else since.
*
Things get worse for a while. Jensen feels like he is wading through treacle, like he is pushing against the tide; trying everything he can think of to help Jared. There are many quiet nights where he plays his guitar, Jared lying by his side and petting his dogs; there are mornings when Jared struggles to get out of bed and onto set and Jensen bribes him with anything he can think of; days when things seem lighter and they drag Harley and Sadie for long runs through quiet places, taking advantage of the beauty Canada has to offer (even if it is so different to Texas). The writers’ strike makes everything worse; a short visit from Jason, who demands nothing from Jared but consistently includes him in every joke during the weekend, makes things slightly better again. Jared finally talks one day in his trailer, and after that, things slowly, oh so slowly, get better.
By the end of the vastly shortened season, Jensen has spent no more than a few nights in his apartment altogether, and never more than one night in a row. It makes sense to say that when they come back (if they come back) he will move in with Jared. It should be crazy, the thought of living with the man he works sixteen-hour days with, but in his heart he knows that there is no such thing for him as spending too much time around his best friend.
*
It happens suddenly, and yet almost without Jensen realising.
They’ve never quite gotten out of the habit of sharing a bed, even though Jensen has a perfectly good bed down in what is officially ‘his room’. He’s been living at Jared’s for a couple of months when Jared peeks up at him, sleep-tousled and pink, one morning, and presses a kiss to his mouth. Jensen is kissing back before he has even thought about it, morning-sour and unbearably sweet, and his whole body thrums with joy at the same time as it relaxes into a feeling that this is really nothing out of the ordinary.
They kiss until their mouths are swollen, and then Jared gets up and goes on with his day, gets ready for his run, as if their world hasn’t just irrevocably changed, and really, Jensen supposes, it hasn’t. This has always been there, just underneath, in amongst everything else that they do that is the province of couples, and now it’s finally out in the open where it belongs.
Of course, kisses soon aren’t enough, and hands scrabbling over skin aren’t enough, and mouths skimming over secret places aren’t enough, and hips pulsating against each other aren’t enough, and their inability to wait until they get home means that their new relationship doesn’t stay secret for very long, because their trailers aren’t exactly soundproof.
They are both shocked to find out that half the crew thought they were already together, and the other half had created an elaborate sweepstake, overseen by Kim, of all people, to guess when they would finally “realise what the rest of us have known since day fucking one, you idiots”. Brad is the lucky winner, and walks away several thousand dollars richer to add to his sense of smug satisfaction.
It only takes Jensen a couple of weeks to realise that he is utterly, completely, down the rabbit hole, crazy in love with Jared. Luckily for him, Jared has always been incapable of holding back once he has something to tell Jensen, and the big reveal comes one evening, as they are curled together, the words whispered soft and shy into Jensen’s throat. It only takes Jensen a second to blurt out his response, a desperate, heartfelt, “Me too,” breathed into the crown of Jared’s head; words Jensen has never said to a lover before; another way that Jared is different to everything he has ever known.
*
As the years pass, almost everything of importance between them takes place under their covers.
The difficult conversations about Danni and Genevieve, about making the decision to get married, and hashing out water-tight pre-nups all take place in their bed, in the safety and security of a space that is just theirs.
The biggest conversation of their life (Jensen will later think), takes place one Sunday morning after Jared comes back from Texas. “Genevieve’s pregnant,” he tells Jensen, eyes wide and slightly panicky. “It worked. I’m gonna have a baby.” Jensen spends the next couple of hours reassuring Jared that he’s going to be a great father, that every man feels worried about parenting before the baby arrives and that it will all be ok once he’s holding Baby Padalecki.
Each season, they have the discussion about whether to carry on with Supernatural while they are cuddled up together, and each season, Jensen knows that the decision is irretrievably influenced by the fact that the conversation happens in their bed, in Jensen’s apartment that is really their apartment, in Vancouver where they can be together all the time. He thinks that maybe, if they were in Texas, where things are inevitably more difficult, huddled in the bed in Jared’s guest house, or later, in his own boathouse, rather than in their actual houses where their wives are sleeping, perhaps they might not feel so positive. But from being somewhere where they were homesick, Vancouver has become their home, their sanctuary to be just them, and each year they decide to carry on the story of Sam and Dean.
One of the first times that Jensen really feels like Tom’s dad, rather than his somewhat-surplus to requirements uncle, is in the bed he shares with Jared. Genevieve is away for the weekend, and Jared has gone for a run; Tom, still tiny but perfectly able now to climb out of his cot and get around by himself, comes skittering into their room after a bad dream. Jensen’s heart swells almost out of his chest when Tom doesn’t even do a double take that his father isn’t there, just flings himself onto the bed and into Jensen’s arms, trembling in fear. Jensen comforts him until he falls asleep again, listening to his unclear explanation of the monster in his dream (at least it wasn’t a clown, Jensen thinks). When Jared returns, he finds Jensen and Tom curled up together, Tom sleeping peacefully, and he can’t resist the urge to slide back into bed with them. Jensen smiles and smiles and smiles as the family he has created lays by his side.
JJ’s first word is spoken in their bed, where she and Tom tend to spend Sunday mornings when their fathers are at home. Jensen is lying on his back, listening to Tom babble fairly coherently about horses, his hand playing idly with Jared’s hair, keeping an eye on Shep in his cot. Suddenly, JJ sits up on his tummy and says clearly, “Jay”, reaching out her arms to Jared. “Jay, Jay, Jay, Jay, Jay,” she says, demandingly, until Jared picks her up and she shrieks in delight. “Jay,” she says again, pulling his hair, and Jensen beams at Jared and Jared grins back, and Jensen can’t even be disappointed that he is not his daughter’s first word, because it’s just more proof that their little family really works, and anyway, in all the years that he has known Jared, he’s never been able to be upset about anything that makes Jared that happy.
*
So it’s no surprise, then, that when they make the decision to finally end the epic love story of Sam and Dean, they’re under the covers, on a grimy Sunday morning in Vancouver; rain pounding against the windows and the sun absent for a long week. The network has been pressuring them to make a decision about series 14; offering more money, better perks, a bigger apartment, the Impalas on weekends, everything but the kitchen sink to keep their steadiest show on the air.
“I think we should stop,” Jared says suddenly, hand tense on Jensen’s arm, nails digging in slightly with the importance of the announcement. “I think we should go back to Texas and spend more time with the kids.”
Jensen can’t disagree. Supernatural has been their lives; Sam and Dean feel like their twin soulmates, always alongside but just slightly out of reach. But the Winchester’s story is ending, and he knows that it’s time for another era of his own to begin. He and Jared can move back to Austin full-time, take a couple of years off, get their businesses off the ground. He thinks of Jesse and Cesar, the hunters who return to normal life with Dean’s blessing in season 11, and knows that Dean would be on their side.
“I agree.”
Jared hugs him tight, tighter than is comfortable really, and as so often happens, Jensen is overwhelmed with how much he loves this man; with how frequently they are on the same page and how much he is looking forward to spending the rest of his life with Jared.
This time each morning and evening, them curled into each other’s bodies, trading sleepy whispers and exasperated snark, has been the bedrock of their friendship, first; alongside a slightly uncomfortable realisation for Jensen that not only do bros not do this but that he didn’t give a flying fuck; and later, with a ringing exultance in their changed relationship, which has defied so much to be the abiding joy of his life.
Jensen has no way of knowing, of course, but he hopes that when they leave this world for their shared spot in heaven, it will on the same night, Jared’s nose tucked into his neck and their limbs intertwined, the way they have started almost every night of their lives since the middle of season three. It might be, that at eighty or ninety or one hundred years old, their bodies have finally given up their incessant craving for each other (although, so many years later, that shows no sign of slowing down), but he hopes that even then, they’ll still want to sleep as wound around each other, still be as reliant on their physical closeness as there are now. By then, (he hopes) JJ and Shep and Tom will be strong and resilient and prepared for their fathers to leave life together, because he knows that he won’t last long without Jared.