gravity cannot be held responsiblerating.
(pre-slash) Jensen/Jared.notes and summary.
Jensen has a hopeless crush, and he's okay with that. 1200wc of a quiet moment on set for waterofthemoon
's birthday. “If you live to be 100,
I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day,
so I never have to live without you.”
- Winnie the Pooh.
Last day on set really isn't that bad, not at all. Could be worse - could be last day ever - but thank God and lucky stars and knock on wood it hasn't come to that just yet, not yet.
His director's chair is set up just behind the first unit cameras, like always, and Jared's there already, two coffee cups in his hands just barely balancing both, and he holds one out to Jensen, says hey Jen with something of a smile on his face.
Jensen grins wide, settles on down beside Jared and grabs one of the coffee cups; he tastes it and it's as comfortable as it always is.
"Hi, Jensen," Jared's voice would have been behind him, and if he could choose, the way this conversation would go would be more lips and teeth than words and almost touches, something between a whole-hearted all-body hug and a desperate don't want to let go that he craves and can't help but hope for.
"Jen!" Jared's voice is sharp, nearly a bark like one of his dogs, and Jensen turns enough to get bowled over, almost knocked down by a tacklehug, like what he'd almost hope for.
Jared shifts back, starts rambling about his film project, how he's going to go visit Sandy and play with his dogs, and Jensen stops listening, just watches and lets Jared talk all he wants.
Jensen's not like Dean, not really. For one, he kind of likes flying, likes the rollercoaster feel of taking off, the breathless feel of landing safe. The interim and the aftermath, though - those are the parts he hates. Being stuck in a metal casing with hundreds of other people, no one there to meet him when he lands.
Jared's voice would be low, and he'd be sitting at the desk - this ornate piece of furniture - he'd get up as Jensen walks in and Jensen would be able to throw his jacket on the bed and amble over, punch Jared's shoulder and smile up with an easy grin. The light in the room would be almost dark enough for shadows, and Jensen would yawn, slip into the shower and Jared would meet him with a joke and towels and everything would be okay.
Jensen braces himself against the cold tile, water down over his shoulders and his back. He tries not to think too hard.
It's late, and Lou's at the bar, leaning on his elbows and with a grin on his face, like something all opening-night triumph.
"Bet you didn't expect Jared to show up, didja?" Lou asks, and Jensen doesn't have to paste on a smile, doesn't take the moment to imagine what it would have been like because it very nearly was.
"No sir, I didn't." He doesn't think he deserved the standing o, but every inch of him is flushed and happy anyways.
The grasses on the crest of the hill dip and roll with the wind, unsteady on their stalks. Cricket snorts, shakes his head and shifts on hooves, Jensen stayed settled astride, keeps an eye on the horizon.
Clouds gathering far away, sky getting dark and grey, like a storm's coming and he still has miles of fence to check before he's done.
Jared's voice would be low and maybe close to his ear, maybe his breath brushing against Jensen's cheekbones.
He knows Jared isn't really here, of course. He know this is a dream, something completely false and unreal but he can't exactly bring himself to care.
"Hi, Jared," Jensen would say, and he would tilt back in the first class seat and lift up the armrest and slide over enough to make it easy to lean against Jared's side, rest his head against a strong shoulder, feel safe and back where he belongs, feel as if he's wanted by somebody who actually wants him back.
His apartment in LA is barely used, and he thinks that his cleaners know the place better than he does.
He barks out a laugh and thinks about how he knows that what's he got is a crush - plain and utterly simple, a crush and that's it, that's all it is - and he kicks at a pebble on the path, leaves still their midsummer green and he's as happy as a schoolgirl, as resigned as a loser in love with the prom queen.
"Hi, Jensen." Jared would say, there behind him, shadows draping all over, leaves blanketing the forest floor. "Hey, Jensen, don't you think it's time you cowboy the fuck up?"
He'd be carrying a couple of beers between fingers, and his slow smile would be an invitation. He'd spread out and Jensen would settle between his thighs, gets comfortable like that's where he belongs.
"This is kind of all I want," Jared would say, and that's all Jensen would want to hear.
Jensen rolls, digs his head into the pillow beside his and pretends so hard it hurts, just for a second.
He's back and raring to go, ready to settle into another year of being Dean and being hopelessly-
Jensen turns, and Jared's right there, smiling.