ladyjanelly

Title: Re-cast (scar!verse) ch 7/?
Author: Ladyjanelly
Rating: R
Characters: Jensen/Jared,
Summary: Jensen stopped acting in 2000. He still runs into Jared.
Warning: Men sexing men, AU.
Disclaimer: Never happened, not my boys.
Betaed by the lovely

unperfectwolf Thanks so much for the super-speedy beta.
Feedback: Will be cherished.

CHAPTER 7

It isn’t so much that Jared moves in. Instead, the things he needs to spend longer and longer periods of time and Jensen's apartment seem to migrate there.

At first it’s a set of dog dishes, "Daddy’s Girl" and "Spoiled Rotten", that Jensen buys and sets up in a corner of the kitchen. Jared’s overnight pack that he keeps in the truck seems heavy when he brings it into Jen's home and light every time he leaves. If his toothbrush and shampoo and a couple candles end up in Jensen's bathroom, it’s no big deal, right?

There is never an official "Hey, I’d like you to live here" moment. Jared wakes up one morning to find a key with a cheesy Texas keychain on the nightstand by his wallet and cell phone. It’s easy, and there’s no pressure. Jared starts spending every weekend there, from Friday night until Monday morning, and sometimes a few nights during the week.

He brings a suit one Friday for some network thing he’s got to go to on Saturday. "Mind if I hang this up?" he asks, not wanting to be rude and invade Jensen's personal space.

"Nah, of course not," Jensen replies, busy with scratching the dogs hello. "There’s some room on the right of the closet."

Jared steps in and has to smile, because the right third of the closet is completely cleaned out. Shoe rack, clothes rack, overhead shelf, are all empty, all for him. This is Jensen, saying "Be part of my life."

He’s trying to formulate a heart-felt yet not-sappy response to that when his hand brushes over something rich and soft on Jen's side. His eyes confirm what his fingers discovered. His time with Sandy taught him the importance of designer names, and his fingers are checking the suit’s tag before he can think about it.

Instead of "I love you too and I’m glad to be here," he blurs out "Jensen? Is this a freakin’ Prada in your closet?"

Jen steps over, his expression bland, too casual. "Huh? I guess so. Why?"

Jared can’t stop the wheels that turn in his head if he tries, and he’s not trying. He grabs the hanger and thrusts it into Jensen's hands. "Get dressed."

Jensen looks startled, only taking the suit when it looks like Jared might drop it if he doesn’t. "What? Why? I’m not even sure if it still fits."

Jared can’t say; it would ruin the surprise and that’s half the fun, so he pulls out the big guns: the puppy-dog eyes he’s used on Jensen so sparingly.

"Please Jen? For me?"

Jensen's lips twitch with restrained mirth. "I am so whipped," he grouses, but he still gathers up the charcoal suit, a steel-grey dress shirt, socks, tie and glossy black dress shoes and disappears into the bathroom.

"Hey!" Jared calls from the outside. "Hey, no fair."

He swears he can hear Jensen snickering from inside.

"Your other daddy is an ass," he tells the dogs before he hurries to put them in the living room and get his own suit on and still have time to make reservations.

He’s putting his phone away when the bathroom door opens again and Jensen steps out.

Jared almost pisses himself in shock because this Jensen is so different. He carries himself like he owns the town, exuding casual arrogance with every step. His gaze, usually open and warm, has gone into full-on smoldering and challenging, full of promises that Jared’s not sure he’s experienced enough to even understand.

Jensen leans his shoulder against the bathroom door-frame, making Jared be the one to move if he wants to be closer.

Hey, Jared thinks to himself, this must be what a moth feels, right before the flash-crackle of the bug-zapper.

"Jesus," he breathes, drawn in by an overwhelming need to touch. A quick flick of green eyes betray that Jen's checking him out too, and by the warm wicked grin that spreads on his face, he likes what he sees.

"You don’t clean up half bad yourself, San Antone."

Jared’s not sure when he got so close, but Jen's fingers slip under his belt and pull him in until their bodies are flush against each other.

"Jen," Jared whispers, "You’re so-- you’re so beautiful."

"Jared." Jensen's voice is soft, but there’s a tone of warning in it, like this conversation could go places that neither of them want.

Jared doesn’t want to argue, can’t bear to hear Jensen calling himself ugly or something.

"I just--" Anything else he could say would be stupid or wrong so he presses their lips together, trying to show Jensen the things he can’t get away with speaking.

Jensen returns the kiss, tongue flicking against Jared’s. It tastes like love and forgiveness and happily ever after. Jen's fingers caress Jared’s sides, the pressure dancing along the border between tickling and arousing.

"Is this the part where we wrinkle our suits and give the overnight drycleaners interesting stains to gossip about?" Jensen's sly tease and wicked grin are back.

"Nope," Jared replies, because as good as that sounds, he has a plan damn it. "I made us reservations at Lumiere."

The way Jensen's cocky smile falters and fades is like that day when he stopped reading Dean’s lines, Jared thinks. Jensen looks so vulnerable without it and Jared struggles to figure what he said to make it all go so wrong.

"Jare," Jensen says, too gentle. Jared wants to kick himself for pushing too far, too fast and maybe Jensen isn’t ready for this, for people to see them together.

"Never mind, I’m sorry. I’ll call and cancel." Please don’t say the words, don’t tell me you want this less than I do.

Jensen's hand tightens on Jared’s hip, keeping him from pulling away.

"Hey." He waits until Jared gets the nerve up to meet his eyes before he continues. "I’m not saying I don’t want this." His thumb caresses Jared’s jaw, fingers cradling the side of his neck. "But this isn’t the two of us hanging out at a bar with the rest of the guys. Two men, out at a place like that -- people will notice, Jared."

He tugs lightly and Jared leans in, chest to chest. "You’re somebody now. People will talk. One picture from a camera-phone could end up on the tabloids, if not now, five years from now when things really take off for you." Jensen looks so worried that Jared has to take him seriously.

"You know as well as I do that this business isn’t as open-minded as it pretends to be, how easy it is to be remembered for who you’re sleeping with more than your last role." Jensen sighs and the grip of his hand on the back of Jared’s neck is almost too tight for comfort. "I don’t want that for you. Not for some spur of the moment plan, no matter how romantic and wonderful that plan was. Sleep on it, and if you still want this, we can do it another time, I promise."

"Okay," Jared murmurs. Jen's right. It’s a big deal, career wise, and Jensen must think he’s an idiot, but at least he wasn’t saying no because he’d be embarrassed to be seen in a nice restaurant with a doofus like Jared.

Jensen pauses a moment, then leans in and brushes their mouths together. His tongue flicks across Jared’s lips, encouraging. It’s nice, but Jared refuses to be completely distracted.

"I’ll think about it," Jared says when they break apart, and in the stubborn depths of his heart he already knows what he’s going to decide.

"Don’t feel like you have to do it for me," Jensen says. "It sucks but I can handle it. Coming into this, I never expected romantic dinners out. I never thought I’d be the one on your arm when you walk down the red carpet." He gives Jared another little shake, making sure he’s listening. "I’m not gonna be pissed at you just because the world sucks like that, and I don’t expect you to sabotage your career over the little stuff."

And that, that gets Jared more angry--not at Jensen, but the whole situation. "You deserve better," he says, knowing he can’t win.

"You do too," Jensen whispers against Jared’s jaw.

It sucks and it pisses him off, but at least they’re in it together. They stand like that for a long moment, absorbing strength from each other, being close.

"Hey," Jensen says at last, "I bet even a place like that’ll do take-out if you ask. Why don’t you go get the food and I’ll set up here."

"Yeah, okay," says Jared, even though it isn’t the same and they both know it. It’s not the end of the world, not the end of anything at all, and he can stop being a big baby about not getting everything exactly like he wants it any minute now.

He keeps telling himself that, but it’s not true until he comes back from the restaurant. Jen's there to help him carry the bags in. The dogs are locked away and Jen's coffee table has been transformed into a tiny romantic retreat, complete with linen napkins, the good plates and silverware, tall candles and a set of crystal stemware. The stereo is playing something soft and classy, violins instead of fiddles.

There’s something incredibly silly about two grown men sitting on the floor in thousand-dollar suits, eating French cuisine off of a coffee table, and it’s hard to stay disappointed that they’re not in a snooty restaurant for long.

Jared drinks three glasses of wine and Jen drinks half of one. He makes a face at the taste, laughing that he’d forgotten how tart it can be. Jensen doesn’t seem tipsy, but the alcohol flushes his cheeks beautifully. Jared’s hand cups Jensen's face before he can figure out if it’s the cool thing to do, stroking his thumb over the scarred cheek. Jen nuzzles into the touch though, so it must not be too dorky.

The pink of Jensen's tongue flicks out against Jared’s palm. Jared never knew his hand was connected to his dick by that many nerves. The fire is back in those green eyes, along with the wicked promises, the wordless challenges. Those soft pink lips close over his middle finger and suck it down, teasing-slow as they pull back again.

"If you plan on wearing that suit tomorrow," Jensen says between licks and teeth-scrapes over Jared’s palm and quick nips to the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, "You might want to take it off now. Because I promise you, I’m about to rumple the hell out of you."

As dirty talk goes, the phrase has to be the most vanilla line Jared’s ever heard. His dick still goes from "pretty interested" to "right now oh god, please" in 2.2 seconds though.

He’s so screwed.