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Jared has a guilty secret.
He doesn't have many secrets – pretty much anything and everything just comes out of his mouth, usually, and he's ok with that, because he likes to think he's learned his lesson about hiding things, and what it can do to you. So there isn't much he hasn't told his family, or Gen or Jen, or someone. But this....isn't exactly something he's comfortable talking to Gen or Jen about, because, although it's totally not like that, there's a small possibility they might, maybe, get totally the wrong idea.
The night is wearing on, re-runs of some soap on the TV, light from the hallway pooling in warm streaks across the floor. Gen's asleep, wiped out after a long day with Tom, and Jared knows he should head to bed. He will, in a minute. Any minute now. Just....maybe he'll go on the computer first. Only for ten minutes.
He thinks Gen might know, or at least suspect. She's come in while he's doing it a couple of times and given him this look, kind of suspicious but kind of amused. On the other hand, maybe she just thinks he's looking at porn or pretending to be a teenage girl on Bebo or something like that. Anyway, she hasn't said anything.
Jared sighs, pours himself another glass of wine, flips his laptop open on his lap, and comforts himself with the thought that of all the seedy things he could be doing on the internet at night without his wife's knowledge, this definitely isn't the worst. Not even close.
The fact is that sometimes, Jared likes to read fanfiction about himself. Not about Sam, although that would be weird enough. About Jared.
Jared scrunches up his face in shame and kneads his forehead with his knuckles, but his moderate guilt and mild self-loathing don't stop him from opening his favorites and quickly clicking on the one named 'CW Survey'. He named it that because Gen hates surveys. Oh, God, he's having an online affair with himself.
He'll just finish this one story. He just needs to know what happens. This one's one of the best he's read, with him and Jensen as heroic, wisecracking fighter pilots. In space. Misha's in it too, as a enigmatic, hedonistic smuggler, and Jeffrey Dean Morgan's their gruff commander who might, Jared thinks, turn out to be evil in the end. Or maybe that's just what the readers are supposed to think. The evil mastermind is a mystery at the moment, but he's got an inkling it might turn out to be Chad, or possibly Rosenbaum. Either way, he's kind of been waiting all day to find out, and this won't take long. There are only six or seven more chapters to go.
These are the kinds of stories Jared likes best, the ones so far divorced from reality that it doesn't feel so much like a strange, hit and miss mishmash of his own life and melodramatic fantasy. He's tried reading a few of the stories about him where he's, you know, him, making Supernatural and things, and it's just too uneasy. The bits that are familiar throw the bits that are all wrong into too sharp a contrast, and he can't really get immersed. He much prefers the ones where he gets to be something totally different.
There are quite a lot about him and Jensen in high school or college, and although some of the college ones made him laugh his ass off, especially the ones with Chad, they're not really his thing either. He's done with high school, and although it wasn't too bad, he has no desire to relive it.
Jared's favourite was one about him and Jensen teaming up to fight dragons. The story was really enthralling, full of action and humor, and the characters were pretty spot on – Jared could almost see Jensen saying the lines, could imagine himself reacting the way it was laid out there. There was also a brilliant one where they were NFL players, and a Wild-West one that was actually really scary, and a beautifully written one set in eastern Europe where he was an anthro-archaeologist, and a WW2 one that made him cry when he thought Misha was going to die, and one where Jensen and he were touring in a band with Chris and Steve in the eighties, and one where they were all werewolves and....well, actually, that one got a little weird.
And there it is. The elephant in his brain. The reason he can't talk to his wife or his best friend about this little habit he's acquired. Because, ok, it's a little egotistical, but reading stories about yourself isn't the biggest deal. And it's not like they're really about him, anyway, the fans are just using his name and face (and body, although some of the descriptions of certain parts of him are a little....presumptive) for their own character. It's just like one of those books you can order for your kids with their name put in. I mean, who wouldn't want to read about themselves being a pirate or a detective or a prohibition-era rum-runner? It's fun.
No, the reason he can't really tell anyone is that the stories.....usually have some sex in them. Well, quite a lot of sex, actually. Quite often the whole point of the story is the sex. And...although Genevieve is in lots of them, and sometimes Jared and her do hook up, the sex is usually.....pretty Jensen-centric. Jensen's usually involved. Jared's usually also involved. With the sex. The Jensen-and-Jared-sex.
The first time he actually read any porntastic porn about himself and Jensen was during the filming of Season Four. Jared was just kicking back in Jensen's trailer, eating all his food and waiting for him to get out of the shower, when Misha came running in, holding a laptop and grinning like a slightly stoned cheshire cat, climbed on a chair, and proceeded to read out an extremely R-rated story about the two of them in a Shakespearean baritone.
Misha got as far as the part about Jensen's 'slick, pink, winking hole' before Jared tackled him to the ground and held a cushion over his face until he tapped out, still laughing hysterically.
When Jensen came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, he just shrugged, said 'No gay sex in my trailer', and poked Jared with his toe. Jared, still sitting on Misha's heaving chest, pointed mutely at the laptop, and Jensen leaned down and briefly scanned the page.
'I think I'm gonna be sick,' he said, completely straight-faced. 'Also, I don't think a cowboy would have time to bleach his asshole.'
Jared had been peripherally aware that there were crazy fans who wrote porny stories about Sam and Dean, and even some who wrote stories about him and Jensen and David Boreanaz or whoever else, but he'd kind of pictured it as a couple of websites, a few really dedicated nutjobs sending them to each other from their mother's basements. Not this, not this huge library of thousands and thousands of stories, universes, serials, art. After he saw the one Misha found, though, he explored a bit more, initially to try to find one equally disturbing about Misha to gross him out with. At first there weren't any, but as soon as Season Four hit the air, it exploded, and it was with great satisfaction that Jared snuck into Misha's trailer and taped a story involving Misha being enthusiastically spit-roasted by Jensen and Vicki all over the walls.
After that, though....he just, didn't really stop reading. He found more and more well-written, captivating stories, long ones, and he kind of got addicted. It's not because of the sex – he usually skips those bits, scrolling through with one eye squeezed closed – it's the fun, and the jokes, and the drama and action and adventure. He read one yesterday where he was a barbarian warrior and Jensen was a Roman soldier, and it was awesome. He wouldn't have become an actor, he muses to himself as he refills his glass and clicks through to the next chapter, if somewhere deep down he wasn't just a little kid who loved stories, who wanted to be a grizzled swordsman running through the forests of ancient Gaul or a courageous starfighter facing down aliens.
But he doesn't really mind all the homo-tastic sexytimes, and that's the part he doesn't think he'd really be able to explain to Gen or Jen or even Misha. Because actually, although the writers get lots of things about him wrong, there's one part they've got completely right. He does love Jensen.
Not in a 'slick, pink, winking hole' way, more in a 'I never want you to not be in my life' way. And he kind of likes it, the idea that out there in imagination-land, he and Jensen are living infinite lives, in infinite different worlds, together. Somewhere, they're blowing up the Death Star and shouting 'I object' in a courtroom and painting masterpieces in renaissance Rome and zapping Milo Ventagmilia with their superpowers and running animal sanctuaries and discovering Atlantis. He likes the idea that this lifetime isn't the only one he's getting to spend with Jensen. He likes the idea that whatever and whoever and wherever they are, they'll find each other.
Jesus, he thinks, I am such a fucking sap when I drink.
And if in those other worlds, those other lifetimes, he and Jensen hook up and have dirty, unrealistically jizztastic, overly-detailed sex? Well, Jared's weirdly fine with that.
That's not how it is, not here. It's not even how he wants it to be. Jared's happy with the way his life is turning out, really happy. He loves his wife and son, he loves his job, he loves his best friend. But in another life? If they really had been firefighters or cops or accountants?
Well, maybe.
Jared finishes the chapter and continues to the next with dread growing in his stomach. Jared, Jensen and Chad are halfway through a deadly zero-gee dogfight, and it's not looking good. He suspects Misha's going to swoop in, Han Solo style, but he's pretty sure they're not all going to make it out alive.
A few minutes later, he's chewing on his knuckles and telling himself that yep, drinking before he reads these things is a really bad idea, because there's no way he should be this emotional about a story on the damn internet. Misha did swoop in, but not before Chad went up in flames and tracer fire ripped through Jensen's cockpit, rendering his manual controls utterly useless. Jared (the character Jared; real Jared still finds this confusing) used the illegal modifications he'd installed in his fighter to remotely fly Jensen's crippled ship back to base, barely waiting for the airlock to close before he was running, tearing open Jensen's ship and pulling him out of his mangled seat.
Now Jensen's bleeding out on the cold floor, breath coming in ragged gasps, body shaking as he coughs up gelatinous strands of blood and lung. Jared is cradling his head as he fights for his life, screaming for help from somebody, anybody, screaming at Jensen not to leave him.
And Jared (real Jared, that is) feels the tears starting to burn in his eyes, feels his chest begin to heave, because this is another thing that's one hundred-fucking-percent true. If anything ever happened to Jensen, if he hurt himself or – oh God - was dying, Jared's absolutely certain he would lose his shit in a spectacular way. He remembers the way Jensen was when Jared broke his arm, and when he broke his hand; the jokes and the scorn, and the soft, furious look in his eyes. Jared sniffs ungracefully, and he's reaching for his phone before he knows what he's doing.
It rings for nearly eight rings, and then Jensen picks up.
'Uh?'
Shit. He was asleep. Jared had forgotten, for a moment, that Jensen's so far away, all the way down in Texas. Not across town. Not just downstairs, in the space that's empty now. Back then, when Jared could close his eyes and tell himself he could hear Jensen's breathing, soft and even through the floorboards, he'd call him from his bed sometimes, just to hear his voice, and they'd talk, monosyllabic and easy, until they fell asleep. But there are miles and miles and years between them now.
'Hey,' says Jared, trying to control his breathing.
'Jare' mumbles Jensen, the voice achingly familiar across the miles. 'Whassup?'
'Nothin'. Just. You're ok, right?'
Jared hears Jensen's soft grunt, the creaking of bedsprings, pictures him rolling over in his warm bed, trying not to wake Danneel.
'Yeah, man, I'm good. Or I was, until some dumbass woke me up. You ok?' Jared can hear Jensen's concern, sudden worry pulling him from sleep.
'I'm fine. Just. Love you.'
Jensen lets out a small huff of breath, and Jared knows he's smiling.
'You drinking, Jay?'
Jared smiles into the phone, knowing Jensen will see it, easily as if he'd been there. 'Yeah.'
Jensen chuckles, warm and drowsy, and Jared feels his breath beginnning to calm, the ache in his chest dissapating.
'Love you too, Jare.'
Jared finishes the story. It all turns out ok, although Jensen won't fly again. Then he gently closes the laptop and checks on Thomas, marveling, as ever, at the quiet perfection of his breathing, the promise in the curl of his tiny hands. When he slides into cool sheets and slots himself against his wife's warm, sleeping body, he knows he's got everything he could possibly want.