the reluctant lobotomist (fourfreedoms) wrote,
the reluctant lobotomist

Music is clearly my downfall

[ mood | tired ]
[ music | Turin Brakes-Painkiller ]

Title: The Walk
Disclaimer: Never happened, how would I even know if it did? I'm not that crazy of a fangirl!
Summary: Jensen can't keep away from Jared. It's like Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation: Jensen is just pulled in by Jared's large mass and presence, and when he's there, it feels too good to let go.
Pairing: J-squared
Chapters: 1/1
Genre: angst, slight fluffyness
Rating: R
Acknowledgements: Thank you Imogen Heap for writing a fucking beautiful song for me to base a story on.

Jensen wasn’t quite sure where it started.

After two-weeks spent in Jared’s company, it was like he just couldn’t get enough, like Jared was all he could think about. Jensen hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Amanda McDonald in high school who used to chew bubble yum and break down engines in her platform heels. It scared him, but at the same time he was drawn inextricably, like a moth to flame.

One night they were watching a movie at Jensen’s and drinking a few beers. Jared had said that he’d marry Jensen’s couch if such things were allowed, while stretching his large frame out over the entire thing. Jensen cracked back that that was exactly what the christian right was always warning about.

He'd got a pleasant buzz worked up and was continuously surprised at how the movie was still going on on the screen; it never seemed to end. As he watched an entirely improbably car accident where everybody emerged unscathed, he realized he'd give his right arm to escape TV for something like that.

Jared whispered, “That’s fucking sexy,” when the actor jumped through a window and landed on the hood of a car, only to shoot a driver going in the opposite direction in the face. The tone of Jared’s voice wasn’t the same one guys used when they were looking at sweet cars or high tech gadgets. It was an ‘I want that actor’ tone of voice, and Jensen choked on his beer.

He looked over at Jared, who was staring avidly at the screen, the neck of his beer bottle just at his lips, like he’d been about to take a sip, but had gotten distracted by the actor's aerial maneuvers. And Jensen came to his second realization of the night.

Jared was into guys as well as girls, and he was okay with that. Jared was already way into his personal space. He was with everybody.

Jared suddenly started, as if he was suddenly aware of what he'd said. He looked over at Jensen with a tense expression, his fingers white-knuckled on the neck of his beer bottle. Jensen shrugged and stared at Jared in silence.

“It uh...doesn't bother you?” Jared's accent was thick, as it always was when you got a few beers in him.

No, it didn’t bother him. “I—no, whatever, you like who you like.” He pulled on the collar of his shirt, and smiled slightly to show that it was, indeed, all right.

Jensen had had his dalliances with guys on occasion. Shit happened when you were young and figuring out how your dick worked. But it wasn't important.

Jared turned back to the screen, taking another swallow of beer. “Good.”

Yeah, good, Jensen thought as he directed his attention back to the screen. Suddenly all he could see was Jared entwined with the actor, and while it shouldn't disgust him, or anything, he found himself feeling slightly perturbed.


They were at a party and they were talking about making-out. Mike had launched into some lengthy anecdote about how he missed long involved make-out sessions. Adults don’t do this anymore, he explained, like the rest of his company was still in the fifth grade.

Jared looked pointedly at Jensen’s mouth and said, “I bet they want to with Jensen.”

Jensen blushed and tongued his lower lip before he could stop himself. Jared grinned at him, his eyes half-lidded, the epitome of bedroom eyes, and then he shook his head. And Jensen was left wondering if they'd just had a moment.

“Yes! Jensen has cock-sucking lips.” Mike interjected, clapping Jensen on the back. He froze in mortification.

“What?” Tom nearly shouted, horrified. “Mike, why would you say that out loud?”

Jensen wondered the same thing, he could feel the pink spreading across his cheek bones. He sighed and considered murdering his (former) friend. He snuck a glance at Jared. He was hiding a grin behind his hand and looked only mildly sympathetic. Mike and Tom had descended into their own world where Tom whacked Mike on the back of the head and Mike cackled and batted at him. Jensen and Jared shared a glance and then went to get another beer.

He was lost in plans of how to prank Mike really good in retaliation while the event staff fetched him a Stella. When he looked up he caught Jared staring at him.

Jared grinned, a mischievous one, Jensen had come to know these things, and he said, “He’s right, you know.”

Jensen felt himself blushing again, right across the bridge of his nose, and he coughed to clear his throat. Jared’s eyes turned soft at his hacking, and he reached up and ran his thumb across Jensen’s lower lip. And Holy Christ, Jared, what are you doing? That's what he was supposed to say. They were in fucking public. But he didn't say any of that. The sensation in his lip came into sharp focus--they were tingling and he had the unexplainable urge to pull Jared to him right in front of all these people.

“Photo op!” a reporter shouted, and they snapped out of it. They were shoved in together, and Jensen found himself with his hand over Jared’s heart, ostensibly to catch his balance. But when Jared glanced down at his hand and then at him, he knew he'd been caught.


They went to the gym together on Tuesdays like clockwork and Jared was on the pec-fly. Jensen was not staring at the muscles moving under Jared’s practically painted on t-shirt because that was creepy. He’d been completely ignoring his own workout in favor of staring, and had to force himself back to doing arm curls. He got a few more in by the time Jared let the weights on the machine slide back into place.

“You ready to hit the showers?” He stood up, wiping his face with a towel, looking over at Jensen expectantly.

Jensen practically dropped the free weight and got to his feet to stretch out his shoulders. “Yeah.”

He thought of never-ending blackness as he stood under the punishing hot spray of water to avoid thinking about Jared. It was hard, Jared just wanted to dance right in there. He had to drag himself out earlier than he would've liked. Jared was sitting on the bench in front of his locker. His jeans were still unbuttoned over his boxers and his skin was glistening slightly from the water.

Their eyes connected. And the air between them was like an ocean of awkward. Jensen looked away first. Jared had Sandy, they were both guys in an unfriendly Hollywood world, they played brothers on a CW show, but most of all they shouldn’t do this because then Jensen wouldn’t ever know how to stop.

Jared’s eyes were still on him and Jensen could feel nervousness sliding down his skin like rain dripping into his collar. He looked down at his shaking hands and then stepped deliberately between Jared’s thighs. Jared smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and pulled him down. His neck was bent at a completely irrational angle, curled over him as he was. But then Jared’s tongue pushed past his lips, running along sensitive inner flesh, and he forgot all about the discomfort. He drove his fingers into Jared’s soft hair, harshened the sweetness between them a little bit, and was gratified by Jared's choked-off noise of assent. Jared’s fingertips ran circles over the skin of his back, just the lightest pressure from his thumbs. He was shivering and hard in seconds.

Everything was easy and measured, from the tangling of Jared’s tongue with his, to the breaths they let out when they surfaced up for air. It was a slow simmer between them, not an insistent-all-consuming burn. Jensen sucked on Jared’s lower lip, tugging on it with his teeth. He had expected Jared to taste like the candy he constantly devoured in, but, instead, he tasted like water and toothpaste.

Jared’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he changed the angle of their mouths. It nearly made him pause, stop and rethink this whole thing. This wanted to be the sex people had when they fell in love with each other, not furtive cheating in a men's locker room.

Jared’s hand ran against the line of the towel where it met his hips, dipping only slightly below the lip of the fabic. Jensen tensed. He tried not to think of how he could feel Jared's pulse beating under his skin when Jensen dragged his hand down Jared's chest. Tried not to think of how unselfconscious he felt. Jensen was never unselfconscious. Tried to not think past the two of them kissing this way, the way Mike had said that adults never did anymore.

They heard a locker slam and it grounded them firmly in reality. Jensen stumbled away so fast he had to keep a hand on his towel.

He leaned back against the cool metal lockers, a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin everywhere Jared had put his hands. “We can’t...?” he said, as if he was asking why they couldn’t rather than stating it. He hoped that Jared wouldn’t attempt to answer.

“I know.” Jared looked away, hair obscuring his eyes. Jensen found himself irrationally disappointed that he didn’t even try to argue with him. Instead Jared just got to his feet and finally did up his jeans. His shirt went on next, back-turned, and Jensen felt really damn stupid just standing there in a towel, watching him dress.

Jared sighed, gathering his gym stuff. “Yeah, I know,” he repeated, but he wasn’t speaking to Jensen.


Jensen and Jared didn’t change outwardly in their behavior towards one another after the thing in the locker room. Jared didn’t seem the least fazed about it. He and Sandy were going on weekend getaways. It was like this one-off that Jensen had probably imagined. It shouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. They were both doing the smart thing.

One night at Tom’s house, they all sat around the kitchen doing shots. Mike was giggling underneath the table, tugging on Tom’s pant leg and muttering the periodic table, because Jared had bet him that he didn't know all of it. Jensen wondered why he hung out with these people. He could be reading a book or doing something constructive with his time.

Tom lazed back against the counter, rolled his eyes at Jensen like he knew exactly what he was thinking. He swirled a half-empty bottle of Jack in one hand. Jensen leaned his chin on his fist and looked at Jared who was speaking about Sadie and Harley even though nobody was listening.

“Chromium. Manganese. Iron. Ahah!” A sudden shout from under the table startled all of them. “I have it!”

Tom raised his brows at Mike's knee (all he could actually see from underneath the table). “You give in?”

“No!” Mike attempted to get up and hit his head on the underside of the table. “Arg, fuck!”

Jensen snorted as Mike crawled out, rubbing his forehead. “I have a brilliant idea!”

He looked over at Jared, who pointedly dropped his eyes to the table. Mike Rosenbaum and Brilliant did not go in the same sentence. Mike Rosenbaum and being bailed out of jail for felony charges, on the other hand, now that was a combination.

“Let’s do body shots!”

Tom looked at him blankly for a few moments and then threw a wadded-up napkin at him. “Bitch, you are going to bed!”

Mike stumbled over his feet, trying to get up. He shot Jensen and Jared an impenetrable look, before amazingly acquiescing to Tom’s pronouncement. He walked off out of the room, and Tom followed, looking back over his shoulder at them and shaking his head.

“So man, you gonna take me home?” Jared said, breaking the silence.

“Boy, you think I want to wreck my car?” Jensen asked, rolling his empty shot glass around on the table.

Jared snorted. “You had one shot, two hours ago. You a lightweight now?”

“Maybe I don't want to drag your ass home.”


Jensen got to his feet and twirled his keys around his fingers. "On second thought, now would be a brilliant time to go."

Jared smiled and finished off his beer.

The car ride was silent beyond the radio, but when he pulled up in front of Jared's house, Jared nodded at his front door and Jensen shrugged and followed him inside. They had several more beers and a sporadic shot of shitty vodka Jared had left over from a party, practically drizzling it all over the floor in their drunkenness. Jensen’s frame of consciousness was rapidly deteriorating. He probably should have realized that getting drunk alone with Jared in Jared’s house was a really bad idea.

Jensen ended up straddling Jared’s thighs on the sofa working for a reenactment of what happened at the gym. He didn't remember moving from the kitchen. He didn't remember taking his shirt off. He didn't remember tangling his fist in Jared's hair. Jared hissed as Jensen cupped his dick and rolled them off the couch. They landed with a heavy thump that Jensen would feel tomorrow morning, but couldn't feel now. Jared bit at Jensen’s lip and then his neck, moving further downward to suck a mark over his collarbone. Jensen felt himself coming apart in Jared’s arms, and he was afraid that he would never be able to put himself back together again.

It was his last moment of lucidity the entire night. He was so out of it Jared easily manhandled his jeans off and laid him out on the floor, firmly holding Jensen’s hips down while he tongued Jensen’s cock. It didn’t take long. Soon Jensen was moaning hoarsely for Jared to fuck him, to take him anyway possible, to just let him come. If he'd been sober his masculinity would've weeped at what was coming out of his mouth.

And it just might've been the best sex Jensen had ever had. Hot and furious and coming like a gut punch. He didn’t want it to end; he wanted to stay wrapped up in and around Jared forever on the cold pine floor.

When he woke the next morning, he was tangled around Jared in his California king. He groaned when he saw how many condom wrappers were lying around the room. His head fell back on his shoulders and he thought about smothering himself with his pillow. God, how stupid was he?

He didn’t remember much. It was just one long orgasmic blur, and he thought he might have said ‘I love you’ at some point while Jared worked him open. He hoped to God that Jared wouldn't remember. He rolled out of bed with a grunt, pausing when his stomach dropped out. He was queasy and weak and his brain felt to large for his skull.

Jared let out a soft sound and rolled into the warm spot Jensen had vacated, shoving his nose into the pillow. Jensen couldn’t seem to stop himself from reaching out and tracing a delicate hand over the cap of Jared’s shoulder. He pulled back, shutting his eyes at his maudlin behavior, and began searching out his clothes. He found his shoes in the hallway, his shirt in the kitchen, his pants lying across a lamp in the den, and he couldn’t find his boxers at all.

He didn’t want to leave Jared like this. It wasn’t his style to just go without saying goodbye, especially with someone who meant so much. But he also didn't want to make this into more than this had to be.


Jensen thought it would be the end of their friendship. It wasn’t. They continued having sex. Excellent sex. Jensen was scarily starting to feel like it was enough to survive on along with coffee and Monday night football. Every time they told each other they wouldn’t do it again there they were two hours later. Jared didn’t talk of leaving Sandy, and Jensen didn’t ask. If he asked it was going to say something he didn't want to say.

He started losing sleep over it; he probably looked as worn and ragged as a junky. When he looked in the mirror, he was a little surprised that nobody had asked him about it yet. Only Mike had seemed to notice that anything was different between him and Jared, but he hadn’t said anything, just given Jensen more of those weird impenetrable looks.

Jensen finally admitted to himself every time Sandy came up--going to the movies, out for brunch, to the museum, meeting Jared's parents--it tore his heart in two. But he wanted Jared so much he wouldn't dare give him an ultimatum. The monstrous thought that Jared didn’t need him as much plagued him daily. How did he deal with that?

He didn't. He got messily drunk whenever he wasn’t around Jared, swearing to himself that he would stop, but Jared was like heroin. There was no stopping. Not, at least, without extreme pain and a methadone clinic.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. They were just supposed to be friends. He didn't think he had it in him to be so fucked up over a person. Now he couldn’t even be around him without aching to touch him, reaffirm his presence. He’d never let shit like this get to him before. If it hurt, he stopped. Now Jared had come running completely unplanned into his life and thrown everything up in the air. Jensen just wanted everything to stop, to be numb, a stone, anything but this mass of insecurities. He just wanted peace, but there was none. There was only Jared.


“Man, what the fuck is with you?” Chris asked, throwing an empty beer can at the trash can and missing with a fantastic clatter. Jensen, uncharacteristically, hadn’t touched a drop. He stared down at his hands and blew out a breath.

Chris had flown up the day previous to see him and they'd spent most of it moping around Jensen's house. “Why are we just hanging around the house like two freakin' teenage girls? Am I that fucking boring?”

Jensen sighed, leaning back in his chair. “No, man, I’m just exhausted.”

“Somebody wearing you out?" Chris said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Jensen looked at Chris. Jared was wearing him out, just not in the pleasant way that Chris was implying. Although, yes, that way too.

“Whatever, dude,” was all Jensen had to say, and then he went back to staring off into space.

“You know you look like shit,” Chris replied, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms and tried on his stern face.

Jensen threw another empty beer can at Chris and was suitably ameliorated when it bounced off of his head.


So he wasn't happy or anything, but he was fine. He was okay. And then everybody was talking about how Jared and Sandy might get married. Seriously everybody—from the make-up girls to the craft-services. Jensen sat there wondering how it was that he managed not to know this. Jared was his best friend, didn’t they share everything?

He tried to pretend that he was upset that Jared had failed to mention it, but he knew it was because Jared had tossed his heart on the ground and then jumped on it. There was no way he was going to be the other woman if Jared got married. No way, no how. Candace, who was doing his hair, made a noise of inchoate rage when dropped his head into his hand and completely ruined his make-up.

"What's wrong, honey?" She asked, hands falling to her sides when she saw the look on his face. Jensen didn't have an answer. He didn't have anything.

When Jared came by his trailer later to say hi after being gone for the weekend. Jensen was practicing with his knives on the dartboard. He’d have liked to pretend that his accuracy had gotten better, but that would be one big fucking lie, because he was still listing off to the lower left.

When Jared threw himself on one of the couches, Jensen was hard pressed to stop himself from chucking one of the knives at him. No doubt he’d miss though, and that would just be embarrassing.

“I missed you, man,” Jared told him, watching him with an easy smile

“Yeah, right, missed fucking my ass more like,” Jensen replied, his voice severe, the knife he just threw making a dull thunk as it hit the wall rather than cork.

Jared straightened in his seat. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t miss me at all, you fuckwad!” Jensen finally turned around, shaking with anger. “Man up and admit it!”

“Jensen, where is this coming from?” Jared asked, taken aback.

Jensen turned away from him, shoulders high with rage and indignation. “Were you going to fucking tell me you were getting married?”

“What? I—no!” Jared replied, clearly confused.

“No, you weren’t going to tell me?” Jensen threw another knife at the board, this time hitting the bulls eye. “What? You were just going to let me go on fucking you, never knowing, until when? The fucking day of?”

“I don’t—”

Jensen snorted in fake laughter, interrupting him. He didn't even bother to glance at Jared. “That’s right you don’t. You don’t anything! You just keep on like this is normal.” The knives all hit the center in a neat cluster. First time for everything.

“Because I don’t know what else to do!” Jared replied heatedly. “You’re so fucking implacable, Jensen. I have no clue what you want at all!”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s implacable? You, who just walks around all unaffected, is calling me fucking implacable?” He dropped the blades on the coffee table, turning back to Jared.

“Yes, that’s right.” Jared replied, getting to his feet. He was about to say something else, but Jensen cut him off before he got the chance.

“Well go fuck yourself and show yourself the door while you’re at it.” Jensen turned away from him again. The prickling in his eyes as Jared left was not the beginnings of tears.

The minute Jared was gone he collapsed on his couch, his head in his hands. He felt like he'd just made the biggest mistake in the universe, and that only made him hate himself all the more.


It had started raining somewhere throughout the course of the day, which was great. Not that Jensen would’ve felt much better if the weather had been all sunshine and rainbows; more likely he’d have been enraged by everybody else's apparent happiness. He sat in his living room, watching his yard get washed out, and felt like Armageddon. What else was there to do with himself?

He finally got exasperated and grabbed his coat, intending to hit some club, get totally plastered and maybe go home with a warm willing body. Fuck Jared.

He opened the door and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Jared walking up the path to his porch as the rain poured down. His shoulders were slumped in his best angsty Sam look.

“What are you doing here?” He bit out. Jared drew in a deep breath, face tautly unhappy. Suddenly all of the anger left Jensen, only blankness was left behind, wiped completely clean like his television screen when Jared's dogs accidentally sat on the remotes.

“Jared, just don’t—” he started, realizing he wouldn’t be able to take a long protracted battle without giving in.

“This is your entire fucking fault,” Jared interrupted, his voice nearly toneless.

Jensen was surprised into hysterical laughter “What? What! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I love you, asshole!” Jared finally responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.”

Jensen looked past his shoulders and pursed his lips. “That's very nice, Jared.”

Jared snorted and made a face, looking away from Jensen. “You know, I fucking knew you’d say it just like that.” He shook his head, glaring up at him. “Whatever man, if I’m going to throw my heart in the blender I might as well do it with relish. I’ve loved you since like day fucking one.”

“Stop,” Jensen whispered, feeling weak.

“And I’m not getting married, dude.” Jared added. “Sandy and I broke up.”


“I left her for you,” Jared said, voice soft, and the look of despair on his face was everything that Jensen had felt for months. “But I can't ever figure you out. You never asked..."

Jensen scrubbed at his face. “I—”

Jared sighed. “Forget it. Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jensen.”

"You are so stupid," Jensen snarled. He pulled Jared to him, fisting his hands in his rain coat, and kissed him. "Really fucking dumb," he said when he pulled away.

"What?" Jared replied, rubbing at his mouth.

"No, seriously, you're really lucky you're attractive," Jensen said with a laugh.

Jared narrowed his eyes at him. "You going to invite me in?"

"I don't know, I don't do stupid people."

"Ah well," Jared said and made a show of turning around.

"Maybe a pity fuck," Jensen said, catching Jared by the shoulder and drawing him in close again.

"I'll bet," Jared replied and kissed him again.


So I was just listening to the song “The Walk” by Imogen Heap and got the inspiration for this story. I have a natural tendency to write comedy rather than angst (I still slipped up a little bit) so I had to listen to it like five hundred times to keep me on track.

So if you want to hear it . . . Yousendit file. Otherwise the lyrics are below.

Inside-out, upside-down,
Twisting beside myself.
Stop that now,
'Cause you and I were never meant to meet.
I think you'd better leave.
It's not safe in here.
I feel a weakness coming on.

Alright then, (alright then.)
I could keep your number for a rainy day.
That's where this ends.
No mistakes no misbehaving.
I was doing so well.
Could we just be friends?
I feel a weakness coming on.

It's not meant to be like this.
Not what I planned at all.
I don't want to feel like this.
No it's not meant to be like this.
Not what I planned at all.
I don't want to feel like this.
So that makes it all your fault.

Inside-out, upside-down,
Twisting beside myself.
Stop that now.
You're as close as it gets
Without touching me.
Oh now don't make it harder
Than it already is.
I feel a weakness coming on.

It's not meant to be like this.
Not what I planned at all.
I don't want to feel like this.
No it's not meant to be like this.
Not what I planned at all.
I don't want to feel like this.
So that makes it all your fault.

Big trouble losing control.
Primary resistance at a critical low.
on the, on the double gotta get a hold.
Point of no return one second to go.

No response on any level,
Red-alert this vessel's under seige.
Total overload all systems down they've got control.
There's no way out.
We are surrounded.
Give in, give in and relish every minute of it.

Freeze or make it forever.
I feel a weakness coming on.

It’s not meant to be like this,
Not what I planned at all.
I don’t want to feel like this.
No it’s not meant to be like this,
It's just what I don't need.
Why make me feel like this?
It's definitely all your fault.

Feel like this la la la la la la la la
It’s all your fault (feel like this) la la la la la la la la
It’s all your fault (feel like this) la la la la la la la la
It’s all your fault (feel like this) la la la la la la la la
It’s all your fault.

Tags: j-squared, rps, slash
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