Archive of Our Own

Act I

Jensen was just pouring his morning coffee when the abrupt tinny strains of "Backstreet's Back" almost made him scald himself. Goddamn Danneel. She thought it was hilarious to reprogram his ring tones during rehearsal.

He wasn't sure who would need to get hold of him this early in the morning except for the Festival. And that probably meant it was not good news.

Jensen was a first-timer at the Texas Summer Shakespeare Festival and it was an honor to be directing his own production there. It was something he'd wanted for such a long time, it was sometimes difficult to believe that he was really there. He'd seen his dad perform at the Festival, and that was back before they even had a tent over the stage.

What Jensen had not been prepared for were navigating the politics of a long-established Festival like this one. He understood to some extent. Theater companies were like families, especially ones based in small towns, and including new members was never easy. Jensen hadn't had any conscious expectations, not exactly, but he'd sort of thought that his dad being an alumnus would have, well, meant something. Instead, although he'd been welcomed warmly enough, he was still very clearly the new kid on the block and the fact that he had no history here was hovering constantly in the background.

He set the mug down and picked up his phone. That was more than enough of boy bands for 7:38 on Tuesday morning.

He hoped the call wouldn't be another logistical nightmare. Based on Jensen's recent luck, they were probably calling to tell him they'd accidentally double-booked his rehearsal space and that his Much Ado rehearsal had been moved to the second-floor bathroom that was currently out of service. (Actually, come to think of it, Jensen had held rehearsals in a bathroom once. It had been for a community theater production of Tamburlaine. The guy playing Tamburlaine's day job was as an emergency plumber, and after he got called in for work three nights in a row Jensen had thrown his hands in the air and moved the whole rehearsal with him.)

"Backstreet Boys, really?" he said, amused. He could hear the buzz of conversation behind her.

He shouldn't be surprised that she was at work so early. She was the most dedicated stage manager he'd ever known.

"Classic for a reason. Hey, has anyone got in touch with you?"

Jensen mopped up the coffee spill on the desk with a napkin. The Festival was produced in part by the local college, and the visiting cast and crew had been put up in one of the dorms. Jensen and Danneel were both staying there, and Jensen had to admit that living right next to the Festival administration and so close to River Park, where the tent-covered stages would be set up, was convenient.

Of course, on the downside, it meant living in a college dorm room for two and half months.

He rolled his eyes lightly at Danneel's question. "No, you're the first one to call me on this lovely spring morning," he said. "Congratulations to you. Y'know, we should do this regularly. Is six too early for you for next time?"

She didn't make her usual noise of disapproval at his sarcasm, which was what really alerted Jensen to the fact that something serious was going on.

"It's Misha," she said.

Jensen numbly listened to her hurried explanation. Misha was in the hospital. He'd broken his leg in three places while attempting to perform a Riverdance routine on a park bench in the middle of the night, and had been released from surgery early that morning.

Danneel told him she'd take care of rehearsal, and Jensen acknowledged that gratefully before he bolted out the door, shoving his feet into his shoes and abandoning his coffee.

The hospital was only a fifteen minute drive away. He usually enjoyed driving through the small neighborhoods that made up the town, but this time he barely registered the scenery.

When Jensen found the right room, Misha grinned at him in welcome. The familiar sight went a little way to lifting the anxious weight in Jensen's stomach.

Misha informed Jensen that, all appearances to the contrary, he had been neither drunk nor stoned during the incident, and his wife was prepared to sign a statement to that effect as soon as she got back with breakfast. Jensen schooled his expression into a raised eyebrow of casual skepticism, and Misha continued earnestly, "It was a decision borne of clear-sightedness and purity of spirit! Though," he added. "I can't say I am currently in possession of all my faculties. These painkillers are killer." He flung his arms into the air and wiggling his fingers. "They kill pain!"

"You're not feeling any pain at all, then?" Jensen said. He glanced around. The three other patients in the room seemed to be still sleeping. He pulled a plastic chair up to Misha's bed and sat down. He was abruptly aware of how tired he was -- on top of which, he hadn't had his usual dose of caffeine yet that morning.

"I'm not even feeling my feet," Misha said lightly. He paused. "Do I still have feet?"

Jensen checked. Misha's right leg was encased in a cast from thigh to shin, but his foot was still very much present, poking out the end. He was wiggling his toes.

"Yes," Jensen said.

"Well, that's lucky."

Jensen looked at him closely. Misha's face was pale against the white sheets.

"The cast's gotta be on for at least three weeks," Misha said. He was looking at the ceiling, and there was a catch in his voice that belied the lightness of his tone. "And then there's recovery. I'm not going to be back on my feet for a few weeks."

"Shit," Jensen said. He reached out for Misha's forearm and gripped it reassuringly. "We'll figure this out. Opening night's not for three weeks. You could be onstage with crutches, right? Maybe -- maybe we can say Benedick was, uh, injured in the war and --"

"Jensen," Misha said. "I'd be missing more than half the rehearsals --"

"You already know the lines, that's half the work --"

"Plus I'd be a miserable bastard -- "

"We don't have to decide now," Jensen said shortly. He softened a little. "C'mon, you should be spending this time recovering, not arguing with me."

"You should be spending this time finding a new Benedick," Misha shot back. "It's the leading role."

Jensen pulled his lips into a tight line. The cast had only started rehearsals earlier that week. Theoretically, if they could find a new actor to step into Misha's role right away, they wouldn't lose too much time. But replacing one of the main characters in the play wasn't that easy. Misha wasn't only Jensen's friend, he was Jensen's first choice for the role of Benedick. He had great chemistry with the other members of the cast, especially Katie Cassidy who was playing Beatrice. And as Emma Thompson had once said, if the audience didn't leave the theater believing Beatrice and Benedick were about to jump into bed together, the actors weren't doing their jobs. Misha and Katie were going to be gorgeous together. Jensen was not about to abandon all the beautiful potential he was just starting to tease out of them for something as stupid as a broken leg.

It wasn't worth arguing with Misha about it, though. Danneel had texted him just as he'd arrived at the hospital to say that the Festival Board was meeting at eleven. They'd make the decision then. And if Jensen had anything to say about it, they'd find a way to keep Misha in the production.

He sat back and sighed. "Riverdance?" he said, and raised an eyebrow.

"It's a dream that will never die," Misha said with impressive dramatic flair for someone lying on a hospital bed and wearing a nighty. "You snob," he added affectionately.

Before Jensen left, he stole two extra jello cups for Misha (green ones only), found all the magazines he could with the Royal Wedding on the cover (arrayed enticingly on Misha's bedside table), and told three of the nurses that Misha was married but that he and his wife were open to experimentation.

The Festival offices were located in one of the college buildings right across from River Park. When Jensen arrived, the first person he saw was Julie, the Festival's office administrator. He gave her the update on Misha's condition.

"So he'll still be in the play?" Julie said, relieved.

Jensen made a face. "That's what the Board's here to decide," he said.

"They're in the Mackey Room," Julie said. "I just brought them muffins, so you've probably got a few minutes."

Jensen was surprised but grateful. "You're a lifesaver," he said, and went to find Danneel.

She was in their usual rehearsal room, shoulders bent over her overflowing production binder, working on blocking. "You've got Hero reciting lines to the back of Beatrice's head," she said reproachfully when he came in.

He nodded and dropped into the chair next to her.

"How's Misha?" she said, her voice gentling.

"He's great. He'll probably have written the next great American novel, composed a symphony, and negotiated peace in the Middle East by the time he's out of the hospital," Jensen said. "This might limit his mobility but not his -- Mishaness."

"Mishaness," Danneel repeated amused, but she looked relieved.

"He says we should find a new Benedick," Jensen said.

"Well, he's right," she said matter-of-factly.

"Danny --"

"And the Board's going to say the same thing."

Jensen stared up at the ceiling, his jaw tight. "I can't just recast a major role on the fly," he said. "Benedick and Beatrice are the soul of the play. I can't throw anyone in there and -- and just hope it works."

"I know," Danneel said. "Misha's irreplaceable. We all know that. It's not like that."

"If you say 'the show must go on,' I'm gonna kick your ass."

Danneel sniffed. "As if I would say anything so cliché at a moment like this."

Jensen stifled a snort. "No, of course not," he said. "You wouldn't dream of it."

He sat up and met her gaze. Danneel had been with him through a lot -- she'd stuck by him through his ill-conceived college production of Lysistrata and that had included a spectacularly chaotic fight scene with light sabers and giant phalluses. She had been the one to get him blind drunk after he read the negative review in the college paper, and she gave him a garbage can for the next morning.

He'd been friends with her for years, and there was no one whose opinion he valued more. But he was not ready to admit she was right when it came to altering his production in such a fundamental way. Not when they had the chance to fight for Misha.

From the way she looked at him, rueful and a little strained, he was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking.

"Well, c'mon, then," he said. "Julie's distracting them with food, but if we don't get up there they might start without us. And then God knows what the hell they'll do to our play."

When they got to the Mackey Room, the Board members were gathering around the table, and they looked ready to begin.

"Here he is!" Julie said. She lowered her voice as she passed them in the doorway. "I don't know what they're thinking," she said. "They ate all the chocolate chip muffins though, and that's not a good sign."

She gave them another worried look and slipped out the door.

"What do you think eating chocolate chip muffins is a sign of?" Danneel said in an undertone, looking amused.

Jensen shook his head but didn't reply. They took their seats.

The chairwoman looked up and cleared her throat. Jensen was slightly in awe of her. Under her guidance, the Festival had become more commercial -- the expansion of the gift shop, more crowd-pleasing comedies -- but Jensen also suspected that it was her changes that had given rise to opportunities for younger, less experienced (and therefore less expensive) directors like himself to participate in the Festival. He was grateful for that, of course. And it was undeniable that the Festival had grown more successful during her tenure.

She just had a tendency to look at him, though, in a way that made him think he was not living up to her expectations, and it was more than a little unnerving.

He looked around the room at the Board members. Most of them were lifelong lovers of Shakespeare and theater traditionalists. Arts funding being what it was, they were running a pretty tight ship -- they had to, really. Jensen could see from their worried expressions that they were already adding up what this accident was going to cost them.

Jensen sat up straighter. Hopefully that meant it would be easy to convince them to work something out with Misha.

"I spoke with Misha Collins this morning," the chairwoman said, after she had apprised the Board of the current situation. "He personally recommended that the Festival replace his role in the production."

Jensen's heart sped up. So they were diving right in, then. He cursed Misha and the stupid painkillers that had apparently addled his brain enough for him to voluntarily give up his job.

"Excuse me," he said firmly, "but I strongly disagree. For the good of the rest of the cast and the production as a whole, I believe working around Misha's injury is our best option."

"Is he still able to perform?" one of the Board members said worriedly.

Jensen affirmed this, but the chairwoman looked unconvinced. She went on to say that the possibility of delaying opening night was unthinkable. Jensen's heart sank.

Another Board member put in thoughtfully, "Perhaps we could alter the production to account for it. Change the setting to a hospital in World War I, perhaps. The set design could be minimalist."

Jensen had made a similar suggestion to Misha just that morning as a way to account for crutches in the narrative of the play. But hearing it drop so callously from the mouth of one of the Board members made his stomach clench. This production was important to him. Danneel teased him sometimes that it was his baby, and that wasn't as far from the truth as he'd like. His plans for it did not include making Leonato's palace into a First World War field hospital.

Jensen didn't have to worry too much about protecting the integrity of his set design, it seemed; the Board had already moved on to other solutions. Nobody was interested in the expense and time of holding open auditions, and no one seemed to have any suitable suggestions for a replacement. Jensen was starting to think that they'd come back around to convincing themselves that Misha was the best option, when Danneel cleared her throat.

"I might have a lead on somebody," Danneel said.

Jensen looked at her in surprise.

Sorry, she mouthed at him.

"This person hasn't been doing Shakespeare recently," she went on, "but he's got a background in theater. And the name recognition would be a great boost to ticket sales."

The Board members were looking increasingly interested.

"I believe," her eyes flicked towards Jensen and then away, so quickly that he suspected no one else caught it, "that Jared Padalecki might be available."

Jensen felt the air leave his lungs.

"Jensen and I went to university with him," Danneel continued, "and I've heard he's going to be in Texas for the summer."

"Who's Jared Padalecki?" someone said, and the name seemed to echo hollowly in Jensen's skull.

"He's on that TV show about the space hospital," one of the Board member said. "Last Frontier."

"Oh, yes!" said another, perking up in excitement. "I know that show! Which one is he? The hot alien doctor?"

"No, no," another one said. "He's the tall bisexual nurse who's always taking off his shirt."

Jensen sought out Danneel's eyes. He felt viciously satisfied when she winced. Good. She should feel guilty. Blindsiding him with Jared Padalecki of all goddamn people.

"That would certainly bring some media attention to the Festival," one Board member was saying, his eyes gleaming. Jensen gritted his teeth. Of course they couldn't wait to get their hands on a major network television star.

"And you both know Padalecki?" said the chairwoman, turning her sharp gaze to Danneel and Jensen.

Jensen tore his eyes from Danneel and steeled himself. Apparently he really was going to the mat solo this time.

There was no way on earth Jensen was putting himself in a position to get screwed over by Jared Padalecki again.

The chairwoman's personal assistant was hovering at her elbow, digging up who-knew-what on her iPhone. If the way the chairwoman's eyebrows were going up, she was in favor of what she was seeing. Damn it.

"I know him," Jensen admitted. "But I don't think he would be a good fit for this part. Jared's training in the theater was minimal at best -- and that was before he quit the program." Jensen paused to let this sink in. These were, for the most part, old school theater traditionalists; he was pretty certain that they would not approve of anyone dropping out of an acting program. There were some creased eyebrows, but most of the Board seemed unconcerned by this. Jensen tried again. "That was years ago and I doubt he's stepped foot on stage since. Not to mention," he added desperately, "for the past two years he's been, let's see -- shooting interstellar rayguns, making out with people in airlocks, and bandaging up little green men. Is that really the kind of actor we want for a leading role at this festival?"

"Don't be so narrow-minded," one Board member said disapprovingly. "Science fiction and theater aren't as disparate as you might think. William Shatner performed at the Stratford Festival in Canada, for instance, and Patrick Stewart started out in the Royal Shakespeare Company."

Jensen tried not to glower; it wouldn't be professional. "My point was that theater requires a certain amount of drive --"

"Well, I for one love the idea," the chairwoman declared suddenly.

Oh no, Jensen thought, his stomach dropping.

"Let's contact Padalecki's agent immediately and discuss terms," she went on. "If there's any chance of clearing his schedule to make this work, we need to move now."

"But the expense --" Jensen tried.

"We will of course have to account for that in the budget," she said. "However, I think it's apparent that having a television personality of this status involved in the production will provide the Festival with some much-needed media exposure."

"But --" Jensen started again.

"That will be all, I believe," the chairwoman said sharply. "My office will put together a contract for your review. Thank you for your input, everyone."

As Jensen watched in frustration, the Board members stood up in a rustle of excited chatter. Almost all of them had their phones out now. They were probably looking up those stupid shirtless pictures as he watched.

Jared wouldn't be available for a summer Shakespeare festival anyway, Jensen thought, hanging on to the hope like a spar in a storm. He was probably in the Bahamas shooting a SyFy original movie about gigantic sea cucumbers with lasers for eyes or whatever he did in his off-season. Whatever Danneel had heard about him being back in Texas was clearly wrong.

Danneel.

Jensen reluctantly swung his eyes in her direction. She was still sitting next to him, cool and calm even with the metaphorical blade in her hand. Jensen stood up wordlessly and walked straight for the door.

She was right behind him, of course.

"I knew you secretly watched his show!" she said lowly. She kept pace with his stride down the hallway, which made Jensen scowl even harder.

"I do not," he said.

"You totally do! You even knew about the airlock thing."

Jensen stopped walking. "That was in all the promos for weeks! Even if you didn't have a TV, you couldn't escape hearing about the -- Jesus Christ, shut up. I'm not talking to you."

He pushed open his office door. He needed some peace and quiet to think. If he could find a new Benedick before Jared responded to the Board's offer -- but it would have to be someone amazing. It would have to be a phenomenal casting coup to get them on board with the idea, and he had to do it within -- what? A few days. No, hours. If they got in touch with Jared's agent and he accepted right away, then --

Then Jensen had no time at all. Shit.

Who the hell did he know who'd A) be immediately available and B) want to play Benedick for half the summer with no warning?

Danneel ignored his half-hearted attempt to shut the door in her face and walked right in behind him, pushing the office door closed. He'd been provided an office for the duration of the Festival, but it was more closet-sized than anything. It had a decent view, but generally Jensen found it more useful to spread out his work on the props table in his rehearsal space. Besides, more often than not he and Danneel were working through something together and the office was not particularly comfortable for more than one person at a time.

Like now. Danneel wordlessly offered him the chair. Jensen felt petty enough to refuse to accept anything from her at the moment, so he glared at her instead. She sighed and sat down, and he leaned his ass against the wooden desk and crossed his arms.

"Jensen, I'm sorry," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "I know you feel like I betrayed you back there or blindsided you or -- "

"Oh no, seriously, don't worry about it," Jensen said, slathering his voice in as much sarcasm as he could manage. "I was absolutely prepared for it. Didn't catch me off-guard one bit."

From Danneel's look, he suspected the slathering was a bit thick, but he felt completely unrepentant.

"Look, I heard he's going to be here for the summer," Danneel said. "In Texas."

"From who?" Jensen demanded.

"Facebook," Danneel said, matter-of-factly.

Jensen gaped at her. "You're friends with Jared on Facebook?"

"Not exactly. But c'mon, we went to college together, of course we have some friends in common. And y'know, it's Facebook. Things get around."

"Jesus Christ," Jensen muttered.

"And it seems like he doesn't have a project lined up for the summer, so --"

"So you thought, 'Oh, let's bend over backwards for Jared Padalecki and let him fuck us over just like --'"

"Oh my God, you're so melodramatic," Danneel said.

"This is not 'some guy we knew in college,'" he said hotly. "This is Jared. You know how I --"

He stopped. There were far too many emotions swirling around in his gut and he didn't even know how to begin identifying them. This always seemed to happen when someone mentioned Jared. It was like Jensen's emotions were all wired wrong when it came to Jared Padalecki.

Stupid emotions.

"I think you need to let some of this go," Danneel said gently. "It's been years, and you can't let even a passing mention of him go by without curling your lip."

Jensen had to think very consciously about smoothing out the muscles of his face.

"Seeing him again might help you work through some things. Come out of it a better person."

"A better person," Jensen repeated dryly. "Well, thanks for that." Danneel raised her eyebrow. "Anyway, there's nothing to let go," he added. "It's done. Dusted. It was forever ago."

She didn't say anything but her silence was very pointed. Jensen glared at her.

"This is your way of making me deal with my issues? Why couldn't you suggest -- I don't know -- me calling him and talking it out or something?" Jensen was certain he would have balked at that as well, but it sure sounded a hell of a lot better than Jared coming to the Festival for the summer.

Not just coming to the Festival, Jensen reminded himself. Jared would be coming and invading Jensen's whole life.

He stared at Danneel helplessly. "After he abandoned --"

"Look, aside from all of your epic hang-ups, he's really fucking good," Danneel said.

That stung.

"Oh sure," Jensen said sharply. "Sure, he's damn good at saying ridiculous lines like 'Baby, your orange tentacles would look sexy on my navy blue sheets.'"

Jensen clenched his fists -- that had been a particularly ridiculous episode, even without the tentacles (they had been small tentacles, but still). Jared's character, Ray Stryke, had been temporarily transferred to the orange-tentacled aliens' ship to help contain an epidemic and had ended up uncovering an intergalactic smuggling ring. Then he'd proceeded to expose the criminals, return the stolen items, and have very athletic sex with one of the good tentacle-aliens.

That was actually a fairly standard episode arc for Ray Stryke, come to think of it.

"C'mon, Danny, for fuck's sake. This is Shakespeare, not -- not --"

"I know you don't like to remember," she said, which was not exactly true. "But Jared has great stage presence." Jensen let out a snort of derision. Danneel ignored him. "He connects with people. That's why he's doing so well on that show, even when his dialogue is full of medical nonsense peppered with sci-fi technobabble. People connect with him. They love him."

"That was years ago --"

"Once upon a time, you were one of the people who thought he was gonna do great things."

Jensen ignored that with as much dignity as he could muster, before leaning down to pull out a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer. He settled himself more comfortably on top of his desk and poured some into an empty coffee mug. He contemplated not offering any to Danneel just on principle. In the end, though, he held some out to her. She rolled her eyes, shrugged, and dug into her bag to pull out her thermos. She unscrewed the top and Jensen poured her a cupful.

"The Board loves the idea," he said, after a moment.

"Yeah," Danneel said softly.

"But he might not do it," Jensen said quickly.

Danneel looked at him. "That's true," she said. "He might not."

Jensen took a gulp of whiskey. It burned down his throat.

Jared might not do it. It didn't exactly fit with his current career trajectory. It was short notice and he was probably in the Bahamas, after all.

But the fact was, it was a good part. The Festival was prestigious. And Jensen happened to know that Jared loved Much Ado.

"Shit," he said. "Shit shit shit."

Act II

It took Jared an hour sorting through his storage locker to find his battered old copy of Much Ado About Nothing. It was buried at the bottom of a box filled with first year textbooks, cds, an old college sweatshirt, and a purple plastic cup with "Most Likely to Pass Out During Beer Pong, Freshie Drama Class Awards 2000" written in black sharpie.

To be fair, Jared had only passed out once during beer pong. But apparently it had been memorable. Not for him, though, for obvious reasons.

He'd picked up this copy of Much Ado at a used bookstore for one of the first classes he'd taken at college. He flipped through the thin book, catching glimpses of his eighteen-year-old self's scribbling in the margins. The worn and yellowing pages beneath his fingers felt soft. He paused at one page. He'd underlined a line spoken by Benedick: "I stood like a man at a mark, with the whole army shooting at me. She speaks poinards and every word stabs." Next to it, he'd written in blue pen: "Beatrice + Benedick = love + war."

He felt a flutter of nervous energy in his gut as he got to his feet and went back up to his apartment.

"It would've taken you less time to get a copy delivered from Amazon," Chad grumbled, when Jared came out on the deck. He was sprawled on the lounge chair in the sun and was starting to turn an alarming shade of pink. "I was about to send out a search party."

"Use sunscreen," Jared said and picked up the tube on the table and tossed it at Chad's head. Chad reached out with his palm and swiped it out of the air. He had pretty impressive reflexes, Jared thought.

"Suck my balls," Chad volleyed back.

"Your choice, dude. But you're turning into a lobster."

Chad grunted, but he did move into the shade of the umbrella. "You found your stupid thingy?" he said.

Jared nodded absently. His agent was going to email him a copy of the script they were using for this particular production, but Jared had known in his gut that when he read the play again, he wanted to read this copy.

Just over an hour ago, he hadn't been planning on doing anything with his summer beyond chilling out, catching up with some friends, and visiting his parents in San Antonio. The third season of Lost Frontier didn't start filming until early July, which gave him lots of time to get some serious relaxation done.

His agent had tried to convince him to accept a summer project where he played Kate Hudson's happy-go-lucky gay BFF who, in a hilarious plot twist, ends up trying to steal her love interest. It was a major production that would have given Jared a lot of exposure in Hollywood. But the idea of it had made him so uncomfortable, even vaguely sick, that he'd turned it down.

Maybe that decision was going to come back and bite him in the ass, but he still couldn't manage to summon any regret about it. It had been his choice when his career had started to take off not to conceal his sexuality, and he'd done it against his then-agent's recommendations. But even though his new agent was supportive of him, it was a fact that most of the jobs she dug out for him were versions of Ray Stryke.

In the grand scheme of things, Jared knew he shouldn't complain. He had a steady job on an ensemble show with a cast and crew that were talented and got along well. And despite the fact that the reviews included a fair amount of condemnation ("a shallow, plot-less excuse for doctors to have anti-gravity sex"), their show had a vocal and supportive audience.

The weightless sex scene in the seventh episode had been -- well, popular would be putting it mildly.

The thing was, if Jared were getting typecast, a bisexual alien nurse on a primetime outer space medical drama was unfortunately not a stereotype that was going to serve him well long-term.

Doing theater, his agent had said over the phone, would be a way of proving himself as an actor. She thought it was a brilliant and unexpected opportunity. He could fly out to Austin now, rehearse for a scant three weeks, stay for the four-week run, and be back in LA just in time to start filming season three. It wouldn't give him much of a vacation, but he wasn’t going to get any summer job offers with better timing than this.

"They're offering you the role of -- " She paused and he could hear her tapping briefly on her laptop keys "-- Benedict. He's a soldier with a smart mouth who comes back from war and he has this great antagonistic relationship with his love interest --"

"Right, no, I know," Jared said, still slightly dumbfounded. "It's Benedick. I know the play."

"Dick?" Chad had said incredulously in the background. Jared had waved his hand at him to keep him quiet. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that the Texas Summer Shakespeare Festival was asking him to join their production.

"It's a great part, and it's a perfect opportunity," his agent had said, her tone persuasive. "We need to keep your name out there, Jared. I know you're looking for something different. Well, let me tell you -- sitting on your ass all summer is not going to bring the role of your dreams to your front door. We need to be proactive. Work for it. Create an environment that will produce the kinds of roles you want."

Jared knew that. Much Ado was a great play. Benedick was a great role.

But there was something else he needed to know, and Jared had felt it like a tickle at the back of his throat, a thump in his chest, a bright concentration of sparks low in his body.

"Who else is involved in this production?" he'd asked, and knew before she spoke what he was going to hear.

Now he sat down on the deck and looked at the familiar cover of the play in his hands.

"So they want you to prove you're not gay by jumping into a pair of tights and swishing around onstage?" Chad said, taking a swig of beer. "In Texas?"

"No one's trying to prove that I'm not gay," Jared said. "I am gay. And it's a nationally renowned festival. Karl Urban played Henry V there in 2006."

"Dude, I'm just sayin'. It seems backwards."

Jared rolled his eyes. "And have you ever seen a Shakespeare play? There's no 'swishing.' Sometimes there's swashbuckling, though."

Chad made a face. "It's a well known fact that Shakespeare's full of fairies and shit."

"Not this play," Jared said absently. "No fairies. This is Much Ado About Nothing. There's a lot of banter and wordplay. And disguises. And eavesdropping and misunderstandings."

Chad looked unimpressed. "Is there a fight scene? If you get to do stage fighting, I'll admit this Shakespeare thing is worth it."

"No, no physical fighting in this one," Jared said. "Though there's plenty of the verbal kind. It's a love story."

Chad snorted. Jared decided to ignore him.

Not too long after, Chad left for a party where, he assured Jared, there would be girls in bikinis and guys without their shirts. Jared declined the invitation to come along. He changed into shorts, T-shirt and ball cap, and took the dogs to the park for an hour. When he got home, he opened another beer, grilled some sausages, and flicked through on channels until he found the second half of The Maltese Falcon. The DVD was sitting on his shelf, but he sat down to watch while he ate, anyway.

The thing was, it Much Ado was a good play. It was a great part. Jared felt a flutter of nervousness in his belly at the thought of stepping on a stage again; there was something intensely different about being in front of a camera, about making your reactions minute and real and intimate, about knowing you had more than one chance. It had been hard for him to adjust to that at first, but now it was hard to imagine how he'd be able to adjust back. The stage seemed so -- vulnerable.

Besides, the last time he'd spoken any vaguely Shakespearian dialogue had been when his character on Last Frontier had murmured, "A rose on any other world would still smell as sweet, darlin'," before making out with his current love interest on the hydroponic deck of the hospital. Her name had been Rose, if he recalled correctly, which was just the kind of thing the writers creamed themselves over. It was a terrible misquotation, and Jared was kind of embarrassed to recall the scene at all. He had the vague hope that no one at the Festival had seen it.

They must have seen the show, though. Jared was a realist; they were eager to get him not only because he was available on extremely short notice, but also because he had a name and face that were recognizable. And, well, not to be overly modest, but he did have a certain sizable fanbase. It was not necessarily a fanbase made up of theatergoers, but Jared suspected that wouldn't stop a fair number of them from coming out to the Festival to see him perform live.

His stomach was full and the movie was almost over. If Jared wanted to impress the members of the audience who weren't already fans, he needed to get to work.

He put his plate in the dishwasher and settled back on the couch with his well-worn copy of the play. The dogs blinked at him as he moved around the kitchen. Sadie didn't move from her post-dinner sprawl on the other side of the room, but Harley came over and sat down with expectant interest at Jared's feet.

He read slowly through the opening scene. The messenger arrived at Messina to let everyone know that Benedick and his fellow soldiers would be arriving shortly, and Beatrice appeared on stage to win over the whole audience with her clever and cutting remarks.

When Benedick entered the scene, Jared tried a few of his lines aloud. Much of the play wasn't written in verse, especially Beatrice and Benedick's verbal sparring sessions, and it should have been easier not having to wrestle with the rhythm of iambic pentameter. But the prose with its Shakespearean sentence structure and unfamiliar words still twisted his mouth uncomfortably, feeling flat and lifeless. He took a deep breath, willing his racing heartbeat to slow, and tried again. The words stumbled past his lips, the cadence awkward and unfamiliar. The uncertain rush of consonants and inflections sounded stilted and wrong in his ears.

Jared let out a loud, frustrated breath. Harley looked up at him curiously.

He could still call his agent and change his mind, he thought. He hadn't signed the contract yet, though it was probably sitting in his email inbox right now (his agent was incredibly prompt about that kind of thing). He had a flight booked first thing the next morning and he'd already arranged for care for his dogs, but he could cancel those things. If he wanted.

He took another breath and tried a line aloud again, one spoken to Beatrice: "But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted, and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none."

Benedick was fooling himself, of course; by the end of the play, he and Beatrice had fallen head over heels for one another. It was a Shakespearean comedy, after all, and Shakespearean comedies always ended with a wedding.

But Jared could sympathize a little. Well, he was obviously not universally loved -- he was under no illusions about that. But he was familiar with the feeling of knowing that there was one person out there who actively disliked and distrusted you. When that was a person whose opinion had once meant all the world to you -- well, that hurt.

He took a breath and pulled himself together, trying to feel Benedick beneath all of the language. When he started to recite the lines again, he could almost grasp the inherent rhythm in them. He'd done Shakespeare once before, after all, when he was eighteen. When you found the rhythm, it was smooth and beautiful and as natural as breathing.

It was eluding him still, lingering just on the edges of his consciousness. When he reached the end of the play, he set the book down, and rested his hand on Harley's head. He wondered the hell he'd got himself into.

There was a car to meet him at the airport and drive the thirty minutes outside of Austin to Aldersen, where the Texas Summer Shakespeare Festival had been held for almost twenty years. Jared could barely stop his leg from shaking the whole way there, full of anxious, excited energy. He wished he'd rented a car himself -- at least then he'd have driving to focus his concentration. All he was had to do now was listen to his own thoughts running through increasingly disastrous scenarios.

Maybe they would put him on the first flight back to LA. Maybe they would tell him opening night was tomorrow, oops, haha, should've mentioned that on the phone, and he was going to have to go on even though he didn't know the lines yet.

Maybe Jensen would refuse to look him in the eye, or refuse to shake his hand, or refuse to work with him ever again.

Jared's hands clenched in his lap.

Okay, so some of those scenarios were overly dramatic. Opening night was scheduled for just three weeks away; he knew that because his parents had already bought tickets. And Jensen was the director of the production; Jared wouldn't be all the way out here with a signed contract if Jensen hadn't agreed to work with him.

Somehow all of that didn’t mean Jared felt better.

The driver swung by the place the Festival was putting him up, which turned out to be a small apartment that was pretty obviously student accommodation. It didn't matter to Jared, really, and he dropped his bags on the little couch, and followed the driver back out to the car.

The Festival headquarters were set up in a wing of the local college campus. From the information his agent had sent him about the Festival, Jared knew that the large white tents for the production were being raised in nearby River Park. There were two stages with two productions; Much Ado was in the smaller studio theater tent, while Macbeth was on the main stage.

Jared felt the heat the moment he stepped out of the air-conditioned car. It was going to be a hot day.

He caught sight of Danneel Harris near the door to the Festival offices, leaning against the wall in the morning sun and clearly waiting for him. She looked as tall and stunning as he remembered from years ago. Her hair was swept up casually and her fingers were busy on her iPhone. Jared hadn't known her well in university, but seeing her still made something catch in his throat and he swallowed nervously.

"Well, Jared Padalecki," she said, when she looked up and saw him approaching. "It's damn good to see you here." Her smile was open and genuine, and Jared felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease. From what he remembered of her, she was not someone to sugarcoat anything -- but also not prone to the cruel and unusual. If he were about to walk into a rehearsal room where everyone hated him (another disaster he'd come up with on the plane), he was pretty sure she wouldn't be so friendly towards him.

Of course, he was also well aware that she was one of Jensen's best friends.

He braced himself and let his best photogenic smile smooth over his face.

"Hi, Danneel," he said. "It's great to see you again, too. You're looking beautiful."

Her eyes crinkled into an expression of delight and amusement. "Well, you sure know what to say to a lady," she said. She pushed away from the wall, and tilted her head. "C'mon, then," she said. "The cast is really eager to meet you."

Jared didn't miss the significance of the phrase "the cast," and just who that excluded. The knots in his stomach tightened a little.

"Great!" he said out loud. "I'm excited to meet them, too."

Danneel led him through the doors and down the hallway. She dropped a glance behind her, a quick smile on her lips. "I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear you don't have to meet-and-greet with the Festival Board until this afternoon after rehearsal. They're wetting their pants over you, of course." She gave an odd little shake of her head.

Jared cast her a look. "Are they fans of the show or something?"

Danneel gave him an amused glance, with one quirked eyebrow. "More like fans of how many fans you have." Her glance took on a mischievous tilt. "Or more fans of how often you take your shirt off. For a guy in space, you sure have a nice tan."

Jared heard that one often enough, but with the way Danneel was grinning at him, it nevertheless shook a genuine laugh out of him. "It's the tanning beds on Level 6," he said.

"You joke," she shot back, "but I'm warning you, they're figuring out how to work a shirtless Benedick scene into the play at this very moment."

They reached the door of what was clearly the rehearsal room; Jared could hear the murmur of voices behind it. Danneel pushed open the door and gestured him inside first. The murmur died down as he walked in, Danneel on his heels, and an expectant silence fell. Jared felt the attention settle on him, and he straightened his shoulders under the weight of it and smiled.

Still, his eyes unerringly sought out one person.

It had been ten years and the sight of Jensen was achingly familiar. He looked -- well, older wasn't the right word although obviously he was older. Jensen seemed steadier, more in command. More grown into himself. He met Jared's gaze, and Jared felt his breath catch and his stomach drop.

Jensen was still drop-dead gorgeous, of course.

"Ah, at last, here's our big star," Jensen said. He didn't seem to be experiencing the same earth-shattering, shaky-legged feeling that had struck Jared. "So glad you could finally make it."

Not only did he appear unshaken by Jared's arrival, Jared could also hear the piercing note of challenge in his voice and see the almost undetectable smirk on his face. It cut right through all of Jared's defenses.

There had been a time when he had craved all of Jensen's attention. He'd loved the way Jensen used to turn his sharp mind and his sharp wit on everything and everyone, and then turn his head to let Jared in on the joke with a lift of his eyebrows. They'd been a pair, a team, and Jared had never felt as close with anybody -- not even a boyfriend -- before or since.

He felt anger start to coil low in his gut.

It was infuriating that Jensen could look at Jared the way he used to look at other people. Infuriating that he could stand there and stare Jared down with that cool expression in his eyes, with that barbed taunt to his words, as if Jared wasn't anyone special. As if Jared didn't mean anything.

Jared made himself pull in a slow breath. He lived in LA. He had years of practice being calm in the face of infuriating people, and he knew exactly how to fight this way.

"What a pleasure to see you again, Jensen," he said, letting pleasure roll off his tongue indolently. "I wondered where you'd vanished to."

That made Jensen's eyes flicker, sharp and hot, and Jared felt a flare of petty triumph in his belly. Jensen was not as unaffected as he appeared to be.

"We're honored you were able to come on such short notice," Jensen said after a moment, though his words were bitten off strangely.

He was keeping up a façade of professionalism, Jared realized. It felt strange and wrong to see Jensen so reserved and cool, especially when he so clearly wanted to bite back. It made Jared want to poke at him until he broke.

But.

Jared tore his gaze from Jensen and looked around the room at his fellow cast members.

This wasn't just about Jensen, no matter what kind of emotions he was stirring up in Jared. Jared was here for the play, and that meant putting aside his pathetic desire for Jensen Ackles' approval and respect -- or, if he couldn't get that, his anger.

Jared forced himself to ease back. He was a professional, too.

"Thanks. It's really great to be here," Jared said, letting his gaze move around the room and making eye contact with his fellow cast members. "I know the circumstances of my arrival here aren't ideal. God knows it's always difficult when you're stepping into someone else's shoes, especially someone as talented as Misha Collins." He'd never met Misha himself, but one of his friends had seen Misha in a performance in LA, and had only good things to say. "But I'd like y'all to know that I'm really pleased to be here and I look forward to working with every one of you."

There were some smiles and nods among the people there, but Jared could also see the reluctance and hesitancy in some of the facial expressions and body language. He was the outsider here; he knew that coming in.

And after his little play of bravado with the director (not a single member of the cast would have missed that, he was sure), he was really going to have to work to include himself.

"An Oscar speech in the making," Jensen said dryly. "Thank you, Jared, for those wise and inspirational words."

Jared barely had the chance to register the sting of sarcasm in that remark before Jensen was adding "Shall we sit down?" He encouraged everyone to sit at the table for some semi-formal introductions and a table read. Jared sat obediently in the seat Danneel waved him towards. He was acutely aware that this was a cast that had already had time to get comfortable with one another. Jared was pretty certain they'd moved past table readings by now. Which meant he was the one who was limiting them, and he needed to get his act together and catch up.

He shoved down the fissures of anxiety in his gut and took a deep breath. He could do this. He was going to do this or die trying.

Rehearsal broke early. The cast had been invited -- "Summoned, really," Jensen had said -- to the Board of Directors' impromptu wine-and-cheese. Jensen had left no doubt as to the reason for this celebration: Jared's presence.

"Though I know you lot would never turn down the chance for free alcohol," Jensen added dryly.

The cast members began gathering up their things and a low hum of conversation filled the room.

Jared already felt worn out. The lines were not coming naturally to him; they kept fumbling off his tongue in the face of so many expectant faces, and he was acutely aware with every line that expectations were sinking.

Jensen's face had remained mostly expressionless throughout the table read, and Jared finally had to force himself to stop looking in that direction so he didn't try to read too much into the stony silence.

As Jared was pushing his script into his messenger bag, he looked up to see Katie Cassidy, Beatrice to his Benedick. He thought they'd played off one another pretty well across the table during Act IV, but he knew she could feel his discomfort with the dialogue. He didn't think he'd made a particularly good first impression.

Katie introduced herself as if they hadn't spent the morning flirting heavily with one another. "So you're my Benedick," she added, with a sly grin.

"Guilty," Jared said. And then, because she'd grinned encouragingly at him across the table when he'd stumbled through his lines in Act V, he added, "I hope you're prepared to bring the banter, cause I am ready to be unleashed."

"Oh, a challenge from the newbie," Katie said, and her grin widened. "I'm gonna like you." Her eyes were bright with mischief and delight, and Jared smiled back. He needed all the optimism he could get at this point.

"A few of us are going to the bar after this meet-and-greet thing," she said, gesturing behind her to where some of the cast members were still chatting and getting their stuff together. "You should come." She paused and looked at him sharply. "Yeah, you should definitely come. In fact, let me put this another way: you're coming."

Jared was pretty sure he needed sleep rather than alcohol tonight, but he was not going to turn down a chance to bond with his new castmates.

"I'm coming," he repeated obediently.

"Yeah, you are," Katie said, and her grin that time was wicked.

They started for the door together, but Jared couldn't help glancing over to the table where Danneel and Jensen were bending their heads over some production notes. Jared stopped. The sooner they dealt with this, the better for everyone.

Probably.

Hopefully.

"I'll catch up," he said to Katie, and she nodded.

He approached Jensen carefully. He was acutely aware of the fact that every move he made was being tracked by everyone still in the room. Jensen looked up sharply as Jared neared, almost as if he could sense him coming.

"Of course, we all know the Board really just wants the chance to get an up-close-and-personal look at our star," Jensen said in a voice obviously meant for Jared to hear. The look he leveled at Jared was indecipherable.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint them," Jared said lightly.

"Right," Jensen said. "You do have experience with that." There was a pause that Jared felt down to his bones. "Dealing with the public, I mean," Jensen added.

Jared's heart sped up a little in his chest. "While successfully pursuing my career? Why yes, I have."

"I'm sorry to see you couldn't bring your spotlight with you," Jensen shot back. "Hope our dim little stage in a tent will be enough for a big celebrity like you."

"Oh, I'm sure your spotlight is bright enough for both of us," Jared said immediately. "Besides, I wouldn't want to make anyone too jealous."

Jensen's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. There were uncertain rustles and hushed titters around them. Jared's lips curled into a grin, and he hoped it wasn't obvious how hard his heart was pounding, how fast his pulse was racing. His skin felt pulled tight and hot, and he was suddenly full of the desire to push and push and push until Jensen cracked.

"I can't imagine who would be jealous of your particular spotlight," Jensen said, and his voice was smooth and steely. "But then, to each his own. Some of us enjoy Shakespeare, some of us enjoy wasting our talent on soap opera clichés."

Jared's breath caught at that. So Jensen hadn't changed one bit. Good to know. "I forgot you believe in things being black and white," he said. "Let me tell you -- they're not. It's possible to believe there's value in Shakespeare and soap operas if you bother looking beyond your own ego."

"Oh, believe me, I tried looking," Jensen said coolly.

Jared stared at him for a moment. It seemed to stretch out in length, awful and achey, just the two of them in the midst of a circle of people who were holding their breaths and waiting for the explosion.

"What d'you mean by that?" he demanded.

"Are you hard of hearing?" Jensen shot back, his eyes glittering.

"Just because y --"

"Whoa," Danneel said. When Jared swung his furious gaze on her, her eyes were wide and she stepped towards them, her hands outstretched in a placating gesture. "Okay, guys, let's just calm down."

Jared shifted his gaze away from Jensen, and it was like shutting off an electrical current. He gave a casual shrug to conceal how abruptly sick he felt, and stepped back.

"Don't worry, Jensen, I won't let any of my hot alien doctor friends interfere with your vision of the Bard's work," he said tartly. "I'm sure we wouldn't understand it anyway."

Jensen opened his mouth on a sneer, but Danneel laid her hand on his arm and he stopped. His jaw worked for a minute before he said, so quiet Jared was pretty sure he and Danneel were the only ones to hear, "Yeah, well, don’t think too hard, Hollywood."

The rest of the cast was silent now, too. Jared could feel his pulse jumping in his throat, and he picked up his jacket, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

So Jensen was still a pretentious asshole. Good to know. At least Jared hadn't been missing anything all these years.

No one said a word as he left the room.

Jensen lasted barely half an hour at the wine-and-cheese before he made a break for it and locked himself in his office.

It had been a long day.

Jensen hadn't been able to keep his eyes from shifting over to Jared throughout the meet-and-greet, and he was grateful that at least Jared didn't seem to notice. Or if he did notice, he didn't bother to acknowledge it. Jared hadn't made eye contact with him since their -- well, Danneel had called it a spat, but Jensen preferred to think of it as a prolonged difference of opinion.

In any case, the Board members and Festival benefactors who had been invited to the impromptu event were thrilled to take up as much of Jared's attention as they could get.

This was the part of the theater business that Jensen was no good at -- the schmoozing. It was partially why the non-profit theater he and Danneel were trying to run in Austin (experimental shows mixed with fresh takes on the classics) was struggling to stay afloat. He just didn't have a way with people that convinced them to give him money.

When Danneel had applied for the stage manager's position at the Festival, she'd flat-out told him they were going to close up for the summer so she could do it. She didn't tell Jensen in so many words that he should come too, but the idea of it had kind of latched onto his brain. He'd wanted to do something at the Texas Summer Shakespeare Festival for so many years that it seemed stupid that he'd never applied before.

So Jensen had put together his best resume and asked his father to put in a word for him at the Festival.

His dad had been delighted, of course. Even with the support from his dad, who was an alumni of the Festival, Jensen hadn't quite been able to believe he'd actually get the chance to direct -- he was young and he didn't have the prestigious kind of resume the Festival usually looked for.

So Jensen was grateful and gratified -- and a little surprised -- to be here at all.

Still, there had been more and more hints and suggestions that they thought him young, untried, naïve, and thoughtless. That cut deeply. The Board had approval, of course, over his decisions: concept, design, casting. That was one thing. But they were also continually offering suggestions that didn't feel gentle enough to be suggestions at all. People he'd admired for years in the theater community were looking at him askance and judging him for decisions that he didn't even feel he had the authority to make under his own power. Jensen had always considered himself to be pretty damn good at sticking up for himself and his artistic vision -- that ill-fated production of Lysistrata was proof enough of that. He was stubborn and he was opinionated and he was damn well not embarrassed to let the Board know it, even if it meant he was never invited back to the Festival again.

But now they'd brought Jared in explicitly against Jensen's wishes, and Jensen was beginning to feel like he'd lost control of everything.

So yeah. There they all were, drinking wine and chit-chatting and fawning over their great casting coup, and Jensen did not feel up to smiling at any of them.

If this was the part of the business that Jensen regularly seemed to bomb, it was clear that Jared was really, really good at it. He was effortlessly charming, and his smile always had that gleam of utter sincerity. He held eye contact, he shook hands, he showed his dimples, he laughed at jokes. There were eyes on him at all times, watchful and assessing, and yet he seemed as serene and comfortable as if he were among friends he'd known his whole life.

Jensen had stood in a corner and let his eyes follow Jared's figure around the room. Everyone else's eyes were on Jared, he told himself in a futile attempt to get over the embarrassment of it. He let himself take a long look -- the look he'd forbidden himself from indulging when Jared had first walked confidently into the rehearsal room.

He hadn't seen Jared in person since the spring ten years ago when Jensen had graduated college and Jared had dropped out. He'd seen Jared on TV, of course. And in the movie theater once when Jared had a two-minute scene with Megan Fox in that horrible action flick about the giant robot arm that was trying to assassinate the President. But Jensen had somehow thought that it must be all -- all make-up or lighting or something. God knew Jensen had attended enough tech rehearsals over the years to know how good lighting could change things. Jared had been an attractive kid; Jensen couldn't deny that. But it was hard to believe that Jared in person would be as stupidly, breathtakingly gorgeous as he looked on TV. It just wasn't possible.

He was taller than Jensen remembered, which was something of a knock to Jensen's pride -- although it made something else flare low in his gut, and he was absolutely not going down that road in public. His hair was still long, but it looked silkier and smoother, and his eyes were that same unnameable color that made Jensen's legs a little weak. Jared was bulkier, too, and the way his well-defined biceps and the muscles in his arms pulled at the fabric of his shirt made Jensen's mouth go dry. And his ass -- Jesus. If Jensen had a lick of talent for poetic composition, he would write sonnets in praise of that ass.

Jensen slid down in the chair in his office and stared out the window. At the table read, Jared had read his lines from the script, and it had been passable but far from brilliant. Not as bad as a high school kid stumbling through the lines in class or anything. But there was no real emotion and passion. Mark Sheppard and Samantha Ferris had looked at Jensen with I told you written all over their faces. And Jensen had no idea what Jared would be like on stage. Maybe he would be awkward and stiff. Or, considering that he was used to performing for the camera, too subtle for the live audience to read.

He was very much aware that he was going to need to rethink some of the things he'd planned for the play. Jared Padalecki's Benedick was not Misha Collins' Benedick. Jensen still needed to wrap his head around who exactly Jared's Benedick was.

It was going to involve some serious reworking, he realized, and the idea felt all at once both daunting and exciting.

When Danneel texted him an hour later, Jensen had three full pages of notes and sketches and far too many thoughts in his head. Joining her for a drink at the bar seemed like the best way to clear his mind for a bit.

It didn't seem like such a good idea when Jensen arrived and realized that a good two-thirds of his cast were currently gathered around a table in the back with Jared at the center. It was the younger actors for the most part rather than the established members of the company: Katie Cassidy, Aldis Hodge, Sandy McCoy. They were all very promising young talents, and Jensen was proud to have cast each of them. But seeing the way they leaned in to Jared like he was a magnet, drawn to the idea of success and glamour in Hollywood with barely a second thought, made Jensen's whole body tense up in frustration and outrage.

"You're being an ass," Danneel said conversationally when Jensen grunted at her for the third time in a row.

"It's my specialty," he said shortly. His eyes flitted back over his shoulder to where everyone was laughing at something Jared had said.

Danneel rolled her eyes. "How to win friends and influence people, by Jensen Ackles."

"Hey, I'm not the one who doesn’t have the guts to talk to introduce myself to Genevieve the reporter," Jensen said sharply.

Danneel looked surprised for a moment, then awkward. "Well, it's not like any of us has any time for romance, is it?" When he didn't say anything, she added, "Look, you're thinking of this as something that needs to be overcome. Maybe you should start thinking of it as an opportunity to make the show better."

Jensen frowned down at the bar. He thought of the papers in his office, and the way ideas had started tumbling over themselves to get out of his head as soon as he'd put pen to paper. She was probably right, damn her.

"I'm thinking about it," was all he said.

She just nodded and pushed away from the bar. The movement was so natural that Jensen didn't even notice Jared swinging up on the barstool on his other side until it was too late to do anything about it. Without waiting for a sign of greeting, Jared tilted his head in the direction of the bartender and hooked his long legs under the lower bars of the stool. His shirt was different from the one he'd been wearing in rehearsal, and it looked like it was designer or something. Definitely expensive and fashionable, and Jensen abruptly wondered how Jared thought he could wear it to a casual bar in a small town and not look like an arrogant asshole.

He flicked his eyes away and stared resolutely into his drink.

"Hi," Jared said, when he had a fresh beer in his hands.

"Nice shirt," Jensen said tightly.

Jared glanced down at himself. Jensen couldn't quite tell under the dim, blue-tinted light of the bar whether Jared flushed or not, but when he made eye contact again his eyes were bright and his lips were curved into that superior smirk that made Jensen's fists itch.

"Sorry I can't return the compliment," Jared said, flicking his eyes down at Jensen's clothes.

Jensen was wearing the clothes he typically wore during rehearsal, which were dark-colored and practical. Jensen was willing to lay heavy odds they didn't flatter him the way Jared's clothes flattered him. They probably looked the worse for wear by now, too.

"Glad to hear you're still an asshole," Jensen said.

Jared's eyes flashed and the corner of his mouth seemed to tighten. "Right. I'm the asshole."

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Jensen felt his body coil up in anger. He spat out, "I'd say you were something of an expert."

Jared stared at him, and then looked down at his beer bottle for a moment, silent. "Look, I didn't come over here to argue with you," he said. His fingers were plucking at the label on his bottle and he didn't meet Jensen's eyes. "I just wanted -- Look, d'you think we could go somewhere and talk?"

Jensen felt his stomach hitch and he eyed Jared warily. "About what?"

"You know about what."

Jensen shrugged, a casual lift of his shoulders to disguise the tension of his body. "There's nothing to say."

Jared let out a short laugh. It sounded strange from Jared's mouth, forced and artificial, and it made Jensen wince. "Yeah, right," Jared said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Jensen. We can barely carry on a civil conversation. If we’re going to work together --”

“Okay,” Jensen interrupted. He caught a glimpse of the rest of his cast in the mirror above the bar, and they were a sharp reminder that he was responsible for something other than himself. It was the play that was the important thing now, the play that he'd already felt changing in his head: Benedick was taller, with a wider smile, a different gait, a deeper cadence to his voice.

Whatever else had happened between him and Jared was long ago. He couldn't keep going as though history were about to repeat itself.

"You're right," Jensen said.

“What?”


“You’re right. We should talk about it." He turned to face Jared and coolly met his eyes. "Here goes: I'm willing to forget the past. We can put it behind us. I don’t have a problem working with you, as long as you respect my decisions and choices as a director.”

Jared stared at him for a moment, almost as if he were trying to decide whether to accept the olive branch or be offended by the brusqueness of Jensen’s tone. Jensen had meant it sincerely but he was starkly aware that it had come out of his mouth a little -- sharper than he'd intended.

He felt sweat prickle along his hairline.

“I don’t have a problem working with you, either, if you respect my choices as an actor,” Jared said finally.

“Great.”

“Great.”

Jensen waited for a minute. “Was that all?”

Jared huffed out a breath. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

He stood up and slid off the stool. Jensen didn’t say anything else as Jared wound his way back to his table. Everyone's face was unashamedly turned in their direction. Katie's eyebrows were almost to her hairline.

"So that was progress," Danneel said, leaning her hip against the bar on Jensen's other side.

"Shut up," Jensen said. He felt worn out. He drained his beer, and added, "I'm going home."

"Suit yourself, cowboy," she said.

Jensen stumbled back to his small dorm room, feeling more tired than drunk, and fell onto the bed still dressed. The room was dark and hot, and he felt like he was wound tighter than a coil.

He thought about the look he thought he'd seen in Jared's eyes when he came into the rehearsal room that morning: cautious and hopeful. It had been quickly smoothed over, lost behind that charming public face that Jensen had seen plastered all over magazines and on TV. He hated that face. But now he knew that charming hopefulness was still there, hidden behind it, and that -- that was the boy Jensen hadn't dared to remember. The one who was young and eager and talented, and who looked at Jensen like he had everything in the world to offer.

Even back then, Jensen hadn't known what to do with someone who had that kind of faith.

He let his hand fall onto his stomach, his fingers spread, his littlest finger touching the skin of his belly where his shirt had ridden up. His dick was half-hard in his jeans, somehow defying both the beer in his system and the stress and exhaustion he’d been feeling for days.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He pushed his jeans off his hips and snagged lube from the drawer in the bedside table. Reaching into his boxers, he wrapped his fingers around the length of his cock and palmed himself slowly, keeping the strokes measured and steady and slick. As if in counterpoint, he let his mind run crazy. Thought of the way Jared's jeans had pulled tight over his thighs when he hooked his legs on the barstool. How his shoulders had filled out that stupid shirt. How huge his hands looked on the wood of the bar. How his lips had opened around the neck of his beer. God, he had a gorgeous mouth -- wide and pink and soft, glistening wet. Those deep dimples on either side.

That mouth wasn't nearly as soft as it looked. Jared's wit was sharp and cutting, skewering Jensen seemingly as easy as breathing. Every retort from Jared's tongue seemed to strike Jensen's whole body, thrilling along his spine, curling in his gut, coiling in his dick.

He let his hand speed up as he imagined Jared fitting those lips around the tip of Jensen’s cock. Jared could probably do wicked things with his tongue, Jensen thought with deep satisfaction as heat fissured up his spine. That mouth of his would be wet and slick and hot, and he’d open up and let Jensen fuck into him, fast, raw, dirty. Jensen gripped his cock tighter and twisted his hand faster, his brain caught on how hot and perfect it would be to pump into Jared’s open, moaning mouth.

He came in a hot sticky rush on his belly, gasping Jared’s name.

God, he was so fucked.

Jensen was a little surprised to find that things settled somewhat after that. His cast was still very tentative with one another, but Jared seemed part of the way to winning them over already. He certainly had Katie on his side, and Jensen was relieved to discover that they had a good rapport with one another. He thought they were actually going to work well on stage together, and thinking through all the staging possibilities kept him awake at night.

Jared worked pretty well with Jensen in rehearsal, too. Jensen hadn't managed to fully restrain himself from baiting Jared now and then -- but then Jared hadn't managed to restrain himself either. The rest of the cast seemed to have accepted this part of their relationship, for good or ill.

Even Misha, who had started dropping by to observe rehearsals, which Jensen was surprised to find didn't annoy him nearly as much as he'd anticipated, seemed practically ready to adopt Jared and take him home and feed him candy.

On Tuesday, Genevieve Cortese was waiting for Jensen on the steps of the college when he arrived for rehearsal. She smiled brightly when she saw him, and Jensen gave her a cautious smile back.

"Hi," he said, hoping that was brusque enough to be discouraging.

"Hi, Jensen," she said. "I'd love to get a few minutes with you about Much Ado."

"About our new actor, you mean."

Genevieve's eyes lit up. "Pretty exciting!"

"I'm not doing any more interviews, sorry," Jensen said firmly. "I'm sure the members of the Board would be happy to talk to you about it."

In the past few days, Jensen had been asked -- required, really -- by the Festival to do more interviews and press releases than he'd ever done in his life. As Danneel would gleefully testify, Jensen was historically not very tactful with the press. Genevieve herself had interviewed him twice before: once when the initial promotion for the festival had started, and secondly for his reaction to the Festival's announcement of the casting change. The first had been before Misha's accident. Genevieve had asked him some very simple, softball questions, Jensen had recited his memorized bit back to her, and she'd condensed it into a single line in her Upcoming Summer Festivities column in the Daily Star. She'd been pretty easy on him. The second time she interviewed him, Jensen had been giving the same sound byte to every reporter he spoke with and it had been mercifully brief.

Now she was in front of him again with that bright smile and fire in her eyes.

"Oh, the Board directed me to speak to you." Genevieve's eyebrows rose a little and her lips twitched in amusement. "Maybe you should check your messages." She settled back on the bench outside the doors, her face upturned and her dark hair shiny in the morning sunlight. "I can wait."

Jensen made a face and stalked inside. Of course the Board wanted to milk the Jared Padalecki situation as much as possible.

Well, to be fair, it was working. The Much Ado production was getting wider media coverage than the entirety of the Festival. There was even a popular Twitter hashtag: #jaredpadaleckiwearstights. All of which was good, of course, Jensen was well aware of that. But Jensen had a hell of a lot still to do on this production, and every moment of time he spent talking to reporters, he could be actually working on his play.

Julie waved at him as he passed by her desk. He waved back and ducked into his office. There were indeed several memos in his inbox, one of which was from the chairwoman's assistant, telling him to schedule an appointment for an interview with Genevieve Cortese.

Well, great.

Before heading back outside, Jensen made a quick detour to check on rehearsal. Danneel, of course, had everything well in hand. The cast was running through lines and warm-up routines.

"Where have you been?" Danneel asked mildly.

"I've gotta take care of something," he said. "Can you run rehearsal for a half hour?"

Danneel's eyebrows rose. "Take care of what, exactly? You eat, sleep, breathe and shit this play."

Jensen cast her a glance of annoyance. "I do not. I have other things going on."

Danneel's expression was a master class in skepticism. "Do you? What's this 'something' you need to deal with then?"

He glared at her. "Okay, yes, I'll admit that this particular something is about this play."

She grinned in triumph. "Ah, yes? Do tell."

Their conversation had gathering the rest of the cast's attention and they were looking at him with interest. Misha was lounging in a chair by the wall. He grinned and waved cheerfully when Jensen saw him.

"There's a local reporter waiting outside," Jensen said grudgingly. "That's all. I just have to do a brief interview to soothe feathers with the Board. Promotional stuff, you know."

Danneel's expression was almost comical in its equal parts horror and delight. "You mean -- Genevieve Cortese's out there?"

Danneel's crush on Genevieve was honestly the size of Benedick's ego. Jensen thought it was very cute. Especially when she got all flustered.

"Well, yes. She is the local arts and culture reporter," he said, amused.

Danneel had subscribed to the local paper about a minute and a half after she'd met Genevieve and discovered what she did, so Jensen happened to know that Genevieve also occasionally wrote restaurant reviews, obituaries, and op ed pieces. He also knew that she used to write for a magazine in LA before she moved to Aldersen and that she still sometimes freelanced. Danneel had tracked those articles down, too.

The only thing they didn't know about her was whether she'd like to go on a date with Danneel, and that was because Danneel was being a chickenshit about it.

"Maybe we could invite her in to observe rehearsal," Sandy said brightly.

Jensen turned to stare at her in surprise. Rehearsals weren't going terribly but they weren't going especially well, either. No one beyond Katie and Sandy seemed to actually trust Jared yet, and it was seeping out of every scene. They were going to have to address it -- and soon -- but it was a confrontation Jensen had been putting off. In any case, they were in no way prepared to have an outside observer present. Especially an outside observer with a tape recorder and a press badge.

Then Jensen realized that Sandy's gaze was fixed on Danneel, who was still unexpectedly flushed. Sandy whispered something to Aldis, who looked surprised and then grinned knowingly. Jensen narrowed his eyes at them. They looked like they were -- scheming.

"It's not a bad idea," Jared said, unexpectedly. "We get reporters on set sometimes on Last Frontier. They hang around, look at all the lights and tech stuff, and Tweet updates to their fans. We're all on our best behavior and then they go home and write a fluff piece about how nice we all are to one another and how it's one of the most professional sets they've ever seen."

Katie turned to look at Jared, her eyes wide. "I've totally read that article! I can't believe you were faking."

Jared rolled his eyes and grinned at her. "We're actors," he said. "We all have big egos."

"Some bigger than others," Jensen pointed out sharply.

Jared's eyes shifted to Jensen and his lids dropped over his irises. "Some of us are big all over," he said lazily.

Sandy giggled. Aldis shook his head. Jensen's throat felt a bit dry.

"I wasn't gonna mention it, but you do look like you're packing on the pounds," he shot back.

"Okay, we should get back to rehearsal," Danneel said. "Go on, Jensen. Stop acting like a baby and answer the lady's questions."

Jensen choked. "I'm not a baby --" he started.

Jared was laughing out loud and half of the rest of his cast was snickering. Traitors. "Don't worry," Jared said, his dimples peeking out of his cheeks and his eyes glinting. "I think there's a prop sword around here somewhere if you need to defend yourself from the Big Bad Reporter who wants to do a fluff piece on your play."

Jensen scowled at him and opened his mouth for a comeback when Sandy said impatiently, "Aldis totally saw Genevieve making out with Alona Tal at the closing night party last year." She was almost bouncing on her toes in excitement. Aldis was nodding in agreement. "She's at the very least bi-curious. I mean, in case that was what was stopping you," she said to Danneel.

Danneel looked unconvinced by that, and Jensen couldn't exactly blame her. He'd been to enough closing night parties to know that adrenaline was heightened, inhibitions were lowered, and actions were taken that were not to be spoken of the following day. If anyone even remembered the following day. It was a thing. Actors and booze; a match made in mutually-obliviated heaven.

"This is not about Danneel getting a date," Danneel said firmly. "She can get her own dates, thanks all the same."

"No evidence of that so far," Katie said pointedly, her eyebrow raised.

The look Danneel gave them was firm, her expression set and her eyes flinty. Jensen knew that look of hers: stern, utterly sure, unmoveable. It was the kind of look all directors valued highly in their stage managers -- except of course when it was turned against the director himself. But Jensen knew her pretty well by now, and there was a little blip in her fierce gaze that made him pause. This was Danneel, who was probably Jensen's favorite person in the world.

Never mind the fact that his cast had spontaneously decided to act out the matchmaking scene from Fiddler on the Roof, Jensen thought, maybe the plan wasn't such a terrible one after.

Besides, if he pulled this off, that might keep the Board from breathing down his neck about the goddamn press.

"We could do Act III, Scene i," Jensen said slowly. "We've already got the blocking done."

Danneel stared at him, shocked.

"I'm going to go talk to her for a few minutes first," Jensen said. "And if I get a good feeling about it, I'll bring her back." He paused and glanced at Danneel, before leveling a glare at his entire company. "I need you all to be clear that this is a professional visit," he said. "There will be no attempts to -- get people to date other people."

His cast nodded agreeably. Far too agreeably, Jensen suspected. Even Mark had a small grin on his face.

Jensen hoped to God this didn't blow up in his face. Or in Danneel's face.

"Tell her I shall willingly pose for pictures," Misha called out as Jensen left to fetch the reporter. "Actually, no -- don't! Tell her I will reluctantly pose for pictures, and make it seem like a big deal."

Act III

Jared stared directly into Katie's eyes. She matched him, unblinking. Her eyes were brilliantly, startlingly blue.

Beatrice had just interrupted Benedick. It was the monologue Jared was the least sure of -- the one wherein, thanks to the matchmaking of his friends, he convinces himself that he's in love with Beatrice. Jared never managed to find the right balance there between sincerity and sarcasm, and it kept coming across as fake.

He cleared his throat.

"Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner," Katie said.

"Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains," he said.

Katie scoffed lightly. "I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come."

They were getting better, but Jared still felt like the two of them hadn't found the right aspect of their relationship. It was easier somehow when the rest of the cast (and Jensen, Jared's conscience whispered to himself) weren't watching them. It was a strange kind of reasoning, Jared knew; after all, they were actors and they were supposed to be on stage in front of people. On the set of Last Frontier, Jared was used to having twenty-odd people staring at him, scene after scene, take after take. So it wasn't that he was unused to eyes on him during rehearsals.

Maybe he and Katie still needed time to get comfortable with one another.

Actually, they probably needed to get spectacularly drunk together.

At the moment, the rest of the cast was occupied with costume fittings or one of the other scenes. No eyes were on them. It was just Beatrice and Benedick, alone in the world of the stage.

"You take pleasure then, in the message?" Jared asked archly. Inwardly he winced. That line reading felt wrong -- too high, too flippant. There needed to be an element of earnestness in the question. Benedick had just been informed by his friends that Beatrice was in love with him, after all, so he needed to be searching for the proof in her actions, in her responses. He wasn't sure of anything, but he wants.

Katie's face twisted into an expression of mixed confusion and disdain. Somehow she gave the expression the appropriate comical tilt; she was practically rolling her eyes without so much as fluttering an eyelash. Jared was impressed and envious.

"Yea," she said, and her voice was pitched to a perfect level of sarcasm. "Just as much as you take upon a knife's point."

Jared was ready with his comeback, when he was distracted by the rehearsal room door swinging open. Jensen stood in the doorway again, and this time there was a pretty, dark-haired woman in a grey coat behind him. She peered interestedly over his shoulder and gave a kind of dorky half-wave.

"Oh, hi, everyone," Jensen said, realizing he had the attention of the room. "This is Genevieve. Cortese. She's writing a short piece on us for the paper and I thought she might like to drop in on rehearsal."

Jared snuck a glance over at Danneel. Her face looked a little flushed.

"I'm sure you know most of these folks, Genevieve," Jensen said, and proceeded to do a quick rundown of names. Genevieve's eyes lingered on Samantha, Misha, and then met Jared's eyes steadily -- even though Jensen practically tripped over his tongue to get Jared's name out quickly and move on to Katie.

Jared glanced at her, and Katie flicked him a bemused look. "What say we go introduce ourselves to the press?" he said, low enough that no one could hear them. He'd volunteered himself for this, after all, and he just hoped his agent wouldn't kill him for doing an impromptu interview without getting the go-ahead from her first.

Katie raised her eyebrow. "You really can't get enough of your adoring public, can you?" she said, but she was smiling slyly at him.

Jared held out his arm with a flourish. That made the eyebrow go up even higher, but a full-fledged grin appeared a second later and she took his arm gracefully and they strode over to the doorway.

Jared didn't like to brag, exactly, but he was good with reporters. He knew he was charming and likeable, and he used that to his full advantage. It usually didn't hurt to pull out the Texas twang now and then, either.

He'd been through a few rough spots when it came to his public image. He'd had to deal with the very worst pushy kinds of questions, and he'd stood firm and smiled at them politely and firmly said "No comment" when they wanted to know who he was dating and who he was sleeping with. He'd dealt with the paparazzi and the tabloids and the endless internet speculation, and compared to that, Genevieve Cortese from the Aldersen Daily Star was going to be a walk in the park.

"Hey," he said, smiling warmly at her. "I'm Benedick. But you can call me Jared."

She smiled and flushed a little. Jensen shot him a strange look. "Hi Jared," she said. "I'm Gen."

"Good to meet you," he said and reached out to shake her hand. She seemed unsure whether to look pleased or bemused, and ended up with an expression that was a rather charming mixture of the two. Jared could see why Danneel might like her; she was adorable.

Katie introduced herself and they shook hands. "Do you have a moment to answer some questions?" Genevieve asked.

He and Katie sat and talked with her for fifteen minutes while Jensen eavesdropped kind of obtrusively from two feet away. Genevieve managed to ignore him, despite the way he tended to loudly grunt his agreement or disapproval. Jared found this admirable and immediately liked her even more. Katie followed Jared's cue and also ignored Jensen as blatantly as possible. Jared also found that rather enjoyable, especially for the way it made Jensen tense with irritation at the idea that he was being overlooked. Jared inwardly rolled his eyes; Jensen could be such a drama queen.

Genevieve, it transpired, was truly a theater geek at heart. She'd seen the last two productions Katie had been in, and was fully aware of the reputations of the rest of the cast as well. She even seemed to know that Jensen had a theater company in Austin when Katie made an off-hand reference to it. Jared flicked a glance in Jensen's direction. He'd known Jensen was involved in a small theater, but he didn't know many details. But from the way Jensen's body went ramrod straight and his face carefully blank, Jared figured that was something for later and smiled politely at Genevieve again.

"How do you feel about the fact this production has such a youthful cast?" she asked them. "Considering the history of the actors who have played Beatrice and Benedick, you two are really on the young end of the spectrum."

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment," Jared said, grinning. "This production is a youthful one, and that gives it an exciting kind of energy."

"We're both proud to be here," Katie agreed. "And I think we're both excited about the possibilities."

Genevieve thanked them when they were finished, and sat down to watch rehearsal next to Misha. Afterwards, she spoke briefly with Samantha, Mark, Sandy, and Aldis, and it seemed to be going so well that Jared thought Jensen actually looked less likely to implode with each passing minute.

Then, just as she was saying her goodbyes and preparing to leave, Jensen said, "Oh, wait! You haven't met the person who keeps us all together. Danny, where'd you get to?"

Danneel was sitting in a folding chair near the stage they'd blocked off with tape. She looked up and blinked.

"Danneel Harris," Jensen said to Genevieve. "Our brilliant and capable stage manager."

Danneel stood up.

"Hello," Genevieve said. She held out her hand. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, though Jared wasn't sure if it was a result of Danneel's attention on her or the warmth of the room. Regardless, she looked -- well, lovely.

"Good to meet you," Danneel said evenly.

Jared tried not to watch them too closely, but it was a little difficult because everyone in the room was staring at them. There was so much attention concentrated in one place, Jared thought they might burn a hole through the linoleum floor.

Genevieve shifted on her feet.

"Danny, d'you think you could help Genevieve find her way out of here?" Jensen said.

"Oh, I'm sure I can find --" Genevieve said at the same time as Danneel blurted, "Sure, I'd love to --"

They both stopped.

"Well, I'll just let you --" Danneel started.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd --" Genevieve said at the same time.

They stopped again. It was like watching a train wreck, Jared thought bemused. An adorable lesbian train wreck. You couldn't look away, and you couldn't help cheering them on.

Okay, so maybe the train wreck metaphor had got away from him a little bit.

Danneel's neck was flushed against the white collar of her shirt. Her eyes were a little wild. Genevieve had a half-smile trembling on her lips, and she looked as uncertain as hell.

"Well, that's settled," Katie said smoothly when it looked like icebergs could melt and land masses erode before either of them was going to make a move. "Don't worry about us, Danny, Jensen'll be responsible for us while you're gone."

"Hey," Jensen said, a beat too late. Katie shot him a grin.

"Uh, okay," Danneel said, glancing away from Genevieve for the first time. "We can -- I'll just show Genevieve to the door. I'll be back shortly. Don't mess with the blocking while I'm gone."

"Oh, it's Gen, please," Genevieve said. She was smiling at Danneel.

When they'd gone, Misha said, "I didn't know I'd be missing out on getting set up on dates when I broke my leg."

"Oh, like you and Vicki need help with that," Sandy said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, that's our good deed done for the day," Katie said. There was a satisfied grin plastered on her face.

"Yes indeed," Jensen deadpanned. "Who knew this rag tag bunch of actors could come together with such matchmaking success. I declare you all yentas extraordinaire."

Seeing as Jensen had been the one who had brought Genevieve to the rehearsal room in the first place, Jared thought that was pretty disingenuous of him. He rolled his eyes. "We merely follow you, oh fearless leader," he intoned.

Jensen sputtered a little at that, which made Jared grin. Things felt like they were looking up.

The following morning after his run, Jared ran into Genevieve Cortese at the local bakery. She was buying two biscuits and two tall coffees, and she looked surprised and then flushed when she saw him.

It was his general rule of thumb not to talk with the press outside of scheduled events. It was stressful, for one thing, and it was pretty easy to screw up. But this didn't feel like that at all, and Jared couldn’t help grinning at her, wide and genuine.

"Hi," he said. "Breakfast date?"

She smiled at him. "Yes," she said. "Don't tell me you're surprised."

"Only if you tell me it's not with Danneel," he said easily.

She sighed. "You guys were not particularly subtle," she said. "Y'know, it's kind of intimidating to have an entire room full of people try to set you up at once."

"Well, we're all expecting weekly reports," Jared said. "We have a vested interest in this, you know."

Genevieve laughed, but it was a little forced. Jared gave her his most convincing smile. "Sorry, I'm just joking about that. We're just wishing y'all well, that's all."

"Sure," she said. "Of course." She juggled the coffees and bakery bags in her hands and ended up putting them down on a nearby empty table. She took a sip of one of the coffees. "It's just that there's some pressure there, you know?"

"Well," Jared said. "I can tell you from experience that you've got it easy. I mean, when I was on Last Frontier a terminally ill matchmaking alien from the Andromeda system tried to fix up the whole hospital before she died. It was utter chaos."

Genevieve laughed. "You're right," she said solemnly. "I have not had to encounter that."

Jared smiled. "It looks like you should be getting that coffee somewhere soon."

"Well --" She looked at him. "I'm a little early, and I wouldn't mind collecting my thoughts for another few minutes." She flushed. "Do you -- would you like this one? I'll get another for Danneel in a few."

"Black?" Jared said.

She nodded and pushed the sugar and cream towards him.

"Very well, I accept," Jared said. "But only if you sit and tell me how you came to be in this town."

Genevieve turned out to be from LA, and they bonded over everything they were missing from back home. Then Genevieve mentioned The Third Man, and Jared couldn't help geeking out about old movies with her which obviously let to the futility of attempting to remake classics. In the end, Jared delivered her in person to a startled Danneel only a few minutes late. But from the way Danneel's eyes lit up when she saw Genevieve, Jared didn’t think she minded too much.

"Do you dress in the dark?" Jensen said later, just before rehearsal started the following day.

Jared raised his eyebrow. "You don't like yellow?"

"I would've though someone with a personal stylist would have the good sense not to pair a yellow shirt with black jeans. You look like a gigantic bumblebee."

"Mmm, and Jensen will be your honeypot," Danneel added.

Jensen shot her an annoyed look. "Okay, that doesn't even make sense," he said.

Jared grinned and stripped off his yellow button-down. He was wearing a grey T-shirt underneath, and he was well aware of the fact that it was a little on the tight side.

What? He needed to do laundry.

"Better?" he said.

Danneel hid her laugh behind her hand. Jensen snapped his mouth shut.

Jared slid down next to Katie and knocked his shoulder lightly against hers. "Hey, I was thinking we should get drunk together tonight," he said.

"I was just thinking that!" she said. "I think we definitely need to drunkenly bond."

"Okay, 'bond' isn't code for 'bone,' is it?" Jared said. He shook his ass a little in his chair. "I know you want this."

She laughed. "I meant bond as in learn embarrassing secrets about one another. And then forget them in the haze of vomit the next day!"

"Wow, you sure know how to make it sound fun."

"Hey, everyone," Jensen said loudly at the front of the room, standing up. "To begin this morning, I'd like to run through something with just Jared and Katie. Can I get the rest of you to run through Act II, Scene iii?"

Katie met Jared's eyes and shrugged a little. They followed Jensen to the room next door.

"I want you guys to feel comfortable," Jensen said.

"We're comfortable," Katie said. "We're more than comfortable. We've already got plans to get drunk and make out." She winked at Jared.

Jensen's look of shock was well worth it. Jared kept his smug grin to himself.

"Well," Jensen said, his voice a slow drawl. Jared tensed up just at the tone. "He does get a lot of practice kissing people."

That cut a little too close to home; Jared hated the fact that the character he played on TV affected how people saw him. "Practice makes perfect," he said lightly.

Jensen didn't push it. "This is the first scene, and the first time we see Beatrice and Benedick speaking," he said. "They've known each other for a long time. And they've fallen into this pattern of bickering, a 'merry war', every time they see one another. To everyone else, the characters and the audience, it's a source of amusement. And it is to them, too, because they love the back-and-forth, the push-and-pull of it." Jensen paused and glanced at both of them. "There's an edge to it, though, and we can't forget that. They've hurt one another in the past. There's history there. They've sliced into one another and cut right down to the bone."

Katie was watching Jensen carefully, her gaze soft and her expression intent. "'I know you of old,'" she quoted softly.

Jared didn't think he'd be able to speak if he opened his mouth, so he just nodded.

"They're alike in so many ways, Beatrice and Benedick," Jensen continued, his voice quiet and sure. "Smart. Sharp. Brave. Foolhardy. Oblivious. Stubborn. There's so much between them that they don't want to see that it's there, the storm of passion, the beginnings of something. They keep cutting it out before it can take root."

"They're scared," Katie said softly. "Scared of taking the step, of admitting they're fallible also."

"Yes," Jensen said, nodding. "They mock lovers and disdain the concept of love and marriage. They consider themselves superior. But secretly, they want some of it, too."

Jared swallowed and stared down at the battered and marked-up copy of his script in his hands. He didn't think he could meet Jensen's eye.

"You guys know these characters. You've been breathing life into them, and it's palpable. You're building an energy that's affecting the whole production and it's a very positive thing." He paused. Jared risked a glance upwards, and Jensen was looking at the makeshift stage behind them. "From the first time we see them on stage together, we can see it. This is powerful stuff, the first punch, the first verbal volley." He paused. "The first orgasm. Mind-blowingly good, but it just leaves you craving another."

Katie let out a short guffaw. "An orgasm, boss?" she said.

Jensen just stepped back. "Well, let's see, shall we?" he said calmly. Jared didn't know how he could stand there as if his heart weren't racing. "From 'I wonder that you will be talking.'"

Katie shot Jared a wry grin. "You're sure about that wanting-another-dick-in-bed thing?" she said.

Jensen glanced over at Jared, eyes wide and lips parted. Smugly, Jared ignored him and smiled at Katie. "If ever boobs were welcome, yours would be the ones I'd choose," he said.

"Flatterer," she said, and stepped back.

Jared took a breath, slow in and slow out, letting himself settle into the character. When he raised his eyes, Katie met his steadily.

"I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick," Beatrice said. "Nobody marks you."

"What, my dear Lady Disdain!" Benedick returned. "Are you yet living?"

They dropped easily into the dialogue together and Jared could feel the words flowing through his veins, strong and sure.

Later that night, he and Katie got blazingly drunk together, just the two of them in Jared's small apartment, and then went out for breakfast at the diner down the street.

"If I tell my friends that I got drunk with Ray Stryke and he didn't try to make out with me, they'll never believe me," she told him.

"Well, I am not Ray Stryke," Jared said. "And also, Ray has some non-sexual relationships."

"Non-sexual relationships with people who aren't his sister?" Katie said, taking a sip of coffee and looking at him over the rim.

Jared shook his head at her in amusement. Ray liked sex and tended to have lots of consensual sex with likeminded people -- it was a lifestyle that was considered the norm for his home world, but which had a tendency to cause scandals and drama on the space station. All in all, it made for good TV and it generally represented sex-for-pleasure and bisexuality in a positive way, so Jared didn't mind so much.

The problem was when people started equating Ray Stryke with Jared.

"What made you come here, anyway?" Katie said, slathering butter on her toast.

Jared looked up in surprise at the change in conversation topic and realized he'd been drifting for long enough to get her attention.

"What d'you mean?" he said, stalling. "I heard they have the best coffee in town."

She shot him an unimpressed look. "It doesn't seem much like your other work, is all."

Jared shifted uncomfortably; he caught himself, and gave her a wide smile instead. "Maybe that's the point," he said. He winked at her. "Why? Have you been taking bets on the chances of me forgetting my lines on opening night?"

She didn't seem to find that funny. "Of course I haven't," she said.

Her reaction made Jared pause. He put down his fork.

"But other people have?" he said.

She looked up at him, her face a little troubled.

"It's not that exactly," she said. "Everyone in Much Ado is behind you. We're just -- hearing a lot of buzz from some other people around the Festival. They're just jealous," she added quickly. "Cause we're getting more press than they are, thanks to you, and they all have superiority complexes about being the mainstage production." She shook her head.

"What have they been saying?" Jared said. He suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. He'd developed a pretty thick skin living in LA; he wasn't sure what it was that made him suddenly so sick to his stomach.

"Nothing!" Katie said quickly. "The usual. Y'know. Cult TV star, not a True Shakespearean, all that bullshit. As if the two were mutually exclusive. Complete crap, obviously."

"Just the Macbeth people," Jared said, not quite managing to make it a question. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Just them," Katie said staunchly. "We know you better than that."

Jared nodded and looked into his creamy cup of coffee. Don't think too hard, Hollywood, he heard echoing in his head.

By the time Jensen made it to his office, there were six alarmingly-colored memos in his in-tray.

"Maybe you should check your email more regularly," Julie suggested, reading over his shoulder.

Jensen made a face. The festival had set him up with an email address, and he'd honest-to-God tried to keep up with it. But the messages that were relevant to him and his play always seemed to be buried amidst a flurry of emails full of useless administrative babble. Now he mainly relied on Danneel to pass on any information pertinent to their show.

"I don't suppose I could pay you to read through my emails and print out the ones I actually need to read?"

Julie's expression told him quite clearly where he could stuff that idea.

"Right, yeah," he said.

There were probably a billion unread emails in his inbox by now. It was hopeless to even think about sorting through them, not when he hadn't finished the blocking on Act V, or made final decisions about props and masks for the dance scene, or begged the Board for extra funds to complete Jared's costume. After Jensen finished horrifying himself over the thought of the mess of emails, he tried to pay one of the stagehands to weed through the inbox. He thought it would be okay as long as they didn't tell Danneel.

Unfortunately, they turned out to be far more loyal to Danneel than Jensen had anticipated.

"You tried to pay Marco to answer your emails?" she demanded the next morning. "Are you a child? Do you need someone to tie your shoelaces for you, too?"

Jensen looked down at his shoes -- which he'd tied himself before he'd left his room, thank you very much. "I tried to pay him to filter my emails," he said. "There's a difference. Though seeing as he clearly doesn’t know the meaning of the word discretion, I'm glad I didn't give him my password."

"Whatever, you've totally forgotten your password," Danneel said.

"You're just trying to trick me into giving it to you," Jensen shot back.

Danneel rolled her eyes, but didn't question him further. Jensen glanced at her suspiciously. "You're in a good mood," he said cautiously.

A half-grin slid hesitantly across her face.

"I knew it!" Jensen said. "You're getting regular sex now with the hot reporter, aren't you?"

Danneel clamped her mouth shut and looked furtively around them. "Don't be an asshole," she hissed.

"Don't be a lying liar who lies," Jensen shot back, keeping his voice low even though there was no one around.

"Don't call her the hot reporter. Her name's Gen," Danneel said.

"Okay, so. Gen. Tell me something I don't know."

"Okay, there may have been sex," she admitted.

Jensen grinned. "Well, I know that."

"It was after we went to dinner. We both fell asleep watching Colbert on her couch and when we woke up, we. Well."

"That's ridiculously adorable," Jensen said, still grinning. "And hot. And I'm not even into that kind of thing."

Danneel looked at him. "I think -- I'm worried I like her more than she likes me," she said, all in a rush. "

"What? That's impossible. You're amazing."

"Says the gay guy," Danneel said.

"Says your friend," Jensen countered. "You were hopelessly crushing on this girl from afar for a while. Give her a chance to catch up."

Danneel let out her breath. "Okay, yeah. I guess I'm thinking too much about what's going to happen when the summer's over."

Jensen nodded. "Well, it's not over yet."

She smiled. "When we were at Jared's last night to watch Last Frontier --"

"Wait, what?" Jensen said.

Danneel paused and raised an eyebrow. "You may not consider the show worthy of your most precious and invaluable time or what-the-fuck-ever, but --"

"No, it's -- I mean, you watched the show with Genevieve and Jared? At Jared's place?"

"Yeah," Danneel said defiantly. "And Katie and Sandy were there, too. So?"

Jensen floundered for a minute. Of course it was a good thing his cast was getting along. And it was a great thing that Danneel and Genevieve seemed to like each other so much. But the idea of all of them together, hanging out like old friends, made something twist in his stomach. It was hard not to remember that he and Jared had been close friends, once upon a time.

"It's kind of weird that he watches a show he stars in himself, don't you think?" Jensen eventually came up with.

Danneel looked at him with a knowing expression. "It's not something he'd do if Katie hadn't badgered him into it the first week he was here," she said. "If that's what's bothering you."

"Right," Jensen said awkwardly.

"When Ray Stryke had a sex scene, he went into the kitchen."

Jensen definitely did not want to think about Ray Stryke's sex scenes. "Yeah, okay, I get it. D'you wanna talk about work now or what?"

"So," Jensen said. "The 'world must be peopled' speech."

He'd sent everyone else home and now it was just him and Jared in the rehearsal room. This was the speech that kept tripping Jared up. He never fully committed to it during rehearsal, and it was one of the turning points of the play: the moment when Benedick realizes he's in love with Beatrice.

He sat down next to Jared on the couch.

Jared gave him a smile. It was a good one, a charming and confident one. But Jensen thought he was getting pretty good at dissecting Jared's smiles, and this one was definitely an act. Jared was uneasy, nervous even, and maybe it was the thought of Jared standing alone in his kitchen while his character on TV was having sex, but for once that didn't make Jensen want to sharpen his wit and strike.

"Yeah, the speech," Jared said.

"This is Benedick at his rawest," Jensen said. Jared met his eyes. "I think, y'know, as human beings, at times we're forced to face truths about ourselves that we've avoided for some reason. Benedick's just overheard the matchmaking ploy of his friends; he's heard them say that Beatrice is in love with him. Well, Beatrice has consumed almost all of his thoughts since he arrived there. If she loves him, then -- well, then, maybe he loves her too. This is the man who had determined not to marry, facing the fact that he's been in love all this time. Coming to terms with a part of him that he hasn't wanted to see."

Jared nodded and leaned forward. He was close enough that the scent of him filled Jensen's nose: the plain soap from the college bathrooms, the hint of sweat, the sting of the orange he ate with his lunch, the spiciness of his expensive aftershave. His hair fell forward in his eyes, and it was all Jensen could do to keep his mind on what he needed to say.

"It takes something out of you," Jared said seriously. "Facing something like that."

"Yes," Jensen said, and he was shocked to hear how breathless he sounded. He cleared his throat. "But he gains something, too. So there's that."

"You mean love," Jared said.

"Yes. And a greater knowledge of himself. Of what kind of person he is."

"And what does Beatrice gain?"

Jensen stared at Jared for a moment. "Well, they're more alike than they want to admit."

There was a small smile curling at the corner of Jared's mouth. "Oblivious," he said.

Jensen gave a half-shrug and twisted his lips upwards. "Stubborn."

Jared was so close to him. They were sitting on the couch facing each other, their legs angled together, knees almost touching. Jensen could feel the space between them like a material thing, pulsing and bright with electricity.

He had not intended this to go this way.

What are you doing, his brain said.

If his body had any idea, it didn't bother to answer.

"It doesn't have to be like that," Jared said.

"Like what?" Jensen said. He felt a little dizzy. They were speaking so quietly they were almost breathing the words at one another.

"So lonely," Jared said. His face changed. "Jensen --"

"I --" Jensen said.

Jared met Jensen's eyes and reached out to touch him. It was soft, gentle, the pads of Jared's fingertips just brushing the skin of Jensen's cheek. Jensen opened his mouth, but for once there didn't seem to be any words waiting to come out, just the harsh sound of his own breath, loud in the sudden stillness.

Leaning forward felt natural. Jared leaned forward, too, until he was too close for Jensen to make out his features properly -- just a blur of cheekbones and nose and lashes. Then Jared's mouth was on his and Jensen opened for him with a small sound, the thrust of Jared's tongue in his mouth like a brand. Their lips dragged against one another, noses bumping, teeth clashing, stubble scraping, clumsy in their eagerness. Jared's lips and tongue were pushy and insistent, and Jensen returned the pressure, digging his fingertips into Jared's jawline to open his mouth just a little wider.

It was the first time they'd ever kissed, Jensen thought dizzily. He had no idea how it could feel so -- so familiar. Like they'd been doing this since they first met.

Jared's hands were on his arms, tugging. Jensen let himself slip sideways into Jared, shoulders bumping, thighs pressing hot against each other, fingers scrabbling at clothes. Jensen's skin burned everywhere they touched.

He hauled himself back with effort, his breath broken, his limbs shaky. He had to reassert some kind of control. He couldn't handle feeling so -- so --

Untethered.

There were already too many things Jensen had to worry about before opening night without adding the complications of kissing Jared to the list. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

But Jared's hands were gripping his arms, his fingernails digging through the material of Jensen's shirt. He didn't let Jensen move away.

"I should've known you'd be pushy," Jensen said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears.

Jared grinned and it was only a little lopsided. "Well, I should've known you'd try to boss me around, Mr. Director," he said.

The words startled Jensen into pulling away, valiantly ignoring the breathy noise of protest Jared let out.

"What're you --" Jared said.

"I'm your director," Jensen said. "We shouldn't engage in --" He stopped. "I'm your director," he repeated.

"Oh, for --" Jared said, and reached out to grab Jensen's hand. Jensen curled his fingers around Jared's before he could stop himself. "Like you haven't been in a play where people were messing around before. No one cares. Besides, you've spent the past few weeks bitching and snarking and yelling at me every chance you get. Are you gonna tell me that wasn't personal?"

Jensen flared. "That was for the good of --"

"Oh, yeah, the good of the play," Jared said. "I bet you got no personal satisfaction out of it."

"Just because I got -- personal satisfaction from occasionally yelling at you doesn't mean that we should --"

"Personally satisfy each other?" Jared said, his eyebrow raised.

He looked debauched sprawled there on the couch with his shirt rucked up a little and his lips kissed slick and plump and pink. He was smirking at Jensen, pure smug sex, and he was still holding Jensen's hand, and Jensen felt his whole body quiver with want.

Suddenly he knew exactly where he'd seen that look before.

"Holy fucking Christ," he gasped, pulling his hand away. "You're doing Ray Stryke on me right now."

Jared's face changed. "I am not!"

"You are too! You totally had that same look with that guy on the episode with the starship collision --"

"Ha! I knew you watched the show!"

Jensen snapped his mouth shut and glared. Jared looked gleeful. "I may have seen a few episodes," he said stiffly. "Parts of some episodes, anyway."

"I knew it," Jared said, and he stood up and kissed Jensen, laughing into his mouth. "You liar."

Jensen kissed back, despite himself. "You're still trying to pick me up using Ray fucking Stryke," he muttered.

"Pick you up?" Jared laughed. He licked the corner of Jensen's mouth. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

Jensen didn't answer right away. He bent his head to lick up Jared's long, smooth neck. The skin was warm under Jensen's mouth, and he could feel Jared's pulse speeding up and hear the way his breath caught in his throat.

"No," Jensen murmured. "It did not work. What happened was that I started talking about Shakespeare and got you all hot and bothered."

Jared had worked his hands under Jensen's shirt, and he scraped his nails into the skin at the curve of Jensen's lower back. Jensen felt his breath stutter.

He looked up to see Jared smirking. "Sorry, what was that again?"

Jensen bit down on Jared's throat and pushed him backwards so that he stumbled down onto the couch. He still looked debauched and seductive, with his shirt partially unbuttoned and his thighs spread, but there was something else in his expression too. Something raw and familiar that tugged at Jensen's heart.

Before he let himself think too hard about it, Jensen climbed on top of him, his thighs bracketing Jared's spread legs. Jared's hands came up to Jensen's hips, and he made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whine. When Jensen met his eyes, though, Jared said, arrogant as ever, "You really are trying to direct me, aren't you? How cute."

In reply, Jensen fucked his hips forward and Jared's hands tightened.

"What's cute is that you think you're in charge," Jensen said.

In reply, Jared's hand slid up Jensen's torso and shoulder in a long, shivery caress. His hand trailed along Jensen's neck until he cupped the back of Jensen's skull and pulled him firmly down for a kiss. His teeth nipped at Jensen's lips and his tongue slid confidently into Jensen's open mouth. Jensen gasped into it and sucked hard.

They made out for a long time, tongues tangling in each other's mouths and fingers curling deep into each other's bodies. Jensen kept a lazy rocking motion with his hips, and Jared gave it back in kind, rolling his hips up to meet every thrust. Every movement felt like a dare -- or a challenge, Jensen thought recklessly. Like they were keeping each other on the knife's edge, neither planning to break first.

Jensen was definitely not going to break first.

"For a famous TV star, I gotta say I was expecting you to have more game," he panted, just after Jared bit down deliberately on his earlobe.

"Oh, baby," Jared murmured, his breath tickling Jensen's ear as his hands started kneading Jensen's upper thighs. "I'm not even in my uniform yet."

Jensen was a little distracted by sucking at the mole near Jared's collarbone that was just visible under the neck of his shirt, but he stopped and glanced up at that. "What?" he said.

Jared made a disgruntled noise. "My uniform. Cause I'm still in the locker room. I'm saying, I'm not in the game yet."

Jensen laughed, leaning down to rest his forehead on Jared's shoulder. "Right. So you like uniforms, huh?"

"I'd like to see you in a uniform."

Jensen thought they'd kind of lost the thread of the sports metaphor, so instead he dropped open-mouthed kisses all along Jared's jaw until he reached Jared's lips. Then he fucked his tongue into Jared's mouth and ground his cock into Jared's lap. Hard.

Jared let out a low groan. The next thing Jensen felt were Jared's fingers slipping under the waistband of his jeans. Jensen's breath hitched. The pads of Jared's fingers were light on the hot skin of his lower back and the curve of his ass. Then one long finger slid arrogantly down his crease, teasing pressure on his sensitive skin. Jensen arched up desperately into the touch, barely registering the moan he let out.

"How d'you like that game?" Jared breathed against his mouth, his lips curved upwards.

Fair was fair, Jensen thought, and shoved his hand into Jared's boxers to wrap his hand around Jared's cock.

The noise Jared made did wonders for his ego. As did the way Jared started thrusting upwards and trying to pull Jensen down at the same time.

"We're not in high school, we don't have to --" Jared stuttered, his voice thick. "Like clothes off, maybe --"

Jensen already had his own zipper open. He pushed Jared's boxers onto his thighs, Jared raising his ass off the couch to help him, and got his own cock out to slide their erections together. Jared jaw dropped open and his head fell back with a thump. Jensen got his hand slick with precome and wrapped his fingers around both of them. He could feel the hardness of Jared's dick rubbing against his own, the bump of Jared's cockhead against his, hot and leaking. He felt like he was too big for his own skin. Jared's hand slipped in between them, too and Jensen looked down to stare. Both of their hands were moving, their fingers sliding together, their cocks pushing against one another in an eager, aggressive rhythm, their hips rocking together again and again. Jensen leaned forward mindlessly and their mouths slid against each other, and if Jensen was too incoherent to do more than pant hot and breathless into Jared's mouth, at least it seemed like Jared was unable to kiss properly, too. Jensen's whole body felt lit up, his nerves tingling, and oh God -- Shakespeare for all his genius had never been able to come up with adequate words for this.

Jensen was suspended for a moment, strung out and hot and glorious, before he was coming, spurting thick strands of come onto Jared's stupidly expensive shirt.

Jared gave a choked-out laugh, and for a moment Jensen furiously hoped that Jared didn't think Jensen coming first meant he'd won or something stupid like that, but then Jared was coming too, his chest heaving and his head thrown back, and he looked wonderfully, startlingly beautiful.

ACT IV

Jared's run felt like a breeze the next morning. His stride seemed longer, his limbs felt looser, and his blood seemed to pump easier through his veins.

It really had been a while since he'd had sex, he thought. He'd practically forgotten how good orgasms were when they involved someone besides his own hand.

At rehearsal, Jensen met his eyes with a sly and wicked leer and Jared felt heat lick up and down his spine. He grinned back.

"Well, you made it after all, Padalecki," Jensen said, even though Jared was barely two minutes late.

"So sorry, sir," Jared said, letting his tongue creep out to wet his bottom lip. Jensen's face went a bit slack, and Jared grinned with satisfaction.

They hadn't talked much afterwards, which actually felt kind of novel for them. But they had gone back to Jared's apartment, argued over what kind of microwave-able food to make, and then made out on Jared's couch. After that, they went to bed and tried to show one another up with their blowjob techniques. There hadn't exactly been an agreement on who won, but in Jared's opinion, competitiveness was not a downside when it came to sex.

Even rehearsal seemed to go well. At first, Jared wasn't sure if they were actually clicking better, or if he should chalk it up to his own positive sex-brightened perspective. But Katie solved that concern for him at lunch when she told him she thought things were feeling good.

"Yeah? For me too," he said, and he grinned at her wide and open.

She looked a little surprised. "You seem cheerful," she said carefully.

"Well, I guess it's cause I am cheerful."

She regarded him seriously. "It's kind of weird," she said.

Jared rolled his eyes at her.

"For your own good, I'm just sayin'," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching in a grin. "The public doesn't like it when celebrities get to be all happy and stuff. It makes them miserable to know rich and attractive people are happy with their riches and their attractiveness."

"Shut up, Cassidy."

"If you tell me what your secret is, I'll buy you a '2B or not 2B' pencil from the gift shop."

The Festival's gift shop wasn't open yet, and wouldn't be ready for customers until the preview night performances. The actors and crew had all got a sneak peak at some of the items on sale, however.

"No way," Jared said. "I'm holding out for one of those aprons that say 'I am a great eater of beef.'"

Katie laughed. "I bet you are," she said, and let it go.

When Jensen released them for the evening, Jared waited until everyone else had cleared out before he backed Jensen up against the wall and kissed him, hot and slick and fast.

Jensen's hands caught in his shirt and he hooked his leg around Jared's, slamming their bodies together.

"You know, no one likes a big tease," Jensen said archly. Jared was gratified by the way his voice sounded: rough, smoldering, breathless.

"You think this is teasing?" he said. "Cause you let me know, and I can show you teasing."

Jensen bit down on Jared's lip. "Oh yeah? So show me."

Jared was happy to demonstrate.

The next day the cast had an unusual but very welcome morning of respite while Jensen and Danneel sat in meetings with the marketing people. Jared still woke himself up early and went running before the heat of the day really hit.

He could still feel the rush of recent orgasms buzzing through him.

Orgasms with Jensen. Jared was still unable to wrap his head around that one. It didn't feel real. In fact, he wasn't sure what it felt like. Except good.

The way that he and Jensen had somehow managed to slide fairly competitive sex seamlessly into their already established routine was something Jared was really good at not thinking about.

In fact, he spent all morning continuing not to think about it.

He called his sister to find out how her summer internship was working out. He got in touch with two of his co-stars on Last Frontier to catch up and talk about what they wanted out of their character arcs for next season. He emailed his agent about the side projects for the coming year that she kept sending him. He made his dog-sitter take multiple videos of Sadie and Harley on her phone and email them to him so he could watch them over and over and over. He assault-texted Chad a series of lyrics from show tunes just to see how long it took for him to explode.

That still left a large amount of time free for him to think about Jensen's dirty mouth and how good Jared's cock looked stuffed in it.

All of which, for the most part, kept him successfully distracted from thinking about all the rest of the baggage that came with having sex with Jensen. It worked out well, really, he thought.

He got to the Festival early. The tents had been raised over the weekend in River Park, and the construction crew was putting together the seating. Jared sat in the shade of one of the trees and watched for a few minutes. It was hard to believe the production would be on the actual stage under the tents so soon.

He was still thinking about that when he heard someone say his name, and he tensed and sat frozen on the bench.

"--adalecki's an embarrassment, anyway."

"He's like a virtual Ken doll," another voice chimed in. "But without the charisma. And if I have to hear another word about Beatrice and Benedick in the press, I'm gonna vomit."

Jared didn't breathe.

"God," the first person said. "The fawning newspaper articles are so typical. As though being known for taking your shirt off on TV is so remarkable. Jesus. It's not like we're doing the Scottish play over here or anything."

It was one of the witches -- Jared didn't know her name -- and the guy who played Banquo. They were on the other side of the trees, close enough that Jared could smell their cigarettes. They couldn't have noticed him, but he didn't move a muscle all the same.

It was just stupid, vicious gossip. Jared knew that. The theater world was full of it, and in television -- well, it was everywhere in television, and he lived that everyday.

But. Jared was keenly aware of the truth at the heart of this gossip. He wasn't a Shakespearean actor, and he never had been.

"Hey, cancer break's over, we're back," someone else said, and the voices died away.

Jared still didn't move.

His fellow cast members might be endlessly supportive -- Katie was a genuine lifesaver, and even Mark and Sam were giving him smiles and encouragement now and then -- but Jared couldn't let his head swell. He had to be honest with himself. He was a clever marketing ploy, a tool to get butts in seats. That was all.

He didn't belong here.

It felt like a horrible cliché, but Jared went and locked himself in a bathroom stall.

Chad didn't answer Jared's phone call, which meant he was probably still pissed about the whole show tunes thing. Jared was trying to decide whether it would be more embarrassing to call his sister for the second time in one day -- and from a toilet on a college campus no less -- or Jensen, when his phone rang of its own accord. It was Genevieve.

Jared hesitated before he picked up. They'd been hanging out with increasing regularity ever since she and Danneel got together, but he didn't exactly want to lay something like this on her, either.

"Hey, listen," she said. "I got a copy of Touch of Evil from the library. Danneel's never seen it, if you can believe that. You in?"

"Yeah," Jared said immediately. Orson Welles, Marlene Dietrich, and Charlton Heston in a noir classic. He was definitely in.

There was a pause.

"Are you okay?" Genevieve said.

Jared blinked at the graffiti on the wall of the bathroom stall. There were two sets of initials inside a heart.

"You ever -- feel like you're not doing the right thing?" he said.

"Yeah, of course," she said. "Everyone feels that sometimes."

"No, I mean -- " Jared stopped.

"This isn't -- drugs, is it?" she said.

Jared let out a bark of laughter. "No, it's definitely not drugs," he said. He traced the shape of the heart with his pinky finger. RM + JC. Romeo and Juliet. "It's just. I don't feel like I belong here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know why they asked me here, and it's not -- it's not about deserving to be here. So. I dunno. It's --"

He stopped.

"You mean, it's about not feeling worthy," Genevieve said softly.

Jared didn't think about it in quite those terms, but he figured she saw what he was getting at. "Something like that," he said.

"Listen to me," she said firmly. "It's not about pedigree or training or your fucking resumé, okay? In the end it's about your performance. And you, my friend, are a good performer. So don't listen to whatever or whoever the fuck you've been listening to. Concentrate on the play. You are good enough for this. You belong here."

Jared nodded distractedly. Prove them all wrong, that's what she was saying. It was good advice. He should listen to her.

"Yeah," he said. He checked the time on his phone. He was late for rehearsal.

"Do I need to come over there and kick some sense into that crazy cast of yours?" Gen said. "Cause I'll do it. I've got an in with the stage manager, you know."

Jared let out a soft laugh. "So I hear," he said. "No, don't come. It's not them -- they're very supportive. I mean, considering."

"Don't be a doofus," Genevieve said. "I can and will quote motivational posters at you, you know. All day." She took a deep breath. "Hang in there. Steady the course. Sunshine comes after rain. Only through adversity comes greatness."

"Okay," Jared laughed. "Shut up, I get it. I'm late for rehearsal, I gotta go."

When he hung up the phone he didn't feel better, exactly, but there was a smile on his face, so that probably counted.

He still didn't have his head on straight, though. In rehearsal, he flubbed his lines so many times he started to lose count, and Katie's repeated hisses of "Hey, are you okay?" just made him more frustrated. The mood and energy in the rehearsal room dropped dramatically, and Jared knew that it was him, it was all him, and he still couldn't seem to pull himself together. Every dropped line seemed like more evidence of the fact that he wasn't supposed to be here -- that, Genevieve's pep-talk notwithstanding, he was not cut out for this.

It was a relief when Jensen called a dinner break. They still had two and a half hours left of rehearsal. Jared needed to go somewhere and dunk his head in cold water.

"Not you, Benedick," Jensen said, as Jared was reaching into his bag for his water bottle. The look on his face was grim. "You're not going anywhere."

Sandy threw him a sympathetic look, but the rest of the cast seemed too worn out and frustrated with the afternoon's disaster to lend him any support. Jared couldn't quite blame them.

"What," he said flatly.

"You know what," Jensen said.

"It's been a rough day," Jared said. "Sorry."

"Rough day or not, you can't just pull this diva shit. You can't expect that we'll forgive you just because --" Jensen took a breath. "You just can't expect everything to move around you."

Jared felt abruptly sick to his stomach. He was beginning to wish he'd never got out of bed that morning. "How do you even -- I don't think everything moves around me! When have I ever said that?"

Jensen shook his head. "Treating me like that is one thing. But the rest of them deserve your respect."

Jared glared at him. "Fuck you. Fuck you if that's what you think. You don't have a fucking clue."

"Yeah?" Jensen said challengingly. "Prove it, then. Pick up your sword."

When Jared stared at him in disbelief, Jensen picked up a sword from the props table, and swished it lazily. He nodded to the second sword on the table. Jared had no idea where they'd both come from. There weren't any swords in their production.

"Did you steal these from the Macbeth people?" Jared said. He got a vicious sort of satisfaction from saying the name of the play out loud. Jensen's eye twitched a little in response.

"I didn't steal them," Jensen said, affronted. "They're from props storage."

"What the hell is this going to prove?" Jared demanded.

"Don't tell me you're not going to rise to my challenge," Jensen said. The words sounded dirty coming out of his mouth, but Jared knew Jensen well enough to know this was not seduction. Not only seduction, anyway. This was -- Jensen goading him. And Jared knew he might deserve it for the horrible day he'd just put everyone through, but he still didn't want to let Jensen get away with that.

Jared picked up the sword and pretended to know what he was doing as he tested the weight and heft and all that crap.

"En garde!" Jensen said. His eyes were glittering.

Jared was not about to give Jensen the satisfaction of beating him just because Jensen happened to be good at something that Jared wasn't.

"Remember when you dueled -- what was that guy's name? It was midnight, in the south parking lot."

The look on Jensen's face was indecipherable. "I remember," he said. "I won."

Jared rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you're a virtuoso."

"Hey, I led the sword-fighting workshop spring semester that year!"

Jared knew that because he'd taken that workshop. He'd been the only freshman allowed in, and he knew the reason behind that.

"I know," he said, swallowing. "I remember."

He raised the sword and took a stance. His feet didn't quite seem to remember where to go, and he stood there for a moment feeling off-balance and ridiculous.

Jensen barely gave him a moment to prepare. He was moving in the next minute, his body elegant and purposeful, and Jared stumbled back, his sword arm raised awkwardly.

Jensen moved again, and Jared's parry was just as uncomfortable and uncontrolled, skittering down the length of Jensen's blade.

"Do you remember nothing I taught you?" Jensen said, his expression inscrutable.

"You taught me stage fighting," Jared said, frustration edging out in his voice. Stage fighting was scripted, prearranged, choreographed. There were steps to it, blocking, memorization. This was -- free fall. "And it was years ago," he added.

The reminder didn't seem to sit well with Jensen. "Don't tell me space operas never have sword fights."

As it happened, the show had thus far not included a sword fight, though Jared was now considering it might not be such a bad idea. A weightless sword fight would look really cool.

Jensen flourished his sword. "C'mon," he said. "Benedick's a soldier. He knows how to fight."

Jared lunged. Jensen danced out of the way, but his breath was coming faster and Jared felt an absurd sense of triumph. He lunged again and Jensen parried, his arm moving fast to block Jared's awkward strike.

"I'll tell you what my space opera does have," Jared gasped. "And that's the chance for me to play a well-rounded bisexual character on a network TV show. Mock it all you want, but that's -- something that actually means something to me."

Jensen looked startled, and Jared used the advantage to press Jensen back, their footsteps echoing loudly in the room.

"I know I play an alien," he went on. "And y'know, one day it would be pretty great to play a bisexual human being. Or a gay human being. But at this point I'll take what I can get."

"I didn't --" Jensen said and then stopped, breathing hard. "I didn't realize that was so important to you."

"Of course it's important to me!" Jared snapped. He leapt forward and Jensen blocked him easily.

Jensen had recovered now, and he moved forward again. Jared had to react quickly to deflect Jensen's blows. It was awkward and uncoordinated, and he stumbled backwards.

"Fight, Jared," Jensen hissed.

Jared knocked sharply at Jensen's sword with the flat of his blade. He'd intended to use blunt force make Jensen drop his sword, but Jensen recovered lightning-fast, his arm coming up again, blade at the ready.

Jared could feel sweat beading on his forehead. His whole body was pulsing with adrenaline-fueled energy and he didn't know where to make it go. He thrust back towards Jensen wildly, no control.

By the time Jensen cornered him, plastic blade to his neck, Jared was breathing hard and he was exhausted.

"Don't you fucking give up," Jensen said, his eyes focused and intense on Jared's. "Do not give up, d'you hear me?"

And God, Jared wanted to believe inthis more than anything. Wanted to believe in the faith Jensen was showing him right now, the bright hard certainty that had been so achingly familiar to Jared so many years ago, but that he'd lost along the way.

Then Jensen kissed him, sloppy and frantic, their swords clattering to the ground beside them. Jared opened up to him, kissing back desperately. This was territory he was familiar with. He could work with this.

"I'm not fucking giving up," he hissed, and he fucked his tongue into Jensen's mouth, and gripped his arms to slam him against the wall. Jensen let out a noise, but didn't stop kissing Jared, his breath hot and eager.

"The rest of 'em are gonna come back any minute," he muttered into Jared's mouth.

"Guess you better come sooner than that, then," Jared said into the underside of Jensen's jaw. He thumbed Jensen's nipple through the fabric of his shirt. He loved the noise Jensen made when he did that. He also loved the way Jensen slid his thigh between Jared's legs, torturous pressure on Jared's rapidly thickening cock. He could feel Jensen's long hot dick trapped in his dark jeans, pressed against Jared's hip.

"Is that a sword in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" he said breathlessly.

Jensen was startled into laughter. "Oh my god," he said. "That is truly horrible. Do you ever actually get laid with those lines?"

"Not doin' so bad so far," he said, and dropped to his knees.

He looked up to see Jensen staring down at him, his eyes wide and his mouth slack. "Uh, I meant it about people coming back soon. It's --"

"I meant it about you coming soon," Jared said. That was a really terrible retort, so as a distraction, he undid Jensen's fly, shoved his boxers out of the way, and pulled out his cock.

It should have been weird that after only a few days Jensen's cock smelled familiar to him. He mouthed at the tip, sweeping his tongue around the fat head, and lingered on the sensitive spot on the underside, licking up droplets of precome. Jensen had a great dick, Jared thought. He glanced up. Jensen was sagging against the wall, his mouth still hanging open, and he stared down, eyes wide and glassy.

Jared knew the feeling; he couldn't quite believe he was here either.

He opened his mouth and sucked down the head of Jensen's cock, laving slowly downwards with his tongue before twisting quickly back up. Jensen moaned encouragingly, and slid his hand into Jared's hair. Jared palmed Jensen's balls lightly before he wrapped his hand around the thick base of Jensen's dick and started up a rapid rhythm intended to make Jensen lose his mind as quickly as possible.

He opened his mouth wider, soaking up the nearly-choking feeling and the weight of Jensen on his tongue. The sensation made his own cock impossibly harder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared saw Jensen's hand clench knuckle-white on his own thigh. He slid his left hand up to grip it, and felt his heart flip when Jensen immediately threaded their fingers tight and gasped something that Jared couldn't make out. He whined again and bucked his hips, and Jared hummed encouragingly.

He could feel as Jensen went over the edge, and he pulled back enough so that Jensen spurted hot and wet onto his tongue. Jared swallowed it down and kept sucking gently at Jensen's sensitive cockhead until Jensen gasped and pushed him off.

Jensen fell to his knees next to Jared. He didn't even get Jared out of his jeans, just pressed the heel of hand on Jared's achingly hard dick and rubbed, sucking and biting at Jared's lips, his tongue seeking out the taste of his own come in Jared's mouth. Jared arched into the maddening pressure of Jensen's hand and was coming in the next instant, blindingly, embarrassingly fast.

He sagged against Jensen.

"I can't believe you just made me come in my jeans," he said hoarsely.

Jensen grinned. "Not gonna be the last time," he said.

Before Jared could register what exactly that meant, they heard a noise in the hall and scrambled for their clothes.

When Danneel came in, neither of them was naked but Jensen looked flushed and just-fucked, and Jared suspected he looked worse.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Danneel said. Jared was pretty sure that meant she knew exactly what had just happened.

"Shut up," Jensen said, his voice rough.

Jared shot her a pleading grin.

She sighed. "Just -- can you try not to be so fucking obvious next time?"

"Don't preach to me, Ms. I'm-Fucking-the-Press," Jensen said darkly.

Jared punched him lightly. Jensen leveled his glare in Jared's direction. Jared grinned back at him disarmingly

"Oh my God, please go to the bathroom and try to clean yourselves up," Danneel said.

Jensen annoyed him by standing in his way in front of the mirror while they were doing just that, and then used the last of the paper towel and didn't even look repentant when Jared had to dry his hands on his own shirt. In retrospect, he should have dried his hands on Jensen's shirt. After all, he was the one with spunk in his underwear.

It wasn't until they got back to the rehearsal room that Jared realized he'd stopped thinking about what he'd overheard that morning. He blinked, but the sick feeling didn't come rushing back.

When he took his cue to enter during later rehearsal, there was something almost familiar about the way the lines of dialogue unfurled in his head and rolled across his tongue. Like Jared could feel them deep inside, could feel himself start to trust them.

He let himself smile, just a little.

It was hot, and Jensen was sweating even before he got to rehearsals. He was still having a hard time sleeping. He couldn't get his brain to stop thinking about Much Ado for more than five minutes at a time, and the damn play inevitably ended up keeping him up at night. And when his thoughts weren't on the play they were all tangled up in Jared.

Danneel rolled her eyes. She'd been decidedly unsympathetic to all of Jensen's complaints ever since she'd walked in on him and Jared, which Jensen thought was a little mean of her. For one thing, she totally hadn't seen anything of any substance, and for another, he'd been nice to her even when she started getting some and it only seemed fair that she return the favor.

Jared was grinning widely at him, as if he were thinking something entirely different about why Jensen might be tossing and turning all night.

"Don't kid yourself, Padalecki," Jensen said before he could stop himself. "It's not your pretty face that keeps me up at night."

Jared's smirk widened and Jensen could have kicked himself. He'd basically just admitted that it was the thought of Jared keeping him up at him night.

"Oh, I won't lose any sleep one way or the other," Jared drawled. "But don't be ashamed. It's perfectly natural."

Jensen ignored him. There were only a handful of days until opening night, and he didn't have any time to lose. "Let's start from the top of Act IV, shall we?"

He watched Jared closely through rehearsal: the way he was moving, the way he was breathing. He was getting better and better, Jensen thought. Jensen could see Benedick more with each scene, each line. He didn't know what might have happened to make Jared lose it two days ago, and he was well aware that forcing Jared to remember that he knew how to push back through aggressive swordplay sex was, well, not exactly a standard technique. It wasn't a technique at all, in fact, except that it was what he thought Jared needed.

Luckily, it turned out he had some decent instincts. But it was a kind of scary line to be treading.

"Hey," Katie said on the way out of rehearsal. "We're gonna watch the finale of Last Frontier tonight at Jared's motel. If you're interested."

Jensen's immediate reaction was to cut his gaze toward Jared, who had his head bent towards Sandy and was smiling at whatever she was saying. He flicked his eyes over in Jensen's direction, though, as if he'd heard Katie's invitation. His expression was unreadable.

"Thanks," Jensen said slowly. "I'm -- I don't think I can make it. I've got lots of work to do still."

That was true. But Jensen couldn't tell from Jared's expression whether he was disappointed or not.

"Too bad, boss," Katie said, and her mouth was curved downwards disapprovingly. "But, hey, y'know, it starts at nine. If you change your mind."

Sandy threw him a dirty look. Jensen felt suddenly worse than pond scum.

"You're being an ass," Danneel said frankly. "It's getting to be an irritating pattern of behavior. I just thought you should know."

"I'm not here to make friends," Jensen said.

"Yeah," Danneel said sardonically. "Message received loud and clear."

Just before Jared headed out the door, Jensen said, "Hey!" When Jared turned around, he took a breath. He knew he could keep being the asshole, keep their relationship -- or whatever this was -- on the same road it had been on since the beginning. Push and pull, but no give and take. They'd both seemed pretty happy with that. The mind-blowing orgasms had been working pretty well so far.

But this, this felt like a step. An unalterable step in a direction Jensen had never ventured before. And he had never been on such unsteady ground.

"Uh, about tonight. I think -- I'd like to come. If you'll still have me. Have me over, I mean," he added quickly.

There was a flash of a smile on Jared's face. It wasn't one of the blazingly bright brain-melting smiles, but Jensen loved it all the better because it wasn't.

"The invite is still valid," he said.

Jensen held off until almost nine before he showed up.

He was surprised at how many people were crammed into Jared's small apartment. Most of the cast and the backstage crew were there, and Jensen lifted his hand in surprise when he saw Misha in a prime location on the couch. Misha winked at him.

All the good spots in front of the TV had been claimed, but Jared disappeared into his bedroom and came back holding a pillow that he'd obviously just taken from his bed. Jensen recognized it, in fact. Jared tossed it to him casually. "Pull up a spot of floor," he said.

"Shh!" Katie said. "It's starting!"

Jensen had seen most of the episodes of the show so he was more than able to follow what was going on. He'd even seen last week's cliffhanger episode, though he'd tried not to let that fact be known. He was pretty sure the cat was out of the bag on that one, though, because when Jared started to whisper, "See, we just found out he's carrying the mutant form of the virus, so --" Jensen had batted him away and hissed, "Shut up, I know, I'm watching."

Jared had shot him a smug-looking smile, which Jensen had steadfastly ignored.

Jared's character didn’t have a lot to do in the episode, although he did rescue his mentor from certain death when an unexpected breach in air pressure caused a lockdown in one of the staff quarters. They had a very genuine affecting heart-to-heart in the medical bay that had Sandy sniffling.

Several people screeched when the To Be Continued lit up the screen. Jensen let out the breath he was holding.

"Oh my God, that was just mean," Sandy said breathlessly. "Jared, can't you tell us anything about what happens next year?"

"For the last time, no way, sweetheart," Jared said, smiling. "You'll just have to watch and see."

They grilled Jared fruitlessly for several more minutes and then everyone's speculations began to run wild. In the ensuing hubbub, Jared turned to look at Jensen. The expression on his face wasn't expectant exactly, but there was a question there all the same, and Jensen had no idea how to answer it.

"Well," he said.

Jared's face twisted for a moment so brief that Jensen thought he'd imagined it, and then smoothed out into a self-effacing grin. "Yeah, ridiculous, I know. But did you like the moment I got to force open the air lock with my bare hands?"

Jensen paused. "That part was only a little bit unrealistic," he said slowly. "Very dramatic, though."

"That's the idea," Jared drawled. "So, was it all you dreamed of and more?"

Jensen was certainly not prepared to admit that it was the pinnacle of all that was great in art. Or even the pinnacle of television -- not that he watched a lot of television. But it was a medical-themed soap opera set in space, for God's sake.

But it was -- not bad. And he knew Jared was proud of it. He could see why Jared might be proud of it. It was --

Someone kicked over the bowl of popcorn, and in the ensuing chaos, Jensen said, quickly and lowly, "When you told her how much her mentorship meant to you, that was a good scene. You really nailed the tension between strength and vulnerability." He stopped for a minute and flicked a piece of popcorn out of Jared's hair. "A really good scene."

Jared didn't quite meet his eyes. Jensen couldn't tell in the flickering light of the TV whether his cheeks were flushed or not.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Someone kicked Jensen's side, and his head snapped up to catch Danneel's very innocent expression.

"I think I better get some sleep," Jensen said, unwilling to press any further at this strange footing. "Thanks for having everyone over."

If his voice quavered a little, he was definitely blaming that on the preceding week of general exhaustion.

His phone woke him two in the morning by playing TLC's "Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls."

"Ugh," Jensen said into it blearily.

"Hi." That was Danneel's voice. "I. Hey."

Jensen pulled himself together enough to register the way she sounded. "Are you drunk?" he said.

There was a pause. "No."

"You're never drunk."

Danneel laughed unsteadily. "Well, look at that! You're wrong."

Jensen sat upright in bed and peered at the clock. "This play has been hell on my sleep schedule," he said.

"You don't sleep."

"That's true. My heretofore secret vampiric tendencies are getting stronger."

Danneel didn't laugh. "Jensen," she said. "I --"

She stopped.

Jensen hated this question and usually avoided asking it, but he said, quietly, "What's wrong?"

"Gen is --" Jensen's stomach dropped at the catch in Danneel's voice. "I overheard something tonight. Something I wasn't supposed to hear. Well, obviously. I mean, of course I wasn't supposed to hear. I was eavesdropping."

"Danny. You're babbling."

She took a breath. "After the show, we went back to her place. She took a phone call in the kitchen. It was about the article she's writing. For the goddamn LA Times."

"Okay," Jensen said slowly, his brain not quite catching up. Danneel had known as well as he did that Gen still sometimes freelanced. It was a surprise that she was writing for the LA Times, but it wasn't a complete shock. "Uh, what?"

"It's about us. Particularly about Jared, obviously, but also about the play. And the Festival. And she -- she said we were passionless and out of touch." Jensen drew in a sharp breath. Passionless. Danneel's voice broke a little. "Then she turned around and saw me. And then she just looked -- guilty."

She made a little lost noise into the phone, and Jensen felt a curl of anger in his gut. She was softer than anything under her don't-fuck-with-me armor, and Jensen knew better than anyone how far she'd let Genevieve in.

"Jesus," Jensen whispered. "I'm coming up there."

She started to protest, but Jensen was already pulling on his jeans and stepping into his flip-flops. Danneel was in a dorm room just on the floor above him.

"I'm not getting off the phone till I get there," he said, and took the stairs two at a time.

When he reached her room, he pushed through the door and hugged her tight.

"I hate this," she said into his shoulder.

"Danny, you had to have heard wrong," he said. "You know Gen. Everything I know about Gen -- that's not who she is."

"I asked her!" Danneel spat out. "I fucking asked her. And she said she wasn't at liberty to talk about it, and then asked what I was doing listening to her calls anyway. She basically turned it around to put me on the defensive."

Jensen stroked her hair. If what Danneel heard was true, then -- then it meant Genevieve had used and manipulated all of them just to get a stupid story. A mean and vicious story at that.

And Jared, who was just starting to come to terms with how to play this character was going to be devastated.

"Then we yelled a lot," Danneel muttered into his shoulder. "I gave her every possible opening to explain and she didn't. It was like she -- like she didn't even want to try. Like I wasn't worth even trying."

Jensen murmured softly and held her when she started crying. He had a hard time believing Genevieve had faked every ounce of affection in her pretty brown eyes, and that they'd all fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Especially Danneel, who was not lacking in her own defenses.

But no matter kind of person she was and no matter the hell was in that fucking article, Jensen had never felt so furious in his life.

Act V

When Jared arrived for tech rehearsal, it was to find that the whole cast and crew had apparently decided overnight that they hated reporters in general and Gen Cortese in particular. It made Jared feel like he'd wandered into an alternate dimension or slept through a media disaster or something.

"I know she's writing an article," he said, baffled, when Katie reached out to comfort him. "She told me. She was hoping to pitch to the LA Times. She interviewed me three times."

"Well, this is no article," Sandy said. "It's a slimy exposé."

"Of what? That doesn't even make sense."

"You can't trust reporters, Jared," Aldis said.

Jared glared back at them. "Come on. Y'all met Gen, right?"

He called her twice, and sent her a what's going on? text. She didn't respond. Katie eyed him triumphantly as if, for example, a person forgetting to charge her phone were somehow proof of her guilt.

Danneel was pale, but was stubbornly composed. She opened her production binder calmly. Beside her, Jensen looked exhausted.

This tech rehearsal was even more long and miserable than Jared remembered tech rehearsals to be. Everyone was short-tempered and on edge. Jared couldn't even take a few minutes to get used to the feeling of actually being in the studio stage tent, with the lights and the finished props and the prospect of an audience in those very chairs the next night. He kept looking over at Jensen and Danneel who were bent over the production book a few rows back and checking his phone religiously.

"She betrayed you, too, Jared," Katie said, concerned. "You have to know the story's about you. She used you. She used Danneel."

"You don't know what the article says," Jared said stubbornly. "This is all based on hearsay --"

Danneel stood up, and they all fell silent. "I appreciate your support," she said, her voice even. It carried throughout the theater. "But this is not the place for this discussion. We've got a very long day ahead of us still. Maybe we could all show a little professionalism and let things be."

She sat down again, extraordinarily calm. Sandy looked stricken. Jared felt a little sick to his stomach. Danneel had been halfway in love with Genevieve, he knew, and to see her so -- when she thought that --

Except Jared refused to believe it was true just because of an apparently overheard phone conversation and a messy argument.

They all waited at their marks on the stage in silence, until Jensen and Danneel approved the lighting for the scene and they were released.

Jared locked himself in the bathroom stall and left another message on Genevieve's phone. When he came out, he stumbled into Jensen who was standing outside. Waiting for him, it seemed. There were bags under his eyes and his features looked sharp and haggard.

"Hey --" Jared said, and he wanted to reach out and tug Jensen into him, enfold him in his arms and hide them both away from everything.

But he stopped himself from reaching out when he saw the way Jensen's lips tightened and his posture shifted.

"Danneel may not say it's an issue," Jensen said, looking Jared in the eye. Jared's mouth went dry. "But the rest of us have chosen sides. Gen betrayed you too, Jared. Why the hell aren't you mad at her?"

Jared's heart was thumping so loudly, it was threatening to beat its way right out of his chest. "What the hell are you talking about?" he said, his voice crisp and sharp. "Innocent before proven guilty, yeah?"

Jensen didn't move an inch. Jared thought for a moment that he was going to apologize, although why after all this time he thought Jensen would be the forgiving kind of person, he wasn't exactly sure.

Jensen said, "I guess I was right about you the first time." He sounded tired.

"What?" Jared said, confused.

Jensen shrugged. "You're faithless," he said. "When your friends need you."

Jared's stomach felt hollow. "Maybe it hasn't occurred to you," he snapped, "that I'm being faithful to my friend Genevieve when no one else is. And it's pretty clear to me that you're the same as ever, too. So fucking superior. Sometimes I think you're not living your own life, Jensen, because you're too busy judging how everyone else lives theirs."

He turned away.

"Sure, walk away," he heard Jensen say behind him. "It's what you're good at."

Jared whirled around and came stalking back to Jensen. "I didn't just walk away from that play!" he snapped. "I had a contract. I showed you my contract!"

Jared glared at him, seething. Jensen fucking knew it was not as simple as walking away. When Jared had signed the contract there had been a comfortable buffer between the final night of The Importance of Being Earnest and filming the commercial in LA. But the construction of the new stage in the college theater had forced them delay their production for a week, then two, then three, and finally Jared had to leave if he didn't want to breach his contract.

Jensen's eyes were narrowed in anger and he opened his mouth to speak, but Jared didn't want to hear what he had to say. "You were the one who walked away from me," he said furiously. "You were my best friend, and you cut me out of your life so fast it made my head spin. You're a fucking bastard for doing that to me."

"You were giving up everything for a commercial! A dog food commercial!"

And there it was, Jared thought with sudden clarity. There it was. Jensen still didn't know a goddamn fucking thing about him.

"I wasn't giving up anything," he said. "It was what I wanted. You were the one who wanted Shakespeare and a live audience and a theater-with-a-capital-T. That was you, not me."

Jensen was breathing hard. He said, "Why'd you come here, then?"

And at that moment, Jared had no idea how to answer that.

Genevieve didn't call him back. Jared called his agent and left what he belatedly realized was probably a very confusing message about phantom articles and small town reporters and people who didn't know what the word faithful meant, anyway.

He burnt some of the excess frustration and energy on a run. When he stumbled out of the shower afterwards, exhausted but still unable to keep his mind from racing in all directions, Gen had texted him.

Sorry you're in the middle of this. Look for the article on Friday.

Friday was opening night. Jared threw his phone across the room. "What the fuck," he growled. "Just what the fucking fuck does that mean."

No one answered, of course, and for the first time since he'd arrived in Aldersen, Jared felt really alone.

On Thursday, they had dress rehearsal in the afternoon and a preview performance that night. Jared was barely able to eat anything for breakfast, anxiety and trepidation curdling in his gut. He was almost embarrassed for being so worried about a preview show.

Until he stepped off the stage when the performance was over, lackluster applause ringing in his ears, and felt sick to his stomach.

He couldn't even fool himself that it had been an okay performance. It had been flat-out painful. Missed cues, wrong lines, props failing. And worst of all, a complete lack of real spark or emotion between any of them. The audience had barely managed a round of polite applause.

The first one to find Jared in the section of the tent they'd blocked off for his dressing room was Katie.

"Hey," she said. Her voice was low and little cautious.

"Hi," he said flatly.

"You're thinking too hard," she said. "You've gotta relax. It's not as bad as you think."

"Yeah," he said dully.

"Do you want to maybe --"

Someone cleared his throat in the doorway. It was Jensen. He met Jared's eyes for the first time since their conversation in the bathroom.

"Can you give us a minute?"

Katie nodded. She gave Jared's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"C'mon," Jensen said. "I've got something to show you."

Jared followed him. They went out of the tents and across the road to the college administration building. Jared wasn't sure where they were going and he was still angry, but he followed anyway, the horrifying performance he'd just given making him desperate for help from any quarter. So he didn't say a word and Jensen led him past the Festival's offices and up to the fourth floor of the college until they opened a door and stepped out into the open air on the roof.

The air was still full of the day's heat, even though the sun had set and the stars were out. Spread out below them was the Festival. The white domed tents were still illuminated, warm lights spilling across the grass. They could hear the chatter and laughter of the audience filing out.

"Wow," Jared said softly.

"Misha showed me this," Jensen said. "He went to college here."

"It doesn't look so bad from up here," Jared said.

"It's not as bad as you think from down there, either."

Jared didn't look at him. He thought he could pick out Aldis down below, no longer in costume, talking to a group of people.

"You know, I was pissed at you for a really long time," Jensen said.

That did make Jared look up. "We're gonna talk about that now?" he said.

Jensen shot him a look. "I was pissed cause I thought that what was important to me was important to you, and when it turned out I was wrong --"

Jared felt anger flare up in his chest. "If you hadn't --"

"No, listen!" Jensen snapped. "Listen. I was pissed at you for abandoning us on Earnest. And I was pissed at you for not telling me about that stupid commercial."

If this was an apology, Jensen sucked at them. Jared glared at him, and then looked back out over the tents of the Festival. "I didn't tell you about that because you would've hated it," he said through clenched teeth. "You would've given me your whole 'the Hollywood machine is evil and doesn't respect true talent' speech. And I'd heard it all before."

"I know that now," Jensen said. "Back then it just felt like a betrayal. Like you couldn't wait to leave. And when you walked out on us --"

"For fuck's sake! How many times do I -- I had a contract."

"I know," Jensen said. His voice was weirdly gentle.

"Once you sign one of those things you can't get out of it. Except by dying."

"I know."

Jared stood quietly for a moment. "I was pissed at you, too," he said. "I was pissed that you thought taking an audition for a soap meant I was selling out. And that somehow that meant I wasn't good enough to be your friend anymore."

He heard Jensen suck in a breath. "You've always been good enough." He paused. "I wasn't a good friend. I'm an asshole sometimes."

"You cut me out so fast, I --" Jared took a breath. "It was like you stopped believing in my existence. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to keep trying to get into movies, cause I'd always wanted that -- but I didn't want to lose you."

"I'm glad you didn't give up on that," Jensen said. "Because you're really good at what you do. And you are really good at this, too."

Jared shook his head. "Standing on top of a roof? Yeah, I win awards for that shit."

"Theater, you idiot. I saw it years ago, and before all this -- this stuff happened this week, I've been seeing it in rehearsals. You are good, and you have the potential to be great."

Jared stared at him for a long moment. "You do realize that is the exact opposite thing that everyone expects Genevieve to write about me."

That hung in the air for a moment and then Jensen audibly let out his breath.

"I get it," Jared continued doggedly. "It's easy to believe she's writing a horrible article about me because it's easy to see that I don't belong here. It's --"

"Fuck Genevieve," Jensen interrupted. "Fuck everybody. I know you. I know how much passion you have. I know how much talent you have. You know the lines, you know the part."

Jared's heart felt lodged in his throat. "I don't -- What if I screw up again? Tonight was --"

"I know you know that I didn't originally choose you for this part," Jensen started, and Jared bit back a hysterical laugh. Yeah, that had been pretty goddamn obvious. "But after working with you this month and after seeing you work with this cast, I would not have it any other way. D'you hear me?" he said emphatically. "I mean this. You are my Benedick."

Jared met Jensen's eyes, and felt his throat close up. He wasn't fully prepared to poke at the flurry of new and fragile emotions welling up inside him, but it was -- good.

"Katie'll fight you for me," he said, smiling weakly.

Jensen shook his head, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. He reached out gently to cup Jared's cheek and Jared realized abruptly that it was the first time they'd touched one another since they'd heard about the stupid article. Jensen's fingers were warm and Jared wanted to curl into him.

"C'mon," Jensen said. "Let's go downstairs. Opening night's tomorrow."

Jared went home and slept. He'd avoided checking his phone for the remainder of the night, which was why it wasn't until mid-morning that Chad got hold of him.

"Man, you didn't tell me you were gonna be in the newspaper!"

Jared hadn't ever thought of Chad as someone who read the paper. "What?"

"You were in the LA Times this morning! There was a picture and everything."

Jared felt his stomach drop unexpectedly. The article. Friday. He scrambled for his laptop. "Hey," he said. "Is it -- okay?"

"Well, you could rethink your sideburns," Chad said. "They're getting a little out of control."

Jared hissed. "I don't mean the picture. I mean the article."

"Oh. Yeah, it's cool. And hey, the Shakespeare stuff actually sounds okay."

Jared ignored his email, which seemed to be on red alert, and went to the LA Times website. The article wasn't on the main page, but he found it under 'Arts and Culture': "Much Ado About Padalecki."

He stared at it for a moment.

"Thanks, Chad. I've gotta go," he said. "But hey, let me know if you wanna see the show. I'll hook you up with tickets."

Jared started reading, and twenty minutes later he was banging on the door to Danneel's room.

When no one answered, he took a few minutes to catch his breath. His phone had been going silently crazy all morning, and his email really was horrifying. He scanned through to see if there was anything he needed to deal with immediately. His agent, his publicist, his friends, his coworkers. He skipped those.

His mom had sent a text that just read: Congratulations! We're proud of you. See you tonight.

And there was an email from Genevieve with a link to the article. All it said was: I'm sorry you got caught in this shitstorm. xo

Jared called her, still standing in the hallway of the dorm buildings. She actually picked up, which surprised him so much he almost didn't say a word.

"Hi," she said. "I take it you read it."

"Yeah, I did. Thanks for the link."

"Jared, listen," she said, all in a rush. "I'm sorry you were put in the middle of al my personal business. And I never meant for you to feel like I was taking advantage of our friendship."

"I -- " Jared fumbled for a moment. "Having you as a friend here meant a lot to me. It made things feel a little more like home."

He could hear the relieved smile in her voice. "I'm glad," she said softly.

"So -- I gotta ask," Jared said. "Danneel."

Gen sucked in her breath. "I dunno that I want to talk about that," she said. "I'm kind of, um, fragile. Emotionally."

"She heard you say we were passionless on the phone."

"She did?" Gen sounded shocked. "Oh. What? That was -- I was talking about the perception of Shakespeare in popular culture."

Jared let out a long, relieved laugh. "Oh my god," he said.

"Did -- is that why she --" She took a deep breath. "Has the rest of the cast seen it?"

Jared glanced at Danneel's closed door. "As soon as I can force it down their throats," he said.

"Right," she said. "Tell her -- tell them they can phone me if they want to. I'll answer anyone's questions. And I'd like to apologize."

"You should come to the cast party tonight," Jared said immediately.

"Ah, no," Genevieve said awkwardly. "I don't think that's a great idea."

"Just you wait," Jared promised.

Katie was the first person he found at the theater. She and Misha were doing yoga on the grass near the gates to the tents. Misha was in a remarkably bendy position for a person still in a full thigh-to-ankle cast.

"Where's the fire?" Misha said.

"Did you read it?" Jared panted to Katie.

Her face clouded over. "No," she said shortly. "And I'd rather stay in the dark on this one."

"I think you really wouldn't," Jared said. "Where's Danneel?"

"Did you read it?" Misha said.

Katie sat up straighter. "No way," she said. "Don't show that to Danny. She's already had her heart broken."

"Shut up," Jared said, "and read it."

He shoved his phone in Katie's face. Misha craned his neck to read over her shoulder.

A few minutes later, Katie said. "Wait. This is --"

"Well," Misha said. "I always knew I liked that Genevieve. Deep eyes, good soul."

"That support would've been helpful a few days ago when everyone hated her guts," Jared said pointedly.

Misha smiled at him beatifically.

They found Danneel and Jensen having lunch. It took Jared several minutes to convince Danneel to even look at the phone, and that was after he'd made Misha distract Jensen and his stubborn blockade.

"I talked to her this morning," Jared said. "She asked you to call her."

Katie's face lit up with delighted glee. "She is totally into you still! Call her right now."

"Strike while the iron is hot," Misha agreed.

Danneel's expression was caught somewhere between hopeful and guilty. "I -- don't know if I can. I kind of said some unforgiveable things."

Jensen was still furiously reading on Jared's phone. "Don't be an ass," he said without looking up. "She wants you to call her. Apologize, then she'll apologize, and then you can have make-up sex."

Danneel frowned at him.

Katie poked her in the arm. "Call her!"

"All right!" Danneel said. "Okay, I'll call her."

She disappeared into the nearby bathroom, and they all waited uneasily around the table. Jensen shot Jared an indecipherable look, eyes dark, and he handed Jared his phone back. Jared half-expected him to make a comment about Jared keeping a Google alert out on his own name or something, but Jensen didn't say a word.

Katie kept bouncing on the heels of her feet in excitement, and finally Misha had to put a hand on her arm to calm her down.

When Danneel came out fifteen minutes later, she had a slightly dopey smile on her face, and Katie let out a squeak before clapping her hand over her mouth. Jared knew the feeling. He thought the grin on his own face was probably big enough to split him open, intense relief and giddy delight spiraling through him in equal measure.

"It's not all resolved or anything," Danneel cautioned. "She said she'd come to the party, that's all."

Jensen stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, and Jared felt his heart skip a little.

"Thank you," Danneel said to Jared over Jensen's shoulder. "I'm so sorry you were in the middle of this, but honestly -- thank you."

Jared nodded. That was a good place to start. "I'm so happy for you guys," he said.

Misha nodded happily, and Katie squeaked wordlessly again with glee.

"I'm starting to think y'all are unnaturally invested in this relationship," Danneel said, but she was smiling and Jared thought that was the greatest thing he'd seen in days.

"Strike up, pipers!" Jared said, the final line of the play, and with that, he swung Katie into their last dance across the stage, a long joyful sweep back and forth, interweaving with the other couples before they danced off stage left.

Jared was panting, but there was a huge grin on his face. He felt almost loopy. They'd actually done it. Katie was wearing a similar expression, and she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Oh my God," she said, her whole body vibrating. "Jared."

Jared laughed and hugged her again.

He realized belatedly that the white noise on the edge of his hearing was the applause of the crowd. Then the assistant stage manager was pushing them back onstage for their cue to take a bow.

They went on again for a second bow, and Jared couldn't keep what he suspected was a half-dazed, half-amazed grin off his face.

"Thank you," he whispered into Katie's ear when they stumbled backstage again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She pushed back to look him in the eye, laughing a little. "For what, you diva?"

"For believing in me," Jared said.

Her grin softened. "Well, you were worth it," she said.

"Ditto," he said.

Aldis threw his arms around both of them then, and most of the rest of the cast were just behind him. They all stumbled their way out of the backstage area to the green room and dressing rooms, high on endorphins and adrenaline, chattering and laughing and gasping. Jared was in front so he was the first one to see Jensen, running towards them with a euphoric grin on his face. He practically crashed into them, his arms stretching out to try in vain to encircle all of them, and the whole cast swayed together for a chaotic joyous moment in a huge group hug.

When they broke apart, Jared sought out Jensen, and when their gazes met,
Jared's breath caught in his throat. Jensen smiled at him, murmured, "I know you could do it," and pulled him down to kiss him in front of everyone.

They were still surrounded by the whole cast and Jared caught a few elbows in the ribs as they stood there kissing, but he barely felt them. When they broke apart, both gasping a little, everyone around them was whistling and grinning.

Jared's smile felt a little giddy. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Jensen said. "You were amazing. Did I say you were amazing?" He broke his eyes away from Jared's and said to the cast: "You were all amazing. I can't even express how incredible a performance that was from each and every one of you. The audience loved you. I loved you."

Jared's throat constricted, just a little. He tightened his hand around Jensen's. "Hey, c'mon," he said. "You must be counting some of that applause for yourself."

People were thinning out around them, laughing and smiling, heading for dressing rooms and family members and much-needed drinks. Jensen said, quieter, "Not as much as you might think." Then he smiled at Jared, his eyes crinkling softly in the corners. "Hey, get changed. We have a party to get to."

Jared couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged so many people in one night. He ate appetizers with the stagehands and the lighting tech, and traded tales of 1930s Hollywood scandals for theater ghost stories. He hugged Misha's wife and Katie's long-distance boyfriend. He met Jensen's parents, and introduced his own to Jensen. He caught Sandy and Aldis making out in the kitchen. He smoked half a celebratory cigar with Samantha on the porch, and then quoted classic Brando lines back and forth with Mark for half an hour before he had to admit defeat.

Genevieve showed up, as Jared knew she would. She hugged him, too, whispering, "I love you," in his ear. She and Danneel sat together and talked quietly on the porch for a long time, and when they left soon afterwards, still together, Jared figured that was a very good thing.

It had been an exhilarating and exhausting day. Jared felt like eons had passed since he woke up that morning.

There was still a thrum under his skin. A buzzing awareness of Jensen's body, even when he was on the other side of the room, everything from the quirk of his smile to the line of his shoulders. Jared wanted, and deep in his chest he knew Jensen was feeling the same thing. Their orbits drew closer and closer together as the night went on, and in the end all it took was Jared to drop a low dirty drawl in Jensen's ear, and the two of them were out the door, ignoring both the catcalls and the advice.

Making their way back to Jared's small apartment felt strangely like stepping back in time: the two of them walking across a college campus after a play in the dark. They'd done that together more than a few times.

Of course, the way they were barely able to keep their hands to themselves was something new.

They were both part of the way to drunk, but were mostly just high on the performance. Every time Jared shot a glance at Jensen, they ended up grinning at one another, laughter spilling out whether they wanted it to or not.

When Jared finally pulled open his door, they half-pushed half-shoved each other inside, and in less than a minute, Jared had Jensen pinned against the wall, his hand massaging Jensen's dick through his pants and his tongue down Jensen's throat.

Jared could feel everything with crystal clarity. The roughness of Jensen's jeans on the heel of his hand. The warmth of his body pressed long and hard against Jared's. The rasp of stubble on Jensen's cheek. The ticklish puff of his breath on Jared's fevered skin.

"Fuck," Jared muttered. "Bedroom."

Jensen nodded jerkily and they fell over one another to get to Jared's room, shedding clothes and shoes on the way. Jensen fell backwards onto the bed like a dream, and Jared followed him easily. Jensen's skin was smooth and hot under Jared's hands, and Jared couldn’t stop himself from touching and stroking every inch he could reach. He pressed his nose to Jensen's throat and licked at the dip of Jensen's collarbone and kissed across the muscles of his arms. He rubbed the hard peak of Jensen's nipple and smoothed his hand over the curve of his ribs. When his hands ventured further down, to Jensen's hips, to his inner thighs, to curl under his ass, Jensen let out a strangled moan and gripped Jared's shoulders so hard Jared knew there would be bruises in the morning.

"Fuck," Jensen gasped out. "Oh my God, fuck me."

Yeah, yeah, Jared could get behind that. He scrambled for condom and lube in the drawer beside the bed so fast he almost slammed his head against the headboard. Jensen was laughing at him a little for that, but he was reaching down between his own legs at the same time, his finger rubbing gently at his hole. Jared felt his jaw drop open at the picture he made. Jensen held his other hand out impatiently. "Lube," he said, and Jared obediently popped the lid and poured it over Jensen's fingers and his own.

Jensen pushed his own finger inside first, his hips tilted up and his legs spread impossibly wide. Jared heard himself let out a whine, and while Jensen was smirking at that, said in a low voice, "Can I?"

Jensen nodded wide-eyed, and Jared slipped his wet fingertip inside, snugged tight against Jensen's. Jensen's thighs trembled and he arched into that gentle pressure as easy as anything.

"Shit, you're so hot," Jared muttered.

Jensen let out a guttural laugh. "Your lines still need work, Padalecki," he said.

Jared looked up to meet Jensen's eyes, and then deliberately crooked his finger inside Jensen. "Think they're workin' pretty good," he murmured.

Jensen jerked and groaned, fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Let's hear what you've got," Jared added, and he crawled up Jensen's body to lick the curve of his mouth. "Throw your best lines at me."

"What do I need lines for?" Jensen asked breathlessly. "You're pretty easy."

"Ha," Jared said, biting at his mouth. "You don’t have any game. Own it."

Jensen shook his head.

Jared grinned and slid his finger out, and then Jensen's, placing Jensen's hand gently on his own stomach. He fumbled with the condom, his dick hot and hard in his own hand. His skin felt strung tight, stretched full of the whole glorious evening, energy and engagement and applause and hugs and alcohol and lust. He wanted to push inside Jensen and tie them together in that feeling forever.

His mouth was hovering over Jensen's, his fingers holding the condom at the base of his dick, when Jensen stopped his mouth with a quick kiss and said, gently, "'I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is that not strange?'"

Jared's heart slammed into his ribs at the familiar quoted words. He'd said them tonight to Katie. They felt so instinctual to him by now that it took him a moment to comprehend what Jensen was saying. But saying that line and looking into Katie's brilliant blue eyes in front of a theater full of people was nothing like this. This was Jensen and their entire history strung out between them, messy and complicated and imperfect, and Jensen was asking for a hell of a lot more than sex.

"I live in LA," Jared said, a little dumbly. "And you live in Austin."

"So there's a bit of distance."

"And I'm still going to work in TV," he added. "Which you hate. You know I love my job. You haven't converted me back to theater exclusively or anything."

"Oh believe me, I wouldn't dream of standing in the way of the world seeing your abs as often as possible," Jensen said, rolling his eyes. He ran his fingers along the sides of Jared's ribs. "It's just -- you --"

He stopped and looked up at Jared helplessly.

"Okay," Jared said. "Okay."

He leaned down and kissed Jensen, their tongues in each other's mouths. Jared fit his cock blindly to Jensen's hole, and just as he bit down on Jensen's lower lip, he pushed. Jensen gasped and squirmed underneath him, and so Jared shoved hard, all the way in, hot, tight, perfect.

Jensen's legs came up and around Jared's waist, his feet digging deep into the back of Jared's thighs. He pressed up desperately, his head thrown back and his spine arching. Jared wanted everything he was offering, and he gave everything back, fucking hard and deep into Jensen's body and wrapping his palm around Jensen's thick cock.

It didn't take Jensen long to convulse around him, sweet hot pressure on Jared's cock. Jensen moaned brokenly, and stroked Jensen's dick, pulling the last few strings of come out of him.

He felt his own orgasm only a few deep strokes later, his balls drawing up tight and nerves trembling up his spine as his hips stuttered against Jensen's, fast and desperate.

They were quiet for a long moment before Jared carefully pulled away. He flopped down on his back found himself grinning dazedly up at the ceiling in the dark, Jensen's body a warmth length along his side.

"Okay," Jared admitted. "That was a good line."

Jensen let out a laugh. "I knew you were a slut for Shakespeare."

There was a tartness to the words, but there was something warmth in Jensen's voice, too, that wriggled its way straight into Jared's heart.

It wasn't his line, but he knew Beatrice's reply anyway. He said, with his heart thumping in his chest and a feeling in his gut like he was about to step off the edge of a cliff: "'I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.'"

At that, Jensen rolled over onto his side, propped up his head, and smiled at him. He still looked slightly dazed from orgasm, hair messy and face flushed, and when he spoke, his voice sounded deep and sex-rough and it made Jared shiver. "Glad to hear it," Jensen said. "Now, excuse me, but I'd like to have my way with you."

Jared snorted. "What do you call what just happened?"

Jensen grinned. "Foreplay?"

"Fuck you," Jared said, laughing. "And anyway, you're not going to get your way with me if I get my way with you first."

"Maybe we'll have to do it twice."

"You've confused me, now," Jared said, grinning. "Is that three times?"

"Well, if you can't handle it --" Jensen started.

Jared caught Jensen's fingers with his and kissed his knuckles. "Sounds like a plan," he said.

♥ The End ♥