raeschae | Nachos and Forever (Non-AU, PG, 1/1)

Title: Nachos and Forever
Author:

raeschae
Beta:

neutraldeviance
Rating: PG
Pairings: Jared/Jensen
Summary: Sometimes you come to the most monumental realizations at the most insignificant moments.
Word Count: 1700 +

Jensen kind of always thought that figuring out he was going to spend forever with someone would be a big deal. That it would smack him in the head like a bolt of lightning and send him hurtling to his ass. Leave him sprawled out across the floor or something. He thought it would be spectacular, like the sky would open up and he would see a great light and hear the Hallelujah Chorus. He thought that everyone around him would recognize it because, well, it would be impossible not to.

Of course, he's never told anyone that because, well, he's a guy. From the reddest of the red states. With friends who shoot each other in the ass with BB guns for fun. And a brother who still affectionately refers to him as 'Kid Sister' even though they're adults and it's just stupidly immature now. Also, he's not insane.

Still, it's hard to hide his disappointment when the moment descends, and Jensen finds himself still sitting firmly on a bar stool. There's no back-lighting or special music. Nobody else in the room so much as flinches. Turns out, being ass-backwards in love is kind of disappointing.

It's become somewhat of a tradition, over the last five years, that the director springs for drinks at the end of a particularly difficult week of shooting. Kim started it back in season one and others, like Phil and Steve, picked up the ball and ran with it from there. It's not particularly formal, just whoever feels like meeting up, and Jensen thinks it's probably the reason they're all as close as they are now. Because Kim knew what he was doing when he took a bunch of ragtag kids stuck in Canada for the winter under his wing and brought them together over beer and chicken wings.

On this particular night, they're sitting at a table with Phil and a couple of PA's, eating and drinking and making general merriment. Whatever the hell that means. Jensen is snacking on peanuts because it's two in the morning and he doesn't feel like devouring an entire plate of nachos, no matter how many times Jared tries to tell him that they're 'delicious' and 'orgasmic.' Even when Jared makes his 'I could come right here in my pants, these are so good' face, Jensen doesn't take the bait.

Which of course, to Jared, apparently makes him a giant girl. "Come on, Jen," he teases, mouth full of tortilla chips, cheese sauce, and what appears to be Alpo. "How 'bout you stop worryin' about your feminine figure for a night and help me finish these off?"

"Help you?" Jensen asks, eyebrow shooting up to his hairline. "You don't need help finishing a plate of nachos, Jay," he reminds the kid, as though he's had more than a beer and a half and maybe forgot that he's usually helping Jensen finish his dinner, not the other way around.

Jared just nods and shovels another enormous bite into his mouth. And okay, so maybe Jensen does think a little bit about how eating after seven in the evening leads to more time in the gym these days, and it occurs to him, on occasion, that it's been a little harder to maintain his 'leading man' body in the last couple of years. But that doesn't mean that he worries about it.

"Oh, whatever," Jared rolls his eyes and Jensen could have sworn he didn't say that out loud. Of course, the alternative is that Jared can now read his mind, which is so not okay on so many levels that Jensen grabs three nachos at once and shovels them into his mouth just to keep from considering the possibilities. "See? Awesome, right?"

It tastes a little like stale cardboard covered in a waxy cheese substitute and chili sauce, but Jensen doesn't want to seem even more like a diva, so he just smiles around the lump on his tongue and forces it down his throat. "Yeah. Awesome," he chokes, raising his beer and taking a long pull to wash the foul taste from his mouth.

They talk about upcoming holidays and a bunch of nothing else at all, and then a guy in the tightest tee shirt Jensen's ever seen on a man walks past the table and one of the PA's says something about an article he read on pectoral implants. Apparently, they're the preferred plastic surgery for men these days, and Jensen figures he reclaims some of his masculinity by virtue of the fact that he's never even heard of such a thing. Jared, however, seems intrigued by the concept.

"See, this is what I don't understand," he begins, and Jensen can't help noticing the way a few lighting guys from the next table turn to hear as well.

This always happens with Jared. When he holds court, everyone sits in rapt attention. Jensen would scoff and tell them that Jared rarely has anything that interesting to say, except then he might miss part of Jared's story, and he's not so much willing to do that. Because pretty much everything Jared says is exactly that interesting.

"For girls, I get it, right? I mean, they can't exactly work for bigger boobs. Either they have 'em or they don't, right? But for a guy? That's some lazy shit, man. It's just muscle. Get your ass in a gym and work it out. Same thing with those calf implants. You seen those? Fuckin' bull shit's what it is," he shakes his head and tilts his bottle to his lips like it's the most ridiculous concept he's ever heard.

Jensen doesn't mean to be argumentative, but everybody's kinda nodding at Jared like they think he's a motherfucking genius. And he's really not. "What about cancer?" Jared's eyebrow quirks. "Dudes get breast cancer, too, ya know? In your world without male implants, they just what? Gotta deal?"

"You know that's not what I'm talkin' about. That's . . . I mean, it's cosmetic, but it's not, like, a choice. It's not something they do because they just want a broader chest without the work."

It's a valid point. And Jensen's not one to keep fighting, er, debating when he knows that Jared's just going to look like the winner. So instead he says, "Not everybody can be naturally built like a brick shit house, Jay," and he hopes it doesn't come off sounding bitter. He quite likes that Jared is built like a brick shit house, thank you very much.

"Dude, I'm not naturally built like a brick shit house. I have to work at this shit. That's all I'm sayin'. If there's a reason for it, some shit you can't help, fine. Otherwise . . ."

He trails off, and someone else picks up the conversation, so Jensen kind of tunes out.

Jared works hard for his body, and Jensen's not begrudging him that. He would point that out, but then Jared's hand finds the inside of his thigh under the table and he pretty much forgets what they were talking about all together. Of course, that's not entirely unusual when Jared's around. Jensen kind of finds it hard to concentrate on anything else when Jared is this close. On set, in a bar, at home . . . it doesn't seem to matter to Jensen's brain, which is not so unlike Jared's dogs in the way that it bounces up and down and chants 'Jared, Jared, Jared' until it gets a little bit of attention.

When he does check back into the conversation at hand, Jared is arguing his point with one of the girls from the wardrobe department, who is insisting that plastic surgery wouldn't be necessary if we didn't live in such an appearance-driven society. Jensen kind of agrees, but keeps his mouth shut on the grounds that, once again, he's pretty sure he'll sound like a bitchy diva if he says anything.

"People are too fuckin' shallow is all I'm sayin'," she concludes.

Placing his bottle firmly on the table with his free hand, Jared leans back in his chair, which effectively drags his fingers all the way up Jensen's thigh. He has to know that his knuckles are grazing Jensen's cock every time he flexes his hand. Otherwise, why in the hell would he be flexing his hand against Jensen's thigh. Oh, this is not fair. Not fair at all.

"Wait," Jared says to the girl from wardrobe, who's name Jensen knows, but really can't remember because Jared is practically fondling him in public. Their co-workers know that they've been dating for the better part of four years now, but nobody else in the bar does. Jensen doesn't think they so much need to, either. In his neurotic paranoia, he almost misses Jared saying, "So you think I'm shallow? Because I like knowing that I have a good body? And I like that he does?" he nods in Jensen's general direction.

Jared presents his argument like a kid who grew up with debate training. Jensen hears 'body' and 'boyfriend' and 'naked' and realizes that he's sort of becoming evidence for the defense. Shaking his head, he blurts out, "But that's not the only thing that matters."

Everyone kind of looks at him like they forgot he was there, what with the sitting back and quietly being stroked under the table and all. But now that he's made his presence known, he figures he might as well keep talking. Actually, he doesn't decide as much as his mouth just keeps moving. Whatever.

"I think that's what Maggie's saying anyway," he looks toward Maggie, now that his brain has caught up with the other kids and he can actually remember her name, and she nods. "I mean, you're not gonna look like that when you're sixty."

And that's when it happens. When it occurs to Jensen that he's still planning on being in love with Jared when he's sixty, and not built like he is now. That's when Jensen realizes that he's found the person that he's going to spend the rest of his life with, and he's still sitting here while everyone keeps talking about cosmetic surgery like Jensen's life hasn't completely changed in every possible way. The lighting is still dim, the bar is still smoky, and the only angel singing in the background is Lady Gaga. He's pretty sure 'Paparazzi' is not a song the heavenly choruses sing on a regular basis, so it's not at all like he thought the moment would be.

But when Jared concedes Jensen's winning argument with one of those blinding white smiles, and an extra squeeze of his hand against Jensen's thigh, he can't seem to care. So maybe it's not perfect, but it's something. It's Jared, and it's his life, and it's forever.

Scratch that. It is perfect.