My Name Is Trouble 1/3

[longsufferingly]

Jensen stares at his open e-mail, feeling like it might actually be staring back. And contemplating leaping out of his computer to kill him. Somehow.

Michael Cassidy is having a party.

Jensen has never been close with Cassidy--they shared a network for a couple years, have some friends in common, but they're not even Christmas card friends. Not that Jensen sends many Christmas cards, but whatever. Cassidy is inviting him to a party anyway because--Jensen doesn't even know.

Well, he knows. It's the "We Love the Double O's: CW Reunion Party," and he was on the CW. And there's something appealing there, he has to admit. Jensen doesn't really look back fondly on being on the CW specifically, but he looks back on--well, it wasn't bad. That time in his life.

He RSVPs without examining why too closely, figuring that there were some cool people around back then. Figuring, well, why not?

The night of, he comes up with about a billion reasons why not. At the top of the list is that he kind of hates parties. He tells himself that it's not that he's getting old; he's not even forty, for god's sake. And he's not tired. He's just not really into lots of people, lots of drinking. He doesn't want to party like it's 2009 or whatever. He barely wanted to party like that when it was 2009, and back then he had Jared to make him do shit he didn't want to do.

He swallows past the thought of Jared, because Jared is in New York, and even if Cassidy got a current e-mail address to send the invitation to, it's not like Jared would come down to Los Angeles for one stupid party. Not today's Jared, anyway. He's busy being a teacher and having a real life; he has responsibilities, or something. So Jensen is lead to believe.

He's almost talked himself into skipping out when his phone rings.

He glances at the caller ID and grins. "What do you want, Rosenbaum?"

"I don't want your stupid ass to ditch this party," Mike shoots back easily. "Cuz I know you're thinking about it."

"Fuck you," says Jensen. "I was just getting my shoes on."

"Were you trying to figure out which pair matched your blazer? Gaywad."

"They all match," says Jensen. "I'm amazingly coordinated." He pauses. "You already there?"

"Yeah."

"How is it?"

"Tommy's drunk and puking on Allie's shoes. Just like old times."

Jensen thinks about old times and doubts it. "I'll be over in half an hour," he says, hanging up.

It ends up being forty minutes, but he figures Mike will be drunk enough not to care.

He and Mike aren't close, exactly. Jensen honestly isn't sure he's close to anyone these days. There's Clif, yeah, but much as he likes Clif, he's still a bodyguard and driver. It's sad if Clif is his closest friend. But he still likes Mike, and sees more of him than Tom, although he's never been sure why. Maybe it's just the cycle of Hollywood--Mike took his break while Jensen was still on Supernatural, and Tom took one after, so Mike and Jensen were both working hard and getting roles while Tom was spending time with his wife and having a kid and stuff.

He finds himself scanning the room, telling himself it's for Mike but knowing that he's looking for someone taller, broader--Jared, of course. And of course, he's not there. Jensen didn't really think.

But he's disappointed all the same.

*

Jared rubs his temples, sighs. He hates his AP Physics class. It's April, and everyone who's going to college is already accepted; they're coasting on fumes and apathy. Honestly, he thinks they should probably just let them graduate as soon as colleges send out their decisions. Even the really nerdy ones are giving into peer pressure and, Jared's pretty sure, getting drunk before class. Maybe even during class.

Grading correct tests is easy and requires pretty much no thought on his part. Grading half-assed ones is a pain and a disappointment.

He glances up and sees his computer on his desk, his e-mail open. He doesn't know why he left it there; he's not going to the CW party thing. Clearly he's not. If he was, he wouldn't be sitting at home grading on a Saturday night. He used to be a TV star, seriously.

His head thunks down on the table. He doesn't want to be at a Hollywood party, he doesn't. He doesn't even know why he got invited. Well, okay, he does--he was on the CW in the 2000s. But seriously. He's retired.

He hears the door open and scrambles to close his e-mail. He hasn't mentioned the party to Greg; it just hasn't seemed--well, it's not a big deal. He's not going. It doesn't matter.

"Hey," says Greg, coming in with groceries. "How'd I know you'd be home?"

"My inherent loserness," says Jared, grinning. "This is your idea of a hot date night? Groceries?"

"I know you need food," says Greg, leaning down to kiss him. "I was here yesterday, remember?"

"I could have shopped."

"You didn't," says Greg, unloading stuff into the fridge. "And you owe me thirty bucks."

"Can I pay you with sex? They don't pay us physics teachers much."

"You were a TV star, you've got tons of money."

"Fine, we won't have sex. Your loss."

Greg snorts. "How's the grading?"

"Shitty. I hate seniors."

"God, I know. Speaking of, mine want us to watch that Gatsby miniseries instead of reading the book."

"I don't care how good Jensen was in it, there is no replacement for reading that book," says Jared, as easily as he can.

It's always been sort of hard to not call Jensen. Just, in the back of his head, there's this niggling feeling when something big happens that he should be talking to Jensen about it, and he's not. But when Jensen was filming that Gatsby thing a couple years ago, Jared's hand twitched to the phone all the time. He just didn't know what to say. If it could really be as easy as, "Douchebag, I can't believe you're playing Nick. Couldn't even land the man himself?"

It probably could have been.

"You okay?" asks Greg.

Jared sighs. "Yeah, just tired. I've got to hit campus tomorrow."

"You want me to leave?"

Jared grins, mostly meaning it. "Nah, it's fine. Stick around. I kind of like you, you know."

Greg rolls his eyes. "I had no idea."

Jared manages to distract himself pretty well from the grading, but the party never totally leaves his mind.

If it could be as easy as an e-mail: "hey, man, you go to the party? sounded lame."

*

Jensen hasn't seen Mike in at least a year, but Mike gives him a huge hug anyway, like no time's passed at all.

Jensen wishes it was always like that.

"Man, so glad you came. Or I'd owe Tommy fifty bucks."

"You bet Tom I'd show up?"

"You're a hermit, my man," says Mike. "When's the last time I even saw you?"

"I work a lot," Jensen says.

"Not as much as you did on Supernatural," says Mike, "and then I saw you every week."

"We were desperate," says Jensen. "There was no one to hang out with in Canada. Besides," he adds, elbowing Mike in the ribs, "you're always off doing big-name movies."

Mike laughs. "Don't hate me for being beautiful."

Jensen can't resist a set-up like that. "Dude, I hate you for so many other reasons."

Mike laughs and slings his arm around Jensen's shoulder. "We should hang out more, douche. Now let's get you a drink."

Three hours later, Jensen's buzzed and leaning on Mike. The party's winding down, people hooking up in ways they'll regret in the morning, and Jensen's pretty sure he and Mike are going to have sex, but it's not a bad thing. Sex with Mike isn't bad, really. All things considered. They've gotten good at sneaking around, Mike's assistant Lilah giving them rides, dropping Tom off too to cover up that they're together. Maybe they've just known each other long enough that the press doesn't care anymore.

Jensen knows it doesn't work like that.

"When was the last time you got laid, Ackles?" asks Mike. Jensen isn't sure if he started talking out-loud about having sex, or if Mike is just asking. It could go either way.

"I dunno," Jensen mumbles, except he does, knows exactly. "Few months ago?"

The last time he got laid, Rider Strong was doing a guest-spot on the show and they got drunk. Jensen doesn't think that his "only sleep with guys who are married" policy is a particularly good choice in terms of his happiness, but they're more paranoid about being outed than he is, and that helps him feel secure.

There's nothing in the world Jensen hates as much as paparazzi scooping stupid fucking hookups.

"When's the last time you went on a date?"

"This count?"

Mike glares. "No."

"But you got me a drink."

"Jensen, seriously."

"You sound like my mom."

"She still call Jared?" he asks.

Jensen wonders how Jared got into this conversation. Jensen doesn't think that was him. "Every month, yeah," he says.

"How's he doing?"

Jensen rests his head against the wall, looking up the the light. It doesn't hurt his eyes at all, somehow. He's drunk. "Good," he says. "Real good."

"How you doing?"

"Is that a pickup line?"

"No," says Mike. Then, "Like I need one."

"Yeah," says Jensen. "I miss him," he adds.

"Yeah," says Mike. "I know."

*

The phone rings at an ungodly early hour and Jared flails for it.

"Hey, Padalecki!"

"Jesus," says Jared, "where the hell are you, Danneel?"

"Tokyo," she says brightly.

"And what time is it in Tokyo?"

"Eight," she says. "I just finished an interview. I used some of that Japanese Masi taught me, pretty sure I told an interviewer I liked dick."

Jared scrubs his hand over his eyes. "Why did Masi teach you to say you like dick?"

"I asked him. Anyway, I'm gonna be in New York next weekend."

"Couldn't you have e-mailed me this?"

"I wanted to say hi."

"Danny," he says, "seriously, it's seven a.m. On a Sunday."

"Did I wake up your boyfriend?"

"He's at his place. Would you care if you did?"

"Of course I would. Whatsisname seems sweet."

"Greg. When are you going to be in the city?"

"Friday for Dom's latenight, staying til Sunday morning. Want to come hang out?"

"Next Saturday?" Jared asks. "You know it's kind of a long drive," he says, smile in his voice.

"You know I'm a seriously hot movie star, right? You should be begging for this."

"So who are you trying to keep the press off of?" he asks.

"Fred Pullman," she says instantly. "Photographer."

Jared shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm your beard."

"I'm your faghag, get it right. I don't think the press really even thinks we're fucking anymore."

"We're not," Jared points out.

"Whatever. They figure I wouldn't still hang out with you if there wasn't something."

"Don't they know I'm awesome?"

Danneel laughs. "Guess not. So, next Saturday? Gonna be there?"

"Got a hotel I can crash in?"

"I'll e-mail you the details, yeah. See you, Padalecki."

Jared can't help smiling. "See you."

He loves Danneel, he does. He doesn't know--it wasn't worth it, exactly, but he and Jensen were fucked before he and Danneel ever did anything. So he doesn't--he can't--

He's glad he's got her, anyway.

He pops his shoulders and drags himself out of bed; if he's awake, he might as well be working. If he finishes at school early, he might be able to finish up his grading in time to have dinner with Greg.

Days like this--days that start with a wake-up call from Danneel Harris, big-name movie star, and might end with, at best, cuddling with a high-school English teacher--drive home how weird Jared's life is. Sometimes, it feels cool, like he's cheated somehow, gotten to live more than his own share. Not a lot of people leave Hollywood once they're in decent shape, but Jared--he always thought he was kind of okay with attention, that Jensen was the one who couldn't deal with his life being examined for minute details, but it turns out--well, it turns out, he likes this too.

Of course, still hanging out with Danny, he still gets some media attention, to say nothing of the steady stream of high school boys who beg him to get him autographs and naked pictures. Who, at the very least, beat the girls who Jared's pretty sure read every one of the bazillion stories written back in the day about how he and Jensen were madly in love, and are still holding out the hope that their hot teacher is macking it on the weekends with one of Hollywood's sexiest b-listers.

He's pretty sure they think that he and Jensen are still friends, that he's just lying to protect him. He wonders what they'd think about his relatively tame relationship with their English teacher, who's never been on TV, never had a six-pack, and never even lived with Jared.

*

"Kill that phone or I kill you," mutters Mike, grabbing one of Jensen's pillows and pulling it down over his head.

Jensen kicks him in the leg as he scrambles for the phone, smirks at Mike's yelp of annoyance. "You deserve it, fucker," says Jensen.

"Bastard" says Mike. "See if I ever pity-fuck you again."

"You say that every time you pity-fuck me." He finds the phone and picks up without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

There's no answer.

"Hello?" he tries again, and the line goes dead. He glances down at the phone, registers the unlisted number, and hangs up himself.

"Who was it?" asks Mike. He's out of bed now and pulling on his jeans from last night.

Jensen shrugs. "Wrong number, crank call, or creepy stalker."

"I'm rooting for option three," says Mike.

"Thanks, jackass."

Jensen's phone rings again a few minutes later, as Mike's trying to track down his shirt, and he glances down to see it's Maria. "Shit, publicist. She probably heard I went home with you."

"Aww, don't tell me Tommy ratted us out. He's probably just jealous."

"Shut up."

Mike shrugs on his coat. "Tell her I say hi."

"She probably wants me to date you."

"Tell her I'm too good for you."

Jensen gives him the finger, and Mike just waves and takes off.

"Hey, Maria."

"Hi, Jensen. How's my favorite client today?"

"Tired, and I know you like Gaius better than me."

She laughs. "Such a charmer in the mornings."

He flops back against the bed. It smells kind of like Mike, and he wrinkles his nose. He doesn't dislike Mike's smell or anything, but he's not--well, he's Mike. Jensen doesn't have warm or fuzzy feelings about him. "So what is it?"

"You went to that party last night, right?"

"Yes, I went."

"Did you find anyone you can take to Maggie's premiere?"

Jensen sighs. "Can't I just take Maggie?"

Maria huffs, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "I believe she's taking her husband. Her real husband, not her TV one."

"Don't see why," mutters Jensen. "You think I'm cooler than James, right?"

"I think you need a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I don't even care. But if you seriously want to be an actor--"

"I am an actor, Maria," says Jensen. They've had this argument before. "My personal life is just that: personal."

"I don't care if you don't want to parade guys around in front of the press," says Maria, too calmly. "But people want to at least think you have a personal life."

"I don't," Jensen points out.

"I hear you were hanging out with Mike Rosenbaum."

"Did Welling tell you?"

"Yes."

"Traitor."

"Jensen, can you just go do something with him? Even as a friend. I honestly don't know what you do with your time."

"I have hobbies," says Jensen. He does, too. He takes photographs, actually submits them to contests with a fake name and everything; it keeps him busy. He likes it. He hangs out with Chris and Steve sometimes, he just tries to keep it on the down-low. "And I have friends," he adds.

"What about Danneel?" asks Maria.

Jensen splutters. She's clearly desperate. "What about Danneel?"

"Have you tried talking to her recently?"

"No," says Jensen.

"You two nearly got married. A reconciliation would--"

"Okay, look. We didn't nearly get married, Maria. We dated, I proposed, she said no. End of story."

"She slept with your best friend."

"You want me to get back together with her or bitch her out?"

"I don't care. How about Jared?"

"I haven't talked to Jared in years."

"People always liked the two of you together."

"Yeah, erotic fan fiction about my life is really something I miss."

Maria laughs. "Trust me, it's not gone."

Jensen groans. "Don't tell me." Without Jared there to burst in and inform him that the one story where they're both wizards updated and now Jared was also molested as a child and is part werewolf or some shit, Jensen is pretty out-of-touch with the whole internet. He doesn't miss it at all.

"Look, would you--maybe you could come out."

"I don't want to come out."

"Just think about it, okay?"

"And, what, get typecast as that gay guy for the rest of my life?"

"Look at Neil Patrick Harris," she points out.

"Look at Mike," Jensen counters.

"I don't hear Mike complaining."

Jensen rubs his forehead. "You really want me to take someone to this?"

"Yes," says Maria. "Anyone."

Jensen lets out a long sigh. "Fine. Fine. I'll--fine."

"Chris and Steve don't count," she says.

"What? Why not?"

"Goodbye, Jensen."

*

Danneel stretches and cracks her neck. Los Angeles to Tokyo never stops being a shitty flight; she's done it before, she'll do it again, but even first class won't make her like it. One of her own movies was playing in-flight too, which is always weird. She's never gotten the taste for watching herself, even in private. She guesses some people can, but she hasn't ever met them. Or anyone who'll admit to it, anyway.

She turns her cell on as soon as the seatbelt sign blinks off--Fred was supposed to text her if he was in town, and she's hoping, more than she expected. She's come to like her reputation as some kind of loose woman just because she's not married yet, and she doesn't expect any of her relationships to go anywhere anymore, but she likes Fred. He's fun, and funny, and he makes her feel like she doesn't have to be the girl she's got a reputation for being. She feels like she can be herself.

Of course, he's texted to say he can't be in town, and to make matters worse she's got a bunch of e-mails from her publicist about high-profile men she should be dating. She sighs and dials her voicemail, hoping it's someone telling her they want to give her a pony. Or a ridiculous amount of money for a movie.

Hey, Danneel, says Jensen's voice, crackling in her ear. It's Jensen. I, uh. She can practically hear him pacing, running a hand through his hair, and it makes her smile in spite of the shitty flight. Look. I know it's--Hi. I just. My publicist is all over my ass, and I'm not--trust me, I'm not trying to start anything. I just figured maybe yours was all over your ass, or even--I miss you. So. Call me. Unless you still hate me. Which I'd get. I was kind of--you know how I was. Anyway. Bye.

Danneel laughs, shakes her head at the phone, calling back without even thinking about it. Lack of affection had never been the problem with her and Jensen; it just never seemed like the right time for them. And then she fucked Jared and fucked--a lot of things she wished she hadn't. Not that it was her fault, really; two to tango and all that, but still. She loves Jared, but she'd take it back in a second.

"Hey," says Jensen, sounding a little breathless and nervous. "Wasn't sure you were gonna call."

"After a message like that? How could I not?"

He laughs, sounding a little older, a little more tired, but still the same Jensen laugh, nervous and unsure. "Yeah, I'm awesome on the phone."

"So what's your publicist saying?"

"That if I ever want to make it big, I have to start talking about my personal life."

"You do," Danneel agrees. "You want a beard? Jared's really good at it."

She wishes she could see him, because she'd know if he tensed up. The pause isn't awkward; he bounces back at once. She wasn't sure he would.

"That never worked that well for us," he points out.

"Depending on your definition of well."

Now there's a pause. "How is he?"

"I figured you would have called him first," she says.

Jensen lets out a breath. "No. I--didn't really want to ask him to a premiere."

She lets it go. "You asking me out, Ackles?"

"Yeah. Not--I'm not expecting--"

"I've got a boyfriend," she says. "On the down-low."

"Yeah?" asks Jensen. He sounds happy for her. "You like him?"

"Yeah," she says, "I do."

"Awesome," he says.

"So," she smiles as she gets off the plane, "when's your big night?"

"Maggie's big night. Her hiatus movie finally premieres in two weeks."

"Awfully short notice," she points out. "I might have plans."

"Do you?"

She mentally shuffles through her schedule. "It's in LA?"

"Yeah."

"Friday?"

"Yeah."

Danneel runs her hand through her hair. "I'll double check," she says. "But I think I could slum it with you."

"Don't worry, I always put out."

"Yeah," she says. "I know."

*

Jared is done with school by three on Friday and grabs a flight to New York a few hours later. He always feels like he should drive--Ithaca isn't that far away--but he likes having the time on the plane to grade. It makes him feel less guilty for giving up his weekend to hang out with Danneel Harris in the big city.

She's got her hotel already, and Jared's got a name he can use to get a key, and he thinks that it's possibly the lamest thing he can do, sitting in a movie star's hotel room, doing paperwork.

His phone rings as he's getting a cab--Greg, of course. "Hey!"

"Hi," says Greg warmly. "You there?"

"I'm here. What's up?"

"Just thought I'd check in," says Greg.

Jared laughs. "You're jealous, aren't you. You still think I miss boobs."

"I'd go straight for Danneel Harris."

"I remember you tripping over your tongue when you met her, yeah."

"Shut up."

"So what's really up?"

"My kid sister is getting married," says Greg finally. "I wanted to see if you'd come to the wedding."

Jared's glad this conversation isn't in person. "Greg . . ."

"Look, Jared, I like you," says Greg. "You know I like you. And I know--you like me, right?"

"Of course I do."

"You wouldn't come for Christmas," says Greg. "Or spring break. And you never ask me--it's been almost a year and I haven't met anyone in your family."

"I'm--" Jared's not even sure what he is. He hasn't had a serious relationship since; well, he thinks of Sandy as his last girlfriend. Because he's never had anyone else he loves like he loved her. Genevieve was sweet and wonderful but Jared realized--he'd been trying too hard to get someone new, and he wasn't fair to her. He proposed too soon, and Gen had called him out on it, told him he was trying to one-up Jensen.

He's dated a lot since then, but he's never gotten serious. Greg is the closest he's come, but he can't see himself living with him. Not forever.

"This is the hotel," says Jared. "Listen--I'll think about it, okay? I just--I'm not good at this stuff."

There's a pause before Greg says, "Yeah, okay."

Jared's checked in and heading upstairs before his phone rings again. He's terrified it's Greg, but it's not--it's Donna Ackles. He's not sure if that's better.

"Hi, Mama Ackles!" he says brightly.

"Hello, Jared," she says warmly. "How's my favorite physics teacher?"

"I'm in New York, actually. In the city."

"Oh? What brings you out there?"

"I'm visiting Danneel."

"I always liked that girl," she says. "How's she doing?"

"I haven't talked to her yet. I just got in, and she's gonna be on TV."

"Oh, I know. She e-mailed to let me know."

"I hear she's going to a premiere with Jensen."

"He tried to get his sister to come but she shot him down. That boy can't get a date to save his life."

"Doesn't he have anyone he's actually going out with?"

"If he does he won't tell me."

Jared sighs. "Sorry. Kind of feels like my fault."

"Honey," says Donna, smiling, "my boy's been stupid since before he ever met you. I can't believe you're the one who got out of acting, with how much he likes his privacy. His first girlfriend, I found out from her. She felt guilty not telling me."

Jared laughs. He hasn't seen Donna since Supernatural finished, but he's happier than he can say that she keeps calling him. He'd miss her. He misses enough people these days.

"Well, you must be busy," says Donna. "I'll let you go."

"Thanks for calling," he says. "You say hi to the family for me now, you hear?"

"I will. Say hi to Danneel. Tell her we all loved her last movie."

"I know you already told her that," says Jared, smiling. "But I'll tell her again anyway."

"Good boy. Bye, honey."

"Bye."

Jared is great with parents, and he knows it. But--taking someone to a wedding. It seems so serious.

Jared doesn't actually want Greg getting his hopes up too high.

"Jesus," he mutters.

The room is big and nice, of course--two beds, which was thoughtful of Danneel. He flops down on one with his pile of quizzes and gets going, trying not to think about anything.

Because clearly, that's going to solve his problems.

He falls asleep at some point, and wakes up when Danneel comes in.

"Hey," he says muzzily.

"Hi," she says. "You are so lame now that you're not an actor."

"I dunno what you're talking about."

"You haven't even touched the minibar."

"You gonna get me drunk and have your way with me, Harris?"

"You guessed my master plan."

Jared laughs. "Mama Ackles says hi."

"Did she tell you she loved my new movie?"

"Of course she did."

Danneel grins. "So tell me about your life, Padalecki."

*

Jensen's a little on edge.

He's gotten a lot more calls--unlisted number, heavy breathing, hanging up, the creepy works. It's not like he's never had crazy fans before--something about him just draws in the weirdos, maybe. Jared used to say he was just too pretty for regular people.

Jensen sighs and calls Clif.

"I think I've got a stalker," he says.

"I haven't seen anything," says Clif. "What have you got?"

"Crank calls," says Jensen. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but--I've gotten like two calls a day for the last couple weeks. It's freaking me out."

Clif is quiet for a while. "It's weird, yeah, but--anything else?"

"No," says Jensen petulantly.

"Get a new phone, change your number," says Clif. "I'm not saying it's not a big deal, but if they haven't sent you any mail or come to the house or set or anything, then it might just be some stupid kid who got your number and wants to freak you out."

Jensen huffs out a breath. "They might not even know it's me, right?"

"Exactly."

"All right, all right."

"Just don't give out the number to many people," says Clif.

"I never give out my number to many people."

"Right, I forget it's you," says Clif. "By the way, you make a cameo appearance in this week's Danneel article."

"Great. Why?"

"She was out with Jared."

"The billionth rehash of they betrayed me and broke my heart?"

"The usual, yeah."

"Great."

"You should get back on that wagon, man."

"God, not you too."

"I'm just saying, they might stop if you got over her."

"I am over her," Jensen says, which is true. "It's just--it sucks."

"Change your number," says Clif. "If it keeps happening--we'll get the police."

"Yeah," says Jensen. "Okay. Thanks."

*

Jared gets all Jensen's mass e-mails. He'll send one out every few months, and every time there's this rush of hope that it's an e-mail just for him, saying anything. Jared got over being picky a while back.

Instead, it's the usual thing, a change of phone number, a brief update about the end of the season of Englewood. He's not doing a movie this summer, which surprises Jared--he would have expected one. He wonders what he's doing instead.

Jared knows he's being stubborn. He knows that they both are, because--it's impossible that Jensen doesn't like him, doesn't want to talk to him. He is absolutely fucking certain that he's still Jensen's best friend. Jensen has never stopped being his, not for a second.

And isn't that the saddest fucking thing in the world.

He groans and bangs his head lightly against his desk. He should just go home and drink himself into a stupor. That always helps.

There's a knock at his door and he straightens up.

"Come in."

Libby Patrick from his second period class is looking nervous in the doorframe. Libby got accepted early decision to Vassar, but she's still been doing her work, which Jared really, really appreciates.

"Hey, Libby, what's up? Come on in, have a seat."

She does, grabbing a stool from one of the lab tables and pulling it across from his desk. Libby isn't one of the students who seeks him out during free periods or lunches, not someone he'd consider himself close to, exactly, but she's a good kid and he likes her, and he knows she's one of Greg's favorites.

"I, um," she bites her lip. Jared prays she isn't going to ask him to prom. This has happened before. "I wanted to ask you about acting."

Jared's eyebrows shoot up. "Acting?"

"Yeah. I'm--I do some theater stuff now--"

"I saw you in Winter's Tale," says Jared. "You were great."

She flushes. "Thanks. I just--I don't know. My parents think I should go to college first, that if I don't go now and get that done I'm going to ruin my whole future. And I know I can act in college and all that, but--I want it now. I like it, and I think I'm good at it, and I know it's hard, but--"

"Hey," he says gently, "I get it. I was all set for college when I decided to take off to Hollywood."

"UT Austin," she says. "I read your wiki page."

He laughs. "God bless the internet. So--you're not sure?"

"I mean--I can still do college, can't I? I could--go to Hollywood and be a starving artist and if it didn't work out college isn't going anywhere. That's what you did, right? You came back to college when acting--when you--"

"When I wanted to," Jared supplies. "Yeah, you're right. You can always go back to school."

"Do you think I should?"

Jared lets out a bark of laughter. "Libby--"

"Not--I don't know who else to ask. You were there, right?"

"I was there. It's a crapshoot, Libby. I can't tell you that you're good and it's going to work out. I can't tell you it's not going to."

"But I want to."

"What would your parents do? If they don't help you, can you support yourself?"

"My aunt lives in L.A. I know she'd let me stay with her."

Jared sighs. "I think your mind's pretty much made up," he says. "Am I right?"

She looks away. "They're going to kill me."

"Is it worth it?"

"I think so."

"Then good luck, I guess."

She flashes a smile. "Do you have any contacts you can help me out with?"

Jared laughs. "I'll see if Danneel knows any agents for you."

"Really?"

"Sure. Just don't let your parents kill me."

"Okay. Deal."

Jared glances at the e-mail from Jensen again, thinking--this is stupid.

thanks for the new number, man, he types. I'll update it. mine's the same.

It's a pretty wussy message. Safe.

He still can't bring himself to send it.

*

"Oh my god," says Maggie. "You're Danneel Harris."

Danneel laughs, her same laugh as ever. "Jensen didn't tell you I was coming?"

"Oh, no, he did, I just--I didn't," she laughs nervously. "I am such a huge fan."

"Thank you," says Danneel, a wide, winning smile. Jensen's always jealous of the way hers looks genuine.

He's feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time--no calls since he changed his number, radio silence, and seeing Danneel is so nicer than he realized it would be.

He didn't realize quite how much he'd missed her.

"I love the show," Danneel is telling Maggie. "And I'm really looking forward to the movie."

"Have you met my husband, James?" she asks.

"I don't believe so," says Danneel, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure."

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine," says James, with a smirk. Jensen's not James's biggest fan, but the guy's nice enough. Jensen gets jealous of the two of them sometimes, and he knows that's not either of their faults. So he tries not to hate James too much. "I loved Kings and Beggars."

Danneel laughs. "Thanks. I used to watch Psych when it was on--I'm so glad the two of you stayed together."

It doesn't take a genius to read that subtext. Jensen clears his throat. "We should get our seats," he pipes up. "It's gonna start soon."

"A pleasure to meet you both," says Danneel with her movie-star smile, and then they're going in.

"You're such a flirt," says Jensen fondly.

"That's why I'm making the big bucks," she shoots back.

"Thanks for coming," he says.

Her smile softens, something real and fond there now. "All you have to do is ask, Jensen."

*

Everything, as far as Jensen's concerned, is going well. Danneel has started sending him random text messages and calling him when she's bored. It's nice, having her back in his life, even if it inexplicably makes him miss Jared more. He never really realized how much he associates the two of them--they occupied the same part of his life, he guesses, and he lost them--he lost them both twice, at about the same times, for about the same reasons.

Jensen wishes, not for the first time, that he'd sucked it up, stopped worrying about the billion things that could go wrong, and not proposed to Danneel.

He hadn't thought it was worth giving up Danneel for the chance of having Jared.

Now he hasn't got either of them.

"Mail," says Olivia, coming in with a pile of things. "No packages, just letters."

"Thanks," says Jensen. "Any calls?"

"A wrong number," says Olivia.

Jensen tenses immediately. He hates this. "What'd they say?"

"Nothing," she says easily. "Just hung up."

Jensen lets out a heavy breath.

"Everything okay?" asks Olivia. She's a good assistant, as they go--keeps him coordinated and on top of things and doesn't make judgmental comments about how he should have a girlfriend or boyfriend or any kind of social life. But he doesn't really want to tell her he's paranoid about a stalker. That seems--bad.

"Yeah. Fine. Thanks for the mail, Olivia."

"Any time. I was wondering--can I take off? Carl called and I'm thinking about giving him another chance."

"He's a dog," says Jensen.

"I know, I know."

"You can leave early, but I'm against the date."

"Noted," says Olivia. "Thanks, Jensen."

"Get going," he says. "Powder your hair."

"Nose. No one's powdered hair since, like, George Washington."

"Shut up."

Olivia laughs and waves. "Have a good night."

"You too."

Jensen glances through the mail--bills, catalogs he never ordered, a postcard from Misha in Tahiti. He opens the up mindlessly, wondering what the fuck Misha's doing in Tahiti and why Olivia would be giving Carl a second chance. It just seems stupid.

And then he finds the note.

The envelope is printed, computer script giving nothing away, no return address, impersonal stamp, postmarked somewhere in L.A.

The note itself is old-school, letters cut out from newspapers and magazines, traditional for a ransom note. He wonders, with a weird distance, if it's also traditional for stalkers, or if this person is just unimaginative.

i see you is all it says.

He calls Owen.

Owen French has been his agent for the last five years, got him Englewood, got him some decent films, hooked him up with Maria to try to keep him from being a total hermit--he likes Owen, is the thing. Trusts him as much as he trusts anyone who works for him, except for Clif, and knows the guy likes him fairly well.

"Jensen! I was just on my way out. What can I do for you?"

"I think I've got a stalker."

"Is that why you changed your number?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't anything," he says. "Nothing certain, anyway. Just prank calls."

"So what changed?"

"I got a letter. At my house."

"What's it say?"

"I'm scanning it and sending it over."

"What did people do when they got stalked before the internet?"

"It was probably a lot harder to stalk people before the internet," says Jensen. "Sent."

There's a pause. "That's not good. Any more calls?"

"Olivia said we had a hangup here at the house."

"And that's what you were getting before?"

"Some heavy breathing, no words."

"You should have told me."

"I told Clif," he says defensively.

"Great."

"So what do I do?"

He can hear Owen's sigh. "Any calls on the new phone?"

"No."

"Do you feel okay staying there?"

Jensen rubs his forehead. "Yeah. For now. I've got security systems like you wouldn't believe."

"Knowing you? I believe. I'll get in touch with the police, get them on this. They're gonna want the note."

Jensen laughs hollowly. "Yeah, like I really want to keep it."

"It's gonna be okay," says Owen. It sounds like he's talking to a kid.

"Yeah," says Jensen. "Great."

*

"Is Jensen Ackles really back with Danneel Harris?" asks Muriel. She teaches math and is one of two other teachers who knows about Jared and Greg. The friendship is a little forced, but Jared likes her, and adores her daughter Polly.

"No," says Jared.

"How do you know?"

"Danneel has a boyfriend."

"Oh," says Muriel.

"Is it you?" asks Polly.

"It's definitely not me."

"Did you know she's a bad influence on America's youth?" asks Muriel.

Jared snorts. "Since when?"

"Since she's thirty-seven and never been married."

"Is it better if she's thirty-seven and divorced?"

Muriel shrugs. "She's promoting bad family values."

Jared shakes his head. "Good to know."

"Why didn't she marry Jensen?" asks Polly.

Jared smiles. "Guys, seriously, we've got to have something better to gossip about than Danneel Harris."

"Greg hasn't RSVPed to his sister's wedding yet," says Muriel, with very careful casualness. "He's trying to figure out if he has a plus one."

Jared groans. "Let's talk about Danneel again."

Muriel laughs, but it doesn't make it to her eyes. "Polly, can you go find your father?"

"What for?"

"We're taking Jared and Greg out to dinner. He needs to get dressed. And so do you."

Polly looks down at herself. "I am dressed."

"There are grass stains all over your knees. Something presentable. Please?"

Polly huffs. "Fine. I better get dessert."

"You will!"

Polly takes off, and Muriel whirls on Jared.

"Muriel--"

"Greg loves you, you know."

Jared winces.

"And it's not fair," Muriel continues, "the way you treat him. He deserves better."

"I've never said I'm--this was never--"

"Jared."

Jared shuts up.

"You're my friend, okay? And friends tell friends when they're being assholes."

"What do you want me to do?" asks Jared. He likes Greg a lot, but it feels dishonest to act like it's more than it is. More than it's ever going to be, on Jared's side.

"Shit or get off the pot," says Muriel.

Jared swallows. "Oh."

"Just a thought."

*

Jensen is beyond on edge.

"You know you haven't left the house in three days, right?" asks Percy. "I'm thinking I should start dusting you."

Jensen raises his eyebrows. "Don't even think about it."

Percy laughs. "I'm just worried about your health, Mr. Ackles. I think you might develop a vitamin D deficiency."

"I went outside."

"Into the yard. Seriously, what's going on?"

"Nothing," says Jensen quickly. Percy is a nice kid, a great cook and decent housekeeper, but Jensen doesn't think his stalker is any of Percy's business. He's gotten a few more calls to the house phone, but no more letters, and apparently no leads from the police. Nothing to alarm the staff about. "I'm just enjoying the hiatus."

"If I had a hiatus," says Percy, "and I was as rich as you? I wouldn't be hanging out in my house, even if it was as sweet as this. I'd be out and about, in Europe or something. Getting laid."

"You have a beautiful world view, Percy," says Jensen. "Remind me to try to see it sometime."

"I'll get Liv to write you a memo."

Olivia comes in just then with the mail. "What memo, Percy?"

"Tell Mr. Ackles to lighten up and enjoy his celebrity. With hot chicks."

"I'll get some post-its."

"Try his forehead."

"For what I'm paying you guys, you should never mock me."

"I can't be won over by material wealth," says Percy breezily. "I'm a higher being."

"Who just wants to vacation in Europe and get laid."

"Sex isn't material wealth."

"Just give me the mail and leave me alone, both of you," Jensen grumbles. Olivia laughs and hands it over. "You got another date tonight?"

"I think he might have actually turned over a new leaf," says Olivia.

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"Jensen!"

"God, not--look, just don't decide he's so different until after."

"Yeah, yeah," says Olivia, waving her hand. "I'm leaving. I'll see you guys on Monday."

"Have a good weekend, Liv!" says Percy. "I got some pretty nice steaks at the store today, Mr. Ackles--how's that for dinner?"

"Sounds great. Thanks, Percy."

Percy flicks his duster over Jensen's nose.

"Air, Mr. Ackles. Try it."

"Shut up."

Percy laughs and takes off, and Jensen shakes his head. He's looking at the mail again, smile lingering on his face, when he spots an envelope, plain type on white, a familiar font.

No stamp, no post-mark, no address, even.

It must have been delivered by hand.

you look good

He calls Owen.

Twenty minutes later, Percy's getting the hiatus he wanted, and Jensen's headed to a hotel.

Thirty minutes later, he sends out an e-mail saying he's going to be out of the house for a while, gives the name of his hotel.

Forty minutes later, his cell phone rings, and when he picks up, he can just hear breath.

"I'm leaving," he tells Owen.

"Jensen, you already left."

"Someone called. I didn't give that number out. I don't--something bad is happening, and I'm not telling anyone where I'm going. Not even you."

"Jensen--"

"You can call me," he says. "But I'm not budging on this, Owen. I don't--I'm getting out of here."

There's a long pause. "I'm calling every day, you bastard."

"Yeah, fine. Whatever."

Jensen doesn't trust a lot of people in the world.

In fact, when it comes right down to it, there's only one person he's ever completely trusted.


Part two