![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: This Is Not A Girl Crush
Author: Me? Oh,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nouveau_monday. Yeah. That’s me.
Rating: PG-13 (Okay, okay, don’t kill me. I don’t know what’s wrong. I lost my porn somewhere.)
Warnings: Blatant objectification of Jensen Ackles and Kerr Smith. Lots of swearing. Angsty McStupidPants
Disclaimer: Apparently, I have no shame inside me. And, also, this is FICTION.
Beta: The bestest Jill that I ever did see.
Author's Notes: written for luke_noah's monthly challenge #3. Thanks to people who answered questions about 3D movies and humored my need to know about Ryder Hughes. Yeah. Umm. Don’t ask.
*****
“And you say I have terrible taste in movies? You were busy fanning over a movie at 3 in the morning. What were you doing awake at that hour anyway? Did you forget you had to shoot today or something?”
Jake bobbles the styrofoam coffee cup he’s handing over. “Or something. I probably had to take a piss. I don’t remember. Whatever, man. How can you say that My Bloody Valentine is going to be bad? 3-D, Van. 3-D, kick ass special effects, and, god, it’s going to be, I mean, god.” Jake gulps at his coffee, swears as it sears his mouth. “Shit that’s hot.”
Van raises his eyebrow. His muscles tighten in his crossed arms, across the cup his body is in danger of breaking. “Then finish your sentence instead of trying to melt your taste buds next time.” He hands over his danish. “Have a bite. Sugar is supposed to balance the heat.”
“That’s spice, not third degree burns.” Jake grabs at the pastry and rips off a piece anyway. “Fank oo,” he mutters before swallowing. Jake laughs. “That actually worked.” He drops his arm over Van’s shoulder. “And hey, now that I’m lacking taste buds, it shouldn’t matter that you had that extra garlic and blue cheese pizza last night. You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Billy put you up to it? We know he’s all jealous about not being the third in some strange Luke/Noah/Casey circle jerk.”
“What’s that?” Van cups his hand to his ear. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your ego swelling.” He elbows Jake’s ribs. “I ate the garlic because everyone’s been sick recently and I don’t want to be next.”
“And the addition of moldy cheese? Does that have magical healing properties? Anyway, you can’t get sick. I bought us tickets to the midnight showing of My Bloody Valentine for friday.” He bats his eyelashes shamelessly. “Be a sport. Don’t make Noah see a movie without his Luke.” He grins. “It might do Luke some good to see someone prettier than himself.”
“No one in Oakdale is prettier than Luke. Face facts. Noah should count his blessings.”
“Oh, yeah, and my ego is swelling. Nice, Hansis.”
They walk over to make up in relative silence. Contemplation broken only by the slurp of coffee. Van tries not to let Jake’s words repeat, but he can’t help it. Someone prettier than him? When does Jake ever think Van is pretty? Okay. This is stupid. He needs to say something. He freezes with his hand on the door. “You think Jaime King is more attractive than me?”
Jake coughs. “What? No. I said no such thing.”
“You implied it loud and clear.” Okay, so, yeah, he had no reason for this to bother him. None what-so-ever. Just because Jake has terrible taste. That is so not his problem.
“I implied no such thing.” He jerks the door open. “We’re needed on set soon. I want to run lines. And make you gargle with bleach. You think bleach will mask the garlic?”
“Not to mention the anchovies and caramelized onions.” Van winks, then settles into the chair. “Alright, time to make me beautiful. And unlike others, I don’t need special 3D effects for that.” He attempts to lose himself in his thoughts, but is interrupted and jumps at the heat of fingers meshing with his.
“Don’t worry so much, Hansis. You’ll always be the fairest in the land.”
He searches for something witty to say. He comes up blank. The heat sparking off their joined hands burns his ability to speak. “Thanks,” he manages to whisper. Hopefully his smile looks self-deprecating and not somewhere between shy and needy. That would suck.
*****
*****
Jake manages to make 3D glasses not goofy. Van wants to slap himself. Figures. What doesn’t that fucker wear well? Part of him wants to ask if Jake wouldn’t prefer to go by himself, so he can, y’know, have some alone time with Jensen Ackles. A larger part of him never wants to hear the answer. He stares at the people around them, the clock on the theatre wall, back to the people. “A midnight showing? Why are we doing a midnight showing?”
“Because midnight madness is the shit. Stop complaining or no popcorn for you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t put out after 10pm without popcorn, Twizzlers and an extra large, extra caffeinated drink.”
Jake stumbles, leans into Van for a moment. He jumps back, wipes his hands down his shirt. Van watches long fingers stroke down a long torso and god damn, he’s in trouble. Way out of his league trouble. Trouble like he hasn’t had to deal with since junior high. I’ve become some awful cliche: queer BFF with crush on the straight boy. Kill me now.
“Did you see those photos of Jensen Ackles poking Jared Padalecki in the face with a Twizzler?” Jake runs his fingers through his hair. “He’s the coolest. He was Eric Brady on Days, Alec on Dark Angel, there was that stint on Dawson’s Creek, but now his own kick ass show and now, now a movie in 3D.” Jake’s eyes are bluer than usual, or maybe it’s the pink of his cheeks.
Wait. What? Jake is blushing. That can’t be right. Van turns to stare at his friend. He ignores the steady stream of white face and black lipped girls and boys. His worst fears now confirmed. “Jake Silbermann, you have a girl crush on Jensen Ackles.”
“Shut up!” Jake tugs Van forward to the food counter. “I do not.”
“You totally do. You aren’t a fan of this movie. You’re a fan of this movie’s lead. I cannot believe you conned me into a midnight showing for your burgeoning girl crush.” Van smiles at the girl behind the counter before he says something stupid. “Two large popcorns, extra butter, extra salt. Large bag of Twizzlers and an extra large Slushee, half Coke, half Cherry. My date,” he lets the word roll off his tongue. “Will have a large Coke and some Junior Mints.” His brain is reeling, and not in a fun one-too-many drinks kinda way. Jake’s been talking about the movie for months. They’d rented the original in preparation two weeks prior. He thinks about how Jake rarely went out on Thursday nights because Supernatural was on. This can’t be happening. Van doesn’t want to admit that he spent more than a few hours online comparing pictures of himself and pictures of Jensen Ackles because he sucks. “You’re paying.”
“Duh. I told you that I would this morning. A slushee, really? Sometimes you are just so gay.”
“Duh. I told you that I was when we met.” Van takes his half of the proffered snacks. He doesn’t exactly stomp off while Jake slips his wallet from his back pocket. But it’s more than a little too close for his personal comfort. Fuck.
“Hey, hold up. Impatient much?” Jake is slightly out of breath, and somehow that makes him all the more hot.
“That’s you, Mister Big Gay Love for Jensen Ackles.”
“Jesus, will you shut it already? Let’s go find seats.” Jake hands over the tickets, takes back the stubs and waits. “Stop checking out my ass, Hansis. Come on. Before all the emo girls take the good seats.”
And the sad thing is, Van has been checking out his friend’s ass. “Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on.”
They find seats, after some debate, center and behind the section reserved for wheelchairs. “Best seats in the house,” Jake grins. He drops his drink in the holder and turns to Van. “Thanks for coming with. I know your hours have been crazy, so I appreciate this.”
Their eyes meet and Van is lost in a sea of mixed blues. “You paid for the ticket and the snacks. I’ve had worse dates, Silbermann. Anyway, you’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah. I would. Any time.” Jake’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, but he doesn’t turn away. The lights flicker and dim to half. “Get your glasses on. I’ll hold your hand if you get too scared.”
“Asshole.” Van sticks the black glasses on, adjusts to a world gone fuzzy. He waits for the previews and ignores the ache in his gut.
*****
“I haven’t seen anything in 3D since I went to Disney when I was a kid.” Van grabs popcorn from the tub in the center arm rest.
“I saw one in DC when I was at Syracuse. I can’t believe even the previews are 3D.”
“Shut up!”
“Quiet in front.”
Jake grunts when someone kicks the back of his seat. “It’s only the previews.” He scrunches down in his seat, leans closer to Van. “People are idiots,” he whispers. Van’s scent teases him. He should move, should sit up, god, should do anything other than stay where he is, nose so close to his faux-boyfriend and yearning to stay there. Yearning. He rolls his eyes. I sound like a fucking chick flick. Even if it is the right word. The sound of his heart pounding in his throat is enough to have him jerk away before Van can possibly realize. He stares at the trailers and tries to think about bloody corpses, mine disasters, and whatever is going to be in the movie that isn’t making out with Van. “Should have seen this by myself.”
Van turns to him, brown eyes so big, lips stupidly blowjob perfect. “You say something?”
“Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.” Jake grabs for popcorn and stuffs it into his mouth before he blurts out something he’ll regret.
“Sure?” Van shrugs.
Jake recognizes his impossible urge to do that stupid junior high move of yawning and stretching his arm out over his date’s seat. Yeah. No. Don’t do that. He curls himself up, relieved when the theatre goes to black and the movie begins.
“Holy shit.” Van clutches at Jake’s shirt and it would be one of his better fantasies if Van’s glasses weren’t front and forward to indicate that he wasn’t looking at Jake. “Jake. Holy shit. You didn’t tell me.”
Jake inhales so he doesn’t need to breathe too near his friend but then leans in anyway. “Didn’t tell you what?”
“Kerr Smith is in this. Kerr Mother Fucking Smith.” Van’s fingers tighten, and, okay, ow, that’s a little too close to Jake’s nipple to be okay unless there’s going to be kissing to make it better.
“Umm, yeah. I can see that.” Jake covers Van’s hand in his and gently removes it from his shirt. “What of it?” He knows he ought to release the warm fingers tangled with his own, but he doesn’t.
“Don’t you know who he is?”
Jake searches his memory banks, but can only come up with one thing Van and this Kerr Smith guy would have in common. “He played some relative of Casey’s a million years ago on the show. What’s got your knickers in a twist.”
“Are you kidding? He played Jack on Dawson’s Creek. Jack and Danny were the Luke and Noah of prime time. It was huge. I wrote to him and thanked him.” He ducks. “I’m lame.”
“Can’t you two shut up?”
“Go somewhere else to make out, homos.”
Van scrambles backwards, turns to face the angry strangers in the row behind them. “Suck it.”
“Why don’t you? Or, better yet, suck your boyfriend. At least your mouth would be full and you’d stop talking.”
Jake slinks lower in his chair, tugs on their still connected hands. “Stop making a scene, would you? They’re dicks. Leave them alone.”
Van glares once more at the people behind them. “Yeah. Fine.” He stares down. “You know, if you weren’t holding my hand they wouldn’t think we were dating. You shouldn’t have to put up with that kinda shit.”
What if I want to? Jake rolls his eyes. “While I disagree with the assholes usually, for now follow their advice. Shut up.” He lifts the popcorn out of the arm rest and nudges it up. Before he can think too much of his actions, he curls into Van’s body. “Why you gotta be like that, Baby?” Jake makes sure to pitch his voice loud enough for anyone who cares to listen. “I’ll suck your dick when we get home.” He winks at Van’s gaping mouth, ignores the almost physical pain settling in his groin. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
The first half of the movie zips by in a haze of gasps and giggles. Jake hates to think about life imitating art and all that crap, but he really is a movie geek. He spends time trying to figure out how the whole three dimensional thing works, even though he read about it before hand. “Dude, Jensen’s so cool. How much fun would it be to do something like this with him?” An axe flies at their heads. Jake will never admit to the high pitched squeak that exits his mouth. “So cool.”
Van frowns, elbows Jake away from him. “Nearly had me going there. I’m,” he sighs. “I’m not feeling well. If I promise to make it up to you and see it at a later time, do you think we could go?” He peels off his glasses, squinting at the screen like he can light it on fire if he tries hard enough.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? It’s dumb late. And that damn flu is going around. ‘Course we can. I’ll make someone else see this with me if you’re not enjoying yourself.” Jake shrugs on his jacket and stands.
“No, I wanna know who the bad guy is. Fifty says it isn’t Axel.”
“You wish.”
“Sit the fuck down, fag.”
Jake’s fists clench. “Shut the fuck up. We’re leaving.”
Van tugs on Jake. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.” They fumble their way down the aisle to the nearest exit. Once in the light of the hallway, he blinks. “Thanks for that. I’m sorry for being lame.”
“It’s fine. Let’s just get you back to your apartment. I can catch a cab from there or something.” Jake misses the warmth of Van’s body. He knows better than to mention it. There are some secrets meant to be kept just that, secret.
Jake tries to make sense of his own urges as they walk toward the subway. He gives himself the usual lecture about how Luke and Noah are not Van and Jake. Just because they’re a couple sometimes, just because Van likes to tease him about going on dates, just because he can’t remember the last time he looked at a female with anything more than a passing thought. That doesn’t have to mean anything, right? The way their bodies align when they kiss. The way Van adds an extra press of his lips or slip of tongue. That’s because Van’s a good actor. Jake wants to bang his forehead into the filthy safety glass of the train, but he manages to get himself under control.
They walk the two blocks to Van’s apartment building without sharing a single word. Jake follows up the stairs without thinking, hoping maybe that Van will invite him in, will turn to him with big brown eyes, will confess that this isn’t one sided and that he’s just as into Jake as Jake is into him, will say ‘kiss me like you mean it, not like you have to because the script says you have to’.
“Kerr Smith was on As the World Turns? Really?”
Buzz kill. “Yeah. How did you not know that if you’re, like, his number one fan?” He stops the dreams his mind was weaving of soft palms, warm lips and spicy aftershave.
“Did you see him? Did you? He was so good. I mean, no, not really. His character was pretty much a dick, but he did it well, convincingly, y’know?” Van kicks at the worn carpet.
“I guess.” Jake breathes easier when Van ignores his snark. He is not pouting. He isn’t. That would be a bad sign. “It’s cool they were both on soaps and now look at them. Big screen. Big money.” He slurps on his never-ending soda. Why is it so big? Right. Van ordered for him.
“They were. Him and Jensen.” Van sing-songs Jensen’s name.
That is it. Jake’s not sure why he’s so pissed, but goddamn is he ever. “What is your deal, Hansis? I do not have some sort of epic crush on Jensen Ackles. I admire what he’s done, okay. A soap, some smaller parts on shows and movies, and now? Now he’s one half of Supernatural plus this. Maybe I just want to study the guy, okay? Figure out how he did it.”
Van stands outside his apartment, back pressed against the wall. Keys dangle in one of the locks on the door. It’s a good thing they aren’t playing poker, because Van’s face holds no secrets. He’s hurt, angry, and lashing out. “Right. I’m sure. It couldn’t be some weird character transference or anything, right?”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Mr. Oh-my-god-Kerr-Smith-is-soooooo-dreamy. I wish I could have had him to kiss me at prom.”
Van blanches. “I am not having this argument in my hallway. Get inside.” He shoves open the door.
“We don’t argue. We disagree loudly. Now tell me what your damage is.”
Van doesn’t speak as he walks to his kitchen. He remains silent as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out two beers. No words exit his goddamned beautiful mouth as he pops the tops off the two bottles and thrusts one into Jake’s hand. He pounds a third of his. “All I’m saying is that it’s obvious, okay. And I get it. Really. Enough of my friends watch him, his green eyes, and his southern accent, and his bow legs, and his lips.” He takes another loud swallow. “It’s,” he frowns. “It’s just. You’re so talented, Jake. And I know all about method acting. It’s not surprising that you’d have at least one girl crush.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Well it’s true. Isn’t it?”
Jake deflates. “Okay, yeah. Part of it. What guy doesn’t dream about getting head from a gorgeous mouth or plowing one of the hottest asses on television?” Jake follows Van’s lead and gulps his beer. The bottle is cool under his too hot, too big, too awkward hands. “But you’re a moron if you think I want fucking Jensen Ackles.”
“Oh no. That’s exactly what you do want. You want to fuck Jensen Ackles. Stop lying.”
Jake stalks forward until he is standing in front of Van. Frustration back full force and riding under his skin like electricity seeking an outlet. He curls his fingers around Van’s wrist, halts the beer from reaching to his lips. “Look at me. Listen closely.” He waits until he could drown in the depth of Van’s eyes. “The guy in my dreams with the mouth and the ass. Sometimes he’s fucking me. Sometimes he’s blowing me. Sometimes it’s the reverse. Whatever is happening, and trust me, there have been plenty of scenarios to chose from, it isn’t with Jensen Ackles.” Jake holds his breath. What more is there to say? His back aches with tension. He has a rubber band stretched to breaking running down his spine and another between his shoulder blades.
He knows he shouldn’t, but Jake continues speaking. His mouth gets the better of his brain sometimes. “So go on. Tell me about watching Dawson’s Creek. Tell me about how Kerr Smith made you weep as Jack. I’ll understand, because what he did? That was huge. I get all that. But don’t tell me that it doesn’t help that he’s tall, dark and hot as hell. Don’t tell me that you weren’t watching what we saw of My Bloody Valentine and thinking ‘I wish he had been my boyfriend’. Even if he is ten years older than you, he’s younger than Laurence Lau. Want to go see if you can get him to come back and replace me? Want to bet he won’t mind extra garlic, blue cheese, anchovies and caramelized onions on his pizza?” Jake releases Van’s wrist. He squeezed tight and hopes he didn’t leave bruises. Christ. He hadn’t been jealous like this in forever, but he can’t think of what else the feeling could be. “I should go. I’m sorry. I never should have said any of that. I’m just. Fuck. I’m sorry. That’s it.”
God. He’s an asshole. A complete asshole. Not only did Van not deserve that, but Jake never meant to fess up to that. He places his bottle on the kitchen table. He needs to get out of here before Van punches him. He needs to get out of there before he punches himself. His heart pounds. Each step is the length of a football field, through quicksand, and he cannot move fast enough.
“Jake.”
He freezes.
“Don’t go.”
*****
Every muscle in Jake’s body is rigid. “Come here.” Van watches his friend shake his head in the negative. “No. You don’t get to make the decision any more.” He closes the distance between them, his chest almost touching Jake’s back. “You don’t get to say something like that and walk away. Not if you want to be able to work with me ever again. Not if you think we can ever get past this.” He chews on his lip. “Don’t you want to? Get past this, I mean?”
Again, Jake head moves left to right to left.
“You don’t?” His knees weaken. He stumbles back to his couch. “What are you saying?”
“It’s not fair to you.” Jake still won’t look at him, but he hasn’t made a further move toward the door. His voice is so low, so shattered. “It’s not fair to you or me. I’ll, I don’t know, I’m not on contract. I’ll tell them something came up and they need to write Noah out of the script. Maybe instead of Reg dying, it could be me?”
“Jake, talk to me. Stop, sit down. You’re talking crazy talk.” Van leans forward, grabs Jake’s wrist, pulls back with all his weight. A spill of arms and legs and shoving backward doesn’t make it less messy, less awkward. They vaguely collect themselves, but Van is straddling Jake’s lap once they’re sitting. “Okay.” He laughs nervously. “That wasn’t exactly my intention, but now that I’m here...” He runs his hands through Jake’s hair. So much softer without all that stupid product in it. He tilts Jake’s chin. “What’s going on? Normally we’re on the same page, and right now I don’t think we’re even in the same book, maybe not even the same bookstore.”
Jake swallows. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.” Van grins. “And hey, it’s not like you can go anywhere. Kinda got you pinned.”
Jake’s hands bend around Van’s waist. His thumbs ride low on the edge of Van’s jeans. “I could move you, if I wanted.”
“But?”
“But nothing.”
“No. There was more to that statement. You’re right, you could move me if you wanted. But you haven’t. So does that mean?” His thighs tighten over Jake’s. His fingers twist in Jake’s curls like he always make Luke do. “Does that mean you don’t want to move me? Does that mean you like having me in spread across you?”
Jake’s cheeks pink and this time Van is sure it has absolutely nothing to do with Jensen fucking Ackles. “Maybe?”
“Maybe?”
Van’s tongue dries watching Jake flop his head backward, expose his neck. He rocks forward, not helping the tight pull across his jeans, but moving his lips that much closer to Jake’s collarbone. “I’m not Jensen.” He mouths damply up toward Jake’s jaw.
“Nnngh” Jake’s fingers tighten. His thumbs slide under Van’s jeans, pet at soft skin. “I never wanted you to be.” He tips his head, gives Van better purchase. “I’m,” his breath hitches. “I’m not Kerr Smith.
“He’s married. Has a family. I don’t want him. Never did. Just his character, you know?” Van traces the curve of Jake’s ear with his tongue. “Tell me, tell me I’m not making an ass of myself. Tell me this is what you want as well.”
Jake thrusts up, grinds Van down at the same time. No hiding, no pretense. Denim hides a lot, but not that much “Not just you. I was never going to say anything. Thought you would laugh at me.” He noses at Van until he moves, ghosts his lips over Van’s. “It’s been almost a year. And I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.”
Their breathing evens until Van isn’t sure if it is oxygen or Jake he is pulling into his lungs. “It’s been a day, a week, a month, forever. God, you don’t even know.” His confession released from its prison in his diaphragm, he isn’t sure what happens now.
“So what now?”’
Van smiles, and then laughs. He can’t explain it to Jake, but that one question is so much better. “I have no idea. But I think we’re finding that page again. I was asking myself the same thing.”
Jake’s mouth tips into that smile he only ever gives Van. “That’s good?”
“Very good.” Van leans closer
“So, umm, I’m going to kiss you? If that’s okay.”
“Very okay.” He watches the intake of Jake’s breath, rubs denim covered thigh against denim covered thigh. Cotton shirt presses against cotton shirt. The heat between them builds. This isn’t television, it isn’t staged, but the comfort of them knowing their blocking adds to the intensity. Jake’s mouth is softer, more deliberate than Noah’s when it opens. Van’s tongue traces the slick inner walls, the bite of sharp incisors, the flavor of soda and beer. He swallows Jake’s moan with his own, melts into the tangle of their tongues, and the press of their bodies.
Jake shifts away. He presses a kiss to Van’s forehead. “I’m still not sure what just happened, and I need to catch my breath. I should probably go home before this goes further. Hey, no, don’t pull back.” He tugs at Van’s shirt, brings their bodies flush. “You have to know, whatever this is, whatever it becomes, I can tell you this much. It isn’t a girl crush.”
*****
Author: Me? Oh,
nouveau_monday. Yeah. That’s me.Rating: PG-13 (Okay, okay, don’t kill me. I don’t know what’s wrong. I lost my porn somewhere.)
Warnings: Blatant objectification of Jensen Ackles and Kerr Smith. Lots of swearing. Angsty McStupidPants
Disclaimer: Apparently, I have no shame inside me. And, also, this is FICTION.
Beta: The bestest Jill that I ever did see.
Author's Notes: written for luke_noah's monthly challenge #3. Thanks to people who answered questions about 3D movies and humored my need to know about Ryder Hughes. Yeah. Umm. Don’t ask.
Jake Silbermann became a fan of My Bloody Valentine 3-D. 3:11am
*****
“And you say I have terrible taste in movies? You were busy fanning over a movie at 3 in the morning. What were you doing awake at that hour anyway? Did you forget you had to shoot today or something?”
Jake bobbles the styrofoam coffee cup he’s handing over. “Or something. I probably had to take a piss. I don’t remember. Whatever, man. How can you say that My Bloody Valentine is going to be bad? 3-D, Van. 3-D, kick ass special effects, and, god, it’s going to be, I mean, god.” Jake gulps at his coffee, swears as it sears his mouth. “Shit that’s hot.”
Van raises his eyebrow. His muscles tighten in his crossed arms, across the cup his body is in danger of breaking. “Then finish your sentence instead of trying to melt your taste buds next time.” He hands over his danish. “Have a bite. Sugar is supposed to balance the heat.”
“That’s spice, not third degree burns.” Jake grabs at the pastry and rips off a piece anyway. “Fank oo,” he mutters before swallowing. Jake laughs. “That actually worked.” He drops his arm over Van’s shoulder. “And hey, now that I’m lacking taste buds, it shouldn’t matter that you had that extra garlic and blue cheese pizza last night. You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Billy put you up to it? We know he’s all jealous about not being the third in some strange Luke/Noah/Casey circle jerk.”
“What’s that?” Van cups his hand to his ear. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your ego swelling.” He elbows Jake’s ribs. “I ate the garlic because everyone’s been sick recently and I don’t want to be next.”
“And the addition of moldy cheese? Does that have magical healing properties? Anyway, you can’t get sick. I bought us tickets to the midnight showing of My Bloody Valentine for friday.” He bats his eyelashes shamelessly. “Be a sport. Don’t make Noah see a movie without his Luke.” He grins. “It might do Luke some good to see someone prettier than himself.”
“No one in Oakdale is prettier than Luke. Face facts. Noah should count his blessings.”
“Oh, yeah, and my ego is swelling. Nice, Hansis.”
They walk over to make up in relative silence. Contemplation broken only by the slurp of coffee. Van tries not to let Jake’s words repeat, but he can’t help it. Someone prettier than him? When does Jake ever think Van is pretty? Okay. This is stupid. He needs to say something. He freezes with his hand on the door. “You think Jaime King is more attractive than me?”
Jake coughs. “What? No. I said no such thing.”
“You implied it loud and clear.” Okay, so, yeah, he had no reason for this to bother him. None what-so-ever. Just because Jake has terrible taste. That is so not his problem.
“I implied no such thing.” He jerks the door open. “We’re needed on set soon. I want to run lines. And make you gargle with bleach. You think bleach will mask the garlic?”
“Not to mention the anchovies and caramelized onions.” Van winks, then settles into the chair. “Alright, time to make me beautiful. And unlike others, I don’t need special 3D effects for that.” He attempts to lose himself in his thoughts, but is interrupted and jumps at the heat of fingers meshing with his.
“Don’t worry so much, Hansis. You’ll always be the fairest in the land.”
He searches for something witty to say. He comes up blank. The heat sparking off their joined hands burns his ability to speak. “Thanks,” he manages to whisper. Hopefully his smile looks self-deprecating and not somewhere between shy and needy. That would suck.
*****
Jake Silbermann became a fan of Jensen Ackles. 4:43pm
*****
Jake manages to make 3D glasses not goofy. Van wants to slap himself. Figures. What doesn’t that fucker wear well? Part of him wants to ask if Jake wouldn’t prefer to go by himself, so he can, y’know, have some alone time with Jensen Ackles. A larger part of him never wants to hear the answer. He stares at the people around them, the clock on the theatre wall, back to the people. “A midnight showing? Why are we doing a midnight showing?”
“Because midnight madness is the shit. Stop complaining or no popcorn for you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t put out after 10pm without popcorn, Twizzlers and an extra large, extra caffeinated drink.”
Jake stumbles, leans into Van for a moment. He jumps back, wipes his hands down his shirt. Van watches long fingers stroke down a long torso and god damn, he’s in trouble. Way out of his league trouble. Trouble like he hasn’t had to deal with since junior high. I’ve become some awful cliche: queer BFF with crush on the straight boy. Kill me now.
“Did you see those photos of Jensen Ackles poking Jared Padalecki in the face with a Twizzler?” Jake runs his fingers through his hair. “He’s the coolest. He was Eric Brady on Days, Alec on Dark Angel, there was that stint on Dawson’s Creek, but now his own kick ass show and now, now a movie in 3D.” Jake’s eyes are bluer than usual, or maybe it’s the pink of his cheeks.
Wait. What? Jake is blushing. That can’t be right. Van turns to stare at his friend. He ignores the steady stream of white face and black lipped girls and boys. His worst fears now confirmed. “Jake Silbermann, you have a girl crush on Jensen Ackles.”
“Shut up!” Jake tugs Van forward to the food counter. “I do not.”
“You totally do. You aren’t a fan of this movie. You’re a fan of this movie’s lead. I cannot believe you conned me into a midnight showing for your burgeoning girl crush.” Van smiles at the girl behind the counter before he says something stupid. “Two large popcorns, extra butter, extra salt. Large bag of Twizzlers and an extra large Slushee, half Coke, half Cherry. My date,” he lets the word roll off his tongue. “Will have a large Coke and some Junior Mints.” His brain is reeling, and not in a fun one-too-many drinks kinda way. Jake’s been talking about the movie for months. They’d rented the original in preparation two weeks prior. He thinks about how Jake rarely went out on Thursday nights because Supernatural was on. This can’t be happening. Van doesn’t want to admit that he spent more than a few hours online comparing pictures of himself and pictures of Jensen Ackles because he sucks. “You’re paying.”
“Duh. I told you that I would this morning. A slushee, really? Sometimes you are just so gay.”
“Duh. I told you that I was when we met.” Van takes his half of the proffered snacks. He doesn’t exactly stomp off while Jake slips his wallet from his back pocket. But it’s more than a little too close for his personal comfort. Fuck.
“Hey, hold up. Impatient much?” Jake is slightly out of breath, and somehow that makes him all the more hot.
“That’s you, Mister Big Gay Love for Jensen Ackles.”
“Jesus, will you shut it already? Let’s go find seats.” Jake hands over the tickets, takes back the stubs and waits. “Stop checking out my ass, Hansis. Come on. Before all the emo girls take the good seats.”
And the sad thing is, Van has been checking out his friend’s ass. “Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on.”
They find seats, after some debate, center and behind the section reserved for wheelchairs. “Best seats in the house,” Jake grins. He drops his drink in the holder and turns to Van. “Thanks for coming with. I know your hours have been crazy, so I appreciate this.”
Their eyes meet and Van is lost in a sea of mixed blues. “You paid for the ticket and the snacks. I’ve had worse dates, Silbermann. Anyway, you’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah. I would. Any time.” Jake’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, but he doesn’t turn away. The lights flicker and dim to half. “Get your glasses on. I’ll hold your hand if you get too scared.”
“Asshole.” Van sticks the black glasses on, adjusts to a world gone fuzzy. He waits for the previews and ignores the ache in his gut.
*****
“I haven’t seen anything in 3D since I went to Disney when I was a kid.” Van grabs popcorn from the tub in the center arm rest.
“I saw one in DC when I was at Syracuse. I can’t believe even the previews are 3D.”
“Shut up!”
“Quiet in front.”
Jake grunts when someone kicks the back of his seat. “It’s only the previews.” He scrunches down in his seat, leans closer to Van. “People are idiots,” he whispers. Van’s scent teases him. He should move, should sit up, god, should do anything other than stay where he is, nose so close to his faux-boyfriend and yearning to stay there. Yearning. He rolls his eyes. I sound like a fucking chick flick. Even if it is the right word. The sound of his heart pounding in his throat is enough to have him jerk away before Van can possibly realize. He stares at the trailers and tries to think about bloody corpses, mine disasters, and whatever is going to be in the movie that isn’t making out with Van. “Should have seen this by myself.”
Van turns to him, brown eyes so big, lips stupidly blowjob perfect. “You say something?”
“Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.” Jake grabs for popcorn and stuffs it into his mouth before he blurts out something he’ll regret.
“Sure?” Van shrugs.
Jake recognizes his impossible urge to do that stupid junior high move of yawning and stretching his arm out over his date’s seat. Yeah. No. Don’t do that. He curls himself up, relieved when the theatre goes to black and the movie begins.
“Holy shit.” Van clutches at Jake’s shirt and it would be one of his better fantasies if Van’s glasses weren’t front and forward to indicate that he wasn’t looking at Jake. “Jake. Holy shit. You didn’t tell me.”
Jake inhales so he doesn’t need to breathe too near his friend but then leans in anyway. “Didn’t tell you what?”
“Kerr Smith is in this. Kerr Mother Fucking Smith.” Van’s fingers tighten, and, okay, ow, that’s a little too close to Jake’s nipple to be okay unless there’s going to be kissing to make it better.
“Umm, yeah. I can see that.” Jake covers Van’s hand in his and gently removes it from his shirt. “What of it?” He knows he ought to release the warm fingers tangled with his own, but he doesn’t.
“Don’t you know who he is?”
Jake searches his memory banks, but can only come up with one thing Van and this Kerr Smith guy would have in common. “He played some relative of Casey’s a million years ago on the show. What’s got your knickers in a twist.”
“Are you kidding? He played Jack on Dawson’s Creek. Jack and Danny were the Luke and Noah of prime time. It was huge. I wrote to him and thanked him.” He ducks. “I’m lame.”
“Can’t you two shut up?”
“Go somewhere else to make out, homos.”
Van scrambles backwards, turns to face the angry strangers in the row behind them. “Suck it.”
“Why don’t you? Or, better yet, suck your boyfriend. At least your mouth would be full and you’d stop talking.”
Jake slinks lower in his chair, tugs on their still connected hands. “Stop making a scene, would you? They’re dicks. Leave them alone.”
Van glares once more at the people behind them. “Yeah. Fine.” He stares down. “You know, if you weren’t holding my hand they wouldn’t think we were dating. You shouldn’t have to put up with that kinda shit.”
What if I want to? Jake rolls his eyes. “While I disagree with the assholes usually, for now follow their advice. Shut up.” He lifts the popcorn out of the arm rest and nudges it up. Before he can think too much of his actions, he curls into Van’s body. “Why you gotta be like that, Baby?” Jake makes sure to pitch his voice loud enough for anyone who cares to listen. “I’ll suck your dick when we get home.” He winks at Van’s gaping mouth, ignores the almost physical pain settling in his groin. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
The first half of the movie zips by in a haze of gasps and giggles. Jake hates to think about life imitating art and all that crap, but he really is a movie geek. He spends time trying to figure out how the whole three dimensional thing works, even though he read about it before hand. “Dude, Jensen’s so cool. How much fun would it be to do something like this with him?” An axe flies at their heads. Jake will never admit to the high pitched squeak that exits his mouth. “So cool.”
Van frowns, elbows Jake away from him. “Nearly had me going there. I’m,” he sighs. “I’m not feeling well. If I promise to make it up to you and see it at a later time, do you think we could go?” He peels off his glasses, squinting at the screen like he can light it on fire if he tries hard enough.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? It’s dumb late. And that damn flu is going around. ‘Course we can. I’ll make someone else see this with me if you’re not enjoying yourself.” Jake shrugs on his jacket and stands.
“No, I wanna know who the bad guy is. Fifty says it isn’t Axel.”
“You wish.”
“Sit the fuck down, fag.”
Jake’s fists clench. “Shut the fuck up. We’re leaving.”
Van tugs on Jake. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.” They fumble their way down the aisle to the nearest exit. Once in the light of the hallway, he blinks. “Thanks for that. I’m sorry for being lame.”
“It’s fine. Let’s just get you back to your apartment. I can catch a cab from there or something.” Jake misses the warmth of Van’s body. He knows better than to mention it. There are some secrets meant to be kept just that, secret.
Jake tries to make sense of his own urges as they walk toward the subway. He gives himself the usual lecture about how Luke and Noah are not Van and Jake. Just because they’re a couple sometimes, just because Van likes to tease him about going on dates, just because he can’t remember the last time he looked at a female with anything more than a passing thought. That doesn’t have to mean anything, right? The way their bodies align when they kiss. The way Van adds an extra press of his lips or slip of tongue. That’s because Van’s a good actor. Jake wants to bang his forehead into the filthy safety glass of the train, but he manages to get himself under control.
They walk the two blocks to Van’s apartment building without sharing a single word. Jake follows up the stairs without thinking, hoping maybe that Van will invite him in, will turn to him with big brown eyes, will confess that this isn’t one sided and that he’s just as into Jake as Jake is into him, will say ‘kiss me like you mean it, not like you have to because the script says you have to’.
“Kerr Smith was on As the World Turns? Really?”
Buzz kill. “Yeah. How did you not know that if you’re, like, his number one fan?” He stops the dreams his mind was weaving of soft palms, warm lips and spicy aftershave.
“Did you see him? Did you? He was so good. I mean, no, not really. His character was pretty much a dick, but he did it well, convincingly, y’know?” Van kicks at the worn carpet.
“I guess.” Jake breathes easier when Van ignores his snark. He is not pouting. He isn’t. That would be a bad sign. “It’s cool they were both on soaps and now look at them. Big screen. Big money.” He slurps on his never-ending soda. Why is it so big? Right. Van ordered for him.
“They were. Him and Jensen.” Van sing-songs Jensen’s name.
That is it. Jake’s not sure why he’s so pissed, but goddamn is he ever. “What is your deal, Hansis? I do not have some sort of epic crush on Jensen Ackles. I admire what he’s done, okay. A soap, some smaller parts on shows and movies, and now? Now he’s one half of Supernatural plus this. Maybe I just want to study the guy, okay? Figure out how he did it.”
Van stands outside his apartment, back pressed against the wall. Keys dangle in one of the locks on the door. It’s a good thing they aren’t playing poker, because Van’s face holds no secrets. He’s hurt, angry, and lashing out. “Right. I’m sure. It couldn’t be some weird character transference or anything, right?”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Mr. Oh-my-god-Kerr-Smith-is-soooooo-dreamy. I wish I could have had him to kiss me at prom.”
Van blanches. “I am not having this argument in my hallway. Get inside.” He shoves open the door.
“We don’t argue. We disagree loudly. Now tell me what your damage is.”
Van doesn’t speak as he walks to his kitchen. He remains silent as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out two beers. No words exit his goddamned beautiful mouth as he pops the tops off the two bottles and thrusts one into Jake’s hand. He pounds a third of his. “All I’m saying is that it’s obvious, okay. And I get it. Really. Enough of my friends watch him, his green eyes, and his southern accent, and his bow legs, and his lips.” He takes another loud swallow. “It’s,” he frowns. “It’s just. You’re so talented, Jake. And I know all about method acting. It’s not surprising that you’d have at least one girl crush.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Well it’s true. Isn’t it?”
Jake deflates. “Okay, yeah. Part of it. What guy doesn’t dream about getting head from a gorgeous mouth or plowing one of the hottest asses on television?” Jake follows Van’s lead and gulps his beer. The bottle is cool under his too hot, too big, too awkward hands. “But you’re a moron if you think I want fucking Jensen Ackles.”
“Oh no. That’s exactly what you do want. You want to fuck Jensen Ackles. Stop lying.”
Jake stalks forward until he is standing in front of Van. Frustration back full force and riding under his skin like electricity seeking an outlet. He curls his fingers around Van’s wrist, halts the beer from reaching to his lips. “Look at me. Listen closely.” He waits until he could drown in the depth of Van’s eyes. “The guy in my dreams with the mouth and the ass. Sometimes he’s fucking me. Sometimes he’s blowing me. Sometimes it’s the reverse. Whatever is happening, and trust me, there have been plenty of scenarios to chose from, it isn’t with Jensen Ackles.” Jake holds his breath. What more is there to say? His back aches with tension. He has a rubber band stretched to breaking running down his spine and another between his shoulder blades.
He knows he shouldn’t, but Jake continues speaking. His mouth gets the better of his brain sometimes. “So go on. Tell me about watching Dawson’s Creek. Tell me about how Kerr Smith made you weep as Jack. I’ll understand, because what he did? That was huge. I get all that. But don’t tell me that it doesn’t help that he’s tall, dark and hot as hell. Don’t tell me that you weren’t watching what we saw of My Bloody Valentine and thinking ‘I wish he had been my boyfriend’. Even if he is ten years older than you, he’s younger than Laurence Lau. Want to go see if you can get him to come back and replace me? Want to bet he won’t mind extra garlic, blue cheese, anchovies and caramelized onions on his pizza?” Jake releases Van’s wrist. He squeezed tight and hopes he didn’t leave bruises. Christ. He hadn’t been jealous like this in forever, but he can’t think of what else the feeling could be. “I should go. I’m sorry. I never should have said any of that. I’m just. Fuck. I’m sorry. That’s it.”
God. He’s an asshole. A complete asshole. Not only did Van not deserve that, but Jake never meant to fess up to that. He places his bottle on the kitchen table. He needs to get out of here before Van punches him. He needs to get out of there before he punches himself. His heart pounds. Each step is the length of a football field, through quicksand, and he cannot move fast enough.
“Jake.”
He freezes.
“Don’t go.”
*****
Every muscle in Jake’s body is rigid. “Come here.” Van watches his friend shake his head in the negative. “No. You don’t get to make the decision any more.” He closes the distance between them, his chest almost touching Jake’s back. “You don’t get to say something like that and walk away. Not if you want to be able to work with me ever again. Not if you think we can ever get past this.” He chews on his lip. “Don’t you want to? Get past this, I mean?”
Again, Jake head moves left to right to left.
“You don’t?” His knees weaken. He stumbles back to his couch. “What are you saying?”
“It’s not fair to you.” Jake still won’t look at him, but he hasn’t made a further move toward the door. His voice is so low, so shattered. “It’s not fair to you or me. I’ll, I don’t know, I’m not on contract. I’ll tell them something came up and they need to write Noah out of the script. Maybe instead of Reg dying, it could be me?”
“Jake, talk to me. Stop, sit down. You’re talking crazy talk.” Van leans forward, grabs Jake’s wrist, pulls back with all his weight. A spill of arms and legs and shoving backward doesn’t make it less messy, less awkward. They vaguely collect themselves, but Van is straddling Jake’s lap once they’re sitting. “Okay.” He laughs nervously. “That wasn’t exactly my intention, but now that I’m here...” He runs his hands through Jake’s hair. So much softer without all that stupid product in it. He tilts Jake’s chin. “What’s going on? Normally we’re on the same page, and right now I don’t think we’re even in the same book, maybe not even the same bookstore.”
Jake swallows. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.” Van grins. “And hey, it’s not like you can go anywhere. Kinda got you pinned.”
Jake’s hands bend around Van’s waist. His thumbs ride low on the edge of Van’s jeans. “I could move you, if I wanted.”
“But?”
“But nothing.”
“No. There was more to that statement. You’re right, you could move me if you wanted. But you haven’t. So does that mean?” His thighs tighten over Jake’s. His fingers twist in Jake’s curls like he always make Luke do. “Does that mean you don’t want to move me? Does that mean you like having me in spread across you?”
Jake’s cheeks pink and this time Van is sure it has absolutely nothing to do with Jensen fucking Ackles. “Maybe?”
“Maybe?”
Van’s tongue dries watching Jake flop his head backward, expose his neck. He rocks forward, not helping the tight pull across his jeans, but moving his lips that much closer to Jake’s collarbone. “I’m not Jensen.” He mouths damply up toward Jake’s jaw.
“Nnngh” Jake’s fingers tighten. His thumbs slide under Van’s jeans, pet at soft skin. “I never wanted you to be.” He tips his head, gives Van better purchase. “I’m,” his breath hitches. “I’m not Kerr Smith.
“He’s married. Has a family. I don’t want him. Never did. Just his character, you know?” Van traces the curve of Jake’s ear with his tongue. “Tell me, tell me I’m not making an ass of myself. Tell me this is what you want as well.”
Jake thrusts up, grinds Van down at the same time. No hiding, no pretense. Denim hides a lot, but not that much “Not just you. I was never going to say anything. Thought you would laugh at me.” He noses at Van until he moves, ghosts his lips over Van’s. “It’s been almost a year. And I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.”
Their breathing evens until Van isn’t sure if it is oxygen or Jake he is pulling into his lungs. “It’s been a day, a week, a month, forever. God, you don’t even know.” His confession released from its prison in his diaphragm, he isn’t sure what happens now.
“So what now?”’
Van smiles, and then laughs. He can’t explain it to Jake, but that one question is so much better. “I have no idea. But I think we’re finding that page again. I was asking myself the same thing.”
Jake’s mouth tips into that smile he only ever gives Van. “That’s good?”
“Very good.” Van leans closer
“So, umm, I’m going to kiss you? If that’s okay.”
“Very okay.” He watches the intake of Jake’s breath, rubs denim covered thigh against denim covered thigh. Cotton shirt presses against cotton shirt. The heat between them builds. This isn’t television, it isn’t staged, but the comfort of them knowing their blocking adds to the intensity. Jake’s mouth is softer, more deliberate than Noah’s when it opens. Van’s tongue traces the slick inner walls, the bite of sharp incisors, the flavor of soda and beer. He swallows Jake’s moan with his own, melts into the tangle of their tongues, and the press of their bodies.
Jake shifts away. He presses a kiss to Van’s forehead. “I’m still not sure what just happened, and I need to catch my breath. I should probably go home before this goes further. Hey, no, don’t pull back.” He tugs at Van’s shirt, brings their bodies flush. “You have to know, whatever this is, whatever it becomes, I can tell you this much. It isn’t a girl crush.”
*****
Jake Silbermann became a fan of Van Hansis. 4:37am
