One the Fuck Up scale of one to ten, with one being forgetting your buddy's birthday, and ten being when you accidentally drop a bomb on the wrong country, Jared figured he was in for a sure seven.

Seven and a half.

Okay fine, eight.

He might not have NATO and countrywide devastation to contend with, but Sandy wouldn't talk to him, and Jensen wouldn't even see him, and really, the politicians had it easy in comparison.

"You're a real dumbass, you know that right?"

They didn't have to deal with Chad, either.

His best friend was on speakerphone, his voice blaring out into the stillness of the room, leaving Jared free to slowly rot into the couch. He'd be the dude no one noticed was dead until the stench from his rotting corpse started to bug the old lady next door.

He sniffled. Aw fuck. He didn't want to be that guy.

"Are you listening to me, JT? JayTeee?" Chad sing-songed down the line.

Jared threw a pillow at the phone and missed by a clear meter. "Fuck off, douchbag." He grumbled. "Lemme rot."

"Tempting." Chad said dryly. "Oh so tempting. Or you know, I could tell Steve where to find you. Dude wants blood man." Chad paused, then cackled. "It's always the quiet ones."

Jared touched his lip. It still smarted. Christian fucking Kane had one hell of a left hook. Should have figured the only reason he'd stopped there was so that Steve could finish him off with a chainsaw.

"Time is it there?" Jared mumbled, gazing blearily at the clock on the wall.

"Ten after four." Chad said brightly. "And yes, that's in the morning you ungrateful fuck."

Right. "Fuck off then." He repeated.

Then Chad sighed, more serious than clownboy. "What the hell were you thinking, man?"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was twenty thousand dollar question.

He wasn't really sure what had run through his mind, though he blamed it all on the pink and yellow sour sherbet balls he'd eaten for breakfast. This is what happened when he didn't eat five square meals a day. His brain ran off coffee and sugar, and that was never a good move, let alone a smart one.

Because let's face it, if he was going to have a one night stand was anyone, cheat on Sandy and generally fuck up his life beyond repair, the last person on the planet he should have done the deed with was Jensen fucking Ackles.

There was a whole list of reasons why it was a bad, bad idea, up there at the top being A; Sandy, and B; not gay, but hovering somewhere around D; was the fact that Jensen was more than a little in love with him.

And he even had reassurance on that last one from a good authority, if Kane could ever be considered such.

So Jensen + Sex = Bad.

Only it hadn't been so much bad as really, really good.

He was, of course, the douchebag he called Chad on being. Whilst his buddy might have hooked up with Miss Jailbait 2007, he hadn't gotten wasted and fucked his co-star in the bathroom of Vancouver's classiest steakhouse whilst their friends sat out front discussing Chris' latest venture. Nor had Chad even been caught on camera fucking said co-star, thus spectacularly fucking up just about everything in his life, and then some.

And the worst of it, yes, he'd be a man and admit that it did actually get worse, was the look on Jensen's face when Jared had desperately tried to convince Sandy that it didn't mean anything, I love you!, because that? Killed him.

Of course Jensen had vanished into thin air, reappearing on Steve's doorstep a week later, liquor practically seeping out of his pours, and not giving a flying donkey fuck that Jared had called everyone he had ever met -and some random people from the phone book- looking for him, and was just contemplating putting Jensen's picture on the side of a milk carton when Christian Kane turned up on his porch and smacked the ever loving crap out of him.

So now Sandy had unhooked her phone, his agent was likely planning on running to Mexico with all his money, Eric wanted his testicles on a plate and was probably in league with Chris to make that wish a reality, and the fans couldn't decide if they wanted to scream 'I fucking told you so' or hunt him down and deliver his chopped up body to Jensen along with a gift basket of fruit and the odd pair of panties.

And Jensen…well he was in hiding in one of several places, with friends popping out of the woodworks to offer him shelter from the pap, Jared, and his less than amused family.

So yeah, Jared really wasn't sure what he'd been thinking.

________________________________________

That was a lie.

Partly.

He still wasn't sure why he had decided to kiss Jensen there, then, though he was still willing to blame booze and the aforementioned candy, but he did know that as soon as Jensen was kissing him back, not kicking him in the nuts, there had been some giant switch that had been flipped in his head.

He had gone from wanna taste to wanna touch, lick, kiss, brand, fuck mineminemine, and Jensen had fucking let him.

He'd like to make that point perfectly clear.

Yes, he was a douchbag/cunt/asshole/fuckhead and any number of other insulting slang words, but he wasn't a rapist. That part was pretty important. Jensen hadn't said no, hadn't struggled or resisted or cried or done anything even close to indicating that he didn't want Jared's mouth on his, or his dick in his ass.

In fact it had been Jensen who'd pushed him into the bathroom cubicle. Then he'd shoved Jared's jeans to his knees and done this thing with that pretty pretty mouth of his, and how the hell was Jared supposed to think clearly when he had his cock in Jensen's mouth?

After that it had been pretty simple. Insert tab A into slot B and fuck on through until orgasm.

It must have hurt, with only a spit and a prayer for prep, but Jensen had thrust back into every damn snap of Jared's hips, back arched like a prima ballerina, hands braced against the wall of the cubicle.

Truth was if felt good. Better than good. So good in fact that when the stall besides them banged shut, he was too far gone to be smart, and had looked up right into the lenses of the camera being held over the other side.

The asshole wasn't even a pap. He was some dickwad taking a leak and listening in on things he shouldn't, and he probably hadn't even had a clue just who it was he'd snapped until he'd been long out of killing range.

And Jensen, fuck, Jensen hadn't known a thing. He'd stumbled back to the table, glowing like a Christmas tree until the pictures hit the internet, then the gossip rags, and the shit really hit the fan.

Sandy had called Jared every name under the sun, curses and insults tumbling from sweet, kind lips and her small hands balled up in hate. Jensen had charged on into the kitchen, eyes wide, just in time for Jared to open his big dumb mouth.

Things got gradually worse from there.

________________________________________

He tracked Sandy down. Blackmailed Tom into taking care of his dogs, and paid through the fucking nose to get a last minute flight to LA. They'd been sold out in business, so he spent the three hour trip with his knees by his ears and a screaming child on either side.

Fucking karma.

Maya looked as if she wanted to scratch his eyes out with her press on nails, her hair in rollers and her face covered in some funky green shit women liked to slap on. Jared looked at his watch. Midnight. Oops.

"You're a fucking jerk."

Like he hadn't heard that one before.

Normally he'd be a gentleman and ask permission before barging in, but then normally he wouldn't be standing on his girlfriend's -ex-girlfriend?- front porch, staring down the boogey (wo)man. He'd be inside, eating chips.

"So she's in then." He grunted, barging past Maya, who was Sandy sized and small enough to fit in his back pocket.

Sandy appeared in the doorway, pissed as hell. Maya smirked, "You want me to get the bat?"

Because a broken knee would make the day so much better.

Sandy shook her head. "You took your time." She said, in that soft, little girl voice of hers that made Jared want to wrap her up and take her home.

Jared shuffled from toe to toe. "Jensen went AWOL. I had to make sure he'd not driven into a tree some somethin'. Your friends are more responsible than his."

"Don't count on that." Maya muttered under her breath.

Sandy frowned, and Jared felt like he'd gone and sat one some little girl's kitten. Seeing her upset always made his guts twist up and ache. "You said you didn't love him." She accused quietly, which was somehow worse than the screaming.

Jared held out his hands and lied through his teeth. "I don't."

"You sure?"

No. Not even close to sure.

There was a great big whole inside of him that used to be filled with bad jokes and awkward smiles, dumbass pranks and stakes cooked at three am. It was Jensen sized and gaped like a wound slowly filling with blood.

Did he love Jensen? Well sure.

Was he in love with Jensen?

"You're not sure, are you?"

And there, right there, was his problem.

________________________________________

Tracking Jensen down was a little more difficult. The fucker was like some super spy who had friends and family and FBI contacts all over the damn place, and he was as likely to be in Timbuktu as he was Ass Crack, Texas.

Kane would only growl at him before hanging up, and he quiet honestly didn't dare call Steve. David and Wentworth made token efforts to sound polite when they told him to fuck off, whilst Kristen and Ali were the moderators of the 'We Hate Jared Padalecki (And Want To Cut His Dick Off)' online chat group. Jason wasn't answering his phone, Jensen's parents were disappointed, which hurt almost as bad as his momma's confusion, and Tyra tried to curse him in Creole.

Which left Jessica, who was no saint herself, and up to her eyeballs in nappies when she snapped, "He's with Michael you stupid cunt. Aw sweetie no, don't pee now…"

Michael. Weatherly.

Jared shuddered.

He hated Michael fucking Weatherly.

Just for the record.

________________________________________

He had the whole thing rehearsed. Flew in to Seattle and crashed with Jeff, who was the only man on the planet who didn't seem to hate him.

"You're an ass. You fucked up. Welcome to the real world, kiddo. Now grab me a fucking beer."

Oddly, that made him feel better. He threw Jeff his Millers and crashed out on the couch, Bisou lolling over his knee, her dark eyes contemplative. "So I need to fix this."

Jeff nodded. "You do. Plans for that?"

Jared though, then frowned. "Throw myself on his mercy?"

"Might want something a little more decisive." Jeff advised, taking a slow sip of beer.

"Sweep him off his feet and confess my undying love?"

"Which would only work if there was undying love to confess to." Damn Jeff for being rational.

Jared shuffled on the couch, trying not to nudge Jeff's girl. "Who says there isn't?"

Jeff shrugged. "Dunno. Do you wake up every morning and think about him?"

"Maybe…sometimes? I guess. I don't really pay much attention to what I'm thinking in the morning. It's usually food orientated." But Jensen always bought him breakfast, since the bagel place outside his apartment was so much better than the one by Jared's. Breakfast and coffee, and sometimes candy.

"Do you miss him when he's not there? Do you feel the need to reach out and touch him when he is?"

No fair. Two questions at once. Fine, yes, he missed Jensen. Bleeding gaping wound included. And okay he touched the guy a lot. He was a huggy feely person, and Jensen was just…huggable. Squishable. He fit right under Jared's arm like some neat little puzzle piece.

His shoulders slumped, and Jeff smiled serenely. "And if he never forgave you? Never spoke to you again?"

Just thinking about it felt worse than dying.

________________________________________

So there were two reasons why Jared hated Michael Weatherly.

Fine, more than two, but in the interests of keeping to the point, the main two were more than adequate.

Firstly, he and Jensen were an item. Former. They'd fucked. A lot, if the stories were true, and that alone was due cause for immense dislike.

Secondly, and most importantly in Jared's eyes, Jensen refused to talk about him. Which set Michael apart from other exes. They were men, yes, they compared notes. But there were no notes for Michael, and that meant only two things; Jensen still had a thing for the guy, or Michael deserved to be on the receiving end of a Christian Kane roundhouse.

He privately figured on the last part, and barely kept his fist by his side when Weatherly opened the door to his apartment and silently looked Jared up and down.

Jared glared, pissed as hell when it seemed to have no effect.

Not letting Jared in, Michael held the door open. No sign of Jensen. "You realize you have ruined his career. You've turned him in to the thing he's spent his whole life trying to avoid being."

Jared's jaw clicked. "And what's that?" He ignored the career jibe. Eric was trying to salvage that street, though he wasn't holding his breath. He had enough to feel guilty about without adding that little straw.

Michael opened the door to let him in. "The cheap fuck."

Jared cringed and followed him inside.

Jensen was sat on the couch, staring out on the Seattle skyline, calm and quiet and Jensen-like, and the big gaping wound was slapped with a nice clean band aide.

That speech he had planned?

Totally forgotten it already.

So Jensen started for him. "I ain't mad at you."

Jared hesitated, not sure if he should shuffle forwards or not, until Michael shoved him from behind then vanished into the kitchen. "Oh."

Oh. Smooth. Very smooth.

Jensen quirked his head and met Jared's gaze on the reflection on the window. "Lord knows I tried to be, but it ain't your fault."

"I-"

"Didn't invite the guy to take a photo."

"Well no…"

"And it's not like you posted it all over the internet."

"Not really, no…but…"

"So it ain't your fault. Ain't mine either, but what you gonna do about it?" Jensen turned then, his face exactly the same as it had been the day he's left, though Jared was sure he'd gained another freckle on the tip of his nose.

He sighed and shuffled forwards, taking a seat on the end of the couch. "I led you on…made you think…"

Jensen's lips twisted into a somewhat bitter smile. "That what, you loved me? It was sex, Jared. Good sex, but still just sex."

Well that was a goddamn lie if ever he'd heard one. He'd seen the look in Jensen's eyes when Jared had rather brutally denied any and all feelings for him.

So what if pictures of them fucking had been plastered all over the world? That was so not the issue any more. It had stopped being the issue right after Jared had realized that the prospect of Jensen never speaking to him again was a whole lot more frightening than the thought of what he might do if he never worked in front of a camera again.

"I do love you." Jared said quietly, reaching for Jensen's hand and pulling it into his lap.

Jensen's smile remained just as twisted. "Nah, you don't, but I'm okay with that."

The band aid was soaking up with blood pretty fast.

He swallowed, and it hurt, something wedged in his throat that wouldn't go away. "What do I have to do to convince you? I'll do anything, Jensen. Anything you ask me to."

Jensen's smile dropped and he looked down at his hand held in Jared's paws. "Leave, and don't come back." He whispered.

The lump in his throat choked him as Jared drew in a ragged breath. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes." Quiet. Final.

Jared nodded slowly, and raised Jensen's hand to his lips. He wouldn't say goodbye. He couldn't. It would kill him.

He left quietly, not meeting Jensen's eyes, not meeting Michael's, and took the elevator all the way down to the lobby.

The doors opened with a friendly ding that made him want to cry, and Jensen was standing there, panting slight. He shoved Jared back into the elevator and slammed his hand on the emergency button as soon as the door were closed.

"What about Sandy?" he demanded, hands flat on Jared's chest.

Jared shook his head. "There is no Sandy."

Jensen shook his head wildly. "I must be fucking out of my mind." He muttered to himself, and then he was kissing Jared hard, stitching up the hole inside Jared's chest with each messy brush of their lips.

Wrapping his arms around Jensen's back, Jared fitted them together again, two puzzle parts connecting. He rested his chin on Jensen's shoulder and held on tight. "What are we gonna do?" He whispered.

"The fuck if I know." Jensen sighed. "Start out own internet forum?"

"If the show gets cancelled we could always sell photos to the tabloids." Jared suggested, his hands curled around the wings of Jensen's shoulders.

Jensen snorted and buried his face in Jared's shirt. "You really are a dumbass, you know that right?"

Jared nodded. So he had heard.