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Imprint Part Three
The nightmare comes at dawn.
It starts off sweet, Jared wrapped around him. Fingertips tracing every inch of his skin, playful tongue playing connect-the-dots with hated freckles. But then instead of gentle butterfly's-wing touches the hands are dragging, clawing, ragged fingernails biting into his skin and he's pinned down, there's no escape, There is no escape from the Wrath of the Lord!
He and Jared jerk awake at the same moment, panting in tandem. He stiffens when Jared shifts, tucking him closer, tighter against his chest. "Whoa, okay. You don't have to be the little spoon if you don't want. I'm flexible." He presses a teasing kiss to Jensen's shoulder and rolls over, presenting Jensen with a long expanse of caramel-toned skin to snuggle up to, and no accusing eyes to meet. "Sorry. Nightmare," he breathes against Jared's hair.
"I kind of figured. I'm a good listener," he adds, the if you want to talk about it, thankfully unspoken.
Jensen's chuckle is bitter, with a manic edge. "You really won the genetic lottery with me, huh? Acute Lund's, tied to a straight guy with more baggage than Samsonite."
"Oh, you ain't so bad," Jared drawls, and Jensen can taste the certainty under the teasing tone. "Nice to look at, for sure, and cozy to cuddle with. You like my dogs, you can put up with Chad, and I have it on good authority that you sing like an angel, or will, once you get comfy enough with me to let me hear you. Thinkin' you got the raw end of the deal with me, though, I'm no prize. Sweat like a pig, hyper, can't carry a tune in a bucket, and nobody's ever accused me of bein' the tidiest roommate. I hog the covers, too."
"I was molested when I was a kid," Jensen blurts against the nape of Jared's neck. Awesome, now I can add sudden verbal diarrhea to my list of faults. "A guy. An older guy."
Jared doesn't freeze; it's too gradual for that. He stills, Jensen not realizing Jared was moving until he stops, the slow way he was rubbing the arches of his feet against each other, one hand fiddling with the hem of the sheet, wrapping and twisting his fingers up in it. "Say something."
"I would give anything for you not to have gone through that," he says after a minute. "I'm not sorry, because I didn't do anything wrong and neither did you."
"You don't feel sorry for me?"
"You don't want my pity, and it wouldn't change anything. I admire you, Jensen. I am proud to know you. I was before I knew."
"I never told anyone."
"Well, now you have."
"You're not going to...ask me anything?" Jensen was expecting an interrogation, one he couldn't handle. It's why he's always kept his mouth shut up until now.
"Nope. Even though I run my mouth a lot, I'm a good listener. I can hear what people don't say. You don't want to talk about it. So we won't. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."
"It just kind of...came out."
"I have that affect on people," Jared says, he's clearly trying to lighten the mood and it's a poor attempt but Jensen goes along with it anyway. He's been sick of this subject for years. "They start blurting out shit they never meant to say just to try an' shut me up."
"Does it work?"
"Nope. I could power all of LA with the kinetic energy of my mouth, if they could just figure out where to put the turbines."
They finish filming. They celebrate. They have dinner with Adrianne and her boyfriend at a sidewalk cafe in Santa Monica, and carefully angled photos of Jared and Addie laughing, along with a blurry shot of Jared following her out of his trailer, shirtless, and one of Addie and Josh at a premiere, hit the internet with speculation in thirty-point bold font. WB STAR'S NEW ROMANCE? PADALECKI LOVE TRIANGLE! Jensen is in a meeting with the Smallville execs, wrapping up end-of-contract details, when he gets the news. His Blackberry alerts him to a new e-mail; his PR shark, Patricia, on the ball as always, has emailed him the links with a quick note: J, media shitstorm re: your new costar. Don't care if it's true or not, your 2 new favorite words are NO COMMENT. Call me ASAP & tell Padawhatever to get a better PR exec. Trish.
Jensen forwards the e-mail to Jared with a note of his own. Worried about you, J.
A few minutes later he gets a reply; DDDD: DUN DUN DUNNN! Drama fo' your mama! It is accompanied by a ridiculous cat macro bearing the caption, OMG NOE WAI !!!!!
At that point Jensen gives up on any pretense of listening to the contract lawyers make lawyer-noises and texts Jared back, This is serious.
Jared's reply is succinct. hahahaha nt rlly
Jared! Stalkerazzi on red alert is a bad idea with our situation.
Jared's response looks like nothing so much as alphabet soup spilled on the screen. tk deep brth b4 u rptr smthng, gt it undr ctrl. hv clld teh advocate, coming-out intrvw l8tr 2day on teh intarwebs. me gay = no prblm. hole thng blown ovr by ths wknd.
Jensen feels a cold chill and fires back, You better be kidding, asshole.
fcking duh, dude. chill. my pr minions on it liek wht on rice, rtrctns evrywhr by 2mrw. xcl teh angry mob, k? njoy mdia crcus, addie thnk iz hlarius.
Jensen really wishes he could take it so lightly. Just a couple of brushes with nasty media speculation had been enough to make him wary when he was younger, and he envies Jared's ability to dismiss it as nothing more than ridiculous farce, fuck, to find it amusing instead of potentially career-damaging. The news that Adrianne, too, is getting a kick out of it, makes Jensen wonder if there's something wrong with him, if he takes the opinions of strangers too seriously even for someone whose livelihood depends on fans. Jared's career is just as solid as his, and he doesn't seem to have nearly given himself an ulcer getting it there.
But no, Patricia's concerned too, that some of the mud being slung might stick to him, and even though he sometimes thinks she's a little uptight, he trusts her thirty years of experience in the business. And up until a few weeks ago, Jared'd had the same girlfriend for most of his career. He doesn't know how nasty a breakup or affair in the public eye can be.
All the same, even if it would be naïve...Jensen kind of wishes he didn't care either.
It turns out that Jared's right. The retractions do get issued, the network shrugs it off, and except for Addie having what she says is a 'completely dumb macho male posturing' argument with her boyfriend, no one seems to really care. Jensen knows there's probably still speculation, but he doesn't check. Jared and Addie, on the other hand, create sockpuppets and have a badly-spelled rumor-off in one of the fan forums, coming up with theories involving surprise pregnancies and long-lost evil twins, until even the fans tell them to stop drinking the Kool-Aid.
Patricia, working on the theory that the best defense is a good offense, sends him to a flurry of events with various female friends. Jensen doesn't know what she's attempting to accomplish, actually, because he hasn't told her about Jared. He knows it isn't smart, but he isn't in the mood to be lectured for something that he can't change. And Jared's house is beginning to feel more and more like a sanctuary, a safe haven from stupid Hollywood games. He lets the scripts his agent sends him for summer projects pile up unread and takes the dogs to the park with Jared.
Jensen knows Jared's wide awake. Their sleeping patterns have synchronized over the past couple of weeks, which is kind of nice except for Jared's tendency to get up way too fucking early and go running. But Jared's not getting up, shoving his feet into dirty Reeboks and whistling for his dogs. No, he's lying still, face tucked into the crook of Jensen's neck, not moving at all as though he's afraid of scaring Jensen away.
Jensen can feel his erection pressed against Jared's hip, Jared's own aganist his thigh, knows it's more than morning wood, knows Jared will ignore it, obey their unspoken agreement, made the night of Jensen's nightmare and confession. But he doesn't want Jared to ignore it. He's so tired of letting a few hours of his life control him fifteen years later. Fucking sick of it, and he wants Jared to make the first move, take the responsibility for all of this out of his hands. Wants to be able to tell himself, Jared wanted it, and I just let him, because I love him. It would even be okay to enjoy it then; his motives would be pure, and he could believe the rest of it was simple human physiology, reaction to stimulus and the fault of a condition he was born with and never asked for. Not his fault, not his choice.
And he knows, too, that there's something wrong with wanting to have his choices taken away. That Jared would never, ever do that. Not in a million years. So he swallows hard and reaches down, cups Jared's hip in his palm, squeezes gently.
"Jen?" So much caution there.
"Please, Jay. I want-"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm..." But his mouth refuses to shape the lie, and he knows Jared won't believe it anyway. "No, fuck, 'course I'm not sure, I'm never gonna be, can we just get it the fuck over with?" he mutters, voice cracking. "I'll be sure after." His grip on Jared's hip tightens; he's pleading with his touch for Jared to make everything okay. Jared's so damn good at making everything okay, even when Jensen feels like his life since they met is spinning completely out of control.
"Okay, okay," Jared rumbles, soothing him with stroking hands and half-smiles that he can feel against his skin even if he won't look up, won't meet Jared's eyes. "So soft, Jen, you feel so good. Never had anyone fit me so perfect." He rocks their hips together. "My Jen." He presses harder, and suddenly Jensen is on his back with Jared sprawled on top of him, and Jared's so much bigger than he is, he feels like a child...his breath stutters and Jared mistakes it for arousal, presses harder. "Yes, there, God-"
-A heavy body above him, panting, grunting. "Godless little whore, sinful, see the way you look at me, Jenny-"
When Jensen comes back to himself he's curled into a ball up by the headboard, clutching a pillow to his stomach like it's a teddy bear. Jared's lying next to him, on what is normally Jensen's side of the bed, so he doesn't block the route to the door. He's watching Jensen carefully, but he's on his belly, hands resting in loose fists on the small of his own back. It can't be comfortable, but it's completely nonthreatening. Even if Jared wanted to hurt him, Jensen knows he could be off the bed and out the door before Jared even pushed himself up.
"I'm not going to ask if you're okay," Jared says in a low, measured voice. "I know the answer to that. I am going to tell you two things. Hating someone for what they did to you, however much they may deserve it, is like drinking poison and expecting it to kill your enemy. The only one you're hurting is yourself. And getting angry with yourself for not being over it is only going to make it harder to get over, with the same result. Let it out. Get mad at your parents for not stopping it, at God for making a world where people do awful things to kids. Hell, get mad at me for triggering a flashback; I can take your anger a million times easier than you looking at me like that."
"How did I look at you?"
"Like a trapped animal waiting for death. I won't force you to tell me what happened, Jen, but I'll listen if you ever want to talk. I won't make you meet my eyes, or we can both pretend I'm asleep. You can tell me over the phone or write it down. I can guess until I've got it. Hell, once you trust me enough to let me in, you'll be able to think it at me without ever having to say the words." He takes a deep ragged breath. "Not the issue. I had a point."
"And?" Jensen manages to say when Jared is silent for long minutes, because Jared being silent is some kind of crime against nature.
"I need you to tell me what your triggers are, even if you can't or won't tell me how you got them. I need you to trust me that much, trust that once I know them I wouldn't use them against you. Because I would never hurt you on purpose, and I hate doing it by accident."
"Can you...close your eyes," Jensen blurts out the last three words, telling, not asking. His hands are shaking. Jared closes his eyes and turns his head away. "Saying Jesus, or Christ, or God, during sex," he says as dispassionately as he can. As though he is making a grocery list. "Beards. I don't like beards, can't stand to feel them on my skin. Don't...don't pin me down. It's fine for a scene, at work. But at home, don't pin me, not even play-fighting. Don't pull my hair. I mean, I keep it short, so you can't, but...don't. And don't call me Jenny. Ever."
"Okay," Jared says after a long pause, as though he was waiting in case there was more. He turns back toward Jensen and opens his eyes. "I'll try to remember about the God thing. I tend to run my mouth in bed, so I might slip up. I'll start trying not to take the Lord's name in vain at all, and we can get a swear jar. Five bucks in it every time I forget. I hate growing facial hair, it fucking itches and I look like a puppy with mange, so that's not a problem. I like your hair, might run my fingers though it sometimes or rub the nape of your neck, but I'll stop tuggin' on it to get your attention. It's probably fucking annoying anyway, so it's a habit I should break. I didn't mean to pin you down, and next time I'll make sure you're on top of me if we're making out or whatever. And I won't call you Jenny. Ever."
Jensen's shaking. Jared's low, calm voice, outlining all the things he's willing to do for Jensen, no questions asked, as though there's nothing strange about it at all, is like the slow release of pus and old blood from an infected wound. He wants it out, to draw the rest of the poison. To have it said out loud, just once, even if he's not the one who says it. "Guess," he says through tight lips. "Please, guess, Jared, say it so I don't have to."
"You were young. Not a teenager yet." Jensen nods, buries his face in the pillow he's still clutching. "Eleven?" Pause. "Twelve?" Jensen nods again. "Your parents trusted him, and he told you they wouldn't believe you." Another nod. "And you can't stand for anyone to say the Lord's name while they're touching you because he did that. He twisted it, calling on God while he hurt you." Jensen nods miserably. Jared's so close to it now, and he just wants to get it over with. "He twisted it because he was someone in your church," Jared says in tones of dawning horror. "Your priest? Jen, was it?"
Jensen shrinks away from Jared. It's the pathetic Catholic cliché, the choir boy and Father Bad-Touch, and he's dirty, god, Jared will never want to touch him again and they have to, they're bound to each other for the rest of their lives and Jensen will have to suffer Jared's disgust every day of it, that's his punishment for being wicked...
"Jen. Jen, look at me."
He looks, sees Jared's eyes blazing with righteous anger. But when he dares to reach out to Jared with that other sense that's like touching but not, like touching Jared's soul, he sees it for what it is. Jared not angry at him, but on his behalf. A white knight straining to go slay dragons. He barks out a thready, hysterical laugh as he falls into Jared's arms.
"If I thought it would help," Jared vows, cheek pressed against the top of his head, "I'd kill him myself."
"There's no point." Jensen's amazed he can talk about it; but he feels lighter, lighter than he has in years. "He was in a car accident when I was thirteen. Quadriplegic, with limited use of two fingers. The whole congregation looks up to him, brave Father Preston. Still so much faith in God, still ministering to his flock. He's a hypocrite, but he's not capable of hurting anyone anymore."
"He's still hurting you," Jared says softly. "But like I said. I don't think him dying would help."
The WB Upfronts is like every dream Jensen ever had about making it, since his first high school play. He's learned since then that blinding camera flashes and a hundred reporters shouting questions is not as much fun as it looks on TV, but still. He rests his open palm over the steady beat of Jared's heart and grins like he just won a million dollars, and Jared tugs him closer with the arm draped over his shoulders until they're standing hip to hip, answering every question with awesome and we just clicked and dream come true, and maybe dealing with the press is actually kind of fun when he gets to do it with Jared.
A lot of things are turning out to be actually kind of fun, if he gets to do them with Jared. Stupid shit like mini golf and Guitar Hero tournaments; Jared's willingness to act like a complete spaz in the pursuit of having fun gets Jensen to loosen up a little, too. He thinks about what Lee said, about having someone who's there for you no matter what. It's not nearly as scary as it seemed back then, God, was it only a couple of months ago? And then there's a microphone shoved in his face, and a reporter is shouting something. He only catches the last bit, "-two of you sleeping together?"
It's like a glassful of ice water sloshed in his face. Everything stops, the world on pause, and when Jensen can breathe again, the press is waiting for them to say something, sharks scenting blood in the water.
"No comment." That's Jared, voice even, frowning at the reporter. "Even an actor has the right to a private life. I'm not going to encourage the press to ask questions like that, or the public to care about the answers."
And that's good, couldn't have been better if he was coached on the response by his publicist. Maybe he was, Jensen thinks. He still hasn't let Jared into his head all the way, doesn't know how he could ever trust someone else that much, and that means Jared still has secrets too.
But the guy's wearing a TMZ jacket, which means of course he won't let it go at that, edging closer and remarking slyly, "That's not a 'no.' Is there more than just brotherly love on the set of Supernatural?"
"If my co-star was female you wouldn't be asking that," Jared points out, and he still doesn't sound mad, voice firm but unemotional like he's making a point.
The reporter rolls his eyes. "Well, duh."
"Who I'm dating shouldn't become more important if that significant other happened to be male. Equal rights isn't just about being politically correct. The media lauds itself for being liberal and crucifies anyone who isn't. Are you saying that's all a lie?"
And damn, he's good. Even in the midst of the panic that's frozen Jensen's smile on his face in a sickly parody of itself, he can admire Jared. He's smirking, just enough to show that he finds the whole thing beneath his notice, and no celebrity in danger of being outed could manage that calm (except Jared, apparently, who is a better actor than Jensen ever guessed). Jensen knows he needs to say something too if he doesn't want to see footage of his best deer-in-the-headlights impression all over YouTube. "Or is this just because you couldn't think of a question that's actually worth the airtime, so you decided to go for the cheap shot?" Jensen laughs a little, and the assembled reporters titter nervously too. "What's next, small penis jokes?"
More laughter, deflection for the win! And even though he knows it isn't over, he grins at Jared and they head inside, where he knows the execs will be anxiously waiting with their Blackberrys, in case they have to throw lawyers at the problem.
Kripke is fidgeting, wearing the anxious expression of a high school nerd who knows it's only a matter of time before the football team finds him and stuffs him in a locker. "I never thought it would get out this soon. How did he even think to ask that? I thought he was going to bring up the photos of Jared and Adrianne from ONTD."
Jared's mouth purses, pensive, but he only says, "It's TMZ, man, they're total gossip whores. Don't worry about it."
"Fuck worry, Jared, this show is my baby!"
"Eric, calm down. No such thing as bad publicity, remember? This just gives us a captive audience of all the Clark/Lex fangirls, you know that."
"Yeah, about that," Kripke says after he has a moment to repress his panicking flail. "It looks like we'll be filming up north too, we don't have the budget for LA and Vancouver's better at pretending to be other cities anyway."
"And there's a distinct lack of tabloid reporters in Canada, so relax," Jensen tells him, all the while wishing he could take his own advice.
The night is like the calm in the eye of the hurricane. Jensen knows this isn't going to go away as easily as the Jared-and-Adrianne thing, no matter how skillfully Jared handled that asshole from TMZ. Three months ago he probably would have had a panic attack. Now they duck out early from the network gala and pick up Indian food on their way home. "The couch is feeling neglected, Jensen," Jared informs him with all apparent seriousness. "It thinks we don't love it anymore. It needs quality time."
Jensen rolls his eyes so hard he's surprised they don't pop out. "Okay then."
"No cell phones during quality time. Turn it off. I promise the world will still be ending tomorrow."
Oh, bad idea. But Jared's right, there's nothing they can do about it now. The shit's hit the fan, and in the morning they'll be able to see how far it sprayed. He turns his phone off and tosses it on the coffee table. "Do the dogs need to go out?"
"Naw, Tracy took them while we were gone. 'Sides, they're good little couch potatoes, arencha?" Jared coos. "That's right, that's my little Peeka-tater."
"Just so you know, if you ever call me a cutesy food-related name, we're over."
"So noted. Cupcake." Jared grins at him. "Jammies?"
"Yes please."
When they're settled onto the couch in ugly plaid pajama pants under Nana Padalecki's quilt, takeout containers in hand, Jared reaches for the remote and says, "So, what do you think?"
Jensen blows out a breath. "I think I'm happier now, even with all the crazy, than I've been in years."
"Yeah?" Jared's smile is soft, shy. "Me too. I told you I prayed for this, for Lund's, and maybe that matters and maybe not. I just know there's no one else I'd rather be genetically shackled to for the rest of my life." After a moment of them making calf-eyes at each other, Jared says, "But actually, what I meant was do you want to watch American Sellout or Next Top Crackwhore?"
And Jensen completely cracks his shit up.
It's not until Jared's having dinner with his agent the next day that Jensen remembers he turned off his phone. As soon as he powers it up, it shrills at him and he drops it. "Shit! Shit shit fuck!" He picks it up and examines it, but except for slightly more dog hair than he'd really like, it seems fine. "Hello?"
"Jensen, I've been calling you all day, you better be in the fucking hospital, kid!"
"What? Patricia?"
"Who the hell else would it be? If you haven't had a potentially fatal accident, you will once I get ahold of you."
"Sorry, I turned my phone off last night and I forgot about-"
"Shut up and turn the TV on. Channel 27."
Jensen fumbles with Jared's collection of remotes, then freezes. "-and Jensen Ackles, of the WB's stable of hot young stars. Seen here promoting their new show, Supernatural, where they play a pair of ghost-hunting brothers, the pair were cornered by a TMZ cameraman demanding to know if it was true they were sleeping together! They refused to comment, but this has caused explosive speculation, and Padalecki's former girlfriend has come forward claiming Padalecki dumped her for Ackles. We now go to an E! Exclusive interview with Sandra McCoy."
Jensen turns the TV off. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck-"
"We can spin this, Jensen," Patricia's saying, and Jensen can barely hear her over the ringing in his ears. "We spin her as a bitter ex, trying to cause trouble-"
"But it's true, Patricia," Jensen hears himself say in a colorless voice. His parents, oh God. They're going to find out from the TV because he was too chickenshit to tell them, how will he ever...
"I don't give a fuck if it's true!" she screeches. "You can be as gay as you want on your own time, Jensen! Coming out now will end your career. What the hell were you THINKING? This is your big break, and you're SCREWING your on-screen BROTHER? We'll never get picked up now! Jensen? Are you listening to me?"
Jensen hangs up. He can taste adrenaline on the back of his tongue. He can't do this. He can't. Oh, God, he needs Jared. He picks up the phone and dials. "Jay?"
"Fuck, Jen, 'm sorry, I'm trying to get home, but I could be another two hours, I'm still all the way across town. Fucking 101 is packed ass to elbows, I'm on the exit ramp now and I'll try surface streets. Mick called me, I'm so sorry, I never would have told Sandy the truth if I thought she'd do that interview, never put you through that-"
"I know, I know," Jensen assures him, and tries to take deep breaths, but Jared's miles away and panicking too, and there's nothing to hang onto, to steady himself, and he can't fucking breathe.
"I'll stay on the line with you until I get there, okay, we gotta take deep breaths, this is not the end of the world. Even if it's the end of our careers, at least in Hollywood, that's fine. We'll move to New York, we can do theater, something, we'll work it out. Jen, talk to me."
"Panic attack," Jensen gasps, having to squeeze the words to get them through his throat.
"Sit down before you fall down," Jared orders, and he sounds calmer just for having Jensen to concentrate on. "Are you at home?"
"Y-yeah."
"Put me on speaker."
Okay." Jensen sinks onto the couch, switches Jared onto speaker, and a moment later hears a tinny whistle come from the earpiece. "Sadie, Harley, c'mon guys! Peeka-poke, my little Boo-berry, where are you?"
A moment later Jensen is caught in an avalanche of fur, Harley launching himself at Jensen, forever convinced that he is a lapdog, Sadie whining and nudging eagerly at his legs, Peeka and Boo scrambling onto the couch to yip and lick his fingers. "Thanks, Jay."
"Deep breaths. We'll get through this, I pro-what the hell? What is that asshole doing?" A horn, Jared swearing, screaming tires and the chewed-ice crunch of overstressed metal. Then silence.
"Jay! Jay!" Jensen picks up his phone, shakes it, holds it to his face just in time to get an earful of the busy tone. He hangs up, dials Jared's number again. It goes to voicemail, and fuck, he doesn't even know where Jared IS, just that he was getting off the 101. There's a lot of town on the other side of town, and Jared probably needs an ambulance, and he doesn't even know what hospital they'll take him to!
Then he feels a phantom wave of pain and passes out.
He wakes up in a hospital bed. Jared's in the one next to him-they've been pushed together and the rails lowered in the middle so the two of them can lie touching each other. "Jay?"
He hisses. "Owwwfuck," he mutters, blinking up at the ceiling. "You okay?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Head hurts." He reaches up cautiously, and Jensen turns, swats his seeking fingers away from the bandage. "Hey, Jen, c'mon!"
"Don't fuck with it until we know what happened. Dumbass."
Jensen fumbles for the call button, and a nurse bustles in, checking monitors, temperatures and pupils, and not answering any of their questions. "I'll send the doctors in for you."
A few minutes later, a small army of labcoated gawkers are crowding into the room, Dr. Becker leading the group. "We thought it might be easier for you to have a familiar face, someone already aware of your medical history, to explain what happened."
"What did happen?" Jensen asks. "I get that Jared was in an accident, but why did I pass out?"
"Sympathetic mimicry, same as your sleeping patterns," she explains.
"And how did I end up here?" Jensen asks.
"When we contacted Jared's next of kin, his mother, she tried to get ahold of you. You weren't answering, so she called a neighbour, to go and check on you just in case. An older lady down the street, I believe."
"Mrs. Genovese," Jared says. "She has a spare key; she gets my mail and waters my plants when I'm out of town, and I do the heavy yardwork she can't handle since her hip surgery."
"Yes, well. It's a good thing she was there; Jared went into shock from the accident, and that pushed both of you into mid-stage touch starvation."
"We were only apart for five hours when Jen called," Jared protests. "How much longer were we separated?"
"Close to two hours."
"That's stupid, we were apart for two days before!" Jensen snaps, as though the fact that such a thing is ridiculous will suddenly make it untrue.
"We did some scans while you were here and ran another blood panel. We think we may know why the mortality rate for Type II Lund's pairs is so high."
Jared swallows hard. "Is that good news or bad news?"
Dr. Becker shrugs. "Some of both, I think."
Jensen and Jared Are In Love: the WB stars dish on rumours, their relationship and the diagnosis that changed their lives
Today I sat down for an exclusive with Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles; the first interview they've granted since they were outed by TMZ at the WB Upfronts in June. The pair first met in April of this year to begin filming for the WB's new series Supernatural, where they play two ghost-hunting brothers.
Why come out now? There was a lot of press, but it was all based on the hearsay of one person. And some of it was too crazy to print.
Jensen Ackles: Confidentiality clauses are only as good as the word of the people who sign them. No point denying it now just to have it come out later.
Jared Padalecki: And you're going to have to define 'crazy,' it's been a wild couple of months.
Well, Jared, after pictures of you and Adrianne Palicki were leaked from the set of Supernatural-
JP: (laughs) Me shirtless coming out of my trailer with her? Yeah, the better shot would have been Jensen standing in the doorway half a minute later; too bad Mr. Telephoto Lens missed that. Addie's awesome; she was fun to work with and she's become a good friend. Her boyfriend's not my biggest fan, though. Understandably.
JA: That's one of the reasons we chose to set the record straight. So to speak. We're not the only ones being caused problems by this, and like Jay said, Addie's a good friend.
So, just to make things clear...
JP: We're together. That's not gonna change.
You sound pretty certain, and you haven't been together that long. Love at first sight?
JA: More like Type II Lund's Syndrome.
Wow. That's...definitely unexpected. You're the first known male pair of Lund's sufferers, is that correct?
JP: Emphasis on 'known.' There may be other pairs who aren't the focus of as much attention as we are and don't want to be. I can't say I blame them; it would be preferable to have our private life stay private.
JA: But we knew that wasn't an option; when you can't be out of physical contact for more than a couple of hours at a time, it's hard to be discreet.
And you're not the first pair of Lund's sufferers to be outed by the media before you were ready.
JA: Brad and Angelina. They actually contacted us through our publicist the other day to offer to talk, if we wanted to discuss tips for handling Lund's while filming. Brad's a great guy.
But you have a different form of Lund's than they do, isn't that correct?
JP: Acute Lund's is more severe, but the basic symptoms are the same.
Tell me about your first meeting.
JA: It was a meet-and-greet at the studio; we were supposed to do a read-through for some of the execs so they could get a feel for our chemistry. In a show with only two leads it's important to have a connection between the actors.
JP: (laughs) Be careful what you wish for.
JA: We went to shake hands and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. I thought I was having a heart attack.
But Jared, you knew what was happening?
JP: I have an aunt with Type I, so yeah, I figured out what was going on once I had a second to think about it.
It must have been a big change for both of you. Jared, you broke up with your girlfriend of two years, Sandra McCoy-
Jared's open, friendly expression closes off, and I can see I've hit a nerve.
JP: I'd rather not talk about that.
Were either of you aware prior to your meeting that you were gay?
JA: I don't think it works like that. I was straight when we met. I'm still not attracted to other men. Lund's isn't love at first sight.
JP: (nods) I knew I was bisexual, so it was a little easier for me. But, no, it's not a sexual thing, not really. Most Lund's pairs end up together, but it's more a case of being too close to each other to let anyone else in. It's...it's like the sun comes out when he's around.
Ackles cuffs his partner on the back of the head, but looks pleased.
JA: Sap.
JP: You love it, baby.
JA: (winces) Don't call me that.
JP: Bay. Bee.
The two of them scuffle playfully like a couple of kids, then settle when their bodyguard, Cliff, clears his throat pointedly.
JA: So, was there anything else you wanted to know?
We heard you had a touch starvation scare about a month ago. Can you tell us a little more about what that means?
JP: Well, we have acute Lund's, which means we have to be extra careful. As it turns out, physical or mental distress can more than halve the time Type II pairs can safely spend apart, and the working theory is, the longer an acute pair is together, the more that period decreases even under ideal circumstances. We learned that the hard way, but it explains why the mortality rate for Type II pairs is so much higher than for Type I.
What does that mean for the two of you professionally?
JA: It means that as we get older, we'll need increasingly longer periods of contact to recover from increasingly shorter periods of separation. The doctors charted a separation curve for us; eventually, we won't be able to be out of physical contact for more than a few minutes. We have maybe twenty years where we can continue with acting, as long as we're either working together on a project like we are with Supernatural, or one of us is working on a movie and the other goes along to set.
The death sentence on two promising acting careers is clearly a sensitive subject for the pair, and they automatically shift closer to each other.
JP: Jensen wants to get into directing eventually. I'm more interested in the development of a story, writing screenplays, maybe. If we're working behind the cameras, no one will care if we're holding hands while we do it.
No one seems to care now; since the news came out, Jared and Jensen have found themselves in high demand for interviews, talk shows, and film projects, but they're taking the time to choose, knowing they have to plan carefully to each get the projects they want most in the time they have left. They are currently participating in a documentary directed by Stacy Peralta, Hand in Hand, in which the acclaimed filmmaker follows four pairs of Lund's sufferers for a year. The other three pairs are Grace and Leshawn James, a Type I heterosexual couple from Santa Monica, and paternal relatives of Jared Padalecki's; Leesha and Kat Bjornsen, a Type I lesbian couple from Denmark; and Cerise and Phillipe Cote, a recently diagnosed Type II couple in their fifties from Quebec City, Canada. The film is tenatively scheduled for release in November of 2006.
~end~
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