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dugindeep
They spend a night in Chicago, breaking one of the rules of the road with an executive room at the Hard Rock Hotel. Jared insists they celebrate the beginning of their great road trip with dinner and drinks. Jensen appreciates the sleek lines of the restaurant, along with the wide screen TVs in the bar area facing Michigan Avenue with floor-to-ceiling windows giving a clear view of the busy roadway and the park beyond it. But he itches for the tiny corner joints that boast everyday humanity, not the celebrity they’ve carried for years.
A few folks stop them for photos, enough so that Jensen’s smile wears thin and he eyes Jared before and after every picture. Finally, Jensen steps outside for fresh air and spots a 7-11 just down the block. He snags a bottle of whiskey, caring less about the label than ever before, and eyes the long display of cigarettes behind the counter.
With an empowering smirk, he pays for a fifteen dollar bottle of cheap ass whiskey and another twenty for a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. There’s even more freedom in opening the pack, setting a cigarette between his lips, flicking the lighter, and inhaling the first big puff. He smokes his first cigarette in years, once again returning to his youth when he snuck one every chance he could get.
Jared finds him just to the side of the Hard Rock’s tall bar windows and shakes his head with a twisted smile. “I was wondering where you ran off to. Somehow I didn’t guess that, but I probably should have.”
“I actually went for this.” Jensen hands over the brown paper bag and watches Jared’s eyebrows lift in curiosity.
“This will probably rot my gut.”
“And come with a lot less fanfare.”
“So you didn’t run off for a pack of smokes like a bad father?”
Jensen side eyes him while taking a long drag from his cigarette. He spends a few extra seconds to blow out the dirty smoke and take another clean breath. “I wouldn’t run out on you.”
“You did once before.”
“I won’t do it again.” They share a long look and Jensen drops his head with a meaningful gaze. “Promise.”
Jared puckers his lips in thought then slips the bag back over the bottle. He holds it tightly at his side then nods towards Jensen. “So you gonna share that or what?”
Jensen smirks and steps forward. “On this trip? What’s mine is yours.” He hands over the cigarette and feels comfortable standing shoulder to shoulder as they finish the smoke and stare out onto Michigan Avenue. The traffic is loud and busy, nothing like the last two weeks that Jensen has spent on the road, but he instantly feels calm to be here with Jared, to have someone to sit shotgun on the next leg of the road to rediscovery.
Come morning, they’re hungover from their attempt to polish off that cheap bottle of whiskey. They failed at it, having already downed a few drinks before they escaped to their room, but Jensen considers it a success to have spent the evening in the quiet of their own space. The TV kept them company for hours in between Jensen’s stories on the road, filling in the spaces between his postcards and text messages. Jared spends time clearing out the pictures on his phone, insistent that he’ll need space for all the new things they’ll see as they head west.
In a drunken delirium, Jared had giggled his way through at least five different Route 66 web sites, counting down all the tourist stops along the way. Now when they’ve retrieved the Impala from valet, Jared brings those websites up again and quietly scans his phone while they both down coffee and munch on donuts to fill their crying stomachs.
Jared navigates them into the far Chicago suburbs to the now defunct Joliet State Prison, where they debate survival tactics against hundreds of criminals with dirty laundry. Jensen jokes about the ghosts that roam the cells, and Jared punches him on the shoulder for going there.
“Not like we couldn’t defend ourselves, right?” Jensen jokes. “We got enough ammo in the trunk.”
Jared stares at him over the lid of his coffee. “You are aware that was all a show, right?”
Jensen lifts one eyebrow. Their entire mood is blasé at this point, still waiting for the food and coffee to bring them out of the haze of the hang over. Yet Jensen finds it more hilarious this way. “You’re the one carving shanks to hide in your armpit, and I’m the crazy one?”
“Gotta know how to protect yourself in the big house.”
“You’re a moron.”
“This moron is gonna shiv some asshole if he looks at you the wrong way.”
As flat as possible, Jensen replies, “My hero.”
“Always and forever.” As Jared takes a few snapshots with his phone, it rings. Not for the first time since he’s met up with Jensen.
And like the few times before, Jared hesitates in answering, then never does. He denies the calls, sends them to voicemail, then gets back to whatever they’ve been doing. This time, Jensen speaks up. “You can answer it, you know?”
Jared fakes a grin, one that Jensen can see right through. “I’m out with my best friend. Who else could be calling?”
“Gen? The kids?”
“It’s fine, I’ll call them back later.” Jared slaps Jensen on the ass as he turns back towards the car. “I need more coffee and grease.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In Braidwood, Jared begs for a stop at the Polk-a-Dot Drive-In. They pull into an empty gravel lot where the small diner stands alone on a large yet unassuming lot tucked into a small-town residential block. There he sees them … Elvis, Marilyn, James Dean, and Betty Boop. Four statues posted on the side of the building in their most renowned stances, including Marilyn’s wind-blown dress barely kept down by her hands, or the King swaying his hips to the beat of Hound Dog.
Jared is downright delighted and mischievous when he gets out of the car and sets his feet on the white stones that crunch beneath him. Moments later, he’s posing beside Elvis with his hands out, right knee pitched high, and standing on the tip toes of his left.
Jensen beams as he watches Jared play act to each character, and finally brings his phone out to capture Jared a la Marilyn. The look is completed with a sweet look of shock at nearly flashing his undergarments.
At Jared’s insistence, Jensen joins the statues so it can be captured on film. Eventually he just leans against Elvis with a cool smirk, arm pitched against the man’s shoulder. But Jared finally catches a slick moment when Jensen fakes looking under Marilyn’s dress, capturing a dozen seconds of Jensen looking, leering, then winking with satisfaction.
A little further south, their bodies are happier with refills on juice and water along with McDonald’s breakfast burritos and coffee. Jensen’s mouth waters with the need for cheese and eggs fired up hot despite it being nearly lunch time.
“All day breakfast, my friend,” Jensen jokes.
“Kiss my ass,” Jared mumbles while biting off half a burrito.
“So glad McDonald’s had all day breakfast to save us.”
Around a mess of food in his mouth, Jared fires back, “Suck my dick.”
“Maybe once I’m done with this delicious breakfast burrito, thanks to McDonald’s all day breakfast.”
Jared laughs while trying to eat, choking a little on his food, and Jensen joins in with the laughter. They get sillier with the lack of sleep and coffee finally kicking in.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without it. What a life saver, Jared.”
“Shut your mouth and keep driving,” Jared complains, “we’re almost at the next stop.”
He wants to ask what it is that Jared has on his phone, but he thinks it’ll be better to discover it for himself. And it takes a bit to realize what they’re aiming for in the tiny town of Colinsville. Its downtown street looks like any they’ve filmed on back for Supernatural, including bright green foliage on the right hand side for what the town calls a park. The bushes then stop for a tiny stone center area that pushes back on the lot to give way to a twenty foot tall statue.
He looks kind of like Paul Bunyan, which Jared explains was his very name when he lived back closer to Chicago. Still on Route 66, Paul Bunyan stood at the entry to a hot dog shop, also called Bunyon’s though spelled differently, and had been a staple in the area before the restaurant closed down.
Instead of holding an axe, though, he’s got a giant hot dog in his hands. The hot dog alone is ten feet long and Jensen makes a few faces as he thinks about what to say as they stand in front of it.
“That’s a huge hot dog.”
“I’ve never seen a weiner that big.”
Without a word, Jared goes for his belt, getting his pants and underwear down before Jensen is fully aware of what’s happening, and then he’s staring at Jared’s dick. Through the shock, Jensen attempts to act nonchalant. He’s sure he fails when he feels his cheeks blaze, but he just laughs and walks back to the car, leaving Jared to stand alone with his dick hanging out.
“Hey wait up!” Jared shouts, shuffling behind and trying to get himself dressed again.
Another hour southwest and Springfield gives them the famous Cozy Dog. The concoction is the simple equation of a hot dog, thick and creaming batter, and a deep fryer. It’s the first place to ever cook up and sell a corn dog, and they own every bit of bragging rights, Jensen thinks, because the breading makes it worth the stop.
He daydreams of heading on forward through the night, but even with Jared taking over the wheel for half the day, it’s taken them twelve hours to finally reach St. Louis and the world’s largest ketchup bottle. They can’t get anywhere near it, so they stay in the car to stare up at it from through windshield.
Jared leans all the way across the dash for pictures while Jensen shakes his head in disappointment. “This is pretty lame.”
“It’s just a water tower,” Jared adds with the same quiet, disappointed tone.
“There’s not even ketchup in it.”
Suddenly, Jared giggles, and it doesn’t stop there. Jensen joins him as they joke about how many tomatoes it would take to fill the water tower that’s dressed up like a ketchup bottle for a local bottling company.
Tears streak Jensen’s cheeks, which burn with the constant stretch of their smiles and laughter for a solid five minutes. He feels deliriously happy, and tired, but mostly just happy with Jared right here.
Jared becomes obsessed with the Muffler Men, searching on his phone for every location and stylistic difference among them. He huffs loudly, sounding more terrified than mad or even amused. “Jesus, there’s one in Albuquerque with no arms.”
“Where?” Jensen asks, leaning over to see the phone.
He nudges Jensen’s face forward. “Eyes on the road, De Niro.”
“Okay, Miss Daisy.”
Jared finally looks away from the screen to grin at him. “You’re totally my bitch, driving me around everywhere.”
Jensen narrows his eyes, purses his lips, even while he’s tickled with happiness to be in this very situation with his best friend sitting shotgun. “You’re the bitch, bitch.”
“Okay, Dean.”
He finally laughs, leaning over and aim a warm smile at Jared. “Only took you three days.”
It’s a bit surprising when Jared returns the smile and winks. Not because it happens, but because of how it makes Jensen think he’s slipped back in time, to a place and time he’s always needed. “I’ve been saying it for three days. You just weren’t listening.”
“Well, I am now.”
Jared’s phone shrills, prompting them both to look at it. From this angle, Jensen can just barely make out Gen, but he can’t tell why Jared forces it to voicemail. Again. He’s about to ask when Jared clears his throat.
Jared bites the corner of his mouth while he continues reading his phone then speaks after a short silences. “Okay, so get this …”
They spend a few days in and around St. Louis, grabbing last-minute tickets for a Blues game, even buying blue and gold hockey jerseys and cheering on the forever-underdogs that can’t catch up in the final minutes. Jensen hollers from their seats in the end zone and Jared flags down beer vendors whenever he can. The cool alcohol eases Jensen’s hoarse throat until it’s time to leave with the throngs of disappointed fans clogging the exits.
Now he has Jared’s arm slung around his neck, and Jared’s overheated and sweaty body against his side, plus the booze makes him stumbles every few feet. Jensen’s mouth is dry and his mind blank like the dark sky above them with nary a star in sight.
Miraculously, Jared guides them to the car despite the amount of beer they’ve inhaled. They collapse against the trunk, and rest and breathe and just stare at the hordes of cars emptying the asphalt lot.
“We need a place to sleep,” Jared points out as he slides onto the trunk and rests back.
Jensen sways with the shaking of the car then slaps Jared’s knee beside him. “That we do.”
“Can you even drive?”
He does his best to keep a burp down, but it makes a louder hiccupy sound. Jared laughs at it, which makes Jensen chuckle and swat at Jared’s leg.
“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Jared says flatly.
“You’re the one who bought all the beer.”
“It was a good idea at the time.”
Jensen’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and as he grabs for it, mumbles, “Mm, yeah, that’s what they all say.” He misses Jared’s retort as he receives a photo text from JJ with a grey fluffball smooshed against her cheek.
SAY HI TO KING LOUIE! Mama found him hanging out down the drive so Im nursin him back to health
Jensen huffs. “My baby has a baby.”
“Your what now?” Jared asks while shifting forward. He’s half on the trunk but mostly hanging onto Jensen’s shoulders and back to look at the message himself.
“My baby has a baby,” he repeats with more fondness in his words.
“What is it?” Jared shifts around with his chin hooked over Jensen’s shoulder and his arms over Jensen’s to hold the phone at different angles. “Is it a cat? Or giant mouse?”
Jensen makes a thoughtful noise. “I thought it was a dog.”
Belatedly, he realizes his head is resting alongside Jared’s, cheeks rubbing together along with messy strands of Jared’s hair. The fresh air is now full of salty sweat and something underlying that Jensen has always known as Jared. He breathes deep, reliving the scent he’d learned well from their time spent across the border.
His heart beats a little unsteady, faster, too. He’s not entirely sure what it means to have this reaction to someone who’d lived at his side for fifteen-plus years. Then again, he can blame the alcohol and sweet reminiscing they’ve had over these last few days. Maybe blame a bit on his long bout with loneliness. Because having someone in his space again is comforting, and not just physically. Sure, he can feel the heat from Jared’s body and the strength of Jared’s chest pressed tight to his back. But when Jensen breathes in deep, his chest no longer feels hollow.
Distracted by all these thoughts swirling to darker places unknown, Jensen next spies JJ’s smiling mug on his phone with Jared starting up a video call.
“Hey babygirl!” Jared sing-songs. “You gotta solve a bet between me and your daddy.”
JJ grins with her new pet resting on her chest. From this angle and at this hour, she must be in bed already. “Okay! Shoot!”
“What kind of mangy pest did you snatch off the streets?”
Jensen laughs instantly, glowing with the animated way JJ and Jared interact through the phone.
When they finally nab themselves a motel just to the west of the city, Jensen can still feel the drape of Jared’s body across his back. Has second thoughts to move to the other queen bed so he can relive the weight of his friend alongside him. Instead, he tucks the blankets around his back, enveloping himself as tightly as he can.
Jensen feels the hit to his ass before the words make their way to his brain.
“Hey, get up, lazy ass!” Jared smacks him again and roughly shucks up his hair. “I got a hot date planned for us.”
Jensen surprises even himself with the speed that he jumps out of bed to tackle Jared onto the other mattress. Jared’s eyes are blown wide with his mouth hanging open when Jensen’s got him held down to the bed, yet just a few seconds later, Jared flops them over to the side and cranes one of those insanely long legs around Jensen’s knee to trap him in place.
When Jared toothily smiles, Jensen knows he’s remembering all those wrestling matches out on the con circuit. “It’s been a long time for you, old man.”
“About as long since you broke your shoulder on a midget.”
Jared huffs out a laugh, which puts him off his mark and Jensen manages to slide over Jared’s back to get him in a headlock. “Who you callin’ old man now?” he crows just before tightening his hold around Jared’s neck
“Okay! Okay! I give. But only because your morning wood is drilling a hole in my back.”
Jensen laughs and heaves his body further onto Jared just to harass him more. Moments pass before it all meshes with the memories of the night before with Jared tucked tight against him.
“Dude, you could buy me breakfast first.”
“You’re so easy,” Jensen jokes on his way to the bathroom, fully ignoring how pink Jared’s cheeks are or how flushed his own body feels.
Especially when Jared shoots back, “All you have you do is ask, babe.”
Part Four
