Jensen caught on to Jared's Star Trek obsession pretty early; the Vulcan Mind Meld he attempted two hours into their first shoot was the first give away.

It had failed, so Jared assured him, only because Jared himself was not Vulcan. Had he been, and all of Jensen's most intimate thoughts would have been played out on the back of Jared's eyelids. In High Definition.

Jensen was most glad then that Jared, spectacular nerd that he was, was no Vulcan.

As obsessions went, Jensen figured it could have been worse. He could cope with ending every day's shoot with "Live long, and prosper" if it meant keeping Jared happy. On the whole, very little effort was required from him. A nod here and there; downloading the first Season so he could laugh appropriately when Jared adopted a heavy Scottish accent and announced "I canna change the laws of Physics, Captain!"

In fact, despite Jared's abject horror at Jensen's inability to form a Vulcan salute with his fingers, the whole thing wasn't that big a deal.

Until the movie came out.

At this point, Jensen would like it known that he had no personal issue with J.J. Abrams, and having met the guy a few times, can honestly say he's not half bad. Unfortunately, he didn't share a house with J.J. He shared a house with Jared.

Jared did not share Jensen's views.

"Fucking J.J fucking Abrams." Jensen found Jared hunched over a steaming mug of coffee. His knees were tucked up to his chest, his shoulders high. He looked like a particularly offensive gnome. Albeit an oversized one. "You know he's really in league with the Devil?" Jared announced, lighting up at the sight of Jensen; he had a new target to rant at.

Jensen did an admirable job of nodding and smiling, appropriate sounds of agreement added for extra effect. "Is he now?" Pandering to Jared's moods could never been considered the wisest action to take first thing in a morning, but it was the safest. Jensen might be a fool, but he was a fool who still had all his body parts.

The coffee remaining in Jared's mug sloshed messily over the side as Jared slammed his hands down on the breakfast counter. "Yes! Kripke said so!."

The process of setting out ingredients for breakfast was enough to keep Jensen's mind occupied as he answered. "You don't think that is more to do with the whole Emmy thing?" To be fair, Lost had a lot more viewers than Supernatural. It had been no surprise they had lost.

"Of course not." Jared waved the suggestion away without a second thought.

"Okay." Jensen would humor him long enough to make pancake batter. "And why is he the Devil?"

"I didn't say he was the Devil." Jared shook his head. "I said he was in league with the Devil."

Jensen nodded. His mistake.

Continuing on full steam ahead, Jared launched into the most heated monologue Jensen had ever heard at eight on a Sunday morning. "Evil, Jensen. He's evil I tell you! Who the hell does he think he is? Pompous, arrogant, evil son of a-" Jensen smacked his hand with a spatular, but it did nothing to stop Jared's rant. "How dare he mess with a classic? You know he's going to fuck everything up! Scotty's probably going to be Irish! Oh God, Jen, what is he makes Kirk some kind of pansy ass pretty boy who never wins a single fight?"

Jensen should probably have twigged as to the source of Jared's inner pain, but was too busy adding blueberries to his batter.

"Okay." He nodded, giving the illusion that he had been paying careful attention. "So is there a reason for you lambasting of a well known, well respected literary genius?"

Jared outright scoffed. "Way to go, Jensen. Fanboy the enemy."

Privately, Jensen thought it was far better to fanboy J.J. Abrams than William Shatner.

In reply, Jensen gave Jared a look that was well translated as 'what the fuck is your point, moron?'.

Nearly five years, and Jared was as fluent in Jensen as he was in Klingon. Which was to say he was pretty damn good at it.

"Star Trek, Jen!" He finally explained, flailing arms added for dramatic effect. "Star Trek!"

"Star Trek." Jensen echoed, still not quite understanding Jared's problem.

"He's redoing the whole franchise! He's making a movie! A fucking movie!"

The coin dropped.

"Oh." Jensen said. Then, because he was stupid, and it was really damn early, he added, "cool."



'Cool' was apparently not the words of condolence Jared had been looking for.

Jensen got a whole lot of reading done in the two days Jared refused to talk to him.



"What are you doing?" Jensen peered over Jared's shoulder and blinked at the brightly lit computer monitor.

Jared grunted. Three months after the news had devastated Jared (and fans world wide, apparently), and Jensen was willing to retract his views on the awesomeness of J.J. Abrams. Any man who could turn his bright, happy, slightly neurotic best friend stroke lover into this raving lunatic was a man who might indeed be in leagues with the Devil.

Jensen had asked Misha, who seemed to agree - Jared had apparently threatened him with dismemberment if Misha refused to 'smite the unholy one'.

Jared had clicked a link of the browser window, bringing up a very dull looking spread of the latest FOOTSE figures. Jensen rolled his eyes. The words 'The Final Frontier: Discussi' were visible on the furthest tab.

"Let it go, big guy." He said bracingly, with a pat on the shoulder he hoped conveyed his support. It turned out that Jensen was considerably more compassionate when he wasn't hungry or half asleep.

Jared turned an outright pout on Jensen from the reflection of the monitor. "I can't Jen! This is my childhood he is fucking up!" No need to ask who 'he' was. "This show means almost as much to me as Supernatural does! I grew up with it, I love it. I spent eight hours lining up at a convention for Spock's autograph!"

Put that way, Jensen could understand Jared's fear.

He began to say that he understood, he supported, and that he would post bail should Jared feel the need to go ahead with Plan B and push Abrams off a cliff.

Instead all he managed was, "Wait, you went to a convention?"

Jared's ears turned pink; so did the rest of him.

"Fuck off, douchebag."



A week later, and it was still enough to land Jensen in a fit of giggles.



After that, there was nothing further said on the matter.

Jensen felt a little guilty.

It wasn't his place to mock Jared for his neurotic fears any more than it was Jared's to mock Jensen for his alphabetized Barry Manilow collection.

He thought of a way to apologize for being insensitive. Every option he came up with only made him come across as even more of a douche.

In the end he taped his fingers into that converted Vulcan salute and spent the whole day with a numb hand. Jared might forgive quickly, but he never passed up the chance to make Jensen look like a complete freak.



Then the movie finally hit the theaters, Jared bought them two tickets for the midnight screening.

Jensen had managed to score them an invite to the premiere, thanks to a friend of a friend, and the promise to kiss Milo's feet the next time they were together in front of the cameras.

Jared had ummed and ahhed, and they had missed the whole thing by the time Jensen was able to psych him up to survey the damage.

That was how they ended up on the street at eleven pm. Standing in a line up with guys (and girls) wearing pointed ears and some of the most unflattering fashion choices Jensen had ever seen.

"Guess we should have come in costume." Jensen muttered as he was elbowed in the back by a midget wearing large adhesive eyebrows.

Jared squirmed on the stop. "Why won't they let us in?" He pouted, completing the childish display by tugging on Jensen's sleeve.

As if by magic, the doors opened. One by one, the buzzing fans filed into the theater.

Except Jared, who remained where he was, feet firmly planted on the floor. "I can't do it, Jen." Jared whispered. He stared at the doors as if they opened up into a black hole that would swallow them both alive.

"What happened to 'boldly going'?" Jensen asked, walking up behind Jared and planting his hands firmly over his shoulders. A good heave, and Jared still didn't move.

"I'm not the man Kirk was!" Jared panicked.

"Oh for the love of… what would Sam do?"

At that, Jared quirked. It was something they both did. W.W. S/D.W.D? Jensen was embarrassed to admit it helped.

"Burn down the theater?"

"Good!Sam, not evil!Sam." Jensen amended, adding a mental curse to Kripke for fucking with their mental processes.

"Sneak in the back and not pay for a seat?" Jared said weakly. "Jen...this could be the end of my whole life."

Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose, alarmed when a voice inside his head piped up with 'damnit, Jare, I'm an actor, not a fucking shrink!' In the end he literally gave his friend a kick up the backside.

Jared yelped, and Jensen used the distraction to propel him into the theater.

From there, it was easy to let the allure of extra buttery popcorn do the rest.



Just so you know." Jared said as they joined the crowd spilling out of the theater. "I want to have Karl Urban's children."

Jensen nodded. "Duly noted. It passed the test?"

Jared hadn't said a word throughout the whole screening. He had stared at the screen as if blinking might hide from him the one tiny detail he could use to curse J.J. Abrams to Hell.

"It had Spock."

"It had Spock." Jensen nodded. Two of them, actually.

"It had Uhura." Jared added.

Jensen wondered if he was the only one who thought the girl had introduced herself as 'Uwhorea' and scolded himself for being childish.

"So?"

"It had McCoy."

"And you want to marry him, yes, I know." There was an irony that had very nearly escaped him.

"And Scotty."

Jensen lost his patience. "Can J.J.Abrams sleep safely in his bed or not?"

Jared cast him a long, shadowed look. "That depends."

"On?" Jensen dreaded the answer.

"On whether you'll wear the pointy ears next time we fuck."



To be fair, Jensen should probably have expected something like that sooner.