Chapter 1

No matter how old you are, you want your friends to get along.

Especially your best friends, in Jensen's case, the two people who know him inside and out with additional points for keeping his secrets. No judging, no bullshit, not sunshine blowing of any kind.

He wanted them to get along, seriously. He wanted them to be buddies, the three of them, bar-hopping and flying to Vegas for weekends that no one remembered except for the tattoos they all woke up with. The only crick in his well-laid plans was the only thing they had in common was him.

***

Even with the knowledge that Jared's frat-prep thing was going to clash mightily with Chris' Redneck Hillbilly Nation, Jensen excitedly introduced them one Saturday night in a Vancouver bar. Jared was his new best friend, Chris was his old best friend and in a perfect world, they would blend together as easily as each did with Jensen.

The best laid plans of mice and men resulted in a borderline angry music taste smack-down which ended with Chris announcing HE was a musician and HE could judge whether or not Our Lady Peace was the Canadian version of Emo Elevator Music and Jared informing him he was an idiot who wrote songs about Jesus and a hound dog so what in the hell did he know. Fortunately everyone was drunk so Jensen made a joke, ordered another round, and pretended the resulting sullen silence was due to the lateness of the hour.

***

"He's a great guy."

"He's a goddamn POSER. Abercrombie & Finch wearing, emo music listening, Corona with LIME drinking poser. I'm almost fuckin' offended to know someone who knows him!"

"Could you overreact a little more?"

"I've never written a song about a hound dog and you know it! That's a goddamn country cliche!"

"You did write about a dog once I'm pretty sure..."

"Who's side are you on?"

"There are sides now?! I'm fucking Sweden then."

***

"He's a great guy."

"And if I ever need a jump for my pick-up truck or entertainment for a barn dance, he's the first person I'm going to call."

"You're a fucking snob! That is not right."

"Well he's a snob too so fuck it. What? You're not real or some such shit unless you look like you just rolled off your shift at Cooter's Garage? I swear to God, he lays on that rockabilly shit so thick I came home with hayseeds in my teeth."

***

He kept them apart after that, silently bemoaning their lack of getting along and wishing they'd both just stop being so territorial. He makes one attempt with each to reassure that he's not going anywhere. He can be best friends with both of them. Ironically enough, both of them tell him to fuck off.

***

It's after the first season when Jensen finds himself scheduling a trip to Vegas - two days with Chris (back from his European tour), two days with Jared (who's got women trouble as in "Sandy doesn't like they can't go out anymore without women offering him their underwear") and Jensen's starting to feel a little like "Timmy has Two Daddys Who Are Divorced". He'd push the issue of them all TRYING to get along like adults but he doesn't want to be called names. He just wants to gamble and drink and get laid.

He doesn't expect to get laid UP; falling in the bathroom of his own apartment while rushing to make his flight is goddamn embarrassing. By the time he's gotten his wrist and ankle in their respective casts and the drugs have worn off enough so he can use the phone, both Chris and Jared have arrived in Vegas. Jensen apologizes in a slurred voice, gets a little sympathy and a lot of ribbing from each of them; later he can't remember which was which since the "I've fallen and I can't get up!" jokes were done in pretty similar accents. Then he goes to sleep for about four days, dreaming of a far away world called Vegas where the odds were right, liquor flowed from fountains and girls were very very easy.

***

Jensen calls Chris again and leaves another message, threatening bodily harm if his friend doesn't call the fuck back. Two weeks since Vegas and all he's gotten was a seven foot teddy bear in a nurse's uniform and a few messages on his voice mail. Short laconic messages. He doesn't like it.

"Stop leaving threatening messages on my voicemail Jenny. You're startin' to hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Don't be pissy. I'm sorry okay? I been busy with shit and I sent you a fuckin' bear!"

"What the hell happened to you in Vegas? I expected to get some decent stories since I missed the gambling and the women. You get laid for me?"

"Well - matter of fact I did."

***

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I had some stuff to take care of - sorry. You need anything? I can grab some food, come over and let you watch me beat your high score in Grand Theft Auto."

"Yeah sure. Then you can tell me how Vegas was."

"Vegas was nice."

"Vegas was nice?!"

"What?"

"Vegas is not nice. Vegas is Sin City. Did you gamble? Did you drink? Did you get laid?"

"What the hell are you? A commercial for Las Vegas Tourism Department? Yes, I gambled and drank. I even threw up in a fountain at one point. Happy?"

"Thrilled. Dickhead."

***

How two people could go to Vegas and not come back with stories is insulting to Jensen's sensibilities. Apparently, each of his best friends need him to conduct all further debauchery.

***

Two months later he's sitting on Jared's couch watching the Rangers get their asses handed to them by Yankees, pissing and moaning at every missed opportunity and "ball THROUGH the right side". Jared throws a pillow at the television, gets up to take a piss. The phone rings and Jensen leans over to answer.

"Jensen answering Jared's phone. What's up?" he asks, in case it's a mother or something.

Silence on the line. A little static, an endless pregnant pause and then the hang-up. A second later, as Jensen's putting the receiver down, he hears Jared's cell. He hears Jared hustle out of the john to pick it up. He hears murmurs. He watches the clock shaped like Felix the Cat click out a minute plus with it's tail and freaky eyes.

Then Jared reappears, looking...guilty.

"Someone called and hung up," Jensen announces, like it's important. He doesn't point out the potential relation to Jared's cell ringing a second later. He just glares a little.

"Yeah? Probably a wrong number," Jared says blandly. He settles back down and picks up his bottle of Corona from the littered coffee table.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Friend."

They finish the game in swollen silence.

***

Jensen is a little hurt that Jared is keeping secrets from him. That's not something best friends do. He's used to hearing about everything - fights with Sandy, guilt trips from his mother, the misadventures of Chad the Dickhead. This is just...bizarre. Jared's tightlipped about whatever and most of their time together after filming is spent playing video games. That is, when Jared isn't busy.

And he'd like to bitch about it to Chris but Godforfuckingbid the man call him back. There's a black hole where his messages seem to go. Keeping up with your best friend through his MySpace website is just slightly left of Junior High and it's not cool. Not at all. He's about to leave a last message, a fuck you very much find a new whipping boy message but then Chris shows up on his front steps with a battered duffle bag and a duct taped cowboy hat and Jensen can't say no.

He also brought beer.

They drink and laugh and strum guitars and sing and drink until Jensen feels like he has his old friend back. It makes him feel better, like he was imagining the distance. Like things weren't changing too much. So what if Chris doesn't talk much about what's going on with his life, deflecting questions about the tour and the groupies until Jensen just stops asking.

"It's all good man, seriously," Chris assures him and Jensen gives him the benefit of the doubt.

So what if there are phone calls on the cell phone that Chris takes in the bathroom.

***

Jensen comes back to LA in the middle of the night; the flight from Dallas was delayed four times and only the booze in first class got him through the stifling hell of a plane that doesn't move. He's exhausted by the time his car service drops him off at his house but that morphs into pissed as all hell when he goes for his wallet and finds it gone.

Along with his keys.

3am, no keys, no wallet - the only thing Jensen can do is direct the car to Jared's apartment complex, calling his friend on the cell to warn him he was showing up in about twenty minutes in need of cash and a place to sleep for the night.

He gets the machine and curses up a storm. Tells the driver to wait (leaves his luggage as collateral) and rings Jared's bell with the heavy fist of frustration until he gets a terse response over the intercom.

"Open the door, I need money okay? Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I'll be right down...how much you need?"

"Two hundred."

"Did you fucking take a cab from Dallas?" Jared snaps and then there's the buzz of quiet conversation and Jensen realizes his friend is not alone.

Well shit.

"Jared listen - "

"I'll be right down." And the intercom goes dead.

Three minutes later, Jared appears in unbuttoned jeans and an inside out tee shirt, barefoot and pissed off. He doesn't say anything, just sticks a wad of cash into Jensen's hand and jerks his hand towards the cab.

On the verge of a pout, Jensen stomps to the car, pays the driver and gets his bags, turning just in time to see Jared step into a pool of light. And realizes he's wearing a Kane shirt.

There's a moment of mental white-out, brain overload and the smell of burning flesh as his synapses blow up. Middle of the night and Jared's wearing a Kane shirt and yeah, maybe, just maybe he picked up a Kane fan. That's it. It is L.A. after all. He went to a bar and found a girl wearing a shirt from Chris' band and took her home cause it was funny. That has to be it.

He walks back Jared, smiling stupidly. "So what's her name?" he smirks, climbing the stairs.

Jared just stares and then he laughs but not in a ha ha funny way. He turns and heads into the building, leaving the door partially open for Jensen.

"What?!?"

Read Chapter Two of Fourteen of tjournal's Timmy Has Two Daddys