You Make Me Better
21/11/08 12:29![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkemeraldsYou know that last scene in "Heaven and Hell"? The one where Jensen should win an Emmy?
I got to thinking...
Title: You Make Me Better
A little J2 RPS
Rating: general
Word count: Oh, you know, a thousand, give or take
Unbetaed, dashed off, back to work now.
You Make Me Better
Jen leans against the Impala, staring at the ground, as the crew and the PAs and Miller and everybody do what they do when the cameras stop rolling. Everyone around here knows that as much as Jen loves applause, as much as he needs to be reassured about his talent, after a scene like the one he just nailed, what Jen needs most is to be left alone to pull himself together
Left alone doesn't include me, though. I have his back at these moments, and you know what? Having Jensen's back when he's done pouring himself out into a scene like this one still feels like a privilege. An honor.
He told me--once, late at night when we were lying there in the dark and nobody could see anybody's face and we were fucked out and falling asleep--he told me that I make him better.
It's not true, of course. I mean, he's the one that makes me better. He makes me work, he lines me up, he looks at me with those big eyes and sees all my stupid-ass, loudmouth, out-of-control faults and he loves me anyway, and nobody in the world can make me feel as important as Jen does, you know? Nobody can make me feel like even if I go sprawling flat on my face, he'll just pick me up and dust me off and keep on loving me.
But he told me I make him better, and I want it to be true, so I stood there behind him, leaning against the Impala, out of the the camera's focus, and I just, like, tried to hold him up. Gave up on trying to think what Sam would think, or sympathize with what Dean would be feeling. I just stood there and thought, if I ever lose my Jen the way Sam is losing Dean right now, I will fly into little pieces.
And he could feel it. I touched his back--camera couldn't see it, so I did it--and I just let him find that well he goes to for a scene like this one, and let him know he wasn't going down that well alone, and now here he is, staring at the ground, letting the last of it flow out of him.
When most of the crew have turned their attention to other things, a sob breaks out of him. I can feel it under my hand, more than hear it. After a second or two, I say, "Jen?"
He nods, but doesn't answer.
I move my hand on the small of his back, just a little. We don't--you know, put on any displays in public. Not real ones. Not even on the set. I mean, everyone knows and all, and it's not like in this business anyone has any issue with two guys. It's just...private. What we have is. Well, sacred. It's not for anyone else.
So I wait a minute, making a little circle on his back through the jacket, and the shirts, and the tense muscles slowly unwinding, and finally he wipes his eyes, sniffs hard, and turns to me.
Okay, yeah, I'm wiping my eyes too, and I don't mind admitting that I wanted him to see it--to see how much he affects me, how powerful he is. I say, "You..." and then no words seem big enough. So I say, "You nailed it," which he already totally knows.
He sniffles again and gets a big, shaky breath.
"C'mon," I say. I head for my trailer, not touching him, not anything like that. No need. He knows. He follows.
Inside, he just...falls. Falls into me, the way he does when he's on empty. Collapses, just for a second, and I catch him. I always do. I never want to not catch him. I hold him up, and he's boneless and empty, and we just stand there with his face pressed into my neck and my arms under his armpits, and he's hot, like burning, on fire, and little by little he starts to fill back up, and I know he's coming around again when his hands come to life on my back and my neck.
He pulls my head down--he loves doing that, he's said a lot of times that he loves not being the tall one--and kisses me like he hasn't had anything in a while and is starving for it. When I get a chance, I say, "You were amazing out there. You totally--"
But he shuts me up with another kiss. "Yeah," he says after a while. "We rocked that scene."
"You did," I say. There's no way I was even in that scene.
He moves against me, all back to life now. Like, totally back to life, in the way that makes me really glad we're wrapped and heading home. When Jen's like this, I can just clear my calendar for the night.
So he goes to his trailer to change and wash up a little, and when he comes out again, there's applause and cheering from the crew, and he's ready for it. He smiles, he makes jokes, takes hands and high-fives as he heads across to the car.
I follow along in his shadow, giving him--giving us--a little space. He's tired, he's ready to be done--I can see that in his walk. But he loves this, the applause and the recognition. He needs it, way more than I do, and I love seeing him get it. I'll get him home, and feed him in all the ways that he's hungry, and I'll have his back, and if that makes him better, then--
Well, it's where I want to be.
I got to thinking...
Title: You Make Me Better
A little J2 RPS
Rating: general
Word count: Oh, you know, a thousand, give or take
Unbetaed, dashed off, back to work now.
You Make Me Better
Jen leans against the Impala, staring at the ground, as the crew and the PAs and Miller and everybody do what they do when the cameras stop rolling. Everyone around here knows that as much as Jen loves applause, as much as he needs to be reassured about his talent, after a scene like the one he just nailed, what Jen needs most is to be left alone to pull himself together
Left alone doesn't include me, though. I have his back at these moments, and you know what? Having Jensen's back when he's done pouring himself out into a scene like this one still feels like a privilege. An honor.
He told me--once, late at night when we were lying there in the dark and nobody could see anybody's face and we were fucked out and falling asleep--he told me that I make him better.
It's not true, of course. I mean, he's the one that makes me better. He makes me work, he lines me up, he looks at me with those big eyes and sees all my stupid-ass, loudmouth, out-of-control faults and he loves me anyway, and nobody in the world can make me feel as important as Jen does, you know? Nobody can make me feel like even if I go sprawling flat on my face, he'll just pick me up and dust me off and keep on loving me.
But he told me I make him better, and I want it to be true, so I stood there behind him, leaning against the Impala, out of the the camera's focus, and I just, like, tried to hold him up. Gave up on trying to think what Sam would think, or sympathize with what Dean would be feeling. I just stood there and thought, if I ever lose my Jen the way Sam is losing Dean right now, I will fly into little pieces.
And he could feel it. I touched his back--camera couldn't see it, so I did it--and I just let him find that well he goes to for a scene like this one, and let him know he wasn't going down that well alone, and now here he is, staring at the ground, letting the last of it flow out of him.
When most of the crew have turned their attention to other things, a sob breaks out of him. I can feel it under my hand, more than hear it. After a second or two, I say, "Jen?"
He nods, but doesn't answer.
I move my hand on the small of his back, just a little. We don't--you know, put on any displays in public. Not real ones. Not even on the set. I mean, everyone knows and all, and it's not like in this business anyone has any issue with two guys. It's just...private. What we have is. Well, sacred. It's not for anyone else.
So I wait a minute, making a little circle on his back through the jacket, and the shirts, and the tense muscles slowly unwinding, and finally he wipes his eyes, sniffs hard, and turns to me.
Okay, yeah, I'm wiping my eyes too, and I don't mind admitting that I wanted him to see it--to see how much he affects me, how powerful he is. I say, "You..." and then no words seem big enough. So I say, "You nailed it," which he already totally knows.
He sniffles again and gets a big, shaky breath.
"C'mon," I say. I head for my trailer, not touching him, not anything like that. No need. He knows. He follows.
Inside, he just...falls. Falls into me, the way he does when he's on empty. Collapses, just for a second, and I catch him. I always do. I never want to not catch him. I hold him up, and he's boneless and empty, and we just stand there with his face pressed into my neck and my arms under his armpits, and he's hot, like burning, on fire, and little by little he starts to fill back up, and I know he's coming around again when his hands come to life on my back and my neck.
He pulls my head down--he loves doing that, he's said a lot of times that he loves not being the tall one--and kisses me like he hasn't had anything in a while and is starving for it. When I get a chance, I say, "You were amazing out there. You totally--"
But he shuts me up with another kiss. "Yeah," he says after a while. "We rocked that scene."
"You did," I say. There's no way I was even in that scene.
He moves against me, all back to life now. Like, totally back to life, in the way that makes me really glad we're wrapped and heading home. When Jen's like this, I can just clear my calendar for the night.
So he goes to his trailer to change and wash up a little, and when he comes out again, there's applause and cheering from the crew, and he's ready for it. He smiles, he makes jokes, takes hands and high-fives as he heads across to the car.
I follow along in his shadow, giving him--giving us--a little space. He's tired, he's ready to be done--I can see that in his walk. But he loves this, the applause and the recognition. He needs it, way more than I do, and I love seeing him get it. I'll get him home, and feed him in all the ways that he's hungry, and I'll have his back, and if that makes him better, then--
Well, it's where I want to be.
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