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Growing up, Jensen never liked to make a big deal out of his birthday. Part of it was his innate shyness and part of it was that he just didn’t see what the fuss was about. It had nothing to do with a traumatic experience he had when he was five involving birthday candles and his favorite teddy bear. Really. No matter what his Mom said.
It was always more about what he could do at any given age, rather than actually being that age. He wanted to be twelve so his parents would let him stay home alone. He wanted to be sixteen so he could drive, eighteen so he could vote, twenty-one so he could drink, and so on and so on. He thought, “When I am X, I will be able to Y. And when I can do Y, life will be perfect.”
His philosophy on life could be boiled down to an algebra-like equation: X plus Y equals happiness. Trouble was it never quite worked out that way, because Y was a variable and happiness always hinged on the next thing. And Jensen had always sucked at math anyway.
At nineteen, the next thing turned out to be California and a role on a daytime soap. He made a big splash in a small pond. His looks opened a lot of doors, even if some led to places he didn’t necessarily want to go. Jensen kept his head down and worked on his craft. He had some good times and made some good friends. He kept is eye out for the next thing.
In 2001, when he was twenty-three, he went up for the role of Clark Kent in the new Superman vehicle for the fledging WB network. He lost out to a guy who was a little bit taller and a lot darker. It happened like that sometimes. He didn’t get to play the super hero, but he did get to work for James Cameron. The recurring role on Dark Angel led to Dawson’s Creek, which ironically led him right back to Smallville.
Jensen hadn’t broken out yet, but he couldn’t complain. He was a working actor. That was more than a lot of people who carried a SAG card could say. And if he wasn’t exactly happy, well, he wasn’t exactly unhappy either.
The year he turned twenty-six he landed Supernatural and everything changed. Just not in the way he thought it would.
+ || + || +
Jared Padalecki was like some force of nature, blowing into Jensen’s life. He was loud where Jensen was quiet, open where Jensen was closed. On the face of it, they couldn’t have been more different. But opposites are also complements, and something clicked the moment they met. They slipped into Sam and Dean like they were born to play them, slid into an easy friendship with even less effort.
Jared had a quick wit, a tendency towards mischief and a dedication to the job that rivaled Jensen’s. The next three years passed in a haze of long hours and hard work. Jared and Jensen spent more time with each other than they did with their significant others or their families. They lived in each other’s pockets, yet never seemed to grow tired of the company.
If they worked hard, they played even harder. When Jensen’s twenty-eighth birthday rolled around at the end of Season One, Jared forced him to celebrate. Jared loved birthdays - his, Jensen’s, any random crew member – it didn’t matter.
Somewhere along the line, Jensen forgot all about algebra and variables. What can I do became what am I doing.
The night of his twenty-ninth birthday, Jensen was drunk off his ass in some out of the way dive bar in Vancouver. He was talking with an equally drunk Rosenbaum when the sound of Jared’s booming laugh stole his attention. And right there, in the middle of that bar, the tornado that had been building since the very beginning picked Jensen up like a beat up mobile home, shook him around and dropped him back down miles from where he’d started.
The funny thing was, he wasn’t even surprised. Falling in love with Jared was as inevitable as it was idiotic. He felt a rush of bittersweet exhilaration. Jared was his best friend. Jared was straight. Jared had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. Jared would never love him back the same way. None of that changed anything.
Jensen mentally shrugged his shoulders and threw back another shot. He stopped checking the horizon for the next thing and settled in to enjoy the life he was living.
+ || + || +
Jensen spent his thirtieth birthday in a bed at Vancouver General Hospital. Jared stuck a candle in a Ding Dong and told him to make a wish. Jensen looked up at Jared to find him looking right back, and the emotion shining in his hazel eyes gave Jensen a wild surge of hope.
And everything changed again.
+ || + || +
On the morning of his thirty-fifth birthday, Jensen woke up alone in bed. The sheets were cool beside him, but the empty pillow still held the indent of Jared’s enormous head. It made Jensen smile.
So did the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.
He reluctantly climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He had just finished brushing his teeth when heard Jared and the dogs get back from their daily run. Jensen started counting in his head. One, two, three, four…
By the time Jensen reached eight, Jared was standing in the doorway. At ten, he was crowding behind Jensen at the sink, wrapping him up and pulling him back against his sweaty chest.
Jensen wrinkled his nose. “You stink.”
Jared’s response was to rub his face into the curve of Jensen’s neck. “You love the way I smell.”
“Right. You just keep telling yourself that.”
Jared smiled into Jensen’s skin and pressed a kiss just under his chin. “Happy Birthday, baby.”
Jensen let his head fall back against Jared’s shoulder even as he growled the automatic, “Don’t call me that.”
“How does it feel to be thirty-five?”
“Same way it felt to be thirty-four, or even twenty-four, I guess. Don’t feel any different. Should I?”
“Why would you?”
“I don’t know. I’m closer to forty than I am to thirty. I always thought I’d be -” Jensen trailed off, unable to explain himself without going into worn out theories about equations and variables and finding the next thing. It was stupid anyway, when he’d already found the only thing.
Their eyes met in the mirror and just like always, Jared read everything Jensen was feeling but couldn’t find the words to say. He pulled Jensen even closer and slid one hand up under his t-shirt until it covered the scar bisecting his chest. “You should be here. With me.”
Jensen’s heart stuttered just like it did every time Jared touched him there. It was a tangible reminder of an event that could have torn them away from each other for good but had ended up bringing them together instead. He clutched at Jared’s other hand, still curved around his hip.
Jensen nodded, stubble rasping against Jared’s where their faces pressed together. “Yeah. I should.”
Y wasn’t a variable anymore. It was in his life and in his bed. Jensen thought maybe it was past time he updated his philosophy on life: When I am thirty-five (or forty-five, or fifty-five), I will love Jared and he will love me. And I will be happy.
It turned out he didn’t suck at math after all.
Jared nuzzled Jensen’s ear. “Shower?”
Jensen smirked. “Please do.”
“C’mon, Jen. I’ll let you scrub my back.”
“Let me? It’s my birthday.”
“So, I’ll blow you. Whatever.”
Jensen couldn’t help himself, he laughed. Five years on, and while some things had changed; some things remained exactly the same. Jensen wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jared turned Jensen in his arms and kissed him soft and sweet. “So, what’s the verdict? Is it everything you thought it would be?”
Jensen grinned and tugged Jared toward the shower. “It’s better.”
He still didn’t get the big deal about birthdays, but he'd learned to appreciate other people’s appreciation of them.