They knew it was a only a matter before they were forced to move on.
It was life. It was show business.
It was only a matter of time before Jared married Sandy and Jensen moved on to the next big gig and became even more famous.
They knew that no matter how much they wanted their love, built on stress, lust, and pure attraction, to hold strong, they knew it wouldn't. It was life.
It was only a matter of time before the thing that was holding them together faded like every other light in Hollywood. It was show business.
When everyone else was celebrating the end of the show that brought them together, when people were celebrating the success of the past four years, Jensen and Jared snuck away.
Jared cried silently as Jensen pulled them into traffic, twisting his rental car in between traffic for miles. Taking them to some destination neither of them knew.
Neither knew where they were going, neither knew why they'd left the party devoted to them.
It only hit them when they passed a tattoo shop. Jensen's hands tightened around the wheel, the desperate tears halting on his face. Jared wiped a fist under his eyes and gave his lover a silent nod.
The owner would look back years later and always wonder about them.
It was beyond strange to see two grown men walk into his store, wearing clothing that cost more then his home yet still looking worse then the last crack whore he'd seen.
They'd made the demands of what they wanted then said nothing else.
The tall one, with shaggy hair and puppy eyes red from tears, keeping eyeing the shorter man, always attempting to distinctly grip his hand, always staring at him, as if he was afraid the other man would simply disappear if he looked away.
The shorter one, the one who looked like a Marine wanna be, watch him tattoo his friend.
The owner was aware that the moment the tall one sat on his chair and he put the needle to his skin, the short one, tensed.
Like he was insulted, hurt, and on the edge of a rage because someone was touching his friend. Like the concept of someone touching the older man was so foreign, it actually hurt him.
The owner realized after the first prick of blood appeared on the tall one's skin, that if he messed up, caused this man so much as one prick of pain to many, he'd probably end up in the hospital.
But the thing that made him most uneasy was the connection between them. They didn't need words to communicate; they barely even needed to look at each other to understand the other. It almost seemed like their bodies spoke on some basic level the rest of the world would never understand.
The tall one would look up at the short one, his eyes frowned in wonder. Almost like asking, "Is this what you wanted?"
To which the short one would give a stout nod, "It's Perfect," then reach out and brush a lock of hair of his eyes, suddenly oblivious to the other man's presence.
The owner of the Tattoo pallor did his job as quickly as he could. He didn't saw a word as he finished the design then pressed a bandage to his body. The shorter one extended an hand to help the tall one stand then sat himself.
The owner began again, pressing the ink gun to the new man's skin.
The tall one stood vigil behind the owner, pressing a hand over his new tattoo, while his eyes lock onto his friends. Again, their bodies communicating on the level the owner of the tattoo pallor could only sense.
When it was finished they paid him and left. A word never having been spoken at all.
The owner never realized that by drawing that design on each man's wrist, that simple
J2, he'd just connection them for life, even if their love did fade, which neither believed, even when they were forced by lives, work, and the world around them to be hundreds of miles apart, all it took to bring Jensen and Jared together was to simply look down at their wrist and see the black ink.
To see a reminder that their love had been real, had been powerful and no matter what else, no matter how many years later, could still bring them endless amounts of comfort.