#carolinaclouds

You, yourself, were a little excited. You were 29, you had met the man of your dreams and here you were pregnant with his child. Sure, your life wasn’t conventional by any means, and you weren’t sure what Dean wanted or how he would feel, but here, right now, you were happy.

Tossing the rest of the tests in the bathroom trash can, you took the one in your hand and slid it in your purse and exited the superstore bathroom and slid into the passenger seat of baby where you put your head on Deans shoulder and whimpered a little. You had been on a supply run and told him you weren’t feeling to well and that’s why you spent so long in the bathroom. As a hunter, being an excellent liar came with the territory. You hated lying to Dean, but this wasn’t something you wanted to tell him about unless it was real, and now that it is, you were gonna wait until the right time to tell him.

Sadly, you were not a good judge of time. There had been times over the next week that you thought could be the right time to tell him, but there’d be a dip in his voice or there’d be a case and you’d all have to ship out rather quickly and telling him during a hunt was not in the list of options.

Biting your lip, you raked your finger through the tufts of his hair as you stared at the ceiling. Dean had been sleeping, but here you were at 6 am, up just before the sun, thinking about the tiny life that was growing inside of you. “Where are you, sweetheart?” Deans voice made your skin erupt in goosebumps. There was no evidence of sleep in his voice and you’d suddenly come to wonder how long he’d been awake just letting you play with his hair. “I’m here, my love,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. When you two had begun dating, it made Dean a little uncomfortable with your terms of endearment, but now? Now he loved it. It made him feel all that goopy stuff you’re supposed to feel when someone calls you Darling or honey, or my love.

Raising up on his elbows, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before snuggling back into the warmth of your chest. He loved hearing your heartbeat, it was the song he never wanted to stop listening to. “Dean?” you asked, testing the waters to see if this could be the right time. “Yeah?” “How do you feel about starting a family?” His body suddenly became tense against yours and you felt yourself clamming up. You couldn’t tell him now. Now was absolutely not the right time and all of your anxieties about this situation were running wild. “Y/N.. I.. I don’t.. I can’t,” he started sitting up, loosing the skin to skin contact, “I can’t bring another life into this.... this” he gestured at everything around him and you understood, “into whatever this is. I just.. that isn’t fair!” Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “I’m not saying anything Dean, I just wanted to know,” you whispered, lies slipping through your lips. He relaxed into your body and you lowered yourselves back into the bed and went back to sleep clutching each other.

Over the next few weeks, you started distancing yourself from hunts. When you would go, you’d do the FBI work or help with research but you wanted no part of the action and Dean didn’t fight you. Hell, he was ecstatic. He never wanted you near the action anyway, he couldn’t deal with you getting hurt. Sam? a little bit. Himself? definitely. You? noway in hell.

Along with no hunting, you found yourself making cute faces and playing with babies and little kids that you encountered in the markets or diners you visited. Dean and Sam would comment on how that was weird for you, but you just shrugged it off and never gave them an answer as to why you were acting strange.

During this time, Dean was freaking out. He remembered the conversation you two had had a few weeks ago, and now here you were acting really strange. Cooing at babies? Staying away from the hunt? Dean knew exactly what was going on and he was fucking terrified.

You two had been together for quite some time, you knew the ins and outs of Dean and he liked to think the same about you, but here you were changing the pace and he knew what was next.. you were going to leave. You were going to leave him like they all do and all he could do was wait.

Lately you had started to wear bulky sweaters or Dean’s shirts. You weren’t very far along, but you were paranoid about either of the boys seeing the tiny bump you had. Dean had been a little standoff-ish and you were scared he knew, so while he was away on a hunt you dug out one of his duffel bags that had never been unpacked and washed everything inside of it, deciding that these shirts were now yours. You didn’t have enough room in your dresser, so you took out your tighter shirts and stuffed those in the bag and put the bigger ones in your drawer.

Two days later when Dean came home, you welcomed him home with open arms and a sweet kiss, but didn’t let it get too heated because you had been battling morning sickness and your breath wasn’t the greatest. “I missed you,” you whispered, “But my breath stinks, I’ll be right back,” you smiled, making him chuckle as you ducked down the hall and into the bathroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he toed off his boots and that’s when he saw it. Sitting by the dresser was an old duffel bag full of your clothes and all of his suspicions were true. Dean couldn’t figure out what his main emotion was, heartbreak, betrayal or anger.

Picking up the bag, he set it on the bed, staring at it as the tears in his eyes threatened to shed themselves. “Dean?” you asked, seeing him standing next to the bed with clenched fists and your bag. “You’re leaving?” he growled, he didn’t even look at you when he turned towards you. The thought of him thinking you were leaving broke your heart. It was a real possibility, if he didn’t want your baby, but that was the absolute last option if nothing else was possible. When you didn’t say anything, scared to say anything, he just pushed past you and grabbed the keys to baby. “Dean wait!” you called, rushing after him down the hall. You watched as he climbed the stairs to the garage, scared of him leaving the bunker, you just shouted it. “I’m pregnant!” You watched as his hand fell from the handle as he turned towards you. Slowly, he descended the stairs, setting the keys back down, he finally looked at you. “What?” “I...I’m.... pregnant..” you whispered, staring at your almost non-existent belly. Falling to his knees, Dean wrapped his hands around your body and nuzzled his head into your belly. “I’m not going anywhere,darling,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

He smiled loving the dusty, old book smell, as he perused the isles for books. This wasn’t like Barnes & Noble or Half Price books, this store was tiny and filled to the brim with any kind of book you could imagine, that’s why he loved it. That and because it wasn’t a very known store, so he could pop in and out without being recognized.

He scanned the isles, his eyes skimming over the book titles, waiting for something to catch his eye. Walking further into the store, there was a little clearing between a few isles, in the middle was a round table with a few chairs, and that’s when he saw her; the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Excuse me, miss, are you okay?” he asked, softly, stopping at the table. Leaning down slowly, he looked into your eyes and saw the sweetest shade of brown he’d ever seen, your face was a soft shade of magenta and your cheeks were tainted by the tears you had shed. Glancing down, he noticed that you were clutching a tiny black book to your chest. Under your fingers, he could see some white lettering but not enough to make out what the words were.

Looking back into your eyes, it looked as if you were almost contemplating the answer to his question, as if you didn’t know if you were alright or not. Looking up at him, you lightly nodded your head before stopping and shaking it, pausing and then nodding again. You looked into his eyes, your mouth opening slightly before shutting it, you looked down the isles of books before letting out a restricted sigh. Running a hand over your face and through your hair, you looked back up at him again, “I don’t know.” Looking at the book in your hands, back at him and back at the book, he watched the emotion in your face change, “This book is a piece of shit,” you growled, slamming it on the table, grabbing your keys and back pack and angrily walking out of the store.

That was it. That was the moment Chris knew he’d just met his future wife. What ever book he had in his hand didn’t interest him anymore, Chris sat it on the table and picked up the little book you had just slammed down. Holding the little thing in his hands, he mumbled “Go ask Alice,” smiling like a damn fool as he made his way to the front of the store to purchase the ‘piece of shit’ book.

The second time Chris fell in love with you, he was making his way to some rinky-dink bar that his friend knew of. He’d just gotten back from his press tour and they were celebrating a successful tour, he was just happy to be off of a plane for more than 10 hours. The bar was only mildly packed as his little group of close friends sat perched at the bar, drinking beer. Sebastian was telling them some funny recap from the tour, when he heard it. Turning around in his seat, he saw you there, on stage. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainin’ Players only love you when they’re playin; Say women they will come and they will go, When the rain washes you clean you’ll know, You’ll know,” Your voice was that of a whisper from an angel. He couldn’t help but remember the first time you’d met, you were so upset over a little tiny book that turned out to equally piss him off, but here you were so peaceful, like this was what you were born to do. Your hair fell softly around your face as you played the acoustic guitar in your arms, there was spot light on you, while the rest of the bar was dimmed. “Seb,” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment,“Seb, that’s her. That’s the girl from the bookstore,” he breathed, a weight felt like it was being lifted off of his chest. This was the bookstore girl, the same girl that had entered his life just as quickly as she had left it, leaving his emotions a whirlwind inside of himself. Sebastian smirked softly, watching as his friend fell in love with a stranger for the second time in his life. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but seeing Chris here now, staring at the bookstore girl, he knew it wasn’t lust inside of Chris’ heart. “Dude,” he laughed, “go talk to her!” he pushed him off of the stool he was on, stumbling a bit. He watched as you exited the stage, the crowded stage area clapping and cheering as you entered the crowd. You hugged a few people, waved at a few other people before silently slinking away to the other side of the bar, where you found an empty stool alone and sat on it. Chris didn’t know what to do this time, as he made his way to you. He found himself with an unusually dry mouth, not even his saliva was helping to dampen it. Chris didn’t sit down next to you, no; he sat two seats down from you so that is wasn’t weird, and then ordered himself another beer so he wasn’t just sitting at the bar alone, with no drink, like a freak. He was most definitely overthinking this entire situation. Glancing over at you, he hoped you would see him and recognize him as the guy from the bookstore, if you had even remembered that. Smiling, he watched your eyes close as you gently danced along to the music playing over the speakers. Someone new had come on stage, and even though they were good, they didn’t even compare to the melodic sound that came out of your mouth. He looked back quickly, scared that you would see him watching you and get freaked and leave. He thanked the bartender as he brought him another beer, smiling and sliding a tip over the bar to him. “Hey, you’re the guy from the bookstore,” you said, smiling as you caught his attention. You tipped your beer towards him, your smile growing when he tipped his back at you. “Hey, you’re the girl from the bookstore,” he copied, thanking the heavens that you had been the one to address him first, “and the stage,” he finished. Rolling your eyes, you slid on seat over, just as he did, trying not to overthink the fact that you two were right next to each other. “I’m Y/N,” you said after a sip of your beer, extending your hand. Chuckling, he shook your hand, “Chris.” He watched a smile grow on your face and he felt a sense of pride, just his name made that smile on your face. He did that, he made you smile and that made him happy. “Well Chris from the bookstore, a few minutes after our little greeting in the store, I went back for my book and it was gone. Did you happen to steal my piece of shit book?" you asked, a smirk playing on your face as you sipped on your beer. He scoffed slightly, turning slightly to face you. "Steal? Do I look like a thief, y/n?" he took a drink of his beer, waving the bartender down as he ordered two more, "No, I didn't steal it. I bought it," he shrugged, looking back at you. "It wasn't for sale, Chris, it was my own personal copy of a shitty book," he smiled widely at you, lifting his hands as he shrugged at you, "I still bought it," you scoffed at him, rolling your eyes at him. You weren't sure why it meant so much to you, the book pissed you off and it didn't cost you more than a buck at a garage sale, but the fact that he had it now made you upset.

"If it really bothers you that much, here" he said, pulling the shitty little black book out of a pocket in his coat. "You.. carry it with you?" you asked, staring at the tattered cover of the book. It was warm in your hands, from the body heat in his coat. You looked up at him, astonished, it had been months since he'd taken your book, there was no way it took him this long to read it. "Yeah, ya know," he blushed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, "I've read it a few times in the past few months, it's not a big deal." You stared down at the very tattered little book in your hands. When you had this book, it was in perfect condition, not like the way it was now. "If... If you like it so much, you can keep it," you said, offering it back to him. He took it from you, gently, staring down at it. Laughing softly, he tossed the book onto the bar and looked back at you, "No, the book really is a piece of shit. The ending sucked," you laughed along with him, taking the book off of the bar and placing it in a little pocket in your backpack, for safe keeping.

The third time Chris fell in love with you, he had come into your flower shop, on accident, looking to send a bouquet of flowers to his mom. "It's Y/N, the bookstore girl," he smirked, startling you. A small yelp left your lips as you turned and threw a mock glare at him, your heart race quickening when your eyes met his. "Its Chris, the book thief," you smirked, giggling when he rolled his eyes. With a huff, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and began to stroll through your shop. Once you finished the arrangement you were working on, you brushed yourself off and walked over to help him. "So who are we getting these for? Angry girlfriend? Wife? Kissing ass to the boss?" you asked, placing a hand on your hip. He scoffed, laughing a little, "No- wait, if I did have a girlfriend, which I don't, why do you automatically assume she would be angry with me?" You shrugged your shoulders, a playful frown on your face as you turned around, picking up a flower and putting it directly back down. "I mean... if you stole her books...." you trailed off, throwing a look over your shoulder. A loud groan erupted from his mouth, as he turned to leave your shop. "No! Chris, wait, I'm kidding," you laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him back over to the flowers. He couldn't help but smile at his hand in yours, if felt right, like his hands were only meant to be held by yours. "Okay, really, who are we arranging for?" you asked, tying your hair up into a messy pony tail. "My mom," he said again, a smile playing on his lips. "Birthday, anniversary, anything?" he shook his head no. "Nah, no occasion. I just like sending her flowers," that made you smile lightly. He told you about his mother, a smile on his lips as he talked about her, making your heart swell. You could tell that he really loved her. The two of you walked around the shop, picking up flowers and putting the ones he picked up back down. He'd pick up a purple daisy and an orange carnation, both bad choices. "Wait here," you smiled, rushing back behind twinkly little beads, with a handful of flowers in your hands. He walked slowly around your shop, admiring all of the pictures. There was one on your opening day, hugging a giant, burly, looking man who he assumed was your father. There was another of you with both of your arms thrown casually over two very large dogs; another one, different from the others, a black and white photo of a woman. She looked just like you, but with slightly different dimensions, she took his breath away. "That was my mom," you smiled happily, behind him. "You look just like her," he smiled back at you, following as you motioned him over. He walked to the counter and saw a beautiful arrangement, made of a bunch of light colored flowers that smelled wonderful. He watched your mouth move, as you told him each flower and what they meant, but he didn't hear a word you said. In that moment, he had an overwhelming urge to kiss you, but he didn't. Smiling widely, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a big hug, surprising you. Smiling softly, you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him back. Pulling away, you lightly pushed his shoulder, giving him a pen and card so he could write a little note to his mom.

The fourth time Chris fell in love with you was a few hours later when his mom called him, in tears, telling him how much she loved the flowers and him. She also told him all about the cute little flower delivery girl who she had invited to dinner so Chris could meet her. "Chris, her name is Y/n and she is beautiful!" she went on and on for 15 minutes on this delivery girl, who Chris knew was just as beautiful as his mom was describing, if not more. "You two would make beautiful grandbabies for me!" she squealed, making his gasp out a laugh. "Jesus mom," he chuckled, a giant smile on his face. It was true, though. You two would make beautiful babies, he'd already accidentally thought about it. "You better be here Chris, and you better not be late!" "I love you too mom, I'll see you later!"

You and Sam had been dating for almost a year now, it every morning he got to wake up next to you was a morning he’d remember forever. You were more beautiful than any woman he had ever laid eyes upon; he was forever grateful that you found yourself loving a dork like him. There was almost a smile tugging at your lips as he watched you dream. His head was tucked against your naked chest with your hand lightly placed on his head. You two had fallen asleep last night, right after sex, both still completely naked. He had collapsed on top of you, after an earth shattering orgasm; instead of pushing him off of you, you wrapped your arm around him and began to stroke your fingers through his sweat-matted hair and begged him not to move. That’s how he found himself here, his head still on your chest, his body still on top of you and he wondered how you were breathing. “Go back to sleep,” you whispered, making Sam smile widely. He got these little lightning bugs that lit up in his stomach whenever he heard your voice. It was like listening to the sound of birds singing in the early morning, peaceful and beautiful. “I can‘t,” he whispered, closing his eyes and listening to the steady beat of your heart, his absolute favorite sound in the world. As long as your heart was still beating, he’d listen to it. “Why not?” you asked as you began to gently stroke through his hair. A soft grunt fell from his mouth as he moved his head, letting you get a better position for your hand. “You’re too pretty,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your skin, relishing the touch of your fingers. “Morning, Sammy,” you whispered, finally accepting the fact that your boyfriend would not be returning to sleep. You’d been awake for a little bit, but you didn’t dare move a muscle, no matter how bad you had to pee, for the fear of waking up Sam. You were surprised when you woke up and found him still on top of you, but you loved it. Sam was rarely vulnerable like this, despite being the brother that was more intact with him emotions, and last night he’d let you stroke his hair and hold him; something you loved to do. “How are you still breathing?” he asked, making you both chuckle. Opening your eyes, you looked down at your beautiful boyfriend. “You’re a bit heavy, but it’s not too bad. I like it,” you smiled, smugly, making him laugh. Sam placed a soft kiss to your chest, right where his head had been, just above your heart. Usually, about now, Sam would have been showered and during his morning run, but as he laid here in your arms, he couldn’t find himself to move. He felt safe here, under the blankets, your arms wrapped around him tightly; it was a weird feeling for him. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to leave you to get breakfast; he really had to pee, but still he couldn’t pull away from you.

He gently traced his fingers down your back, smiling softly as he recounted the events that took place last night. Not the sex, well- yes, the sex, but most importantly, you agreeing to spend the rest of your life with him.

The ring on your left finger was a simple white gold, with a pearl in the middle and two diamonds on either side of it. He remembered, the night you met, you were crying silently as you told him that you’d always wanted your grandmother’s wedding ring, you even had a picture of it, so he had it recreated for you, which didn’t actually cost as much as he thought it would.  It had been in your family for centuries, being passed down through every woman until your spiteful, dick head of a father, took it and pawned it for who knew what.

The night he met you hadn’t been the most pleasant. Chris knew your grandmother through his, and when his nana had found out that yours was sick, she asked him to take her up to the hospital. When they’d entered the room, you had your knees pulled up to your chest with your head resting on them, your hand gently resting over hers. They had spent quite a few hours with you and in your grandmothers presence, knowing she wasn’t there enough to really know they were there.

His nana had asked you about everything while he sat in silence, listening intently as you talked. He’d never met you before, but he wished he had. You were absolutely radiating and he felt a little guilty thinking about how pretty you were, how nice your voice sounded, while your grandmother was dying in front of your own eyes.

After that night, Chris had come back every day to change out the flowers and to see you. You were a little shocked to see him at first, before giving a soft smile and thanking him for the flowers. You two had grown quite close in that time, until your grandmother passed and he was there to comfort you through the whole thing. To this day, you thanked him for being there in that time, claiming you wouldn’t have made it without him. What scared him the most was the thought that you might be right, you might not have made it without him and he never wanted to think about a world without you in it.

Your relationship with Chris wasn’t a regular relationship. You got hate. A lot of hate. Mostly for the fact that some people deemed you not pretty enough to be in his presence, and because you were a whopping 13 years younger than him. You were only 21 when he met you, even young you were still very responsible. While everyone under the sun called you a gold digger or Chris a cradle robber, you two were immensely happy together and no amount of hate from his fans would tear you away from him.

You loved your life. You were a kindergarten teacher and you loved every minute of it, even the ones that involved you being thrown up on or the ones where they ruined your clothes with paint; you wouldn’t trade your career for anything else in the world and Chris loved that. He loved coming home and listening to you talk about your kids, or light up when you told him about a new project you were working on with them.

But no matter how much you loved your life, there were always moments you weren’t too happy about.

For instance, when Chris would leave to film a movie, those were the moments you absolutely hated. Chris knew how much you hated him leaving, he hated it too. He loved his job, it made him so happy, but even as much happiness and love it brought into his life, sometimes he wanted to leave acting and find something else where he could just come home to you everyday.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, finally acknowledging the fact that you were awake and no more sleep was coming to you. Chris waited for a few moments, continuing to drag his fingers up and down your back as he watched the blades of the ceiling fan spin.

“Do you ever think about our lives if I wasn’t actor?” he asked, making you sit up in surprise.

“Not at all,” you said, raking your fingers slowly through his hair, “why do you ask?”

He looked up at you, a little guiltily, even though he had nothing to be guilty for. “I think about it sometimes, that’s what I’m thinking about right now.”

Slowly, you leaned down and placed a soft, lazy kiss to his lips. “You aren’t leaving acting, Chris,” you said, lovingly as you stared into his bright blue orbs. “You love your career. You’ve worked so hard to be where you are, you absolutely light up in interviews. Acting is what you were born to do, why would leave something that makes you so happy?” you asked. Chris thought about your words, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed his face in the crook of your neck, he let out a deep sigh.

“I hate leaving you here, all alone. I hate leaving you, in general. I know you hate it too, y/n, don’t pretend you don’t.” You let out a deep sigh, placing a kiss on his head, it was now your turn to stare at the rotating fan blades. “I do hate it. Watching you get on a plane and leave for months is awful, it’s definitely not what I want to do. But watching you get off of them is. The smile on your face when you come home, how fast you talk when you recap everything Ive already heard over the phone, I love that. I love watching you work. I love how your eyebrows furrow when you’re reading a script and say ‘Captain America would never say that.’ And I know you love that, Chris. I know you love getting to know a new character, getting to be a new person.”

Chris took in all of your words, and he hated to admit that for someone 13 years younger than him you were so much more wise and experienced than him. It was one of the many many reasons he loved you.

You knew Chris better than you knew anyone. You knew Chris better than Chris knew Chris, better than his mother knew Chris. So you knew that this conversation was a long time coming, but you also knew that as much as his words were true, yours were too and he loved acting too much to give it up. You were aware that Chris loved you, and if you had ever seriously asked him to stop and to stay home he absolutely would, without a shadow of a doubt, but you would never ask that of Chris. You would never take away his passion like that, and you knew that Chris knew that, and sometimes you think that maybe a huge factor as to why you and Chris work together so well.

Jensen stared at you, his green eyes glistening in the moon light. Watching you sobered him up, being here with you in your apartment gave him a free and clear mind. “Help me take this off, will ya, boyfriend?” you giggled, lifting up your arms. OF course your expensive, designer, dress wouldn’t have a zipper. Gulping, he gave you a shakey nod. His hands gently helped you pull the sleeves off first, shaking more the closer you got to being naked in front of him, a dream he’d had for so long. Pulling on the dress, he gently pulled it over your head and immediately turned around to hang it back up in the black bag it came in. Jensen knew about the rules for these kinds of events. If the dress wasn’t returned exactly the way you received it, you’d have to pay for it; he didn’t even want to know the cost of this dress.

Truth be told, Jensen was scared. Behind him, you were nearly naked, his dream come true; but he’d just asked you to be his girlfriend, he really liked you and wanted a real chance at a relationship with you, he didn’t want to have sex with you while you had been drinking, but he also didn’t want to offend you in any way. In his eyes, Jensen was screwed either way.

Taking a deep breath, Jensen turned around, ready to face you, but to his dismay, you weren’t there. “Y/N?” he called your name, hearing a soft moaning, he walked into your bathroom and saw you hunched over your toilet bowl. Quickly, he found a washcloth and ran it under some warm water before slightly wringing it out. Crouching behind you, he gently moved your hair away from your face and held it back so you wouldn’t get any vomit in it. “Usually, I can handle my alcohol,” you slurred softly, sobering up by the minute, “I’ve never gotten sick after drinking, not even the first time I got drunk, Idon'tknowwhathappened,” you whined, your words morphing into one giant one, as you leaned back against him as he gently washed your face off with the washcloth. “Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol,” Jensen consoled, “maybe it was the bad street tacos,” he chuckled, reaching up to flush the toilet. He leaned back against the wall, his arms wrapped around you with your back against his chest. “Oh yeah,” you giggled, resting your head on his arm, “word to the wise, never buy street tacos from someone in a brown van.”

After a moment, when Jensen had safely come to the conclusion that you weren’t going to throw up again, he picked you up and carefully carried you back to your bed. Pulling back the covers, he gently placed you in your bed, tucking you in. “Jensen?” you whispered, looking up at him, smiling when placed a cup of water down next to you on your bed side. “Hmm?” he smiled, brushing your hair out of your face, he helped you sit up and take some aspirin before tucking you back in. Reaching up, you placed your hand on his cheek and pulled him down into a sweet, soft kiss. “Will you stay with me tonight?” you whispered, your lips barely ghosting over his as you spoke. “I think you need to get some rest,” he whispered back, his thumbs gently stoking your cheeks, “I want to, baby, believe me I do, but tonight you need to rest okay?” You nodded at him, slightly shocked by his answer. You knew Jensen was a good man, a sweet and gentle, dorky man; his answer made you fall for him a little bit.

Jensen quickly texted Jared asking if he could come pick him up from your place, he refilled the glass on your night stand, before placing a kiss on your forehead as you slept. “Sweet dreams, baby girl,” he whispered, turning out the light.

You weren’t entirely sure why Gen had decided to give Jensen your number, but you were in no way mad at her for doing so. You had spent a lot of time talking to him. You two mostly texted back and forth, in your spare time, but every now and again he’d call you and you two would just talk on the phone; it was nice. It was also a little weird. You didn’t really know Jensen and yet, you already felt so comfortable being around him.

It was about 6:30 the next morning when you met up with Nina, handing her a coffee and a blueberry muffin. You both sat in tired silence on the mat in the gym, eating slowly. She had went to a viewing party that you had been invited to last night, you two stayed out way later than you had intended and had gotten incredibly drunk. For you, a blueberry muffin and coffee were the best hangover cure. “I hate you,” she murmured, laying back on the mat with her arms spread. You laid with her, spreading your legs as wide as you could, making a starfish out of your body, “I hate myself too,” you groaned, lifting your shirt up to expose your stomach and cover your eyes. “Why are we awake?” she whimpered, rolling onto her stomach and putting her arms over her head. You let out a big yawn followed by a small sigh, “Because you have other clients to buff up and I have to follow a schedule.” You two laid in painful, comforting silence before getting up to start your training.

Your training day begins simple. You stretch for ten minutes to make sure you don’t pull a muscle, five minutes of jumping jacks, five minutes of push ups and five minutes of pull ups. After that, you get into the more intense stuff. Your work-out, in particular, included tractor tires and heavy chains. With the chains, you do fifteen minutes of lunges with the chains all over your body, and fifteen minutes of sit-ups with the chains. The tractor tires were a little more harsh than the chains, since they weighted a considerable amount more than the chains. There were triceps dips, tire jumps, toe touches and so many more. Most of your time was really at the gym. No matter how much your hated it, you couldn’t stop going; you were training for a movie and you had to keep going. This movie was a full action packed movie and you had to be in the best possible shape of your life.

You had received a text from Gen, asking you to meet up for lunch at a small rinky-dink cafe that no one would be noticed at. You graciously accepted, telling her you’d meet her at 1, suddenly excited when she said that she had good news for you. You finished your work out at 10, giving you time to go home, shower and change and relax before you needed to meet your new friend for lunch. You were a little relieved that you’d actually met another woman in the same career as you that you actually liked. You didn’t have many friends that were actresses like you, once you became an established actress, everyone you met were very stuck up and it just didn’t fit well with your personality. Nina was great, she was your best friend in Vancouver, she wasn’t exactly a nobody as well. She’d worked with some of the biggest actors you’ve ever heard of. You had a few friends back home that you talked to nearly every day, that you were grateful for. You loved each of your friends, but it was nice to have someone who knew what you were going through in the acting world.