Steve gives Jensen an apologetic shrug, and runs a hand through shaggy surfer-blond hair. When he speaks, he has to raise his voice to be heard over the din of the club. "It'll be a minute. It's always a little crazy after a set." "Yeah, I see that," Jensen mutters, and stumbles forward two steps as he's jostled by yet another pack of tarted up and teased to hell girls. Jensen's never seen so many damn women in one place in his life, and that includes his one and only visit to the Playboy Mansion a couple months back. Luckily, he doesn't spill his beer. "So, what'd you think?" Steve asks, after accepting another hug and another glass of Jack on the rocks from a fan. Female, of course, and crazy hot in that monotone, Hollywood sort of way. One thing Jensen's always appreciated about L.A. is the eye-candy. "Hmm?" he asks, tearing his gaze away from a smokin' brunette in a micro-mini. "The set, man, what'd you think?" "Oh." Jensen shrugs, and takes a sip of his beer, wiping the foam from the top of his lip. "It's alright. Like your solo shit better, though. Your friend's trying too hard." "I am, huh?" Well, fuck. Jensen winces, and turns. Christian Kane nudges his cowboy hat back and gives Jensen a calm look, blue eyes cool, piercing. Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen can see Steve trying not to laugh. "Yeah," Jensen says, after finally conceding the staring contest to Chris. "How's that?" Chris doesn't look pissed, just curious. But Jensen's heard the stories about Chris' unpredictable temper, so he figures he's not out of the woods yet. Not that it'll stop him from being honest. "Well, I guess if you're trying to be the next Waylon Jennings, you're fine. If you're aiming to be original, then you're trying too hard." Steve just tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling like it's the most fascinating thing ever. Chris gives him another level look. Then his face breaks out into a wide, ready grin that transforms him instantly from hard ass to cut up. Jensen smiles back before he's even aware of it. "I like him," Chris states, and holds out a hand. "Christian Kane." Sparks dance along Jensen's arm when he returns the handshake. "Jensen Ackles." Steve claps them both on the back. "Glad you've hit it off. I'm going out for a smoke." The second Steve's out of sight, Chris' grin changes. Smolders. "You get high?" "I'm from Texas." "Good." Chris steps closer, and the sparks ignite under Jensen's skin. His voice is a whiskey-rough purr. "I think we'll get along just fine, then." Jensen has no idea what the hell Chris means by that, but he's dying to find out. "Yeah," he murmurs, and smirks a little when Chris' gaze drops to his lips. "I think we will."
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