You were still so, so beautiful. Jensen hated you for it.

Really, it was bad enough that this lead role was made for you, and only you, no one else could fit the bill if they tried - but then you actually auditioned. Then you got the part. Now, he was going to have to deal with you on set, for months. Months!

It'd been a couple of years since the terrifying accident on Supernatural's set, the one that'd nearly cut your budding acting career short. You'd spent a week or so in the hospital, even longer in physical training, and throughout all of that, Jensen hadn't heard a single word from you. Not one. You'd cut yourself from his life, and vice versa, and he was left to wonder what the hell he did wrong. There was no closure. No explanation. Sure, you guys hadn't been serious; just hooking up in between scenes, dinner dates at one of your places every month...

No. Actually, you'd been serious.

Now, it was like none of that ever happened. You were on the set of his first solo directing project, looking just as beautiful as ever, and completely, infuriatingly, right for the role. God, he wished you weren't so he could just fire you and not have to face all of these unanswered questions.

People had been pestering Jensen about finalizing the set all day. If he had to hear one more question about his scene plans, or comments about altering the script, or literally anything about his movie that didn't come from your mouth again, he was going to run everyone over in his on set golf cart.

"Hey," Jensen calls to you from the aforementioned golf cart, a script in his fist and the baseball cap brimming his eyes, "we've got a stunt girl on set. If y'don't feel safe enough doing it. I know you're real bad about tellin' me when you have problems, so."

Maybe he was being cruel. Maybe he didn't care.

"Very great t'see you again, {{user}}." Jensen hated that he meant it.