MASTERPOST: Love Eventually - (J2, R)
Artist: slurpyart
Title: Love Eventually
Author: amypond45
Rating: R
Pairing: J2
Warnings/Tags: inaccurate depiction of everything baseball, enemies to lovers
Summary: Jared’s a high school teacher and baseball coach. When a freckled Freshman asks to try out for the team, Jared finds himself reflecting on his time with the Texas Rangers, an experience fraught with turbulent emotions, high hopes, and ultimate tragedy. Oh, and a certain crotchety coach whose freckles and green eyes resemble the boy standing in front of him, asking for a favor.
Art Link(s): Live Journal | Tumblr
Fic Links: LJ | A03
A/N: This fic was written for the j2_reversebang. Many thanks to the mods for organizing it!
Thank you to roxymissrose for reading through this story to be sure it made sense, and to jdl71 for the beta. Y’all rock!
Be sure to visit the artist's post to give it some love! I fell in love with the art the first moment I saw it. The original art prompt was: Jared has been drafted to the Texas Rangers baseball team, under coach Jensen Ackles. Do they get along, what happens next is up to you...
I know next to nothing about baseball, or the Texas Rangers (although I did do a little research and discovered some interesting facts about their 2004 season, which is when part of this fic is set) but I do love the game and many movies about it are at the top of my re-watch list, including Field of Dreams, The Natural, Bull Durham, and Moneyball. This fic is my tribute to those wonderful flicks.
//**//**//
“Mr. Padalecki?”
Jared looks up from his desk, where he’s just been gathering student papers after the dismissal bell rang.
The boy standing in the doorway can’t be more than fourteen. He’s small and slim, with huge green eyes and freckles, and his sandy-colored hair is a mess. Jared’s pretty sure he’s never seen him before, so he’s not one of Jared’s students.
“Yes?” He waits patiently as the young man clears his throat and gathers his courage.
“I - I was hoping you might let me try out for the team,” the boy said haltingly.
Jared was hired for his current job as an English teacher at the Mission School in San Antonio under the condition that he would coach the school’s baseball and football teams, and although he’s never been much of a football fan, his background playing for Major League Baseball made him uniquely qualified.
“We’ve never had a Major League player teach here before,” Headmaster Morgan told him when he was hired. “It’ll definitely help in our recruiting efforts.”
That was five years ago. Now, the school’s baseball team has grown into a bit of a legend in its small private-school division. Families send their sons to the school from all over the country just for a chance to play under Coach Padalecki.
Jared finishes packing up his papers before answering the boy. When he turned to look at him, the kid is visibly shaking.
Jared smiles, attempting to put the boy at ease.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Harris,” the boy replies. “Harris Ackles.”
Jared draws a quick breath. “Ackles?”
“Y - Yessir,” the boy stammers. “My uncle was your coach, back when you were with the Rangers.”
Jared huffs out a dry laugh. “He sure was,” he says. “Practically got me killed.”
“Sir?” The boy’s eyes widen even further. He looks terrified.
“Never mind.” Jared waves a hand. “Water under the bridge. It was a long time ago. How’s your uncle?”
“He’s fine, sir. Still coaching.”
Jared nods, smiling grimly. “I’m sure he is. I never met a man who was as good at giving orders as your uncle. Sarge, that’s what we used to call him, on account of what a boot-camp drill sergeant he was. Still in the majors, is he?”
“No, sir. He’s coaching a minor league team in Dallas now. The AirHogs.”
Harris shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, rubs at the back of his neck, and Jared feels a wave of deja vu. This kid not only looks like his uncle, he’s got the same tells when he’s nervous.
“So you want to try out for the team.” Jared can’t help the feeling of satisfaction at the news that Jensen Ackles has come down in the world. Bastard deserves to be booted out of the game entirely after what he did to the Rangers. After what he did to Jared, all those years ago.
“Yes, sir. I played Little League in Dallas for eight years, sir. I can throw and bat and catch really well. You can ask my uncle.” The kid’s nervous pride makes Jared smile.
“Look, I don’t usually do this, but if you want to come to practice tomorrow after school, I’ll work you into the line-up. On a trial basis.” Jared knows he’s being a push-over. Jensen Ackles never would’ve given Jared the kind of benefit of the doubt that he’s giving Ackles’ nephew, but Jared’s got a good feeling about this kid.
The family resemblance is playing with Jared’s emotions, bringing all kinds of long-buried feelings and memories to the fore.
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be there!”
Jared nods as the kid leaves, a little skip in his step as he half-runs, half-power-walks down the hall.
Jensen Ackles.
As Jared locks the door behind him and starts down the hallway toward the faculty parking lot, he thinks back on his first day in the Majors, the start of an amazing and unforgettable year.
The day he met Jensen Ackles.
//**//**//
2004
“Padalecki!”
Jared jogs onto the field as General Manager Jim Beaver calls his name, waits for his position assignment.
“Centerfield!”
Jared jogs out to center field, only mildly disappointed. He had hoped they’d let him pitch. He knows he’s got the arm for it, and he’s dying to show off to his new teammates. As the youngest draft pick on the Texas Rangers, Jared’s got something to prove. A lot of somethings. He’s impatient and hopeful, stars in his eyes at making the big leagues.
But he’s determined to play his part in his first-ever practice game with a Major League Baseball team. He loves baseball, he’s good at it, and he trusts this team, although it hasn’t been winning games much lately. Jared’s determined to help turn that around.
Beaver finishes calling positions and returns to the dugout, where the other half of the team await their turns at bat. Jared watches as Beaver takes his place next to Coach Ackles, the asshole who hasn’t given Jared so much as a glance since he joined the team.
Jared has the distinct impression that Ackles doesn’t like him. But then again, Ackles doesn’t seem to like anybody. He barks orders like a drill sergeant, which has earned him the nickname “Sarge” among the team. He never uses an encouraging word, seems to only know how to criticize and berate his players.
Jared hates him on principle.
Jared believes in team spirit. He believes team morale depends on a good coach who recognizes talent and rewards it, if only with a smile and a nod.
Ackles doesn’t seem to know how to smile or nod. He yells alot, growls orders, shouts at players who fumble balls, ridicules anyone who makes a mistake, no matter how slight. He assigns his assistant coach or team captain to talk to the team directly, keeping himself aloof from his players unless he’s especially unhappy. No matter how well they play, no matter how hard they work, the team never pleases Ackles.
The first game of the season is against the Houston Astros. The Rangers lose badly, 9-0. Ackles loses it. He yells, rants, upbraids the team for ten solid minutes after the game. Then he assigns extra relays, sets back the start of practice the next day to 6 a.m. before the team flies to California for their first away game against the Anaheim Angels.
The team loses more games than it wins that season, and Jared thinks he knows why. After a particularly brutal loss to the Oakland Athletics, Jared takes is upon himself to confront Ackles in the locker room. The rest of the team had gone on ahead of them to board the bus to the hotel to get a good night’s sleep before the next game tomorrow night, right back here in Oakland’s home stadium. Jared hangs back.
“Coach, I think we’ve got it in us to win this next game,” he offers by way of starting the conversation.
Jensen starts, like he can’t believe Jared dared to speak to him, and Jared realizes with a slight pinch of guilt that he’s never had a one-on-one conversation with the man.
“You got something to say, Padalecki?” Ackles barks, glaring past Jared at the door where the team exited a few moments before.
“Yes, sir, I just think we need a little encouragement,” Jared says. His voice hitches. He sounds stupidly young and ridiculously naive, but he’s in for a pound now. He needs Ackles to hear him. “If you could just let us know when we do something right once in a while.”
Ackles looks up at him, eyes narrowed. Jared swallows. The man is formidable, but he’s also devastatingly attractive, with liquid green eyes and long eyelashes, high cheekbones, and soft, pouty lips. Looks like Jensen’s could be a liability, Jared guesses. They might make it harder for Jensen to be taken seriously.
“You think you’re a good player, Padalecki? Is that what you’re saying? You think you got drafted into the American League because you’re talented? Because you’ve got a gift? Is that it?”
Jared blinks, momentarily distracted by Jensen’s direct gaze. He feels like he could drown in those eyes.
“I think we’re a good team, Coach,” Jared says when he finally manages to get his mouth to work. “I think we’ve got what it takes to win the pennant. We just need you to believe in us. We need your faith.”
Jensen’s mouth tightens, and Jared tries not to stare.
“You know what you need, Padalecki?” Jensen glares at him. “You need to do your fuckin’ job. Think you can do that?”
Jared flinches. He can’t help it. Being yelled at directly isn’t as easy as being yelled at along with the rest of the team. He feels humiliated and angry at the same time. Jensen’s wrong, he’s just sure of it.
Jensen takes advantage of the awkward moment by barking, “Are we done here? Good. Now, get on the bus.”
Jensen brushes past him, leading the way out of the locker room, and Jared follows, tail tucked between his legs.
“Oh, and by the way,” Jensen turns at the door. “You looking for pep talks and spiritual guidance, you talk to Penikett. He’s team captain. He’s the official Team Babysitter. You hear me? My job is to whip you into shape for the next game, and that’s what I aim to do. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Jared mumbles miserably.
Jensen shakes his head. “Rookies,” he mutters irritably as he turns to march out the door.
//**//**//
“What’s wrong with Coach Ackles?” Jared asks Tahmoh Penikett later.
“What’s not wrong with him, you mean?” Penikett chuckles. “Is he being grumpier than usual?”
Jared shakes his head. “He just seems so pissed off all the time.”
Penikett pats him on the shoulder. “Try not to let it get to you. It’s nothing personal. He’s like that with everybody. Hates all of us equally.”
“But why?” Jared persists. “Why go through life like that? I mean, what’s his problem?”
Penikett shrugs. “There’s rumors. Some say he was an up-and-coming ballplayer who had an accident, got injured, and lost his chance to play for the Majors on the cusp of getting drafted. Some say he was just born that way. Nobody really knows.” Penikett dips his chin, looks up at Jared with a sly smile. “My best advice to you, my friend, is to stay clear of him as much as possible.”
Jared nods. He thinks about his confrontation with Ackles in the locker room and shudders. Even if it isn’t personal, the man obviously hates him. No way will Jared put himself in Ackles’ crosshairs again.
//**//**//
Now
“Play ball!”
As the umpire moves into position, Jared’s eyes sweep across the field, checking on his players one by one. It’s the first game of the season, and it’s a beautiful spring day. They got lucky.
Starting pitcher Jimmy Hays kicks the mound, takes his time assessing the situation, just like Jared taught him to do. He scopes out the opposing team’s first batter, nods as catcher Sam Johnson gives the pitcher his cue.
A movement catches Jared’s eye. Shortstop Harris Ackles takes a step to the left, clearly ready to dive for a ground ball. Ackles has done well in practice, which is no surprise. The boy comes from a family of baseball players. He’s got every shot at becoming a good player himself, someday.
But the movement that caught Jared’s eye is behind Harris, in the stands behind right field. Even from a distance, Jared would know that bow-legged swagger anywhere. Jensen Ackles takes a seat in the front row, next to a man who’s built just like him and is obviously related. Ackles’ brother, then. Harris’s dad.
Jared can’t help the flush of anger that courses through his veins. Ackles has some nerve, showing up here. He must know that Jared is his nephew’s coach. How dare he show his face, after everything that happened all those years ago.
Jared takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. He won’t let Ackles get to him, won’t let him shake his focus. Jared’s not that rookie kid who could be ordered around and humiliated anymore. Ackles doesn’t have that hold over him now.
He’ll think about it later.
//**//**//
2004
As the season wears on, Jared wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to show what he’s got. Ackles keeps him benched for nearly every game, only letting him get up to bat when he absolutely has no choice. Jared scores several outs from his center-field position, but Ackles doesn’t seem to notice. Nothing much gets past the team’s shortstop anyway, so Jared rarely gets a moment to shine.
Until he does.
Bottom of the ninth against the Oakland As in the third of five games, Stan Yokum, the team’s pitcher, twists his ankle. Miraculously, Ackles orders Padalecki to the mound. They’re losing, but Jared turns things around, striking out three batters in a row and tying the game. Adrenaline and confidence peaking when it’s his turn at bat, he hits a home-run with loaded bases in overtime, winning the game and turning around the entire series.
The team is ecstatic. They sweep him up as he crosses home base, lifting him high over their heads as the crowd roars.
Coach Ackles glares at them, shaking his head as he turns away from the congratulations aimed his way.
“Wins can make you cocky,” he growls at the team later in the locker room. “We’ve still got a long way to go.” He pins Jared with a particularly hard look. “Don’t let it go to your head, Padalecki. Good luck has a way of turning itself off at the drop of a hat in this game.”
“Yes, sir,” Jared agrees, trying and failing to keep the face-splitting grin off his face.
They don’t win the pennant that year, but they end the season strong, and things start to look up.
//**//**//
Present Day:
“Out!” the umpire declares as Sam Johnson catches Harris’s throw to home base, beating the other team’s runner and ending the game.
The crowd rises to its feet with wild cheering and applause as Harris’s teammates pour out of the dugout and converge on him and Sam from around the field.
Jared glances over at Jensen Ackles. The man is on his feet, clapping and smiling alongside his brother, and Jared files that away to think about later. It occurs to Jared that Jensen’s smile makes his eyes crinkle. His whole face lights up. It’s something Jared’s never seen before, and it surprises the hell out of him. Jensen Ackles proud and happy isn’t something Jared ever expected to see. It disturbs Jared’s impression of the man, and he’s not sure what to make of that.
The team lifts Harris over their heads, carry him around the field in a victory dance as the crowd cheers. Jared accepts the congratulatory handshake of the other team’s coach before organizing his team, getting them into line to graciously thank the other team for a game well played.
“Nice work, Harris,” he tells the boy later in the locker room, after the team has all showered and dressed. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”
“Yes, sir,” Harris nods. He shifts awkwardly, rubbing his chin, and Jared tilts his head.
“Did you have something else to say?” Jared asks.
“My uncle was hoping you’d join us for dinner,” Harris blurts. “He and my dad are planning to drive back to Dallas tonight, but they were hoping you’d join us first.”
Jared’s blood boils. As if. The nerve of that man!
He’s just about to refuse, when his eye catches a movement in the corner, near the door. When Jensen Ackles steps out of the shadow, time slows down. Jared’s plunged back in time, to the night of the accident. The night everything changed forever.
//**//**//
2005:
Jared’s second season with the Rangers, things heat up. The team works well together. Jared gets to play much more than he did his first year, and every time he plays, he scores. The first time Coach Ackles puts him in as pitcher in the starting lineup, he strikes out three batters in a row. Things are looking up.
The game schedule gets brutal once the Rangers make it into the playoffs. When they’re not playing or warming up, they’re on a plane or in a bus on the way to the next night’s game.
The night of the accident, they were supposed to be on a plane. But the weather’s terrible, so flights are all grounded. The team hustles onto a bus for the long drive instead. Jared’s asleep when the bus slides off the road, rolls down a cold, muddy hillside, and lands upside down at the bottom. According to the doctors, he hit his head and broke his shoulder when the bus first went off the road.
The hip injury happened when the bus made its final landing.
When he wakes up, Jared’s in a hospital in Minnesota. His parents are there, along with his little sister. He learns that he’s been in a coma for two weeks. His shoulder is so busted up he may never pitch again. One of his hips has a pin in it. He’s going to need intensive physical therapy to learn to walk again. Running may be off the table permanently.
Three of his teammates lost their lives.
At first, Jared blames Jensen Ackles. He blames the American League for pushing the game schedule so hard that teams are forced to travel in unsafe conditions. He blames General Manager Jim Beaver for not insisting on a postponement of the game due to weather.
Most mostly, he blames Jensen.
It’s irrational. Jared knows that. He’s been in enough therapy since that night to recognize that, at least.
But in his gut, Jared’s convinced that Jensen could’ve made a better call, could’ve saved his team that night. Instead, Ackles’ relentless pushing and endless demands had created unsafe conditions right from the start of the season. In Jared’s mind, Jensen Ackles caused the deaths and injuries of his own team.
Not to mention, the end of Jared’s career in the majors.
//**//**//
Now:
“Hey, Jared. It’s good to see you.”
Jensen’s voice is softer than Jared’s ever heard it. His Texas drawl is more pronounced than he remembers.
Jensen’s never called Jared by his first name before.
Jared’s speechless. Being face-to-face with the man he’s hated more than anyone he’s ever hated in his entire life makes Jared completely lose his ability to move, much less speak. He stares at Jensen in silence for a long, awkward moment, until Jensen gives a soft chuckle and looks away first.
“I guess you’re still mad at me,” he suggests with a little shake of his head. “I don’t blame you. I was a real jerk to you, back then.”
Jared’s lips part, his tongue works but all he can do is swallow.
He and Jensen notice Jensen’s nephew at the same time. The boy has backed away, looking back and forth between his uncle and his coach, and he’s clearly a little freaked out.
Jared finally finds his voice. “Harris, could you give us a minute?”
“Yes, sir,” Harris says, stumbling over his own feet in his attempt to get out of the locker room.
Alone with his former coach, Jared shakes his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. After all these years, you show up and expect me to go out to dinner with you? After everything that happened?”
Jensen’s jaw clenches. He glances at Jared’s face, then looks away again with another soft chuckle.
“Damn, Jared. You really are still pissed at me.”
Jared plants his hands on his hips, draws himself up to his full height. “Of course I am! You pushed us too hard, Coach! You didn’t let us rest or take time off. You made us play when we were injured! You created a team culture that was downright dangerous!”
Jensen makes a short chopping gesture, leaves his hand out, pointed at Jared. “Now wait a minute. I pushed you just as hard as I thought you needed,” he insists. “No more than you could handle. You were a good player, Jared, but you had a tendency to be lazy. Your need to be liked by your teammates could get in the way of your drive.”
Jared bristles. “My need to be liked?” His voice goes up an octave. He’s shaking. “It’s called team spirit, Coach.”
“Bullshit,” Jensen snaps. “When you first started playing for the Rangers, I could see the potential for a good player in you. Maybe even a great one. But not if I babied you. Not if I let you have your way.”
“So you bullied me and ran me ragged?” Jared shouts. “And not just me. The whole team thought you hated us! We worked our butts off to try to make you happy, and all it got us was get us dead or injured at the bottom of an icy ravine in Minnesota!”
“Now wait a minute.” Jensen puts a hand up, palm out. “That was a tragic accident.”
“It was a preventable accident,” Jared insists. “You called the shots that night. You and Beaver could’ve got the game postponed so we could travel safely when the roads were clear the next day. You made that call and three people died!”
To his credit, Jensen winces. Jared can see the guilt in his eyes, the self-doubt.
“It was an accident,” Jensen says quietly, obviously struggling to control his emotions. “No one was to blame for what happened. Not the bus driver, not Jim Beaver, not the League, and not me. It took me years of therapy to finally accept that, but it’s true.”
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should have insisted that we postpone the game. But I didn’t, and I’ve learned to live with that. I have to.”
Jensen’s admission touches something in Jared. His willingness to show Jared the chink in his armor, the vulnerable person under all that tough bluster, takes the wind out of Jared’s sails. His anger drains away as he sees the sadness in Jensen’s eyes, the haunted look of a man who feels deeply responsible for the deaths and suffering of twenty-six baseball players and their families.
Jensen blamed himself. He’s had to learn how to live with what he felt responsible for at the time.
Then Jared has a thought. “That’s why you quit Major League Baseball,” he guesses. “The owners didn’t fire you. You quit.”
“I felt unfit for the majors after that night,” Jensen says with a nod. “Whether it was the pressure of all that responsibility, or the fear of failure, or just poor judgment. I was unfit. It took me ten years to get my head on straight again, get back into coaching.”
“And now you’re coaching the Airhogs,” Jared finishes.
“Managing and coaching,” Jensen nods. “It doesn’t pay much, but I love it. I love the team, and the crazy thing is, they seem to love me, too.”
He looks up at Jared, eyes wide and trusting. He’s even more beautiful than he was fifteen years ago, Jared thinks. Wiser, more sensitive, maybe even more confident than he was back then.
Jared’s not exactly convinced, but he is entranced.
“Now, how about some dinner?” Jensen suggests, almost shyly. “Or do you still hate me too much?”
“I don’t know,” Jared admits honestly. “I don’t think so, but I just don’t know.”
“Fair enough,” Jensen says. “You gotta eat, though, right? And I know my nephew wants you to come. He can’t stop talking about you.”
So Jared finds himself at the local Brew Pub, wedged into a booth next to Jensen, across the table from Harris and his dad, Josh. Josh regales them with stories of his and Jensen’s upbringing in a Dallas suburb, and Jared tries not to think about how warm and good Jensen’s thigh feels, pressed against his under the table.
Jensen’s like a changed man. He’s quiet and reflective, a stark contrast to his boisterous, gregarious brother. Harris gets more than just his good looks from his uncle, Jared realizes. Their personalities are similar.
That observation makes Jared more curious about Jensen. What had happened to make him into the drill sergeant from Hell that Jared remembers too well? How had this mild-mannered man from a loving, intact family turned into such a monster?
They’re halfway through dessert before Jared gets his answer.
“Jensen almost made it into the majors,” Josh says conversationally. “Number one draft pick right out of high school. Astros scouts came to watch him play, made him and our folks an offer right there in the living room.”
“Really?” Jared glances at Jensen, who’s busy looking down at his plate. As Jared watches, a slow blush creeps up Jensen’s cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. The look he throws Jared is so helpless and terrified it almost makes Jared feel sorry for him. “What happened?”
“He got the flu, is what happened,” Josh says. “Sick for weeks. By the time he recovered, the scouts had moved on.”
“Wow,” Jared says, genuine sympathy for Jensen surprising him. “That’s some really bad luck.”
Josh shakes his head. “This game’s all about luck, isn’t it? Luck and weird, crazy talent.”
“Or math, if you believe Billy Beane,” Jared notes.
“Nah,” Josh says. “Baseball’s too mystical for math. Give me The Natural or Field of Dreams any day over Moneyball.”
Jared grins, ducks his head. He catches Jensen watching him, thoughtful look on his face.
“In my experience, baseball’s a combination of luck, faith, talent, and hard work,” he says, mostly for Harris’s benefit. “Maybe a little math, too.”
Jared can feel Jensen’s approval. Jensen’s thigh moves against his. The older man leans his shoulder against Jared’s and leaves it there.
It’s been a while since Jared was hit on by anyone as attractive as Jensen. The mothers of his players and students notwithstanding, Jared hasn’t been hit on by anyone in some time.
With no small measure of surprise, Jared realizes he doesn’t mind in the least. Being hit on by Jensen Ackles is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.
Not by a long shot.
//**//**//
Jensen texts him from Dallas the next day.
“Are you free Saturday night?”
“No,” Jared texts back. “I’ve got a game.”
“How about Sunday?”
They meet at a brewery halfway between San Antonio and Dallas. It’s run by Jensen’s ex-wife and former brother-in-law, who seem almost as pleased to meet him as Jensen’s brother had been. It’s their first date, so it’s a little early to meet the family, but Jared can’t help feeling that’s what’s happening.
“So how long have you two been not-married?” Jared can’t help asking after Danneel and her brother leave them to eat their barbecue in peace.
“About three years,” Jensen answers. “About as long as we were married, actually. Danneel saw me through some tough times, so at a certain point, it seemed like a good idea to get married. But the truth is, we’re better as just friends. She’s a good buddy.”
Jared nods as he takes a bite, sips his beer.
“What about you?” Jensen asks, and when Jared raises a quizzical eyebrow, Jensen follows up with, “Ever been married?”
Jared shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. “A couple of longish relationships, but nothing that lasted.” He looks down at his plate, suddenly shy. “I guess I just never found the right guy.”
When he looks up again, Jensen’s smiling, dimples and eye crinkles on full display. Jared’s struck by how good Jensen looks when he smiles. It suits him, gives him a warmth and depth that Jared never noticed before. Jared can’t remember Jensen ever smiling, back in their days with the Rangers.
“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can do about that,” Jensen teases.
Jared blushes, shakes his head.
“What?” Jensen asks.
“You’re just so different from what I remember,” Jared admits.
“It’s been fifteen years, Jared,” Jensen reminds him. “People change.”
They part that night with a kiss and a promise to see each other against the following weekend. Jensen’s mouth is warm and pliant. He feels strong and solid in Jared’s arms. Jared’s a little disappointed when Jensen doesn’t ask him to stay, but he’s grateful, too. He needs time to process the new feelings he’s having for Jensen. He’s still not sure how he feels about everything that happened, all those years ago.
“You know, I was in therapy for years after that night,” Jared admits to Jensen the next week over another barbecue and beer dinner. “I was so angry. Angry at you, angry at the situation. Bitter for losing my pitching arm and not being able to run like I did before.”
“I was full of resentment, before the accident,” Jensen confesses. “All of you who had what I lost made me crazy with jealousy. It wasn’t fair. Especially you. Waltzing right in at the age of 22, having everything just handed to you.”
Jared shakes his head. “I was too cocky,” he says. “Too full of myself. I should have remembered to be more grateful. I was so lucky, and I just took it for granted.”
“You were so young and beautiful,” Jensen muses. “I think I was a little in love with you. Which terrified me, of course. I probably overcompensated for those feelings by being an even bigger ass to you.”
Jared’s face breaks into a grin. “You could’ve fooled me! I thought you hated me!”
They part that night with another kiss and the promise of another date. Jared thinks about Jensen every minute when they’re apart, remembers the taste of his kiss, hopes for more until the anticipation is killing him.
Tonight, we get a room, he vows as he makes the two-and-a-half hour drive to Waco the following Sunday. He’s got the next day off for Memorial Day, and he’s just spent another week jacking off to thoughts of Jensen’s mouth, Jensen’s skin. He appreciates how slow Jensen’s been taking things, but after three weeks, Jared’s ready to take the next step.
Hell, he’s ready to ask Jensen to marry him.
But at the very least, he wants them to get naked together. He wants to lay Jensen out on a bed and go down on him, taste him all over his pale, freckled body.
Jim Beaver sits at their usual table.
“Just dropping by,” he assures Jared as they shake hands. “I’m retired now. Too much time on my hands. Thought I’d drop by the brewery to see how things are going.”
When Jensen leaves the table for a few minutes, Jim leans across to Jared.
“You know, he spent that first night in your hospital room, watching over you until your parents arrived,” Jim confides. “He never let on how much he cared, but he cared.”
Jim excuses himself when Jensen gets back, and Jared wonders if he’ll meet Jensen’s parents next. Maybe they’ll just drop by, too.
Jared watches Jensen eat, watches his lips move, his adam’s apple bob.
Jensen finally notes. He smiles and blushes and it’s adorable.
“I’ve got a motel room for tonight,” Jared tells him. “You should stay.”
Jensen swallows, takes a sip of his beer, and nods. “Okay.”
Jared’s hands twitch as he leads the way to the motel. It seems to take forever to drive, park, make their way into Jared’s room. When the door shuts behind them, Jared doesn’t hesitate. He pushes Jensen up against the wall, devouring his mouth as he slides his hands over Jensen’s body, tugging aside offending clothing.
Jensen’s just as eager. He bites at Jared’s lips when Jared pulls back to shrug out of his shirt and yank the t-shirt off underneath. They separate only long enough to kick off their shoes, pull off their socks, unbuckle their belts, and shove their jeans and boxers down.
“Been wanting to do this all week,” Jared breathes as he sinks to his knees in front of a newly-naked Jensen, wraps a hand around his erection, and swallows it down.
Jensen gives a little hitched cry. His head tips back and his eyes close. Jared’s hands slide around Jensen’s hips to his ass, pulling him in deeper as Jensen’s hands slide into Jared’s hair.
Jared’s given blow jobs before, but the way Jensen comes hard and fast and sudden tells him that it’s been a while since Jensen’s had one.
Or maybe Jared’s just that good.
He rises to his feet, gathers Jensen’s boneless body in his arms, and kisses him deep, making sure Jensen can taste himself on Jared’s tongue.
Jensen’s eyes flutter open halfway as Jared guides his pliant body to the bed, gets him spread out on it so Jared can kneel over him and look his fill.
“I should - I can -” Jensen waves at Jared’s erection as his eyes close again.
But Jared shakes his head and wraps a hand around himself.
“I got this,” he says as he strokes himself. “Wanna come all over you. Been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you.”
“Okay.” Jensen tips his head back, exposing his throat, and parts his full, plush lips. He folds one arm up over his head and lets his bow legs fall open a little wider, posing like a centerfold.
It’s the hottest thing Jared’s ever seen. He comes hard and fast, painting Jensen’s freckled chest all the way to his chin. He lets himself observe his handiwork as he comes down, before collapsing on the bed next to Jensen, reaching down beside the bed to retrieve his t-shirt and dropping it on Jensen’s chest.
Jensen chuckles as he wipes himself off.
“You mean we could’ve had hate sex all those years ago?”
“Nah.” Jared shakes his head. “Never would’ve happened, back then.”
“Would’ve been hot, though,” Jensen murmurs.
“Don’t think I never thought about it,” Jared agrees with a grin.
“Bet you could hold me up against the wall in the locker room,” Jensen suggests. “Fuck me hard and dirty.”
Jared’s spent cock twitches. “More like bend you over one of the benches with a sweaty uniform shoved into that pretty face of yours.”
“Give me exactly what I deserve,” Jensen purrs, teasing and sultry at the same time.
“Stuff my cock down your throat until you choke,” Jared agrees.
“Teach me a lesson I’ll never forget.”
Jared turns his head, stares into Jensen’s half-mast green eyes. “You know I don’t hate you anymore,” he says softly.
“But we could still do the hate sex thing,” Jensen notes, raising an eyebrow.
Jared grins. “Yeah, okay. Just give me a minute.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting old,” Jensen teases. “Fifteen-years-younger You wouldn’t need any recovery time at all.”
Jared huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, alright, Grandpa. Don’t rub it in. At least I’m still younger than you.”
They grin happily at each other for another moment, and it occurs to Jared that Jensen has been planning this for a very long time. Jensen’s been hoping that Jared would come around for more than just these past three weeks. That explains why Jensen’s been taking it so slow.
He wants it to work between them.
“Did your wife know about your crush on me?”
It’s bold of Jared to ask, but he can’t help himself.
“I might have mentioned it,” Jensen admits with a little frown. “She knew I was bi, and she knew I had a type, where guys were concerned.”
Jared shakes his head. “So all those years you were pining for me, and when I thought about you, it wasn’t in a good way.”
“It wouldn’t have worked back then,” Jensen insists. “We would’ve had an angry one-night stand, at best. I had too much shit to work out. And you were.”
“Young,” Jared finishes. “Yeah. I was.”
He rolls onto his side and props up on an elbow, gazing down at Jensen thoughtfully. He reaches out to touch Jensen’s face, traces his features with the tips of his fingers.
“So how long have you been planning this?”
“A little over a year,” Jensen admits. He leans into Jared’s touch. “Josh was looking for a good high school for Harris, and I thought of you. Then I did a little research, found out you were single, and.”
“You hatched your dastardly plan,” Jared concludes. “Using your nephew to soften me up.”
Jensen shrugs. “Worked, didn’t it?”
Jared lets his thumb slide across Jensen’s plush bottom lip, then leans down to kiss him.
“Yeah, it did,” he murmurs as he captures Jensen’s mouth.
fin