Mr. Ackles' Flower Shop - Part 4

[bad_peppermint]

Part 3

By the time Jensen finally admitted defeat and closed Landon’s Introductory Plant Biology, his vision was swimming and his head pounding. He hadn’t made any noticeable progress, he was tired and irritable, and even the feel of Jared’s elbow brushing against his own grated on his nerves instead of soothing them.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said.

Lindsey looked up with a hesitant smile, most likely ready to give up herself, but Jared tapped the page he was reading thoughtfully.

“Hang on a moment,” he said.

“Did you find something?” Jensen asked.

“I have an idea,” Jared said slowly. His eyes flickered to Jensen, but he looked away when Jensen tried to meet his gaze. “You’re not going to like it, though.”

“Tell me?” Jensen said anyway.

Jared wouldn’t look at him. “Your mother’s theory,” he said. “A constrictor plant that captures rather than strangles.”

“No,” Jensen said. He couldn’t breathe, and for a moment it was as if it had already gotten a hold of him. “Jared, no.”

“You’re brilliant, Jensen, and we’d never work on it alone,” Jared said quickly. His eyes were wide and dark. “We’d be careful, Jensen.”

“That’s what she said, too,” Jensen snapped at him, and went to hide himself at the very back of his greenhouse, where the leaves were almost impenetrable and he could breathe, just a little.

When he returned to the counter, a good half hour later and noticeably calmer, Jared was still sat where Jensen had left him.

“I’m sorry,” he said the moment he laid eyes on Jensen. “We’ll think of something else.”

“No, it’s.” Jensen swallowed against his dry throat. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

He could tell from the looks on his friends’ faces that they didn’t believe him, but that was alright. It was fine, as long as they got this over with.

~

The constrictor plant was so big that Sheppard had to bring two more men with him to help him carry it in. It was wrapped up in netting and canvas and as immobilized as they could possibly make it, and Jensen still felt a sharp, cold shudder run down his spine.

He didn’t think he let it show, but at their vantage point at the doorway, Jared let one hand rest at the small of Jensen’s back. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The sharp, tense line of Jensen’s shoulders probably said it all.

Sheppard spent several minutes hovering by the door, asking questions just this side of nosy, but he bid them a hasty goodbye when Jared leveled a truly impressive glare at him.

“Thank you,” Jensen said once he’d gone, his smile just a little shaky.

Jared waves his words away. “He was ridiculous,” he said. He draped his arm over Jensen’s shoulders and gave the constrictor a thoughtful look. “You ready for this?”

Jensen wasn’t, probably wouldn’t ever be, but he still took a deep breath and shrugged out of Jared’s comforting hold. “Let’s get to it,” he said.

~

They didn’t. Instead, on the day they’d set to begin their treatment, Jared pulled Jensen aside. He eased himself onto one of the stools at the counter and looked down at his hands.

“Jensen,” he said quietly. “Jensen, are you sure?”

“I said I was, didn’t I?” Jensen snapped at him.

Jared didn’t look up, but Jensen could see him flinch, and that more than anything allowed the tension to leak out of him, leaving nothing but regret and a heavy heart.

He took a slow step closer, and then another, until he was close enough to take Jared’s hands in his own. “Jared,” he said. “Look at me, please.”

Jared did, after a moment, and Jensen smiled at him. It was small, he knew that, but it was real, and from the way Jared sat up a little straighter, his friend knew that, too.

He ducked his head a little, letting his gaze drop to their clasped hands. They looked so similar now, calloused and stained with dirt and sap where only a few weeks ago, anyone would have been able to tell them apart by nothing but their fingers.

Jensen brushed the pad of his thumb over Jared’s knuckles. His smile came more easily this time. “Jared,” he repeated. “I’m not going to lie and say it’s easy, because it isn’t. But please trust me when I say that it’s okay.”

“I just.” Jared ducked his head. “I just don’t want to make you unhappy, Jensen. It wouldn’t be worth it.” He squeezed Jensen’s hands between his own. “It wouldn’t ever be worth it.”

“Thank you,” Jensen said quietly. “Thank you, but. We should do this. We can do this.”

“If you’re sure,” Jared said, and didn’t raise the matter again.

~

“We could call her Constance,” Jared offered. “You know, give the fear a name?”

Jensen stared at him for a moment, earnestly afraid for his friend’s sanity. Then he deflated. “Sure,” he said. “Constance it is.”

~

“Alright,” Jared said slowly. “So if we use essence of the dracaena to ease Constance’s aggression and add sap from the felicitas as a sedative, then Constance should theoretically still give in to its predatory instincts and pounce, but without actually crushing whoever it’s gotten a hold of, right?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Jensen agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We should probably repeat the process several times,” Jared said. “Just to be sure.”

Jensen nodded his assent. “We should start as soon as possible,” he said, but that didn’t mean the blade in his hands wasn’t quivering when he made the first cut, Constance roiling angrily underneath the netting.

Jared didn’t comment on it.

~

It was hard to remember that the rest of his shop also needed tending to, with the constrictor plant constantly occupying Jensen’s thoughts, but when Jensen discovered that long-fingered fern had somehow appropriated a child’s barrette, he also recalled the clinger.

He’d banished it to the back room some two weeks earlier, when it had latched onto a customer browsing the shop with her little boy, and it had taken Jensen almost twenty minutes to extract her. The customer, suffice to say, had not bought anything - she hadn’t even stuck around long enough for Jensen to offer her another, complementary flower in recompense. So Jensen had sighed and taken the clinger to the back until someone asked for it or until the incident had become less painful in Jensen’s mind. But there was still the matter of maintaining the clinger’s good health - there wasn’t much for it to latch onto in the storeroom, not much for it to damage itself with, but Jensen wasn’t willing to take any risks.

Still, the mostly hazard-free environment meant the task was quickly done as well as generally mindless, and he entertained himself with humming snatches of songs and shuffling his feet in place, careful to stay far from Constance’s reach, and he continued to do so even after he’d realized that the songs stuck in his head were the ones he’d listened to with Jared on his old radio. He didn’t even mind that he was smiling.

He heard the bell above the doorway jingle while he was still elbows deep in soil, so he called a “Just a moment!” and set about extracting himself from the clinger’s steely grip. It took him a while, stems and leaves winding around his forearms with grim determination, but in the end he managed without doing any damage to the plant, and he only had to raise his voice twice.

He rinsed the bright blue residue the clinger liked to leave behind off his skin in the sink and slid into the shop, a warm smile and an apology already on his lips, but when he saw who was waiting for him, both froze on his face.

His customers were Gabe and the willowy William, but instead of clinging to each other the way they usually did, they were standing a full four feet apart, a tabletop flowerbed between them. It was a jarring sight, and Jensen stared at them for a moment before he even registered their low, but heated voices.

William had cut his hair, short enough that when he ran his fingers through it, he left a jungle of unruly strands in their wake. “Gabe,” he said, stuttered, choking on the word, but when Gabe’s eyes softened in sympathy, William’s own blazed up.

“You always do this,” he hissed. “Every time, Gabe. Every - single - time.” He choked again, sucked in a breath of frustration and let his head drop, hands pressed against the table’s surface.

Gabe, it seemed, might have been sympathetic to William’s plight, but that didn’t mean he was any less angry. “Maybe if you’d learn to have a little bit of a sense of humor, then we wouldn’t have to have this fight every damn time.”

“Oh, I don’t have a sense of humor, do I?” William bit out.

“Gentlemen,” Jensen said, raising his hands imploringly, but they were too preoccupied to pay him much attention.

“If you do, you certainly hide it well,” Gabe hissed. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “God, just. Why do you always have to take everything so seriously?”

“Why can’t you ever take anything seriously?” William snapped back. He pushed his fingers into his hair. “You know what, this is ridiculous. I’m going home.”

And without giving either Gabe or Jensen a chance to react, he brushed past them and out the door.

“Bill, you get back here,” Gabe snarled, already stalking after him. The door swung closed behind him and then clattered back open from the force, and Jensen rushed to close it. He peered through the glass panes into the street, but the only thing he saw was Gabe’s coat flaring as he turned a corner. William was nowhere to be seen.

~

Working on Constance was possibly the most nerve-wracking thing Jensen had ever done. Even with Jared in the room, even after the initial treatments when the plant was already proving to be far more docile than it had in the beginning, he constantly expected to find branches and leaves wrapping around his torso to squeeze the life out of him.

The day they declared the treatment finished, the day Jared handed the plant a balloon and they both watched Constance wrap limbs and leaves around it tightly without actually popping it, Jensen vowed to not return to the back room until the damn thing was gone.

~

"Are you alright?" someone asked mildly, and Jensen startled away from the ledger he was attempting to update.

"My apologies," he said earnestly, especially when the speaker turned out to be the well-dressed gentleman, Adam, smiling at him from the other side of the counter.

He was wearing black today, with rows of polished gold buttons running down the length of his coat and soft-looking leather gloves on his hands. Hovering at his elbow was another man in a more traditional topcoat-and-cravat combination, a fringe of blonde hair falling into his eyes and a pair of welder's goggles slung around his neck.

"You came back," he remarked, a little belatedly.

Adam nodded with a good-natured smile. "I did," he says. "And I've been telling all my friends about you."

"He really has," the man at his side put in.

Adam glared at him briefly, but there was without a doubt a fond look in his eyes. "This is Tommy," he said, running his hand down the man's arm. "He likes to think he's funny."

"I'm hilarious," Tommy said.

Adam rolled his eyes, even though he was grinning. "Go look at flowers, or something," he said, pushing Tommy into the greenhouse. "Go. Go!"

Tommy went, flashing them a glimpse of his tongue over his shoulder, and Adam watched him go for a moment before he turned back to the conversation at hand.

"Are you sure you're alright, Jensen?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Jensen said, which was true enough.

Adam fixed him with a critical look. "Is your heart giving you trouble?" he asked seriously. "Are you tragically in love with some thoughtless Adonis?"

Jensen, who really didn't want to get into the details of business espionage and childhood traumas, simply nodded.

"That's a shame." Adam shook his head. "You're lovely, Jensen. I really can't see you becoming all shy around some attractive boy."

Jensen twisted his lips into a wry smile. "It's different when it matters," he said.

"Isn't it just?" Adam cast quick glance in Tommy's direction. "But we shouldn't let boys, no matter how attractive, make us sad, don't you think?"

"If only I could take my mind off these things," Jensen said, more dramatically than he really felt.

Adam nodded knowledgably. "Come distract yourself, then," he said. He tucked his hand into the crook of Jensen's elbow, despite being just that little bit taller than Jensen was. "Come, Jensen. Tell me all about your lovely flowers."

"Please do," Tommy put in, emerging from the leaves. He had a couple stuck in his hair. "And come tell me why you're keeping this one in a cage."

Jensen had a good idea which one he was speaking of, but he stayed silent until Tommy had let them over to a birdcage hanging from the rafters, where a large ball of fluff was inching back and forth across the bottom.

"Tumbling cotton," Jensen said, freeing himself from Adam's grip and reaching up to undo the latch on the door. "This is one of the particularly mobile ones." He lifted the plant out and set it down on the tiles, where it immediately rolled forward and bumped into the tips of Tommy's boots. "I let it out at night or on a slow day, but I try to keep it up here where I can keep an eye on it when there are customers."

The plant did a quick circuit of Tommy's legs, and then Adam's, before it bumped into Tommy's shoes again. Jensen intercepted it before it could hype itself up, or disappear underneath the display tables, lifted it up and set it down on top of one. Both Adam and Tommy were watching raptly, and Jensen grinned at them both.

"Children in particular are always tempted to play with it, and I prefer not to let that happen."

Tommy nodded. "Because it's fragile?"

"Because of this." Jensen parted the cottony fluff to prod at one of the sensitive flowerbuds underneath, and then quickly snatched his finger back when the plant immediately raised vicious, inch-long thorns in defense. "That's really not one you want to have to explain to the parents."

"Soft on the outside, hm?" Tommy grinned, quick and easy. "I can dig that."

Jensen waited until the thorns had retracted back underneath the flower's soft white outside before he lifted it into Tommy's arms. "Keep your hands away from the blossoms," he said. "And avoid giving it caffeine. You'll never catch it again."

Tommy grinned again, but it was more at the plant he was holding than at Jensen.

Adam, in the meantime, had turned away to look at the flowers arranged nearby, frowning at some, grinning at others. "What about this one?" he asked, pointing out a midnight lantern.

"It glows in the dark," Jensen said. "But only if it's been raining."

Adam laughed delightedly. "Why are you hiding these in the back?" he asked. "They should be front and center, if you ask me."

"They're the more dramatic plants," Jensen said. "Most of them are a little volatile, and quite demanding, so they tend not to sell that well."

Adam shook his head in disbelief. "I love these," he said, trailing his finger over the stem of a roaring lily. "Why get something boring when you can get something like this?"

"There's no accounting for taste," Jensen said neutrally, because he tended more towards the understated, undervalued plans himself.

Adam scoffed but didn't pursue the topic. Instead, he pointed at one particular specimen, unremarkable except for what it was covered in. "What's this?" he asked. "Is that glitter?"

"Pollen," Jensen said, hiding his grin behind a thoughtful hand. "There aren't many individual plants, so it does shed rather violently."

Adam lifted the plant into the air, immediately covering his hands, the front of his coat and even the tip of his nose in the silvery substance. He sneezed, digging out a handkerchief at the very last second, and then smiled wryly. "I see what you mean."

"I could get you a clothesbrush," Jensen offered.

The other man waved him off. "I don't mind," he said. "I like this one. Tommy, I assume you want that ball of fluff?"

Tommy looked up from whatever he had been crooning to the tumbling cotton. The desire in his eyes was plain to read, and Adam huffed fondly.

"We'll get it," he said. "It's ugly, but we'll get it."

"Your face is ugly," Tommy muttered, but let Adam lead him back to the counter.

Adam overpaid dramatically while Jensen wrapped up their purchases and wouldn't take no for an answer. "Consider it a tip for the entertainment," he said. He took his glittery plant with one hand and draped the other arm over Tommy's shoulders. "Say goodbye, Tommy."

"Goodbye," Tommy said, rolling his eyes.

Adam ushered him towards the door, although he passed briefly on the threshold and fixed Jensen with a grave look. "Things will work out for you, Jensen," he said. "I'm sure of it."

Jensen smiled and waved at them both, but it felt a little forced. Adam was sure. If only Jensen could be that certain.

~

“Delivery!” came the call from the back door, and Jensen let out a quick curse. He’d forgotten about that entirely, and most of the back room was now taken up by the constrictor. There just wasn’t any way he could let Sheppard bumble around back there.

Instead, he met Lindsey’s eyes for a significant moment before he went over to pull open the front door instead. “Around here, please,” he called, and a moment later, Sheppard stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, bumping the corner of his crate against the frame.

“What’s wrong with the back door?” he asked, once he’d set his load down.

“I’m afraid I’ve been working on a new plant that’s taking up most of the room,” Jensen said, trying for kind but implacable, as he returned to his seat. “The one you brought by the other day. I really can’t let you back there.”

“Oh really.” Sheppard seemed to try hard to look surprised, but he really wasn’t a very good actor. “That’s fascinating,” he went on. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Quite a bit, actually.” Jensen eased his sheet of notes between the pages of Systematics and Evolution of Unusual Plants. “It comes with the territory.”

“You’re a bioengineer?” Sheppard asked. His greedy stare unnerved Jensen enough that he tucked his hands against his knees to stop himself from fidgeting.

“I’m a florist,” he said, perhaps a little more forcefully than strictly necessary. “That’s why I own a flower shop.”

“Of course, of course,” Sheppard said easily, but the look in his eyes didn’t quite fade, and Jensen struggled to keep the smile on his face when he asked, more lightly than he felt, “So, have you gotten everything unloaded, then?”

“Oh! Yes. I mean, yes.” Sheppard took a startled step backwards, as if he couldn’t quite remember what it was he was supposed to be doing. “Yes. I suppose I should be going now.”

“I suppose so,” Jensen said, and walked him to the door, and made sure to close the door firmly after him.

“Who was that?” Lindsey asked, frowning, once Jensen had returned.

“The delivery guy who replaced Bernie.” Jensen couldn’t quite hide his scowl, and he could tell she noticed immediately.

“The one you think is spying for Pellegrino?” she asked.

It sounded ridiculous like that, and Jensen shook his head. “Something’s off about him, that’s all,” he said.

Lindsey opened her mouth, no doubt to ask further questions, but Jensen was saved by Jared bursting in the door with the widest grin on his face.

“Full marks on my midterm, say what,” he crowed, and proceeded to perform a silly little victory dance right there on Jensen’s doorstep. Then he quickly closed the door and came closer, hesitating when he saw their faces.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”

“Jensen thinks the delivery guy is spying on him,” Lindsey scoffed. She slung her bag over her shoulder, ignoring Jensen’s blazing cheeks. “I’ve got to go pick something up, but I’ll be back in a little while, okay?” She squeezed Jensen’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, you’ll get grey hairs.”

Jensen already had grey hairs, but he refrained from saying anything until Lindsey had left, waving merrily over her shoulder.

“Spying for Pellegrino?” Jared confirmed. His long fingers toyed with the hem of his vest. “You really think Pellegrino would do that?”

“I really would, yes,” Jensen said. And he would. He didn’t want to think like that, but when it came down to it, he thought Pellegrino capable of just about anything.

“Why do you dislike him so much?” Jared pushed his fists into his pockets, shoulders hunching up around his ears. “You seem to get along with just about anybody.”

“Besides the fact that I see no reason to cheat my customers out of their hard-earned money?” Jensen asked, raising a brow.

Jared nodded. “Yes, besides that,” he said. “Jensen, I’m sorry, but I know you pretty well by now, and this isn’t just your usual ethical rambling.” He waved a helpless hand. “It feels personal, this time.”

“The crimson felicitas.” Jensen looked down at his hands. “It’s addictive,” he said, after a moment. “If the exposure is too intense - and it would be, were I to make the changes Mark wants to make; when used too frequently, and in too high a dosage, the body starts to crave the sensation, and the detoxification process is something no one should have to go through.”

Jared picked at the sleeve of his shirt. “You must have attempted a change yourself,” he said. “To be so aware of all the side effects.”

Jensen pressed his lips into a thin line and forced himself not to look away. “I did, yes.”

“Oh,” Jared said softly.

“It’s not him I have a problem with,” Jensen said. “Not really. It’s his ethics. His complete and utter lack thereof.”

~

“I’m back,” Lindsey announced, sweeping in the door just as dramatically as she’d left. She had a giant roll of canvas tucked under one arm, and a sheet of paper in her hand that she presented to Jensen.

“Voila,” she said. “Here’s your plan.”

“’Jensen Ackles Original’?” Jensen read off the invoice. He blinked. “Lindsey, what is this?”

“Advertising,” she said. “Hey, Jared, take that end.”

“Is that a banner?” Jensen asked.

“Yes,” Lindsey said. “Obviously.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows at her. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’ve brought me a banner?”

Lindsey fixed him with a stern look. “Well, it’s not as if Mr. Pellegrino’s just going to waltz in here without a reason to, is it? He’s not stupid.”

That was true, unfortunately, though it would have made Jensen’s life a whole lot easier if he was. But it didn’t automatically mean that Jensen was entirely on board with the deception.

“What about the customers who are going to come in, expecting a ‘Jensen Ackles Original?’ They’re not going to be pleased.”

Lindsey glared at him. “They’re not going to be pleased if you go bankrupt, either.”

“Alright, fine.” Jensen turned away, throwing his hands into the air. “We’ll put up the banners.”

Lindsey’s stormy expression instantly turned sweet. “Thank you,” she said, and directed Jared to stand further back.

Jared, his hands full of waxed canvas, shrugged easily. “I kind of like it,” he said. “It’s very dramatic.”

There turned out to be two banners, not one, both reading NEW JENSEN ACKLES ORIGINAL - COMING SOON in blocky black letters.

“Lovely,” Jensen couldn’t help but comment, once she and Jared had unfurled it for him to inspect.

“It’s nice of her to help out, though,” Jared pointed out, and it was, it really was, so Jensen leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Lindsey’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he said. “Will you help me string it up?”

“Do you own dirty work,” Lindsey said, crossing her arms, but Jensen could see her fighting a pleased little smile.

~

They hung up one of the banners outside, across the greenhouse windows, blocking the view from the street, and the other above the water tank since there wasn’t really anywhere else for them to put it.

“It was a special offer,” Lindsey said when Jensen asked, and then primly gathered up her bag. “I’m going on a date,” she said. “Jensen, stop scowling. It’ll work, and that’s what’s important.”

“She’s right, you know,” Jared said once she’d breezed out the door. “We’ve got the plant. Now we just need to draw him in.”

“I know,” Jensen said, looking away.

A moment later, Jared’s hand settled on Jensen’s shoulder. “I should go too, it’s getting late,” he said. He squeezed gently. “It’ll be fine, Jensen,” he said. “You’ll see.”

~

Despite their reassurances, however, nothing happened for another two days - days that seemed to drag on forever. Jensen checked on Constance every morning, peeking through the door at the hulking plant in the storeroom. He stayed as far away from it as he physically could, leaving even the most urgent tasks for some other day because he couldn’t bring himself to even edge into the room and go through his supplies.

He was so intent on one day seeing Mark in his back room, limbs trapped among the plant’s coiling branches, that he was entirely caught off guard when he looked up at the sign of the doorbell to find the man standing in front of him instead.

“Hello, Jensen,” he said easily. He nodded his head, he said, indicating the second oversized banner that they had strung up. “You’re gracing the world with another one of your creations, I see.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” Jensen’s voice remained remarkably calm. “What are you doing here, Mark?”

Mark smiled pleasantly. “A little bird told me you’re working on something new,” he said. “I just wanted to come see it for myself.”

“You won’t,” Jensen said. He lifted his chin. “You can wait to see it just like everyone else.”

“What if I don’t want to wait?” Mark asked, lips quirking into a teasing smile. When Jensen scowled at him, it merely grew wider.

Jensen gripped his hand and tugged him behind the dracaena, out of immediate sight from the door. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him in an argument in his own shop.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” he hissed, “but this ends right now. I’m tired of your games, do you hear me? I don’t want to work with you, and I’m not ever going to work with you, and I want you to leave.”

Mark tilted his head at that, considering, and maybe he would have or maybe he wouldn’t, but Jensen would never know because that was the precise moment the bell above the door let out a happy jangle. Jensen drew in a sharp breath, because it was Jared, of course it was Jared, waggling his fingers at the mockingbird in the tank by the door. With his head turned away, Jensen only caught a sideways glance of Jared’s smile.

Mark followed his gaze, and his smile, Jensen could fully appreciate. “My, my,” he said, gaze intent, before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Jensen’s lips.

Jensen was so completely, utterly floored that it didn’t even occur to him to push Mark away. He simply stood, motionless and wide-eyed, Mark’s lips firm but gentle against his own. A moment later, they heard Jared’s soft “Oh,” and Mark pulled away from Jensen and turned to Jared with a faint smile on his lips.

“My apologies,” he said. “I just had to steal Jensen here away for a moment. It’s all my fault, I promise.”

“That’s - okay,” Jared muttered. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and it occurred to Jensen suddenly that Jared had no idea who this was, who Mark was and why Jensen would never, ever even consider kissing him.

Mark smiled widely, and thumbed fondly at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “I should get going. I’ll see you, Jensen,” Mark said, and then pressed another kiss to Jensen’s lips before he strolled casually away.

He left the door open, of course, but Jensen didn’t move until a sharp noise had him flinching and looking up. Jared had his hand still on the door where he’d pushed it shut, gaze still on his feet, shoulders tense as if he were angry.

“Jared,” Jensen said.

“It’s alright,” Jared said stiffly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Jared,” Jensen said. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s fine,” Jared insisted. “You can be with whoever you want. I mean, I’m happy with Genevieve. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be happy too.”

Jensen had wanted to insist that he had neither asked for nor encouraged Mark’s attention, but hearing Genevieve’s name from Jared’s lips startled him into silence. Jared didn’t care who Jared was with because Jared was a good guy and didn’t mind that Jensen was gay, but he also didn’t care who Jensen was with because he was with someone else, and Jensen would do well to remember that.

“In fact,” Jared said, “in fact, I think I was supposed to meet her right now, so I’m going to go.”

He fumbled blindly for the doorknob, practically tripping over his feet in his haste to get away.

Jensen scooped up the creeping parvifolium that hovered just by the door, pressing it against his chest. “I guess it’s just you and me, now,” he whispered.

Unlike it had in the past, it really didn’t make him feel any better.

~

The incident with Jared had Jensen so preoccupied that he almost forgot about the plant hulking in his storeroom. So when he opened the door to quickly snatch the shears from the worktable, the last thing he was expecting was to find the window open, and Mark trapped in the constrictor’s flexible branches. His eyes blazed when he caught sight of Jensen, but seeing how one of Constance’s broad leaves had wrapped itself firmly around his jaw, he could not do more than glare.

Jensen made himself meet Mark’s eyes for a moment, and then he went and dialed Jared’s number with shaking fingers.

~

“Where is he?” Jared asked, as soon as he’d stepped across the threshold. Jensen was thankful for it, because Jared’s face was just as stormy as it had been when he’d left the shop the day before, and it almost made Jensen regret his decision to call him. Almost.

Jensen wordlessly pointed at the door to the storage room.

Jared went to open the door, taking in the sight before him. Jensen peered over his shoulder, deeply thankful that the plant had shifted, hiding most of Mark’s body from view. The sight of the two legs protruding from the plant’s coiled mass was unsettling, but Jensen didn’t think he wanted to look at the man’s face, ever again.

“Alright,” Jared said, pulling the door quietly shut. “Is that who you thought it was?”

Jensen nodded. “Even if I’m not sure why,” he said. “Why wouldn’t he just hire someone else to do his dirty work?”

“Probably didn’t want to risk it getting back to him,” Jared said. He shrugged. “Besides, I’m not sure I’d know where to go if I wanted to hire a petty criminal to break into someone’s shop. Would you?”

Jensen wrapped his arms around his middle. “I suppose not,” he said, looking away. He chewed on his lip. “I didn’t think he would actually go this far,” he confessed into the silence.

For just the tiniest moment, Jared’s expression softened a little. “I’ll call the police,” he said. “You should go sit down for a moment.”

Jensen obeyed, but after Jared had made the call, his face was once again closed off and distant, and they waited for the officers to arrive in silence.

~

But it wasn’t the police that came. Or they did, but they were accompanied by a veritable army of government agents, men and women dressed in crisp black suits and dresses, and it seemed like only moments before they had taken over the store, with Jensen relegated to the empty bit of wall next to the counter, watching the proceedings with wide eyes and the swooning protea clutched to his chest, lest she get stepped on.

It wasn’t very much longer until a number of plant specialists were brought in, because apparently, Constance was quite reluctant to release Mark from her clutches. Next came a whole slew of whirring, ticking gadgets. Jensen looked around for Jared, but just as he’d spotted him hovering by the water tank, trying to coax the mockingbird out of hiding, one of the government agents stepped into his way.

He wore a sharp, dark suit, cut to accentuate his broad shoulders and clearly toned chest, paired with a severe white shirt and dark grey tie. Jensen figured him for a man who preferred low-maintenance plants - perhaps childish sedge grass, with its endless ability to entertain itself with the shadows it cast on the wall.

“Agent Morgan,” he says, holding out a large, calloused hand. The cogwheels of his watch spun wildly. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Agent,” Jensen said faintly.

Morgan’s suit had creases along the lower arms, and scuff marks across the top of his shoes, but it didn’t seem to bother him very much. It certainly didn’t make him look any less intimidating, nor did it stop him from immediately following Jensen’s line of sight to see what had caught his attention.

“Ah yes,” he said, reaching over to tug ruefully at one sleeve. “That’s quite a plant you’ve designed there,” he said lightly.

“I didn’t do it alone,” Jensen was quick to point out, but Agent Morgan shook his head.

“I know that,” he said. He gave Jensen a careful, considering look. “But it’s not the first plant you’ve designed, is it? Not by a long shot.”

He looked a whole lot less well-meaning all of a sudden, and Jensen narrowed his eyes and pressed himself a little more firmly against the wall. Morgan kept watching him, and Jensen had just about worked up the courage to tell the agent that that was really none of his business when Sheppard suddenly appeared at the man’s side.

“Hey, Jensen,” he said, with a sheepish little wave.

“He’s with you?” Jensen asked Morgan. He suspected his eyes were a little wide.

“He is,” Morgan said. “Mr. Ackles, meet Agent Sheppard.”

“Agent?” Jensen echoed.

Sheppard smiled quickly, uncomfortably, before giving Morgan’s elbow a quick squeeze. “I’ll go have a chat with the other one,” he said quietly, and Morgan nodded, eyes never leaving Jensen.

Jensen looked back for as long as he could. When he glanced away, Sheppard was watching Jared explain something earnestly.

“He’s a terrible actor,” Jensen said without thinking about it. Then he flushed. “I mean. That’s probably something you should know.”

Morgan didn’t look particularly annoyed. Instead, he looked like he was trying hard not to smile. “We do,” he said. “He’s still new. This was a test run, and I doubt we’ll be putting him undercover again.”

“Good,” Jensen murmured, for want of anything better to say. “So - does the government always come in to investigate flower shop break-ins?”

“Usually not,” Morgan admitted. “But this is a special case.”

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on Mark?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Morgan gave him a questioning look. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“But I haven’t done anything,” Jensen protested. He flushed again a moment later.

Morgan’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but Jensen had to give him credit for the fact that he didn’t reveal his amusement at Jensen’s retort in any other way. “I’m well aware of that, Mr. Ackles,” he said. “To be frank, we’re more interested in what you can do than what you sell, or who you sell it with.”

“You’re here because I design plants?” Jensen echoed. His eyes widened at Morgan’s nod. “How? No one ever comes into my shop, and if you’re after the felicitas, I designed it a decade ago.”

Morgan nodded sagely. “Actually, you have Mr. Padalecki to thank for that.” He gestured towards Jared, who now leaned slumped against the water tank, answering Sheppard’s questions. Jared startled at the mention of what was apparently his last name, and their gazes locked for a moment. Jensen looked away first.

Morgan’s eyes were sharp, watching Jensen, but he thankfully declined to comment. “I’m sure you know that Mr. Padalecki is in the engineering program at the university?” he asked. At Jensen’s nod, he continued, “His thesis advisor, Ms. Harris, is a liaison for our local bioengineering department, and when Mr. Padalecki mentioned your shop, and your creations, to her, she brought you to our attention.”

Jensen laced his fingers, bit his lip. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said quietly.

“We’d like you to work for us,” Morgan said. Into Jensen’s stunned silence, he continued, “You’re, quite frankly, one of the best plant designers I’ve encountered, and the constrictor plant in there is proof that you’re a talented engineer, as well.” He paused for a moment. “You’d be well recompensed for your efforts, of course.”

“I,” Jensen said. “Well. I don’t really know what to say. Or think, to be honest.”

“That’s fine,” Morgan said. “There’s no rush. You have plenty of time to think about it.”

“I have very strong ethics, I’ve been told,” Jensen felt obligated to point out. “I won’t ever unquestioningly follow your orders.”

“That’s good,” Morgan said without hesitation. Some of Jensen’s skepticism must have shown on his face, because the man laughed, a low, raspy sound that suited him. “I assure you, that’s a good thing.” He reached out, slowly, to squeeze Jensen’s shoulder. “We’re not the bad guys, here, Jensen. We’re not after world domination.”

Jensen looked at him intently, but Morgan didn’t even flinch. He was either the best liar Jensen had ever encountered, or he was being sincere, and Jensen could admit that the offer was more than tempting. It would certainly solve his money problems, and it wasn’t like he’d be doing work he didn’t enjoy.

“I’d have to think about it,” he said finally. “I mean, I’d need time to work in my shop, because I’m not going to work for you if that means not having my shop, and I’d need some questions answered, and I’d need to keep tabs that the government’s actually using the plants I engineer to do what it said it would.”

Morgan nodded. “Whatever you need,” he said easily. He took his hand away, and Jensen narrowed his eyes.

“I said I’d have to think about it,” he said, a sharp note creeping into his voice.

Morgan nodded again, a dignified tilt of his head. “Please do, Mr. Ackles. But if you’re at least willing to consider it, I’d like to put you into contact with Miss Harris. Mr. Padalecki’s professor,” he reminded him at Jensen’s blank look. “She’s been our liason for many years, and she might be able to put your mind at ease better than I can, given the similarities of your positions.”

“Alright.” Jensen swallowed, raised his voice a little. “Alright,” he said again. “That should be fine.”

“Excellent.” Agent Morgan smiled at him, warm and honest. “I’m glad to hear that.” He hesitated. “We’re going to have to confiscate that plant of yours,” he said.

“Please do,” he said fervently, and if Morgan was surprised at the urgency in his tone, he certainly didn’t show it. “We’ll take them out the back,” Morgan offered, and Jensen nodded gratefully.

Morgan nodded in return, and gestured to someone, and before long, he could see the agents milling around begin to retreat, to back up their equipment and their flashing cameras and head out the door.

“We’ll be in touch,” Morgan said with a significant nod, and then he, too, was gone.

Jensen took a deep breath, and then another.

It was over now. It was done.

He looked around, hoping to catch Jared’s eye, maybe share a smile, only to realize Jared wasn’t there. Jared had left, had left him, slipped away in a quiet moment because he couldn’t bear to even look at Jensen anymore, and Jensen still didn’t know why.

And he had to know why, because besides his plants, Jared was the bright spot in Jensen’s life. And Jared was cross at him, for Jensen didn’t know what, but instead of making Jensen angry, it just made him miserable. He’d gotten so used to having Jared in his shop, to turning around and seeing him there, that he scarcely knew what to do with himself now that he no longer was.

Because he didn’t know if he could do without Jared. And he certainly didn’t want to.

He threw open the door, uncaring of the creeping parvifolium, and headed for the street, the soles of his shoes slapping against the bricks.

“Jared,” he called, turning wildly. “Jared!”

But Jared wasn’t there. The street was deserted, and there wasn’t anybody but Jensen, turning on his tail and yelling like a crazy man.

~

Jensen spent the rest of the day in bed, on his side, staring at the wall. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to come into his shop after it had been raided by government agents the entire morning, and he certainly didn’t want to be in his shop, so he wasn’t. He’d tried to sleep, but he couldn’t banish the image of Mark’s defiantly burning eyes. It was worse when he closed his eyes so he kept them open, following the structure of the wallpaper with his gaze.

Outside, the sky was turning pink, which brought with it another dilemma he wasn’t quite able to forget: He still needed to cover the verbena lupos. It was a full moon tonight, and if exposed to its light, the usually docile plants would become vicious and turn on each other. He had to get up, he had to, but the edge of the bed was so very far away.

In the end, it was only his unfailing sense of responsibility that allowed Jensen to fight his way back downstairs. There were boot prints all over the tile, and leaves littered on the ground where unthinking agents had brushed too closely past his more delicate plants, and marks on the back door frame where Constance had no doubt resisted her removal.

Jensen took a deep breath. He wanted Jared, wanted him with him so badly it hurt, but there was nothing for it. The only thing he could do at this point was pick up and carry on.

He tucked the creeping parvifolium into a basket, tied the lid down firmly, and pulled the door open, allowing the cool night breeze to sweep away some of the sticky-warm air inside the greenhouse. He found the plant covers in the back room and set to work, and had just about finished the second layer of verbenas - and just in time for the moonrise, too - when there was a knock on the door.

“We’re closed, I’m afraid,” Jensen said, straightening, but froze when he saw Gabe fidgeting in the doorway.

“I was hoping you could make an exception for me,” he said. He had his hat in his hands, turning it round and round, and even though he was as impeccably, if garishly, dressed as always, Jensen had never seen him quite as - unraveled.

“Gabe,” he said, once he’d finally found his voice. “Of course. Come in.”

He bit his lip, hoping against hope that William would come breezing through the door after him, but there wasn’t anyone.

“Jensen,” Gabe said, once he was close enough. He held out a hand. “I’d like to apologize for the scene we made the other day.”

“It’s alright,” Jensen said. And then, because he was still feeling raw and couldn’t quite help himself, he asked, “I trust everything worked out?”

“It did,” Gabe said. “Or it will. I hope it will.”

“Oh,” Jensen said. He locked his fingers together, rocked on the balls of his feet. He tried a smile, but it didn’t feel right. “Anything I can do?”

“Well,” Gabe said, uncharacteristically somber. “If I wanted to, say, present an object with the help of one of your plants, what would you recommend?”

Jensen pursed his lips. Usually he probably wouldn’t even have hesitated, but the day’s - week’s, perhaps month’s - events had left him unsettled and unsure. “Well, that depends,” he said. “What kind of object are you thinking of?”

Gabe huffed a laugh, smiled a little. He cast Jensen a quick look, laughed again, and had it been anyone else, Jensen would have sworn he was blushing when he lifted his hand, held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Like this, perhaps?” he said. He dropped his gaze. “The general size and shape of a ring, really.”

“A-“ Jensen caught his own shocked tone, cleared his throat. “A ring. Yes, of course. Perhaps - perhaps an oyster fern would suit.” He made an aborted gesture further into the greenhouse. “If you’d follow me?”

He picked out a small, blue-green plant for Gabe, offering it up for inspection without any of his usual enthusiasm. “This is the one,” he said. “Stroke along the outside of the leaves, like so, and it opens to reveal a chamber just big enough to keep a coin in, or a ring.”

“That’s great, Jensen,” Gabe said, unusually quiet himself. “Wrap that up for me, would you?”

Jensen did while Gabe waited, looking around the room, his face set in somber lines. “I feel like I should ask what happened,” he said. “But I won’t.”

Jensen drew in a sharp breath. “Thank you,” he said. He held out his hand to take the bill Gabe handed him, but they both knew that wasn’t what he meant.

“You know, Jensen,” Gabe said, eyes firmly on his wallet, “a fight or two isn’t automatically the end of the world.”

“It’s not that,” Jensen said. He fell silent after that, but when Gabe raised his eyebrows, he hunched his shoulders and added, “I’m no good with anything but plants.”

Gabe tilted his head to the side, watching him, and then he smiled - not his usual big smile, but a small, soft one, one that Jensen had only ever seen him aim at William. “Maybe you don’t have to be, Jensen,” he said. “Maybe that’s enough.”

He reached out to take the plant from Jensen’s hands and lifted it into the air. He said, “Thank you, for this.”

“Good luck,” Jensen replied.

Gabe rewarded him with a warm smile. “Keep some for yourself,” he said. He reached up to gently drag his thumb across Jensen’s cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away, before showing him the specks of dirt now caught on his skin. “You look like you could need it.”

Jensen stared at the door for a long time, until long after Gabe had left, before he finally managed to force himself into action. He found his book of customer contact information and leafed through it, pausing at a set of unfamiliar numbers written in his own hand. He’d never actually called her, even though she regularly reiterated that he could, and his hands shook ever so faintly when he reached for the receiver.

The disk was slow under his fingertips, seemingly taking ages to rattle back into position so Jensen could dial the next number, but he managed them all eventually. He cradled the receiver against his ear with both hands, breathing slow and steady while it rang an agonizing four, five, six times. He’d almost convinced himself to hang up and go to bed when someone picked up with a breathless “Hello?”

“Lindsey?” Jensen asked.

“Jensen?” she returned incredulously. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing, he almost said, but that was a lie. Instead, he relayed what had happened, and he had barely closed his mouth when Lindsey said, “I’ll be right there,” and hung up on him.

Jensen occupied himself with taking down the banner above the water tanks with methodical movements, and then the one outside, leaving both in the doorway to the back room he couldn’t quite bring himself to enter. He closed the door and locked it, checking it twice, and went to sweep the aisles and wipe down the counter.

He freed the parvifolium last, scooping it up from the corner it had curled itself into and set it gently on the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Within moments, it had disappeared from view underneath one of the tables, and Jensen rubbed his face and sat down behind the counter to wait.

Lindsey arrived in a flurry of skirts, tapping her nails against the window until Jensen had fumbled the door open.

“Oh, Jensen,” she said as she swept into the shop, hair disheveled and dress slightly askew, as though she’d hastily put herself to rights before rushing out the door.

“You were with him, weren’t you?” Jensen asked. “You were with Gerard. I’m sorry.”

Lindsey shrugged. “He understands,” she said. “And now he can snoop around my house without any disruptions. I’m sure he’s thrilled.”

Jensen smiled, but even he could tell it wasn’t very convincing. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to make you leave him.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Lindsey said. “Go sit down. I’ll make us some tea.”

Jensen didn’t particularly want tea - he didn’t really want much of anything, at the moment - but it was easier to obey than it was to argue. Lindsey made quick work of it, too, returning what seemed like mere moments later with a steaming cup in each hand.

“Here you are,” she said, handing Jensen one of them. She settled down in front of the counter with the other. “Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”

There was so much Jensen could say to that, so many things, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “Jared’s upset with me, and I’m not sure why.”

“Oh,” Lindsey said quietly.

“Mark kissed me,” Jensen said, which made Lindsey’s forehead crinkle in confusion. “He kissed me, and Jared saw, and now he’s upset with me, and he has his lady friend, and how could he not know how I feel about him?”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Lindsey said, still quiet, when Jensen took a hasty sip of his tea, nearly scalding his tongue.

He set his cup down again. “He has to know.” He balled his hands into fists on the counter’s surface. “How could he not?”

Lindsey smiled sympathetically. “You’re not the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, Jensen,” she said. “Quite the opposite.”

“Not with him,” Jensen said quietly, miserably. “Not with him.”

“He’ll come around,” Lindsey said. She reached over to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “He’ll come around, or he won’t. But either way, you’re going to be okay.”

~

Only years of habit allowed Jensen to fight himself out of bed the next morning. He’d dropped off earlier than he’d thought he would, worn out by adrenaline and the day’s many revelations, but woke at his usual time feeling like he’d gotten no sleep at all. He skipped breakfast, his stomach twisting at the mere thought, and went to get the mail, leaving the unread pile lying on the counter for some other time. It could wait until Jensen was in a better mindset to deal with it all.

What Jensen really wanted to do was go back to bed, but he had a shop to tend to, so he pushed himself away from the counter and went to work. He found Agent Morgan’s ID badge on his routine inspection of the long-fingered fern and stored it in a basket behind the counter (with a bracelet, a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses, and somebody’s shoelace) to return later. He wiped down the counter and attacked the glass panes set into the door with a rag. The blandness of the tasks was comfortable, soothing enough that he found himself falling back into his usual routine: Sweep the entrance area, double-check his sheet of customer requests and this week’s order, update his stock of wrapping materials, count his available change. He unlocked the door at 8:59, flipped the sign in the window around, and retreated behind the counter.

God, how often had he sat here, with Jared or Lindsey on the other side? Lately, it seemed like no matter where he turned, people were finding each other. Gerard and Lindsey seemed more than happy together, and while they obviously had to iron out some kinks in their relationship, William and Gabe were just as clearly not intending on letting that keep them from building a future together. And Jared - Jared had Genevieve, much as it hurt Jensen’s heart to admit it. Jensen couldn’t have him like that. But maybe… maybe Jensen could still have him as a friend. He’d have Jared as a friend, and he’d have his plants, and that would be enough.

That decided, he suddenly couldn’t sit still any longer. He dialed the number of the local courier service and asked them to send someone by as quickly as possible. Then, he went to fetch his very first creation from the shelf that had housed it for over two decades.

He’d just about managed to wrap it up when the courier knocked on a window, shuffling through the door when Jensen beckoned him in.

“Be careful with it,” Jensen cautioned him, twisting the package in his hands.

“Yes, sir,” the courier said with a quick, easy grin. He tipped back his cap. “Is this it?”

“One minute,” Jensen said.

He took one of his business cards from the stack behind the counter and, on the back, wrote, I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. He looked down at the words while the ink dried, every moment a temptation to crumple up the card and send the courier away, but then he thought of Jared’s smile and Jared’s laugh and Jared’s dead, dead eyes when he’d walked away, and he tucked the card underneath the wrapping paper and presented both to the courier with a pounding heart.

~

Jared didn’t come by until the afternoon. Jensen spent the morning jittery and uncertain, see-sawing between thinking he’d made the right decision and thinking he’d made a terrible mistake. He puttered around for most of the day, unable to get rid of the tension even when he fielded questions about his newest creation that was supposedly coming soon, but when he finally looked up at the jingle of the bell to see Jared there, it was as if he’d suddenly grown roots.

Jared came inside slowly, shoulders hunched and head bowed. He kept his eyes hidden underneath the brim of his cap. “Hello, Jensen,” he said.

“Jared,” Jensen said, ignoring the painful jolt his stomach gave at the word. “Did you -?” He swallowed, throat dry, though it didn’t help much. “Did you receive the plant?”

“I did.” Jared smiled, but Jensen’s gaze was fixed on the way Jared’s fingers were twisted in the hem of his sweater vest. “That’s why I came by.”

Jensen nodded quickly. “Do you not want it?” he asked.

Jared hesitated in whatever he had been about to say, eyes growing wide. “Do I - Jensen!”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, looking down.

Jared was silent for a moment. “No, Jensen,” he said. “I want it very much.”

“That’s.” Jensen cleared his throat. “That’s good.” He bit his lip, hating how small he sounded when he asked, “Did you - did you need something?”

Jared started, and then took a closer look at him. Jensen wasn’t sure what it was he read in Jensen’s face, but his expression softened. “Maybe there’s something you could help me with,” he said.

“Anything,” Jensen promised quietly.

Jared reached up to tug on his cap before he smiled a little at the ground beneath his feet. There was yellowish, sticky sap spread over a couple of the tiles. Jensen had been meaning to clean it up.

“Let’s say there was a person in my life, a person that I loved very, very much but who didn’t know it - would you have a plant of some kind that could help me make that person understand?”

“Oh,” Jensen said, like that could somehow alleviate the hot despair spreading through his veins. “Come-” He cleared his throat. “Come with me, please.”

He lead them down a random aisle, trying to remember if he had any violet confessions on hand, and then he imagined giving them to Jared and Jared going on his knees before his girl, face turned upwards, smiling hopefully, and stopped in his tracks.

“Jared, I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face him. “I’m sorry, I can’t sell you a plant like that.”

“Why not?” Jared asked quietly, and he wasn’t looking at Jensen, not really, but he sounded vaguely… hopeful.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair. “Call it a conflict of interest,” he said. His voice shook, but only a little.

Jared sucked in a breath. “Why, Jensen?” he asked quietly. “I know you have someone.” He looked down, flexed his fingers. “I was here, remember?”

“Jared, that was - he was - no.” Jensen bowed his head. “I would never.”

Jared didn’t reply.

When the silence grew too thick, too heavy, Jensen glanced up again, further words of explanation dying on his tongue when he saw Jared fighting a smile.

“That’s - okay,” Jared said. He blew out a breath. “Okay. That’s great, actually. That makes this a whole lot easier.”

“Makes what easier?” Jensen asked.

Jared smiled at him, but he was nervous, too, Jensen could tell. He bit his lip and took a deep breath, and then he smiled again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Mr. Ackles,” he said, “of Mr. Ackles’ Flower Shop for Unusual, Extraordinary, and Peculiar Plants, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”

Jensen shut his eyes very firmly for a moment. When he opened them again, Jared was still there, smiling bemusedly and perhaps a little uncertainly at him.

"Are- are you sure?" Jensen stammered out, and that wasn't what he'd meant to ask at all, Good Lord. There was no reason at all for him to remind Jared that taking Jensen out for a night was possibly a bad idea. No reason at all.

Thankfully, there was a small smile blooming across Jared's face. "I'm sure, Jensen," he said. "I've been sure for a while."

"That's - good," Jensen said slowly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Does that mean you're taking me up on my offer?" Jared pressed, after a moment, ducking his head to meet Jensen's eyes.

Jensen bit his lip. “But what about your lady friend?”

Jared smiled sheepishly. “Well,” he murmured. “We actually only went on the one date. I just needed an excuse to come see you.”

Jensen wanted to belabor the point, to ask, Why didn’t you say something?, but it wasn’t like he’d given him much of a chance to, was it? He took a moment to marvel at the look on Jared’s face, so hopeful, so determined, and he found himself answering without even thinking about it.

“I - yes.”

“Yes?”

“I’d love to,” Jensen said. And if he’d had any doubts about his decision, Jared’s smile would have blown them all away.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Jared said. He curled his hands around Jensen’s, hanging loose at his sides. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

“Jared…” Jensen looked up just in time to see Jared’s lips twitch, an aborted smile. “What?”

“No, just-“ Jared shrugged one shoulder. He released one of Jensen’s hands to gesture at Jensen’s glasses. “You’ve got some dirt, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Cheeks warming, Jensen pulled out of Jared’s grasp entirely to take off his glasses and polish them on the corner of his dress shirt that had come untucked. Why did he have to choose today, of all days, to look like such a mess?

“Jensen,” Jared said, amused and fond, and when Jensen shot him a flustered look, Jared leaned in and kissed him.

“I’ll go to dinner with you,” Jensen said, drawing back. “On one condition.”

“Oh?” Jared no doubt tried hard to look considering, but he was grinning too hard for it to be particularly effective. “What’s that?”

“Be my date to my cousin’s wedding?”

“Only if you promise not to provide any bouquets.”

“Deal,” Jensen said easily, and Jared ducked in to kiss him again. This time, however, he was the one to break away.

“Hey now,” he said. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Jensen followed his gaze down to the floor, where the creeping parvifolium had taken up post right inside the threshold. He laughed, squeezed Jared’s arm. “Nah, that’s alright,” he said and reached over to pull the door open.

“Stay safe, sweetheart,” he said, and turned back to Jared with a smile on his face.

~The End~

Masterpost