J2 fic: Edit
RPS, Jared/Jensen | R
Word count: ~1800
Summary: And each time, with each touch that means more than it did before- before this, Jensen thinks, now there is this to lose.
Edit
The movie is ending in time with their Cheetos. Jared’s lips are tinged orange, and when he turns to Jensen and grins, Jensen sees that his teeth are a little orange now, too.
“Brush your teeth,” Jensen says absently. Like Jared would forget something like that.
“Hm, o-kay,” Jared says anyway, leaving his mouth open around the kay. He lifts the Cheetos bag and tips it downward so the crumbs fell right into his mouth.
Jensen goes back to watching the DVD while Jared licks the orange powder off his fingers, one at a time. “Best paaaart,” Jared mumbles around his thumb.
It’s a couple of minutes later when he asks Jensen, “You gonna finish that?” and Jensen turns to him. He’s looking at Jensen’s hands on his lap, lying supine and open, like asking for grace.
“Uh, no,” Jensen says. He’d been meaning to wipe it off later.
And Jared doesn’t say May I? or Is it okay if-. He just shrugs and takes Jensen’s hand and sucks the orange powder off Jensen’s fingers. Jared’s eyes go back to the screen.
Jensen thinks about protesting, something like, Man, quit being so strange, or That’s disgusting, because it really kind of is, but Jensen figures they’re past that now. It feels like something that doesn’t need any explanation between them, not after all these years, not at 2:30 in the morning, not with Jared.
“Nothing to waste, man,” Jared says as he throws Jensen’s left hand back at him.
“I took a piss a while ago and forgot to wash my hands,” Jensen lies.
Jared groans and kicks at him with his bare feet and Jensen can’t stop laughing.
+
And it’s strange how nothing ever feels wrong between them. It’s fucking weird, is what it is, and Jensen wonders if he should maybe worry that he and Jared could be superglued at the hip and he doesn’t think he would mind at all.
+
Jared finishes the joke, (“If I fall down instead of the gorilla, shoot the dog.”) and it’s not even that funny but Jensen laughs, so suddenly that the pizza still in his mouth sort of shoots out and lands on Jared’s arm, and it’s fucking gross, and Jensen laughs even more.
“Dude,” Jared is wheezing, and tries to wipe the thing on Jensen, grabbing at him with his free hand, but Jensen moves away and out of his reach and says, out of breath, “Suck it up, bitch.”
+
This is when it changes:
“Jensen, Jensen,” Jared says.
“Fuck off,” Jensen replies, trying to fuse himself together with the couch cushions. It still smells different here, a little funky. Stupid trailers.
“No,” Jared says.
Jensen lies there for a while, eyes shut, like if he ignored Jared he would actually let him sleep. Jared nudges his thigh after a few seconds.
“What do you want? Go make a television show,” Jensen says irritably, but he’s already sitting up.
Jared’s just sitting there, at the foot of the couch in Sam’s clothes, grinning like Sam wouldn’t.
Jensen frowns.
“So I was thinking,” Jared starts, and huffs out a short laugh. Then he shakes his head, as if making a decision, and leans forward and kisses Jensen. And it’s nothing special, just a press of lips, but Jensen’s heart kind of beats right out of its cage. Or it feels that way, anyway. He gasps and Jared smiles and puckers his mouth at Jensen’s lower lip before pulling away.
Then he stands and says, “Gotta go make a TV show, later,” and heads out, leaving Jensen breathing shallowly.
+
Later on, Jensen tries not to think too much about it, tries to put it in that box where he puts Jared using his toothbrush sometimes and eating his leftovers and licking Cheetos powder off his fingers. Things he would label Stuff We Do because that’s what they are: things they do because they’re just really, really fucking awesome friends.
Fucking, heh, Jensen thinks, only it’s not so funny when Jared is pushing inside of him, asking for the first time in a long time, ‘Is this okay? Is this-Jen, is this okay?’
And Jensen’s answer has always been yes, even if the question was never asked.
+
A week into this new thing that Jared started, and Jensen can’t help it.
“Let’s go out,” he says, and fucking blushes.
“Who’s throwing the party?” Jared yawns around his pancakes. Figures that Jensen would ask this at 4:30 in the morning.
“No, like,” Jensen frowns at his coffee, “Go out. With. Me.”
When he looks up, Jared is staring at him with his eyebrows raised. Then his face splits into a wide, wide grin, and Jensen has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning back just as broadly. He doesn’t think it would look too good.
“Well, look at you, all gentleman and things,” Jared teases and stands up, rounding the table and pressing Jensen against the counter. “Knock on my door at 7?”
Jensen rolls his eyes, and closes them when Jared’s lips find his neck.
+
Jensen takes forty-five minutes to pick a shirt. In the end he goes for casual, and thanks God that he picked jeans and a simple button-down, because when he gets down to the kitchen Jared is wearing his fucking Spongebob shirt.
Jensen still feels a little overdressed, but when Jared touches his hip and says, “Fucking gorgeous, you know that?” Jensen thinks he can probably deal.
+
Jared touches him more often, small, almost unnoticeable points of contact: a hand on the small of his back, Jared’s nose against his cheek when he whispers something inane. Jensen is aware of them all, anyway, like tiny pinpricks that leave him feeling like he’s been touched all over.
And sometimes the touches aren’t so little: sometimes Jensen would be washing the dishes and Jared would wrap himself around him so completely that Jensen has to just stop and give in. Tilt his face up and let Jared take his mouth.
And each time, with each touch that means more than it did before- before this, Jensen thinks, now there is this to lose.
+
Jensen starts a habit: he wakes up before Jared, silently extricates himself limb by limb, and makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Then he goes back to bed, places Jared’s arms and legs where they were before, and goes back to sleep.
+
Jensen opens his trailer door and finds Jared sprawled on his couch.
“Took you so long?” Jared’s voice is rough. It probably has something to do with the hard-on he’s got there. “C’mere.”
And Jensen would, except after three hours of running and getting thrown around set, he feels kind of toxic. He reeks. Jared probably wouldn’t like that.
“Five minutes,” he says, heading towards the shower.
“What?” Jared says incredulously. “Jensen.”
“Three,” Jensen bargains, “Three minutes.” And shuts the door as Jared groans.
Four minutes later Jensen is getting Jared off, smelling fresh and citrusy.
+
There are times when Jared watches him, not with the kind of heated look he’d sometimes expect, more of just-taking him in.
Sometimes Jensen feels it at the back of his neck, and suddenly it's like his skin is too tight, like if he moves this way or that, Jared will see something he doesn’t want. He tries not to fidget.
+
Jared finishes the joke, ("Ma'am, before you do that again, you need to move your cat.") and Jensen laughs. He ducks his head, keeps the pizza inside his mouth, and laughs.
+
So Jensen sleeps with Jared and wakes with Jared and spends the rest of the time in between with Jared. And Jensen likes it, the constancy, doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it, but Jared- he doesn’t really know. Better safe, he figures.
“Maybe I should,” Jensen pauses, wipes his mouth with a table napkin. He bought a pack last week and set it on the dinner table. “Maybe I should start looking for my own place.”
“What?” Jared says from where he’s washing the dishes.
“It’s nothing to do with us, I still, you know, I don’t-” Jensen breathes out, leans back against the kitchen counter, and looks at Jared. “All this time we spend together,” Jensen starts again. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“It’s really not,” Jared answers, closing the faucet and dropping the sponge.
“It would be healthy,” Jensen says reasonably. And it is reasonable.
Jared laughs, then gapes at Jensen like he’s joking. “Seriously?”
Jensen frowns at the wooden table, "Yeah."
Jared opens his mouth, then closes it. "Fine," he says, turning his back to Jensen and opening the faucet, shoulders stiff.
Jensen feels like an asshole and he doesn't know why. There is a whole minute of silence that he has no idea how to fill.
Jared does it for him. “I’ve spent more time with you than anybody else in God knows how long,” Jared says, back still turned, water still running. “And I’m still not sick of you.”
But what if.
Jensen bites his lip. “It’s only a matter of time,” he says.
Jared stops what he's doing again and turns to face him, eyebrows knitted. "You really think-" he starts, then rubs a hand down his face, exasperated. “Dude, I’m not looking for reasons to love you any less than I already do,” he says. “Which is a fucking ridiculous amount,” Jared nearly yells in addition.
"What?" Jensen says faintly.
Jared shakes his head. "Nothing had to change, Jensen," he says. "Not you, you're--" Jared shakes his head, "You're kind of stupidly perfect. Emphasis on the stupid," he adds.
And Jensen’s eyes are stupidly wide as he takes in Jared’s words.
"And you know," Jared continues as he moves in closer, "I fart toxic bombs, but I kind of trusted that you’d still like me.”
“I do,” Jensen says, smile growing uncontrollably, because right now his heart is kind of swelling. Jared really, really likes him. Jared, actually, loves him. It’s all kinds of awesome.
“Great,” Jared says. “So stop fixing yourself up for me, you idiot. It’s about time you trusted me back.”
And it’s not going to be that easy, Jensen thinks, but he can start trying. All he has to do is what he’s been doing for the last four years.
Jensen nods. “I’m going to breathe in your face first thing in the morning,” he says fondly.
+
Jensen finally manages to burp the whole alphabet. Jared starts a standing ovation in their living room, then pulls Jensen in for a taco-flavored kiss.
END