You Can't Always Get What You Want - Part 6 (continued)
Jensen drifts around his suite. He’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least trying to since sleep has been avoiding him in very much the same way Jared has been.
He avoids the bedroom…that’s where Jared gave himself to Jensen and it was the most beautiful gift Jensen had ever received.
The couch in the lounge where he has a pillow and blanket waiting for him isn’t much better because the two of them had canoodled and made out there, unable to keep their hands off one another. But Jensen had laid more than just his hands on Jared in the bedroom and he just couldn’t make himself go in there right now.
Leaning his head against a pane of glass, Jensen watches the rain pour down from the heavens. He watches as people scurry on the sidewalk below, trying to get out of the weather. Being on the 14th floor gives him an interesting perspective and usually Jensen revels in it but today he can only dwell on Jared and how he’s blown things.
The sidewalk is completely empty now, the rain coming down in sheets having persuaded the hardiest individuals to take cover. Jensen pushes back from the window and is about to move away when he sees one lone straggler battling the elements.
Whoever it is, they’re weaving as if drunk and Jensen shakes his head. He hopes the poor fool doesn’t catch a cold or pneumonia or something.
Lightning crashes across the sky, illuminating everything below in an eerie blueish tinge. Jensen gasps. It’s probably just that everything and everyone reminds him of his lover but for a moment he has an impression that the person on the sidewalk is tall, dark and handsome. Jared.
It’s just a trick of his mind. He can’t identify people from 14 floors up and anyway Jared is at home, safe and sound, not out wondering the sidewalks getting drenched.
Jensen shuffles back to his couch, turning the lamp off as he moves by. It’s after ten and he should be asleep but closing his eyes on the couch is the only rest he sees in the near future.
The storm is putting on an impressive show outside. A different noise clashes with the thunder and rain pelting against the windows but when it sounds again, Jensen realizes it’s the doorman’s buzzer.
He’s not expecting anyone but maybe it’ll be Tom and he can pound his frustrations out on the perpetual smirk the other man sports. He activates the buzzer, “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to bother you sir but there’s someone down here insisting he speak to you. He’s dripping on my carpet.”
He hears the long suffering note in Wallace, the night doorman’s voice, and imagines he’s crinkling his nose up, like Jared does. Someone is dripping on my carpet.
For a moment he thinks Wallace is going to say the man downstairs is named Jared but the silence stretches out. Jensen depresses the talk button. “If his name is Jared, please send him up.”
Wallace doesn’t say anything in reply and even though Jensen really didn’t think Jared was here, he realizes his hopes have been dashed again.
He’s avoided alcohol like the plague since it had pretty much brought about his ruin - if hadn’t been drinking at Jim’s retirement party he never would have said yes to Tom’s stupid bet - but right now he needs something to settle his nerves. He goes to the beautiful cherry wood bar and pours himself a scotch on the rocks.
Knock, knock.
Jensen drops the $300 bottle of Glenlivet 25 year-old single malt and barely blinks at the loss as he bolts for the door.
Whipping it open he finds a bedraggled Jared swaying on his feet. He wants to pepper him with questions - what he’s doing there, if he’s forgiven Jensen, why he’s wet - but his first order of business is getting Jared dry. He’s recovering from a nasty gun-shot wound and doesn’t need to add a respiratory infection to the mix.
Grabbing Jared’s massive paw in his hand, Jensen tugs him inside. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable and then we can talk.”
He kicks the door closed and guides the weak and trembling man toward his bathroom. Jared stands there passively, his face screened from Jensen’s view by sodden strands of dark hair. Silky dark hair that Jensen wants to touch. First things first - he needs to get Jared dry.
Jensen tugs up on the hem of the San Antonio Spurs sweatshirt Jared is wearing and Jared dutifully raises his arms and then bends at the waist as Jensen peels it off. Next comes the white t-shirt and it’s not any drier than the sweatshirt had been and Jensen makes short work of tugging it off, too.
He gasps at the red puckered scar on Jared’s chest. It doesn’t look infected but its ridges and valleys are impressive and it has to be sore. Jared took a bullet for him.
His shaking fingers reach out and gently touch the edge of the scar. Jared captures his hand softly and guides it right over his heart, pressing it lightly.
Skin to skin.
Jensen’s eyes seek out Jared’s but they’re hidden in the waving, wet mass of hair. His other hand reaches up and brushes the soft strands to the side. There, he can see large blue-green eyes staring back at him. Full of hope.
Jensen crushes Jared to him closely. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Jared allows himself to be pulled against Jensen’s warmth but he hasn’t said a word and Jensen is beginning to think he’s misunderstood. Maybe Jared isn’t there to forgive him. Maybe Jared wants to punch his lights out.
Heavy weight staggers into Jensen, nearly knocking him off his feet. His legs brace themselves to absorb the suddenly lax man in his arms. “Jared, talk to me, what’s wrong?”
He’s not even sure Jared is conscious at this point but if he can just hear Jared speak, he knows everything will be okay.
“I’m so tired. Can I sleep here with you?”
Jensen’s heart melts and joins the puddle of growing water at Jared’s feet.
It isn’t easy stripping more than six feet of wet weight but finally Jensen has his love swathed in his white bathrobe. Tucking a towel under his arm he tugs and pushes until he has Jared sitting on the edge of his bed.
The towel is put to good use, drying Jared’s hair. It’s so soft and springy and Jensen just wants to sink his hands into it but he makes himself rub the towel through the hair instead, blotting off the excess liquid.
Jared still isn’t talking and it’s worrisome but he’s here now and Jensen has no intentions of letting him go.
Pulling back the heavy comforter, Jensen manhandles Jared until he’s stretched out against the pillows, careful not to tug on the scar that’s so red against Jared’s pale skin. Once he has Jared comfortable, Jensen sheds his sweats until he’s left standing in his plaid boxers. Climbing on to the bed, he slides behind Jared and gathers him up in his arms.
Jared’s chest is moving in and out in a steady rhythm and his eyes are closed, face lax. Jensen is pretty sure he’s just sleeping but he’s going to stick close in case Jared needs something.
The soft inhalation-exhalation soothes Jensen’s weary soul and soon he’s sliding into sleep, reveling in the muscled body nestled in his arms.
~0~
Part Seven