FIC: Learning To Breathe
Title: Learning To Breathe
Pairings: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, minor Jared/Sandy and Jensen/Misha
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: ~5,200 words
Disclaimer: Lies, damn lies. (In other words, I own nothing - this is entirely fictitious and sprung from my imagination with no basis in reality. Jensen and Jared own themselves.)
Summary: This is a story about two friends who hurt each other, lose each other and find each other - and maybe fall in love on the way. Oh, and Jensen's an asshole. But he already knows that.
Notes: This is unbeta'd because I fail at life and don't have a beta (yet, though I am looking for one), but I have checked over it multiple times and I'm fairly certain I've caught most errors. Then again, this was mostly written between the hours of 1am and 4am, so I don't know what stupid mistakes my brain might have missed. I also apologise in advance if there are any glaring errors to do with Britishisms where there should be Americanisms.
***
They've always had this routine, the two of them. Every morning, as they wait for the school bus, Jared will bounce about, happily chatting about anything and everything to a half-asleep Jensen who will simply clutch his coffee in its travel mug and nod at the appropriate times. The other kids at the bus stop will give them a wide berth - not because they're not liked, because they are, but because they too know and acknowledge this years' old tradition that the two of them have - and Jared and Jensen will be just that. Jared and Jensen.
The bus will pull up - almost always five minutes late; one of the few regular aspects about it other than the dried chewing gum on the back of the seats - and Jared will drag a gradually awakening Jensen onto the bus where they'll make their way to the back (a.k.a. Jared flailing around being the giant sasquatch that he is and everybody else getting out the way in fear of getting squished). Chad and Mike will high-five Jared, Tom and Jensen both giving each other nods that say "yeah, we're in the same boat here, buddy" over the rims of their coffees, and the school day will start.
Only when Jared broke his leg in three places jumping from a tree into a hammock on a dare from Chad did the routine break, and even then it was only for a week whilst Jared got lifts into school. Jensen had been greeted with uncomfortable silence when he arrived at the bus stop each morning, the other kids not quite sure how to react to this new turn of events. The next Monday, however, there Jared was waiting beneath the lamp-post when Jensen trudged up the street - a bright smile on his face and red ribbons tied around the tops of his crutches, courtesy of Mike.
And everything was back to normal again.
So when Jared starts catching rides with Sandy from down the street, Jensen feels that he has reason to be pissed. When Jared strides down the hall and bumps shoulders with Jensen before opening his locker and pulling out books, just a cheery smile by way of greeting rather than the flood of chatter Jensen is used to, Jensen allows himself to glare back and slam his locker maybe a little harder than he would do in any other situation.
He definitely doesn't allow himself to feel guilty at the hurt, kicked-puppy look on Jared's face, either. Nope, not at all. Jared's a dick, and Jensen's not about to forgive him for it any time soon, even though he knows exactly why Jared's acting the way he is.
He knows why Jared's been catching lifts with Sandy and her brother; he knows why Jared tried out for the basketball team, and it's sure as hell not because Jared has suddenly discovered an overwhelming love of the game.
It's because Jared's discovered girls. One girl in particular, too: Sandy McCoy.
Now Jensen's not the jealous type - he's cool with Jared wanting a girlfriend - but he's fairly certain there's some sort of unwritten rule saying that you don't ditch your best friend just because a pretty girl smiles at you and offers you a lift to school. He certainly wouldn't do so to Jared, and it's long been an agreement that's he's the asshole, not Jared. Jared's the one who bounces through life like everything's some sort of party, with sparkly balloons and glitter and shit, stuffing his face full of candy and then talking the ear off anybody that approaches him. His Jared doesn't spend hours fussing about whether he should ask her out or if she would laugh in his face, doesn't stare at her in math class when he knows Jensen relies on him to take good enough notes for the two of them so Jensen can doze at the back of the room. His Jared wouldn't blow off his suggestion to hang out after school that evening with the response "Can't, man - Sandy and I are headin' out to the movies. Some other time, yeah?"
Jensen's not the only one confused by it, either. During lunchbreak, when he's attempting to peel an apple with a spoon at his and Jared's usual table - only this time by himself, because Jared's laughing over at the basketball team's table, Sandy on his lap and happy grin wide on his face - Chad drops into the seat across from him and fixes him with a serious look.
Well, as serious a look as Chad can do. Which isn't all that serious, really.
Jensen rolls his eyes and puts down the spoon with a clunk. "What?"
Chad ignores his pissy tone and jerks a thumb over at where Jared is now playing with the ends of Sandy's hair, laughing at a joke some prick has said. "What's your boy doin' over there, dude?"
"He's not 'my boy'," Jensen bitches back automatically. "And what the hell d'you mean by that?"
Chad gives him a semi-sympathetic look. "You're sitting over here by yourself, Jenny-boy."
Flipping him off on principle at the nickname, Jensen shrugs. "So?"
"You haven't sat by yourself since second grade and Jared was ill with chicken-pox."
Jensen shrugs again. "I don't see what your point is." He does, though. He just doesn't need Chad Michael Murray of all people to tell him that he sucks. He already knows that; he just doesn't want to admit that he misses Jared like a physical ache in his chest because he really doesn't need to be any more loser-ish than he already is.
"You're peeling an apple with a spoon, man," Chad says, reaching across and snagging the mutilated fruit, ducking Jensen's annoyed swat. "If that doesn't scream 'loser', then I don't know what does."
"I love you too, bitch."
"Fuck off," Chad says easily. "Wanna come sit with us?"
Jensen considers it for a moment. His options aren't all that broad, when it comes down to it: he can either decline and hide in the library until the bell rings, or take the opportunity to insult Chad some more and call Mike a crazy fucker whilst Tom gets eye-strain from all his eye-rolling.
He goes to sit with them. He's always liked calling Mike names, anyway.
***
He's sort of surprised when Jared shows up round his house Saturday morning, chirpy as ever and holding his tennis racket and plastic bag of balls He probably shouldn't be; after all, Jared still showed up even when his leg was in plaster. He'd thrown balls for Jensen to hit, and, when they'd lost all the balls and Jensen couldn't be arsed to go find them, they flopped on the grass and graffitied Jared's cast.
Jensen still remembers how the cool plaster felt beneath his fingertips as he twisted at an awkward angle to reach Jared's knee, and the way the Sharpie stained his fingertips black with ink. He remembers how all of it paled in comparison to Jared's smile when he read Jensen's wonky "J+J 4EVA". He'd laughed and called Jensen a chick, and Jensen'd called him a dork and they'd headed inside to play PSP until their fingers were about ready to drop off and Jared's mom had called round to pick Jared up to save him the several block walk back home.
Jensen sort of stares at him in confusion when Jared waves the racket at him, dimpling happily at him. Jensen doesn't know anybody else who smiles nearly as much as Jared does, or so widely. Jared's smiles light up the entire room and makes Jensen's heart flutter in his chest.
Flicking floppy chestnut hair out of his eyes, Jared says, "Read to go?" He sounds slightly breathless, as if he ran to get here on time. Or maybe he just ran for the sheer hell of it. Jensen never does know with Jared.
He waves a hand awkwardly and steps back to let him in. "Just gimme a sec - gotta get my stuff," he says and takes the stairs two at a time, suddenly feeling guilty that he ever even thought that Jared would cancel on him. Jared's still his best friend, despite all the stuff at school. Nothing can change that. Nothing.
He quickly changes into shorts and a thin t-shirt, grabbing his racket and wriggling his feet into his shoes because he can't be bothered to undo the laces so he can put them on properly.
Half-falling down the stairs, he grins at Jared who's leaning against the kitchen top, picking through the fruit bowl. He feels lighter, like the sun's unexpectedly come out of hiding and made his day just that bit better. "Jay, stop stealin' our oranges. We've got a match to play."
Jared flips him off and straightens up his tall frame, hazel eyes amused. "Ready to have me kick your ass?"
He says the same thing every Saturday. It feels good to laugh in response and say, "You wish, Padalecki. You wish," and Jensen doesn't know why he's been pissed all week.
Jared slings an arm around Jensen's shoulders as they walk down to the courts that Jensen's mom runs. He smells warm and like Jared, all soap and cinnamon and sunlight. "So, Jen, what've you been up to recently?" he says, pulling Jensen close against his side. Jensen's body flushes hot in response. "Chad said that you've been hanging out with them a lot."
And just like that, Jensen's good mood dissipates. Jared shouldn't need to ask him what he's been up to; Jared should have been there, doing it with him. And how the hell has Jared found time to talk to Chad when he's barely even acknowledged Jensen's existence all freakin' week?
Jensen pulls away, decidedly not looking at Jared's face as he says, "Nothing much. Reading, mostly."
Jared doesn't seem to notice Jensen's change of mood - another thing that hammers home for Jensen how wrong things are between the two of them right now - and just laughs. "Dude, how have you not read the entire library already? I swear, Mrs Browning knows you by name."
"Sure she does," Jensen says with an uncomfortable shrug, "she knows everyone."
"Yeah, but she talks to you like she does Misha," Jared says, like it's some sort of bad thing. His arm's a heavy weight around Jensen's shoulders, pinning him down.
Jensen frowns. "Misha's cool."
Jared snorts at that, and Jensen feels unease curl low in his stomach. Jared doesn't scoff at things like that. He doesn't put people down like that. Jared's one of the most laid-back guys Jensen knows, ready to be friends with anyone no matter what other people think of them.
Jensen's mom smiles at them as they pass through the office to the back courts. "Hi, boys," she says, fingers never stopping their tapping at the computer keys. "Court three's unlocked, if you want to use it."
"Thanks, Momma Ackles," Jared says before Jensen can even open his mouth, steering Jensen out through the back door and across the grassy picnic lawn to court three.
The gate creaks closed behind them - Jensen needs to remind his mom that the oiling needs to be done again - and Jared drops the plastic bag to the ground, picking out a tennis ball and bouncing it experimentally a couple of times. He looks up at Jensen with a teasing grin, slanted eyes happy beneath that stupid floppy fringe of his. "Show me what you got, then, tiger."
Jensen doesn't think he's ever played so hard in his life, leaping and laughing and putting everything he has into it. When they finally collapse onto the floor, breathless, flushed and laughing, Jensen dares to hope that his Jared is back, and when he rolls over he'll see his best friend flashing that dimpled grin at him and they'll be able to go back to normal and forget about this past week.
He's hyper-aware of every place Jared's pressed against him, his entire side tingling and burning pleasantly when Jared shifts slightly. He's not entirely sure what the emotions tangling in his chest are, so he ignores them and turns his head to ask Jared whether he's up for another round.
Before he can even open his mouth, Jared slaps a hand across his face and swears. "Crap. I promised Sandy I'd be back for lunch so we can go shopping together."
Jensen snaps his mouth shut and sits up, brushing dirt off his clothes. "Yeah."
Jared gets to his feet, his clothes rumpled and dirty, his shirt riding up to show a stretch of tanned stomach. He looks beautiful, and Jensen has to swallow the words that beg Jared to stay.
He knows what one of the emotions is, now.
Loneliness.
***
Three weeks later, Jensen can't really say he's surprised when he finds himself making out with Misha Collins against the Modern History shelves of the school library.
He is surprised, however, by the fact that Shelley Waterman sees them and instantly tells the entire school. He didn't think that any of that lot ever went anywhere near the library, too scared they'd catch geek.
He's somewhat relieved to discover that she'd got lost on her way to the toilets. His world hasn't been turned upside down after all; the bimbos are still bimbos and aren't suddenly on some sort of reading kick.
It doesn't make anything better when he walks down the corridor the next morning to find his locker spray painted with the word FAG scrawled across it in a spiky, aggressive font. Even when Misha brushes his fingertips against the back of his hand in the lunch queue, his blue eyes gentle, the sick feeling doesn't pass. It only gets worse when Jared walks past, Sandy tucked against him - in Jensen's spot - and doesn't even throw him a passing glance.
He doesn't know how things got this bad.
***
That night, he wakes up to his phone vibrating on his bedside table. He blearily slaps out a hand and squints to read the tiny writing against the bright backlighting.
y didnt u tell me? it reads.
Jensen switches his phone off and rolls over, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing desperately that sleep will claim him once more.
He's still awake when daylight creeps across the velvet sky and smothers the last star in a blanket of cool blue ozone.
***
Jared's waiting for him outside his Spanish class when the end of the next school day comes around. His face is pinched tight and his mouth almost pouting, his arms crossed over his chest.
He grabs Jensen by the arm and pretty much marches him past all the staring, past all the snide remarks, and out of the school gates ahead of the flood of students, not letting up on the furious pace until they reach the park around the corner. Jared pushes him down beneath a gnarled oak and fixes him with an angry expression.
Jensen wasn't sure what to expect, but he certainly wasn't expecting this.
"So," Jared says, dropping his rucksack on the ground by his feet. He's still standing, towering above Jensen. Jensen has never felt quite so small. He swallows, his mouth dry and his throat closing up and choking any words that might try to escape from him.
"So," Jared says again, his tone quieter this time, more intimate. "You haven't answered any of my texts."
"Phone died," Jensen says, the lie slipping out easy despite the way it tastes wrong on his tongue, over-sweet and cloying. "'n I lost my charger."
He doesn't look up to see Jared's expression. He doesn't want to see the disappointment in Jared's eyes, even though Jared should be the one who can't look him in the eyes, not the other way around.
Jared lets out a sigh that sounds like a deflation, and sits, carefully, on the dry ground next to Jensen. Jensen wants to scream at the measured way he folds his legs underneath him and fucking settles. His Jared doesn't settle - he sprawls, loose-limbed and over-eager, clumsy like a colt still learning how to control its limbs.
Everything's wrong about this Jared. Jensen still burns at his every touch, though.
"Jensen, look, I..." Jared bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Jensen blinks and looks up at him to check he's heard right. This is yet another thing he wasn't expecting, and he feels off-balance and wrong-footed, like the ground beneath him is made of paper and he'll fall through if he shifts even an inch in the wrong direction.
Jared isn't looking at him. He's wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest in a mirror image of how Jensen's sitting. His thumb's rubbing at a rough hole in the knee of his left leg, and Jensen realises with a jolt that he doesn't know how that hole got there. He wasn't there; he doesn't know the story behind it.
He wonders if Sandy knows, if she was there.
"I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me. And I'm sorry that you didn't feel like you could tell me. I mean, I tell you everything - I guess I just thought it was a two-way street, y'know?" Jared says, the words starting to tumble together like they used to, when he just couldn't wait for the words to finally get out so he could get on with whatever it was he wanted to do. Only this time the words are falling out like he can't stop them, like he needs to get them out because they hurt and he doesn't know how to handle it.
Jensen stays silent. He doesn't know how to handle it, either.
Jared flicks a glance across at him. "You can say something, y'know," he says, a wry quirk to his lips that Jensen doesn't think he's ever seen so sad before.
There's a fallen leaf not far from Jensen's foot. He pokes at it and it crumbles into nothing, just a fine skeleton of dried-out veins and dust. "I don't know that there's anything to say, Jared."
Jared bows his head and tries to smile. Jensen can see how hard he's trying to smile, trying to keep it together. He's never felt the need to keep it together in front of Jensen before. Jensen was the one person he didn't keep it together in front of.
"I've been a jerk and I know it," Jared says, then. "I just...got distracted, I guess. Didn't see how wrong everything was until it was too late and Mike was helping you scrub your locker clean with paper towels and soap from the toilets." He lets out a harsh bark that sounds forced and unhappy, and Jensen thinks he should be hurting because Jared's so hurt. Feeling something more than this, at any rate.
He needs to get out of here.
"Right," he says vaguely, getting up and slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. "Cool. I just...I said I'd meet Misha at his place. We're doing a marathon of the Lord of the Rings trilogy tonight and I'm gonna be late if I don't hurry."
Jared looks up at him, clearly stunned and hurt. "You're just leaving?"
Jensen's probably an asshole for doing this, but hadn't they already established that years ago? He shrugs. "Yeah."
Jared frowns, as if he knows something's wrong with that but he just doesn't know how to say it. "I...I was hoping we could hang out."
"Got plans. Sorry."
Jared chews on his lips, thinking. "Tomorrow, then?"
Jensen shrugs. "Dunno." He's not doing this on purpose, not really. He just...doesn't know how to handle it. "I'll see how much homework I've got. After all, math isn't exactly my strong subject and this semester's got some hard shit in it without somebody to decode Morgan's scribble."
He leaves Jared sitting on the ground with wet eyes. He feels hollow. Not victorious. It's not a victory, leaving your once best friend sitting in a deserted play park when he's just attempted to bare his soul to you.
It feels like losing.
***
"You're an asshole." Jared's lips are thinned in a tight line, eyes over-bright as he leans against the lockers, arms folded across his chest.
Jensen slams his locker shut, eyes catching on the faint lines of the pink lettering that he and Mike hadn't been able to remove. "Thought we'd established that years ago."
"You really are, you know that?" Jared's voice rises slightly, shakes. "I said I was sorry."
Jensen shrugs. "Yeah, I know. What d'you want me to say?"
"I want everything to go back to normal!" Jared says, throwing his arms up and letting out a tired-sounding laugh. "Why can't we just be us again?"
Jensen traces his fingertips over the paled letters on his locker, feeling a knot of unhappiness sit uncomfortably in his gut. "We just can't. I can't, Jared."
"I said I was sorry," Jared says again, as if that suddenly makes everything magically better. He puts his hands on his hips, face angry again. "What else can I do? Tell me, and I'll do it. I swear, Jen. Whatever it is, just tell me and I'll do it."
Jensen's saved from answering by the arrival of Sandy, who comes up and loops her arm through Jared's elbow. She smiles prettily at Jensen, pushing a silky, dark sheet of hair back from her face. "Hi, Jensen," she chirps, not seeming to notice how Jared and Jensen are glaring at each other, chests heaving. She squeezes Jared's bicep. "Jay, we need to go - coach Ostroff said he wants cheerleaders and players in the hall first period."
Jared nods, not looking at her. "Sure. Just..." He sighs and shakes his head, pinning Jensen with a hurt glare. It's not a good look on him. "Y'know what, Jensen? I'm done with this. I'm through."
Jensen thinks he should probably feel a lot more hurt by this than he does. After all, it's more than ten years of friendship down the drain, gone as if it never was in the first place. JaredandJensen become Jared and Jensen, not one entity but two.
He nods and swallows around a sudden lump in his throat, turning away and walking off stiffly, his shoulders tight and his eyes unseeing as he marches past other students who are whispering and staring. He distantly feels wet on his cheeks, but he doesn't bother to wipe it away.
"Broke up with your boyfriend, Ackles?" The jeer rises sharply above the general muttering of the crowd.
And that's just it. Jensen snaps, spinning around and hurling his fist into the guy's face. His breath is coming wildly, his chest heaving and his pulse throbbing in his ears. Everything's narrowed down to the asshole's face, the way his eyes widen in fright as Jensen brings his fist down again and again andagainandagain, feeling the satisfying crunch as it connects with the guy's nose and the well of blood warm on his knuckles.
It's only when hands are dragging him off the guy that he stops, trembling with anger and grief and hurt. Blue eyes stare into his worriedly, and he manages to dredge up a weak smile for Misha, who's asking him questions Jensen can't comprehend or answer.
"Jensen," he says, and Jensen blinks stupidly at him. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
He stares dumbly, not sure what Misha's talking about. Misha gives him a little shake, fingers pressing bruises into his shoulders. Jensen's hand hurts, and he glances down at it to see the skin bruised and broken over his knuckles like he'd been punching a brick wall.
Misha brings a hand up to his cheek, touch gentle. "What happened?" he asks, his voice soft and comforting. It would be so easy to just wrap himself in Misha, ignore the fact that his eyes are the wrong colour and he's several inches too small for what Jensen needs. Ignore the fact that he had a small, shy smile and a quiet voice and is so fragile. Jensen will break him, he knows.
He pulls away, staring fixedly at the floor. "'m okay," he says, even though that wasn't what Misha had been asking. "Jus' lemme alone."
He knows that Misha stares after him, eyes wide and hurt, but he can't bring himself to care.
He's an asshole, remember?
***
Somehow, Jensen makes it to the end of the school year without any more major mishaps. He was suspended for a week after hitting the jerk in the corridor, but he guesses it was worth it. He hadn't wanted to see Jared's face that week. Hiding in his bed had been a twisted sort of blessing, an excuse to hide away from the world and pretend nothing ever happened, but stuck with nothing but his own thoughts for company. Misha had called, but he'd switched off his phone and hurled it at the wall.
Prom comes around and Jared, of course, takes Sandy. Misha had asked Jensen, all hopeful blue eyes and sweet words, but Jensen had decided to continue with his asshole status and turned him down, hurling hurtful words at Misha that ripped through the quiet of the library like a hacksaw.
He's not surprised when Misha breaks up with him.
He's surprised by how much he cares, though. He'd thought that Jared had hardened his heart against anybody else hurting him. Obviously not.
He goes to prom all the same, and downs the clichéd spiked punch by the gallon as he watches Jared and Sandy dance together, him cradling her gently against his chest like some precious thing. He's drunk enough that he later finds himself making out with Sadie Pearson in the back of his car. He's not sure whether she's doing so because he's hot or because she doesn't know that gay means 'not interested in girls'.
Later, as he stumbles from his car to his front door, he thinks he sees Jared standing under the tree beneath his window, watching him with cat-like hazel eyes, but when he looks again there's nothing there but still branches and a chipmunk darting up the trunk.
***
Saturday mornings are no longer tennis mornings for Jared and Jensen. Instead, Jensen walks down to the courts by himself - sometimes meeting up with Tom, who is a fairly good player himself although nowhere as good as Jensen or Jared - and hits a few balls, but his heart isn't really into it. The game is distinctly less fun when it's just him against the ball machine, the movements precise and stiff. He works himself into a rhythm - racket swinging out, smacking against the ball in a way that makes his arm thrum with the force of it and sending the ball spinning away back over the net - until his shoulders are aching from the strain of it and sweat is dampening his t-shirt in ugly dark patches.
He takes a break and sits down next to the fence, cracking open a water bottle and downing it in long, gulping swallows until his stomach feels bloated and his mouth tastes of metal. The sun is a bright white heat in the cloudless sky, blazing down onto the cracking tarmac. When Jensen puts his hand down, it comes away sticky and sore with half-melted tar.
He wipes it down his shorts - what the hell, his mom yells at him anyway - and gets to his feet, spinning the racket in his hand in a practised motion that Jared taught him when they were little and obsessed with impressing each other with cool tricks.
"Good game," a voice says from behind him. Jensen doesn't turn around, recognising the speaker's voice and not sure how to react.
"Hardly a game," he says after a beat of awkward silence. "The machine don't make all that good an opponent, Jay."
"Ah." Jared shifts, and Jensen hears the crinkle of a plastic bag. "Well, uh, I guess it's a good thing I brought my racket, then."
Jensen turns around, startled. "What?"
"Mind if I play with you?" Jared says, his face open and just that little bit vulnerable. "I...I haven't kicked your ass in a while. Been missin' it."
Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Missin' my ass?"
"Bitch," Jared says, a wide smile splitting open his face like the sun breaking open the sky after a thunderstorm. He's wearing a too-small green t-shirt with a cartoon sheep staring out of it with ludicrous bug eyes. Jensen remembers giving it to him for his birthday years ago and he's slightly surprised that Jared still has it, let alone wears it. The sight of it give him a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, just behind his breastbone.
Jensen basks in it a while before laughing and flipping him off, his pulse starting to thrum beneath his skin. "You haven't been practising recently," he points out, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. "Might be me kicking your ass."
Jared waggles his eyebrows and laughs. It sounds off, not quite right, and like a punch to the gut Jensen is reminded that they're not back to JaredandJensen again, however much it might seem like it.
"Hit me," he says, licking his lips and smirking wickedly at Jared.
***
They're leaning against the fence, Jensen's fingers looped through the diamonds of wire and Jared has his head tipped back in the warmth of the sun. It's too hot for Jensen, but Jared seems to lap up the sun like he hasn't seen it in ages, tanned skin of his throat glistening with sweat and his Adam's apple bobbing as he drinks from a water bottle. Heat pools in Jensen's gut, and he shifts uncomfortably. No, he tells himself and draws his knees up to his chest, playing with his laces.
"So," Jensen says, after a few minutes of playing with the green plastic coating of the wire in comfortable silence. "What made you decide to turn up today?"
Jared shrugs, opening one eye to peer lazily at him. "Sandy broke up with me."
Jensen stiffens involuntarily at the mention of her name, and Jared pokes him in the thigh.
"Dude, say something."
"I..." Jensen searches for the words to say. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're not," Jared says easily, not sounding at all upset about it. "You hated her."
"I didn't hate her -"
"Yeah, you did."
Jensen bites his lip, unsure of what to say. "Did she say why?"
Jared turns his head to stare straight at Jensen. "Yeah."
Jensen shifts uncomfortably, feeling wrong-footed but slightly excited all the same, though he doesn't know why. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Jared doesn't elaborate, instead reaching across to brush at the tar-streak on Jensen's shorts. He scratches at the mark with an already dirty thumbnail. "Your mom's gonna kill you."
Jensen shrugs. "Doesn't matter."
Jared laughs softly and instead picks up a twig, twiddling it between his fingers and breaking it into bits that he casts onto the tarmac. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something, then leans across and kisses Jensen on the mouth.
Jensen freezes, his heart pounding and his mind going blank. Jared brings up a hand to cup his face, fingers long and gentle. His lips are warm and dry, and he tastes of gummy worms and mint toothpaste, and Jensen's never tasted anything better.
He wraps his fingers in Jared's stupid sheep t-shirt and kisses back.
***
END
There is a sequel half-written that will be posted as soon as it's finished and I have internet access again. Sorry if I don't reply to any comments -- I'm in France with very poor internet connection atm.