NC-17 | Broken Bone | Part 4

[dugindeep]

Previous

When he and Danneel approach security with their passes in their hands, he freezes. Last night, he dreamt of this moment, of them presenting their passes and the big burly man in the red security jacket telling them it’s all a joke, there’s no Jared Padalecki waiting for them, Jensen’s pathetic, and all his wishful thinking is about to be played on the jumbo screen inside the United Center.

Danneel elbowing him breaks him from the unpleasant memory of what he woke up from this morning. She gives him a strange look and waves her pass before she flashes it at the guard at the door. The burly, bald man, who looks nothing like the one in Jensen’s dream, but is equally intimidating, grunts at Jensen, rolls his eyes, and turns away. Apparently that was a yes for entry.

She tugs on Jensen’s arm as they coast through the cement-block-lined hallways, the underbelly of the Center, and come out to the bright lights of the main court. Her nails dig into his bare forearm just before she runs out to the three-point line and fakes a shot.

Jensen laughs, then is lost in the euphoria of the empty arena, thousands of open seats, lights everywhere, and the beloved red and black Bulls logo at center court. He slowly steps onto the hardwood floor and relishes the creaks beneath his boots and the reflection of the lights above narrowing down until he reaches the tip-off ring. Memories of old flash through him, warm and pleasant, invigorating in a way they haven’t been in years. High school and college, long Saturdays playing ball, Sundays icing knees, and Monday through Thursday practices until he couldn’t stand and collapsed on the floor.

He’s buried those thoughts down so low for years, shoveled dirt right over them every time he looked at Jared. But here, in the middle of where the action happens, Jensen can’t help but let the impending energy overwhelm him.

Jensen is so lost, reminiscing a past youth, that he barely recognizes the voice calling out to him. He and Danneel spin around to see Matt walking onto the court from where they’d come.

“Hey! Glad you could make it,” Matt says with his patented grin in place.

Immediately, that one conversation from Jared’s kitchen runs through Jensen’s brain, followed by what happened after Matt had left. He holds those thoughts away, and reaches out to shake Matt’s hand. “Yeah, thanks to Jared for inviting us,” he replies, introduces Danneel, and takes a deep breath. He could be seconds from seeing Jared and ironing this whole matter out. Or failing pathetically.

“Oh, yeah, he agreed it’d be a great story. The All Star with his physical therapist in tow. All eyes are on him tonight for sure.”

Jensen feels a dip of something - his mind, his stomach, maybe his heart. Jared had agreed to bring Jensen in for a photo op and a story.

Either it’s the friend in her, or the pure opportunist, but Danneel steps up and smirks at Matt, laying on the charm. “It’s a wonderful story. And you know, back at Athetlical, we’re all excited for Jared’s return. We’ve been watching his recovery through Jensen. We’re so luck, and happy, that Jared’s recovered.”

Matt gives her a good look-over while he smacks his gum, more than obvious in his appreciation of her tight jeans and low-cut shirt beneath a stylish leather jacket. “That’s awesome,” he smiles back. “So you guys are coworkers, huh?”

“Yeah, Danneel’s pretty good,” Jensen says with a light laugh, trying to work himself back into the conversation, just so he doesn’t have to remember that he’s just here for a story. At the very least, he and Danneel can enjoy the luxury box and a night of good basketball, Jared or no Jared.

Popping his gum into his cheek, Matt keeps on smiling, and it’s pretty damn uncomfortable, really. “Friends? More?”

“No, just friends,” Danneel smirks back.

“That’s awesome,” Matt replies with a small nod.

Jensen snorts and puts his hand to Danneel’s back as he looks at Matt. “So, the note said to be here early?”

“Yes!” Matt says, claps his hands once, and motions for them to follow. “Right this way and we’ll get the formalities out of the way.”

As they trail back through the hallways, turning left when they had taken a right the first time, Matt’s rattling off facts about the building and namedropping like mad. Danneel and Jensen roll their eyes at one another, but Danneel’s also smiling at Matt when he turns towards her. Jensen’s going to give her some space to work her magic, because he’s certain that’s the only reason she’s putting up with Matt’s shtick.

Inside the locker room, half-dressed players move about their business, so many familiar faces Jensen’s mind can’t even keep track of them. He’s certain if he took the time, he could put names to them after watching enough Sportscenter at Jared’s and talking about the game through their sessions. He doesn’t care, though, because in little more than a minute, he can spot Jared’s head bowed from where he’s straddling a bench in front of lockers at the far end of the room. Like everyone else in the room, he’s got an All Star warm-up jacket on with his own Bulls logo across his chest and is dressed to play from the waist down with dark shorts, knee-high socks, and hi-tops.

From his profile, Jared’s whispering something to himself, with his eyes closed and hair slipping down into his face. From rote actions, he’s wrapping white tape around a few knuckles and popping his legs off the balls of his feet. He’s all jittery energy from the waist down even when his shoulders are set solidly and his fingers are spinning the tape perfectly, ending with a tear before moving onto his ring finger.

That brace Jensen bought Jared in their final week, with the anti-moisture technology he couldn’t help but rattle on about the last time he saw Jared, is tucked around Jared’s shin, folded and ready to pulled up whenever he’s set to play. Somehow, it’s that stupid brace that sets Jensen off, because he’s remembering the quietly tense conversation in the ice bath, the last words they spoke to one another, and his mind is spinning far too fast for him to do anything but swallow down the sudden rush nerves.

“Hey, Jay, buddy,” Matt calls out once they’re close, smacking Jared on the back a few times. “How’s my big man doing?” he says, obviously overcompensating and trying to psych Jared up. “You good? You’re lookin’ good, Jay. Lookin’ real good.”

“I’m good,” Jared chuckles quietly. “What’s going-” he starts, but words fall away in a mumble when his eyes tip up and find Jensen and Danneel just beyond Matt.

Jensen might dream the small tilt of Jared’s lips, because there’s nothing but a controlled smiled and appreciation when Jared stands, shakes Jensen’s hand, and looks around the whole group.

Jared’s pleasant and calm when he says, “Hey, good to see you again.”

“You, too,” Jensen smiles carefully, trying to not put too much into it. They share a long look that doesn’t change, but feels charged with awkward tension until Danneel lightly elbows him.

“Hi, I’m Dani,” she says as she nudges herself closer and shakes Jared’s hand a little fast. “We work together at Athletical. I’m a physical therapist, too,” she grins, playing herself up and admiring all the players walking around the room.

“Nice to meet you,” Jared grins toothily, eyes starting to zone in on Danneel’s bright smile and her more than ample assets, like he should to deflect anything else between them. Then he glances at Jensen with a strange look. “Danneel?”

Jensen holds his breath, waiting for Jared to have a negative response. Instead, Jared’s face smoothes out into something friendlier and less public. “Jensen’s told me a lot about you. Well, okay,” he chuckles lightly. “He’d talked about you just a few times. But it’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“You, too!” she replies happily. “Well, I mean, I knew your face, but to finally see it in person,” she starts to ramble, then clears her throat and sweetly smiles to cover the moment.

Laughing, Jensen bumps her shoulder and smirks at Jared. “I hear things are going well. Sounds like you’re having a great season and you’re knee’s good.”

Jared playfully smacks his leg and nods. “Yeah, it’s holding up.” He glances at Jensen in confusion. “Where’ve you been hearing about it? I though you didn’t …”

Jensen bites into his lip and chuckles as Danneel wears her nicest smile to encourage him. “Mostly at the clinic. Or from Danneel,” he admits.

Before they can say more, Matt’s tugging a communications manager and photographer closer. “You guys ready? Just a quick shot and then we’ll let you two get up to your Lexus Box,” he says, like it’s going to be the best moment of their lives.

Jared smacks his lips together and gives a short smile before turning to his locker. In a ceremonial manner, he presents a black Bulls track jacket to Jensen. As Jensen accepts it, wanting to be grateful for the gift, but also recognizing it’s the formality, flashes go off.

The whole thing is stilted and official with Jared saying, “On behalf of the Chicago Bulls, and of course me,” he grins and nods. It’s so obviously fake given that Jensen knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a true smile, and he forces himself to breathe evenly so he doesn’t grow tenser through the moment. “Thank you so much, for all your hard work and your dedication. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Jensen nods, accepts it, and glances up to Jared to smile. But then he sees it: the small, grateful look in Jared’s eyes and the soft turn of his lips. Jensen’s breath catches at the sight, and when Jared nods, Jensen does his best to return the gentle smile in thanks.

“Go ahead, put it on,” Matt insists. Once Jensen’s got the jacket on, Matt pushes Jared and Jensen together and steps back with a bright smile. “Cheese it up, guys.”

Near comically, they each take a deep breath and shuffle next to each other, and Jared rings his arm over Jensen’s shoulder as they smile for the camera. The communications lady asks for a quote on Jared, and Jensen chuckles before saying, “He was one hell of a patient.”

“That’s the best you got?” Jared asks with a laugh.

“Yeah, try being more specific. And stand closer, pretend you like each other,” the woman insists.

They scoot closer, and Jared’s palm closes over Jensen’s shoulder just as Jensen sets his hand to Jared’s lower back. Through Jared’s uniform and jacket, he can feel Jared’s heat, and it reminds him of that time on the massage table, kissing his way up Jared’s body, how easy and responsive Jared was under Jensen’s hands and mouth.

He gulps and clears his throat to make way for words. “He was a hard worker. I mean, he is. We only dream of working with an athlete like Jared.” After a few shots are taken, he lets out, like he means it, because he really does, “He’s a great guy.”

Jared’s hand slowly clamps down on Jensen’s shoulder and slides down to grip his upper arm. Jensen feels the warmth travel like a phantom touch and to keep from shivering, he closes his fingers over the bend of Jared’s back.

When the photographer’s done, Jared shifts away, but faces him and smiles tightly. Jensen’s not sure what he wants to say, there are so many thoughts trying to come through.

Matt interrupts with a clap of his hands and grabs at Jared. “Alrighty, Jay, you’ve got half an hour with Carrie here and these two are gonna get up to their Lexus Box and have a night on us,” and he pulls Jared away, rambling on about other planned photos and interviews.

Jensen tampers down the disappointment and forces a smile to Danneel.

+++

They’re lounging in the padded seats in the second row in the box, resting their feet up on the chairs in front of them and drinking beers from the stash in the fridge in the corner. Jensen can’t deny it’s a great view of the court and they watch the arena fill up while music pounds through the sound system and an LCD TV hangs to their left with the pre-game show on WGN.

They’ve got the box to themselves for most of the early moments of the game, until there’s a bark of a laugh behind them and Jensen hears a familiar little purr. “Jensen Ackles, physical therapist.”

Jensen chokes on his beer, and he and Danneel slowly turn to find Katie strutting through the box and around to the front row of seats. She smirks at them and tilts her head, long blonde hair flowing over her shoulder.

“Hi. Katie,” Jensen says awkwardly.

She keeps on smiling and nods, seemingly impressed. “I should not be surprised you’re here.”

“Well, I am that you are,” he laughs oddly.

“This is Jared’s box,” she points out.

Jensen looks over his shoulder and even if the rest of the box remains empty, he asks, “Is anyone else joining us?”

Another sharp laugh and she plops down one seat over so she can sit and look at them. “I’m sure his family will.” She leans forward for Danneel’s hand. “Hi, I’m Katie. I’m a friend of Jared’s.”

“Danneel. Nice to meet you,” Danneel smiles easily. “I’m a friend of Jensen’s.”

Katie grins. “Oh, nice.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Not the same kind of friend.”

“What?” Danneel asks while Katie laughs.

At Danneel’s confusion, Jensen explains, “Katie hangs around Jared’s. A lot.”

“I am that kind of friend now,” she clarifies. “Don’t you worry you’re pretty little head.” She kicks her feet up to the counter in front of her and flips her hair over her back. “Seems Jared’s more interested in wallowing these days. Says he’s going the straight and narrow. Ironically so,” she adds thoughtfully.

Jensen drinks down the last of his beer to avoid eye contact, from either Danneel or Katie.

+++

Surprisingly, Katie and Danneel hit it off, along with Jared’s family and a few other friends. Everyone in the box gets into the game even when it doesn’t mean a whole heck of a lot to the Bulls’ season. They cheer with good shots and get excited over fast breaks and hard dunks. Jensen even finds himself rising from his seat with the rest of the crowd when Jared swats the ball from mid-air then recovers it near the sidelines, races forward to beat out everyone on the Western Conference team, and slams it in the basket with two hands.

It’s thrilling to hear and feel the arena burst with the theatrics on display by the All Stars. More so that it’s Chicago’s own Jared Padalecki leading the charge and Jensen’s witnessing the player at his best. Just as Jensen’s heard of the season thus far, Jared’s sharp on the court with quick hands and even quicker feet as he pounds the hardwood and lays on the thick defense to cover his man.

But it comes to screeching halt when Jared chases an errant ball, bats it back in-bounds, and trips over the mess of photographers under the basket. He’s slow to move when he shifts to his side and obviously avoids the use of his right knee.

The whole box is standing, but Jensen blocks everyone out. His heart is racing with his eyes right on Jared rolling to his left and getting up to one knee, but not the one he tore up in May. Jensen grabs at his chest, fingers gripping the track jacket he’s had on since their photo op, and when a few team trainers rush over to sidelines to help Jared up, Jensen’s ready to jump out of the box and join them, if only he weren’t all this way off the ground.

The crowd’s antsy, mumbling with worry, but there’s a slow build of clapping and cheering when Jared’s up on his feet. He’s moving, sure, but he’s also limping to the bench to sit. The TV in the corner is barely heard over the noise of the arena - worried spectators and music pulsing through the time-out.

Jensen’s about to come out of his skin with shock and worry. Danneel’s hand curls around his elbow and she’s murmuring that it seems okay. Jared’s family, too, starts sharing good thoughts that Jared’s just fine. He’s not sure if they’re just trying to comfort each other or actually telling the truth, because his body is tingling with fear that Jared’s ripped his knee apart again. And Christ, why he’s so scared for Jared, he can’t even comprehend right now.

All he knows is he’s sweating, and he tears the track jacket off, dumping it into the seat beside him. Everyone sits down again, but he doesn’t look at anyone, not even when Danneel tries to tug him back to his seat. His eyes are still locked on Jared as the trainers bend his knee around, and even from up here, Jensen reads the wince on Jared’s face. Minutes later, Jared and the trainers rise and they lead him down the walkway into the crowd and back to the locker room.

Jensen finds the TV immediately and tries to listen in on what the announcers are saying, but they don’t know much more than he does.

Danneel slips her hand into his and squeezes. “I’m sure he’s okay,” she says lightly.

He shakes her hand away and hops over the back of his seat, hauling out of the box. He’s rushing down walkways and down the escalators and racing through the main concourse. He finds a security guard, waves the pass still hanging around his neck, and gets direction to the locker room. Another guard in the cement hallway eyes him funny, but Jensen runs right past him. When Jensen finds the locker room, it’s mostly empty aside from assistants bustling around and cleaning up errant towels and Gatorade bottles.

He hurries through to a side doorway to the trainers’ room where a few men in black polos and khakis are surrounding Jared on a table in the far corner, and Jensen stalls. He’s really not welcome here, pass or not, but he doesn’t care. Approaching slowly, he listens to the words they’re saying, how they’re directing Jared to move this way and that. More importantly, or worrying, he hears Jared grunt when his knee doesn’t agree with the movements.

Jensen can feel his pulse pound at his temples and he’s sweating from the race down here. The words from the others in the room are fuzzy in his ears, but he finally tunes into what they’re saying.

“You should be good. Just a bad twist,” one guy says and another plants a bag of ice on Jared’s knee.

“That’s awesome,” Jared groans. When the trainers are hovering and fussing with talks of MRIs and slings, he sighs. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?” the first guy asks.

“Five-point-four,” Jared smarts.

Jensen chuckles, remembering when he’d said those numbers to Jared just after they’d blown each other on the table in Jared’s gym. When everyone turns to stare at him, he shrinks against the doorway.

“Hey, buddy,” the third guy says, suddenly angling Jensen toward the door. “You’re a little lost.”

“It’s okay,” Jared says. “Just … give us a minute?”

It takes some time for the room to clear, the trainers shooting Jensen and Jared each odd glances, but they’re left alone after some time. And it’s even longer for either of them to say something.

It’s Jensen first. “How bad is it?”

Jared snorts and looks down as he shifts the bag of ice on his knee. “Not as bad as the last time.”

He slowly nears Jared. “A five-point-four?”

Laughing and dipping his head low, Jared’s hair comes down over his face. Jensen can still see a small blush. “I may have stolen that from someone.”

“You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that,” he jokes as he steps up to the table. Jared grants a small smile and Jensen asks, “Can I take a look?”

Jared’s lips curl into his patented seductive smirk. “At what?”

It’s comforting to see this version of Jared slink out, and Jensen licks his lips and smirks. “Your knee first.”

He moves the ice away, but it’s obvious how he tenses when Jensen reaches for his knee, going stiff in his back and shoulders.

Jensen carefully peels the black elastic brace down Jared’s shin and lightly holds his knee, tucking his fingers under and lightly rubbing his thumbs around the joints. He feels professionalism slip in and calm him a bit. He’s still nervous as hell and fearing any misstep with Jared, but Jared said he could stay, and Jensen’s willing to try to be helpful and supportive. “Where’s it hurt?”

Jared vaguely points to the top, inside area. “It’s sore all on the inside and then it’s, like, this piercing pain if I touch it.”

“Then don’t touch it.”

“Oh, you’re cute,” Jared says with a roll of his eyes.

Jensen smirks and pushes his thumbs into the sides of the knee cap to see how Jared reacts. Jared winces a little and shifts, but Jensen’s glad it’s not a more pronounced response. “You told those guys you were okay,” Jensen points out.

“I wasn’t too freaked until you came in, really.”

Jensen focuses on assessing Jared’s knee so he doesn’t have to think about what Jared means. That Jared doesn’t want him in here, doesn’t want him doing this and being connected to his injury.

Jared lets out a slow yet noisy sigh. “Like I’m not that fucked up if you’re not looking at it,” he admits quietly.

He lifts his eyes to Jared, but Jared’s watching Jensen’s hands, so Jensen gets back to seeking out what’s wrong with Jared’s knee. “So, are these the guys who said you were fine the first time around?”

“Yeah, they are,” he laughs nervously. “How bad is it?”

Jensen presses his fingers at different angles and holds his hand over the top of Jared’s knee while trying to bend it slightly up, then shifting it straight. Thankfully, he feels nothing off. He shoots Jared a small smile as he lightly rubs his palm over Jared’s knee. “Not too bad. You probably just smacked it on the floor.”

“Man, it feels like more than that,” he says shakily. “You sure?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

Jared chuckles. “Pretty sure. That don’t sound like a voice of confidence.”

“You’re fine,” Jensen insists. He trails his fingers over Jared’s vastus muscles, like he did so many times over the summer, massaging to loosen up the tension in his leg.

Jared leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs and he shakes his head. “And at the fuckin’ All Star Game.”

“At least you’ve got a long weekend to rest it.”

Nodding, Jared bites into the corner of his mouth. “Silver lining.”

“Exactly,” Jensen agrees with a smile. “C’mere,” he says, as he nudges Jared’s leg to the side. He maneuvers Jared to sit at the edge of the table with his legs hanging over the side, and slowly lifts Jared’s calf to straighten his knee. “That feel okay?”

Jared sucks in a breath. “Yeah, just tight.”

Jensen squeezes at Jared’s lower thigh, fingers kneading, as he lets Jared’s leg back down. “You’re body’s all locked up and tense. Some more ice, and you’ll be fine.”

He immediately puts the ice back to his knee and twists his ankle around, smiling when it rolls easily. Back in July, that was impossible without some pain. “I remember back when I was a kid, my mom didn’t want me playing football. She said it was too physical.”

“At least they have pads.”

“That’s what I always said,” he laughs.

Jensen nods and at a loss for anything to say, he mumbles as he nudges the bag of ice to the inside where Jared said it hurt. “I met your mom. Your dad, too. They’re both real nice.”

“In the booth? You guys having fun?”

“I was until someone got knocked on their ass.”

“Did you see me save that ball?” Jared argues.

Laughing, Jensen pats Jared’s good knee. “Yeah, you’re a real hero.”

Jared chuckles with him until they’re left in silence. The smile leaves his eyes and his lips set in a line, which betray the gentle way he says, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Thanks for the invite.”

“You really been listening about how I’m playing?”

“You’re the talk of the town,” Jensen answers, feeling nervous under Jared’s gaze. “It’s kinda hard to not hear it.”

“But you’re listening,” he says more than asks.

Quietly, Jensen replies, “Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Padalecki?” one of the trainers calls from the doorway. “You good?”

Jared nods at him. “Think I just banged it on the floor.”

“You ready to get back out there?”

“Yeah, two seconds.” They both watch the guy walk back into the locker room, and Jared is already looking at Jensen when Jensen faces him. “Thanks for coming to check on me. However the fuck fast you got here.”

Jensen chuckles and bites his lip as he glances around the room. He’s seen the inside of rooms like this before, but this moment is so different from those times. Seeing Jared like this is far different, too. “Your security team’s probably got my face plastered in every hallway.”

Jared swipes the back of his knuckles at Jensen’s temple, clearing away the last bits of sweat still dotting his face.

“Jared, I-”

“You okay, Jay?” Matt asks as he rushes into the room.

Jared rolls his eyes. “Ten minutes later.”

Jensen steps back as Jared and Matt start to bicker over the agent’s reaction time and Jared’s knee and then why Jared’s still in the trainers’ room if he’s okay. It’s not uncomfortable, like the first time he watched them in Jared’s kitchen, but Jensen’s well aware he’s past his welcome. Jared’s putting the ice to the side and tugging his brace into place, and Jensen sees it as his cue to leave.

He takes his time returning to the luxury box, cursing the fact that the last time he’ll see Jared face to face will be in that room, with no apologies from either side and nothing spoken of the summer they’d spent together. Gossip says at the end of this season, Jared’s leaving town for the best offer - and there are plenty on the table - making any hope for trying with Jared disintegrate completely.

By the time he makes it back to his seat, the final minutes are counting down the clock. Everyone’s reasonably calmed, especially with Jared back on the bench, and by Danneel’s account, he’d been walking easily when he came back out to the court. He’s comforted by it, and strangely enough, he’s feeling settled by the time spent in the trainers’ room. That Jared let him check his knee and was loose and easy to talk to. There’s still a sharp feeling in his chest that he reacted the way he did, rushing down there like a lunatic. Luckily, there’s more cheer among those in the box for Jensen’s heroics and dedication to their son, brother, and friend than confusion or mocking.

On the way through the main concourse after the game, Jensen’s phone buzzes and it’s a text from Jared.

You still have my key right?

Jensen tenses as he reads the words a few times, because he absolutely does and feels guilty for having hung onto it all this time. He fumbles with the buttons on his phone, but finally responds. I can drop it off.

There isn’t a response until they’re in the parking lot, and it’s a simple Ok

“Good news?” Danneel asks, smiling over the top of Jensen’s car.

“He wants his key back,” he says, lifting his eyebrows skeptically.

She frowns, and he tries to ignore the way she brushes her hand over his in the car.

+++

It’s nearly two hours later, after dropping Danneel off, that he’s at Jared’s. The entire house is dark and Jensen figures Jared’s out for the night with post-game celebrations, given the amount of hot shot players in town. He lets himself in and spins the key off his ring. He’s setting it on a cabinet near the stairs when he swears he hears something on the second floor, and he takes a few steps and waits to hear more. There’re no other noises, so he walks back down, boots cracking on the hard wood.

“Jensen?” Jared calls from upstairs.

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Just leaving the key down here. Sorry I kept it so long. Kinda forgot for a-”

He stops when a light comes on at the landing and he finds Jared standing at the top of the stairs. He’s in track pants and a dark tank top, hair damp and flipping at the ends, with his fingers curling around the banister. “I didn’t really mean for you to return it.”

“I could’ve mailed it, I guess,” he mumbles like a question.

Jared chuckles and shakes his head. “You said you were gonna look at my knee first. What comes after that?”

Jensen stares up at him, taking in the way Jared leans forward and grips the banister tighter. His shoulders roll with the movement and his muscles bulge obscenely. Jensen clears his throat and pathetically says, “Oh.”

“Oh,” Jared smirks. “Yeah.”

He takes the first few steps, hand crawling up the railing as he moves. “Really?”

“If you want to,” he says. It’s almost smug, except Jensen can read a bit of hesitation when Jared tips his head to the side.

Jensen moves up a few more steps. “You want to?”

Jared releases a loud breath and shakes his head. “Yeah, I want you to want to.”

The rest of the stairs are taken slowly, because Jensen can’t help drawing out the way Jared inches his way towards the steps, like he’s set to meet Jensen the second he’s made the top.

“Are you really leaving after this season?” Jensen asks before he can think better of it.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s what everyone says.”

“You’re reading too many papers,” Jared smirks.

“It’s just things I hear,” Jensen shrugs when he reaches the top stairs.

Jared murmurs, “Stop listening to them,” then pulls Jensen in with a strong hand around his neck, kissing immediately.

Jensen runs his hands up Jared’s sides, feeling the bulk of muscles beneath thin cotton and taut skin. He groans into Jared’s mouth at the mold of Jared’s body, not to mention the immediate curl of Jared’s tongue around his own. When he takes a deep breath, he can smell the fresh scent of Jared’s shower, shampoo mixing with soap and the underlying scent of Jared he didn’t realize he’d been missing. It is so damned good to get that smell in his nose, the touch of Jared’s hard body around him, the sound of Jared’s harsh breathing, to remember it all deep in his senses.

With arms wrapped around Jensen’s shoulders, Jared pulls them down the hall and to his bedroom. On the way, Jensen mumbles between kisses, “How’s your knee?”

“Stop worrying,” Jared laughs.

“I’m a professional,” he says with a nip to the corner of Jared’s mouth. “First and foremost.”

Once inside the bedroom, Jared pushes his hands inside Jensen’s jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. “I ever tell you how hot that is.”

“Once or twice,” he smirks and tugs at the end of Jared’s tank top.

They fight to get clothes off, Jensen grabbing for Jared’s as Jared tries to get Jensen out of his. Jared distracts him by yanking Jensen’s shirt up and mouthing across his chest, laving at his nipple and forcing the shirt all the way up over his face. He gets Jensen’s pants unbuttoned as Jensen reaches for the waist band of Jared’s pants, but Jared’s mouth is doing wonders, and he can hardly concentrate. Finally, he grips at the sides of the pants and just yanks, ripping the side snaps open, and Jared laughs as he pulls away and grins at Jensen.

Jared pushes Jensen’s pants down, sits at the edge of the bed, and tugs at Jensen’s boot laces until Jensen kicks them off along with his jeans, leaving them both in their underwear. Jared teases with his fingers dipping just beneath the band of Jensen’s boxer briefs, running along the elastic then pulling Jensen down with him. He turns them over, straddles Jensen’s hips, and drops down to Jensen’s mouth. It’s a wide, open kiss that Jensen handily returns as he paws at Jared’s shoulders until he gets a good grip and forces them over.

As he settles atop Jared, he murmurs, “Stay off your knee,” and kisses up Jared’s neck.

“This is gonna be no fun if you’re putting restrictions on me.”

“We always found ways to have fun before,” Jensen smirks.

“Yeah, we did. Didn’t we?” he asks as he tries to flip them again, but Jensen bears down on Jared’s waist.

“Just, humor me?”

“You are too paranoid,” he groans and pushes his head into the mattress.

“Am not. Just careful,” he insists, running his hands up Jared’s chest, kneading into the muscles. He slides his hand up Jared’s neck, cups his face, and thumbs over his bottom lip. When Jared sucks at the tip, Jensen feels a tingle run up his arm and down his chest, burrowing low in his belly. He grinds down on Jared, their dicks pressing together, hard and hot.

Jared pushes up to Jensen and moans, and it vibrates through Jensen’s hand again, forcing him to start moving into Jared at a steady pace. Jensen tucks a foot beneath Jared’s knee, propping it up as he gets restless with their movements, and Jared groans, but it’s not excited, Jensen can tell.

“Jensen, seriously,” he laughs, annoyed. “You’re ruining this.”

Sighing with both amusement and frustration, Jensen sits back and holds at Jared’s waist, rubbing circles into the dip of his hips. “Okay, sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll try.”

Laughing again, this time in mocking, “You promise you’ll try?”

Jensen runs his hands over Jared’s chest again and lowers his voice, aiming for something dark. “I just don’t wanna mess up this body.”

“All the while, I’ve wanted you to use it up.”

He groans with Jared’s words running right through his system. He’d love to use Jared, turn him over, fuck him into the mattress, do all the things he’s imagined and ignored in favor for Jared’s recovery. It’s a long-standing image that he’s fought to forget, but like Jared, that ain’t easy.

“Okay, you gotta say if it hurts,” Jensen insists.

“I kinda want it to hurt,” he smirks.

“God, you’re difficult,” Jensen groans.

“I’m incredibly easy, but you’re ruining it.”

Fine, Jensen tells himself, and he feels heat flare at the decision to throw caution the fucking wind. He moves off of Jared, flips him over, and yanks his briefs down to show off his incredibly tight and solid ass.

“God, that’s it,” Jared groans, shifting his knees wider.

He licks into the crack of Jared’s ass, ringing his tongue around his hole, and pushing saliva deep into it as he tongues against the rim. He hears and feels Jared’s whimper, his hole clenching around Jensen’s tongue, but he just keeps pressing in tight, licking, and sucking at him. Jared rocks back into Jensen’s face as Jensen fucks his tongue in and out at a regular pace. He pulls Jared’s cheeks wide and laps all around Jared’s ass, wetting his hole obscenely. On a huge gulp of air, Jensen pushes his fingertip inside, relishing the tight ring that seems to suck him right in.

“Jesus, Jen, just do it. Been too long,” Jared mumbles, rocking back on Jensen’s finger.

Jensen shifts with his arm resting over the crest of Jared’s ass, finger still tucked in tight, and he gets back in to lick as he slowly pushes his finger in deeper. Jared’s groaning for more, and Jensen shushes him then gently bites at the round flesh of his ass.

“Where’s your stuff?”

Jared huffs a laugh. “In the drawer over there,” he mumbles, pointing to the left side of the bed.

Jensen licks around his finger, still pulling at Jared’s rim. “I really don’t wanna stop, you have no clue.”

“I think I have a few clues.”

He laughs against Jared’s ass, air puffing inside the hole and making Jared keen. At Jared’s broken sounds, Jensen sighs. “God, Jared, you just …”

“I just what?”

Jensen licks up Jared’s crack, finger sliding slowly in and out. “You were so hot tonight. Wanted to mess you up in that locker room.”

Jared groans and pushes himself back into Jensen’s mouth and hand. “I so would’ve let you.”

His only reply is to push his finger in further and push against Jared’s inner walls.

With a worn-out sigh, Jared pulls forward, turning to his back and shuffling to the bedside table. As he gets lube and a condom, Jensen follows him up the bed to tug Jared’s briefs all the way down and off.

Jensen bends Jared’s right knee and pushes it up to his chest, leaning with it, like all the times they did before. This time, like he’d always imagined, he shifts to let his dick rub over Jared’s hole.

“Fuck you and wait,” Jared moans with a crooked smile.

He laughs and pushes in closer to kiss. “Maybe in the morning, if your knee’s up to it.”

Tossing the things to his side, Jared pulls Jensen in. “Oh, I’m gonna be up for it,” he mumbles at Jensen’s lips before shoving his tongue inside.

Jensen’s so taken with the fire in Jared’s kiss, he doesn’t realize they’ve turned over again until his back smacks the mattress. In one swift move, Jared rips Jensen’s boxer briefs down his legs, and Jensen has to breathe out hard to stop himself from mauling Jared. Last year, they’d traded a few blow jobs, had drawn-out kisses, but not this. He hadn’t seen all of Jared from head to toe, and Jared hadn’t laid him bare on his bed. It’s too much and yet not enough if they don’t get to fucking soon.

Jared leans over Jensen, face dropped close, and he smirks. “How you doing there, doc?”

He slips his hand into Jared’s hair and twines the strands tightly around his fingers before hauling Jared in to take over his mouth, all wet lips and insistent tongue. He can feel Jared’s groan deep into his teeth, rattling around his head and sliding down his spine. Jensen tugs at Jared’s hair then grips tight at his neck and shifts them over again. He settles between Jared’s legs and shoves his hips down to Jared’s, relishing the sounds Jared makes and the way their skin slides together.

He’s overwhelmed by the miles of tan skin before him, by the thought that Jared has had any number of women in his bed to satisfy him, but there’s been none since they were together. And more so, that for all the times Jared could get off, he wants Jensen to do it for him, to take him completely.

Sitting back, Jensen’s hands tremble as reaches for the lube and makes a show of dripping it all over his fingers from up high. When he pushes Jared’s leg up to his chest again, Jared sharply inhales and Jensen smiles, trying to remember how they got along all those months ago. All banter and lazy smirks. “Trust me. I’m a professional.”

Jared laughs with a long rumbling noise that shakes his body as he tips his head back to the pillows and lets his limbs go slack. There’s a hitch in his breathing when Jensen pushes his finger clear in, Jared’s hole all wet with saliva and lube.

Getting two in is a bit slower, and Jared’s body tightens up with the stretch, but a few seconds pass and he loosens up again. Jensen slides his fingers in and out slowly, watching how Jared takes them, and he doubts he has the patience to wait long enough to do this properly, wanting to just jack off right here and be done, get past the need to hold back.

“For the record,” Jared grits out. “In the morning, I’m totally gonna taunt you like this.”

“Can’t wait,” Jensen smirks. He rubs over Jared’s shin even as he nudges it tighter against Jared’s chest. “You ready?”

“Been ready for a long time,” Jared replies, eyeing Jensen seriously before his lips tip into a teasing smile.

Jensen shuffles closer on his knees and gets to the condom, rolling it down and slicking himself up with lube. “So, how long’s it been?” he asks levelly, even though he’s sure he couldn’t bite off this smile if he tried.

“A while. Not since,” Jared replies, nodding at him.

He understands, and while the thought does the good kind of bad things to his brain and stomach and dick, turning him all over himself, it’s not what he meant. “How long since you’ve been properly fucked?”

Jared sighs, rolls his eyes back, and spreads his legs wider. “Gimme your best shot.”

Resting his palm solidly on Jared’s abdomen, Jensen guides his dick against Jared’s hole. Stupidly, he stops and thinks, feeling his heart stutter with the thought that they haven’t seen each other for months, nearly five, and here they are like this. A year ago, he didn’t give a shit about Jared Padalecki, and now he’s sure he’s going to come out of his skin the second he gets inside Jared.

Hanging his head, staring at the way Jared pulls him in and stretches with him, Jensen holds his breath and slowly pushes in until he’s hips to ass. Jared is incredibly tight like impossible suction, so warm and wet. Jensen can’t move, in or out, has to just stay there tucked tight inside. If he slides even an inch, this whole thing is over.

Jared groans and tips his hips forward, making Jensen whimper and clamp his fingers around Jared’s hips as he catches his breath.

“Just, hang on,” Jensen mutters.

One more groan and then Jared squeezes his hole around Jensen’s dick, grinning at him the whole time.

“Oh, you asshole,” Jensen breathes out, starting to laugh. He pushes Jared’s leg to his chest and slowly rocks back and forth, keeping Jared wide and nearly immobile as he leans against him, planting his other hand on Jared’s shoulder to get a better angle.

Jared starts to grind words out, grabbing at Jensen’s neck and back and forcibly pulling Jensen closer as they slide together. Jensen can’t keep track of what’s said between them, only knows that it’s unbearably difficult to concentrate when he is in Jared, has Jared all around him, has his voice in his ears.

He’s not sure how long they last, but they eventually fall apart, Jared coming with a hand on his own dick and Jensen fucking him through it.

Jensen lets Jared’s leg fall away to the side, but keeps his hand loose around Jared’s shin. His other is still planted in the mattress beside Jared’s head, and his head hangs just above Jared’s face. Jared’s hand slips from Jensen’s neck, slapping against his sweaty chest where it lands.

Heavily breathing, Jensen barely stays where he is. He wants to collapse onto Jared, let his elbow go, and avoid the reality of what’s to happen next. Jared has a long weekend then an even longer road trip, he’s heard that much throughout the night. Jared will be back in the limelight at a breakneck pace of being a professional athlete at the top of his career despite the knee that brought them together.

Thinking of that, Jensen rubs his thumb over Jared’s knee. “How’s it feel?”

“And now you expect me to speak,” he mumbles.

Jensen chuckles, cants his hips back to slide out, then shifts to his left and drops to his back. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jared stretching his leg out, palm covering the knee as he bends and straightens it. Jensen sets his cheek to the mattress and tries to find sight of any pain in Jared, and Jared catches him.

“It’s fine. I feel incredibly loose,” Jared insists. He smiles and turns to his side to watch Jensen, cradling his head with a smashed pillow. “You truly are a master of the body.” Jensen laughs and reaches out to smack Jared’s stomach, but Jared catches his hand and threads their fingers. “No lie. You really do deserve a doctorate for knowing how to work the human muscles, mine in particular.”

Rolling his eyes, Jensen pushes at Jared’s stomach with both their hands, then pulls them to settle on his own chest, unwilling to part with the touch of Jared’s palm pressed to his, heat and sweat and a phantom pulse still thrumming steadily.

“You staying?” Jared asks. “I can do breakfast in the morning and maybe you’ll let me test my knee for good.”

“Do you do breakfast?”

“On occasion. I make a mean burnt toast.”

Jensen laughs. “Maybe we go out for eggs.”

“Maybe I’ll call Katie,” he says thoughtfully.

“Um, no, please no.”

“She makes a mean omelet,” Jared insists. At Jensen’s odd look, he goes on, “We’ve modified our arrangement. She cooks and I eat. I couldn’t just lay her off completely.”

“Really?”

“She’s been around for a long time. I didn’t want to just let a good girl go.”

Jensen furrows his brow and purses his lips. “This is a very odd conversation.”

“At least we’re having one.”

A long look at Jared is more than enough for Jensen to nod in agreement.

Jared smirks and thumbs over Jensen’s palm. “So you thought I was hot on the court?”

“There’s something to be said for athletic competency.”

“Especially for a physical therapist.”

Jensen nods and carefully smiles, feeling the same memories from the United Center creep up. “I used to play,” he admits. “So yeah, I appreciate a good zone defense.”

“Really?” Jared asks, voice going high with interest. He grins and shifts closer. “Were you any good?”

“I thought I was. A few scouts, too.”

“What happened?”

Jensen shrugs and stares at the ceiling. “Not everything works out the way you want it.”

Jared shifts over Jensen with a soft smile. “Yeah, but some things do.”

Before Jared can say more, Jensen pulls him down to kiss.

+++

There is breakfast in the form of cereal.

Jensen’s seated atop the island in the kitchen, just his boxer briefs on, a bowl in his lap, a spoonful of milk and flakes in his left hand, and the box of Wheaties in his other.

“Do you get supercharged staring at your face while you eat breakfast?” Jensen asks flatly. He keeps staring at All Star Jared mid-dunk on the front of the orange cereal box.

Jared’s standing next to him, facing the island, and chewing sloppily. He nods as he keeps chewing, looking a bit smug despite the mush between his teeth. Despite that, Jared’s incredibly tempting with the mess of his hair, a hint of scruff coming in, and just a pair of red netted shorts hanging low on his hips, showing off all his tan skin and the fact that there’s nothing underneath.

Of all the scenes starring Jared that have played through Jensen’s mind, this is not one of them, but he’s pleasantly surprised by it anyway. It’s far more comfortable than anything he’d imagined they would share, easy and casual as they stand side-by-side, Jared bringing his bowl up to his lips and slurping down the extra milk.

Jensen stares at him well aware there’s a tiny, amazed smile working its way on his face. Even when Jared looks at Jensen and shoves his tongue around his mouth as he tries to clear any remaining cereal from his teeth. Jared smacks his tongue to the top of his mouth and looks beyond tired, especially with the way his hair is mismanaged with random strands swept across his forehead.

Somehow, Jensen doesn’t care, and he ignores any red alarms as to what could go wrong after this or how he’s falling too deep after months of radio silence.

When Jared sets his hand over Jensen’s knee and rubs across his lower thigh, fingers grazing over a tangle of skin Jensen likes to forget about from time to time, he doesn’t flinch like he usually does.

“Never noticed this before,” Jared says. “Not ‘til last night.”

“Yeah,” Jensen replies lamely, because for all the times he’d been in shorts in the tub, they’d been busy enough with Jared’s treatments to never broach any real subjects.

“Can I ask?”

“You just did,” Jensen nods.

Jared presses his thumb against the scar and snorts. “That’s cute.”

Jensen covers Jared’s hand, as if that hides it, even when he’s about to lay it all out like he hasn’t in years. There’s a tingling need to share it with Jared after beginning to open up last night, he can feel it slinking up on him. “The reason I never got past college ball. Had surgery and here I am,” he says quickly, even when he knows Jared will prod, and he will respond.

“What happened?”

Jared sounds quiet, and concerned, and Jensen’s only a little surprised. “Right before March Madness, I took a nasty spin and tore up my ACL. They had to reconstruct the whole thing.”

The wince Jared’s got is obvious and genuine, which makes Jensen smile a little.

“Took almost a year until I was fully upright. Trainers and my coach said I might not ever be fully mobile again.”

“But you are,” Jared points out.

Jensen nods slowly. “Physical therapy was a life changer. Literally.”

Jared smiles a little. “That’s why you do it.”

He nods again, smiling along with Jared. “I mean, fully mobile to college ball is different to being up on your feet and living, but yeah. By the end of the year I was playing again. Just pick up games, and whatever. I wasn’t totally lost. It felt good for a few months, but I also knew it wouldn’t be the same. A lot of other people knew that, too.”

Beneath Jensen’s hand, Jared’s thumb strokes over the fumbled line as he watches it move slowly across the now-minor blip on above his knee. “You’re bitterness is misplaced, my friend.”

Jensen knows it. He’s well aware he told Jared he was bitter over the Bulls deconstructing after a banner decade when it wasn’t the whole truth. “Just my lies are.”

Jared picks his head up and his eyes skate over Jensen’s face. “Where else did you misplace your lies?”

“With us,” he admits. “When I thought there was no chance.”

“There’s always a chance,” Jared says, in that typical bravado and with that trademark smirk.

“I’m figuring that out.”

+++

In the passing weeks, months more like it, Jensen figures out a few more things. In between the Bulls’ schedule, there is time to see Jared. It’s nothing like traditional dating. They can’t go out and just be together, though they try to hit up local restaurants and bars to breathe fresh air and exist. But they spend a hell of a lot of time at Jared’s, and Jensen doesn’t seek out the space to mind.

There are more games watched from that luxury box with Danneel and even Chris in tow, and nights spent at Jared’s alone. It’s surprisingly easy to fall into the schedule of a few days in town, more spent on the road. It works, somehow, and Jensen doesn’t bother questioning it. Not even when he feels like he’s living a second life outside the clinic and his late night dinners alone while Jared’s off pounding the hardwood and doing his best to smash fiberglass backboards.

Especially in his backyard at any hour.

Jared tosses the ball Jensen’s way, and he catches it easily. Sets his toes behind the three-point line, lit up by the outdoor lights across Jared’s backyard as the night goes on. Jensen pulls the ball back near his head, jumps into the air, and pushes his arms forward. It’s all muscle memory, even from ten, fifteen years back, and his fingers skate thin air when he shoots the ball, visualizing nothing but net as he drops back down to the suspension subsurface of the outdoor court.

The ball coasts through the air, turning over itself as it sails down to the basket. There’s a distinct ding of it smacking the rim and bouncing off to the side followed by Jared’s cackle.

“You are awful,” Jared shouts as he chases the ball down and dribbles it back to middle court. He nails a jump shot like so many aired on national television and jogs over to retrieve it.

“Been a little while,” Jensen grumbles. He rolls his shoulders and his head around to crack his neck and watches Jared dribble seamlessly to the left side of the court and hit a three pointer.

“You must’ve been an awful point guard.” Jared grins and passes the ball to Jensen

“Who says I was a guard?” He dribbles a few feet forward and finally makes a clean shot.

“You’re a little short, doc,” Jared replies as he again shoots from behind the line and the ball whooshes through the net.

Jensen sets his hands on his hips and watches Jared drift around the three-point border. It’s not so bad to see Jared work his magic on the court, but that’s not the point. “You’re avoiding the topic.”

“I don’t know,” he whines in return. “We’ve got two games in Detroit and then two at home.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Jared goes around the court, hitting shot after shot, resolutely ignoring Jensen. The team’s in the playoffs thanks to their second place finish in their division and surviving the first round against Cleveland 4-2. But talk still surrounds Jared as to his future beyond the post-season.

“Well, I’m not thinking that far head,” Jared insists, running a rare missed shot in for a layup.

“Are you even thinking?” he jokes. He knows he’s pestering, but he’s been quiet enough amid the swirl of gossip in the papers and on any news broadcast. Things have been good between them, easy even, yet Jensen’s figuring Jared’s got to look out for his future more than he does what they’ve got here.

“I’m thinking about my jump shot,” Jared replies as he hits another one.

After three more shots, Jensen laughs to himself. “You gonna hog the ball or what?”

“Whatever it takes to ignore you and your inquisition right now.”

“That’s a big word.” He rushes in front of Jared, blocking with defense he’d learned back when he was young and spry and only dreamed of playing in front of any crowd.

Jared spins, bumping his back into Jensen’s chest, and shoves backward as he dribbles easily. “I got another big thing we could talk about.”

There shouldn’t be anything sexual in their contact. It’s the typical rub of players on the court that Jared deals with daily through hours of practice and 60 minutes of official play. But it’s always different with Jared. Jensen’s known that since day one, no matter how hard he ignored it.

Spinning forward, Jared steps left and pivots right. The move is simple yet poetic when he lifts off the ground and flicks the ball off his fingers, right over Jensen’s outstretched hands. The ball smacks the board right in the center of the box and sinks into the net. Jared smirks at Jensen and tips his head thoughtfully, staring for a few seconds. “When I decide, you’ll be, like, the ninth to know.”

Counting Matt and a handful of management on either end, Jensen figures nine is a pretty good number.

“You’re so kind,” he jokes anyway.

“I do try,” Jared nods.

“You ready for a shower?”

It’s not terribly warm for late April, but Jared’s got a fine sheen of sweat coating his arms and face, starting to seep into his grey tee. “I really need one?”

Jensen tugs at the seam of Jared’s shirt, drags a few fingers over Jared’s hip, and lifts an eyebrow. “No, but it sure couldn’t hurt.”

+++

Jensen’s in the break room when the news hits. He’s sifting through a file, updating notes from a week ago on a high school football player who’s got a bum shoulder after playing a long Saturday of flag football at a local park.

His coworkers crowd into the room and Danneel flicks on the TV as Kristen stands by with a ridiculously complicated Excel spreadsheet documenting dates, times, and team names. She keeps checking her watch and crossing off boxes that designate the passing minutes until the press conference starts, and other coworkers hover over her work.

There’s a long table on screen, a few men in suits shuffling into seats, but Jensen couldn’t really give a shit, beyond taking the scene for the amusement that it is.

At 10:07 am, a voice breaks through the speakers with an announcement that lights the room up into excited yells and chatter.

Jensen smirks a little, but only grants a passing glance to the men on screen and the people around him.

“Okay, seven minutes after,” Kristen announces.

There’s a mix of complaints and hushed wonder as they consult her spreadsheet until she groans and turns around to glare at him. “10:07 and he stays,” she reads from the sheet and purses her lips. “You’re a douchebag.”

“It’s been said,” Jensen replies with a smooth smile.

“Two forty,” she says, counting out a handful of bills. “How do you do this every time?”

Jensen puts his hand out with his fingers wagging at her.

She rolls her eyes as she hands over the money. “I hate you.”

“You should, if you knew my connections.”

Some return to work while a handful stay behind to watch Jared field questions from the press in the room.

Danneel drops into the seat next to him and kicks the leg of his own chair. “You’re a dirty cheater.”

Jensen flips the bills into place as he counts the money. “Hey, she begged me to play.”

“Still. Totally unfair.” She goes so far as to pout and cross her arms.

He slides a twenty across the table and smirks. “Just think of all the Lexus Club trips we’re gonna take.”

She grabs the bill off the table, her bet into the pool, and stuffs it into her back pocket. “You’re totally unattractive when you’re smug. Just so you’re aware.”

“I don’t know. Jared seems to like it.”

“He would,” she says, rolling her eyes and getting up to leave.

With only a few stragglers left in the room, he pulls his cell out and texts Jared. $220. Dinner’s on me.

It takes a few hours for Jared to reply. Jensen figures it’s a pretty busy day for him. You play dirty doc

Stop acting like you don’t like it a lil dirty.

Never have, never will

Timestamps