Fic: The Fear You Won't Fall. A "Puzzle" timestamp. J2. PG-13. 1/2
It' still the weekend somewhere, right?
Title: The Fear You Won’t Fall (A timestamp for The Puzzle (That is Me))
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Meaning, NOT true. All right? All right.
Once again I make no claims to actually knowing what I'm talking about when it comes to Asperger's. Research and advice from wiser people only gets me so far. This is fiction written by an outsider and so will never fit perfectly to whatever personal knowledge and/or experience any of you may have. Then again, doesn't that apply to everything?
Warning: This verse explores what Jensen might be like if he had Asperger’s syndrom. Just so you know. Also, this one gets pretty angsty. People with Asperger's tend to have very high levels of stress in their lives, just trying to juggle every day ordinary situations. Add upholding a romantic relationship to that and things are bound to get a bit tense.
Wordcount: 10.630 words
Rating: PG-13, I think
Summary:
Jensen looks so “normal,” and at the same time so Jensen it makes Jared’s heart stutter in his chest. He stands there, with his coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, and he thinks, This is my life now.
It’s a little overwhelming to tell the truth.
“I really do love you,” he says.
“I know,” Jensen answers absently as he fills in the last word. He sets the pen aside then folds the newspaper and places it at the corner of the table in perfect line with the edge before picking up the pen and putting it on top, right in the middle.
“We need to buy milk,” he says as he stands up, not giving Jared as much as a glance before heading upstairs.
Jared closes his eyes. Adapt and adjust. That’s all there is.
Author’s note: Written for matchboximpala for her generous bid at the help_queensland auction. It doesn’t quite follow the request (when does it ever?) but I hope it satisfies anyway. *hugs*
Takes place in the early months of the second season of SPN, about 8 months after Jensen and Jared get together. Read over by katy4650 who once again gave me invaluable insight and advice. Beta’d by candygramme. Thank you, girls!
Title from the song by Joshua Radin.
It’s dark by the time Jensen crawls out of the closet, joints creaking as he straightens up. His butt aches with the imprint of one of his dress shoes. There’s dust in his nostrils, in his hair. Dirt under his fingernails from the floorboards. The skin on his face feels stiff, tears turned to glue in their tracks. His eyelids are heavy with cooled down heat.
His head is finally quiet. No more ants crawling under his skin, trying to get out. His heart has stopped racing and slowed down to an easy jog.
He’s forgotten what made him lose control. Something Jared said? Something he did? It had seemed crucial at the time, but now he can’t even remember what it was. It’s all lost in the tycoon of anger and panic and not understanding.
He just remembers for one moment wishing he’d never laid eyes on Jared Tristan Padalecki, because Jared Tristan Padalecki is the only person in the whole world that can make Jensen feel like this. All this. Hatred for what he is, jealous of what he can’t be, angry at everything that doesn’t make sense. Afraid of what he does have, what he can lose.
So, so afraid.
He smoothes out the wrinkles in his clothes, runs a hand through his hair. Rubs at his face with his fingers to soften up the skin. Then steps hesitantly up to the door and twists the doorknob.
Sometimes Jared waits outside, back against the wall, long legs stretched across the hallway. Book in hand, a bottle of beer by his side. Face carefully void of all expressions as he stands up, trying to read Jensen’s mood. Then a hug or just a light kiss, Jared’s palm on Jensen’s face and a quiet “Hey,” and “Are you all right?” or just “I saved you some pizza.”
Jensen opens the door to reveal an empty hallway. Silent. Condemning. His stomach clenches. He steps out and walks through the too quiet house, nerves twitching with anxiety. Room after room after room.
He finds Jared asleep in their bed, arm slung over his eyes, mouth still set in a thin taut line.
Jensen stands still, watching. Hovering. Unsure. His eyes fall on the sliver of skin where Jared’s t-shirt has ridden up, showing a trail of downy hairs disappearing under the waistline of his jeans. Jensen purses his lips. Bites into the right corner of his lower lip and pulls on it with his teeth until it snaps free. Nods to himself. Then crawls into bed and starts working on Jared’s zipper.
Orgasms release the neurohormone oxytocin, which evokes feelings of contentment, reductions in anxiety, and feelings of calmness and security, as well as increasing empathy; all elements that will make Jared less inclined to hold on to his anger.
Plus, with his mouth full of cock Jensen is less likely to say something that might make the whole argument flare up again.
An hour later Jensen is lying half on top of Jared, fighting to catch his breath.
Despite Jensen’s concerns Jared had not woken up angry. Surprised, though, and a little confused judging by the repeated, “What? Jensen… What are you…?” before Jensen got his mouth on him. Then happy. And appreciative. As evident by the pleasant ache in Jensen’s anus. (‘Do you have to call it that?’ Jared had groaned one night, shortly after they got together. ‘It sounds so… awkward.’ Jensen doesn’t really understand why it’s awkward, but he’s tried to remember to use Jared’s words when he’s talking. Even if he finds the words ‘ass’ and ‘hole’ much more inappropriate, especially considering the number of times he’s been called an asshole for no apparent reason.)
Jared’s arm sneaks around Jensen, pulling him close. Jensen closes his eyes. His heavy breathing shifts into short, careful intakes as he tries his best to keep still. His body must release less oxytocin than a normal person’s when he has an orgasm; the feelings of calmness, security and contentment never hold on for long enough to help him through this part:
Jared likes to cuddle. Jared thinks cuddling is just as important as sex. Sometimes Jared even prefers cuddling to sex. Jensen thinks cuddling is more like strangulation. But he loves Jared so he tries, he really does. He’s getting better at post-coital cuddling. He’s up to forty seconds now, aiming for a minute.
Fifty-two seconds later he jerks away and rolls out of bed. As he heads to the bathroom to clean up and brush his teeth he hears Jared sigh behind him, and the sound makes him falter in his steps.
He is trying. He’s making the best effort he can. Jared just doesn’t understand how it feels. How someone’s touch can one minute be comforting and the next feel like a thousand hands all over his skin, greedy, grabbing, pulling him under. Suffocating him. There’s only so much he can take of it.
When he gets back Jared has pulled the covers up to his chest, his eyes are closed, and his t-shirt lies sticky and discarded on the floor.
Jensen picks it up and takes it into the bathroom, puts it in the hamper. Mutters, “Brush your teeth,” quietly under his breath to keep from saying it out loud. Jared is a grown man; if he wants his teeth to rot because he’s too lazy after sex to get up and brush them, that’s his prerogative. Or so Jared says. Even if it’s Jensen that has to tolerate his breath in the morning.
Jensen slips under the covers, lies on his back, closes his eyes. Counts the seconds until he can say goodnight without sounding dismissive. (More than fifteen but less than sixty-five, or Jared will think something is wrong.) He’s always found the practice rather pointless. If he wished Jared would have a bad night, then maybe it would be worth mentioning, but Jared has no reason to think Jensen’s changed his mind from the night before. Or the night before that. It’s ridiculous how much time people waste on repeating things they already know.
Just as he deems it safe to let the words out he hears Jared turn his head on the pillow beside him then feels him shift, the bed dipping from the weight. Moments later there are fingers at Jensen’s brow, slipping through the drops of sweat still clinging to his temple. His eyebrow twitches, but he manages to keep still and not jerk away from the unexpected touch. It’s his own fault. If he’d kept his eyes open he would have seen it coming.
“I do love you,” Jared says quietly.
Jensen hums in agreement. He knows. Jared keeps telling him, all the time. Jensen isn’t sure why. It’s not like he’s forgotten.
The hand finally moves away, but only to come rest upon Jensen’s chest instead.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Jared pauses. Jensen can hear him nibble at his lips. “I didn’t mean to… do… whatever I did. I’m sorry.”
Jensen sucks in his breath then lets it out slowly. So it wasn’t his fault. Whatever it was.
“Okay,” he says, relieved.
“Okay?” Jared repeats.
“Yeah.”
Jared breathes out. His hand is heavy on Jensen’s chest. “Okay.” He kisses Jensen’s temple. “You are kind of amazing, you know that?”
Jensen blinks his eyes open, glancing warily up at Jared. “We’ve had sex before,” he points out, not sure where this is going. His head is still a little groggy from the orgasms. “Many times.”
Jared laughs softly. “I wasn’t talking about the sex. I just meant… you. I think you’re amazing.”
Jensen doesn’t really understand what’s so amazing about being a neurotic anti-social weirdo but arguing after sex seems counterproductive, so he lets it go.
“Okay.” He yawns. “Goodnight.”
Jared’s hand lingers on Jensen’s chest before finally pulling away. “Sleep tight,” he says.
Jensen hums again. He’s halfway there already.
-------
Jared blinks owlishly up at the ceiling, at the bright light streaming through the curtains, then yawns and rubs a hand over his face. He still has the taste of Jensen in his mouth, a taste gone sour with sleep, but somehow recognizable just the same. It’s oddly comforting. He reaches for his watch where it lies on the bedside table, checks the time. Ten o’clock. Huh. No wonder he’s feeling disoriented.
Sleeping in on his days off became a thing of the past when he moved out of his parents’ home and got dogs of his own. It’s nothing he’s ever minded, preferred it even, but he has to admit it’s nice being allowed a few more hours of sleep every now and then. One of the many perks of living with someone who gets up early every morning anyway: they don’t mind letting your dogs out into the backyard if you’re too lazy to get out of bed.
Jared looks over at the empty space beside him. On the other hand it would be even nicer if he could share those few hours with Jensen snuggled up to him.
He understands it, he does. Totally respects Jensen’s need to keep to his schedule no matter what. But he can’t help feeling a little disappointed sometimes that they can’t spend their Sunday mornings like any other couple. Sleep late, laze around in bed, make love…
He swallows those thoughts down, before they turn destructive. He knew what he was signing up for when they started this. It’s just a matter of adjusting, the way all couples have to adjust to each other’s quirks and habits. He’s sure Jensen struggles with a lot of his habits and considering how much harder it is for Jensen to adapt to change than it is for Jared, he doesn’t really feel like he has any right to complain. And he’s not. It’s just… different. That’s all.
He gets up and brushes his teeth then takes a quick shower before getting dressed and heading downstairs. Jensen is sitting in his usual place by the kitchen table; glasses perched on his nose, half a cup of coffee cooling by his side as he works his way methodically through the Sunday crosswords. Down first, from left to right; then across, top to bottom.
“Morning,” Jared says as he comes up behind Jensen and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. Jensen smells of shampoo, and soap and a hint of shaving cream. His cheek is smooth as a baby’s bottom, weekends being the only times he’s allowed to shave Dean’s stubble off.
Jared’s own cheeks are rough, enjoying the temporary freedom from upholding Sam’s youthful appearance. He likes that they alternate their looks like that, from Dean and Sam to Jensen and Jared. It helps keeping their real and fictional lives separate.
Jensen hums in reply, his focus on the word puzzle in front of him. Jared skims through the clues but he knows better now than to try and suggest solutions. Instead he pours himself a cup of coffee and tops up Jensen’s without asking. Judging by the fast pace of Jensen’s pen tapping against the newspaper he’s on his second or even third cup already, but Jensen insists he needs caffeine to think. As soon as Jared’s had his breakfast they’ll be heading out for a few hours anyway. That should sober him up some.
As Jared moves around the kitchen - making toast, pouring himself orange juice, slicing an apple - he keeps glancing over at Jensen, watching him work.
Jensen’s expression is mostly vacant although every now and then there will be a small twitch, at his eyebrow, his nose, his lips… before his face smoothes out again, and he fills in each box with the right letter. His hair is meticulously groomed, split in the side and combed down. Jared prefers it Dean style but apparently this is the way Jensen’s mother taught him to comb his hair before going to church, and he’s having a hard time letting go of it despite having given up Sunday services years ago. He’s wearing his usual Sunday clothes: soft-worn jeans, and the blue t-shirt that says “I’m not anti-social, I’m just not user friendly” that his sister gave him last Christmas. It always makes Jared smile, if a little bittersweet.
Jensen looks so “normal,” and at the same time so Jensen it makes Jared’s heart stutter in his chest. He stands there, with his coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, and he thinks, This is my life now.
It’s a little overwhelming to tell the truth.
“I really do love you,” he says.
“I know,” Jensen answers absently as he fills in the last word. He sets the pen aside then folds the newspaper and places it at the corner of the table in perfect line with the edge before picking up the pen and putting it on top, right in the middle.
“We need to buy milk,” he says as he stands up, not giving Jared as much as a glance before heading upstairs.
Jared closes his eyes. Adapt and adjust. That’s all there is.
-------
“Ridiculous,” Jensen says, clicking his teeth in irritation. “Give me the phone, I need to call Sera.”
“You’re not calling Sera at nine o’clock on a Sunday night to bitch about the script,” Jared tells him. He sounds amused. “What’s so ridiculous anyway?” he adds as he moves to peer over Jensen’s shoulder, breath warm on his neck.
Jensen’s jaw ticks, but he manages to resist shrugging Jared off. For now.
“The car!” he says, focusing his irritation on that instead. “It was crushed by a fucking semi, and they think Dean can rebuild it in a month? All by himself? It’s idiotic. Completely unpractical. Phone. Give me the phone.”
“No,” Jared says firmly. “Jensen, c’mon, it’s fiction. Let it go.”
Jensen starts to argue, but Jared just kisses him on the cheek then nuzzles into his neck. His stubble scratches Jensen’s skin. Jensen tries not to let it bother him that Jared never shaves on their days off, but he can’t help feeling annoyed. A man should either have a beard or not.
Unless, apparently, he’s Dean Winchester, and his creator thinks a permanent five o’clock shadow makes him look tougher. (Five o’clock isn’t permanent! And even if it was, (It isn’t and can never be.) hair doesn’t stop growing. There’s ignorant, and then there’s just plain stupid. Clearly this falls in the second category, but no matter how he tried to explain it to them they wouldn’t change their mind.)
Not shaving doesn’t make Jared look tougher; it just makes him look lazy.
“You’re cute when you get all worked up over technical details,” Jared says, totally misreading Jensen’s expression.
“I’m not cute, I’m good looking,” Jensen rectifies. “Phone.”
“How about I give you a blowjob instead?”
Jensen looks up with a frown. “How will that fix the script?”
A strange look passes over Jared’s face, but then he smiles. “I was more thinking it might distract you enough to forget about the script.”
“Your blowjobs aren’t actually mindblowing, Jared,” Jensen points out. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
Jared blinks. He takes a deep breath and smiles. “Okay then,” he says and walks out.
It takes Jensen ten minutes to realize Jared isn’t fetching the phone. An additional five to figure out it probably has something to do with what they were talking about. But no matter how he racks his brain he can’t figure out what he said wrong.
Jensen puts down the script, now covered in the usual red scribbles, and goes looking for his illogical boyfriend.
“Jared?”
He’s not in the kitchen, not in the bathroom.
Jensen frowns. The house is silent. Jared wouldn’t have gone to sleep already, would he? That’s hardly practical.
He heads upstairs, passing Sadie on the landing. She looks up at him with sleepy eyes before laying her head back down on her paws with a sigh. There’s a small crack on the door to Jared’s old bedroom, the one he slept in before they started sleeping together. Jensen can hear the soft murmur of Jared’s voice from within, and he’s about to walk in and ask if Jared is talking to Sera about the script when he hears his name mentioned.
“I knew it wouldn’t be easy but… I was worried about the big things, you know. Like the tantrums, and the meltdowns, and the way he gets really stressed about stuff. And okay, yeah, how to ease up on the metaphors, because apparently I say a lot of stupid things that don’t make sense.”
He laughs but it’s not his happy laugh. This one sounds like he wants to, ‘Just get out of here. Jensen, you mind? Now.’ (Two months ago. A bar. Some guys kept whistling, laughing. Calling them boyfriends. Which they are, so Jensen didn’t quite get why Jared got so upset. They hardly made it through the door at home, before Jared had Jensen up against the wall, kissing him. They’d fucked right there in the hallway, and Jensen forgot about the whole bar incident. Until now.)
“I just never thought of how it would affect me. How I’d feel, you know. I just don’t know how to deal with...” Jared sighs loudly. “He never says anything. I know he cares about me, he practically told me he was in love with me when we first got together but… That was eight months ago! What if he’s changed his mind? No, I don’t think he’s changed his mind, I’m just saying, if he had, would he even tell me?” He sighs again. “Shit, Sandy. I’m so gone… it would fucking kill me.”
Jared goes quiet, the only sound detectable that of his labored breathing and the murmur of a female voice on the other end of the line.
Jensen stands in the hallway, eyes blinking rapidly. His teeth dig into his lower lip. He takes a step back, then forward, then turns around and heads first for the master bedroom then changes his mind and hurries back downstairs. Sadie watches him go, one eyebrow quirked, before getting slowly to her feet and padding after him through the house and out into the backyard.
Jensen sits down on the porch. His heart is going so fast he feels dizzy.
Jared is going away. Leaving. Jared is leaving him.
He has no idea what to do. How to make Jared happy. How to make him not leave.
Sadie lays her head in his lap, gazing up at him with soulful eyes. Jensen scratches her absently behind the ears, and she lets out a low happy noise.
“I don’t want him to leave,” he tells her. She licks his hand. “I just don’t want him to leave me.”
His chest really, really hurts.
“Jesus, Jen. How long have you been sitting here?” Jared asks, sounding concerned. He sits down beside Jensen on the porch and wraps his long arms around him, pulling him tight. “Shit, you’re freezing.”
Jensen forces himself to relax despite his heart racing like a runaway train. Jared likes hugs. Jensen mentally puts hugs on the top of the list of things he can do to keep Jared happy.
“Hey,” Jared says, nudging Jensen’s cheek with his nose. “Everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jensen answers; because 1) saying yes would be lying, and 2) he wants to know what Jared thinks is wrong. With him. With them. Why are you leaving? What did I do? Tell me how to fix it.
“No reason, you’re just quiet.”
“I never say anything,” Jensen echoes although he doesn’t quite get it. If anything he thought he talked too much.
Jared pulls back and looks at him. He’s smiling, like this whole thing is funny. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s one other thing Jensen just doesn’t get.
“You talked my ear off for almost an hour this morning about why we actually should forget the Alamo.”
Okay, now he feels even more confused. Maybe Jared meant he only talks about things no one wants to hear about? That he never says anything important, anything interesting? Was that what he meant?
“I’m sorry. I’ve told you, you need to shut me up. I’ll talk, I’ll talk, and I’ll talk if you don’t shut me up. Why didn’t you just shut me the fuck up!?!”
Jared’s smile falters. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I like it when you talk my ear off.”
Jensen closes his eyes. He is so close to the edge. He wants to scream, and yell and throw things, until the chaos in his head calms down, and he can think clearly again. But he did that yesterday, for some reason he still can’t remember, and now Jared is leaving.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not good. I’m not good right now. ”
“It’s okay,” Jared says. He pulls completely away, shifting until there are a few inches between them. “Better?”
Jensen carefully opens his eyes. Nods. “Sorry. Too many thoughts in my head. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jared repeats. He’s looking increasingly worried. “Stop apologizing. Anything I can do to help?”
Yes, Jensen thinks. Promise me you won’t leave.
He shakes his head. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” That’s not why I need you, he means but he can’t explain what exactly it is he needs from Jared. There’s so much. Love, sex, friendship, everything. To not leave. To just be here, always.
Jared looks at him. “I like taking care of you.” There’s a frown between his eyebrows, and his lips are slightly downturned. His voice is very quiet. That means he’s feeling hurt. Which means Jensen got it wrong. Again.
“Sorry,” he says. Everything is so confusing. Why are people so damn confusing? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t…” Jared stops and sighs. “Never mind. How about we go inside? You’re not even wearing a sweater.”
Jensen jumps obediently to his feet and goes back into the house. It takes Sadie whining pitifully for him to look back and realize Jared is still outside, watching him through the glass door. There’s a moment of silence, and then Jared opens the door and steps through. He looks… Amused? Tired? Irritated? Jensen just can’t tell.
“Next time, don’t close the door in my face, all right?” Jared says and offers him a small strained smile.
Oh. “I didn’t mean to.” His skin itches. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” Fuck.
He slams the heel of his hand into his temple, before things get completely out of hand. It hurts a little, and it always makes people flinch when he does this but at least it shuts him up. He gets in two hits before Jared takes him by the wrist and pulls his hand away then kisses his temple.
“Don’t. It’s okay.” He kisses Jensen again, on the lips this time, light and warm. “Don’t worry about it. Just… go put a sweater on. You’re shivering.”
Jensen puts on a sweater. He sits down on the couch, moving closer when Jared asks him to. Mirrors Jared’s smile, kisses back when Jared kisses him. Searches his brain for something to say. Something important. Can’t find anything. Stares at the TV instead.
There’s a documentary about sharks on Discovery Channel. There have been programs about sharks on Discovery Channel for three days now. Jensen lost interest after the first two hours, but he still watches whenever Jared turns on the TV, because Jared loves sharks, and Jensen would rather be bored with Jared than watch interesting things without him.
Jared’s fingers are absently stroking Jensen’s neck. After a while Sadie shuffles over and lays her head on Jared’s knee. Jared starts scratching her behind the ears with his free hand, in the exact same rhythm as he’s stroking Jensen.
Sadie looks up and meets Jensen’s eyes.
Jensen shifts, uncomfortable. She’s wrong. He’s not like her. He’s not Jared’s dog, constantly seeking his master’s approval. Whatever the present situation might imply.
-------
When Jensen needs answers he doesn’t usually bother with people. Instead he turns to books.
He has pretty much every book there is about Asperger’s syndrome, most of them by courtesy of his mother. Some of them he knows by heart, others he has barely cracked the spine of.
After he started working with Jared his mother started sending him books about romance and relationships even if all he’d told her about Jared was that he was tall, nice, and very confusing. Seems she’d figured out before he did that for once his confusion had very little to do with his head and everything to do with his heart.
He’d skimmed through those books, but pretty much all of them are directed at NTs, like they are the only ones seeking answers when it comes to Aspie/NT relationships. After flipping through chapter upon chapter about all the problems his behavior could cause in a relationship, and how the poor NTs should go about coping with someone so difficult, he got too frustrated to continue and banished the books to their place on the shelf.
He’s perfectly aware of what he is, that is not the issue. But being an Aspie doesn’t define who he is, no more than being gay does, or being an actor, or Texan, or tall or handsome. He’s not a product of these things and these things alone. He has his own traits, and habits and feelings just like everyone. Just like “normal” people. Above all he is himself, Jensen. So as helpful as many of the books his mother has bought for him are, they also piss him off. A lot. All those general assumptions, like he’s a breed to be characterized, by professionals that in fact have no idea what it’s like inside his head. He wants to write the authors of those books long letters, telling them in so many words about all the ways that they are wrong. The only books he feels get it at least half-way right are the ones written by people who are like him.
But if Jensen wants to keep Jared from leaving he needs to find out what it is normal people, people like Jared, expect from a relationship. Then try to figure out how he can live up to those expectations. He’s a great actor, he should be able to play the role of a perfect boyfriend.
Of course there is no script, no outlined plot, everything is bluescreen, and he’s playing against someone who insists on improvising Every. Single. Fucking. Line.
Jensen sucks in his breath. Lets it out slowly. Cool it. No more panicking. He can do this.
He pulls out the books that focus on relationships and takes them to the kitchen table. Gets a ruler, a notebook, a pencil and a highlighter. And a very large cup of coffee. Jared won’t be home for at least two more hours. That should be enough time.
One hour and fifty-five minutes later he returns the books to their place on the shelf, his hands shaking with anxiety. The notes he made have been memorized, then shredded and hidden under an empty milk carton in the trash. Not that they’ll do much good.
He was wrong. He can’t do this.
He hadn’t realized normal people were so needy. And petty, and childish and just plain ridiculous. And they say he’s difficult! It’s a wonder NTs get married at all. How can anyone live up to all those expectations?
Just thinking about all the things he’s been doing wrong these last eight months has his heart racing in panic.
It all makes sense now. Of course Jared is leaving. The only real mystery is why he hasn’t left sooner. Out of pity, most likely. That’s the reason people usually interact with Jensen. That and curiosity. Always trying to figure out how that weird little brain of his works.
Plus Jared gets sex, of course. At least that’s one area where Jensen is doing all right. He thinks. Jared hasn’t complained. Not that the books actually get into the praxis of NT/Aspie sex. Mostly they just talk about how important sex is to a successful relationship. Apparently many Aspies have little interest in sex. They find it uncomfortable, overwhelming. Sensory overload to the point of painful. Guess he should be thankful he doesn’t have that problem on top of everything else.
Jensen likes sex. He’s always liked sex. First he liked it just as means of relaxation, but then he got curious and read up on all the different kinds of sexual acts you could perform, especially if you had a partner. Or several.
(He’s never gone for several; honestly, it’s complicated enough picking up one partner. Of course having a boyfriend means if he wanted to try it, at least this time he’d be one step ahead. But he doesn’t want to add to what he already has. He just wants Jared. He just wants to keep Jared.)
His first adventures into the world of dating had been disastrous. He’d sat there in the principal’s office with his parents on each side looking pale and harried as they tried to explain to him that there were some things you just didn’t do. Especially when you were only fifteen. Jensen still isn’t sure if they were more distraught by the fact that he’d been trying to hit on his math teacher, or that said teacher was male.
“Son, there are so many nice girls in your class,” his father had said, his lips thin and his jaw tight, the way he looked when he found Jensen especially difficult. “Don’t you like them?”
Jensen had nodded. “I like them,” he’d said and his father had breathed out in relief, but it was short-lived as Jensen continued, “But I don’t want to have sex with them. Breasts don’t interest me. I like muscles. And penises.”
“You’re only fifteen! You can’t possibly know…”
“Alan, he’s gay,” his mother had sighed. “Let it be.”
She’d laid a palm on Jensen’s cheek, smiling a little when Jensen leaned automatically into the touch. His mother’s hands had always been a source of comfort to him. So soft and warm.
“It’s okay, honey. We’d kinda figured. Just didn’t expect it to come up so soon, I guess. But now it has…” Her face turned serious and she pulled back and straightened up. “We’ll talk about the rules when we get home.”
The rules turned out to be both frustrating and irrational.
No sex before he was eighteen even though he had a perfectly functioning penis already and had been practicing self-gratification for the last three years.
“That’s the law,” his dad had said firmly. “You don’t break the law, Jensen.” Then why had Josh been having sex with his girlfriends at sixteen? “That’s different. Still illegal,” his father grudgingly admitted, “but different.”
Actually, a lot about dating boys was ‘different’. Apparently his sexuality was ‘private’ and ‘not to be flaunted’. Which meant no kissing, or holding hands in public or telling strangers he liked boys.
“Not everyone is tolerant of such things,” his mother had told him, looking very serious. “Some people… they can turn mean and hateful. Even violent. So don’t tell anyone, unless you’re absolutely sure they are real friends. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jensen?”
Jensen had nodded. He knew by then that not everyone who talked to him was a real friend. Some just pretended to be and then said bad things or even laughed at him as soon as he turned his back.
His dad had suddenly stood up and walked to the window to stare out into the dark. “You really didn’t get the easiest lot in life, did you, son?” he’d said after a while, and when he’d looked back he’d been smiling that little smile of his that really meant he was sad but didn’t want Jensen to know.
Jensen had just shrugged and smiled back, although he hadn’t really understood what his dad meant. The easiest lot of what?
He’d lost interest in sex after that, since he had to wait three years anyway. Wasn’t really until he got into acting in his senior year in high school that he’d approached the subject again, this time with considerable more success.
Apparently pretending to be someone else made him a lot more attractive in the eyes of others than just being himself did.
He’d turned eighteen that spring, and within a month he’d lost his virginity in most ways possible. He got jerked off in the dressing room, blown in the small bathroom next to it. Fumbled his way through the actual sex act in the upstairs bedroom of the assistant director while the rest of the cast celebrated the premiere in the living room below.
It hadn’t hurt as much as he’d expected, hadn’t really done much of anything. Later he’d learned to appreciate the benefit of starting with someone so ungenerously endowed, but it didn’t take long before he went looking for something more substantial. He found it in the pants of his old ninth grade math teacher, whose moral objections had apparently worn off the moment Jensen graduated to high school. Turns out size really does matter. A lot. No wonder he likes sex with Jared so much.
He doesn’t know why he’s had an easier time acquiring sexual partners than most Aspies. Well, he is a good actor, there is that. There are plenty of womanizing characters in both movies and on TV whose tactics he’s been able to memorize and then utilize in picking up men. It’s quite possible though that being gay has even more to do with it. Apparently girls are a lot more complex than guys when it comes to sex. As in usually not wanting to have any, unless there’s an emotional connection, preferably romantic, with promises of commitment, established after an appropriate period of dating that serves to calculate the couple’s comparability. Talk about complicated!
Guys, as a rule, were easy once Jensen had fine-tuned his gaydar. Jensen’s pretty face and an open invitation was all they needed to be up and ready. Romance didn’t really figure into the equation, something Jensen was grateful for. Social interaction was complicated enough as it was. For the longest time he’d thought maybe he wasn’t even capable of feeling romantic love. Physically attracted to someone, yes. Intellectually interested in a person, yes. Caring for someone and wishing for their approval (although that mostly applied to his family), yes. A combination of all three towards one single person? No, not really.
Until Jared. Meeting Jared meant suddenly understanding, to a degree at least, what all those irrational love songs were about. The ones about the heart expanding and feeling like you’re flying, of butterflies in the stomach and seeing only one person in a sea of millions. All those physically impossible things he thought people were making up, suddenly applied to him.
It was a revelation. He was capable of love after all. He was in love. He loved Jared.
Like then it fills him as much with dread as it does with happiness. Because not only does he believe Jared is the only person he will ever love, he’s certain Jared is the only person that will ever love him. Which means losing Jared will leave Jensen alone for the rest of his life.
Before he met Jared he’d pretty much expected that to be his future. Had accepted it even, if rather reluctantly. But now… Being alone, being without Jared? The thought is terrifying!
The front door slams shut, making him jerk out of his thoughts so violently he swings around, heart caught in his throat.
“Shit, sorry,” Jared calls out from the hallway. “Jensen, you home?”
Jensen thinks about not answering. About slipping out into the backyard and waiting there until it gets too dark for Jared to find him. He quickly wipes at his eyes but they’re dry even if they sting. There’s a headache pounding at his temple. Maybe if he’s quick enough he can go hide in the closet again before Jared -
“There you are.”
Jared is smiling but something in Jensen’s expression must alert him, because he stops a couple of feet away instead of pulling Jensen in for the usual hug and kiss. “Hey. Everything all right?”
Jensen wavers. He has a feeling that if he starts talking he’ll say too much, and that’s never good.
“Yes,” he lies then smiles and adds, “I’m glad you’re home.” There. Stating the obvious. NTs like that.
Jared looks at him a little strangely. “Well, I’m happy to be home,” he says. “You sure you’re all right?”
Jensen searches his mind for how to respond since a simple yes obviously doesn’t do.
“You startled me,” he finally says because that’s true. “I was lost in thought.” Also true. “Nothing important.” Not true but as long as he keeps the same tone of voice Jared won’t know the difference.
Sure enough Jared smiles and pulls Jensen in for a kiss. “Sorry for startling you.”
“It’s okay.” Jensen swallows the lump in his throat. His eyes sting again so he hides his face in Jared’s shirt, clutching it in his fists to keep Jared from pulling back and seeing him. “You can startle me anytime you want. Whenever. Forever. I don’t mind. I don’t mind. I-” He bites his tongue. Presses his face into Jared’s chest. Stop. Talking.
There’s silence for a moment. “Okay,” Jared finally says. “I’m still sorry. The wind caught the door. I know you don’t like loud noises.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I don’t mind. I don’t -“
Jared’s lips are warm and soft, the kiss gentle. Jensen mumbles into his mouth a couple of more time but then Jared’s tongue is there, making it too difficult to speak and he forgets what he was saying.
If you were planning on leaving someone, would you be cruel enough to kiss them like that? Would you?
He just doesn’t know.
Continued here
Title: The Fear You Won’t Fall (A timestamp for The Puzzle (That is Me))
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Meaning, NOT true. All right? All right.
Once again I make no claims to actually knowing what I'm talking about when it comes to Asperger's. Research and advice from wiser people only gets me so far. This is fiction written by an outsider and so will never fit perfectly to whatever personal knowledge and/or experience any of you may have. Then again, doesn't that apply to everything?
Warning: This verse explores what Jensen might be like if he had Asperger’s syndrom. Just so you know. Also, this one gets pretty angsty. People with Asperger's tend to have very high levels of stress in their lives, just trying to juggle every day ordinary situations. Add upholding a romantic relationship to that and things are bound to get a bit tense.
Wordcount: 10.630 words
Rating: PG-13, I think
Summary:
Jensen looks so “normal,” and at the same time so Jensen it makes Jared’s heart stutter in his chest. He stands there, with his coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, and he thinks, This is my life now.
It’s a little overwhelming to tell the truth.
“I really do love you,” he says.
“I know,” Jensen answers absently as he fills in the last word. He sets the pen aside then folds the newspaper and places it at the corner of the table in perfect line with the edge before picking up the pen and putting it on top, right in the middle.
“We need to buy milk,” he says as he stands up, not giving Jared as much as a glance before heading upstairs.
Jared closes his eyes. Adapt and adjust. That’s all there is.
Author’s note: Written for matchboximpala for her generous bid at the help_queensland auction. It doesn’t quite follow the request (when does it ever?) but I hope it satisfies anyway. *hugs*
Takes place in the early months of the second season of SPN, about 8 months after Jensen and Jared get together. Read over by katy4650 who once again gave me invaluable insight and advice. Beta’d by candygramme. Thank you, girls!
Title from the song by Joshua Radin.
It’s dark by the time Jensen crawls out of the closet, joints creaking as he straightens up. His butt aches with the imprint of one of his dress shoes. There’s dust in his nostrils, in his hair. Dirt under his fingernails from the floorboards. The skin on his face feels stiff, tears turned to glue in their tracks. His eyelids are heavy with cooled down heat.
His head is finally quiet. No more ants crawling under his skin, trying to get out. His heart has stopped racing and slowed down to an easy jog.
He’s forgotten what made him lose control. Something Jared said? Something he did? It had seemed crucial at the time, but now he can’t even remember what it was. It’s all lost in the tycoon of anger and panic and not understanding.
He just remembers for one moment wishing he’d never laid eyes on Jared Tristan Padalecki, because Jared Tristan Padalecki is the only person in the whole world that can make Jensen feel like this. All this. Hatred for what he is, jealous of what he can’t be, angry at everything that doesn’t make sense. Afraid of what he does have, what he can lose.
So, so afraid.
He smoothes out the wrinkles in his clothes, runs a hand through his hair. Rubs at his face with his fingers to soften up the skin. Then steps hesitantly up to the door and twists the doorknob.
Sometimes Jared waits outside, back against the wall, long legs stretched across the hallway. Book in hand, a bottle of beer by his side. Face carefully void of all expressions as he stands up, trying to read Jensen’s mood. Then a hug or just a light kiss, Jared’s palm on Jensen’s face and a quiet “Hey,” and “Are you all right?” or just “I saved you some pizza.”
Jensen opens the door to reveal an empty hallway. Silent. Condemning. His stomach clenches. He steps out and walks through the too quiet house, nerves twitching with anxiety. Room after room after room.
He finds Jared asleep in their bed, arm slung over his eyes, mouth still set in a thin taut line.
Jensen stands still, watching. Hovering. Unsure. His eyes fall on the sliver of skin where Jared’s t-shirt has ridden up, showing a trail of downy hairs disappearing under the waistline of his jeans. Jensen purses his lips. Bites into the right corner of his lower lip and pulls on it with his teeth until it snaps free. Nods to himself. Then crawls into bed and starts working on Jared’s zipper.
Orgasms release the neurohormone oxytocin, which evokes feelings of contentment, reductions in anxiety, and feelings of calmness and security, as well as increasing empathy; all elements that will make Jared less inclined to hold on to his anger.
Plus, with his mouth full of cock Jensen is less likely to say something that might make the whole argument flare up again.
An hour later Jensen is lying half on top of Jared, fighting to catch his breath.
Despite Jensen’s concerns Jared had not woken up angry. Surprised, though, and a little confused judging by the repeated, “What? Jensen… What are you…?” before Jensen got his mouth on him. Then happy. And appreciative. As evident by the pleasant ache in Jensen’s anus. (‘Do you have to call it that?’ Jared had groaned one night, shortly after they got together. ‘It sounds so… awkward.’ Jensen doesn’t really understand why it’s awkward, but he’s tried to remember to use Jared’s words when he’s talking. Even if he finds the words ‘ass’ and ‘hole’ much more inappropriate, especially considering the number of times he’s been called an asshole for no apparent reason.)
Jared’s arm sneaks around Jensen, pulling him close. Jensen closes his eyes. His heavy breathing shifts into short, careful intakes as he tries his best to keep still. His body must release less oxytocin than a normal person’s when he has an orgasm; the feelings of calmness, security and contentment never hold on for long enough to help him through this part:
Jared likes to cuddle. Jared thinks cuddling is just as important as sex. Sometimes Jared even prefers cuddling to sex. Jensen thinks cuddling is more like strangulation. But he loves Jared so he tries, he really does. He’s getting better at post-coital cuddling. He’s up to forty seconds now, aiming for a minute.
Fifty-two seconds later he jerks away and rolls out of bed. As he heads to the bathroom to clean up and brush his teeth he hears Jared sigh behind him, and the sound makes him falter in his steps.
He is trying. He’s making the best effort he can. Jared just doesn’t understand how it feels. How someone’s touch can one minute be comforting and the next feel like a thousand hands all over his skin, greedy, grabbing, pulling him under. Suffocating him. There’s only so much he can take of it.
When he gets back Jared has pulled the covers up to his chest, his eyes are closed, and his t-shirt lies sticky and discarded on the floor.
Jensen picks it up and takes it into the bathroom, puts it in the hamper. Mutters, “Brush your teeth,” quietly under his breath to keep from saying it out loud. Jared is a grown man; if he wants his teeth to rot because he’s too lazy after sex to get up and brush them, that’s his prerogative. Or so Jared says. Even if it’s Jensen that has to tolerate his breath in the morning.
Jensen slips under the covers, lies on his back, closes his eyes. Counts the seconds until he can say goodnight without sounding dismissive. (More than fifteen but less than sixty-five, or Jared will think something is wrong.) He’s always found the practice rather pointless. If he wished Jared would have a bad night, then maybe it would be worth mentioning, but Jared has no reason to think Jensen’s changed his mind from the night before. Or the night before that. It’s ridiculous how much time people waste on repeating things they already know.
Just as he deems it safe to let the words out he hears Jared turn his head on the pillow beside him then feels him shift, the bed dipping from the weight. Moments later there are fingers at Jensen’s brow, slipping through the drops of sweat still clinging to his temple. His eyebrow twitches, but he manages to keep still and not jerk away from the unexpected touch. It’s his own fault. If he’d kept his eyes open he would have seen it coming.
“I do love you,” Jared says quietly.
Jensen hums in agreement. He knows. Jared keeps telling him, all the time. Jensen isn’t sure why. It’s not like he’s forgotten.
The hand finally moves away, but only to come rest upon Jensen’s chest instead.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Jared pauses. Jensen can hear him nibble at his lips. “I didn’t mean to… do… whatever I did. I’m sorry.”
Jensen sucks in his breath then lets it out slowly. So it wasn’t his fault. Whatever it was.
“Okay,” he says, relieved.
“Okay?” Jared repeats.
“Yeah.”
Jared breathes out. His hand is heavy on Jensen’s chest. “Okay.” He kisses Jensen’s temple. “You are kind of amazing, you know that?”
Jensen blinks his eyes open, glancing warily up at Jared. “We’ve had sex before,” he points out, not sure where this is going. His head is still a little groggy from the orgasms. “Many times.”
Jared laughs softly. “I wasn’t talking about the sex. I just meant… you. I think you’re amazing.”
Jensen doesn’t really understand what’s so amazing about being a neurotic anti-social weirdo but arguing after sex seems counterproductive, so he lets it go.
“Okay.” He yawns. “Goodnight.”
Jared’s hand lingers on Jensen’s chest before finally pulling away. “Sleep tight,” he says.
Jensen hums again. He’s halfway there already.
-------
Jared blinks owlishly up at the ceiling, at the bright light streaming through the curtains, then yawns and rubs a hand over his face. He still has the taste of Jensen in his mouth, a taste gone sour with sleep, but somehow recognizable just the same. It’s oddly comforting. He reaches for his watch where it lies on the bedside table, checks the time. Ten o’clock. Huh. No wonder he’s feeling disoriented.
Sleeping in on his days off became a thing of the past when he moved out of his parents’ home and got dogs of his own. It’s nothing he’s ever minded, preferred it even, but he has to admit it’s nice being allowed a few more hours of sleep every now and then. One of the many perks of living with someone who gets up early every morning anyway: they don’t mind letting your dogs out into the backyard if you’re too lazy to get out of bed.
Jared looks over at the empty space beside him. On the other hand it would be even nicer if he could share those few hours with Jensen snuggled up to him.
He understands it, he does. Totally respects Jensen’s need to keep to his schedule no matter what. But he can’t help feeling a little disappointed sometimes that they can’t spend their Sunday mornings like any other couple. Sleep late, laze around in bed, make love…
He swallows those thoughts down, before they turn destructive. He knew what he was signing up for when they started this. It’s just a matter of adjusting, the way all couples have to adjust to each other’s quirks and habits. He’s sure Jensen struggles with a lot of his habits and considering how much harder it is for Jensen to adapt to change than it is for Jared, he doesn’t really feel like he has any right to complain. And he’s not. It’s just… different. That’s all.
He gets up and brushes his teeth then takes a quick shower before getting dressed and heading downstairs. Jensen is sitting in his usual place by the kitchen table; glasses perched on his nose, half a cup of coffee cooling by his side as he works his way methodically through the Sunday crosswords. Down first, from left to right; then across, top to bottom.
“Morning,” Jared says as he comes up behind Jensen and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. Jensen smells of shampoo, and soap and a hint of shaving cream. His cheek is smooth as a baby’s bottom, weekends being the only times he’s allowed to shave Dean’s stubble off.
Jared’s own cheeks are rough, enjoying the temporary freedom from upholding Sam’s youthful appearance. He likes that they alternate their looks like that, from Dean and Sam to Jensen and Jared. It helps keeping their real and fictional lives separate.
Jensen hums in reply, his focus on the word puzzle in front of him. Jared skims through the clues but he knows better now than to try and suggest solutions. Instead he pours himself a cup of coffee and tops up Jensen’s without asking. Judging by the fast pace of Jensen’s pen tapping against the newspaper he’s on his second or even third cup already, but Jensen insists he needs caffeine to think. As soon as Jared’s had his breakfast they’ll be heading out for a few hours anyway. That should sober him up some.
As Jared moves around the kitchen - making toast, pouring himself orange juice, slicing an apple - he keeps glancing over at Jensen, watching him work.
Jensen’s expression is mostly vacant although every now and then there will be a small twitch, at his eyebrow, his nose, his lips… before his face smoothes out again, and he fills in each box with the right letter. His hair is meticulously groomed, split in the side and combed down. Jared prefers it Dean style but apparently this is the way Jensen’s mother taught him to comb his hair before going to church, and he’s having a hard time letting go of it despite having given up Sunday services years ago. He’s wearing his usual Sunday clothes: soft-worn jeans, and the blue t-shirt that says “I’m not anti-social, I’m just not user friendly” that his sister gave him last Christmas. It always makes Jared smile, if a little bittersweet.
Jensen looks so “normal,” and at the same time so Jensen it makes Jared’s heart stutter in his chest. He stands there, with his coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, and he thinks, This is my life now.
It’s a little overwhelming to tell the truth.
“I really do love you,” he says.
“I know,” Jensen answers absently as he fills in the last word. He sets the pen aside then folds the newspaper and places it at the corner of the table in perfect line with the edge before picking up the pen and putting it on top, right in the middle.
“We need to buy milk,” he says as he stands up, not giving Jared as much as a glance before heading upstairs.
Jared closes his eyes. Adapt and adjust. That’s all there is.
-------
“Ridiculous,” Jensen says, clicking his teeth in irritation. “Give me the phone, I need to call Sera.”
“You’re not calling Sera at nine o’clock on a Sunday night to bitch about the script,” Jared tells him. He sounds amused. “What’s so ridiculous anyway?” he adds as he moves to peer over Jensen’s shoulder, breath warm on his neck.
Jensen’s jaw ticks, but he manages to resist shrugging Jared off. For now.
“The car!” he says, focusing his irritation on that instead. “It was crushed by a fucking semi, and they think Dean can rebuild it in a month? All by himself? It’s idiotic. Completely unpractical. Phone. Give me the phone.”
“No,” Jared says firmly. “Jensen, c’mon, it’s fiction. Let it go.”
Jensen starts to argue, but Jared just kisses him on the cheek then nuzzles into his neck. His stubble scratches Jensen’s skin. Jensen tries not to let it bother him that Jared never shaves on their days off, but he can’t help feeling annoyed. A man should either have a beard or not.
Unless, apparently, he’s Dean Winchester, and his creator thinks a permanent five o’clock shadow makes him look tougher. (Five o’clock isn’t permanent! And even if it was, (It isn’t and can never be.) hair doesn’t stop growing. There’s ignorant, and then there’s just plain stupid. Clearly this falls in the second category, but no matter how he tried to explain it to them they wouldn’t change their mind.)
Not shaving doesn’t make Jared look tougher; it just makes him look lazy.
“You’re cute when you get all worked up over technical details,” Jared says, totally misreading Jensen’s expression.
“I’m not cute, I’m good looking,” Jensen rectifies. “Phone.”
“How about I give you a blowjob instead?”
Jensen looks up with a frown. “How will that fix the script?”
A strange look passes over Jared’s face, but then he smiles. “I was more thinking it might distract you enough to forget about the script.”
“Your blowjobs aren’t actually mindblowing, Jared,” Jensen points out. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
Jared blinks. He takes a deep breath and smiles. “Okay then,” he says and walks out.
It takes Jensen ten minutes to realize Jared isn’t fetching the phone. An additional five to figure out it probably has something to do with what they were talking about. But no matter how he racks his brain he can’t figure out what he said wrong.
Jensen puts down the script, now covered in the usual red scribbles, and goes looking for his illogical boyfriend.
“Jared?”
He’s not in the kitchen, not in the bathroom.
Jensen frowns. The house is silent. Jared wouldn’t have gone to sleep already, would he? That’s hardly practical.
He heads upstairs, passing Sadie on the landing. She looks up at him with sleepy eyes before laying her head back down on her paws with a sigh. There’s a small crack on the door to Jared’s old bedroom, the one he slept in before they started sleeping together. Jensen can hear the soft murmur of Jared’s voice from within, and he’s about to walk in and ask if Jared is talking to Sera about the script when he hears his name mentioned.
“I knew it wouldn’t be easy but… I was worried about the big things, you know. Like the tantrums, and the meltdowns, and the way he gets really stressed about stuff. And okay, yeah, how to ease up on the metaphors, because apparently I say a lot of stupid things that don’t make sense.”
He laughs but it’s not his happy laugh. This one sounds like he wants to, ‘Just get out of here. Jensen, you mind? Now.’ (Two months ago. A bar. Some guys kept whistling, laughing. Calling them boyfriends. Which they are, so Jensen didn’t quite get why Jared got so upset. They hardly made it through the door at home, before Jared had Jensen up against the wall, kissing him. They’d fucked right there in the hallway, and Jensen forgot about the whole bar incident. Until now.)
“I just never thought of how it would affect me. How I’d feel, you know. I just don’t know how to deal with...” Jared sighs loudly. “He never says anything. I know he cares about me, he practically told me he was in love with me when we first got together but… That was eight months ago! What if he’s changed his mind? No, I don’t think he’s changed his mind, I’m just saying, if he had, would he even tell me?” He sighs again. “Shit, Sandy. I’m so gone… it would fucking kill me.”
Jared goes quiet, the only sound detectable that of his labored breathing and the murmur of a female voice on the other end of the line.
Jensen stands in the hallway, eyes blinking rapidly. His teeth dig into his lower lip. He takes a step back, then forward, then turns around and heads first for the master bedroom then changes his mind and hurries back downstairs. Sadie watches him go, one eyebrow quirked, before getting slowly to her feet and padding after him through the house and out into the backyard.
Jensen sits down on the porch. His heart is going so fast he feels dizzy.
Jared is going away. Leaving. Jared is leaving him.
He has no idea what to do. How to make Jared happy. How to make him not leave.
Sadie lays her head in his lap, gazing up at him with soulful eyes. Jensen scratches her absently behind the ears, and she lets out a low happy noise.
“I don’t want him to leave,” he tells her. She licks his hand. “I just don’t want him to leave me.”
His chest really, really hurts.
“Jesus, Jen. How long have you been sitting here?” Jared asks, sounding concerned. He sits down beside Jensen on the porch and wraps his long arms around him, pulling him tight. “Shit, you’re freezing.”
Jensen forces himself to relax despite his heart racing like a runaway train. Jared likes hugs. Jensen mentally puts hugs on the top of the list of things he can do to keep Jared happy.
“Hey,” Jared says, nudging Jensen’s cheek with his nose. “Everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jensen answers; because 1) saying yes would be lying, and 2) he wants to know what Jared thinks is wrong. With him. With them. Why are you leaving? What did I do? Tell me how to fix it.
“No reason, you’re just quiet.”
“I never say anything,” Jensen echoes although he doesn’t quite get it. If anything he thought he talked too much.
Jared pulls back and looks at him. He’s smiling, like this whole thing is funny. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s one other thing Jensen just doesn’t get.
“You talked my ear off for almost an hour this morning about why we actually should forget the Alamo.”
Okay, now he feels even more confused. Maybe Jared meant he only talks about things no one wants to hear about? That he never says anything important, anything interesting? Was that what he meant?
“I’m sorry. I’ve told you, you need to shut me up. I’ll talk, I’ll talk, and I’ll talk if you don’t shut me up. Why didn’t you just shut me the fuck up!?!”
Jared’s smile falters. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I like it when you talk my ear off.”
Jensen closes his eyes. He is so close to the edge. He wants to scream, and yell and throw things, until the chaos in his head calms down, and he can think clearly again. But he did that yesterday, for some reason he still can’t remember, and now Jared is leaving.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not good. I’m not good right now. ”
“It’s okay,” Jared says. He pulls completely away, shifting until there are a few inches between them. “Better?”
Jensen carefully opens his eyes. Nods. “Sorry. Too many thoughts in my head. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jared repeats. He’s looking increasingly worried. “Stop apologizing. Anything I can do to help?”
Yes, Jensen thinks. Promise me you won’t leave.
He shakes his head. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” That’s not why I need you, he means but he can’t explain what exactly it is he needs from Jared. There’s so much. Love, sex, friendship, everything. To not leave. To just be here, always.
Jared looks at him. “I like taking care of you.” There’s a frown between his eyebrows, and his lips are slightly downturned. His voice is very quiet. That means he’s feeling hurt. Which means Jensen got it wrong. Again.
“Sorry,” he says. Everything is so confusing. Why are people so damn confusing? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t…” Jared stops and sighs. “Never mind. How about we go inside? You’re not even wearing a sweater.”
Jensen jumps obediently to his feet and goes back into the house. It takes Sadie whining pitifully for him to look back and realize Jared is still outside, watching him through the glass door. There’s a moment of silence, and then Jared opens the door and steps through. He looks… Amused? Tired? Irritated? Jensen just can’t tell.
“Next time, don’t close the door in my face, all right?” Jared says and offers him a small strained smile.
Oh. “I didn’t mean to.” His skin itches. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” Fuck.
He slams the heel of his hand into his temple, before things get completely out of hand. It hurts a little, and it always makes people flinch when he does this but at least it shuts him up. He gets in two hits before Jared takes him by the wrist and pulls his hand away then kisses his temple.
“Don’t. It’s okay.” He kisses Jensen again, on the lips this time, light and warm. “Don’t worry about it. Just… go put a sweater on. You’re shivering.”
Jensen puts on a sweater. He sits down on the couch, moving closer when Jared asks him to. Mirrors Jared’s smile, kisses back when Jared kisses him. Searches his brain for something to say. Something important. Can’t find anything. Stares at the TV instead.
There’s a documentary about sharks on Discovery Channel. There have been programs about sharks on Discovery Channel for three days now. Jensen lost interest after the first two hours, but he still watches whenever Jared turns on the TV, because Jared loves sharks, and Jensen would rather be bored with Jared than watch interesting things without him.
Jared’s fingers are absently stroking Jensen’s neck. After a while Sadie shuffles over and lays her head on Jared’s knee. Jared starts scratching her behind the ears with his free hand, in the exact same rhythm as he’s stroking Jensen.
Sadie looks up and meets Jensen’s eyes.
Jensen shifts, uncomfortable. She’s wrong. He’s not like her. He’s not Jared’s dog, constantly seeking his master’s approval. Whatever the present situation might imply.
-------
When Jensen needs answers he doesn’t usually bother with people. Instead he turns to books.
He has pretty much every book there is about Asperger’s syndrome, most of them by courtesy of his mother. Some of them he knows by heart, others he has barely cracked the spine of.
After he started working with Jared his mother started sending him books about romance and relationships even if all he’d told her about Jared was that he was tall, nice, and very confusing. Seems she’d figured out before he did that for once his confusion had very little to do with his head and everything to do with his heart.
He’d skimmed through those books, but pretty much all of them are directed at NTs, like they are the only ones seeking answers when it comes to Aspie/NT relationships. After flipping through chapter upon chapter about all the problems his behavior could cause in a relationship, and how the poor NTs should go about coping with someone so difficult, he got too frustrated to continue and banished the books to their place on the shelf.
He’s perfectly aware of what he is, that is not the issue. But being an Aspie doesn’t define who he is, no more than being gay does, or being an actor, or Texan, or tall or handsome. He’s not a product of these things and these things alone. He has his own traits, and habits and feelings just like everyone. Just like “normal” people. Above all he is himself, Jensen. So as helpful as many of the books his mother has bought for him are, they also piss him off. A lot. All those general assumptions, like he’s a breed to be characterized, by professionals that in fact have no idea what it’s like inside his head. He wants to write the authors of those books long letters, telling them in so many words about all the ways that they are wrong. The only books he feels get it at least half-way right are the ones written by people who are like him.
But if Jensen wants to keep Jared from leaving he needs to find out what it is normal people, people like Jared, expect from a relationship. Then try to figure out how he can live up to those expectations. He’s a great actor, he should be able to play the role of a perfect boyfriend.
Of course there is no script, no outlined plot, everything is bluescreen, and he’s playing against someone who insists on improvising Every. Single. Fucking. Line.
Jensen sucks in his breath. Lets it out slowly. Cool it. No more panicking. He can do this.
He pulls out the books that focus on relationships and takes them to the kitchen table. Gets a ruler, a notebook, a pencil and a highlighter. And a very large cup of coffee. Jared won’t be home for at least two more hours. That should be enough time.
One hour and fifty-five minutes later he returns the books to their place on the shelf, his hands shaking with anxiety. The notes he made have been memorized, then shredded and hidden under an empty milk carton in the trash. Not that they’ll do much good.
He was wrong. He can’t do this.
He hadn’t realized normal people were so needy. And petty, and childish and just plain ridiculous. And they say he’s difficult! It’s a wonder NTs get married at all. How can anyone live up to all those expectations?
Just thinking about all the things he’s been doing wrong these last eight months has his heart racing in panic.
It all makes sense now. Of course Jared is leaving. The only real mystery is why he hasn’t left sooner. Out of pity, most likely. That’s the reason people usually interact with Jensen. That and curiosity. Always trying to figure out how that weird little brain of his works.
Plus Jared gets sex, of course. At least that’s one area where Jensen is doing all right. He thinks. Jared hasn’t complained. Not that the books actually get into the praxis of NT/Aspie sex. Mostly they just talk about how important sex is to a successful relationship. Apparently many Aspies have little interest in sex. They find it uncomfortable, overwhelming. Sensory overload to the point of painful. Guess he should be thankful he doesn’t have that problem on top of everything else.
Jensen likes sex. He’s always liked sex. First he liked it just as means of relaxation, but then he got curious and read up on all the different kinds of sexual acts you could perform, especially if you had a partner. Or several.
(He’s never gone for several; honestly, it’s complicated enough picking up one partner. Of course having a boyfriend means if he wanted to try it, at least this time he’d be one step ahead. But he doesn’t want to add to what he already has. He just wants Jared. He just wants to keep Jared.)
His first adventures into the world of dating had been disastrous. He’d sat there in the principal’s office with his parents on each side looking pale and harried as they tried to explain to him that there were some things you just didn’t do. Especially when you were only fifteen. Jensen still isn’t sure if they were more distraught by the fact that he’d been trying to hit on his math teacher, or that said teacher was male.
“Son, there are so many nice girls in your class,” his father had said, his lips thin and his jaw tight, the way he looked when he found Jensen especially difficult. “Don’t you like them?”
Jensen had nodded. “I like them,” he’d said and his father had breathed out in relief, but it was short-lived as Jensen continued, “But I don’t want to have sex with them. Breasts don’t interest me. I like muscles. And penises.”
“You’re only fifteen! You can’t possibly know…”
“Alan, he’s gay,” his mother had sighed. “Let it be.”
She’d laid a palm on Jensen’s cheek, smiling a little when Jensen leaned automatically into the touch. His mother’s hands had always been a source of comfort to him. So soft and warm.
“It’s okay, honey. We’d kinda figured. Just didn’t expect it to come up so soon, I guess. But now it has…” Her face turned serious and she pulled back and straightened up. “We’ll talk about the rules when we get home.”
The rules turned out to be both frustrating and irrational.
No sex before he was eighteen even though he had a perfectly functioning penis already and had been practicing self-gratification for the last three years.
“That’s the law,” his dad had said firmly. “You don’t break the law, Jensen.” Then why had Josh been having sex with his girlfriends at sixteen? “That’s different. Still illegal,” his father grudgingly admitted, “but different.”
Actually, a lot about dating boys was ‘different’. Apparently his sexuality was ‘private’ and ‘not to be flaunted’. Which meant no kissing, or holding hands in public or telling strangers he liked boys.
“Not everyone is tolerant of such things,” his mother had told him, looking very serious. “Some people… they can turn mean and hateful. Even violent. So don’t tell anyone, unless you’re absolutely sure they are real friends. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jensen?”
Jensen had nodded. He knew by then that not everyone who talked to him was a real friend. Some just pretended to be and then said bad things or even laughed at him as soon as he turned his back.
His dad had suddenly stood up and walked to the window to stare out into the dark. “You really didn’t get the easiest lot in life, did you, son?” he’d said after a while, and when he’d looked back he’d been smiling that little smile of his that really meant he was sad but didn’t want Jensen to know.
Jensen had just shrugged and smiled back, although he hadn’t really understood what his dad meant. The easiest lot of what?
He’d lost interest in sex after that, since he had to wait three years anyway. Wasn’t really until he got into acting in his senior year in high school that he’d approached the subject again, this time with considerable more success.
Apparently pretending to be someone else made him a lot more attractive in the eyes of others than just being himself did.
He’d turned eighteen that spring, and within a month he’d lost his virginity in most ways possible. He got jerked off in the dressing room, blown in the small bathroom next to it. Fumbled his way through the actual sex act in the upstairs bedroom of the assistant director while the rest of the cast celebrated the premiere in the living room below.
It hadn’t hurt as much as he’d expected, hadn’t really done much of anything. Later he’d learned to appreciate the benefit of starting with someone so ungenerously endowed, but it didn’t take long before he went looking for something more substantial. He found it in the pants of his old ninth grade math teacher, whose moral objections had apparently worn off the moment Jensen graduated to high school. Turns out size really does matter. A lot. No wonder he likes sex with Jared so much.
He doesn’t know why he’s had an easier time acquiring sexual partners than most Aspies. Well, he is a good actor, there is that. There are plenty of womanizing characters in both movies and on TV whose tactics he’s been able to memorize and then utilize in picking up men. It’s quite possible though that being gay has even more to do with it. Apparently girls are a lot more complex than guys when it comes to sex. As in usually not wanting to have any, unless there’s an emotional connection, preferably romantic, with promises of commitment, established after an appropriate period of dating that serves to calculate the couple’s comparability. Talk about complicated!
Guys, as a rule, were easy once Jensen had fine-tuned his gaydar. Jensen’s pretty face and an open invitation was all they needed to be up and ready. Romance didn’t really figure into the equation, something Jensen was grateful for. Social interaction was complicated enough as it was. For the longest time he’d thought maybe he wasn’t even capable of feeling romantic love. Physically attracted to someone, yes. Intellectually interested in a person, yes. Caring for someone and wishing for their approval (although that mostly applied to his family), yes. A combination of all three towards one single person? No, not really.
Until Jared. Meeting Jared meant suddenly understanding, to a degree at least, what all those irrational love songs were about. The ones about the heart expanding and feeling like you’re flying, of butterflies in the stomach and seeing only one person in a sea of millions. All those physically impossible things he thought people were making up, suddenly applied to him.
It was a revelation. He was capable of love after all. He was in love. He loved Jared.
Like then it fills him as much with dread as it does with happiness. Because not only does he believe Jared is the only person he will ever love, he’s certain Jared is the only person that will ever love him. Which means losing Jared will leave Jensen alone for the rest of his life.
Before he met Jared he’d pretty much expected that to be his future. Had accepted it even, if rather reluctantly. But now… Being alone, being without Jared? The thought is terrifying!
The front door slams shut, making him jerk out of his thoughts so violently he swings around, heart caught in his throat.
“Shit, sorry,” Jared calls out from the hallway. “Jensen, you home?”
Jensen thinks about not answering. About slipping out into the backyard and waiting there until it gets too dark for Jared to find him. He quickly wipes at his eyes but they’re dry even if they sting. There’s a headache pounding at his temple. Maybe if he’s quick enough he can go hide in the closet again before Jared -
“There you are.”
Jared is smiling but something in Jensen’s expression must alert him, because he stops a couple of feet away instead of pulling Jensen in for the usual hug and kiss. “Hey. Everything all right?”
Jensen wavers. He has a feeling that if he starts talking he’ll say too much, and that’s never good.
“Yes,” he lies then smiles and adds, “I’m glad you’re home.” There. Stating the obvious. NTs like that.
Jared looks at him a little strangely. “Well, I’m happy to be home,” he says. “You sure you’re all right?”
Jensen searches his mind for how to respond since a simple yes obviously doesn’t do.
“You startled me,” he finally says because that’s true. “I was lost in thought.” Also true. “Nothing important.” Not true but as long as he keeps the same tone of voice Jared won’t know the difference.
Sure enough Jared smiles and pulls Jensen in for a kiss. “Sorry for startling you.”
“It’s okay.” Jensen swallows the lump in his throat. His eyes sting again so he hides his face in Jared’s shirt, clutching it in his fists to keep Jared from pulling back and seeing him. “You can startle me anytime you want. Whenever. Forever. I don’t mind. I don’t mind. I-” He bites his tongue. Presses his face into Jared’s chest. Stop. Talking.
There’s silence for a moment. “Okay,” Jared finally says. “I’m still sorry. The wind caught the door. I know you don’t like loud noises.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I don’t mind. I don’t -“
Jared’s lips are warm and soft, the kiss gentle. Jensen mumbles into his mouth a couple of more time but then Jared’s tongue is there, making it too difficult to speak and he forgets what he was saying.
If you were planning on leaving someone, would you be cruel enough to kiss them like that? Would you?
He just doesn’t know.
Continued here