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Bring On the Years | Jensen/Cougar
title. Bring On the Years
fandom. The Losers
pairing. Jensen/Cougar
wordcount. 1,184
summary. They'd been together for six months now.
Six months. Not that Jensen had been counting, or anything, but counting came easy to him and there were a lot of clocks, ticking away in his head, so it wasn't just this one thing. This was just the most important one.
He'd never had a relationship that could be counted in months. Believe it or not, he wasn't exactly as great with people as he pretended some - most - all of the time, and the last time he'd managed to trap down a partner for longer than a week (some girl, in high school - he couldn't remember her name anymore), he'd fucked it up royally within a day of that happy number. So he wasn't, you know, good at this.
But for some reason, Cougar hadn't left yet.
When they'd hit the one-month mark, Jensen thought that it was because Cougar didn't know any better and had never had a boyfriend and didn't know that Jensen was inadequate. Days later, he'd mentioned, off-handedly, about some girl he used to date and something else, but Jensen stopped listening then. Some girl. So, okay, he wasn't just an anomaly, right. Okay. He could do this.
At two months, he thought that Cougar was just, like, an emotional masochist or something. But that wasn't right either.
At three months, he tried suddenly and resolutely ignoring him, to see if that would convince him that Jensen was bad news. That didn't work. Twelve hours later and Jensen was crawling back into Cougar's lap, apologizing, babbling his head off because he could apparently only take so much self-imposed silence. Cougar simply put his arms around him and tucked his face in the crook of Jensen's neck they way he liked to do.
"How'd you know I'd be back?" Jensen asked.
Cougar shrugged. "I know you."
When they hit four months, they were on a mission, and kind of busy. That was when Jensen got the idea that Cougar only stayed with him because it would be a detriment to the team if they broke up; he tried to request a transfer, but the Colonel just laughed in his face. When Cougar found out, he'd gone kind of white, and he only had two words to say - "Don't. Leave." So that answered that question.
At five months, Jensen tried, really hard, to remember why he was such a bad boyfriend in the first place.
Well, he was... selfish. Demanding. An attention whore. Mercurial. Defensive. Needy. He talked too much.
"Why do you like me?" he asked Cougar.
The man had just rolled his eyes.
And now, here they were. Six. There was something special about six months, something finite. It was half a year. It was the end of the grace period for ignoring your friends, or whatever. It meant something.
Jensen was out of ideas. He didn't understand this relationship, he didn't understand how it was still going and how Cougar, the best person in the goddamn world, hadn't gotten completely sick of him by now. He didn't bring it up this time, not overtly, but all day he was fidgety and nervous and alternately clinging like a limpet and keeping as much distance between them as possible. And for once, for the first time in six whole months, Cougar seemed actually bothered by it.
He cornered Jensen in storage, right between crates of missiles and crates of land mines. Jensen - clearly on the 'distance' end of the spectrum at that time - jumped when he finally heard Cougar's footsteps, which meant that he was already in his personal space. He tried to shift and get around him and run, but he couldn't, he was boxed in and there was nowhere else to go.
"Jensen," Cougar said.
He had his utmost attention.
"If you're so convinced I don't want to be with you," and Jensen felt his heart twist sickly, but it wasn't like it wasn't obvious, that once a month like clockwork he would suddenly realize what day it was and have a bizarre attack of insecurity. It was easy to realize that they were all connected. "Then why don't you break up with me yourself?"
Jensen's jaw dropped open.
He saw the best of Cougar, and the most of him. That much was irrefutable. Jensen had learned how to read him, how to understand what he said with his eyes and his body language and he could know what he was thinking with just one twitch of his mouth, sometimes. But now he realized, and suddenly, that he only achieved such levels of communicative ease because Cougar let him, because he let Jensen in. He could still close him out. He could be that perfect, silent, empty image that Jensen had once known. He couldn't read him one bit.
And then, before he had a change to think twice, the words came, as free and untamed as they always were.
"...I don't want to," he said quietly.
Cougar's face didn't move. He tried again, but even here, now, he couldn't actually lie to him.
"I don't want to leave you. I want to stay. I always want you, I always want to be with you, I want all of you and everything and I can't leave. Of course I can't leave." Shit, his eyes were tearing up and Cougar still looked like a block of marble. "I love you. Always. I couldn't even walk away if I tried."
With each word, Cougar seemed to break a little more; with each word, he seemed more and more human. Then he stepped forward, shrank the space between them until his hands were gripping, winding in Jensen's clothes and dragging him in. His face bypassed Jensen's; he pressed his nose to the shell of his ear and sighed, quietly.
"Then you understand," he murmured, "why I won't leave, either."
And in that moment, Jensen really understood, for the first time, what it meant to love someone and be loved in return. It wasn't about why they shouldn't be together. There were plenty of reasons. There would always be reasons. But it wasn't about that.
It was about why they couldn't leave. It was about what they wanted, what they needed. It was about all the good things in Cougar that Jensen couldn't stop thinking about; it was about the good things in Jensen that he routinely forgot about, because he was so fixated on the bad. And it was about how none of that mattered, anyway.
So they'd been together for six months.
So what?
Six months is nothing, he thought. I'm done with months. I'm ready to start counting years.
fandom. The Losers
pairing. Jensen/Cougar
wordcount. 1,184
summary. They'd been together for six months now.
Six months. Not that Jensen had been counting, or anything, but counting came easy to him and there were a lot of clocks, ticking away in his head, so it wasn't just this one thing. This was just the most important one.
He'd never had a relationship that could be counted in months. Believe it or not, he wasn't exactly as great with people as he pretended some - most - all of the time, and the last time he'd managed to trap down a partner for longer than a week (some girl, in high school - he couldn't remember her name anymore), he'd fucked it up royally within a day of that happy number. So he wasn't, you know, good at this.
But for some reason, Cougar hadn't left yet.
When they'd hit the one-month mark, Jensen thought that it was because Cougar didn't know any better and had never had a boyfriend and didn't know that Jensen was inadequate. Days later, he'd mentioned, off-handedly, about some girl he used to date and something else, but Jensen stopped listening then. Some girl. So, okay, he wasn't just an anomaly, right. Okay. He could do this.
At two months, he thought that Cougar was just, like, an emotional masochist or something. But that wasn't right either.
At three months, he tried suddenly and resolutely ignoring him, to see if that would convince him that Jensen was bad news. That didn't work. Twelve hours later and Jensen was crawling back into Cougar's lap, apologizing, babbling his head off because he could apparently only take so much self-imposed silence. Cougar simply put his arms around him and tucked his face in the crook of Jensen's neck they way he liked to do.
"How'd you know I'd be back?" Jensen asked.
Cougar shrugged. "I know you."
When they hit four months, they were on a mission, and kind of busy. That was when Jensen got the idea that Cougar only stayed with him because it would be a detriment to the team if they broke up; he tried to request a transfer, but the Colonel just laughed in his face. When Cougar found out, he'd gone kind of white, and he only had two words to say - "Don't. Leave." So that answered that question.
At five months, Jensen tried, really hard, to remember why he was such a bad boyfriend in the first place.
Well, he was... selfish. Demanding. An attention whore. Mercurial. Defensive. Needy. He talked too much.
"Why do you like me?" he asked Cougar.
The man had just rolled his eyes.
And now, here they were. Six. There was something special about six months, something finite. It was half a year. It was the end of the grace period for ignoring your friends, or whatever. It meant something.
Jensen was out of ideas. He didn't understand this relationship, he didn't understand how it was still going and how Cougar, the best person in the goddamn world, hadn't gotten completely sick of him by now. He didn't bring it up this time, not overtly, but all day he was fidgety and nervous and alternately clinging like a limpet and keeping as much distance between them as possible. And for once, for the first time in six whole months, Cougar seemed actually bothered by it.
He cornered Jensen in storage, right between crates of missiles and crates of land mines. Jensen - clearly on the 'distance' end of the spectrum at that time - jumped when he finally heard Cougar's footsteps, which meant that he was already in his personal space. He tried to shift and get around him and run, but he couldn't, he was boxed in and there was nowhere else to go.
"Jensen," Cougar said.
He had his utmost attention.
"If you're so convinced I don't want to be with you," and Jensen felt his heart twist sickly, but it wasn't like it wasn't obvious, that once a month like clockwork he would suddenly realize what day it was and have a bizarre attack of insecurity. It was easy to realize that they were all connected. "Then why don't you break up with me yourself?"
Jensen's jaw dropped open.
He saw the best of Cougar, and the most of him. That much was irrefutable. Jensen had learned how to read him, how to understand what he said with his eyes and his body language and he could know what he was thinking with just one twitch of his mouth, sometimes. But now he realized, and suddenly, that he only achieved such levels of communicative ease because Cougar let him, because he let Jensen in. He could still close him out. He could be that perfect, silent, empty image that Jensen had once known. He couldn't read him one bit.
And then, before he had a change to think twice, the words came, as free and untamed as they always were.
"...I don't want to," he said quietly.
Cougar's face didn't move. He tried again, but even here, now, he couldn't actually lie to him.
"I don't want to leave you. I want to stay. I always want you, I always want to be with you, I want all of you and everything and I can't leave. Of course I can't leave." Shit, his eyes were tearing up and Cougar still looked like a block of marble. "I love you. Always. I couldn't even walk away if I tried."
With each word, Cougar seemed to break a little more; with each word, he seemed more and more human. Then he stepped forward, shrank the space between them until his hands were gripping, winding in Jensen's clothes and dragging him in. His face bypassed Jensen's; he pressed his nose to the shell of his ear and sighed, quietly.
"Then you understand," he murmured, "why I won't leave, either."
And in that moment, Jensen really understood, for the first time, what it meant to love someone and be loved in return. It wasn't about why they shouldn't be together. There were plenty of reasons. There would always be reasons. But it wasn't about that.
It was about why they couldn't leave. It was about what they wanted, what they needed. It was about all the good things in Cougar that Jensen couldn't stop thinking about; it was about the good things in Jensen that he routinely forgot about, because he was so fixated on the bad. And it was about how none of that mattered, anyway.
So they'd been together for six months.
So what?
Six months is nothing, he thought. I'm done with months. I'm ready to start counting years.