Sam isn't alone in that: Rhys still has nights when he steps outside to just smoke and stare at the sky, trying to process the enormity of the whole thing. A home, a career, friends, a life, it's absolutely unreal for the young man who got so used to the idea that anything he wanted, he would just lose somehow- either taken away, or simply left behind when it was time to go again. Just like Sam, his entire existence seemed summed up as "just passing through".
But those nights when Sam's finally dozing off, the big man's head tucked in his lap and his breathing finally gone slow and heavy with sleep, it's all worth it. Rhys never thought he could be this happy, and that he can finally let himself.
Sam's big, warm hands through his hair draw a low sigh of pleasure from him, and he can't help but tilt his head in like a cat responding to petting. At first, he hadn't been sure how much touch Sam would want, how much contact he'd be comfortable with, but that worry was erased quickly- pretty much the moment Sam threw himself into Rhys's arms. They both thrive on it, especially in their fragile states, and being able to just sink into it completely, to reach out and find the other there without having to hold back, that's something else that's just amazing. Even if they're still waiting to go further, it's a blessing and feels more like home than all the best houses in the world could.
"Mmm. Hell. Let 'em grow a little more and we'll train them. Attack hedges." Rhys grins up at Sam without lifting his head. Okay, he has some novel ideas of security, but he also has iron nails driven into the doorframe, salt on the windowsills, and hex bags and herbs hung over every entrance. Plus, thorns tattooed over about thirty percent of his body, give or take. Who knows if he's kidding or not?
It's home. He's finally home and every morning Sam takes a long moment to remind himself of that as he curls his arms around Rhys in bed. Their bed. The one thing Sam has needed is time to heal and he's been given all of the time and care that he could possibly need to start to let go of the past seven years. No more going out on the road, no more fighting, no more sacrifice and pain. He's earned this, every evening curled up on the couch in warm, familiar arms, every time he hears Rhys laugh - Sam knows this is where he's supposed to be.
They haven't taken that final step, but for the first few days Sam felt too jittery, too brittle. They've waited this long and he wants it to be right. Perfect.
"Attack hedges? If they get in league with the garden in the back we'll either be safe or doomed." A breathy laugh into his hair as he settles close with a contented sound. "Maybe we should name that big oak in the back Treebeard. Just so he can keep them in line?"
Sam's earned it, and not only will Rhys give him all the time he wants, he'll defend Sam's hard-won peace ferociously, with every bone of his body. It hasn't come to it yet, and Rhys thinks even Dean's come to terms with it, but while Rhys isn't really imposing, he's capable of single-minded viciousness when it's needed. There's no question he'd go to the mat for Sam, without a moment's hesitation, whether the topic is as big as going back out on the job or as trivial as waking him from his nap a moment early.
"Mmm. I don't know. Best game of Plants Versus Zombies ever." He's kidding, of course...mostly? But his blue eyes are glinting and there's that smile, all mischief. He burrows in close, enjoying their mingled scents touched with fabric softener and clean cotton, and runs a slow, lazy rhythm over Sam's ribs. Definitely at least another hour here.
He'll be ready when Sam is. As intense and erotic as that memory of the night of the raid on Valentina's is (Sam cradling him against him, sheltered close in those strong arms and just letting everything go, coming unravelled...) , this time is going to set the tone for everything. Their first time, and he wants it to be right, too, wants it to be everything that Sam wants it to be. A little bit of it is that romantic streak, but more than that, after everything...Rhys promised Sam as long as he needed for anything and he meant it. So no pressure, no advances. Just the quiet, soothing touches that they're already so comfortable with.
"But figure between the yard, a little painting, maybe making a battle-plan for the cellar..." The basement is technically furnished, but 'livable' might be a bit of an exaggeration. Definitely a fixer-upper. But it's good for Sam, Rhys thinks, low-stress work that gives an easy sense of accomplishment...making their place better. "Plus, got a couple new books for later, too, unless that was a hint that you want to bring out the Tolkien again."
He’s still healing, still finding his way to more solid ground, but that doesn’t mean Sam is any less of a planner. Afternoons when he’s drifting before a nap, lazy evenings cuddled close to Jared on the couch, his mind was slowly piecing together a plan. A way to say thank you, a way to show him that he was ready for more. To finally take that last step they were both anticipating. Because he wasn’t leaving again, ever. This was their home and he’d fight just as hard to defend it and his right to stay there.
The slow pass of familiar fingers along his ribs draws a contented rumble as he starts smoothing his hand down Rhys’s hair. At lunch. He’d talk him into hitting the burrito place down the street, which should give him more than enough time to set things up at home.
“Hey, I can’t help it if your Sindarin is almost as good as mine,” he teases, kissing his jaw with a dozy grin. “And we need to build in some bookshelves down there.” Because between the two of them, they were slowly developing a library. Old books of Bobby’s that they’d recovered, spellbooks, cookbooks, books for recreational reading, Sam was looking forward into turning the cellar into a quiet reading room for them. Comfortable couches, warm lamps and brightly colored rugs.
These were the mornings that he loved best, no rush to get up, just a warm, soft bed and slow lazy touches as they gradually worked towards waking up. Later there would be coffee and breakfast and maybe a jog, but for now Sam was perfectly content.
"Sometimes I think I could get the phone book and you'd be just as happy." He nudges the bigger man lightly, amused, and tips his head up at the kiss, like leaning up toward the sun. It's an easy joke: he knows how much Sam likes hearing him read, and it makes him happy. Poetry, books, even, once in a while, singing, though he's less confident on those occasions, his warm, low voice just a bit lower, more tentative. But Sam responds to it, and it makes Rhys feel warm and satisfied right down to his toes.
"That's a good plan. I think we're gonna have to completely re-carpet and re-paint, but means we can leave the spare room upstairs as a guest room after all." It's a small house, but they have simple needs, and a little extra shelving does wonders. "Little bit of work down there, and we'll get a lot of extra space out of it." Maybe a small workshop for Rhys, too, because even if they're out of the business, charms and other enchanted items for themselves and their friends still need to come from somewhere- plus a little extra profit from what Ellen might sell through the Roadhouse.
Lunch will be an easy sell. If it's going to be a yardwork day, or a lazy day, Rhys will be easy to talk into making a run for something he doesn't have to cook, especially if it means an extra treat like milkshakes or hibiscus iced tea. But for now, he's not even thinking that far ahead, just snuggled in contentedly as they talk and joke in their quiet little cocoon. These were the mornings they promised themselves, and now that they get to collect, Rhys is in no rush to move, either.
Sam chuckles, kissing along his jaw. "Mm. Maybe. Who knows, we might find a new Indian place, or a good antique store for you to raid with Josh?" It was the pitch of his voice, a reminder of peaceful times that got Sam through. For a long time he kept a few voicemails saved on his phone, just so he could listen to a friendly voice tell him that Bernie was in a new costume, or just a reminder to be safe.
Now he didn't have to listen to a voicemail, he could reach out and simply touch, know that he was close and that he'd never leave him behind again.
=+=+=+=+
They'd been working away in the back yard for most of the morning, clearing away overgrown bushes, pulling weeds and starting to turn the soil. Tomorrow they'd get some railroad ties and section off where the garden was going to be. Herbs, flowers and even a few vegetables. Leaning on the shovel, Sam cricks his neck. It felt good to be digging for something positive and not to unearth a moldy old grave for a salt and burn.
"Hey, think you can make a lunch run? I'm in the mood for one of those grilled veggie burritos down at Comet's."
It wasn't a terribly long drive, but it would buy him about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. About what he needed.
It's good work, especially with the weather finally cooperating and giving them a real summer. In spite of his ongoing protests that too much sun is bad for tattoos, Rhys even strips off his shirt when the midday heat reaches its peak, content to catch a little bit of sun while he works and ink stark against his fair skin. What's already in the yard is workable, especially the privacy fence and hedges, and Rhys is already kind of thinking he might like a little gazebo, too. He'll know more once they finish clearing the overgrowth and the rotted parts of the fence, though, and they're making good progress on that. Fresh air, radio playing, company...it's just what they both need to settle themselves, and ensures they go to bed well-worn out at the end of the day.
By the time they're done with a few hours' worth of work (whatever they feel like, they aren't on a timetable) and cleaned up, Rhys is more than happy to agree to heading out for lunch. "Sounds like a plan. Movies and maybe sort through some of the book boxes, see if there's anything to put on the reading list." The house is air conditioned, they did their work for the day...Rhys figures he can more than excuse some bumming around, after that. A little bit of sorting and maybe some more planning, but other than that? Stuffing themselves and then curling up on the couch is an entirely well-earned Sunday afternoon. Maybe some ice cream, and definitely a swing by the cafe for strawberry iced tea slushies. He grins. He doesn't like leaving Sam alone in the house too long just yet, odd as it is, but for just short trips, he's glad to see the big man seems alright with it. The fact that he's even suggesting it himself, that's a good sign, and Rhys leans up for a peck.
"Be back soon, then. See what else I can dredge up for an afternoon of not moving. Y'know the drill, call if you need anything, right?" His gaze turns serious for just a moment, there. Even if Sam just needs the reassurance of his voice in the ten minutes before Rhys gets home, Rhys wants him to call, and he makes damn sure that Sam knows it. "Be back soon. Be good, okay? And I'll make sure and grab extra salsa for lunch tomorrow." Okay, he's still way overplanning. But after everything? There's worse things.
"I know." Sam runs a thumb along his jawline fondly. The good days were quickly outnumbering the bad, but he still had days when he was a little too shaken, when the nightmares were a little too close to the surface and he needed a familiar voice to help keep him grounded. Rhys was his touchstone, just like always. "'m good. I'll try and get a few of the boxes moved around, root through them upstairs instead of in the basement."
Of course, he had his own plans for how they were going to spend the afternoon and once Rhys was out the door, seen off with a kiss, Sam went immediately to work.
When Rhys makes it home with lunch, the house is quiet. No music, tv or even the sound of Sam tapping at a keyboard. The windows are open, filling the house with cool, fresh air. Near the doorway is Sam's shirt, draped across a doorknob. A little further down the hall on the floor? His jeans.
The trail of clothes lead back to the bedroom where Sam had clearly been busy. The room was softly lit with a dozen or more little electric tea lights around the bed. The warm quilt had been neatly folded and set aside and the bed remade with clean, crisp sheets that were just barely covering Sam's naked body. He'd had every intention of warming up a bit, to show Rhys that he was ready and that maybe today should finally be the day. But a morning of hard work and a cool comfortable bed had pulled Sam almost immediately to sleep.
His one attempt at seduction derailed by an unexpected nap.
A few weeks is nothing, and Rhys understands that. After Valentina, Rhys had uncertain, shaky nights for months afterward, and Sam is resetting his entire life, after nearly dying. Being able to touch base whenever he needs, Rhys knows how important that is. Even if it's just a brief text or a warm reassuring voice that he's on his way back and just a few minutes away.
The silence in the house when he comes back makes Rhys raise his eyebrows, and he's just feeling out the webwork of wards and wondering what's going on when he catches the one thing that actually is out of place: the shirt. Sam isn't the one who leaves his clothes around, and it clicks right away that this was...very possibly intentional, combined with the suggestion that Rhys go out for lunch. That so, so casual suggestion? Oh, hello. What have we here. Very un-Sam-like and very, very intriguing, as Rhys's mind tumbles onto the possibilities. The jeans in the middle of the hall is just more confirmation, and sets his heart beating even faster, as he hurries to put his armload of bags down in the kitchen and head for the bedroom.
When he pushes the door open and looks inside, it might not be exactly what Sam planned, but it still makes his heart tighten and his mouth go dry. Sam, sprawled out on their bed by candlelight with very obviously nothing under the sheets, sound asleep hits him right in the heart, and in the best possible way. That he so obviously planned this...
For a while, Rhys can only just stand there and...simply watch him, eyes lingering over every line of that powerful, muscled body, relaxed in sleep. And it's not just the want that hits him, though that's there too (Sam's hands and mouth on him, exploring every inch of each other by golden light until they're too spent to even move)...there's also the realization that this is his. Sam is stripped and asleep in their bed, waiting for him, and it's everything Rhys ever wanted, right here, and it's real. Sam being ready to take that last step, that's huge and oh, yes, Rhys has definitely registered that, but right now, standing in the door, he's also struck by everything that it means, and it's amazing.
Rhys quietly slips into the room once he's gotten over that moment of shock, sheds his shoes and slides onto the bed with Sam, smiling down at him. God, how could he not love him the way he does?
He doesn't hear the door to the house open, or even the door to their bedroom. Years of living on the road with too little sleep have taken their toll and Sam tends to drop off anytime he holds still for too long. Still recovering, still healing. Maybe one day he won't teasingly refer to himself as a narcoleptic, but it's okay. He has a safe place to rest and be comfortable.
What Sam does notice is the shifting on the mattress and a presence he can register even as he swims back towards awareness.Crap. So much for his surprise going the way it wanted to.
But when Sam cracks an eye and sees the way Rhys is looking down at him, his expression so open, so full of astonishment and love, it doesn't matter that he screwed up his surprise. Jared looks at Sam like he's his whole world and he's not sure he'll ever get enough of that look. No doubt, no annoyance, just pure, complete love.
A dozy grin crosses his face as he reaches out to stroke his cheek. "So, um. Surprise?"
As much as Rhys teases, it's still sweet and more than a little warming the way Sam can simply doze off on him. Hunters simply don't sleep where they don't feel safe, not very well or for very long, and to Rhys, it's a picture of utter contentment to have Sam snuggled against him, sound asleep while Rhys pets through his hair lightly and smooths over those broad shoulders. It's even why he made sure to buy the extra-long couch, knowing Sam's enormous frame would spend a good deal of time sprawled on it.
Rhys chuckles quietly, and tilts his face into the touch. "Surprise. Hey, sleeping beauty." His voice is soft and low in the candlelight scene, catching just a bit at the edges, and he lifts his own hand to touch the back of Sam's where it lays his cheek. "And normally I'm the one up to something." He grins, turning his head just enough to catch Sam's fingers with his lips. "Think you're gonna have to give me a minute, here, my brain's still trying to reboot itself."
Sam has his moments of being underhanded, you don't grow up around someone like Dean Winchester without learning how to be sneaky. But the warmth and safety of the house, their mingled scents on the pillows, it all sort of snuck up on him. A slow blink as he pulls himself back to awareness, basking in the warmth of Rhys's smile and the glow of his skin by candle light. It doesn't matter if his surprise went wrong when he can have moments like this. The soft astonishment on his face, the warmth in his eyes.
"Still rebooting, huh?" He pulls himself up beside him, drawing Rhys close to his bare chest for a kiss. "Then I guess I'd better sneak this in first."
"I want you," Sam murmurs against his lips. "I want you, Jared."
As far as Rhys is concerned, the surprise is every bit as good, and he will have this image tattooed on his brain for the rest of his life. Especially now that he's getting over the pure impact of it and his mind, and hormones, are starting to get around to all the other potential for this, Sam stretched out and naked under that sheet like the best present ever for him to unwrap. The fact that it's sweet, mostly guileless Sam that's pulled the trick on him just makes it even hotter, in Rhys's opinion.
Not that he hadn't taken notice before, but now he's really noticing, and oh, the way that sheet slides just a little further down when Sam sits up. Rhys meets the kiss, all soft lips and lingering heat, and it's a glow all the way through him as his hands brush bare skin. He's not so worried about knowing what to say, because there's not much to say. He's been waiting to hear this, and when he peers up at Sam when they break the kiss, breathless and tingling, his blue eyes are bright. Their one time so far was good, amazing, even, but until now, it's also felt kind of like it happened in a bubble, with everything else. This is a completely new step, and Rhys's heart is already beating faster with anticipation. it's a heady mix, new territory mixed with the power of the feelings between them and that smoldering chemistry that they already know can be amazing.
"Y'know you got me. Anything you want." He presses another kiss to the corner of Sam's mouth, unwilling to break off just yet. "Want you, too, Sam. So much. Love you." The words tumble out, almost drunk, and Rhys remembers there was something they were supposed to be doing before he got distracted, but well, it's not very important anymore, suddenly.
Even after the time they've spent this first week, the near constant cuddling, touching, they're still easily drunk on touch, especially in bed like this. It's a different sort of touch, a promise kept this time. His hand slides up to cup his jaw and draw Jared into a warm kiss. "I love you too. I love you so much."
He's ready for this, ready for them to finally be a couple and build a life together. After so many years on the road and so much heartbreak - they're due. They're owed.
Quick hands help tug his shirt off and bare arms slide around his torso, drawing him in close, his mind flashing back to that moment at Tuck's - when he finally decided they were both being idiots, dancing around the fact that they loved one another. That memory had helped him through so many nights, the low cry against his shoulder as Rhys came undone beneath him. A whispered promise that he'd come back, that he'd come back and it would all be over. No more hunting.
Now he's finally got everything he's ever wanted. Jared, building a life together and now this. Warmth and intimacy and love.
It's much needed reassurance for both of them, all the touches, being able to reach out and find the other right there, solid and real and healthy, but this is different. And Rhys couldn't have asked for anything more perfect, with the cool sheets and the warm golden light highlighting Sam's skin and hair. Their home, their bed.
It's entirely too easy to strip his shirt off and sink into Sam's arms, meeting his kiss as he falls into him. That night had played in his mind countless times, too, every detail of it, and Rhys is thrilled, but completely unsurprised to find it's still the same. The same comfort, the same strength, the same heat, as want washes over him and his hand finds a path down Sam's side and back to rest just above the curve where the sheet still covers. He's still wearing his shorts (an uncomfortable reminder, as they don't fit quite as well as they did when he first came into the house), but they can fix that...in a minute. When he feels like moving. But right now, he's not giving up an inch.
"Got years of things I've been wanting to do," he murmurs, voice gone down to a low purr, words edged out between kisses. As though he can't stand to break contact for more than those couple of seconds at a time, even to make promises. Sam's lips are soft and sweet and Rhys's taste of the strawberry tea he sneaked on the drive home, and the press of the two of them together sends a rush of lightheadedness through him. Nearly a year of anticipation, waiting and fearing and wanting, finally coming due. They've more than earned it.
Sam laughs warmly, fingers sifting through his dark hair and slowly pulling it out of the thick braid. It's all just as he remembered, the warm, lean body in his arms, soft and wiling lips. The slide of familiar hands that can finally touch him because there's no more holding back. A few days of quiet comfort and rest and he's ready for this, ready to finally be with Jared the way they both had wanted.
A large hand slides down his tattooed arm, fingers tracing familiar whirls and points along his skin as they linger over another kiss. Even after a year, he doesn't want to rush this. They've got the rest of their lives and he's going to remember every moment of it, every detail. This was what they'd worked for, what they'd suffered for - a home and a life that was theirs.
"Then I guess we'd better stop waiting," he murmurs, lips slowly working along his jaw.
But those nights when Sam's finally dozing off, the big man's head tucked in his lap and his breathing finally gone slow and heavy with sleep, it's all worth it. Rhys never thought he could be this happy, and that he can finally let himself.
Sam's big, warm hands through his hair draw a low sigh of pleasure from him, and he can't help but tilt his head in like a cat responding to petting. At first, he hadn't been sure how much touch Sam would want, how much contact he'd be comfortable with, but that worry was erased quickly- pretty much the moment Sam threw himself into Rhys's arms. They both thrive on it, especially in their fragile states, and being able to just sink into it completely, to reach out and find the other there without having to hold back, that's something else that's just amazing. Even if they're still waiting to go further, it's a blessing and feels more like home than all the best houses in the world could.
"Mmm. Hell. Let 'em grow a little more and we'll train them. Attack hedges." Rhys grins up at Sam without lifting his head. Okay, he has some novel ideas of security, but he also has iron nails driven into the doorframe, salt on the windowsills, and hex bags and herbs hung over every entrance. Plus, thorns tattooed over about thirty percent of his body, give or take. Who knows if he's kidding or not?
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They haven't taken that final step, but for the first few days Sam felt too jittery, too brittle. They've waited this long and he wants it to be right. Perfect.
"Attack hedges? If they get in league with the garden in the back we'll either be safe or doomed." A breathy laugh into his hair as he settles close with a contented sound. "Maybe we should name that big oak in the back Treebeard. Just so he can keep them in line?"
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"Mmm. I don't know. Best game of Plants Versus Zombies ever." He's kidding, of course...mostly? But his blue eyes are glinting and there's that smile, all mischief. He burrows in close, enjoying their mingled scents touched with fabric softener and clean cotton, and runs a slow, lazy rhythm over Sam's ribs. Definitely at least another hour here.
He'll be ready when Sam is. As intense and erotic as that memory of the night of the raid on Valentina's is (Sam cradling him against him, sheltered close in those strong arms and just letting everything go, coming unravelled...) , this time is going to set the tone for everything. Their first time, and he wants it to be right, too, wants it to be everything that Sam wants it to be. A little bit of it is that romantic streak, but more than that, after everything...Rhys promised Sam as long as he needed for anything and he meant it. So no pressure, no advances. Just the quiet, soothing touches that they're already so comfortable with.
"But figure between the yard, a little painting, maybe making a battle-plan for the cellar..." The basement is technically furnished, but 'livable' might be a bit of an exaggeration. Definitely a fixer-upper. But it's good for Sam, Rhys thinks, low-stress work that gives an easy sense of accomplishment...making their place better. "Plus, got a couple new books for later, too, unless that was a hint that you want to bring out the Tolkien again."
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The slow pass of familiar fingers along his ribs draws a contented rumble as he starts smoothing his hand down Rhys’s hair. At lunch. He’d talk him into hitting the burrito place down the street, which should give him more than enough time to set things up at home.
“Hey, I can’t help it if your Sindarin is almost as good as mine,” he teases, kissing his jaw with a dozy grin. “And we need to build in some bookshelves down there.” Because between the two of them, they were slowly developing a library. Old books of Bobby’s that they’d recovered, spellbooks, cookbooks, books for recreational reading, Sam was looking forward into turning the cellar into a quiet reading room for them. Comfortable couches, warm lamps and brightly colored rugs.
These were the mornings that he loved best, no rush to get up, just a warm, soft bed and slow lazy touches as they gradually worked towards waking up. Later there would be coffee and breakfast and maybe a jog, but for now Sam was perfectly content.
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"That's a good plan. I think we're gonna have to completely re-carpet and re-paint, but means we can leave the spare room upstairs as a guest room after all." It's a small house, but they have simple needs, and a little extra shelving does wonders. "Little bit of work down there, and we'll get a lot of extra space out of it." Maybe a small workshop for Rhys, too, because even if they're out of the business, charms and other enchanted items for themselves and their friends still need to come from somewhere- plus a little extra profit from what Ellen might sell through the Roadhouse.
Lunch will be an easy sell. If it's going to be a yardwork day, or a lazy day, Rhys will be easy to talk into making a run for something he doesn't have to cook, especially if it means an extra treat like milkshakes or hibiscus iced tea. But for now, he's not even thinking that far ahead, just snuggled in contentedly as they talk and joke in their quiet little cocoon. These were the mornings they promised themselves, and now that they get to collect, Rhys is in no rush to move, either.
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Now he didn't have to listen to a voicemail, he could reach out and simply touch, know that he was close and that he'd never leave him behind again.
=+=+=+=+
They'd been working away in the back yard for most of the morning, clearing away overgrown bushes, pulling weeds and starting to turn the soil. Tomorrow they'd get some railroad ties and section off where the garden was going to be. Herbs, flowers and even a few vegetables. Leaning on the shovel, Sam cricks his neck. It felt good to be digging for something positive and not to unearth a moldy old grave for a salt and burn.
"Hey, think you can make a lunch run? I'm in the mood for one of those grilled veggie burritos down at Comet's."
It wasn't a terribly long drive, but it would buy him about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. About what he needed.
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By the time they're done with a few hours' worth of work (whatever they feel like, they aren't on a timetable) and cleaned up, Rhys is more than happy to agree to heading out for lunch. "Sounds like a plan. Movies and maybe sort through some of the book boxes, see if there's anything to put on the reading list." The house is air conditioned, they did their work for the day...Rhys figures he can more than excuse some bumming around, after that. A little bit of sorting and maybe some more planning, but other than that? Stuffing themselves and then curling up on the couch is an entirely well-earned Sunday afternoon. Maybe some ice cream, and definitely a swing by the cafe for strawberry iced tea slushies. He grins. He doesn't like leaving Sam alone in the house too long just yet, odd as it is, but for just short trips, he's glad to see the big man seems alright with it. The fact that he's even suggesting it himself, that's a good sign, and Rhys leans up for a peck.
"Be back soon, then. See what else I can dredge up for an afternoon of not moving. Y'know the drill, call if you need anything, right?" His gaze turns serious for just a moment, there. Even if Sam just needs the reassurance of his voice in the ten minutes before Rhys gets home, Rhys wants him to call, and he makes damn sure that Sam knows it. "Be back soon. Be good, okay? And I'll make sure and grab extra salsa for lunch tomorrow." Okay, he's still way overplanning. But after everything? There's worse things.
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Of course, he had his own plans for how they were going to spend the afternoon and once Rhys was out the door, seen off with a kiss, Sam went immediately to work.
When Rhys makes it home with lunch, the house is quiet. No music, tv or even the sound of Sam tapping at a keyboard. The windows are open, filling the house with cool, fresh air. Near the doorway is Sam's shirt, draped across a doorknob. A little further down the hall on the floor? His jeans.
The trail of clothes lead back to the bedroom where Sam had clearly been busy. The room was softly lit with a dozen or more little electric tea lights around the bed. The warm quilt had been neatly folded and set aside and the bed remade with clean, crisp sheets that were just barely covering Sam's naked body. He'd had every intention of warming up a bit, to show Rhys that he was ready and that maybe today should finally be the day. But a morning of hard work and a cool comfortable bed had pulled Sam almost immediately to sleep.
His one attempt at seduction derailed by an unexpected nap.
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The silence in the house when he comes back makes Rhys raise his eyebrows, and he's just feeling out the webwork of wards and wondering what's going on when he catches the one thing that actually is out of place: the shirt. Sam isn't the one who leaves his clothes around, and it clicks right away that this was...very possibly intentional, combined with the suggestion that Rhys go out for lunch. That so, so casual suggestion? Oh, hello. What have we here. Very un-Sam-like and very, very intriguing, as Rhys's mind tumbles onto the possibilities. The jeans in the middle of the hall is just more confirmation, and sets his heart beating even faster, as he hurries to put his armload of bags down in the kitchen and head for the bedroom.
When he pushes the door open and looks inside, it might not be exactly what Sam planned, but it still makes his heart tighten and his mouth go dry. Sam, sprawled out on their bed by candlelight with very obviously nothing under the sheets, sound asleep hits him right in the heart, and in the best possible way. That he so obviously planned this...
For a while, Rhys can only just stand there and...simply watch him, eyes lingering over every line of that powerful, muscled body, relaxed in sleep. And it's not just the want that hits him, though that's there too (Sam's hands and mouth on him, exploring every inch of each other by golden light until they're too spent to even move)...there's also the realization that this is his. Sam is stripped and asleep in their bed, waiting for him, and it's everything Rhys ever wanted, right here, and it's real. Sam being ready to take that last step, that's huge and oh, yes, Rhys has definitely registered that, but right now, standing in the door, he's also struck by everything that it means, and it's amazing.
Rhys quietly slips into the room once he's gotten over that moment of shock, sheds his shoes and slides onto the bed with Sam, smiling down at him. God, how could he not love him the way he does?
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What Sam does notice is the shifting on the mattress and a presence he can register even as he swims back towards awareness.Crap. So much for his surprise going the way it wanted to.
But when Sam cracks an eye and sees the way Rhys is looking down at him, his expression so open, so full of astonishment and love, it doesn't matter that he screwed up his surprise. Jared looks at Sam like he's his whole world and he's not sure he'll ever get enough of that look. No doubt, no annoyance, just pure, complete love.
A dozy grin crosses his face as he reaches out to stroke his cheek. "So, um. Surprise?"
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Rhys chuckles quietly, and tilts his face into the touch. "Surprise. Hey, sleeping beauty." His voice is soft and low in the candlelight scene, catching just a bit at the edges, and he lifts his own hand to touch the back of Sam's where it lays his cheek. "And normally I'm the one up to something." He grins, turning his head just enough to catch Sam's fingers with his lips. "Think you're gonna have to give me a minute, here, my brain's still trying to reboot itself."
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"Still rebooting, huh?" He pulls himself up beside him, drawing Rhys close to his bare chest for a kiss. "Then I guess I'd better sneak this in first."
"I want you," Sam murmurs against his lips. "I want you, Jared."
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Not that he hadn't taken notice before, but now he's really noticing, and oh, the way that sheet slides just a little further down when Sam sits up. Rhys meets the kiss, all soft lips and lingering heat, and it's a glow all the way through him as his hands brush bare skin. He's not so worried about knowing what to say, because there's not much to say. He's been waiting to hear this, and when he peers up at Sam when they break the kiss, breathless and tingling, his blue eyes are bright. Their one time so far was good, amazing, even, but until now, it's also felt kind of like it happened in a bubble, with everything else. This is a completely new step, and Rhys's heart is already beating faster with anticipation. it's a heady mix, new territory mixed with the power of the feelings between them and that smoldering chemistry that they already know can be amazing.
"Y'know you got me. Anything you want." He presses another kiss to the corner of Sam's mouth, unwilling to break off just yet. "Want you, too, Sam. So much. Love you." The words tumble out, almost drunk, and Rhys remembers there was something they were supposed to be doing before he got distracted, but well, it's not very important anymore, suddenly.
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He's ready for this, ready for them to finally be a couple and build a life together. After so many years on the road and so much heartbreak - they're due. They're owed.
Quick hands help tug his shirt off and bare arms slide around his torso, drawing him in close, his mind flashing back to that moment at Tuck's - when he finally decided they were both being idiots, dancing around the fact that they loved one another. That memory had helped him through so many nights, the low cry against his shoulder as Rhys came undone beneath him. A whispered promise that he'd come back, that he'd come back and it would all be over. No more hunting.
Now he's finally got everything he's ever wanted. Jared, building a life together and now this. Warmth and intimacy and love.
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It's entirely too easy to strip his shirt off and sink into Sam's arms, meeting his kiss as he falls into him. That night had played in his mind countless times, too, every detail of it, and Rhys is thrilled, but completely unsurprised to find it's still the same. The same comfort, the same strength, the same heat, as want washes over him and his hand finds a path down Sam's side and back to rest just above the curve where the sheet still covers. He's still wearing his shorts (an uncomfortable reminder, as they don't fit quite as well as they did when he first came into the house), but they can fix that...in a minute. When he feels like moving. But right now, he's not giving up an inch.
"Got years of things I've been wanting to do," he murmurs, voice gone down to a low purr, words edged out between kisses. As though he can't stand to break contact for more than those couple of seconds at a time, even to make promises. Sam's lips are soft and sweet and Rhys's taste of the strawberry tea he sneaked on the drive home, and the press of the two of them together sends a rush of lightheadedness through him. Nearly a year of anticipation, waiting and fearing and wanting, finally coming due. They've more than earned it.
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A large hand slides down his tattooed arm, fingers tracing familiar whirls and points along his skin as they linger over another kiss. Even after a year, he doesn't want to rush this. They've got the rest of their lives and he's going to remember every moment of it, every detail. This was what they'd worked for, what they'd suffered for - a home and a life that was theirs.
"Then I guess we'd better stop waiting," he murmurs, lips slowly working along his jaw.
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