rps fic: and behind this door... (2/4) j2_everafter
part one
In the end, Jensen doesn't really make a decision. He just--can't not see Jared any more. He misses him.
"So," Jensen says, "the floor workers have been refusing to cease and desist the formation of guilds, even at the company's express orders." He swings his arms back and forth, catches his fist in one hand. "It's just been eating up all my time."
"What you're telling me," Jared says carefully, "is that the long delay between your last visit and this one was caused by the noble cause of suppressing unionization?"
Jensen tuts. "If you think about it, what's good for the company is good for everybody."
Jared leans back in his desk chair, pushing his sweater's hood off his face and leaving his hair disheveled. "I'm not demanding romance, exactly," he says, "but capitalism trumping the question of requited love is a little cold-blooded, don't you think?"
"Is it requited?" Jensen asks. He grips his wrists behind his back, presses against the wall. He's nervous. He wishes he had brought a gift. Some sort of token to sweeten the deal.
Jared sighs, leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Maybe."
Jensen feels a fluttering in his stomach. The weight of something too heavy to take flight. "Maybe," he repeats.
Jared looks up at Jensen, kind of--demanding Jensen's gaze. He's chewing at his lip. "Is that okay?" he asks, shifting, and all of a sudden, under lamp light, he looks really young.
They're just kids.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "That's okay."
"It won't be forever," Jared says. "I want to--couldn't we practice it?" He stands up, smiling hopefully. He rubs at the side of his neck. "I could come to Monstropolis. You could show me around the Labyrinth, take me to that restaurant you were going on about."
"Oh, no," Jensen says, immediately. The CDA would crack down before Jared could even leave the company headquarters. He sees the smile dim on Jared's face and quickly adds, "But we could go to dinner next weekend, if you want. I've been dreaming about gyros. Late, maybe."
Jared nods. "Yeah, that sounds good. A movie? We might as well make it a classic first date. Are you gonna be able to get away?"
"Yes," Jensen says. He's confident. "Curfews are for pussies, anyway."
"Sweet," Jared says. "Meanwhile, it's one, which means lights out for me."
"Bedtimes are for prospective boyfriends," Jensen clarifies.
"Ah," Jared laughs. "Noted."
****
Sully's still in his office when Jensen gets back from his first date with Jared. The big guy’s got a tie slung around his neck, the neckwear decorated with cartoon kids screaming, mouths so big you can see their uvulas.
"Hey," Jensen says. "You're wearing the tie I got you."
Sully looks up from his desk, smiles. "Needed my lucky one today."
Jensen grins, then takes a good look at Sully. His red eyes and matted fur. "You look tired," Jensen says. He walks over, pulls the folder Sully's studying over to himself, glances through it. He closes it firmly. "This can wait. Clock out."
Sully nods, pushes back from his desk. He stretches, stifling a yawn. "Wait," he says. "Hey. How did your big night go?"
Jensen groans. "Don't ask."
"That bad?" Sully asks.
Jensen falls into the chair across from Sully, feels the leather creak under him. He thinks over the way he hadn't been able to stop noting all the tiny differences from home. The sudden paralysis at seeing Jared in a light that wasn't warm and dim and close. "It was overwhelming. I think we were both nervous."
"Hm," Sully says.
Jensen kicks his feet up onto Sully's desk and Sully bats at them, tutting under his breath. Jensen grins, swings them back onto the ground.
"It won't always be that way," Sully tells him.
"You think?" Jensen grunts out a disgusted noise. "I just-I don’t know where we stand. I feel like I know squat. Nothing about anything."
"Be easier on yourself," Sully says, gentle. He stands, grabs his hat from where it's hanging, picks up his briefcase. "Alright, boyo. Let's go home. You can tell me all about it on our way." He waits at the door, holding it open.
Jensen stands. He slides his hands into his pockets, looks Sully in the eye. "Am I making the right choices?" he asks.
Sully puts on his hat, touches the brim. He shuffles his feet. “I don’t want you to carry any regret,” he finally says. Every bone in his body an earnest one.
****
On their fifth date, Jared says, "You think I'm loose, don't you?"
Jensen is used to Jared's non-sequiturs by now; he's learned to catch them as they go flying by. "Yes," Jensen says. "It's in the swing of your hips."
Jared laughs, flicks a balled-up straw wrapper at Jensen's face, hits him square between the eyes, and Jensen thinks to himself, 'Bullseye.'
They’re behind a fast food place, milkshakes still in hand, detritus of a quick, late-night bite. The parking lot is empty, the light from inside the restaurant only making it seem darker, here, outside.
“How long will it take to walk back to your house?” Jensen asks.
“Not long.” Jared leans against the short stone wall limning the lot. He pats the space next to him. “You want to sit? We don’t have to hurry unless you want to.”
Jensen hops up onto the wall, kicks his heels off the stone.
“Could I-“ Jared starts. He shakes his head. “Are you cold?”
Jensen shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”
Jared clears his throat, pushes off the wall. He moves to stand between Jensen’s legs, his hands settling on Jensen’s knees, making them go still and tense. Jensen can feel the heat of his palms.
“You’re planning on kissing me, right?” Jensen asks.
Jared lets out this startled bubble of laughter, licks his bottom lip. Jared leans in, and Jensen must close his eyes then, because he’s surprised when Jared’s mouth is suddenly against his. This tentative slide of lips, and Jensen shivers. He is cold.
Jared pulls away, and when Jensen can bring himself to open his eyes, Jared is still close, shadows on his face, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Was that okay? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Jensen scrubs at his face with both hands, then reaches out to keep Jared from moving away, grips the shirt at Jared’s sides, fists pressed to where Jared is soft. He leans his forehead on Jared’s shoulder, laughing, a little embarrassed. “I kind of thought I’d-I don’t know. I always pictured hearing music when I imagined this. You with me.”
Jared’s quiet for a while, and Jensen doesn’t feel ready to look up, to see his face. He presses his eyes into the curve that slides up into Jared’s neck. Jared’s moving under him, but it’s only when Jensen feels Jared’s touch against his ear that he looks up to find himself being kissed again, an earbud slipped into his ear, voices singing, drums, guitar, a whole chorus soaring with melody; and Jensen touches Jared’s throat, kisses him with every bit inside him breaking open just the tiniest bit.
When it’s done, Jared’s smiling. Headphones still connecting them, his hand curving around Jensen’s calf. “And now?” he asks. This joyful noise in Jensen’s ears.
****
Jensen's not exactly focused, back at home. Still, Monsters, Incorporated is sort of a family business and he does feel a sense of responsibility towards it, if not strictly a passion.
But when Sully comes by and says, "I let the guilds form," Jensen's not surprised. He's spaced out in enough meetings to warrant news he isn't prepared for.
Jensen nods. "Okay." He knows Sully doesn't make decisions lightly.
"It'll keep us honest," Sully says.
"You're honest."
Sully smiles. He looks a little tired. "I'd like to be, at least." He pats Jensen's shoulder. "Hey. You've been floating around, head in the clouds."
Jensen flushes. "I'm sorry."
Sully's smile grows. "Don't be. It's nice, watching your toes skim the ground." His hand is heavy and kind on Jensen's shoulder. "Can you be a little more careful?" he asks. He seems so tired.
****
"I like Drake a lot," Jared says confidently, but then he smiles down at his burger before looking up at Jensen. "Er."
Jensen shrugs. "I have no idea who that is."
Jared laughs. "Yeah." He takes a bite, wipes away a smear of ketchup at the corner of his mouth, swallows. "He's this rapper. I don't know. I'm probably too square to like him, but I do."
"Only squares use the word square," Jensen agrees. He stretches his legs out under the table, props one foot up against the seat just next to Jared's thigh.
Jared smiles. "This is fun," he says, and Jensen beams back, doesn't even bother to try to dial it down.
It's a nice little moment, interrupted by a guy in a school sweater dropping into the booth next to Jared, slapping a hand on Jared's chest before stealing a few fries. "Buddy boy," he hoots.
Jared doesn't flash too much annoyance, just makes room and introductions. "Uh. Brad, this is Jensen, Jensen, Brad."
"Hi," Jensen says. He pulls his feet back to his side of the table, straightens his back. It's the first time he's met one of Jared's friends.
Brad looks between Jensen and Jared, wiping the grease off his fingers onto a paper napkin. "You two on a date? Are you the reason Jared keeps blowing off Lisa Portadero, who, by the way, is still completely hot for it."
"Jesus," Jared says.
"I told you we should go somewhere classier," Jensen points out. "I'm not so sure you appreciate my true value as a person."
"This is totally a date," Brad decides. He slings an arm around Jared's shoulders, thumps Jared's chest again. "So what is it you like so much about my boy Jay?" he asks Jensen.
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
"You're right, unfair. This is a pretty uncomfortable situation for you." Brad turns to Jared. "Jared? Why hide Jensen under a bushel? He seems older and patronizing. You know how much I dig that."
Jensen smirks.
Jared groans, presses the heel of one hand against his eye. "Fuck, Brad." He sighs, drops his hand, smiles, tired, over at Jensen. "I just wanted to keep him to myself for a while," he says. It comes out quiet and fond and Jensen feels the warmth of it for days, a fire lit on the hearth.
****
Roz is waiting the next time Jensen sneaks through Jared's door. She has on her CDA vest. Not a good sign.
"Are things about to go very bad?" Jensen asks.
"It depends on your definition," Roz says. She adjusts her glasses. "You stepped in some mud. I'm going to help you clean up."
****
Jensen has just enough time to dash strokes across a piece of scrap paper, slip it under Jared's door with a knock.
Jared, it says, could you be my forever girl?
Jensen paces. He can't really--he doesn't have days. He doesn't even have hours. But this is a decision he can't make by himself, and it's almost soothing, to know that there are more hands and hearts involved in this than his own. He whispers out a quick, "Please," staring hard at the crack of light underneath the door.
He puts a hand on the doorknob. He touches the button that would cut off the power, making bright lights go dark.
He presses his fingertips to the moldings of the door, like he could feel Jared in the points of heat.
A lined piece of notebook paper slides between his feet. Jensen picks it up, sits on the floor in front of the gateway. He reads:
Stay.
****
Roz is sitting across from Jensen, sheafs of papers stacked on the desk between them. She's reading through contracts and exit agreements in a low monotone, and Jensen adjusts his grip on the pen Sully had given to him when he'd first started working at Monsters, Inc. It's a familiar, balanced weight in his hand.
Sully had been upset; Jensen could tell. He'd hugged Jensen tight, lifted him up off his feet, and hadn't said much of anything.
"I'll miss you," Jensen had said, and Sully had just nodded with tears in his eyes, patted Jensen's face with one paw like he'd used to, when Jensen was still a little boy and he could still rest his whole face in the pad of Sully's hand.
Leaving is even harder than Jensen thought it would be.
"Your school records will be intact. You should be able to enroll in grad school, if you can finish out some credits beforehand. The papers are in triplicate--a true joy, triplicate," Roz says. "Sign here."
Jensen signs. "Who knew the paperwork would be ready and waiting for something like this," he tries to joke.
Roz doesn't look up. "Be glad you weren’t around when Mab had Fairy Acquisitions doing brisk business. You're not the first. You won't be the last." She points. "Initial here."
Jensen scrawls letters.
Roz picks up the papers, taps the ends against the desk, straightening them. The fluorescent light above is humming, a rippling pond of white noise. She licks her finger, flips a page over, then turns it back toward Jensen. She frames the stack with her hands, looks over the rims of her glasses. "Now. Are you sure about all this?" she asks. "There won't be any going back."
Jensen thinks what it would be like, to see Jared's door get shredded. To be in the middle of a working bay at Monsters Incorporated, watching a machine spit out splinters. "Yes," he says. "I'm sure." He thinks he's sure.
Roz pushes her glasses up. She points. "Sign here."
****
"You're just gonna leave?" Mike says. "Without so much as a kiss goodbye, a 'thanks-for-all-you've-done'?"
Jensen gets down on one knee, wraps his arms around Mike as best he can. He kisses the top of Mike's head. "Goodbye. Thanks for all you've done."
"I'm not okay with this," Mike says, "I have to say it. I know it's not like me to put myself out there, but it's out of decency and courtesy that I say I'm not happy. Too much is changing around here. You know the guilds are a thorn in my side, don't you? Who will draw it delicately from my injured paw?"
"I'm not happy either." He hugs Mike again. "Don't cry on me, okay? This is a new shirt."
Mike pushes him away with his skinny arms, blinks his glassy eye a few times. "It makes you look like a clown."
Sully is standing a few feet away, in front of a couple CDA agents. He has his arms crossed, face shuttered.
Jensen opens the door. He puts one foot over the threshold, looks back. Sully lifts one hand, fingers unfurling, and Jensen can feel the stretch of every one, like keys turning in five locks, laying something vulnerable in his chest bare.
"Bye,” he says, and Jensen racks his brain, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say.
****
It's only after the door closes that Jensen realizes he'd forgotten to tell Sully that he'd moved the files for the arbitration with Imaginary Friends, Ltd. to the top drawer of his desk. He jumps forward, throws the door open, but there's nothing but Jared's winter coats, a baseball bat, a few spare blankets.
"Hey," Jared says from behind him. "You okay?"
Jensen nods. He turns inside the closet, arms out, measuring the span of it, then shakes his head, hard, strides out. He pulls Jared into a hug, arms wrapped around Jared's waist, face pressed into Jared's neck.
Jared's hands slide up and down Jensen's back. "It's okay," he says. His voice rumbles in his chest. "Jeff cried like a bitch when we moved him out to college."
Jensen snorts. He breathes Jared in.
"Maybe you can visit," Jared says after a while. His thumb is rubbing circles into Jensen's lower back.
Jensen sighs. He pulls away from Jared, runs his hands through his hair, finding his composure. He settles back into the edges of his body, lets himself fill out. "Naw," he says. "They're probably shredding as we speak."
So this is growing up, Jensen thinks. A winnowing down of the paths he can choose to walk.
****
aced my midterms. it's strnge, this sea of my own genius. college the flimsiest of watergoing crafts, still unsure upon which distant shore of greatness i'll land. like edison in his youth, or Chingis Khan, terrtories yet to be conquered
Jensen rolls his eyes and smirks, holding his phone under his desk in the library. He's pretty sure Jared could write a novel in text form, easy. He puts the phone facedown next to his textbook. He's still got two more exams to go, and he's got a paper he needs to bash out if he wants to fulfill the last of his prerequisites. He's just slid back into study mode when his phone vibrates again.
bt-dubs, that last text was pretty good.
Jensen laughs.
****
He still wasn't sure how much of it was Roz greasing wheels, and how much was luck. Jared had been ready to head out to college in Austin in a few weeks, and Jensen had just gone ahead, his transfer mapped out, an apartment squared away.
It's ferociously easy, really, to change your entire life. You just put it on like anything new, one leg at a time.
****
It's strange, though, all the little, unexpected ways you shift. Adaptations you never saw coming. Jensen catalogs: photos, voicemails, ticket stubs. He buys a video camera, cheap, from this chick who lives two floors up from Jared.
"You know you're getting quiet," Jared says, looking up into the lens.
Jensen reframes him, the broad torso filling up the left side of the shot; the coffee shop rundown and full of faded warmth in the background. "Am I?" he says.
Jared grins, the sun glaring through the window behind him. He's all shadow. "I'm starting to worry you have hidden depths."
Jensen stands, moves until the sun is blocked by Jared's head, watches the camera readjust to the lighting, the flickering contrast. "I wouldn't lose sleep. I'm still mostly with you for your bangin' bod."
Jared laughs. "Good to know." He reaches up, covers the lens with his hand, tugs it down. "Hey, Jensen, come on. Put that away."
"Okay, okay." Jensen snaps the viewing window shut, lets the camera hang at his side, then leans in for a kiss. A firm press of lips, and Jensen hums into it, turns his head just so, nose brushing against Jared's cheek. He peeks, makes sure Jared's eyes are closed, before slowly lifting the camera back up, aiming it at the two of them.
Jared pushes him away with two fists wrapped up in Jensen's jacket, bursts into laughter. "Jesus Christ, Jensen."
Jensen laughs, too, eyes going comically wide. "Dude, how did you know?"
Jared shakes his head. He pushes the camera away again, raises an eyebrow pointedly at Jensen until Jensen clicks it off. "It's not that I really mind, but--" he shrugs. "Why the obsession?" He taps the lens.
Jensen takes a sip of his coffee. "I'm a few hours of footage away from what's going to be a pretty masterful documentary."
“Audiences the world over do find me riveting." Jared stands, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "The time has come for me to blow you off once again." He kisses Jensen quick. "Hey. Don't get too caught up, okay? Our best days are still ahead of us."
"That a promise?" Jensen asks.
****
Jensen's apartment does a pretty good impression of being furnished.
Jared's friend Brad had come out from South Carolina, who knows why. Because it's a Saturday, Jensen guesses. He looks good, born to wear the high and tight. He's one of many factors converging--Jensen had just survived the group project to end all group projects, and Jared had decided that he needed to remedy what he'd concluded was a severe failure to drink in his first semester of college--that led to a crush of people occupying Jensen's apartment. To be honest, Jensen wasn’t thrilled that the first night both him and Jared had free and clear in weeks was going to be spent in the company of dozens, but.
It's thinned out now, though. His couch is pressed back against the wall, his rug rolled up and leaned against a bookcase. The room lit up by Ikea, already soft yellow lights diffused even further through paper shades. Like you’re looking through a lens smeared with Vaseline.
Brad's shirtless, lying back on the couch in his jeans, an aluminum can sweating in his fist.
Jensen's drunk, he's pretty sure. It's the only reason he can think of as to why he's getting ready to wrestle Jared in the middle of his living room.
Brad whoops, and Jared grins, a stripe of teeth. He launches forward and Jensen braces himself, gets down low, ready for the impact even as it hits, digs his heels in against the slide back.
They grapple and there's a looseness to it, not having to worry where his hands land, feeling the jump of muscles under skin and damp cotton. It's fun until Jared locks his arms behind Jensen's knees, shoves, and Jensen falls flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him for a few shocked seconds.
His breath comes back with a flicker of anger, this hot rush behind Jensen's eyes, and Jensen grunts, twists Jared off of him, careless and violent, pins him down to the ground, a knee in Jared's gut, his forearm a shade too close to Jared's throat.
Jared laughs. He wheezes out a half-amused, "Shit, Jen."
Jensen eases up immediately, feels a sudden ache in his thighs. He lets himself go heavy on top of Jared, face pressed into Jared's shoulder.
Brad whistles. "The clash of titans."
Jared smells like beer, and sweat, and Old Spice; and Jensen bites Jared's shoulder, hard, makes him yelp. "Jesus! What was that for?"
The thing is, he doesn't want to forget. That he has teeth, and claws.
****
On Monday, Jensen swings by Jared's dorm room after his last class. He shoves open the door and finds Jared sitting on the floor, nose buried in a manual, packaging strewn around him.
"I got a new laptop," Jared says without looking up.
"Oh fuck this shit."
"Careful," Jared says.
Jensen shrugs off his backpack, tosses it high and toward a corner, finds satisfaction in the whump it makes at impact. He collapses onto Jared's bed, face-first. "I fucking hate when you get new electronics."
"That's okay," Jared says. "I love it enough for the both of us."
Jensen turns his head toward the wall, picks at the charred cotton where he had put out a joint in Jared's bedspread. They'd fought about that for a few days. He digs his fingers into the bristling stuffing.
"Holy shit," Jared says. "This is the motherfucking king of all laptops. I'm serious, Jensen." He rattles off some specs in this breathless tone of voice. "It's enough to make a man cry," he finishes.
Jensen turns his face into Jared's pillow. "If only it could give you a good blowjob," he says. "You'd finally have the perfect boyfriend."
"Hm," Jared says. "With the right attachment." Jensen can see the shrug Jared's committing, the nonchalant, almost-sincerity of his body language.
Jensen flips over onto his side, facing Jared, demands, "Are you going to suck my dick, or what? I have stuff to do."
Jared finally looks up, puzzled. He scans Jensen's face, and Jensen imagines the calculations buzzing, zeroes and ones behind Jared's eyes. Jared stands all the way up, bouncing on his toes a little, then timbers over onto Jensen, catching himself at the last second.
Jensen groans under the weight, one of Jared's hands wedging itself under Jensen's back, fingers cold where they slip under Jensen's shirt. "What happened to your old laptop?" Jensen asks.
Jared's face is pressed into Jensen's shoulder. "I left it at the library--"
"--Jesus, Jared--"
"--I went back for it like, two seconds later. But then the next week it kept crashing on me. I think some asshole put a virus on it."
Jensen draws in shallow breaths. Jared's cutting off the circulation to his thighs. "You downloaded some sketchy porn."
"No!" Jared says. "Disgusting."
Jensen laughs.
"Unrelated, if you're wondering what to get me for Arbor Day, a Rapidshare account would be sweet."
"We're not exchanging gifts on Arbor Day."
"Rapidshare Pro would mean I wouldn't have to suffer through a wait time when I'm in a hurry for my videos." Jared pauses. "My G-rated videos."
"Okay."
"That I download off the Internet. And are safe for work."
"Alright," Jensen says, smiling. He has his eyes wide open. He wonders if Jared's eyes are open, too. If he's studying the loops of thread comprising Jensen's shirt. "You need to take better care of your things."
"I take excellent care of you," Jared says.
"You're on your fourth iPod."
Jared groans. "And my twelfth pair of headphones, and my eighth water bottle, and my third pair of sunglasses." He lifts his head, stares accusingly. "And do you know how I know these specifics?" He points at Jensen's face.
Jensen rolls his eyes. "Be more responsible," he says.
"Wow," Jared says. "Okay. Message received." He doesn't move for a minute, maybe two. To prove he isn't stung, Jensen guesses, but eventually he rolls off, goes to his desk, putters around the room. Tries to avoid avoiding Jensen's eyes.
Jensen sprawls on Jared's bed, watches Jared pull off his shirt, scrub some deodorant under his arms, tug on a clean one.
When Jared's done distracting himself, he stands at the foot of the bed, one hand gripping the doorknob, swinging the door back and forth. "I'm irresponsible with those things because I know they can be replaced," he says, finally.
"Yeah," Jensen says. He sighs. "Yeah, okay."
The thing is, every once in a while, Jensen will flip the light switch in his apartment and his breath will catch, and he'll wait. To see if the lights come on.
One day, he wants to tell Jared, the light bulb will burn out and that'll be the last one.
****
Here's a stupid story:
Once, Jared was webcamming with his sister who was back in San Antonio and she lugged her computer out to the living room where their parents were watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and made them wave, and Jared's mom immediately sat up and pulled her hair back, and Jared's dad asked Megan where he was supposed to look, and Megan asked Jared if he'd booked his flight home for next weekend or not and then Jared turned to Jensen and rolled his eyes, grinning a little and his mom asked, "Who is that?"
Jensen froze where he was, just out of sight of the camera, tucked an elbow discreetly out of frame.
Jared lifted an eyebrow, then his laptop--brand new--and pointed it at Jensen. "This is Jensen. I told you about him."
Jensen tried to smile. It looked pretty bad, he could see it in the little window in the bottom right. But Jared's mom and sister beamed back at him, and Jared's dad nodded, and Jensen thought, 'I've known your son for ages and ages,' and he said, "Nice to meet you."
And then, later that night, while he was falling asleep back in his own apartment, he thought, 'They never met Jared,' and he got up from bed, and slid open the door to his shallow closet, and he sat in it. His jackets rippling around his head, empty sleeves on his shoulders.
****
Jensen's taking a shower. His eyes are closed as he leans back into the spray of water, washing the shampoo out of his hair. He scrubs one hand down his face, then blinks his eyes open to find Jared peering over the curtain of the shower, chin resting on the rod.
"Hey," Jared says. "I'm standing on four of your textbooks."
Jensen splashes water up at Jared. "When did you get back? How's the family?"
"They're fine," Jared says. "So I was thinking."
Jensen reaches over for the soap, rubs the bar of Ivory across his belly. "Yeah?"
"I'm super stoked for next year."
Jensen laughs. "Because second years have all the real fun?"
"No," Jared says. He beckons for the bar of soap and Jensen hands it over. Jared disappears, stepping down from his perch, tugs the shower curtain open just enough for his arms to reach through. He soaps up Jensen's back in broad circles, hands kneading at the muscles there. "I guess not next year specifically. I'm just excited to be with you."
Jensen laughs again, alert, a little anxious. "What?"
Jared's hands slide, smooth, across Jensen's neck. "I think we're just going to get better, you know? I'm kind of...looking forward to fighting more." He sounds happy. "And getting to that point where you're so fucking fed up with me, you don't know if I'm even worth it anymore, and then you decide I am. And I’ll keep getting better for you. So you can be sure of me."
Jensen stares down at his feet. The water going tepid against his skin. Steam rolling.
"And one night, I'm just going to blow up. Over something stupid, you know? You lost the screws to our bed during the move into our new place, even though I specifically told you to watch out for them. I even put them in a baggie. And I'm gonna fucking shout, 'Do you give a good goddamn about the words that come out of my mouth? Do you give a shit?'" Jared laughs. "And you're gonna say, 'I fucking left everything behind for you, motherfucker! What do you think?'"
Jensen clenches his hands.
"And I'll shut my dumbass mouth. Because you'll be right." Jared slides his arms around Jensen's waist. He presses his face into the space behind Jensen's ear, lips brushing over skin stretched over bone. "I love you," he says.
Jensen sighs. He feels every drop of water thundering down onto him. Pouring down his fingers, like he's the bed for rivers flowing. He leans back against Jared. "You're getting wet," he says.
****
"Hey," Jared says, during finals week. "So, you have nowhere to go over this longest of breaks. No one and nothing."
"Delightful," Jensen says.
"Come to my place!" Jared beams, arms spread wide. Attracting more attention than is entirely appropriate for a library.
"You know who I miss?" Jensen asks. "That Jared kid. Seventeen, yet to bloom. Sensitive. Thoughtful. Quiet."
"Yeah," Jared says. "You were a total pedo."
****
The house yawns across acres. Muddy with ells and additions. Jensen's never gotten to look at it from the outside before. You can see the way it grew; every room made for someone.
He fumbles through meeting Jared's family, then dinner. Soaks in this side of Jared: son and brother. By the time bedtime rolls around, he's exhausted. It's been a long day.
"Jensen," Jared's mom says. "Why don't you take Jared's room. JT, you can double up with Jeff tonight, can't you? Go on up, Jensen. Bathroom's on your right."
Jensen's chest starts buzzing at the foot of the stairs, and he takes them two at a time, up to Jared's bedroom. Opens the door. He's scared, which is stupid, but he is. He holds his breath flipping on the light.
"Hey," Jared says from behind him. "You alright?"
Jensen nods, but he doesn't open his mouth to reply, just walks over to the closet. He grips the knob, turns it--he's so sure--and pulls open the door to see only old sports gear. Jared's chin-up bar and spare sheets.
Jensen laughs, turns to face Jared, face hot. "Damn," he says.
Jared looks at him seriously, mouth twisting for a second before he smiles. "Foiled again," he says.
"I'm an idiot," Jensen says.
"If you're an idiot, so am I," Jared tells him. "I shove a letter under that door every time I'm home."
"Yeah?" Jensen laughs. "Saying what?"
Jared sits on the bed. "Just stuff." He shrugs; his shoulders, when they drop, sloping steeper than they've been. They're narrow again, the light from a bare bulb sending same old shadows across Jared's face when he smiles, small; and Jensen finds himself leaning against the frame of the closet door, staring at something familiar.
Dear to me, Jensen thinks. Amazing, in its own way, to know Jared still has the smile he first fell in love with, under all those changing features. Will always. He feels his gut punching up into high gear, this thrill slapping across the back of his skull. He launches himself at Jared, tackles him back onto the bed, pins Jared's arms up above his head. "Of all the doors," Jensen crows.
Jared snorts, beams up at him. "You're a fucking weirdo," he says.
Jensen raises an eyebrow. He puts his face to Jared's, noses brushing. "Scared?" he asks. His stomach flying.
****
They're in bed. Jared had been dozing in fits and starts, but he’s still for now, wrapped around Jensen, one hand up Jensen's shirt and resting over his chest. It's very, very dark. And Jensen is awake.
He's lucky. He can feel it in his bones, around every corner, in every beat of his heart. He grips Jared’s hand.
Just another second awake!
The end-ish. Behind door number two: a Jared POV, taken from the top.
In the end, Jensen doesn't really make a decision. He just--can't not see Jared any more. He misses him.
"So," Jensen says, "the floor workers have been refusing to cease and desist the formation of guilds, even at the company's express orders." He swings his arms back and forth, catches his fist in one hand. "It's just been eating up all my time."
"What you're telling me," Jared says carefully, "is that the long delay between your last visit and this one was caused by the noble cause of suppressing unionization?"
Jensen tuts. "If you think about it, what's good for the company is good for everybody."
Jared leans back in his desk chair, pushing his sweater's hood off his face and leaving his hair disheveled. "I'm not demanding romance, exactly," he says, "but capitalism trumping the question of requited love is a little cold-blooded, don't you think?"
"Is it requited?" Jensen asks. He grips his wrists behind his back, presses against the wall. He's nervous. He wishes he had brought a gift. Some sort of token to sweeten the deal.
Jared sighs, leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Maybe."
Jensen feels a fluttering in his stomach. The weight of something too heavy to take flight. "Maybe," he repeats.
Jared looks up at Jensen, kind of--demanding Jensen's gaze. He's chewing at his lip. "Is that okay?" he asks, shifting, and all of a sudden, under lamp light, he looks really young.
They're just kids.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "That's okay."
"It won't be forever," Jared says. "I want to--couldn't we practice it?" He stands up, smiling hopefully. He rubs at the side of his neck. "I could come to Monstropolis. You could show me around the Labyrinth, take me to that restaurant you were going on about."
"Oh, no," Jensen says, immediately. The CDA would crack down before Jared could even leave the company headquarters. He sees the smile dim on Jared's face and quickly adds, "But we could go to dinner next weekend, if you want. I've been dreaming about gyros. Late, maybe."
Jared nods. "Yeah, that sounds good. A movie? We might as well make it a classic first date. Are you gonna be able to get away?"
"Yes," Jensen says. He's confident. "Curfews are for pussies, anyway."
"Sweet," Jared says. "Meanwhile, it's one, which means lights out for me."
"Bedtimes are for prospective boyfriends," Jensen clarifies.
"Ah," Jared laughs. "Noted."
****
Sully's still in his office when Jensen gets back from his first date with Jared. The big guy’s got a tie slung around his neck, the neckwear decorated with cartoon kids screaming, mouths so big you can see their uvulas.
"Hey," Jensen says. "You're wearing the tie I got you."
Sully looks up from his desk, smiles. "Needed my lucky one today."
Jensen grins, then takes a good look at Sully. His red eyes and matted fur. "You look tired," Jensen says. He walks over, pulls the folder Sully's studying over to himself, glances through it. He closes it firmly. "This can wait. Clock out."
Sully nods, pushes back from his desk. He stretches, stifling a yawn. "Wait," he says. "Hey. How did your big night go?"
Jensen groans. "Don't ask."
"That bad?" Sully asks.
Jensen falls into the chair across from Sully, feels the leather creak under him. He thinks over the way he hadn't been able to stop noting all the tiny differences from home. The sudden paralysis at seeing Jared in a light that wasn't warm and dim and close. "It was overwhelming. I think we were both nervous."
"Hm," Sully says.
Jensen kicks his feet up onto Sully's desk and Sully bats at them, tutting under his breath. Jensen grins, swings them back onto the ground.
"It won't always be that way," Sully tells him.
"You think?" Jensen grunts out a disgusted noise. "I just-I don’t know where we stand. I feel like I know squat. Nothing about anything."
"Be easier on yourself," Sully says, gentle. He stands, grabs his hat from where it's hanging, picks up his briefcase. "Alright, boyo. Let's go home. You can tell me all about it on our way." He waits at the door, holding it open.
Jensen stands. He slides his hands into his pockets, looks Sully in the eye. "Am I making the right choices?" he asks.
Sully puts on his hat, touches the brim. He shuffles his feet. “I don’t want you to carry any regret,” he finally says. Every bone in his body an earnest one.
****
On their fifth date, Jared says, "You think I'm loose, don't you?"
Jensen is used to Jared's non-sequiturs by now; he's learned to catch them as they go flying by. "Yes," Jensen says. "It's in the swing of your hips."
Jared laughs, flicks a balled-up straw wrapper at Jensen's face, hits him square between the eyes, and Jensen thinks to himself, 'Bullseye.'
They’re behind a fast food place, milkshakes still in hand, detritus of a quick, late-night bite. The parking lot is empty, the light from inside the restaurant only making it seem darker, here, outside.
“How long will it take to walk back to your house?” Jensen asks.
“Not long.” Jared leans against the short stone wall limning the lot. He pats the space next to him. “You want to sit? We don’t have to hurry unless you want to.”
Jensen hops up onto the wall, kicks his heels off the stone.
“Could I-“ Jared starts. He shakes his head. “Are you cold?”
Jensen shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”
Jared clears his throat, pushes off the wall. He moves to stand between Jensen’s legs, his hands settling on Jensen’s knees, making them go still and tense. Jensen can feel the heat of his palms.
“You’re planning on kissing me, right?” Jensen asks.
Jared lets out this startled bubble of laughter, licks his bottom lip. Jared leans in, and Jensen must close his eyes then, because he’s surprised when Jared’s mouth is suddenly against his. This tentative slide of lips, and Jensen shivers. He is cold.
Jared pulls away, and when Jensen can bring himself to open his eyes, Jared is still close, shadows on his face, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Was that okay? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Jensen scrubs at his face with both hands, then reaches out to keep Jared from moving away, grips the shirt at Jared’s sides, fists pressed to where Jared is soft. He leans his forehead on Jared’s shoulder, laughing, a little embarrassed. “I kind of thought I’d-I don’t know. I always pictured hearing music when I imagined this. You with me.”
Jared’s quiet for a while, and Jensen doesn’t feel ready to look up, to see his face. He presses his eyes into the curve that slides up into Jared’s neck. Jared’s moving under him, but it’s only when Jensen feels Jared’s touch against his ear that he looks up to find himself being kissed again, an earbud slipped into his ear, voices singing, drums, guitar, a whole chorus soaring with melody; and Jensen touches Jared’s throat, kisses him with every bit inside him breaking open just the tiniest bit.
When it’s done, Jared’s smiling. Headphones still connecting them, his hand curving around Jensen’s calf. “And now?” he asks. This joyful noise in Jensen’s ears.
****
Jensen's not exactly focused, back at home. Still, Monsters, Incorporated is sort of a family business and he does feel a sense of responsibility towards it, if not strictly a passion.
But when Sully comes by and says, "I let the guilds form," Jensen's not surprised. He's spaced out in enough meetings to warrant news he isn't prepared for.
Jensen nods. "Okay." He knows Sully doesn't make decisions lightly.
"It'll keep us honest," Sully says.
"You're honest."
Sully smiles. He looks a little tired. "I'd like to be, at least." He pats Jensen's shoulder. "Hey. You've been floating around, head in the clouds."
Jensen flushes. "I'm sorry."
Sully's smile grows. "Don't be. It's nice, watching your toes skim the ground." His hand is heavy and kind on Jensen's shoulder. "Can you be a little more careful?" he asks. He seems so tired.
****
"I like Drake a lot," Jared says confidently, but then he smiles down at his burger before looking up at Jensen. "Er."
Jensen shrugs. "I have no idea who that is."
Jared laughs. "Yeah." He takes a bite, wipes away a smear of ketchup at the corner of his mouth, swallows. "He's this rapper. I don't know. I'm probably too square to like him, but I do."
"Only squares use the word square," Jensen agrees. He stretches his legs out under the table, props one foot up against the seat just next to Jared's thigh.
Jared smiles. "This is fun," he says, and Jensen beams back, doesn't even bother to try to dial it down.
It's a nice little moment, interrupted by a guy in a school sweater dropping into the booth next to Jared, slapping a hand on Jared's chest before stealing a few fries. "Buddy boy," he hoots.
Jared doesn't flash too much annoyance, just makes room and introductions. "Uh. Brad, this is Jensen, Jensen, Brad."
"Hi," Jensen says. He pulls his feet back to his side of the table, straightens his back. It's the first time he's met one of Jared's friends.
Brad looks between Jensen and Jared, wiping the grease off his fingers onto a paper napkin. "You two on a date? Are you the reason Jared keeps blowing off Lisa Portadero, who, by the way, is still completely hot for it."
"Jesus," Jared says.
"I told you we should go somewhere classier," Jensen points out. "I'm not so sure you appreciate my true value as a person."
"This is totally a date," Brad decides. He slings an arm around Jared's shoulders, thumps Jared's chest again. "So what is it you like so much about my boy Jay?" he asks Jensen.
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
"You're right, unfair. This is a pretty uncomfortable situation for you." Brad turns to Jared. "Jared? Why hide Jensen under a bushel? He seems older and patronizing. You know how much I dig that."
Jensen smirks.
Jared groans, presses the heel of one hand against his eye. "Fuck, Brad." He sighs, drops his hand, smiles, tired, over at Jensen. "I just wanted to keep him to myself for a while," he says. It comes out quiet and fond and Jensen feels the warmth of it for days, a fire lit on the hearth.
****
Roz is waiting the next time Jensen sneaks through Jared's door. She has on her CDA vest. Not a good sign.
"Are things about to go very bad?" Jensen asks.
"It depends on your definition," Roz says. She adjusts her glasses. "You stepped in some mud. I'm going to help you clean up."
****
Jensen has just enough time to dash strokes across a piece of scrap paper, slip it under Jared's door with a knock.
Jared, it says, could you be my forever girl?
Jensen paces. He can't really--he doesn't have days. He doesn't even have hours. But this is a decision he can't make by himself, and it's almost soothing, to know that there are more hands and hearts involved in this than his own. He whispers out a quick, "Please," staring hard at the crack of light underneath the door.
He puts a hand on the doorknob. He touches the button that would cut off the power, making bright lights go dark.
He presses his fingertips to the moldings of the door, like he could feel Jared in the points of heat.
A lined piece of notebook paper slides between his feet. Jensen picks it up, sits on the floor in front of the gateway. He reads:
Stay.
****
Roz is sitting across from Jensen, sheafs of papers stacked on the desk between them. She's reading through contracts and exit agreements in a low monotone, and Jensen adjusts his grip on the pen Sully had given to him when he'd first started working at Monsters, Inc. It's a familiar, balanced weight in his hand.
Sully had been upset; Jensen could tell. He'd hugged Jensen tight, lifted him up off his feet, and hadn't said much of anything.
"I'll miss you," Jensen had said, and Sully had just nodded with tears in his eyes, patted Jensen's face with one paw like he'd used to, when Jensen was still a little boy and he could still rest his whole face in the pad of Sully's hand.
Leaving is even harder than Jensen thought it would be.
"Your school records will be intact. You should be able to enroll in grad school, if you can finish out some credits beforehand. The papers are in triplicate--a true joy, triplicate," Roz says. "Sign here."
Jensen signs. "Who knew the paperwork would be ready and waiting for something like this," he tries to joke.
Roz doesn't look up. "Be glad you weren’t around when Mab had Fairy Acquisitions doing brisk business. You're not the first. You won't be the last." She points. "Initial here."
Jensen scrawls letters.
Roz picks up the papers, taps the ends against the desk, straightening them. The fluorescent light above is humming, a rippling pond of white noise. She licks her finger, flips a page over, then turns it back toward Jensen. She frames the stack with her hands, looks over the rims of her glasses. "Now. Are you sure about all this?" she asks. "There won't be any going back."
Jensen thinks what it would be like, to see Jared's door get shredded. To be in the middle of a working bay at Monsters Incorporated, watching a machine spit out splinters. "Yes," he says. "I'm sure." He thinks he's sure.
Roz pushes her glasses up. She points. "Sign here."
****
"You're just gonna leave?" Mike says. "Without so much as a kiss goodbye, a 'thanks-for-all-you've-done'?"
Jensen gets down on one knee, wraps his arms around Mike as best he can. He kisses the top of Mike's head. "Goodbye. Thanks for all you've done."
"I'm not okay with this," Mike says, "I have to say it. I know it's not like me to put myself out there, but it's out of decency and courtesy that I say I'm not happy. Too much is changing around here. You know the guilds are a thorn in my side, don't you? Who will draw it delicately from my injured paw?"
"I'm not happy either." He hugs Mike again. "Don't cry on me, okay? This is a new shirt."
Mike pushes him away with his skinny arms, blinks his glassy eye a few times. "It makes you look like a clown."
Sully is standing a few feet away, in front of a couple CDA agents. He has his arms crossed, face shuttered.
Jensen opens the door. He puts one foot over the threshold, looks back. Sully lifts one hand, fingers unfurling, and Jensen can feel the stretch of every one, like keys turning in five locks, laying something vulnerable in his chest bare.
"Bye,” he says, and Jensen racks his brain, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say.
****
It's only after the door closes that Jensen realizes he'd forgotten to tell Sully that he'd moved the files for the arbitration with Imaginary Friends, Ltd. to the top drawer of his desk. He jumps forward, throws the door open, but there's nothing but Jared's winter coats, a baseball bat, a few spare blankets.
"Hey," Jared says from behind him. "You okay?"
Jensen nods. He turns inside the closet, arms out, measuring the span of it, then shakes his head, hard, strides out. He pulls Jared into a hug, arms wrapped around Jared's waist, face pressed into Jared's neck.
Jared's hands slide up and down Jensen's back. "It's okay," he says. His voice rumbles in his chest. "Jeff cried like a bitch when we moved him out to college."
Jensen snorts. He breathes Jared in.
"Maybe you can visit," Jared says after a while. His thumb is rubbing circles into Jensen's lower back.
Jensen sighs. He pulls away from Jared, runs his hands through his hair, finding his composure. He settles back into the edges of his body, lets himself fill out. "Naw," he says. "They're probably shredding as we speak."
So this is growing up, Jensen thinks. A winnowing down of the paths he can choose to walk.
****
aced my midterms. it's strnge, this sea of my own genius. college the flimsiest of watergoing crafts, still unsure upon which distant shore of greatness i'll land. like edison in his youth, or Chingis Khan, terrtories yet to be conquered
Jensen rolls his eyes and smirks, holding his phone under his desk in the library. He's pretty sure Jared could write a novel in text form, easy. He puts the phone facedown next to his textbook. He's still got two more exams to go, and he's got a paper he needs to bash out if he wants to fulfill the last of his prerequisites. He's just slid back into study mode when his phone vibrates again.
bt-dubs, that last text was pretty good.
Jensen laughs.
****
He still wasn't sure how much of it was Roz greasing wheels, and how much was luck. Jared had been ready to head out to college in Austin in a few weeks, and Jensen had just gone ahead, his transfer mapped out, an apartment squared away.
It's ferociously easy, really, to change your entire life. You just put it on like anything new, one leg at a time.
****
It's strange, though, all the little, unexpected ways you shift. Adaptations you never saw coming. Jensen catalogs: photos, voicemails, ticket stubs. He buys a video camera, cheap, from this chick who lives two floors up from Jared.
"You know you're getting quiet," Jared says, looking up into the lens.
Jensen reframes him, the broad torso filling up the left side of the shot; the coffee shop rundown and full of faded warmth in the background. "Am I?" he says.
Jared grins, the sun glaring through the window behind him. He's all shadow. "I'm starting to worry you have hidden depths."
Jensen stands, moves until the sun is blocked by Jared's head, watches the camera readjust to the lighting, the flickering contrast. "I wouldn't lose sleep. I'm still mostly with you for your bangin' bod."
Jared laughs. "Good to know." He reaches up, covers the lens with his hand, tugs it down. "Hey, Jensen, come on. Put that away."
"Okay, okay." Jensen snaps the viewing window shut, lets the camera hang at his side, then leans in for a kiss. A firm press of lips, and Jensen hums into it, turns his head just so, nose brushing against Jared's cheek. He peeks, makes sure Jared's eyes are closed, before slowly lifting the camera back up, aiming it at the two of them.
Jared pushes him away with two fists wrapped up in Jensen's jacket, bursts into laughter. "Jesus Christ, Jensen."
Jensen laughs, too, eyes going comically wide. "Dude, how did you know?"
Jared shakes his head. He pushes the camera away again, raises an eyebrow pointedly at Jensen until Jensen clicks it off. "It's not that I really mind, but--" he shrugs. "Why the obsession?" He taps the lens.
Jensen takes a sip of his coffee. "I'm a few hours of footage away from what's going to be a pretty masterful documentary."
“Audiences the world over do find me riveting." Jared stands, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "The time has come for me to blow you off once again." He kisses Jensen quick. "Hey. Don't get too caught up, okay? Our best days are still ahead of us."
"That a promise?" Jensen asks.
****
Jensen's apartment does a pretty good impression of being furnished.
Jared's friend Brad had come out from South Carolina, who knows why. Because it's a Saturday, Jensen guesses. He looks good, born to wear the high and tight. He's one of many factors converging--Jensen had just survived the group project to end all group projects, and Jared had decided that he needed to remedy what he'd concluded was a severe failure to drink in his first semester of college--that led to a crush of people occupying Jensen's apartment. To be honest, Jensen wasn’t thrilled that the first night both him and Jared had free and clear in weeks was going to be spent in the company of dozens, but.
It's thinned out now, though. His couch is pressed back against the wall, his rug rolled up and leaned against a bookcase. The room lit up by Ikea, already soft yellow lights diffused even further through paper shades. Like you’re looking through a lens smeared with Vaseline.
Brad's shirtless, lying back on the couch in his jeans, an aluminum can sweating in his fist.
Jensen's drunk, he's pretty sure. It's the only reason he can think of as to why he's getting ready to wrestle Jared in the middle of his living room.
Brad whoops, and Jared grins, a stripe of teeth. He launches forward and Jensen braces himself, gets down low, ready for the impact even as it hits, digs his heels in against the slide back.
They grapple and there's a looseness to it, not having to worry where his hands land, feeling the jump of muscles under skin and damp cotton. It's fun until Jared locks his arms behind Jensen's knees, shoves, and Jensen falls flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him for a few shocked seconds.
His breath comes back with a flicker of anger, this hot rush behind Jensen's eyes, and Jensen grunts, twists Jared off of him, careless and violent, pins him down to the ground, a knee in Jared's gut, his forearm a shade too close to Jared's throat.
Jared laughs. He wheezes out a half-amused, "Shit, Jen."
Jensen eases up immediately, feels a sudden ache in his thighs. He lets himself go heavy on top of Jared, face pressed into Jared's shoulder.
Brad whistles. "The clash of titans."
Jared smells like beer, and sweat, and Old Spice; and Jensen bites Jared's shoulder, hard, makes him yelp. "Jesus! What was that for?"
The thing is, he doesn't want to forget. That he has teeth, and claws.
****
On Monday, Jensen swings by Jared's dorm room after his last class. He shoves open the door and finds Jared sitting on the floor, nose buried in a manual, packaging strewn around him.
"I got a new laptop," Jared says without looking up.
"Oh fuck this shit."
"Careful," Jared says.
Jensen shrugs off his backpack, tosses it high and toward a corner, finds satisfaction in the whump it makes at impact. He collapses onto Jared's bed, face-first. "I fucking hate when you get new electronics."
"That's okay," Jared says. "I love it enough for the both of us."
Jensen turns his head toward the wall, picks at the charred cotton where he had put out a joint in Jared's bedspread. They'd fought about that for a few days. He digs his fingers into the bristling stuffing.
"Holy shit," Jared says. "This is the motherfucking king of all laptops. I'm serious, Jensen." He rattles off some specs in this breathless tone of voice. "It's enough to make a man cry," he finishes.
Jensen turns his face into Jared's pillow. "If only it could give you a good blowjob," he says. "You'd finally have the perfect boyfriend."
"Hm," Jared says. "With the right attachment." Jensen can see the shrug Jared's committing, the nonchalant, almost-sincerity of his body language.
Jensen flips over onto his side, facing Jared, demands, "Are you going to suck my dick, or what? I have stuff to do."
Jared finally looks up, puzzled. He scans Jensen's face, and Jensen imagines the calculations buzzing, zeroes and ones behind Jared's eyes. Jared stands all the way up, bouncing on his toes a little, then timbers over onto Jensen, catching himself at the last second.
Jensen groans under the weight, one of Jared's hands wedging itself under Jensen's back, fingers cold where they slip under Jensen's shirt. "What happened to your old laptop?" Jensen asks.
Jared's face is pressed into Jensen's shoulder. "I left it at the library--"
"--Jesus, Jared--"
"--I went back for it like, two seconds later. But then the next week it kept crashing on me. I think some asshole put a virus on it."
Jensen draws in shallow breaths. Jared's cutting off the circulation to his thighs. "You downloaded some sketchy porn."
"No!" Jared says. "Disgusting."
Jensen laughs.
"Unrelated, if you're wondering what to get me for Arbor Day, a Rapidshare account would be sweet."
"We're not exchanging gifts on Arbor Day."
"Rapidshare Pro would mean I wouldn't have to suffer through a wait time when I'm in a hurry for my videos." Jared pauses. "My G-rated videos."
"Okay."
"That I download off the Internet. And are safe for work."
"Alright," Jensen says, smiling. He has his eyes wide open. He wonders if Jared's eyes are open, too. If he's studying the loops of thread comprising Jensen's shirt. "You need to take better care of your things."
"I take excellent care of you," Jared says.
"You're on your fourth iPod."
Jared groans. "And my twelfth pair of headphones, and my eighth water bottle, and my third pair of sunglasses." He lifts his head, stares accusingly. "And do you know how I know these specifics?" He points at Jensen's face.
Jensen rolls his eyes. "Be more responsible," he says.
"Wow," Jared says. "Okay. Message received." He doesn't move for a minute, maybe two. To prove he isn't stung, Jensen guesses, but eventually he rolls off, goes to his desk, putters around the room. Tries to avoid avoiding Jensen's eyes.
Jensen sprawls on Jared's bed, watches Jared pull off his shirt, scrub some deodorant under his arms, tug on a clean one.
When Jared's done distracting himself, he stands at the foot of the bed, one hand gripping the doorknob, swinging the door back and forth. "I'm irresponsible with those things because I know they can be replaced," he says, finally.
"Yeah," Jensen says. He sighs. "Yeah, okay."
The thing is, every once in a while, Jensen will flip the light switch in his apartment and his breath will catch, and he'll wait. To see if the lights come on.
One day, he wants to tell Jared, the light bulb will burn out and that'll be the last one.
****
Here's a stupid story:
Once, Jared was webcamming with his sister who was back in San Antonio and she lugged her computer out to the living room where their parents were watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and made them wave, and Jared's mom immediately sat up and pulled her hair back, and Jared's dad asked Megan where he was supposed to look, and Megan asked Jared if he'd booked his flight home for next weekend or not and then Jared turned to Jensen and rolled his eyes, grinning a little and his mom asked, "Who is that?"
Jensen froze where he was, just out of sight of the camera, tucked an elbow discreetly out of frame.
Jared lifted an eyebrow, then his laptop--brand new--and pointed it at Jensen. "This is Jensen. I told you about him."
Jensen tried to smile. It looked pretty bad, he could see it in the little window in the bottom right. But Jared's mom and sister beamed back at him, and Jared's dad nodded, and Jensen thought, 'I've known your son for ages and ages,' and he said, "Nice to meet you."
And then, later that night, while he was falling asleep back in his own apartment, he thought, 'They never met Jared,' and he got up from bed, and slid open the door to his shallow closet, and he sat in it. His jackets rippling around his head, empty sleeves on his shoulders.
****
Jensen's taking a shower. His eyes are closed as he leans back into the spray of water, washing the shampoo out of his hair. He scrubs one hand down his face, then blinks his eyes open to find Jared peering over the curtain of the shower, chin resting on the rod.
"Hey," Jared says. "I'm standing on four of your textbooks."
Jensen splashes water up at Jared. "When did you get back? How's the family?"
"They're fine," Jared says. "So I was thinking."
Jensen reaches over for the soap, rubs the bar of Ivory across his belly. "Yeah?"
"I'm super stoked for next year."
Jensen laughs. "Because second years have all the real fun?"
"No," Jared says. He beckons for the bar of soap and Jensen hands it over. Jared disappears, stepping down from his perch, tugs the shower curtain open just enough for his arms to reach through. He soaps up Jensen's back in broad circles, hands kneading at the muscles there. "I guess not next year specifically. I'm just excited to be with you."
Jensen laughs again, alert, a little anxious. "What?"
Jared's hands slide, smooth, across Jensen's neck. "I think we're just going to get better, you know? I'm kind of...looking forward to fighting more." He sounds happy. "And getting to that point where you're so fucking fed up with me, you don't know if I'm even worth it anymore, and then you decide I am. And I’ll keep getting better for you. So you can be sure of me."
Jensen stares down at his feet. The water going tepid against his skin. Steam rolling.
"And one night, I'm just going to blow up. Over something stupid, you know? You lost the screws to our bed during the move into our new place, even though I specifically told you to watch out for them. I even put them in a baggie. And I'm gonna fucking shout, 'Do you give a good goddamn about the words that come out of my mouth? Do you give a shit?'" Jared laughs. "And you're gonna say, 'I fucking left everything behind for you, motherfucker! What do you think?'"
Jensen clenches his hands.
"And I'll shut my dumbass mouth. Because you'll be right." Jared slides his arms around Jensen's waist. He presses his face into the space behind Jensen's ear, lips brushing over skin stretched over bone. "I love you," he says.
Jensen sighs. He feels every drop of water thundering down onto him. Pouring down his fingers, like he's the bed for rivers flowing. He leans back against Jared. "You're getting wet," he says.
****
"Hey," Jared says, during finals week. "So, you have nowhere to go over this longest of breaks. No one and nothing."
"Delightful," Jensen says.
"Come to my place!" Jared beams, arms spread wide. Attracting more attention than is entirely appropriate for a library.
"You know who I miss?" Jensen asks. "That Jared kid. Seventeen, yet to bloom. Sensitive. Thoughtful. Quiet."
"Yeah," Jared says. "You were a total pedo."
****
The house yawns across acres. Muddy with ells and additions. Jensen's never gotten to look at it from the outside before. You can see the way it grew; every room made for someone.
He fumbles through meeting Jared's family, then dinner. Soaks in this side of Jared: son and brother. By the time bedtime rolls around, he's exhausted. It's been a long day.
"Jensen," Jared's mom says. "Why don't you take Jared's room. JT, you can double up with Jeff tonight, can't you? Go on up, Jensen. Bathroom's on your right."
Jensen's chest starts buzzing at the foot of the stairs, and he takes them two at a time, up to Jared's bedroom. Opens the door. He's scared, which is stupid, but he is. He holds his breath flipping on the light.
"Hey," Jared says from behind him. "You alright?"
Jensen nods, but he doesn't open his mouth to reply, just walks over to the closet. He grips the knob, turns it--he's so sure--and pulls open the door to see only old sports gear. Jared's chin-up bar and spare sheets.
Jensen laughs, turns to face Jared, face hot. "Damn," he says.
Jared looks at him seriously, mouth twisting for a second before he smiles. "Foiled again," he says.
"I'm an idiot," Jensen says.
"If you're an idiot, so am I," Jared tells him. "I shove a letter under that door every time I'm home."
"Yeah?" Jensen laughs. "Saying what?"
Jared sits on the bed. "Just stuff." He shrugs; his shoulders, when they drop, sloping steeper than they've been. They're narrow again, the light from a bare bulb sending same old shadows across Jared's face when he smiles, small; and Jensen finds himself leaning against the frame of the closet door, staring at something familiar.
Dear to me, Jensen thinks. Amazing, in its own way, to know Jared still has the smile he first fell in love with, under all those changing features. Will always. He feels his gut punching up into high gear, this thrill slapping across the back of his skull. He launches himself at Jared, tackles him back onto the bed, pins Jared's arms up above his head. "Of all the doors," Jensen crows.
Jared snorts, beams up at him. "You're a fucking weirdo," he says.
Jensen raises an eyebrow. He puts his face to Jared's, noses brushing. "Scared?" he asks. His stomach flying.
****
They're in bed. Jared had been dozing in fits and starts, but he’s still for now, wrapped around Jensen, one hand up Jensen's shirt and resting over his chest. It's very, very dark. And Jensen is awake.
He's lucky. He can feel it in his bones, around every corner, in every beat of his heart. He grips Jared’s hand.
Just another second awake!
The end-ish. Behind door number two: a Jared POV, taken from the top.