.0074 - Catch Me As I Fall

[jojothecr]

Jensen/Jared
7,229 words
Warning: post!violence
Teaser: “These are yours,” he breathes, setting Jared’s fingers to where they’ve already been printed, where they seem to belong. “The only ones I wanna keep.”

Kicking the door of the fridge closed, Jared sets the carton of orange juice on the kitchen unit, and reaches for the glass on the top shelf. Murmuring along with the radio, he realizes that he's, quite unsuccessfully really, trying to calm down his growing panic.

He can feel the shift of the air, the sudden change in the atmosphere that’s undoubtedly been there every single morning since Jensen had moved in, but he’s never really noticed, never paid any attention to it. Now, he senses it so strongly he doesn’t understand how he could have ever missed it. A slight vibration runs down his spine and makes the hairs at the back of his neck tingle, even before any sound reaches his ears, before Jensen’s bare feet pad across the tiled floor in the hall. His steps are audibly slow, careful, even limping a little.

The coffee machine makes a little beeping, startling noise, and it drags Jared from his musing, just as the threshold creaks slightly under Jensen’s weight.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles with a yawn, his voice low and thick from sleep, and yet rough with the lack of it.

“Hey.” Jared replies automatically, before he turns around and his eyes catch and slide down the picture of violence standing in the door, painted upon Jensen’s face and arms, everywhere Jared can see, and beyond.

For a moment, in the disorientated state of mind that teeters on the edge between sleep and awareness, he thought it had just been a dream. Just one of the long string of nightmares that tickled his mind from time to time. He had supposed, hoped, that the whole previous night, maybe just the one particular moment, hadn’t happened.

That moment in the darkness while he’d waited, the engine running, making his fingers vibrate on the steering wheel. A movement caught by the corner of his eye that made him turn his head and gaze into the shadows of the back street, trying to see more than he could. A group of people and one chassis in between. A struggle, hardly a fight, just an endeavor by the victim to remain standing and avoid most of the punches aimed at their head.

There was no one around, just cars passing by and closed shops, and Jared, waiting in the SUV for Jensen, to pick him up when the meeting with his agent finished. Being tall and quite strong was no advantage against that many enemies, but Jared had to do something, so he blew the horn of his car, which earned him not quite a pleased reaction from the other drivers, but fortunately put an end to the scrimmage.

The fighters took off, leaving a dark figure behind and on the ground. The shadow stood up shakily before Jared got close enough to help, and using the brick wall for support, started to stumble out of there. Then the light of the streetlamp fell upon the stranger, illuminating and giving him a face - beautiful, bloodied, dirty, and well too known... and Jared’s heart stopped with horror, and his feet quite possibly melted into the pavement. Hours must have passed, but maybe only seconds, before he moved, finally managed a step forward to help, to keep the beaten body from falling back to the concrete.

“Huh?” Jared asks intelligently, when Jensen’s voice cuts through his thoughts and his bandaged hand waves in front of Jared’s memory clouded vision.

“Can I get a coffee?” Jensen repeats, his head slightly tilted to point to the coffee machine Jared’s blocking the access to.

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he replies, absent-minded, stepping aside. “Sorry.”

Frowning, he watches as Jensen reaches for the pot and raises it above his cup, his left hand shaking visibly, making the glass tinkle against the rim, his lower lip tugged in between his teeth with the effort not to spill a drip, not to drop it.

“Let me,” he offers, pulling it from Jensen’s grip before he can even grumble in protest, unable to stop himself from flinching when his fingers brush against the back of Jensen’s hand.

“Thanks,” Jensen sighs, visibly annoyed at the help he can’t really refuse, and leans against the counter, running his fingers through his damp hair to try and settle the tousled, towel-crumpled spikes.

“Feeling any better?” Jared questions as he glances up at Jensen nervously, not even trying to disguise, or reduce, the undertow of worry seeping into his voice.

A mild nod of his head, and a small but crooked smile, “I’m fine.”

“Right”, Jared utters ironically, sliding the cup across the counter back to Jensen.

A few drops follow the trail, leaving a dark smear behind, and Jensen reaches for the paper towels to wipe it away. He leans inadvertently against Jared’s side with the movement, making him suck in a startled breath, and incline to the opposite side. But even if Jensen notices, he doesn’t say a word and finishes the task at hand, throwing the dirtied towel into the bin. Then he picks up his cup and moves limply to the table, “I’m fine, really.”

Grabbing his juice and a bowl of cereals, Jared sits down at the table opposite Jensen. “That’s what you’re saying,” he says. “But I see something else... I see pain. Bruises and broken bones. I see cuts and scratches.”

“And, as usual, you’re exaggerating,” Jensen states with a forced grin and a wave of his hand, picking up the newspaper and flipping through the pages quickly until he finds the cross-word puzzle. He fishes his silver pen from the can that contains pencils and ballpoints, only half of them actually useful, and holding it rather recklessly, albeit resolutely, in between his index and middle finger, starts solving the cross-word, plainly indicating that this is a topic he doesn’t want to discuss anymore.

Shaking his head at Jensen’s stubbornness, Jared heaves a sigh and buries his spoon into his breakfast, scooping the milk and pouring it on his cereals, over and over, trying to focus on the here and now, instead of replaying what happened the day before.

But it’s just the man in front of him, the stitches on his perfectly shaped eyebrow, and the sealed cut on his lower lip. The dark blue, nearly black, shade of the skin around his swollen eye, the cast on his right hand clasping his broken wrist, all the bruises and small cuts scattered all over his body, that keep bringing back the image, the fear, and the unbelievable fact that it did happen. To Jensen of all people.

“I’m fine.” That’s what Jensen had said also the night before, right before he’d sunk, boneless, into Jared’s arms as his knees gave way. His head was spinning as they were making their way back to Jared’s car through the deserted streets.

The injuries, highlighted and enhanced with smears of dirt and blood, dry and fresh, slipping over Jensen’s eye and into his mouth, dripping onto his T-shirt and jeans, looked much worse than they really were, although they were probably the most terrible ones Jared had ever seen.

After ninety, endless minutes in the hospital, and another obviously completely pointless hour at the police station, they were finally allowed to go home. Jensen looked okay, considering, and he kept repeating that he was okay, saying it so convincingly that Jared started to believe him, which, as it turned out later, was a mistake.

The breakfast half eaten, more likely out of habit than real hunger or appetite, Jared breaks the unusual, almost unheard of silence. “Do you... do you have any news?”

The end of the pen clasped between his teeth, Jensen looks up from the almost filled cross-word in confusion, a pensive frown on his face. “Huh?”

“The police,” Jared clarifies, chasing the few remaining pieces of cereal around the edge of the bowl, first this way, then the other, instead of returning Jensen’s waiting gaze. “They didn’t ...call, I assume.”

“No,” Jensen shakes his head, taking the pen out of his mouth. “I don’t really think they will.”

“Why not?” Jared dares to look up.

“It was just a random incident,” Jensen shrugs before he turns his eyes away, staring out of the window and watching as Sadie and Harley chase each other across the dewy lawn. “Random street. Random guys... They’re not gonna find them. Forget it.”

“But they attacked you.”

Jensen snorts humorlessly, looking back at Jared. “I kinda noticed.”

“They deserve to be punished,” Jared murmurs, as he grabs the spoon in his fist and shoves it back into the bowl with considerable force, aiming for a red, milk soaked, triangle-shaped piece of cereal, only to end up splashing the milk onto the table and Jensen’s newspapers. “I’d kill them if I could.”

“Fortunately, you can’t,” Jensen scowls, pulling the bowl out of Jared’s reach before he can completely trash it. Two dogs breaking the dishes on an almost daily basis seem to be enough. “You wouldn’t be any better than them then.”

“Jensen,” Jared starts with a sigh, and then trails off.

He intends to say more, to protest against Jensen’s silent surrender, but Jensen’s tired eyes flicker with a quiet request to just let it go, and preferably just completely drop the subject matter, and Jared succumbs, nodding. “No breakfast?” He notices that Jensen’s still nursing his cup, now empty and stained with coffee, looking a bit useless, but that he hasn’t eaten anything.

“Not really hungry,” Jensen replies, hissing in pain a millisecond later, when he moves his foot under the table to sit up a little better, and his cracked ankle connects with the solid wooden leg. Jared winces in sympathy.

“Does it hurt? I mean... beside that? Somewhere? Something?”

“No,” Jensen answers, rather unconvincingly, as he shimmies on the chair, outspread hand pressed against his wounded ribs to spare himself more pain.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

Jensen sighs and rests his uninjured hand on the table, rising up to his feet slowly. “Do we have some more coffee?”

The chair screeches across the floor and then lands upon the sepia tiles with an ear-splitting thud as Jared swiftly jumps from the table. “Stay. I’ll bring it.”

“Alright, dude,” Jensen looks startled. “Just... in one piece if that’s possible.”

“Oops.” Jared picks up the chair again and gathers Jensen’s cup and his own dishes, walking over to the kitchen counter. “I always thought that Vancouver was safe,” he ponders aloud, pouring coffee for both of them. He’s unable to shake the topic off, to stop thinking about what happened. And could have happened.

“Like any other town, I guess,” Jensen replies, his voice slightly muffled as he’s returned to the cross-word again, resting his chin on his hand. “Unless you’re lucky enough to meet drunken fans of a team that’s just managed to lose.”

“That’s crazy,” Jared states as he sets the cup in front of Jensen, who mouths thank you, and sits back down. “That’s just fucking crazy. Unbelievable.”

“Well, I walked straight into them,” Jensen shrugs, like beating up a random person on the street is a completely natural behavior. “Should have known better.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jared protests forcefully. “You couldn’t have known what they were gonna do.”

“I saw what they did to the dog so, go figure.”

“My hero,” Jared sighs, batting his lashes coyly.

“By the way, do you know anything?”

“They said that he’ll be okay. A few months and he’ll be like new.”

“Great ,” Jensen smiles impassively, blowing onto his coffee to cool it off a bit, before he takes the first careful sip. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” Jensen’s eyes sweep up to Jared’s suspiciously. “You’re not planning to adopt him, are you?”

“I thought you were,” Jared returns with a grin.

He meant it as a joke, but Jensen looks like he’s really considering it. And why not?

“Jensen?”

“Hm?”

“You want him?”

“What? No... No.”

“He’s not gonna grow any bigger, y’ know? And two dogs or three... not really a big difference. And he’s aaaadorable... I’m sure he loves you already. You could.”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Scratching his eyebrow, Jensen’s fingers unwittingly catch on the sticking-plaster that keep the edges of his cut drawn together and he pauses, as though wondering what it’s doing there. “Maybe... maybe.”

“Okay.”

They finish the breakfast in silence, the only sounds breaking the stillness of the house being the random songs, which interchange with the news and weather forecasts on the radio, and the barking of the dogs seeping through the open window occasionally.

Leaning against the wall and sipping on his coffee, Jared watches Jensen intently, following the movements of his hand as it fills the last empty fields of the puzzle quickly, regarding the thoughtful wrinkles drawn across his forehead. Noticing as the sunshine reflects on his face, illuminating the bruises and painfully raw skin, dropping thick shadows of his long eyelashes onto his cheeks. Sliding his eyes lower, his gaze lingers on the bloody, tooth-shaped snick on the pink, plump lower lip, and drawing in a rather constricted breath, he licks his own lips instinctively, tasting milk and too sweet coffee, and nothing like what he sees or recalls. He sighs and shakes his head at himself, then pushes off the table, glancing out of the window to check on his dogs. He finds them settled in the shadows of the trees peacefully and moves to the sink to wash the dishes.

“It’s my turn today, y’ know?” Jensen remarks, nearly giving Jared a heart-attack. Apparently, even limping, Jensen can still move as stealthily as a cat.

“Guess I’ll have to take a rain check then,” Jared chuckles, turning off the water.

“With high interest I bet.”

“You can count on it.”

“Awesome... One more,” Jensen says, handing Jared his cup.

Jared jerks, even with the barely there touch of their fingers, and drops the mug into the water, showering his face and the cast on Jensen’s hand. They both watch it bubble and sink, until it completely disappears in the white foam.

“Is this how it’s gonna be now?” Jensen quietly asks the billions of tiny bubbles balancing on the choppy water level.

And Jared could swear he could hear the explosion as the bubble of pretense, and ignoring the elephant in the room, which has no doubt grown at least to the size of a brontosaurus, deflates.

There it is, the moment he’s been waiting for and feared equally since the moment he woke up, under the same roof and within the same red brick walls, only under a different color painted ceiling, with a different warmth beside him.

“What?” He wonders, apprehensive, and pretending he has no idea what Jensen’s talking about.

Although he knows, knows damn well. But he just can’t. He can’t focus, can’t stop the tremble running constantly through his body like an electric current, which only increases the closer Jensen moves. The heat pooling in his belly makes his knees go weak and his mind blank. He keeps repeating a mantra, reminding himself it’s Jensen - beautiful, naked Jensen, moaning and shivering in Jared’s arms, cold, trembling fingers stroking Jared’s inflamed skin, pulling him closer and keeping him near. His lips, wet and swollen, and burning like a blaze brushing against Jared’s, his smooth, sweat-slippery skin, pallid and contrasting with the black and red silky sheets underneath - his co-star and best friend. One of the most amazing and mysterious people he’s ever met. Someone who’s with him basically 24/7, and knows him better than anyone else. But it’s not working how it’s supposed to, because the previous night has changed them. Changed the avatar of the man Jared used to know.

Throwing the slobbery tennis ball to the two excited and hare-brained dogs in the long hallway, mainly to stop himself from tramping a hole into the carpet than because he was in the mood for games, Jared listened to the silence coming from the bathroom where Jensen had disappeared twenty minutes ago, telling Jared not to panic, he was okay. The sound of running water had faded a while ago, but Jensen was still in there, making Jared more and more nervous.

“Jensen?” He knocked on the door a bare five minutes later. “Jen?” There was no response, so he knocked again, louder. “Jensen... Open the door, or I’m coming in, and dude, I hope you’re decent.” Taking a deep breath, Jared turned the knob and pushed the door open, the hot steam pouring out of the shower hitting him fully into the face, blinding him for a second. Blinking quickly to chase the vapor out of his eyes, Jared looked around the empty room in confusion, before he finally spotted a shaking figure huddled in the corner, rocking blankly back and forth.

“Oh God,” Jared yelped, breaking the distance between them with three quick steps and dropping to his knees beside Jensen. “Jensen?” he called out quietly, waving his hand in front of the older man’s face to break his dead stare, which was fixed on the tiles in front of him. “Jens, can you hear me? My God, Jen... please, say something.” The lack of response chilling Jared to the bone, he moved closer and into the unfocussed line of sight of the shocked man. He put his hand on Jensen’s shoulder carefully, shaking him slightly. “Jensen... Jen... C’mon, don’t do this to me. Please... C’mon.”

The whole century might have shifted before Jensen blinked, pulled from the dark corners of his mind by Jared’s voice and his rough shake.

“Jay,” he breathed out, like it was the first and only word and thought he could form and push through his dry, trembling lips.

“Christ,” Jared heaved, chasing back the tears of relief stinging his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” He sat down onto the floor, completely drained, and reached for Jensen, pulling him up towards himself. “It’s okay... you’re fine. It’s gone, you’re safe now,” he whispered.

And Jensen went. Tears streaming down his ashy cheeks and a small, lost boy reflected in the liquid emerald eyes, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around Jared’s neck, holding onto him tightly.

“Shhh, you’re safe now. ‘S gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay,” Jared mumbled, honestly having no idea whether he was right, or just mumbling nonsense, his brain toasted with fear and sheer panic. He was terrified by how easily Jensen had crawled into his embrace, no will to prevent it, no struggle to move away, just a limp, shivering rag doll.

Looking down, he spotted a set of wet footsteps trailing across the bathroom floor, from the shower bath to the door and back, at least four tracks, meeting, crossing and melting into each other, showing a panicked pace he hadn’t been there to stop.

Jensen’s head fell on Jared’s shoulder, as if too heavy to be held up, and he sniffed, his fingers grabbing handfuls of Jared’s T-shirt, tugging and bunching the cotton in cold, sweating fists.

Stroking Jensen’s back up and down, and in slow circles, Jared could feel the constant quiver running through Jensen’s spine underneath the chilly, sweat-damp T-shirt and tugged him even closer, like he was trying to absorb Jensen into his own body, to keep him warm. And safe.

Jensen hiccuped then, and his whole body tensed like a bow, his blunt fingernails digging into Jared’s shoulders almost painfully, as he tried to take a breath and failed. His chest expanded against Jared’s, struggling to inhale some air into his lungs, but it wasn’t working, and suddenly Jensen started gasping for breath, wheezing, smothered.

That alone was, in Jared’s opinion, the scariest thing ever. He seized Jensen’s shoulders and pushed him off himself gently, holding him up and begging him to look at him and do as he did as he took a breath himself, slowly, naturally, while Jensen watched with wide, frightened eyes.

It might have been thirty, forty seconds, maybe a minute, definitely the longest moment in Jared’s life, before Jensen succeeded. Meanwhile, his forehead had started to pearl with sweat, which was now running down his temples in thin rivers, and his fingers had entangled in the material of Jared's sweatpants stretched across his thighs, clutching it almost rhythmically. He pulled the first gulps of oxygen into his lungs and, exhausted, slumped onto the floor against the damp wall tiles behind him, looking back at Jared through wet, half-lidded eyes. He was so pale he was almost green.

Feeling his own breathing decelerate to almost normal, and the trickle of perspiration slip down the line of his spine, Jared reached for Jensen’s hand and drew him back to him, once again amazed he wasn’t protesting. Jensen’s T-shirt was drenched and his skin showered with goose bumps, and he was trembling continually, so hard his teeth were chattering, but he was breathing, albeit jerkily.

And Jared was still terrified, but it was Jensen in his arms. Stunning, gorgeous Jensen, with soulful eyes the color of emerald, and caramel freckles sprinkled in all the places Jared could see and spots he could only imagine. Firm body and taut muscles, hard ridges and bones pressed against him, making Jared’s heart follow the frantic drum of Jensen’s own, fresh citrus shampoo, and something like the fragrance of the sea pouring off his skin. And Jared wanted, wanted. Like he had wanted for every single day since Jensen had moved in, and for the three, four years before. Maybe from the moment the shy green eyes had looked up at him from below the rim of the sandy beret, sometime in the spring of 2005. He was in love, desperately wanting, and holding Jensen that close wasn’t helping, felt like pouring salt into open wounds.

Something changed then though, shifted, someone moved, and Jared couldn’t say who or where to, but suddenly there were Jensen’s lips, trembling and swollen, hot and tasting of copper, and parting on Jared’s, and all rational thoughts flew out the window, disappeared like the steam around them.

Jared knew he was supposed to cut it off, stop it before it could go any further, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop his hands from wandering under Jensen’s T-shirt, prevent his tongue from thrusting deeper into Jensen’s mouth, tasting fear and peppermint. Or ban his fingers from curling around Jensen’s narrow hipbones, drawing him near.

And Jensen was moving forward, pressing his tongue against and alongside Jared’s, meeting the slow, rather testing rocking of Jared’s hips, like he wanted it just that much, too, needed it, and to have someone so close.

It might have been only fear and panic that was driving Jensen’s body into Jared’s, that was controlling his movements and the longing in his darkened eyes, but Jared was too weak to think about those possibilities, too desperate to fight against it, push away what he had wanted for so long.

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“Are you gonna jump every time I get closer or, God forbid, touch you?” Jensen wonders, looking up at Jared uncertainly.

“I’m not... jumping.” Jared fidgets like just the thought itself was completely ridiculous.

“Right. Jare, if you’re planning to freak out... Sorry to break it to you, but it’s a bit late for that.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Of course not.” The blond man replies sharply with a bitter flavor in his voice, shaking his head helplessly as he steps away.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says finally, causing Jensen to turn around and look at him.

If Jared had hit him, there couldn’t be more surprise or pain in the jaded eyes.

“You’re sorry?” Jensen repeats, stunned. “I wanted you, you wanted me and... you’re sorry? That’s... great. Really.”

“It’s just, you... you were scared, and so was I, and I-I couldn’t...” Jared trails off, doesn’t really know how to continue, or what to say, especially with the chill in the gaze staring back at him.

“Couldn’t what?” Jensen demands coldly, his eyes flashing. “Stop it? Push me away? Say no because you actually didn’t want it? ... So what, this was some kind of a... pity gesture?”

“NO!” Jared barks, startling even himself. He pulls his hands out of the sudsy water, throwing clouds of foam all around and dripping water onto the floor, before his fingers find the dishcloth and he wipes his hands. “Of course not. Jeez... no!”

Jensen tilts his head slightly and arches his eyebrow, waiting for Jared to go on, explain, a gesture that makes him look so alike Dean, it’s spooky.

“I couldn’t stop it, alright?” Jared starts angrily. “I just couldn’t keep my hands off you, or stop myself from reaching for you, because I’d wanted you for so damn long, I couldn’t let you go when you were finally in my arms! ... You were in shock, and I still couldn’t stop myself... I was fucking weak, and I’m sorry.”

Jensen blinks, twice, three times, his eyelashes flutter and his mouth opens wordlessly, and Jared is sure he’s gonna faint. He doesn’t, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word either. He just gazes at Jared mutely, and if it wasn’t for the astonishment flickering in his eyes, Jared would be having déjà vu of the previous night, of the moments that had brought them here, into this mess.

“I really like you, you know?” he says, trying to get some kind of answer, some, any, reaction from Jensen. “Like, really like you. A lot. I’m... I think I’m in love with you, Jensen.” He raises his hands up, then lets them fall to his sides again, helpless, exasperated. “This just isn’t how I imagined telling you. How I wanted it to go.”

“Oh,” Jensen breathes out finally.

“Yeah, oh.”

“You ever thought that, maybe, I liked you, too?” Jensen asks, the surprise gone, and just seriousness in his pragmatic tone.

And Jared pauses, perplexed, because he hadn’t. All the time he’d just thought, was sure, that Jensen was acting instinctively, on panic, fear, shock, not because he wanted to, not because he liked Jared, too.

Jensen nods and bites down onto his split lip, clearly disappointed, and probably even hurt. “No,” he replies for Jared. “You just thought that this is what I usually do... Let someone to-to... when I don’t feel well.”

Jared can’t manage a word, doesn’t know what to say, what to feel. Doesn’t know how to build up his shattered theories anew, because he was so sure it was only a mistake for Jensen, something he would never want to do again, because he didn’t really want it the first time either.

Jensen is still waiting for his answer, for him to say, No, I didn’t, but it’s not coming.

“Seriously?” he wonders, and this is probably the first time that Jared’s mouth has refused to work, let alone cooperate. He reaches for Jensen, but he swats his hand away with a scowl and shrinks back, stumbling from him. He comes to a halt in the door and turns his head a little, speaking so quietly that Jared’s not sure he’s talking at all. “When I said it’s been a while...” he says, referring to their earlier conversation, “You were first. And not because I was in shock.”

“Shit,” Jared curses, listening as Jensen’s footsteps soften, until they die away completely as the door of the porch closes with a quiet click. “ShitShitShit... Shit!”

The grass is already arid underneath Jared’s feet as he makes his way across the lawn, heading to where the shadow of the cherry tree yields to the sunshine, caressing the tips of Jensen’s toes.

He looks small and a trifle lost as he sits there on the grass in his old, pale jeans and a white T-shirt that only underlines the bruises and finger-shaped marks on his skin, shouting out yesterday’s story and everything that had happened during the previous night. Sadie is sprawled across his lap, looking up at him with her bright, deep eyes, watching him worriedly, while Harley watches from behind, leaned against Jensen’s back.

Jared feels a stab of jealousy and guilt sliding through his heart like an arrow when the dogs don’t give him a second look as he comes closer. But, at the same time, he's thankful that they love Jensen just as much as he loves them, that they're there for him, shielding him. Even if it's from Jared himself. When Jared should never be the reason Jensen feels that hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, as he drops onto the grass beside Jensen, who visibly flinches and looks away in dismay.

“Yeah, we already heard that part,” Jensen points out tersely, his fingers never stopping their mindless run through Sadie’s thick fur.

“I’m sorry that I said I was sorry,” Jared corrects.

Jensen turns his gaze to him at last, confused and surprised, a thin but vivid sparkle of hope flickering in his eyes.

“I’m not,” Jared goes on. “And I... wasn’t. Couldn’t be. It was...incredible. I know it wasn’t perfect. And I know I hurt you, but... God, it was. It was you.”

Jensen’s cheeks take on a pink glow, bringing out his freckles and the dark shade of his black eye, and he drops his eyes to the ground. “Why... why did you say it then?”

“I just--” Jared shrugs and scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, restlessly. “I thought it was what you wanted to hear.”

Jensen’s gaze finds Jared’s again, containing an even louder question than his voice. “Why would you think so?”

“I don’t know... I just thought that you didn’t want it.”

“Did it look like I didn’t want it?”

“It’s just... I’ve never, y’know, never noticed you were... into guys.”

“I’m not,” Jensen replies, staring at Jared with that incredibly open and trustful look Jared hadn’t even hoped he’d see again after their quarrel. “I’m just into you.”

Jared smiles, tries really hard to limit his enthusiasm into a small not-so-scary grin. “So you... you don’t regret it?”

“No,” Jensen answers; his response simple, while nothing implied in it really is.

Jared lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Good, that’s... that’s great.”

Jensen jerks his head in a rough nod of acquiescence, then staggers a bit when Harley spots a colorful butterfly and pushes off Jensen’s back, running after it like a lunatic, Sadie at his heels.

“You should have told me,” Jared says after the brief moment of silence they spend watching the two furry monsters frolic.

“Told you what?”

“That you never... before...”

Jensen flushes again, and it’s so unbelievably cute that Jared just wants to lean in and kiss him. “There’s a first time for everything,” Jensen shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. Except it is, was, especially for him.

“Yeah, but I’m... I would’ve liked to know.”

“Why?”

“So I’d have been, I don’t know... more careful. Gentler.”

“Jay, you couldn’t have been possibly more careful than you were.”

Jensen’s tone is balanced, the only clue that gives away how uncomfortable and nervous this whole conversation makes him is the way his fingers curl and bunch the hem of his T-shirt, by now already looking like it’s been just pulled out of the washing-machine. “All my stitches are just where they were. Untouched... You didn’t hurt me.”

It’s kind of funny how Jared’s never imagined that their talk about sex, which he was actually sure would never unwind anywhere else than in his head, would be this awkward. Now he can’t shake off the feeling that he’s done something wrong, at the wrong time. No matter how good and right it felt back then. “Jen--”

“I-I got it, okay?” Jensen stutters. “Should have told you, but I... I was scared you’d have stopped it, and I... wanted you. Needed to feel you that close.” He takes a deep, uneven breath and goes silent for a while, and Jared feels nervous for him, but he wants, needs to know, so he waits for him to go on. “I wanted you, too, y’know? Liked you, too, for some while, but... Never had the courage. Never knew you’d... But yesterday, after the incident I just, I don’t know... I just realized that what we have is now, today... and I-” He breaks off with a bitter laughter that hovers just at the edge of being hysterical and runs his hands over his face tiredly, leaving a faint imprint of the texture of his cast on his cheek. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“You’re making perfect sense to me though,” Jared assures him with a gentle smile.

“Yeah?” Jensen chuckles, shifting his eyes to Jared’s like he doesn’t really believe it, and scratching on his jaw self-consciously. “Great.”

Watching Jensen as he tugs thoughtlessly at the fine white threads sticking out of the hole in his jeans Jared can’t help but notice the broken connection in between them. In despite of their words of assurance that they both wanted what had happened, and that neither regrets it, it still feels like there’s some invisible, but palpable abyss gaping in between.

“Why doesn’t it work?” he asks when it feels like he’s gonna chew away his whole thumb without figuring it out.

Jensen looks up, puzzled. “What doesn’t work?”

“This vibe between us,” he says, gesturing in between them wildly. “This words are overrated communication.”

“We’re on a different page,” Jensen shrugs. “Maybe it doesn’t work there.”

“And you… you wanna stay there? On the new page?”

“I think it’s a bit late for trying to turn back a page that doesn’t exist anymore. We’ve gone too far,” Jensen explains, never mind Jared’s already lost in the metaphors and not really following. “I think we can’t go back there and… I don’t think I want to.”

That, though, was clear enough, and Jared grins so wide he’s afraid his face might split in half.

Jensen’s frowning though as he catches Jared’s gaze hesitantly, “Listen I… didn’t even thank you. Yesterday I - and you…”

“Well, you kind of already did,” Jared objects, simpering.

“What?”

“You gave me your virtue.”

Jensen pauses, horrified, but the corners of his mouth twitch a bit. “You didn’t just say that.” And Jared only smiles wider. “I’m trying to thank you here.”

“Then don’t, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not… I mean, even back then… If I’d taken the taxi, I might have been still lying there.”

“Or, if you had taken the taxi, you wouldn’t have had to wait for me, and none of that would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, I don’t know… Maybe. Maybe not.”

He shivers then, in spite of the hot day and the constant sunlight pouring on them both, and wraps his arms around himself, stroking his skin to chase away the goose bumps.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jared asks worriedly, seeing the troubled shadows clouding Jensen’s face.

“Hmm,” he nods, looking down at his suddenly trembling hands. His breathing quickens, slowly but surely increasing to constricted, short intakes of breath.

“Jen,” Jared leans nearer, resting his hand on Jensen’s knees, and trying to peep into his face. Jensen’s hiding though, and it feels like he’s gone again. As if he’s drifted away in a heartbeat, back to where Jared found him yesterday. “Jensen.”

Jensen shakes his head and sinks his teeth into his lip, trying not to… cry. But he’s failing, and the tears fall before he can stop them, soaking into the pale fabric of his pants. He sniffs and rubs on his eyes with the back of his hand quickly, annoyed, embarrassed.

Jared smiles soothingly, although Jensen’s not looking at him, and puts his hand on Jensen’s chin, lifting his head. He strokes Jensen’s cheek with the knuckles of his hand, then wipes the few errant tears away with his thumb. “Jensen.”

Jensen fidgets uncomfortably and dodges Jared’s eyes. “I-I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.”

Jared leans in and places a soft kiss on Jensen’s forehead. He slips his fingers through Jensen’s sun-warmed hair and down to his arm, caressing it gently. His voice sounds small and wounded even to his own ears. “It’s okay.”

Jensen shakes his head once again, “It’s not.”

“It is. The doc said it’ll take a while before the shock subsides,” Jared reminds, speaking against Jensen’s skin. “Before your nerves calm down.”

Nodding, Jensen takes in a wheezing breath, obviously trying to take over the control of his body again, and suppress the jitters and fright that are currently ruling his senses. He raises his eyes to Jared’s finally and smiles, so softly Jared’s not sure he isn’t only imagining it, and reaches out to trace one side of Jared’s face with the tips of his fingers, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. His gaze falls to Jared’s lips, then sweeps up to his eyes again, intent and burning. His touch lingers and slips lower, and he grips the front of Jared’s T-shirt.

It’s a noiseless wish, but Jared hears it anyway. He puts his palm on Jensen’s cheek, deliberately avoiding all the bruises scattered there, and inclines his head to the side slightly. His lips touch Jensen’s, warm and smooth, once again tasting of teardrops and a hint of dry blood. Jensen’s fingers delve into Jared’s hair, pulling him closer as his teeth press on Jared’s lower lip, tugging gently. He sighs when Jared’s lips open upon his request and his tongue darts out, pushing its way into Jensen’s mouth, making his fingers curl tightly around a handful of dark hair.

The taste is different, it’s gentle and slow, and yet it’s still a battle for dominance that neither wants to lose, while neither really fights to gain it. It’s not new, but it’s still unknown, and it’s a feeling Jared’s sure he’ll never get enough of.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs as he pushes Jensen onto the soft grass carefully, feeling his self control slipping away just as easily as the day before. “If anything hurts. Tell me, please.”

“I'm okay,” Jensen whispers. “I'm not made of porcelain.” And Jared grins, he knows, but his protective instincts have taken over, and he doesn’t really feel like fighting them.

Jensen’s healthy fingers slip up Jared’s strong arm and underneath the rim of his sleeve to feel the warm skin and hard muscles underneath, dragging him near. His bandaged hand rests on the small of Jared’s back, sending shivers through his whole spine at the sensation of the chilly, rough material sliding up his bared, heated skin. Jensen's legs part for Jared to settle in between, and he arches up into the friction when Jared, supporting himself up on his arms, covers his body like a blanket. In Jensen’s eyes, Jared recognizes the same trust he saw yesterday, when his fingers hooked in the loops of Jensen’s jeans, pulling them down.

Almost breathless, Jared draws away after a while and opens his eyes, looking down at Jensen, who appears as though he’s managed to fall asleep. His face is calm, wearing a rather far-away expression, but he’s watching Jared back through the curtains of his eyelashes.

“Alright?” Jared asks as he leans on his elbow, tracing his finger tips down Jensen’s face, from the mild, barely visible lines on his forehead, and the black bruise extending around his eye, over the maps of the raw, reddened and darkened skin, to his pouty, bruised and kiss-swollen lips and his chin, where there’s a scab just in the middle of it. His fingers slide lower, copying the protruding bones of Jensen’s chest and the line in between his ribs until they settle on his belly, drawing invisible circles on the T-shirt around his navel.

“I’m sorry that I bruised you,” he says quietly.

Opening his eyes at last, Jensen props himself up onto his elbows and looks up at Jared in confusion, searching his eyes for an answer.

Jared moves his fingers underneath the light cotton and rolls it up, exposing Jensen’s stomach and leading his eyes down. There are sets of scratches and bruises from fists and knees, blue and green, some pink, others almost yellow, marking the pallid, soft skin.

“I wanted… needed to reassure myself that you were okay. Make you forget about them, and I… hurt you instead.”

The injuries Jared had seen when he’d opened his eyes besides a sleeping Jensen were only one of the many reasons why he’d freaked out so much. Most of them were shapeless, saying nothing of their origin, but a few of them were different, formed by the one person who was supposed to take care of him, and soothe the pain they were pulsating with. Not to leave a configuration of his own undeniable ownership.

“And now you can barely say which ones are from them.”

He’s so lost in his self-reproach, he almost jumps when Jensen’s fingers close around his hand, leading it lower on his body. As if hypnotized, he watches as their joined fingers move down and over the swell of Jensen’s marked hipbone, until the tips of his fingers disappear beneath the waistband of Jensen’s low riding jeans. His eyes shift up to find Jensen’s own staring up at him, flaring. Jensen’s eyelashes flutter and his lips open on a soft moan at Jared’s touch, and his grip on Jared’s hand tightens.

“These are yours,” he breathes, setting Jared’s fingers to where they’ve already been printed, where they seem to belong. “The only ones I wanna keep.”

Jared’s heart pauses and then speeds up. It might not be what Jensen’s saying, maybe it’s not supposed to mean what Jared thinks, but it sounds like a confession to Jared’s ears, and his eyes glaze over at the thought that he could have lost something so precious before he’d even really found it.

“I love you,” he mumbles before he can stop himself and leans down, pressing his lips on Jensen’s and giving him no chance to open his mouth and say the same, or deny the weight of Jared’s words.