.0089 - Daydreaming On a Strawberry Swing
Jensen/Jared
667 words
Prompt: swing
Title from Frank Ocean
Teaser: "I got my first french kiss right here, though. I was fourteen that day..."
Smiling to himself, Jared steps over the half-chewed ball that Icarus has left on the grass, and heads towards the old, tall apple tree where his no-longer-MIA boyfriend sits on the simple wooden swing. Bare feet push him off the ground, though Jensen doesn't swing as much as he just turns round and around, hands on the thick chains on each side, the hurt one just slightly touching, head bowed. He looks, all of a sudden but not for the first time, twenty years younger.
“Mackenzie told me you might be here,” Jared says when he's close enough, running his hand down Jensen's back lightly.
They were helping with the dishes, discussing tomorrow's plan for a trip to San Antonio and Jared somehow got wrapped in a chat with Kenzie, and when he turned around, Jensen was no longer there.
Jensen looks up, eyes black in the darkness around, the green hardly noticeable, moonlight reflecting in them. “I am.”
Jared kneels down in front of him and rests his chin on Jensen's knee, staring up at him. “Are you okay?“
Jensen nods and offers a smile. But it's weak somehow, tight. “I am. I'm... I'm good.”
“What is it?”
Jensen sighs and puts his hand on Jared's head, slipping his fingers into his hair, probing the strands gently. He'll never stop teasing Jared about his hair, but Jared knows he, not so secretly, loves it. And the longer, the better. Because this way he can curl his fingers in it, tug and pull, force Jared to move closer, harder. Jared might keep on trying to do the same, but he's pretty much failing. Jensen's hair is soft and thick, but too short.
“It's just... Don't know. I guess this makes it official somehow. You know? It makes me officially gay. Makes us officially... us. And I... love you, Jare. So much. It's just... scary, sometimes.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Not many people know about them. Only a few, really. Their families and closest friends, Eric and Kim. The world isn't always open and understanding and life isn't a fairytale. And when Jensen was scared of the reaction of his own family because they are strongly religious, Jared can only guess how much he fears public that has no connection to him, or them, and which can dismiss him and hurt so easily.
“But this went well. I think. Don't you?”
“They love you,” Jensen replies with a little grin, his fingertips dancing over Jared's cheek lightly. “And who wouldn't.”
“Well... there are some exceptions,” Jared grins. “Hey, you gonna show me the tree house you were talking about?”
Jared leans against the trunk of the apple tree, watching Jensen's feet move over the ground where there's mostly earth now, the grass faded and beaten. Jensen swings back and forth, then stops and looks over at Jared. “It's half battered down,” he says.
“Doesn't matter. I'd like to see the place where you got your first kiss. And... maybe, make you forget it completely.”
“I was five, you know?” Jensen smirks. “Her name was Jul. Juliet, I guess, but we all called her just Jul. She had blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. And two pig tails. It was my birthday and she tasted like a birthday cake. I got my first French kiss right here, though. I was fourteen that day... And she was dating Joshua. It tasted like lipstick and tequila. It wasn't right,” Jensen nods to himself, visibly lost in his thoughts and memories. “But it was hot.” He seems distant, somehow, and Jared doesn't like it.
Reaching for the chains, Jared turns the swing around and pulls Jensen to himself. “I know it's not your birthday today... but I would really like to kiss you right now. Right here.”
Jensen smiles and tilts his head higher, meeting Jared's lips half-way. He doesn't taste like a birthday cake, neither like lipstick or tequila. Jensen tastes like Texas and home. And a little like orange juice.
667 words
Prompt: swing
Title from Frank Ocean
Teaser: "I got my first french kiss right here, though. I was fourteen that day..."
Smiling to himself, Jared steps over the half-chewed ball that Icarus has left on the grass, and heads towards the old, tall apple tree where his no-longer-MIA boyfriend sits on the simple wooden swing. Bare feet push him off the ground, though Jensen doesn't swing as much as he just turns round and around, hands on the thick chains on each side, the hurt one just slightly touching, head bowed. He looks, all of a sudden but not for the first time, twenty years younger.
“Mackenzie told me you might be here,” Jared says when he's close enough, running his hand down Jensen's back lightly.
They were helping with the dishes, discussing tomorrow's plan for a trip to San Antonio and Jared somehow got wrapped in a chat with Kenzie, and when he turned around, Jensen was no longer there.
Jensen looks up, eyes black in the darkness around, the green hardly noticeable, moonlight reflecting in them. “I am.”
Jared kneels down in front of him and rests his chin on Jensen's knee, staring up at him. “Are you okay?“
Jensen nods and offers a smile. But it's weak somehow, tight. “I am. I'm... I'm good.”
“What is it?”
Jensen sighs and puts his hand on Jared's head, slipping his fingers into his hair, probing the strands gently. He'll never stop teasing Jared about his hair, but Jared knows he, not so secretly, loves it. And the longer, the better. Because this way he can curl his fingers in it, tug and pull, force Jared to move closer, harder. Jared might keep on trying to do the same, but he's pretty much failing. Jensen's hair is soft and thick, but too short.
“It's just... Don't know. I guess this makes it official somehow. You know? It makes me officially gay. Makes us officially... us. And I... love you, Jare. So much. It's just... scary, sometimes.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Not many people know about them. Only a few, really. Their families and closest friends, Eric and Kim. The world isn't always open and understanding and life isn't a fairytale. And when Jensen was scared of the reaction of his own family because they are strongly religious, Jared can only guess how much he fears public that has no connection to him, or them, and which can dismiss him and hurt so easily.
“But this went well. I think. Don't you?”
“They love you,” Jensen replies with a little grin, his fingertips dancing over Jared's cheek lightly. “And who wouldn't.”
“Well... there are some exceptions,” Jared grins. “Hey, you gonna show me the tree house you were talking about?”
Jared leans against the trunk of the apple tree, watching Jensen's feet move over the ground where there's mostly earth now, the grass faded and beaten. Jensen swings back and forth, then stops and looks over at Jared. “It's half battered down,” he says.
“Doesn't matter. I'd like to see the place where you got your first kiss. And... maybe, make you forget it completely.”
“I was five, you know?” Jensen smirks. “Her name was Jul. Juliet, I guess, but we all called her just Jul. She had blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. And two pig tails. It was my birthday and she tasted like a birthday cake. I got my first French kiss right here, though. I was fourteen that day... And she was dating Joshua. It tasted like lipstick and tequila. It wasn't right,” Jensen nods to himself, visibly lost in his thoughts and memories. “But it was hot.” He seems distant, somehow, and Jared doesn't like it.
Reaching for the chains, Jared turns the swing around and pulls Jensen to himself. “I know it's not your birthday today... but I would really like to kiss you right now. Right here.”
Jensen smiles and tilts his head higher, meeting Jared's lips half-way. He doesn't taste like a birthday cake, neither like lipstick or tequila. Jensen tastes like Texas and home. And a little like orange juice.