.0092 (III) - Dare You to Let Me Be Your (Your One and Only)
Pushing a piece of butter across the red-hot pan, Jared watches the tiny, sizzling bubbles of melted fat that follow the movements of the spatula, covering the surface and mixing with the eggs he adds a moment later. It’s oddly fascinating. Rolling his eyes, Jared shakes his head at himself, because normally, nothing this familiar and ordinary would catch his attention. This morning, however, riding high on adrenaline, expectations, and an undeniable dose of fear and doubts, everything seems to be more obvious, apparent and colorful. Wider, louder, more important… Jared feels like maybe last night was just a dream, just one of many extremely vivid dreams. Maybe he and Jensen are still just what they used to be, co-stars and friends, two unimportant pieces in the large train of gears of Hollywood, and not lovers, not two parts of a newly found pair. He can’t still quite wrap his head around the fact that Jensen’s fallen for him. For him. He can’t recall if he was this terribly nervous the night before, when he had finally realized and told Jensen how he feels about him. Or when he pushed him down onto the couch, crawling in between his parted legs and pushing his hands beneath the soft material of his shirt, his fingers skidding over the small bumps of Jensen’s ribs. The little, breathy noises, just barely dimmed by Jared’s mouth, that Jensen was making were intoxicating. The way his fingertips were dancing over Jared’s bare skin, up and down his spine, eventually sliding under the waist of his pants, curious but hesitating, only made Jared want more.
It was strange - unsettling, even - how much he longed for more, to take a few steps forward at once, to erase any and every distance between them and break all the barriers keeping them apart, yet how, at the same time, he was terrified to even touch, to ask for something Jensen wasn’t ready for. There was heat, need, insisting want that threatened to eat him alive, burn his common senses away, but then there were Jensen’s eyes, open and wanting, but astonished and, though Jensen was definitely trying to hide it, undoubtedly scared.
When Jared got up to let the dogs out for their night walk, staying outside long enough to set the rapid beat of his heart back to normal, he returned into the living room to find Jensen on the couch, right where and how he left him. With the two top buttons on his jeans undone and his shirt rucked up, just fast asleep. And, strangely enough, Jared was glad. Because it settled the argument he had been having with himself and quit the inner battle he was already losing.
He woke up with his face buried in Jensen’s shoulder blade, almost suffocated by the cotton of his shirt, and with his palm spread over Jensen’s bare stomach. Nothing happened, which was definitely good, but Jared can’t help wondering if maybe that isn’t just another reason why he feels so weird now.
Shoving the pan off the stove, Jared involuntary tenses at the quiet sound of approaching footsteps: Jensen’s bare feet that pad across the tiled floor of the hallway, heading towards the kitchen. Jensen never wears shoes at home, which Jared doesn’t always consider as a good idea, because with two dogs around, the floor’s never quite clean or safe, but Jensen likes it that way. Even when Jared had managed to step on Jensen’s bare toe in his old Converse sneakers one time too often.
He can hear Jensen as he enters the kitchen; the wooden floor is old enough to creak under the slightest pressure. But more palpable than the audio is the feeling Jared gets upon Jensen’s arrival; goose bumps on his arms and a tight, anticipating curling in his stomach. He looks up from the unfinished breakfast to find Jensen standing in the door, leaned against the doorframe and looking just as keyed up as Jared feels, his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, his lower lip tugged in between his teeth. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look like he wants to say something, he just stares at Jared, watching him watch him.
Jared thinks that maybe it’s not only him after all, that maybe there really is something between them, tense and unspoken, and he only hopes that it’s simply because they’re both so used to their friendly dynamic they just don’t know how to approach the change, the fact they’re actually, sort of, dating. He wonders if he should wait for the something to happen or if he should go towards it, towards Jensen.
“Hey,” Jensen says then, eventually, finally, breaking the expanded bubble of silence and uncertainty, at least partly, and pulling from the door. His voice is really rough and deep at this early hour, still full of sleep and unused, and ten kinds of hot. Jared hates that he shivers in response to that tone.
Letting out a heavy breath he wasn’t even aware of holding, Jared smiles. “Morning.”
Jensen nods and returns the smile, though it comes out slightly tensed and crooked. He, generally, feels rather cold and reserved, but Jared has stopped taking Jensen’s morning grumpiness personally a long time ago, because that’s just another side of Jensen’s colorful personality. Jensen needs time to fully wake up and start existing, let alone coexisting with other people, and lots of coffee. At least two mugs. The first one, dark and steamy, he basically inhales, but he takes longer to enjoy the second.
Following their morning routine, automatically and without a word, Jensen walks over to the kitchen unit and grabs two large cups from the cupboard, pouring them both a dose of fresh coffee. And while Jared finishes the scrambled eggs, adding cheese and some seasoning, he makes toast. It’s practically just another morning, random and ordinary. Except it’s not, not entirely.
Wrapping both hands around his black cup, chinked a little above the handle, Jensen leans against the kitchen counter and looks out the window, casual and visibly tense at the same time. Jared follows him, putting the full plates down onto the counter and copying his posture almost unintentionally.
The snow had stopped falling around midnight, after a huge snowstorm that had completely covered Jared’s car in the driveway and the road. Now it spreads across the whole backyard, quiet and fairly innocent. The sun leans into the endless whiteness, making it glisten in the sharp, blinding way that forces Jared to narrow his eyes even through the window glass. The snow looks like extra-fine granulated sugar and it’s hard to believe that it’s actually wet and freezing cold.
The silence in the kitchen is so deafening, so large and still expanding that Jared feels like it’s literally choking him. “I. Uh… Is it me or is it weird?” he asks when he can’t take it any longer, looking at Jensen and hoping that he knows more, that he understands what’s happening, because this is scary, not like them at all.
Jensen glances at him over the rim of his cup, his eyes visibly tired and sleepy, but impossibly huge. “It is weird,” he says quietly, to Jared’s great disappointment. “A little.”
“Huh,” Jared nods, and then pauses again. “But why is that?”
Jensen sighs and turns around to put his empty cup on the counter, moving slowly, almost leisurely. But Jared can see that he’s only buying time and organizing his thoughts, looking for the right words. It’s kind of adorable, how, when Jensen’s thinking about something, it’s written not only in his face, in all the mild wrinkles that appear on his forehead, but even in his posture, the stiff and quite strained way he holds himself.
“I… I don’t know about you, but…” He leans backward and curls his fingers around the edge of the counter, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. “I spent so many days being angry with you. For-for being so… so you. Sexy and handsome. So gorgeous, Jare… So sweet and kind. And so damn blind and oblivious, I just, I’m… I think I’m simply having troubles changing that state, you know? To believe that what you said is true.”
“Jensen…” Jared tries, but Jensen interrupts him swiftly before he can finish.
“I know it is. I mean, I want to believe you and I do. Somewhat… And I do want to believe that we can make it work, that it won’t only damage what we’ve built, but… deep down, there are doubts. Plus, uhm, there’s the whole… other thing. Because, Jare… I had never been attracted to a man before. I never considered myself gay; you know that, we talked about it. Before. And so suddenly realizing that I’m in love with my best friend - my very ‘manly’ best friend at the age of thirty? It’s a little… unexpected.” Jensen pauses to draw in a heavy breath and shakes his head, looking worn out and kind of confused. He’s not looking at Jared, not directly, rather somewhere over his shoulder, his gaze skittish and unsettled. When he does return his eyes to Jared, they seem bottomless and penetrating. “I’m just freaking terrified, that’s what I am. I love you and I do want you, but… I’m also scared out of my mind. And all the people around us? They’re only a few of many. And still they’re just one of the many reasons why this all could be a very bad idea. We’ll have to be careful. A secret for God knows how long… Are you really ready for all that, Jared? Do you think you can ever be?”
Shaking his head, Jared leans against the kitchen counter heavily, sinking against the polished wood. He feels cold suddenly, chilled from inside. Like someone’s reached out with an ice cold hand and wrapped their fingers around his heart, squeezing it in a tight, deathly grip and trying to pull it out of his ribcage. The sudden realization that he hadn’t thought of any of this before, that he hadn’t thought about their relationship in this ‘global’ view, hitting hard. “I… I haven’t thought of that,” he admits.
“Be glad,” Jensen suggests, smiling another of those tiny, barely noticeable grins.
“No, seriously. Last night, all I saw was you. And me. Us. I didn’t think about my family, or your family. What it will be like for you when they’re so religious. If it fits their belief. If they… can even handle it. I didn’t think about our job. Nothing. Not even for a second. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. I just had some time to think.”
“About a year?”
“Roughly,” Jensen confirms.
“I should have thought about that.”
“And end up having nightmares like me?” Jensen chuckles. “There’s always time for that. And for the rest, too. Let’s just… Let’s just try to work around the awkwardness of us first, and then move on, ‘kay? ‘Cause I’m nowhere near ready to announce it to the world yet anyway.” He turns around to pick up his cup again and moves to the coffee machine to pour himself another one. Lifting the still empty cup, he points with it at Jared, emphasizing his next words. “Or to just about anyone right now.”
Jared watches him as he fills his cup, regarding the vapor rising out of it, and how it seems to bring more color to Jensen’s cheeks. It’s really kind of unfair how adorably Jensen looks in the morning, both sexy and cute. All sleep-warm and not entirely awake yet, in those baggy, black and red checked sweatpants and a worn hoodie, with a crease of pillow printed on his cheek and a dip of shaving cream drying on the neck-line. He smells of soap and toothpaste and so clean Jared has devilish tendencies to tackle him to the floor and make him seriously dirty.
“Have you told your family?” he wonders aloud. “Does anyone know?”
“That I’m gay?” At Jared’s confirmative nod, Jensen shrugs. “Danneel’s the only one who knows. Though ‘Kenzie probably suspects.”
“And do you… Do you think they’ll have some problems with it? With… us?”
It’s so evident that Jensen’s nervous, scared, deep down beneath the mask of calmness and composure, worried that they will not approve. That they will be disappointed. His hand holding the cup slightly, almost unnoticeably shakes, but the tremor is getting more violent, the longer he talks. “Dad. Maybe. But not… in the sense that he would try to disinherit me or something, you know? It’s more… He’s old school, so--I don’t know,” he admits eventually, sounding, once again, so small and so young. “And mom, she was already looking forward to spoiling grandchildren. She’ll be disappointed.”
Jared’s already close to Jensen, sliding his hand along Jensen’s arm to wrap his fingers around his elbow and steady his hand when the first splash of coffee drips from the cup and hits the floor, but he’s nowhere fast enough to stop it. Jensen curses, watching as a few drops of the hot, dark liquid slides slowly, steadily down the counter door, joining the rest spilled on the white tiles. He makes to move and reach for the roll of paper towels to clean up the mess, but Jared tugs him back in. He ignores it all, because he’s momentarily more worried about Jensen than the dirty kitchen floor. It’s nothing new, anyway. If it wasn’t the coffee, it would be the dogs’ food, or something else. He’s not even hungry anymore and the scrambled eggs he was starving for a moment ago, undoubtedly cold by now, look anything but appetizing to him.
“It’s not gonna be easy, huh?” he asks as he rests his chin on Jensen’s shoulder, taking the soiled cup from his trembling hand and putting it aside to save it any more damage. He winds his arms around Jensen’s waist and pulls him closer, smiling when he feels Jensen relax in his hold and lean into him a bit. “You and me? Us?”
“No.”
“But it’ll be worth it.”
“Maybe not.”
“It will be,” Jared insists, deciding to make it work, despite of all the ill-wishing people around them and everything that stands against them. Because he knows it’s worth it. He tips his head to the side slightly, pressing his lips against the thin, tender skin of Jensen’s throat, parting them upon his pulse point. He can feel the rapid beating of Jensen’s heart beneath his mouth, tangibly speeding up at his touch, the quiet moan that Jensen lets out as he slides his fingers into Jared’s hair, keeping him close. “Because you are.”
Thank you for reading. I hope it wasn't too painful...