our parts are slightly used | part four continued
Jared officially moves into Jensen’s house on the first of July. He’d been renting his apartment on a month-to-month basis, living in a state of semi-permanence until his future resolved itself.
To celebrate, they throw a traditional barbecue a few weeks later. They invite enough people to fill Jensen’s fenced-in backyard, which Jared had labored over for a week in order to ‘heal the damage done by its neglectful owner.’ Despite Jared’s injury, he’d edged and weeded the flower beds after work, planted actual flowers in them, and trimmed every shrub and small tree on Jensen’s property.
“Damn,” Jensen said as he stared, stunned, at his made-over backyard.
Jared had smiled, wiping sweat from his brow and leaving fingerprint-shaped smudges of dirt on his skin. “The yard looks good, huh?”
“I was talking about you.” Jared’s shabby jeans were worn loose on his hips, stained brown at the knees, leaving a tempting slice of his black cotton boxers visible above his belt. A dirty white tank completed the lawn-boy fantasy image. “But yeah, the yard looks great!”
Tonight, their backyard is filled with friends, coworkers, and even Jensen’s parents who’d flown in from Arizona for the weekend. Jared and Mark switch off on the grill while Jensen mans the bar on the back porch. Soaking up the view of his social circle all in one place, Jensen smiles, realizing how lucky he is. His dad swings by the grill, gives Jared a friendly slap on the back and says something that leaves both of them grinning. Blake and Cindy are holding court at one of the picnic tables Jensen had rented, both of them aglow with shared happiness. Jimmy and his girlfriend are whispering while they watch Lincoln flirt with two women from EKI.
Warren had declined Jensen’s invitation. During their last round out at the country club, he seemed happy for Jensen; “But a barbecue’s not really my scene,” he’d said.
“Are you sure? I’ll buy a bottle of the good stuff,” Jensen promised, but it wasn’t enough to sway Warren. Privately, Jensen was relieved. He adored Warren Creavalle as a friend, but their social worlds barely overlapped.
They have plenty of beer and soda along with enough food to feed a battalion. The laughter lasts well into the night when their guests begin leaving in groups and pairs. Jensen’s parents stick around to help with the clean-up before heading back to their hotel. When they’re finally alone, Jared grabs two beers from the cooler and collapses next to Jensen in a deck chair.
“Hell of a night, huh?”
Jensen gladly accepts a bottle after Jared pops the cap. All night, he’d made sure no one went thirsty, but never got the chance to have more than two beers. He suspects Jared’s fairly sober, too. There’d been too much to enjoy, so alcohol wasn’t a necessity. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Blake and DJ from organizing a game of beer pong.
“I think we oughta lay off entertaining for a little while,” Jensen muses.
“Didn’t you have fun?”
“No, I did,” he says, “but I barely got to see you all night. It wasn’t fair.”
Jared’s lips curve over the rim of the bottle. “You get to see me all the time now,” he teases. “Pretty soon you’re gonna be sick of looking at my face.”
“Then I’ll look at your ass instead.”
They finish their beers and follow the crescent moon’s low arc in the sky. Eventually Jensen can’t disguise his yawns.
Jared looks over fondly. “Time for bed.”
“Are you kidding?” Jensen lets Jared pull him out of the chair. They squeeze chest-to-chest through the patio door, unwilling to separate. “You know some people brought us gifts, right?”
“For what?”
Jensen shrugs. “Like for a housewarming, I guess. But still…presents.”
“Fine,” Jared concedes, “gifts first, and then bed.”
“Gifts, sex, and then sleep.”
Jared rolls his eyes dramatically. “My mistake.”
Saturday games at the rec center take a tumble down their list of priorities. The group agreed beforehand to cancel their weekly meet-up the morning after the housewarming party-a lesson learned after Blake’s birthday-but it’s not the only time Jensen and Jared take a pass.
Two weeks after the party, Jared drives Jensen down to San Antonio to meet Annie and her fiancé. Jared’s parents are not included, and Jensen doesn’t press, but he’s happy that Jared is sharing more about his life, his family-the things that shaped him before the Army became his entire existence.
There are times they simply don’t feel like getting out of bed. Sleeping in is a luxury and they bask in it when they can, rolling between narrow shafts of sunlight as they cling to the last moments of a dream. Jared usually comes to consciousness first in the mornings, but he’ll stay in bed as long as Jensen’s asleep, reading or using Jensen’s tablet.
With acres of sleep-warmed skin available to him, Jared pulls Jensen against his chest, tickles down along his ribs and cajoles Jensen’s morning wood into full hardness. That’s when Jensen usually wakes up, nuzzling into the angle between Jared’s shoulder and jaw. Jensen likes to stay passive, curling into the shape of Jared’s body and opening his legs. Sometimes Jared strokes him quickly; others, he’ll wet his fingers in Jensen’s mouth, use spit to bait his hole with pressure. Either way, Jensen will come hiding his moans against Jared’s throat, kneading Jared’s inner thighs to keep from shooting out of his hold and rutting against Jared’s stomach.
Jensen tries to get Jared out on the golf course, but Jared finds nothing appealing about spending hours in the heat and humidity, “chasing little white balls with metal sticks.”
He’s able to keep his standing tee time with Warren nearly every other Sunday, but the invitations to drinks, businesses lunches, and charity events slow to a trickle. Remarkably, Jensen’s grateful; if Warren doesn’t invite him, it spares Jensen from saying no.
Mid-July, Jared begins teaching another eight-week self-defense course with his buddy Roller, who’s not at all what Jensen expected. When he finally meets Roller before the first class, Jensen’s surprised to see a slightly older man with dark, Hawaiian features and a laugh that can drown out the rest of the noise in the café. Roller-whose real name is Moe Kahluini-is full of good humor. In comparison, Jared’s personality seems muted, but all three of them are smiling by the time Jensen waves goodbye to them outside the university’s wellness center.
After class, Jared comes home a little sore, but invigorated, telling Jensen all the ways he let his coeds kick his ass across the mats. Despite his workouts, he’s never too tenderized to turn down Jensen’s offer of a massage coupled with an orgasm before they settle in for a Netflix marathon and a couple of beers.
Living together makes sense, and Jared fits seamlessly into Jensen’s space, but the change isn’t the magic pill Jensen was expecting. The strange behavior and unpredictable emotions that Jared is susceptible to morph into full-fledged symptoms as the weeks go by. Evaluated individually, Jared’s behavior might be attributed to the stress of a bad day, or a disagreement with Jensen. But strung together, they spell out a much larger issue.
Jensen knew about Jared’s sleeplessness, but he’d never realized how many naps Jared took after work to make up for the lack of sleep. Typically his shifts end before Jensen leaves the office, and Jared uses that time to hit the gym (he’d gone back to working out at the VA after he’d moved in), or head home early, but more and more often Jensen comes home and finds Jared sacked out on the couch.
He needs the rest, Jensen keeps telling himself, and devotes more time to finding creative ways to wake Jared.
Jared’s concentration problems are harder to rationalize.
They blow a Sunday afternoon at IKEA and come home with a truckload of boxes to build a new system of shelves in Jensen’s office and a new desk for Jared. It’s exhausting enough without the irritation of having to follow a novel’s worth of Swedish stick drawings, but Jared snaps after five minutes of struggling with the same piece of painted pressboard.
“Dammit,” he curses, pacing across the room. “I can’t. Why do we even need this stupid thing?”
Jensen’s not having much luck either, but he’s taking assembly one step at a time. “I can handle the shelves if you want to start on the desk,” he offers calmly even though he’s ready to gouge an eye out with that stupid hex key.
“I can do it, I just….” Jared groans.
“Alright, take your time.”
That’s not what Jared wants to hear. “I don’t need time, Jen!” he shouts. “It’s just fucking impossible.” Hands on his hips, Jared’s gaze bores holes into the pile of boxes. Jensen lets him fume, steadily working on the section in front of him.
“Can you grab us some water?” Jensen asks when the pressure of Jared’s stare starts to hurt.
“Fine,” Jared mutters, storming out.
Jensen gets little accomplished in the twenty minutes Jared’s gone, listening carefully for slammed doors or angry cursing. There’s nothing but silence in the house until Jared comes back into the office with two glasses of water and a plate with four sandwiches. Keeping his words to a minimum, he apologizes and sets the food on Jensen’s desk, but he doesn’t pick up and start working again.
It takes Jensen all night to put the shelves together (even then, he swears they’re slightly crooked). Jared helps him rearrange furniture, making space for the new desk once it’s finished. Neither mentions Jared’s outburst, but they circle around each other quietly for the rest of the evening until Jared comes to bed. He slides under the covers beside Jensen, kissing him and lifting the tablet from his hands.
Jensen flips him over and makes the most of his apology.
Unfortunately, Jared’s flashpoint anger comes to the surface more and more often. Jensen is continuously adding items to Jared’s list of triggers. Phone calls with his parents. Medical paperwork from the VA. Their cable bill, now in Jared’s name. The evening news. Politics. Celebrity gossip sites. Jensen eventually loses track.
Sometimes his anger burns all night, others it’s snuffed out quickly. Either way, Jensen’s heart hurts. He hates seeing Jared so worked up, helpless to keep a lid on his wildly swinging emotions.
The involuntary rages are hard enough, but it’s the despondence that really scares him.
Ben shows up at basketball one Saturday morning, beaming excitement from head to toe. Before the first game, he tells the group that he’s decided to start classes in the fall in order to become a surgical tech.
“That’s great, man,” Jensen offers his congratulations along with the rest of the group. Ben and DJ are all smiles during the games, flirting non-stop until Jimmy rolls straight through one of their displays of affection, laughing as DJ chases him across the gym. Afterwards, they treat the rest of the group to frozen yogurt. Sprinkles and fruit toppings go a long way towards making up for all the distractions they’d caused on the court.
On their way home in Jared’s truck, Jared looks over and asks, “Do you think I should go back to school?”
“Have you thought about it?”
Jared shrugs, easing into the busy weekend traffic. “Kinda lame to be a wannabe cop for the rest of my life.”
“It’s a good job,” Jensen says. “Steady pay, decent benefits. A lot of people don’t even have that.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure you’re getting sick of introducing me as a friggin’ security guard all the time.”
Jensen huffs. “You seriously think I care?” Jared’s expression doesn’t change. His eyes are on the road, thoughts clearly further away. “Look,” he continues, “if you don’t want to work in security anymore, don’t. Take classes if that’s what you want to do. I just want you to be happy.”
It’s one of the most honest things Jensen’s ever said.
A few days later, Jensen comes home from work and finds Jared surrounded by papers on the couch.
“Did a library explode in here?” Jared doesn’t smile or look up. Jensen picks up the piece of paper closest to his feet. It’s a brochure for a local community college. “Hey, have you been researching classes? That’s awesome, Jared.”
Jared glances at the paper in Jensen’s hand. If Jensen were to drop down and kiss him right now, he’d be able to taste the bitterness. “So you do think I need a new job.”
“That’s not what I said,” Jensen tells him in a hurry, sitting down next to him. “I’m glad you’re looking into your options.”
“It’s all bullshit,” Jared says. He shoves a stack of papers off the couch. “I can’t go back.”
Jensen highly doubts that, but he lets it go. “What were you thinking of studying?”
“Why does it matter? I’m not going.”
Jensen keeps his sigh behind his teeth. “What were you studying before you joined the Army?”
“Architecture,” Jared quietly admits, staring at the television screen like the black void is going to suck him in.
“Any interest in going back to that?”
“Not really.”
“So we can cross that off the list,” Jensen says. “Would you rather take online classes or enroll somewhere like-”
Jared gets up and walks out of the room before Jensen can finish his question.
Jensen lets the cushions swallow him. He has no problem with Jared going back to school; the extra activity and commitment would be positive changes. But he understands how daunting the decision must be for Jared. His last rejection had come from the Army after his hospital stay, and Jensen knows Jared has never worked his way past that. Opening himself up to another rejection would take courage; he needs to show Jared that he’s just as strong now as when he’d served overseas.
For dinner, Jensen throws together two large salads. In Jared’s bowl, he adds extra bell peppers and gorgonzola cheese, cooks a chicken breast in Cholula sauce to slice over the top. Jensen sautés his chicken in olive oil, cuts it into cubes over a bowl of spring mix, tomatoes, feta, and olives. The mixed aromas of chicken, crumbled cheeses, and spices fill the house, but Jared doesn’t reappear.
Jensen eats in the dining room, thumbing through his Facebook feed on his tablet. He hears Jared in the kitchen around eight o’clock and when he takes his empty bowl back, Jared’s food is gone.
The next morning, Jared acts as if nothing’s wrong. He’d avoided Jensen for the rest of the night, absent when Jensen went to bed, but all signs of his silent breakdown are gone when Jensen comes down for coffee. The couch is empty, Jared’s papers are gone. Jared’s waiting in the kitchen, slicing fruit and crushing a pack of granola bars in his fist to make homemade yogurt parfaits.
At the office, while he’s waiting for Jared’s usual latte to finish brewing, Jensen weighs the bad against the good. Jared’s dejection, his match-strike to anger, the nightmares that follow his drinking, against Jared’s never-ending affection, his sense of humor, and his pride in the things he’d accomplished for his country. The ratio still comes out heavily in favor of their relationship, and Jensen breathes a sigh of relief. Deep down, he knows he’d feel it if the relationship turned into something he no longer wanted.
Jared is his usual smiling self when Jensen steps out of the elevator, coffees in hand. It could all be an act, Jared forced to play the part of a charming, personable security guard, but at least he’s here rather than hiding from his life.
“Hey.”
Jared takes his latte with a small smile. “Hey,” he replies, ghosting a touch over Jensen’s fingers. “How’s the day treatin’ you?”
“Better now,” Jensen says. “You?”
“Ready for it to be over.” Jared drops his head, a break in his performance. “I’m kinda tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Jensen refrains from mentioning how common that must be. “My afternoon’s kinda light,” he says instead. “I’ll be able to get outta here early.”
“Seriously?” Jared’s earnest expression touches Jensen’s heart. “I was thinking about going to the range for a bit, blowing off some steam. You wanna head out there with me?”
Shooting is less than a hobby, more like high powered stress relief when Jared needs something more hardcore than the gym. Jensen understands the necessity of it, and doesn’t keep any guns of his own, but every now and then he enjoys emptying a few clips downrange to keep his Citadel skills sharp. Jared uses it to channel his emotions into controlled violence, but he always comes out with steady hands, a calmer heart.
“Sure,” Jensen says, but he wants to get something out of tonight, too. “Sushi after?”
Jared pouts, but Jensen knows better. He’s seen Jared sneak more than one bite of his tempura roll.
“Fine,” Jared says, “but we’re getting fried ice cream.”
The end of July marks one year since Jared was released from the hospital. Surprisingly, Jensen learns the significance of the date from Ben when he asks if Jared has mentioned anything.
Jensen and Ben are the only ones left in the locker room. Jared and DJ are already on their way to Fort Worth to attend a retirement luncheon for one of their former CO’s. Jensen’s just putting the last of his gear back into his duffel when Ben starts talking to him.
“He hasn’t said anything,” Jensen tells Ben, slightly wary. They’re on friendly terms, but Jensen rarely discusses his boyfriend with the guy. The scars are still there. “Why?”
Ben looks sheepish. “You know Jared and I shared a hospital room for a little bit, right?” Jensen nods, and Ben continues. “Well, I got out before he did, but I made a promise to check up on him in a year, no matter where we ended up. He did the same for me.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “But I guess I don’t really need to ask how he’s doing, huh? You’re taking pretty good care of him.”
“Look, Ben-”
“I mean it, okay? I’m not trying to be an asshole. Again.”
Despite himself, Jensen smirks.
“You guys are really good together,” Ben adds. “I’m glad it’s working out.” He deliberately clears his throat. “Jared’s doing okay though…right?”
Jensen knows what Ben’s asking. Not wanting to give away too much, he answers with his own question.
“The way you reacted after your car accident…” Jensen treads carefully, aware of the minefield he’s stepping into. “Was that PTSD?”
“A couple months ago I would’ve decked you just for asking that,” Ben says, shaking his head. He sits on the bench, leaving plenty of room for Jensen. “Which makes the answer kind of obvious, I guess.” There’s a pause. “You’re asking because of Jared, aren’t you?”
Jensen takes the offered seat. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a few concerns.”
“You know, I used to think I was supposed to suffer through all this crap on my own. Figured asking for help made me weak,” Ben admits. “We all went through some shit over there, Jensen, and we’ve all gotta work out a way to deal with it. I thought I was doing okay for a while,” he says quietly, “but I guess I was wrong.”
“What changed your mind?”
Ben blushes. Definitely not the reaction Jensen expects.
“DJ,” he says. “After the car accident, he came over to my place and straightened me out.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
“All it took was a few rounds of screaming, me trying to knock DJ on his ass, and then him laying me out with a nice combo. He had more than a few things to say to me. So yeah,” he snaps his fingers, “it was just like that.”
Jensen imagines Jared would exhibit a similar amount of fight, pride built up like a wall blocking out the sun.
“I’ll always remember what DJ told me,” Ben says. “Well, most of it probably shouldn’t be repeated, but the highlight was that I deserved to live a good life after all I’d done. I served my country, took a fucking bullet to the shoulder,” he curses, sweeping his fingers over his upper arm. “DJ said I’d earned a healthy life, but that I needed to fight for it.” He grins. “And if there’s one thing I’m pretty good at, it’s fighting.”
Jensen has the rest of the day to think about what Ben said. Jared calls while Jensen’s out mowing the lawn and leaves a message saying he and DJ are staying in Fort Worth to have dinner with a few friends they’d met up with at the luncheon.
Ben’s words are an injection of courage, but Jensen needs to translate them into something Jared will accept. History shows that talking to Jared about his symptoms works as well as dousing a fire with alcohol. More often than not, it blows up in Jensen’s face.
Eventually, he needs to conquer his fear of getting burned.
He starts with small suggestions, hoping Jared will come around to the opinion that help, in whatever form, doesn’t make him weak.
“I talked to someone before I was released,” Jared tells him on Sunday night after Jensen hints at the possibility of group therapy.
“For how long?”
Jared stabs his green beans over and over. They’d cooked dinner (for once), bumping hips in the kitchen as they pulled together a meal from scratch. But Jared’s thousand-yard stare at the table put a damper on the occasion. Jensen hates that look, the way Jared’s impassivity steals part of his soul.
“We had a couple of sessions,” Jared says once his focus returns to the table, the food, Jensen. “They were mandatory.”
“Do you ever wish you’d continued with-”
“Is this about my nightmares?” Jared asks, out of the blue. “I’m trying to make sure they won’t bother you.”
“By staying awake all night?” Jensen can’t help himself; the words just slip out. Frustration has short-circuited his brain-to-mouth filter.
Jared’s shoulders slump, his nose twitches. “It works.”
“Does it? You must be exhausted, Jay.”
“I manage,” Jared says, stiff upper lip. “I can do my job.”
“This isn’t about your job.” The food on Jensen’s plate no longer appears appetizing. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. They’re just dreams,” Jared insists.
“Can you at least tell me about them?” Jensen asks.
Jared stares wide-eyed across the table. “Why? Talking about them won’t help, and there’s no way I want you carrying around those images. I can handle it.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Jensen mutters.
Jared’s fork hits the plate with a clang. “Don’t.” He cuts his teeth on the word. “Just don’t.”
Jensen watches Jared go through the motions to physically contain his aggression. Arms fall to his sides; no doubt his fists are clenched over his lap. Shoulders square, some slack in the set of his jaw.
“I’m okay, Jensen. Seriously,” he says with a voice as robust as tissue paper. “It’s been over a year since my convoy was hit.”
That, right there, is more of a description than Jensen’s ever gotten.
“This stuff takes time to get over,” Jared’s saying. “So I just need more time, okay? The nightmares won’t last forever. If they really bother you, I can sleep in the other room…”
Jensen shakes his head. “That’s the last thing I want.”
The temperature in the room rises with Jared’s smile. He picks up his fork and starts eating again, as if the issue’s been resolved to everyone’s satisfaction.
Feeling restless after dinner, Jensen decides to go for a run. He pokes his head into the office where Jared is typing away on his laptop.
“A late night run…” Jared leans back in his chair. “Should I be worried?”
Jensen slaps his belly. “Gotta work off some of this,” he jokes, knowing full well how much Jared likes his stomach the way it is, valleys in all the right places and sporting a lightly bronzed summer glow. He hears Jared’s, “Love you,” as he’s walking away.
In the dark, Jensen sticks to a well-known route, pounding the pavement with rhythmic slaps of sole to street. He runs two miles out until his phone lights up with more than one text from Jared, interrupting his playlist.
-I’m already in bed.
-Waiting for you.
-Naked.
-Just thought you should know.
Jensen’s never covered the two miles it takes to get home faster in his life.
Jared is waiting for him, naked as promised. He’s got the bottle of lube in his hand, condoms on the nightstand. In a split-second ruling, Jensen decides he wants Jared to fuck him.
Jared looks at Jensen like he’s lobbying for the reinstatement of Pluto as a planet.
“Seriously?” Jared scoots over as Jensen hops into bed, his sneakers and running clothes littering the floor. “I kind of thought…”
“That I wouldn’t bottom for you?” Jensen asks, breathless. The endorphins have taken control; there’s pleasure in everything Jensen sees and touches. He demonstrates just how ridiculous Jared’s assumption is by straddling his hips and grabbing the lube. “You want to, right?”
“Fuck yes.”
That’s all Jensen needs to hear.
With his knees wide, Jensen’s quads are burning. Jared steadies him with a one hand around his hip, the other squeezing his ass. Low on patience and unwilling to wait through prep, Jensen opens himself, well aware of what Jared is packing. He’s measured it with his hands and lips, knows exactly how it fits against his own. And now-finally-Jensen has Jared inside of him.
Jared is slotted behind him, undulating into his body and forcing the breath past Jensen’s lips with every thrust. He’s never silent, groans and grunts, dirty words and gasps of love. Jensen soaks up every sound, but nothing trumps the feeling of fullness, the way the entire lower half of his body adjusts to accommodate Jared’s cock.
It’s magnificent, but it gets even better when Jared rears back and forces Jensen onto his stomach. He fills Jensen all over again, taking him to the brink as his dog tags swing up and down Jensen’s spine with every thrust. Jared folds his fingers through Jensen’s, nails him to the bed and takes. And Jensen loves every fucking minute of it.
Jensen’s a useless wreck once Jared is through with him. He can barely lift his head onto the pillow, arms and legs useless from the extra exertion, but he’s never felt better. Jared’s smug little leer hangs around while he tosses the condom and cleans up, making sure Jensen doesn’t pass out in his own come.
“You’re a great boyfriend,” he mumbles.
“I must’ve been really good for you to say such sweet things,” Jared teases, crawling into bed. He reaches over Jensen and grabs his tablet off the nightstand. “You mind?”
Jensen can’t even move.
Eventually, he summons the energy to roll against Jared’s side, pulling the headphones away from Jared’s ears. Jared hits pause on his video.
“All better?”
Jensen nods and leans up on steady arms to kiss Jared’s absurdly pink lips. Most of his anxiety is gone, well and truly fucked out of him, but in the quiet, he’s compelled to address one more concern.
“Promise me something?”
“What’s that?” Jared asks, setting the tablet aside. “To fuck you like that more often?”
“Well, yeah. Definitely.” Sex needs to be in the cards way more often. “But about before…” Jared tenses and Jensen immediately rubs his chest. “No, it’s okay. Just talk to me if you get overwhelmed.”
It takes a few minutes during which Jensen fears he’s toppled the entire house of cards, but Jared finally nods. His promise is a silent one, but Jensen accepts it nonetheless. And he intends on holding Jared to that promise, bar nothing.
Jensen falls asleep soon after, more settled than he’s felt in weeks. He never sees the patch of bad luck he’s about to hit.
PART FIVE.