Fiction: And It's a Whole New Ball Game, pt. 2 of 2 (CW RPS; JA/JP)
Title: And It's a Whole New Ball Game
Author: kestrelsan
Pairing: JA/JP; CMM, CK
Rating: Adult
Warnings: AU, Chad, baseball
Word Count: 14,821 words
Notes: Many thanks to prillalar for beta and title mojo.
Summary: "Don't tell me about the world. Not today. It's springtime and they're knocking baseball around fields where the grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball." - Pete Hamill
You can also view the whole thing at my website here.
Part 1
He gives it a week before calling Jensen. "Man, the post-season sucks."
"Tell me about it," Jensen says, with feeling.
Jensen knows a good place for seafood, so he gives Jared directions to meet him at his place; he lives across the harbor from the stadium, all red brick townhouses and restaurants and gourmet kitchen shops on hill-stretched streets overlooking the water. There's only street parking and the streets are packed, and Jared ends up driving around the block for ten minutes before someone finally pulls out.
Jensen's place is nice, and it's the only one on the block that doesn't have flower pots in the window. Jensen answers the door in jeans and a faded zip-necked pullover. He's got a couple days worth of stubble and is wearing this beat-up baseball cap, not even a team hat but something you'd get from the Gap or Abercrombie or something.
"Man, you look like shit," Jared says, and he gets one of Jensen's startled laughs.
"Yeah, my neighbor's dog's been yapping under my window every morning the last week. I've been sleeping for shit."
"Your neighbor has a dog?" Jared says, and Jensen catches the look in his eye.
"I'm not going to introduce you to the fucking dog, Jared." He grabs his keys and wallet from the table next to the front door and locks it behind them.
The place is just down the street, and it turns out it's this seafood market that takes up most of a block. It's packed, crowds congregating around vendors and in the aisles, and Jared shoulders past them as he follows Jensen down to the end. The smell of fish is everywhere, but it's fresh fish, and smells kind of like the beach.
Jensen picks up a couple of bottles of beer from a vendor then leads Jared to a seafood bar set up in the corner, where they get a pound of steamed shrimp and some sushi.
"Man, they put this shit on everything," Jensen bitches, scraping off the seasoning that comes on the shrimp. Jared kind of likes it. His hands are covered in it, but he just licks it off and wipes them on a huge stack of napkins.
"You been catching any games?"
"Saw Boston put the low-down on Anaheim last night, and man, that was a sweet catch at the end." Jensen drinks his beer. "But mostly it just pisses me off to be watching and not playing, so not so much."
"Been doing anything else?"
Jensen shrugs. "Just frying my brain in front of the TV and not thinking about baseball. You?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Jared says. "Chad invited the girls from downstairs up, and they don't even like him, because no one likes Chad, but it turned into this big thing with people and beer and crap everywhere, and someone puked in my bed, no kidding."
"Thanks for the play-by-play, Jay," Jensen says, but already he looks more relaxed and less like a vivarin addict.
Jensen's got Syriana and Mystic River and some foreign thing out on DVD, so they head back to his place after finishing off the shrimp. Jared votes for Mystic River because he's already seen Syriana and he's not that into subtitles, though when he reads the description of the foreign film he kind of regrets his choice, since it seems to be all about French chicks making out.
Halfway through the movie, Jensen falls asleep. He's curled up in the corner of the couch, knees pulled up and his head on the armrest, and his hat's pushed back to reveal hair flattened in all kinds of crazy angles. Jared carefully lifts it the rest of the way off and puts it on the coffee table.
He takes their empty beer bottles into the kitchen. Jensen's got a nice place, narrow with an exposed brick wall and hardwood floors, and he's ridiculously tidy. The kitchen looks like he doesn't even use it. Jared washes out the bottles and leaves them on the counter next to the sink.
When he gets back, Jensen wakes up a little. "What'd I miss?" he says, confused and sleepy.
"All the stuff where they join the Jim Rose circus," Jared says, and Jensen blinks. "Go back to sleep, man. I'm just gonna hang and finish the movie," he says, because he is actually interested in how it turns out.
Jensen falls back asleep in the middle of nodding. Jared watches the movie, wonders how it is that Sean Penn is fucking cool in everything, because you'd think the guy would have a couple of dud films. He turns the TV off when it's over and leaves Jensen a note on a pad of paper he finds in the kitchen, tells him that the IMAX theater is showing something on deep sea expeditions and he'll pick him up tomorrow at two.
Chad's out when he gets back to the apartment. There's a game still going on and Jared watches it for a while, but Jensen's right, it does sort of piss him off not to be out there, so he turns it off in the seventh inning when Boston goes up by three.
****
The deep sea thing is awesome, and it takes Jared a few minutes to adjust to the world above water when they get out. They end up walking along the harbor; it's a nice day, cool, and lots of other people are out walking around.
"Okay, biggest influence," Jensen says.
"Baseball?" Jared asks. Jensen gives him a yeah, dumbass look, so Jared thinks. "Player or coach?"
"Either," Jensen says.
"Okay, but you're totally going to get the wrong idea." Jensen raises an eyebrow. "My older brother played in high school so we'd go to his games, and one of the pitchers on his team -- I don't know, he always had this look like he was completely focused but not there at the same time, you know? Like pitching opened up this whole other world for him and he was addicted to it. In a good way, not a heroin way. And it made me think that pitching might be worth trying to be good at, like there was something more there than just throwing a ball for someone to hit."
Jensen's quiet a moment. "Aw, Jared, you had a boy crush."
Jared laughs and ducks his head. "Whatever, man. I said you'd get the wrong idea. So, my turn to mock your lame-ass story."
"I was just gonna say Lou Whitaker and Sandy Alomar. I didn't know you were going to get all deep on me."
"Asshole," Jared says, and Jensen gives him a push, but they're not close enough to the water, and besides, Jared's got four inches on him.
After a bit they head back to Jared's car. Chad's making him double-date with the girls downstairs, who still don't like Chad so Jared's not sure how he talked them into that.
"So, Chris has this thing tomorrow night," Jensen says. "His band's playing over in Canton."
"Chris has a band? Seriously?"
"Yeah, just something he fucks around with in the off-season." Jensen rubs the back of his head, looks out over the water like he's suddenly uncertain. "You in?"
"Is he any good?" Jared asks, and Jensen laughs.
"Good enough for your lame taste in music. I'm heading out around nine, so just come over."
"Sure, yeah," Jared says, and Jensen gives him a little wave as he walks back to his townhouse.
The double-date's okay; it turns out the girls follow baseball, which is how Chad got them to go out with them. It's not terrible, even when they're going on at the restaurant about watching him the end of the season, and some people hear them and look over and act like they recognize him, too, even though they probably don't have a clue.
Jared thinks this is exactly the kind of benefit he should be able to enjoy, but he never really gets past embarrassment.
The one he seems to be paired up with is Kristen, and she's sweet with caramel-colored hair. He walks her to her door, which is obviously her rommate's door as well, but Chad ditched them at the stairs because he thinks women actually like that kind of behavior.
"Sorry we sort of fangirled you all night," Kristen says, as Jenna slips past them into the apartment.
"Yeah, I'm really struggling with the hero worship," Jared teases, and she smiles. She's standing there awkwardly, so he kisses her on the cheek and says goodnight, and wonders why he didn't get her number at least.
"Man, I thought she'd put out for you, big baseball player and all," Chad says when he gets upstairs. "Did you even try?"
"Maybe I'm not an asshole," Jared says, and Chad rolls his eyes.
****
It turns out Chris's band is pretty good, though not really Jared's type of music. He makes conversation with Jensen for a bit, but he can see Jensen's really into the band so he just drinks his beer and checks out the place. They're in the one bar in Canton that hasn't gone trendy, though there are some college kids mixed in with the good old boys and the bar has Blue Moon on tap, so it's probably just a matter of time.
Chris comes over after the set and slings an arm around Jensen. He's sweaty, satiated, and Jared wonders if music and catching go together somehow, if Chris keeps them separate in his head or if it's all seasonal.
"Boys, you hangin' out?" Chris says. "'Cause we're heading across the street to the club."
Jensen looks like he's about to pass, so Jared kicks him under the table. "Jensen, come on."
The club's tiny and upstairs from this dive bar that's packed with twenty-somethings watching a boxing match. It's hot up there, music blaring and wall to wall people and a rickety wooden dance floor that hasn't dissuaded anyone from getting out there, but that's probably because there's nowhere else to stand.
It's absolutely Jared's type of music, and he'd get out there if he didn't look like such a moron when he danced.
"Dude, it's Fergie," Jensen says. He leans back against an empty patch of bar and drinks the beer Chris handed him before he disappeared. Jared drinks his like water, it's that hot up there.
"You are a serious snob," Jared says, and he has to shout above the music.
"And that's bad?" Jensen says, also shouting.
They can't hold a conversation, so Jared just drinks his beer and watches the people out on the dance floor. Video screens are flashing along the walls, not even music videos but weird shit, all abstract and probably deeply meaningful, except like Jensen said, it's Fergie.
A girl comes over to Jensen, who ducks his head to hear what she's saying. Jared can't hear them but he's kind of curious what Jensen does in those situations, because it's not like Jensen is ugly. And who knows, maybe he dates girls, too. But Jensen's just talking to her, nodding every once in a while at whatever she's saying. Then she pulls him out to the dance floor and Jared catches the look on Jensen's face, deer in the headlights before he follows her, and then Jared starts cracking up because man, he thought he looked bad on a dance floor.
"Fuck off," Jensen says when he gets back, sweat-soaked and disgruntled, but Jared can't stop laughing.
"Man, why would you even do that to yourself?"
"Seriously, can we get out of here now?" Jensen says, and Jared can tell he's pissed. Jared's just wishing he thought to pull his camera phone out, because that had been priceless.
Jensen's quiet on the ride back to his place. They're almost there when Jensen's eyes flick over. "What," he says, and Jared realizes he's been staring at him the last few minutes.
"Sorry," Jared says, and looks back at the window. He's buzzing, the beer hitting him harder than expected, but he really pounded that last one. "Can I hang at your place a couple hours? I probably shouldn't be driving."
"You can crash if you want," Jensen says. "There's a bed in the other bedroom."
"Yeah, sounds good. Thanks."
They get inside and Jensen throws his keys in the direction of the coffee table. "Just, you know, make yourself at home and all that. I'm gonna shower."
Jensen disappears upstairs and Jared searches for and finds the remote. He catches the recap of the game on ESPN, St. Louis closing out L.A., then wanders into the kitchen on the tail end of realizing he's ravenous.
He finds a half-full carton of chinese that smells all right, a jar of peanut butter, which throws him because he'd never known anyone to keep peanut butter in the fridge; cheese that's not wrapped in individual slices, but Jared grabs it anyway, and an open can of peach slices. There's bread on the counter and a bag of tomatoes, so Jared gets out a plate and starts piling food on.
Jensen comes into the kitchen smelling like soap. He's wearing frayed sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he eyes Jared's mini-feast.
"You don't mind, do you?" Jared asks, and Jensen shakes his head.
"No, man, course not. Just that -- Jesus, Jared. Eclectic food tastes much?"
Jared laughs and puts the plate in the middle of the small table pushed up against the kitchen wall. "I'll even share," he says, and Jensen takes the other chair.
Peanut butter from the fridge is hard to spread, and Jared mangles a bread slice before rolling it up and eating it with some cheese. Jensen looks a little grossed out, but he picks at the chinese food and eats some tomato slices.
"You play Fantasy Football?" Jared asks.
"What?"
Jared gives him the rundown of his team, what his trade options are, how half of them are injured and he's playing with, like, eight guys, and he lists the stat categories for each of them.
"What the hell, man."
"I know, I'm dead last in the league," Jared says, and he's just finished swallowing a cheese slice when Jensen shifts forward and puts his hand on the side of Jared's chair, leans in and kisses him. Jared's mouth is open so he gets a lot of Jensen's lips and the tip of Jensen's tongue flicking the inside of his mouth, and Jared grips the edge of the table when Jensen's lips move over his bottom lip and tug a little.
When Jensen pulls back his eyes are this fucking deep dark green and his lips are red when he wets them, and Jared's completely out of his depth. Talk about coming out of left field.
"Um," he says.
"Yeah, wow," Jensen says. "Sorry." He doesn't look sorry at all.
"So this," Jared attempts, "that was just a, a fluke or something? Or -- " and he breaks off, because he's reeling a little, and he's not sure he wants it to be a fluke. He can still feel Jensen's lips on his and fuck, it's Jensen, who's really fucking hot, but more than that Jared likes him, thinks he's one of the coolest guys he knows, dancing ability aside. But it all feels so wide open, like he's dangling over the ocean without a foothold.
"Hey, it's cool," Jensen says, and he sounds disappointed, maybe a little frustrated, but he just rubs the back of his neck and stares at a piece of wall over the table. "Look, I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
Jared nods and kicks himself for being a goddamned idiot. He cleans up after Jensen goes upstairs, then catches a few hours of sleep on the couch. He wakes up a little before dawn and drives back to Bowie in the dark with his eyes still dry from sleep.
****
Chad's a pretty good guy to hang out with for not thinking about things, because Chad spends most of his non-working hours watching porn or playing Tekken Tag Tournament, which for Chad are pretty much the same thing. Five hours of getting his ass kicked and a case of beer later, Jared breaks down and tells him everything, but Chad just says, "So wait, is fucking guys like a baseball thing?" before going back to the game.
"We're not fucking," Jared says, but his mind's already gone there. He thinks about Jensen's hand on his cock, Jensen sucking him off, what Jensen looks like after sex. He shifts a little on the couch. "Fuck."
"He go down on you?" Chad asks.
"Do you have any life at all?" Jared says, like he wasn't just imagining it.
Chad's not helping, so Jared loses the next game and goes back to his room, screws around on the computer, opens up the new Sports Illustrated but it's all about either baseball or football and he's losing at both right now.
He picks up the phone and calls Jensen.
"Dude, my living room's been invaded by a hornet the size of a cow."
Jared pauses to regroup. "Did you try shooing it out the door?"
"I'm not a moron, so yes. But this fucking bee is, because it has no idea where salvation lies. Fuck."
"He get you?"
"No, just circling in for the kill." There's a loud thwack and a beat of silence. "Okay, that's just gross," Jensen says, and Jared bites back a laugh. He plays with the pen on his desk, scrawls a few doodles in the margins of the football league standings he printed out the other day.
"I'm sorry for taking off this morning," he says. Jensen clears his throat before answering.
"I shouldn't have, you know."
"No, it's okay," Jared says. "I mean." He puts down the pen, pulls at the back of his hair, stares at the wall. Jensen's not making this easy. "Do you want to catch a movie tomorrow or something?"
There's a pause. "Are you asking me on a date?" Jensen says, and Jared suspects he's laughing at him.
"Fuck, man," Jared says, helpless, and now Jensen really is laughing.
"Yeah, sure," he says. "Just pick me up, and, you know, bring flowers or something."
"Man, you suck," Jared says. "I'll pick you up at eight," he adds, and Jensen's still laughing when he hangs up.
Jensen accepts the can of bee-killer spray Jared hands him when he picks him up, makes a crack about cheap gifts, but Jared figures he's getting off easy, all things considered. Still, it does feel ridiculously like a date, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands when they're sitting in the movie theater. He can't get comfortable, keeps moving around in the seat, and Jensen leans over.
"Dude, chill out," he says, and Jared glares at him.
"You think this is hilarious," he says.
"Yeah, little bit," Jensen says. He shifts in his seat and his knee brushes up against Jared's, and it's a small thing but Jared feels it down to his dick. Then Jensen's leaning over again. "You want to get out of here?" he asks.
"Fuck, yes," Jared says, and they make it out the side exit.
They're on the highway back to the city when Jensen says, "Just so you know, I absolutely put out on the first date."
"Man, you're never letting that go," Jared says, but he's already thinking about what that entails, and he's not nervous, exactly, just feels like he has no real idea what he's getting into. But when they get back to the house, Jensen just eyes him a little, and maybe Jared looks panicked or something because he heads for the kitchen.
"You want a beer?"
"Yeah," Jared says, a little relieved. Jensen brings back a couple of bottles and sits next to him on the couch. They drink their beers and Jensen's not saying anything, and Jared realizes Jensen's waiting because it's his move now.
So Jared puts down his beer, slides his arm down the back of the couch and leans over, doesn't know what kind of kiss it's going to be but it comes out slow, a first-date kiss with a little tongue and a lot of lips, easing into Jensen's mouth and taking his time to work the right angle to go in deeper. It's hot, or at least Jared thinks it is, and the pace is killing him, and Jensen's eyes are a little glassy when Jared pulls back.
"Um," Jensen says, and wets his lips.
"Yeah?" Jared says, feeling like a kid asking if his drawing's any good.
"Yeah," Jensen says, and slides his hand along Jared's thigh up to his hip. Jared's stomach jumps when Jensen runs his hand under his shirt and thumbs the curve of his ribs. They're in no position for the kind of kissing Jared wants to do, but then Jensen hooks his leg over Jared's until he's practically in Jared's lap, and it's hot like Jared didn't think even sex could be.
"Fuck," Jared breathes, and shifts a little. He can feel the press of Jensen's dick on his thigh and he finds Jensen's hips to pull him closer, hands slipping on Jensen's jeans but it's enough to rock him forward a little, and just Jesus.
"Yeah," Jensen agrees. His hands are working on Jared's fly and he's kissing him at the same time. He's got Jared's cock in his hand and Jared's head rolls back, eyes closing, because Christ, yes, it's really fucking good. Jensen's at his throat, scraping teeth down his skin as he rubs the head of Jared's cock with his thumb then down along the length, and it's so much better than Jared's fantasy of it that it doesn't take much more than Jensen pressing down hard before he's coming, hips bucking into Jensen's grip.
"Jesus Christ," Jared says. Jensen laughs a little into his neck, and licks the underside of his jaw.
"You coming upstairs?" he asks.
"Hell, yes," Jared says.
It's not until they're in Jensen's room that Jared starts to feel weird. Kissing and a hand job on the sofa is one thing, but Jensen's bed is, like, intimate, and Jared has no clue what he should be doing. Jensen seems cool with it; he's busy sucking the hollow of Jared's throat, and it's great, but Jared figures he needs to start pulling his weight.
So he ventures down Jensen's hip and brushes over his stomach, and Jensen's making encouraging noises so he closes his hand around Jensen's cock and strokes down, and he knows it's rough but Jensen just pushes into it. Jensen has no problem showing Jared exactly where he wants him to put his hand, Jared's fingers stroking over his balls, pressing down between them, and Jared's cool with the direction at first then decides to go off script, scrapes his thumbnail under the ridge of Jensen's cock.
"Fuck yes," Jensen swears, and bucks up under him. He comes in a stream of muttered obscenities, and Jared would laugh if he wasn't so distracted.
Jensen's got his arm slung over Jared's waist, and he's rolled up against him like he's settling in for the night. "Dude, you're a cuddler."
"Fuck off," Jensen mutters.
Jared finds that hilarious, and he's laughing even after Jensen jabs him in the ribs.
****
Jared takes to gay sex like he would a new pitch, because there's the mechanics of it, sure, but mostly it's about feel, getting familiar with how it's done and making the connection between his brain and the plate. He goes down on Jensen in the shower, and it's like neural connections start forming in his head encoding the taste of a guy's dick, how it stretches his mouth and throat until he's almost gagging, the smell and weight of it.
Jensen lets him fuck him a few nights after, and it's the most awkward Jared's ever been with sex. But then Jensen pushes down on him and his ass is squeezing Jared's cock until he can't breathe, and he pulls Jensen up by the waist and mouths along the ridge of his back, tastes sweat as he reaches for Jensen's cock and it's easier this way, more like jacking off, and Jensen seems to appreciate it too because he's spilling over Jared's hand with a cut-off groan.
The sex is great, but it's more than that. Jensen's moody and he has weird habits, like the peanut butter in the fridge thing, and the way he won't say Roy Campanella's name out loud, ever, because he thinks it invokes his spirit and you didn't do that in vain. And yeah, everyone in baseball had their quirks, but it wasn't a quirk with Jensen, just his weird way of living in the world.
And he's all about marathon makeout sessions in front of the TV. Jared's never felt so gay and fifteen but he fucking loves it, could kiss Jensen for hours, and when Jensen falls asleep in the middle of one he thinks it's kind of cute, though it's days before he lets Jensen forget it.
Jared goes out to play with Jensen's neighbor's dog over the short fence between the yards. Jensen's standing in the back doorway, mutters, "Christ," but when Jared glances over he's got this look in his eye like Jared surprises him, like he can't figure him out, and Jared thinks that's weird enough that he talks him into coming out to play with the dog, too.
They're screwing around in bed when Jensen slides a finger in his ass, and Jared twitches a little, but Jensen mouths his dick and spreads lube on his fingers, slides two in and Jared tries to relax, wants this to be something he's okay with but he's not at all sure. "It's okay," Jensen murmurs, and he thumbs the back of Jared's balls and brushes his prostate, jerks Jared off while his fingers stroke in and out of his ass.
Jensen rolls the condom over his dick and eases in slowly. "Fuck, Jared," he says, and he feels huge. Jensen braces himself on his elbows, and Jared's pretty sure this isn't going to work, because already it hurts like hell.
Jensen kisses him, makes the kiss slow and dirty until Jared's breathing hard and pushing into him. Jensen slides in, the burn of it easing off, and he's saying, "It's okay, you're good, you're fucking amazing, Jared," and he keeps up the litany until Jared hooks his legs behind Jensen's ass to bring him in hard, because it's so fucking good.
****
Mia calls while they're watching the third game of the Series, because Jared's never missed a Series yet.
"Look, they really want you, Jared. And they made an offer, but I think it's low, so I'm going to bump it up and go back to them. And D.C.'s interested, too, and I know you don't want to switch leagues, but we can use it. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Jared says, and they talk through what Mia's going back with. When he hangs up, Jensen glances at him.
"Agent?" he asks, and Jared tosses his phone on the coffee table.
"I feel like fucking market meat. Tell me you're not going through this."
Jensen shrugs and turns back to the TV. "I had a one-year contract." Jared looks at him until Jensen glances over, irritated. "What?"
"You're not back next year?" And Jared doesn't know why he just assumed he would be, except that, oh right, Jensen never said otherwise.
"Yeah maybe, if they renew the contract. There are other clubs. Or maybe I'll just get the hell out, work at Sears."
"It's not funny. I mean, were you going to tell me that you don't know where you're going to fucking be next year?"
"Jared," Jensen says. "What's your issue with this?"
Jared flounders, because he thinks it should be obvious, and the fact that it's not obvious throws him off. "Do you really think it wouldn't matter? Because that's kind of fucked up."
Jensen rubs the back of his neck. "I don't think that."
"Then what the hell?"
"Can we not talk about this?" Jensen says, and Jared looks at him and doesn't push it. They finish watching the game, but Jared has no idea who ends up winning.
The next night Jensen meets him at the door with his keys and wallet. "You play pool?" he says, and Jared nods, a little startled, but he follows Jensen down the street to a bar that looks like it hasn't been cleaned since 1982, two pool tables in the back and a haze of smoke over everything.
Jensen starts in on the bottles right away, and Jared nurses his because Jensen's pounding them back like it's fruit juice; he's in a mood, talks to Jared over the pool table when they're playing doubles with a couple of guys, but there's something off and Jared's never seen him so…assholish, like he's pissed at Jared or the world or god knows what, and it makes him a little mean. Jared goes to the bathroom and when he comes out, Jensen's in one of the guys' faces and they're trading shit about something to do with the fucking pool game, shouting, and Jared sees Jensen pull back to take a swing before he gets there and grabs his arm.
The guy backs off, not wanting to take on both of them, and Jensen shakes off Jared's arm. "Get off."
"Jensen, what the fuck," Jared says, and he's been bewildered the whole night but now he's just pissed.
"For Christ's sake, Jared," Jensen says, and shoulders his way out of the bar.
Jared follows, still pissed but a little worried, too, because this is beyond any fallout from last night. He catches up with him at the house, and Jensen doesn't even look at him, just sits on the couch and rubs his hands down his face.
"Okay, you've officially weirded me out," Jared says, but Jensen just stares ahead.
"Man, what are you still doing here, Jay."
Jared stands inside the door uncertainly, closes it and sits on the couch next to him. "Did something happen? Because this is kind of fucked up, and I don't know what the hell is going on."
"Nothing's happened," Jensen says, like Jared's an idiot for asking. "I don't know what you think's gonna come out of this, but come on, Jared, wise up."
Jared stares at him, amazed. "What comes out of us fucking? Because it's kind of working for me."
"You're also twenty-two years old and getting your first big break, and you don't fuck with that, Jay, I'm serious. Maybe you think it's gonna be okay with Major League baseball and everyone who watches it that we're fucking, but you're not stupid so I know you know it doesn't work that way."
And yeah, Jared's not, but this is still a dumb conversation. "I could blow my arm out next week and never play again."
"Yeah, well, no sense making it harder on yourself than it already is," Jensen says, and Jared knows he's thinking about Cahill in the locker room.
"I don't know what to tell you," Jared says, and he hates the stupid, utter inadequacy of that, but it's not like he can change the mind of baseball, or the media, or the freaking baseball commissioner. "But I'm not taking off, okay? Even though you were a complete prick back there," he adds, and Jensen cracks a smile.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Okay."
****
Jensen calls the next night and Jared can tell he's kind of sorry about things, so he comes over and Jensen's all over him when he gets there, pushes him up against the front door and works the fly of his jeans open, and it doesn't take much more than that to get Jared hard. Jensen sucks him down, throat tight around the head of his cock, and Jared curls his fingers through Jensen's short hair and comes hard and fast.
They make it upstairs later and Jared fucks him, slow and sweet until Jensen's clawing at him at the end, hips twisting down on his cock, and Jared knows he's going to have bruises on his arms. He draws it out as much as he can until Jensen says he's going to fucking kill him if he doesn't finish it, and Jared makes him pay for that a little before bringing him off.
He sprawls out like a rag doll on Jensen's bed, sweat still sticking to his forehead. Jensen's eyes are closed and he's relaxed like he only is when he's sleeping or right after sex, eyelids weighted and his mouth turned down a little. He opens his eyes and he's still relaxed, but he also looks a little like he's facing down a runner from third with the ball in his glove.
"I'm taking off for Dallas tomorrow."
Jared blinks at the ceiling, because they'd just spent two hours fucking and Jensen hadn't said it like he was inviting him along. "Okay, um. For how long?"
"I don't know. Couple of weeks." Jensen wedges a pillow under his head. "You need to start thinking about your contract," he says, and Jared blows out his breath, exasperated, because he doesn't see how they're back to this, and he's not sure he even cares about the fucking contract. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you need to get it done and it needs to be good, and you've got a small window right now to make sure that happens before they forget what you did for them at the end of the season or something gets out to fuck it up."
"What does that have to do with you going to Dallas?" he asks, and Jensen doesn't answer right away.
"I think we should give it a break for a while, let things settle."
"Christ," Jared says, because that's not at all what he wants, but a part of him tells him Jensen's not wrong, either, and that the rest of the world isn't going to see things their way. "Okay," he says, and Jensen relaxes a little. "What time's your flight?"
"Eleven," Jensen says.
"You need a ride to the airport?" he asks, and Jensen just looks at him.
"Jared," he says, but Jared doesn't want to hear it. He rolls over until his head's buried between Jensen's head and his shoulder, breathing through Jensen's skin and sweat and thinking sex is just like Jensen catching for him or hanging out on the road or pigging out on Jensen's food, like it's all part of the same package, except he knows that's not how it works.
****
Jensen doesn't call, and when Jared's cell phone does finally ring it's his mom. She's telling him about running into the mother of one of his high school teammates, and Marc's doing fine, just graduated college and is working at a grocery store or something, and Jared's wondering what she'd say if he told her about Jensen, except that Mom, I'm fucking a guy isn't something he'd ever say to his mother.
He even calls Sid, who seems glad to hear from him. Jared says yes when Sid invites him over for lunch, because Sid sounds bored and lonely and Jared doesn't have anything else to do. Sid has a small house right outside the city in a neighborhood that actually has old guys sitting on benches in front of storefronts watching people walk by.
His house smells like peeling wallpaper and age. He's got pictures everywhere, mostly pitchers he worked with and other ballplayers and coaches, some of the old ballpark before they tore it down. There's a sunroom off the back he makes Jared sit down in while he brings out lunch, and it turns out Sid is a pretty good cook.
"You been working your arm?" Sid asks, and Jared ducks his head, because he's been working out some but not really.
"Yeah, a little," he says.
"Better none than too much," Sid says, and Jared still can't get anything past him.
Jared's not sure why he's here except that Sid lives baseball and has a million stories to tell, but he's not one of those oldtimers who can't get past how great the game used to be, because Sid likes how it's changed, too, the better equipment, greater safety concerns, keener competition. He knows its faults but he still thinks the game's worth it, that change is more good than not.
Jared thanks Sid for the lunch and calls Mia on the drive home.
"Jared, great, I'm glad you called because we're making progress." She runs down the current offer, and Jared nods into the phone and makes the appropriate noises until she finally winds down.
"You think you could come down here?" he asks, and there's a brief pause.
"Of course, Jared, we should meet up," she says, and he knows the last thing she wants to do is fly down here to hold some rookie pitcher's hand for a contract that's not a tenth of her bigger clients, but she's a good agent and knows how to fake it.
They set up a day and time, and Jared names one of the restaurants in the harbor because he can't think of anywhere else. He closes his phone and tosses it on the seat, drives back to Bowie and sleeps for what feels like a week.
****
Mia's tiny with thick black hair, and the few times Jared's met her in person she's always been smart and funny and eats more than Jared, but now she's just staring at him in horror.
"Tell me you're kidding," she says, and he can see panic setting in. "Jared, if I told them you'd play for them just because you love the fucking game we'd be in better bargaining position than if I go back to them with this."
It takes another hour and two martinis before he wears her down, and he can see she's thinking about fobbing him off on another agent, so he talks her out of that, too. She's really not happy, though, and when Jared calls a cab to take her back to the airport she pauses before getting in.
"You have contingency plans, right? For when this blows up in your face and you're serving fries to drunk teenagers?"
"Come on, there's always Applebee's," he says, but she just gets in the cab like she's already wasted enough time humoring stupid athletes.
Back at the apartment he thinks about calling Jensen, even though Jensen hasn't called, but the ball's in both their courts with no place to hit it, not yet, so he talks Chad into watching something other than porn and hangs out for a few hours. He wonders when the stupidity of what he just did will hit him, because he just feels weirdly calm.
Mia calls a few nights after that, and she sounds so tired and frayed that Jared pictures her in her office with bloodshot eyes and a jumbo mug of coffee. "They came down on bonuses but we can still work with it, and they're fine as long as there's no media announcements or flaunting during the season."
Jared blinks. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know, Jared, maybe they just don't want you to stick your tongue down some guy's throat in the post-game interview, okay? Come on, this is a lot better than I thought we'd get."
"Just a sec," Jared says, and he puts the phone down on his desk. He stares at the wall for a few seconds, considers his options, but the flaunting thing is just bullshit. He gets back on the line. "Tell them no conditions."
"God damn it, Jared."
"Mia, seriously, get some sleep, you're gonna have a breakdown at the office," he says, and instead of more swearing he just gets silence.
"You owe me huge for this, Jared," she says, and rings off.
When she calls back a few nights later, she still sounds tired. "Look, they want to talk to you. And normally I'd tell them to blow themselves, but I think it's a good idea."
"Yeah, okay," Jared says, not entirely surprised, but not looking forward to it, either. "When?"
"Tomorrow at two at the front office. I'll pick you up, okay?"
Jared's never been in the front office before, and he's glad there's an assistant there to meet them. She leads them down long endless hallways and doors that all look the same, and there's no one he knows from the organization behind the one she opens, just three guys in suits. One of them stands up and shakes Jared's hand.
"Thanks for coming down, Jared," he says, and pulls out chairs for him and Mia. They all sit down and go through a round of introductions that Jared doesn't remember any of, and Jared feels like he'd rather be closing out a one-run game against the league's top hitter than talking with these guys.
"We really like what you did at the end of the season," the guy in the blue suit says. "We want to make this work."
"I'd like that, too," Jared says.
Another one speaks up. His suit is grey. "You understand that there's a certain kind of attention that the organization, and baseball, would rather avoid."
"What, like another steroids scandal?" Jared says, and Mia winces next to him.
"Like that," grey suit agrees. "Most of our support comes from the family sector, and we'd like to keep it that way."
"There are all kinds of families," Jared says, but then Mia steps in.
"I think it can be agreed that we're all here for the interests of baseball. Jared's not trying to endanger that, we just want reassurance that his contract can't be terminated for a personal preference."
The guy who first shook Jared's hand nods. "And we're willing to ensure that, with a few conditions."
"No," Jared says. "I'm not going to sign anything that says I'm okay sneaking around, like being in a relationship with someone violates some morality clause."
"Jared, what we're asking isn't unreasonable." It's the third one talking now, as if they all have to have their turn. "We employ similar clauses for recovering drug addicts, those with prior records -- "
"I'm not a fucking drug addict," Jared says, and Mia puts a hand on his arm.
"I think our own position is clear," she says. "You asked for this meeting, but so far I haven't heard anything to change that."
The first one taps his pen on the table and ignores Mia. "We're just asking you to reconsider, Jared. We think you have a great future here, and I wouldn't want anything to stand in the way of that."
"That's enough," Mia says. She pushes back her chair. "I could easily consider that a threat to my client's prospects. What we're asking for is highly reasonable in this day and age, and the sport would do well to get with that. You have what we're asking for, and that hasn't changed. We'll wait to hear from you."
Mia's got short legs, but Jared has to step out to keep up with her as she leads the way down the garage where her rental car is parked. He can tell she's furious. She gets in the car and slams the door. "Assholes," she mutters.
"God, Mia, you were fabulous in there," Jared says, but she just shakes her head and starts the car.
"I never should have agreed to that meeting." She pulls out of the garage and almost runs down a trailer truck getting on the highway.
"It's okay," Jared says. "It seemed like a good idea. And now we know where they stand, right?"
Mia doesn't say anything, just flies by cars on the highway. "I love this business, Jared, seriously," she says, when they're almost to Jared's. "Even with the assholes. But sometimes I fucking hate this sport."
She pulls up to the curb outside Jared's apartment. "You know it's not about the money, right?" Jared says, hand on the door. "I know that's not fair, since it's your commission."
"I just hope you're having the best sex of your life right now, because that could be all you get from this deal," she says, and Jared tries not to think about the fact that he's not having any at the moment. "I'll let you know what I hear back," she says, and Jared nods and gets out of the car. He watches her pull back out onto the street.
She doesn't call the next night, or the next, and Jared's already figuring that he's screwed. He even asks Chad what it's like working at Applebee's, but Chad just shakes his head and says, "Fuck, man."
When Mia finally calls, she's too tired to hide her surprise. "I'm faxing it over to you. I guess you made an impression. There are a few clauses, but they're all standard, and I think it's good, Jared. Not as good as we could have done if you weren't a fucking idiot, but workable."
The contract's already coming through his fax machine, and Jared waits for the pages to finish, finds the clauses Mia's talking about and they all seem fine. "Okay," he says, and Mia blows out a long breath.
"I need a drink."
"Yeah, well, I owe you five," Jared says. "Seriously, Mia. Thanks."
"Thank me at the ESPYs," she says, and hangs up.
Jared leans back in his chair, runs a hand through his hair. He's tired without even realizing it, a bone-deep exhaustion pressing him into the chair, but he opens up a browser window on the computer and starts checking out flights to Dallas.
****
Jensen's parents live in this tree-shaded residential neighborhood in the Dallas suburbs that makes Jared think of paper boys and street hockey. He's standing outside the house, halfway across the front yard because it turns out the Ackles are having some sort of cookout in the back, and he's never felt so dumb as flying out here without even checking that it would be all right.
An older woman spots him, and Jared suspects it's Jensen's mom. She comes over, smiling and curious like maybe he's some cousin she just doesn't remember, and when Jared tells her his name and that he's a teammate of Jensen's, she smiles.
"Of course, Jensen's talked about you," she says, and she insists he come in the backyard with her so she can track down her son.
Jared stands uncomfortably as Jensen's mom heads over to the grill that Jensen's manning. Jensen twists around, shields his eyes against the sun with a spatula, and Jared wishes he could read the expression on his face when Jensen spots him.
"Hey," Jensen says, when he comes over. It's awkward, but he doesn't look unhappy to see him.
"Man, Jensen, I didn't know you'd be having stuff going on."
Jensen shakes his head. "It's nothing, just an excuse for my mom to be social. You want to go in?"
The inside of the house is dark and cool, and there are a couple of people in the kitchen as Jared follows Jensen up the stairs and down a hall to what must be his room. It's a cross between how Jensen must have left it when he headed to college and a workspace for his mom, unless Jensen had a sewing machine in high school.
Jensen sits down on the bed. "What's up?"
"I signed my contract."
"Get a good deal?" Jensen asks, and suddenly Jared's nervous. He wonders why he ever thought such a lame gesture would somehow solve everything or if he's just being the naïve kid Jensen probably thinks he is.
"Pretty good. The money's decent, and the bonuses are good. I had it written into the contract that they couldn't terminate it for me being in a public relationship with another guy."
Jensen goes still. "They signed that?" he asks, and Jared nods. "Wow," Jensen says, but Jared can't tell what he's thinking.
"So, you know," Jared says, but he's already hit the ball over to Jensen and there's nothing to add to what he's already said.
Jensen's not saying anything, so Jared goes over to the shelf of baseball trophies and pictures of tiny Jensen in his Little League uniform, and in some ways it's such a kid's room. He tries to imagine Jensen growing up here, playing on teams the same way Jared did, and there must have been a time when Jensen loved the game.
"I wasn't kidding when I said I was thinking about getting out," Jensen says, like he's reading Jared's mind. "I know there are some good guys in baseball, but I swear, Jared, I don't know who they are anymore. And I think that's great that you got them to sign that." Jensen pauses. "That took a lot of guts. But you know I'm a fucking cynic about this game, and you don't need that weighing you down."
"It's not," Jared says. "Weighing me down."
"Jared -- "
"Look, I know that putting that in my contract isn't going to suddenly make baseball gay-friendly or mean that I won't get traded around the league because no one wants a fag in their locker room. But people deal with shit all the time. I just want you to come back."
Jensen rubs his face. "Just -- give me a couple of days, okay?"
"Yeah," Jared says. "Okay."
He falls asleep on the flight home. When he picks up his car at the airport he drives to Jensen's instead of his apartment, because he knows where Jensen keeps his extra key. Maybe it's a privacy violation or something, but Jared doesn't care. He falls asleep on Jensen's couch, doesn't wake up until the morning, when the front door opens and Jensen's there with his bag slung over his shoulder.
"Hey," Jensen says, and that's all Jared needs.
Because yeah, sometimes you win.
END
Author: kestrelsan
Pairing: JA/JP; CMM, CK
Rating: Adult
Warnings: AU, Chad, baseball
Word Count: 14,821 words
Notes: Many thanks to prillalar for beta and title mojo.
Summary: "Don't tell me about the world. Not today. It's springtime and they're knocking baseball around fields where the grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball." - Pete Hamill
You can also view the whole thing at my website here.
Part 1
He gives it a week before calling Jensen. "Man, the post-season sucks."
"Tell me about it," Jensen says, with feeling.
Jensen knows a good place for seafood, so he gives Jared directions to meet him at his place; he lives across the harbor from the stadium, all red brick townhouses and restaurants and gourmet kitchen shops on hill-stretched streets overlooking the water. There's only street parking and the streets are packed, and Jared ends up driving around the block for ten minutes before someone finally pulls out.
Jensen's place is nice, and it's the only one on the block that doesn't have flower pots in the window. Jensen answers the door in jeans and a faded zip-necked pullover. He's got a couple days worth of stubble and is wearing this beat-up baseball cap, not even a team hat but something you'd get from the Gap or Abercrombie or something.
"Man, you look like shit," Jared says, and he gets one of Jensen's startled laughs.
"Yeah, my neighbor's dog's been yapping under my window every morning the last week. I've been sleeping for shit."
"Your neighbor has a dog?" Jared says, and Jensen catches the look in his eye.
"I'm not going to introduce you to the fucking dog, Jared." He grabs his keys and wallet from the table next to the front door and locks it behind them.
The place is just down the street, and it turns out it's this seafood market that takes up most of a block. It's packed, crowds congregating around vendors and in the aisles, and Jared shoulders past them as he follows Jensen down to the end. The smell of fish is everywhere, but it's fresh fish, and smells kind of like the beach.
Jensen picks up a couple of bottles of beer from a vendor then leads Jared to a seafood bar set up in the corner, where they get a pound of steamed shrimp and some sushi.
"Man, they put this shit on everything," Jensen bitches, scraping off the seasoning that comes on the shrimp. Jared kind of likes it. His hands are covered in it, but he just licks it off and wipes them on a huge stack of napkins.
"You been catching any games?"
"Saw Boston put the low-down on Anaheim last night, and man, that was a sweet catch at the end." Jensen drinks his beer. "But mostly it just pisses me off to be watching and not playing, so not so much."
"Been doing anything else?"
Jensen shrugs. "Just frying my brain in front of the TV and not thinking about baseball. You?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Jared says. "Chad invited the girls from downstairs up, and they don't even like him, because no one likes Chad, but it turned into this big thing with people and beer and crap everywhere, and someone puked in my bed, no kidding."
"Thanks for the play-by-play, Jay," Jensen says, but already he looks more relaxed and less like a vivarin addict.
Jensen's got Syriana and Mystic River and some foreign thing out on DVD, so they head back to his place after finishing off the shrimp. Jared votes for Mystic River because he's already seen Syriana and he's not that into subtitles, though when he reads the description of the foreign film he kind of regrets his choice, since it seems to be all about French chicks making out.
Halfway through the movie, Jensen falls asleep. He's curled up in the corner of the couch, knees pulled up and his head on the armrest, and his hat's pushed back to reveal hair flattened in all kinds of crazy angles. Jared carefully lifts it the rest of the way off and puts it on the coffee table.
He takes their empty beer bottles into the kitchen. Jensen's got a nice place, narrow with an exposed brick wall and hardwood floors, and he's ridiculously tidy. The kitchen looks like he doesn't even use it. Jared washes out the bottles and leaves them on the counter next to the sink.
When he gets back, Jensen wakes up a little. "What'd I miss?" he says, confused and sleepy.
"All the stuff where they join the Jim Rose circus," Jared says, and Jensen blinks. "Go back to sleep, man. I'm just gonna hang and finish the movie," he says, because he is actually interested in how it turns out.
Jensen falls back asleep in the middle of nodding. Jared watches the movie, wonders how it is that Sean Penn is fucking cool in everything, because you'd think the guy would have a couple of dud films. He turns the TV off when it's over and leaves Jensen a note on a pad of paper he finds in the kitchen, tells him that the IMAX theater is showing something on deep sea expeditions and he'll pick him up tomorrow at two.
Chad's out when he gets back to the apartment. There's a game still going on and Jared watches it for a while, but Jensen's right, it does sort of piss him off not to be out there, so he turns it off in the seventh inning when Boston goes up by three.
****
The deep sea thing is awesome, and it takes Jared a few minutes to adjust to the world above water when they get out. They end up walking along the harbor; it's a nice day, cool, and lots of other people are out walking around.
"Okay, biggest influence," Jensen says.
"Baseball?" Jared asks. Jensen gives him a yeah, dumbass look, so Jared thinks. "Player or coach?"
"Either," Jensen says.
"Okay, but you're totally going to get the wrong idea." Jensen raises an eyebrow. "My older brother played in high school so we'd go to his games, and one of the pitchers on his team -- I don't know, he always had this look like he was completely focused but not there at the same time, you know? Like pitching opened up this whole other world for him and he was addicted to it. In a good way, not a heroin way. And it made me think that pitching might be worth trying to be good at, like there was something more there than just throwing a ball for someone to hit."
Jensen's quiet a moment. "Aw, Jared, you had a boy crush."
Jared laughs and ducks his head. "Whatever, man. I said you'd get the wrong idea. So, my turn to mock your lame-ass story."
"I was just gonna say Lou Whitaker and Sandy Alomar. I didn't know you were going to get all deep on me."
"Asshole," Jared says, and Jensen gives him a push, but they're not close enough to the water, and besides, Jared's got four inches on him.
After a bit they head back to Jared's car. Chad's making him double-date with the girls downstairs, who still don't like Chad so Jared's not sure how he talked them into that.
"So, Chris has this thing tomorrow night," Jensen says. "His band's playing over in Canton."
"Chris has a band? Seriously?"
"Yeah, just something he fucks around with in the off-season." Jensen rubs the back of his head, looks out over the water like he's suddenly uncertain. "You in?"
"Is he any good?" Jared asks, and Jensen laughs.
"Good enough for your lame taste in music. I'm heading out around nine, so just come over."
"Sure, yeah," Jared says, and Jensen gives him a little wave as he walks back to his townhouse.
The double-date's okay; it turns out the girls follow baseball, which is how Chad got them to go out with them. It's not terrible, even when they're going on at the restaurant about watching him the end of the season, and some people hear them and look over and act like they recognize him, too, even though they probably don't have a clue.
Jared thinks this is exactly the kind of benefit he should be able to enjoy, but he never really gets past embarrassment.
The one he seems to be paired up with is Kristen, and she's sweet with caramel-colored hair. He walks her to her door, which is obviously her rommate's door as well, but Chad ditched them at the stairs because he thinks women actually like that kind of behavior.
"Sorry we sort of fangirled you all night," Kristen says, as Jenna slips past them into the apartment.
"Yeah, I'm really struggling with the hero worship," Jared teases, and she smiles. She's standing there awkwardly, so he kisses her on the cheek and says goodnight, and wonders why he didn't get her number at least.
"Man, I thought she'd put out for you, big baseball player and all," Chad says when he gets upstairs. "Did you even try?"
"Maybe I'm not an asshole," Jared says, and Chad rolls his eyes.
****
It turns out Chris's band is pretty good, though not really Jared's type of music. He makes conversation with Jensen for a bit, but he can see Jensen's really into the band so he just drinks his beer and checks out the place. They're in the one bar in Canton that hasn't gone trendy, though there are some college kids mixed in with the good old boys and the bar has Blue Moon on tap, so it's probably just a matter of time.
Chris comes over after the set and slings an arm around Jensen. He's sweaty, satiated, and Jared wonders if music and catching go together somehow, if Chris keeps them separate in his head or if it's all seasonal.
"Boys, you hangin' out?" Chris says. "'Cause we're heading across the street to the club."
Jensen looks like he's about to pass, so Jared kicks him under the table. "Jensen, come on."
The club's tiny and upstairs from this dive bar that's packed with twenty-somethings watching a boxing match. It's hot up there, music blaring and wall to wall people and a rickety wooden dance floor that hasn't dissuaded anyone from getting out there, but that's probably because there's nowhere else to stand.
It's absolutely Jared's type of music, and he'd get out there if he didn't look like such a moron when he danced.
"Dude, it's Fergie," Jensen says. He leans back against an empty patch of bar and drinks the beer Chris handed him before he disappeared. Jared drinks his like water, it's that hot up there.
"You are a serious snob," Jared says, and he has to shout above the music.
"And that's bad?" Jensen says, also shouting.
They can't hold a conversation, so Jared just drinks his beer and watches the people out on the dance floor. Video screens are flashing along the walls, not even music videos but weird shit, all abstract and probably deeply meaningful, except like Jensen said, it's Fergie.
A girl comes over to Jensen, who ducks his head to hear what she's saying. Jared can't hear them but he's kind of curious what Jensen does in those situations, because it's not like Jensen is ugly. And who knows, maybe he dates girls, too. But Jensen's just talking to her, nodding every once in a while at whatever she's saying. Then she pulls him out to the dance floor and Jared catches the look on Jensen's face, deer in the headlights before he follows her, and then Jared starts cracking up because man, he thought he looked bad on a dance floor.
"Fuck off," Jensen says when he gets back, sweat-soaked and disgruntled, but Jared can't stop laughing.
"Man, why would you even do that to yourself?"
"Seriously, can we get out of here now?" Jensen says, and Jared can tell he's pissed. Jared's just wishing he thought to pull his camera phone out, because that had been priceless.
Jensen's quiet on the ride back to his place. They're almost there when Jensen's eyes flick over. "What," he says, and Jared realizes he's been staring at him the last few minutes.
"Sorry," Jared says, and looks back at the window. He's buzzing, the beer hitting him harder than expected, but he really pounded that last one. "Can I hang at your place a couple hours? I probably shouldn't be driving."
"You can crash if you want," Jensen says. "There's a bed in the other bedroom."
"Yeah, sounds good. Thanks."
They get inside and Jensen throws his keys in the direction of the coffee table. "Just, you know, make yourself at home and all that. I'm gonna shower."
Jensen disappears upstairs and Jared searches for and finds the remote. He catches the recap of the game on ESPN, St. Louis closing out L.A., then wanders into the kitchen on the tail end of realizing he's ravenous.
He finds a half-full carton of chinese that smells all right, a jar of peanut butter, which throws him because he'd never known anyone to keep peanut butter in the fridge; cheese that's not wrapped in individual slices, but Jared grabs it anyway, and an open can of peach slices. There's bread on the counter and a bag of tomatoes, so Jared gets out a plate and starts piling food on.
Jensen comes into the kitchen smelling like soap. He's wearing frayed sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he eyes Jared's mini-feast.
"You don't mind, do you?" Jared asks, and Jensen shakes his head.
"No, man, course not. Just that -- Jesus, Jared. Eclectic food tastes much?"
Jared laughs and puts the plate in the middle of the small table pushed up against the kitchen wall. "I'll even share," he says, and Jensen takes the other chair.
Peanut butter from the fridge is hard to spread, and Jared mangles a bread slice before rolling it up and eating it with some cheese. Jensen looks a little grossed out, but he picks at the chinese food and eats some tomato slices.
"You play Fantasy Football?" Jared asks.
"What?"
Jared gives him the rundown of his team, what his trade options are, how half of them are injured and he's playing with, like, eight guys, and he lists the stat categories for each of them.
"What the hell, man."
"I know, I'm dead last in the league," Jared says, and he's just finished swallowing a cheese slice when Jensen shifts forward and puts his hand on the side of Jared's chair, leans in and kisses him. Jared's mouth is open so he gets a lot of Jensen's lips and the tip of Jensen's tongue flicking the inside of his mouth, and Jared grips the edge of the table when Jensen's lips move over his bottom lip and tug a little.
When Jensen pulls back his eyes are this fucking deep dark green and his lips are red when he wets them, and Jared's completely out of his depth. Talk about coming out of left field.
"Um," he says.
"Yeah, wow," Jensen says. "Sorry." He doesn't look sorry at all.
"So this," Jared attempts, "that was just a, a fluke or something? Or -- " and he breaks off, because he's reeling a little, and he's not sure he wants it to be a fluke. He can still feel Jensen's lips on his and fuck, it's Jensen, who's really fucking hot, but more than that Jared likes him, thinks he's one of the coolest guys he knows, dancing ability aside. But it all feels so wide open, like he's dangling over the ocean without a foothold.
"Hey, it's cool," Jensen says, and he sounds disappointed, maybe a little frustrated, but he just rubs the back of his neck and stares at a piece of wall over the table. "Look, I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
Jared nods and kicks himself for being a goddamned idiot. He cleans up after Jensen goes upstairs, then catches a few hours of sleep on the couch. He wakes up a little before dawn and drives back to Bowie in the dark with his eyes still dry from sleep.
****
Chad's a pretty good guy to hang out with for not thinking about things, because Chad spends most of his non-working hours watching porn or playing Tekken Tag Tournament, which for Chad are pretty much the same thing. Five hours of getting his ass kicked and a case of beer later, Jared breaks down and tells him everything, but Chad just says, "So wait, is fucking guys like a baseball thing?" before going back to the game.
"We're not fucking," Jared says, but his mind's already gone there. He thinks about Jensen's hand on his cock, Jensen sucking him off, what Jensen looks like after sex. He shifts a little on the couch. "Fuck."
"He go down on you?" Chad asks.
"Do you have any life at all?" Jared says, like he wasn't just imagining it.
Chad's not helping, so Jared loses the next game and goes back to his room, screws around on the computer, opens up the new Sports Illustrated but it's all about either baseball or football and he's losing at both right now.
He picks up the phone and calls Jensen.
"Dude, my living room's been invaded by a hornet the size of a cow."
Jared pauses to regroup. "Did you try shooing it out the door?"
"I'm not a moron, so yes. But this fucking bee is, because it has no idea where salvation lies. Fuck."
"He get you?"
"No, just circling in for the kill." There's a loud thwack and a beat of silence. "Okay, that's just gross," Jensen says, and Jared bites back a laugh. He plays with the pen on his desk, scrawls a few doodles in the margins of the football league standings he printed out the other day.
"I'm sorry for taking off this morning," he says. Jensen clears his throat before answering.
"I shouldn't have, you know."
"No, it's okay," Jared says. "I mean." He puts down the pen, pulls at the back of his hair, stares at the wall. Jensen's not making this easy. "Do you want to catch a movie tomorrow or something?"
There's a pause. "Are you asking me on a date?" Jensen says, and Jared suspects he's laughing at him.
"Fuck, man," Jared says, helpless, and now Jensen really is laughing.
"Yeah, sure," he says. "Just pick me up, and, you know, bring flowers or something."
"Man, you suck," Jared says. "I'll pick you up at eight," he adds, and Jensen's still laughing when he hangs up.
Jensen accepts the can of bee-killer spray Jared hands him when he picks him up, makes a crack about cheap gifts, but Jared figures he's getting off easy, all things considered. Still, it does feel ridiculously like a date, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands when they're sitting in the movie theater. He can't get comfortable, keeps moving around in the seat, and Jensen leans over.
"Dude, chill out," he says, and Jared glares at him.
"You think this is hilarious," he says.
"Yeah, little bit," Jensen says. He shifts in his seat and his knee brushes up against Jared's, and it's a small thing but Jared feels it down to his dick. Then Jensen's leaning over again. "You want to get out of here?" he asks.
"Fuck, yes," Jared says, and they make it out the side exit.
They're on the highway back to the city when Jensen says, "Just so you know, I absolutely put out on the first date."
"Man, you're never letting that go," Jared says, but he's already thinking about what that entails, and he's not nervous, exactly, just feels like he has no real idea what he's getting into. But when they get back to the house, Jensen just eyes him a little, and maybe Jared looks panicked or something because he heads for the kitchen.
"You want a beer?"
"Yeah," Jared says, a little relieved. Jensen brings back a couple of bottles and sits next to him on the couch. They drink their beers and Jensen's not saying anything, and Jared realizes Jensen's waiting because it's his move now.
So Jared puts down his beer, slides his arm down the back of the couch and leans over, doesn't know what kind of kiss it's going to be but it comes out slow, a first-date kiss with a little tongue and a lot of lips, easing into Jensen's mouth and taking his time to work the right angle to go in deeper. It's hot, or at least Jared thinks it is, and the pace is killing him, and Jensen's eyes are a little glassy when Jared pulls back.
"Um," Jensen says, and wets his lips.
"Yeah?" Jared says, feeling like a kid asking if his drawing's any good.
"Yeah," Jensen says, and slides his hand along Jared's thigh up to his hip. Jared's stomach jumps when Jensen runs his hand under his shirt and thumbs the curve of his ribs. They're in no position for the kind of kissing Jared wants to do, but then Jensen hooks his leg over Jared's until he's practically in Jared's lap, and it's hot like Jared didn't think even sex could be.
"Fuck," Jared breathes, and shifts a little. He can feel the press of Jensen's dick on his thigh and he finds Jensen's hips to pull him closer, hands slipping on Jensen's jeans but it's enough to rock him forward a little, and just Jesus.
"Yeah," Jensen agrees. His hands are working on Jared's fly and he's kissing him at the same time. He's got Jared's cock in his hand and Jared's head rolls back, eyes closing, because Christ, yes, it's really fucking good. Jensen's at his throat, scraping teeth down his skin as he rubs the head of Jared's cock with his thumb then down along the length, and it's so much better than Jared's fantasy of it that it doesn't take much more than Jensen pressing down hard before he's coming, hips bucking into Jensen's grip.
"Jesus Christ," Jared says. Jensen laughs a little into his neck, and licks the underside of his jaw.
"You coming upstairs?" he asks.
"Hell, yes," Jared says.
It's not until they're in Jensen's room that Jared starts to feel weird. Kissing and a hand job on the sofa is one thing, but Jensen's bed is, like, intimate, and Jared has no clue what he should be doing. Jensen seems cool with it; he's busy sucking the hollow of Jared's throat, and it's great, but Jared figures he needs to start pulling his weight.
So he ventures down Jensen's hip and brushes over his stomach, and Jensen's making encouraging noises so he closes his hand around Jensen's cock and strokes down, and he knows it's rough but Jensen just pushes into it. Jensen has no problem showing Jared exactly where he wants him to put his hand, Jared's fingers stroking over his balls, pressing down between them, and Jared's cool with the direction at first then decides to go off script, scrapes his thumbnail under the ridge of Jensen's cock.
"Fuck yes," Jensen swears, and bucks up under him. He comes in a stream of muttered obscenities, and Jared would laugh if he wasn't so distracted.
Jensen's got his arm slung over Jared's waist, and he's rolled up against him like he's settling in for the night. "Dude, you're a cuddler."
"Fuck off," Jensen mutters.
Jared finds that hilarious, and he's laughing even after Jensen jabs him in the ribs.
****
Jared takes to gay sex like he would a new pitch, because there's the mechanics of it, sure, but mostly it's about feel, getting familiar with how it's done and making the connection between his brain and the plate. He goes down on Jensen in the shower, and it's like neural connections start forming in his head encoding the taste of a guy's dick, how it stretches his mouth and throat until he's almost gagging, the smell and weight of it.
Jensen lets him fuck him a few nights after, and it's the most awkward Jared's ever been with sex. But then Jensen pushes down on him and his ass is squeezing Jared's cock until he can't breathe, and he pulls Jensen up by the waist and mouths along the ridge of his back, tastes sweat as he reaches for Jensen's cock and it's easier this way, more like jacking off, and Jensen seems to appreciate it too because he's spilling over Jared's hand with a cut-off groan.
The sex is great, but it's more than that. Jensen's moody and he has weird habits, like the peanut butter in the fridge thing, and the way he won't say Roy Campanella's name out loud, ever, because he thinks it invokes his spirit and you didn't do that in vain. And yeah, everyone in baseball had their quirks, but it wasn't a quirk with Jensen, just his weird way of living in the world.
And he's all about marathon makeout sessions in front of the TV. Jared's never felt so gay and fifteen but he fucking loves it, could kiss Jensen for hours, and when Jensen falls asleep in the middle of one he thinks it's kind of cute, though it's days before he lets Jensen forget it.
Jared goes out to play with Jensen's neighbor's dog over the short fence between the yards. Jensen's standing in the back doorway, mutters, "Christ," but when Jared glances over he's got this look in his eye like Jared surprises him, like he can't figure him out, and Jared thinks that's weird enough that he talks him into coming out to play with the dog, too.
They're screwing around in bed when Jensen slides a finger in his ass, and Jared twitches a little, but Jensen mouths his dick and spreads lube on his fingers, slides two in and Jared tries to relax, wants this to be something he's okay with but he's not at all sure. "It's okay," Jensen murmurs, and he thumbs the back of Jared's balls and brushes his prostate, jerks Jared off while his fingers stroke in and out of his ass.
Jensen rolls the condom over his dick and eases in slowly. "Fuck, Jared," he says, and he feels huge. Jensen braces himself on his elbows, and Jared's pretty sure this isn't going to work, because already it hurts like hell.
Jensen kisses him, makes the kiss slow and dirty until Jared's breathing hard and pushing into him. Jensen slides in, the burn of it easing off, and he's saying, "It's okay, you're good, you're fucking amazing, Jared," and he keeps up the litany until Jared hooks his legs behind Jensen's ass to bring him in hard, because it's so fucking good.
****
Mia calls while they're watching the third game of the Series, because Jared's never missed a Series yet.
"Look, they really want you, Jared. And they made an offer, but I think it's low, so I'm going to bump it up and go back to them. And D.C.'s interested, too, and I know you don't want to switch leagues, but we can use it. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Jared says, and they talk through what Mia's going back with. When he hangs up, Jensen glances at him.
"Agent?" he asks, and Jared tosses his phone on the coffee table.
"I feel like fucking market meat. Tell me you're not going through this."
Jensen shrugs and turns back to the TV. "I had a one-year contract." Jared looks at him until Jensen glances over, irritated. "What?"
"You're not back next year?" And Jared doesn't know why he just assumed he would be, except that, oh right, Jensen never said otherwise.
"Yeah maybe, if they renew the contract. There are other clubs. Or maybe I'll just get the hell out, work at Sears."
"It's not funny. I mean, were you going to tell me that you don't know where you're going to fucking be next year?"
"Jared," Jensen says. "What's your issue with this?"
Jared flounders, because he thinks it should be obvious, and the fact that it's not obvious throws him off. "Do you really think it wouldn't matter? Because that's kind of fucked up."
Jensen rubs the back of his neck. "I don't think that."
"Then what the hell?"
"Can we not talk about this?" Jensen says, and Jared looks at him and doesn't push it. They finish watching the game, but Jared has no idea who ends up winning.
The next night Jensen meets him at the door with his keys and wallet. "You play pool?" he says, and Jared nods, a little startled, but he follows Jensen down the street to a bar that looks like it hasn't been cleaned since 1982, two pool tables in the back and a haze of smoke over everything.
Jensen starts in on the bottles right away, and Jared nurses his because Jensen's pounding them back like it's fruit juice; he's in a mood, talks to Jared over the pool table when they're playing doubles with a couple of guys, but there's something off and Jared's never seen him so…assholish, like he's pissed at Jared or the world or god knows what, and it makes him a little mean. Jared goes to the bathroom and when he comes out, Jensen's in one of the guys' faces and they're trading shit about something to do with the fucking pool game, shouting, and Jared sees Jensen pull back to take a swing before he gets there and grabs his arm.
The guy backs off, not wanting to take on both of them, and Jensen shakes off Jared's arm. "Get off."
"Jensen, what the fuck," Jared says, and he's been bewildered the whole night but now he's just pissed.
"For Christ's sake, Jared," Jensen says, and shoulders his way out of the bar.
Jared follows, still pissed but a little worried, too, because this is beyond any fallout from last night. He catches up with him at the house, and Jensen doesn't even look at him, just sits on the couch and rubs his hands down his face.
"Okay, you've officially weirded me out," Jared says, but Jensen just stares ahead.
"Man, what are you still doing here, Jay."
Jared stands inside the door uncertainly, closes it and sits on the couch next to him. "Did something happen? Because this is kind of fucked up, and I don't know what the hell is going on."
"Nothing's happened," Jensen says, like Jared's an idiot for asking. "I don't know what you think's gonna come out of this, but come on, Jared, wise up."
Jared stares at him, amazed. "What comes out of us fucking? Because it's kind of working for me."
"You're also twenty-two years old and getting your first big break, and you don't fuck with that, Jay, I'm serious. Maybe you think it's gonna be okay with Major League baseball and everyone who watches it that we're fucking, but you're not stupid so I know you know it doesn't work that way."
And yeah, Jared's not, but this is still a dumb conversation. "I could blow my arm out next week and never play again."
"Yeah, well, no sense making it harder on yourself than it already is," Jensen says, and Jared knows he's thinking about Cahill in the locker room.
"I don't know what to tell you," Jared says, and he hates the stupid, utter inadequacy of that, but it's not like he can change the mind of baseball, or the media, or the freaking baseball commissioner. "But I'm not taking off, okay? Even though you were a complete prick back there," he adds, and Jensen cracks a smile.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Okay."
****
Jensen calls the next night and Jared can tell he's kind of sorry about things, so he comes over and Jensen's all over him when he gets there, pushes him up against the front door and works the fly of his jeans open, and it doesn't take much more than that to get Jared hard. Jensen sucks him down, throat tight around the head of his cock, and Jared curls his fingers through Jensen's short hair and comes hard and fast.
They make it upstairs later and Jared fucks him, slow and sweet until Jensen's clawing at him at the end, hips twisting down on his cock, and Jared knows he's going to have bruises on his arms. He draws it out as much as he can until Jensen says he's going to fucking kill him if he doesn't finish it, and Jared makes him pay for that a little before bringing him off.
He sprawls out like a rag doll on Jensen's bed, sweat still sticking to his forehead. Jensen's eyes are closed and he's relaxed like he only is when he's sleeping or right after sex, eyelids weighted and his mouth turned down a little. He opens his eyes and he's still relaxed, but he also looks a little like he's facing down a runner from third with the ball in his glove.
"I'm taking off for Dallas tomorrow."
Jared blinks at the ceiling, because they'd just spent two hours fucking and Jensen hadn't said it like he was inviting him along. "Okay, um. For how long?"
"I don't know. Couple of weeks." Jensen wedges a pillow under his head. "You need to start thinking about your contract," he says, and Jared blows out his breath, exasperated, because he doesn't see how they're back to this, and he's not sure he even cares about the fucking contract. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you need to get it done and it needs to be good, and you've got a small window right now to make sure that happens before they forget what you did for them at the end of the season or something gets out to fuck it up."
"What does that have to do with you going to Dallas?" he asks, and Jensen doesn't answer right away.
"I think we should give it a break for a while, let things settle."
"Christ," Jared says, because that's not at all what he wants, but a part of him tells him Jensen's not wrong, either, and that the rest of the world isn't going to see things their way. "Okay," he says, and Jensen relaxes a little. "What time's your flight?"
"Eleven," Jensen says.
"You need a ride to the airport?" he asks, and Jensen just looks at him.
"Jared," he says, but Jared doesn't want to hear it. He rolls over until his head's buried between Jensen's head and his shoulder, breathing through Jensen's skin and sweat and thinking sex is just like Jensen catching for him or hanging out on the road or pigging out on Jensen's food, like it's all part of the same package, except he knows that's not how it works.
****
Jensen doesn't call, and when Jared's cell phone does finally ring it's his mom. She's telling him about running into the mother of one of his high school teammates, and Marc's doing fine, just graduated college and is working at a grocery store or something, and Jared's wondering what she'd say if he told her about Jensen, except that Mom, I'm fucking a guy isn't something he'd ever say to his mother.
He even calls Sid, who seems glad to hear from him. Jared says yes when Sid invites him over for lunch, because Sid sounds bored and lonely and Jared doesn't have anything else to do. Sid has a small house right outside the city in a neighborhood that actually has old guys sitting on benches in front of storefronts watching people walk by.
His house smells like peeling wallpaper and age. He's got pictures everywhere, mostly pitchers he worked with and other ballplayers and coaches, some of the old ballpark before they tore it down. There's a sunroom off the back he makes Jared sit down in while he brings out lunch, and it turns out Sid is a pretty good cook.
"You been working your arm?" Sid asks, and Jared ducks his head, because he's been working out some but not really.
"Yeah, a little," he says.
"Better none than too much," Sid says, and Jared still can't get anything past him.
Jared's not sure why he's here except that Sid lives baseball and has a million stories to tell, but he's not one of those oldtimers who can't get past how great the game used to be, because Sid likes how it's changed, too, the better equipment, greater safety concerns, keener competition. He knows its faults but he still thinks the game's worth it, that change is more good than not.
Jared thanks Sid for the lunch and calls Mia on the drive home.
"Jared, great, I'm glad you called because we're making progress." She runs down the current offer, and Jared nods into the phone and makes the appropriate noises until she finally winds down.
"You think you could come down here?" he asks, and there's a brief pause.
"Of course, Jared, we should meet up," she says, and he knows the last thing she wants to do is fly down here to hold some rookie pitcher's hand for a contract that's not a tenth of her bigger clients, but she's a good agent and knows how to fake it.
They set up a day and time, and Jared names one of the restaurants in the harbor because he can't think of anywhere else. He closes his phone and tosses it on the seat, drives back to Bowie and sleeps for what feels like a week.
****
Mia's tiny with thick black hair, and the few times Jared's met her in person she's always been smart and funny and eats more than Jared, but now she's just staring at him in horror.
"Tell me you're kidding," she says, and he can see panic setting in. "Jared, if I told them you'd play for them just because you love the fucking game we'd be in better bargaining position than if I go back to them with this."
It takes another hour and two martinis before he wears her down, and he can see she's thinking about fobbing him off on another agent, so he talks her out of that, too. She's really not happy, though, and when Jared calls a cab to take her back to the airport she pauses before getting in.
"You have contingency plans, right? For when this blows up in your face and you're serving fries to drunk teenagers?"
"Come on, there's always Applebee's," he says, but she just gets in the cab like she's already wasted enough time humoring stupid athletes.
Back at the apartment he thinks about calling Jensen, even though Jensen hasn't called, but the ball's in both their courts with no place to hit it, not yet, so he talks Chad into watching something other than porn and hangs out for a few hours. He wonders when the stupidity of what he just did will hit him, because he just feels weirdly calm.
Mia calls a few nights after that, and she sounds so tired and frayed that Jared pictures her in her office with bloodshot eyes and a jumbo mug of coffee. "They came down on bonuses but we can still work with it, and they're fine as long as there's no media announcements or flaunting during the season."
Jared blinks. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know, Jared, maybe they just don't want you to stick your tongue down some guy's throat in the post-game interview, okay? Come on, this is a lot better than I thought we'd get."
"Just a sec," Jared says, and he puts the phone down on his desk. He stares at the wall for a few seconds, considers his options, but the flaunting thing is just bullshit. He gets back on the line. "Tell them no conditions."
"God damn it, Jared."
"Mia, seriously, get some sleep, you're gonna have a breakdown at the office," he says, and instead of more swearing he just gets silence.
"You owe me huge for this, Jared," she says, and rings off.
When she calls back a few nights later, she still sounds tired. "Look, they want to talk to you. And normally I'd tell them to blow themselves, but I think it's a good idea."
"Yeah, okay," Jared says, not entirely surprised, but not looking forward to it, either. "When?"
"Tomorrow at two at the front office. I'll pick you up, okay?"
Jared's never been in the front office before, and he's glad there's an assistant there to meet them. She leads them down long endless hallways and doors that all look the same, and there's no one he knows from the organization behind the one she opens, just three guys in suits. One of them stands up and shakes Jared's hand.
"Thanks for coming down, Jared," he says, and pulls out chairs for him and Mia. They all sit down and go through a round of introductions that Jared doesn't remember any of, and Jared feels like he'd rather be closing out a one-run game against the league's top hitter than talking with these guys.
"We really like what you did at the end of the season," the guy in the blue suit says. "We want to make this work."
"I'd like that, too," Jared says.
Another one speaks up. His suit is grey. "You understand that there's a certain kind of attention that the organization, and baseball, would rather avoid."
"What, like another steroids scandal?" Jared says, and Mia winces next to him.
"Like that," grey suit agrees. "Most of our support comes from the family sector, and we'd like to keep it that way."
"There are all kinds of families," Jared says, but then Mia steps in.
"I think it can be agreed that we're all here for the interests of baseball. Jared's not trying to endanger that, we just want reassurance that his contract can't be terminated for a personal preference."
The guy who first shook Jared's hand nods. "And we're willing to ensure that, with a few conditions."
"No," Jared says. "I'm not going to sign anything that says I'm okay sneaking around, like being in a relationship with someone violates some morality clause."
"Jared, what we're asking isn't unreasonable." It's the third one talking now, as if they all have to have their turn. "We employ similar clauses for recovering drug addicts, those with prior records -- "
"I'm not a fucking drug addict," Jared says, and Mia puts a hand on his arm.
"I think our own position is clear," she says. "You asked for this meeting, but so far I haven't heard anything to change that."
The first one taps his pen on the table and ignores Mia. "We're just asking you to reconsider, Jared. We think you have a great future here, and I wouldn't want anything to stand in the way of that."
"That's enough," Mia says. She pushes back her chair. "I could easily consider that a threat to my client's prospects. What we're asking for is highly reasonable in this day and age, and the sport would do well to get with that. You have what we're asking for, and that hasn't changed. We'll wait to hear from you."
Mia's got short legs, but Jared has to step out to keep up with her as she leads the way down the garage where her rental car is parked. He can tell she's furious. She gets in the car and slams the door. "Assholes," she mutters.
"God, Mia, you were fabulous in there," Jared says, but she just shakes her head and starts the car.
"I never should have agreed to that meeting." She pulls out of the garage and almost runs down a trailer truck getting on the highway.
"It's okay," Jared says. "It seemed like a good idea. And now we know where they stand, right?"
Mia doesn't say anything, just flies by cars on the highway. "I love this business, Jared, seriously," she says, when they're almost to Jared's. "Even with the assholes. But sometimes I fucking hate this sport."
She pulls up to the curb outside Jared's apartment. "You know it's not about the money, right?" Jared says, hand on the door. "I know that's not fair, since it's your commission."
"I just hope you're having the best sex of your life right now, because that could be all you get from this deal," she says, and Jared tries not to think about the fact that he's not having any at the moment. "I'll let you know what I hear back," she says, and Jared nods and gets out of the car. He watches her pull back out onto the street.
She doesn't call the next night, or the next, and Jared's already figuring that he's screwed. He even asks Chad what it's like working at Applebee's, but Chad just shakes his head and says, "Fuck, man."
When Mia finally calls, she's too tired to hide her surprise. "I'm faxing it over to you. I guess you made an impression. There are a few clauses, but they're all standard, and I think it's good, Jared. Not as good as we could have done if you weren't a fucking idiot, but workable."
The contract's already coming through his fax machine, and Jared waits for the pages to finish, finds the clauses Mia's talking about and they all seem fine. "Okay," he says, and Mia blows out a long breath.
"I need a drink."
"Yeah, well, I owe you five," Jared says. "Seriously, Mia. Thanks."
"Thank me at the ESPYs," she says, and hangs up.
Jared leans back in his chair, runs a hand through his hair. He's tired without even realizing it, a bone-deep exhaustion pressing him into the chair, but he opens up a browser window on the computer and starts checking out flights to Dallas.
****
Jensen's parents live in this tree-shaded residential neighborhood in the Dallas suburbs that makes Jared think of paper boys and street hockey. He's standing outside the house, halfway across the front yard because it turns out the Ackles are having some sort of cookout in the back, and he's never felt so dumb as flying out here without even checking that it would be all right.
An older woman spots him, and Jared suspects it's Jensen's mom. She comes over, smiling and curious like maybe he's some cousin she just doesn't remember, and when Jared tells her his name and that he's a teammate of Jensen's, she smiles.
"Of course, Jensen's talked about you," she says, and she insists he come in the backyard with her so she can track down her son.
Jared stands uncomfortably as Jensen's mom heads over to the grill that Jensen's manning. Jensen twists around, shields his eyes against the sun with a spatula, and Jared wishes he could read the expression on his face when Jensen spots him.
"Hey," Jensen says, when he comes over. It's awkward, but he doesn't look unhappy to see him.
"Man, Jensen, I didn't know you'd be having stuff going on."
Jensen shakes his head. "It's nothing, just an excuse for my mom to be social. You want to go in?"
The inside of the house is dark and cool, and there are a couple of people in the kitchen as Jared follows Jensen up the stairs and down a hall to what must be his room. It's a cross between how Jensen must have left it when he headed to college and a workspace for his mom, unless Jensen had a sewing machine in high school.
Jensen sits down on the bed. "What's up?"
"I signed my contract."
"Get a good deal?" Jensen asks, and suddenly Jared's nervous. He wonders why he ever thought such a lame gesture would somehow solve everything or if he's just being the naïve kid Jensen probably thinks he is.
"Pretty good. The money's decent, and the bonuses are good. I had it written into the contract that they couldn't terminate it for me being in a public relationship with another guy."
Jensen goes still. "They signed that?" he asks, and Jared nods. "Wow," Jensen says, but Jared can't tell what he's thinking.
"So, you know," Jared says, but he's already hit the ball over to Jensen and there's nothing to add to what he's already said.
Jensen's not saying anything, so Jared goes over to the shelf of baseball trophies and pictures of tiny Jensen in his Little League uniform, and in some ways it's such a kid's room. He tries to imagine Jensen growing up here, playing on teams the same way Jared did, and there must have been a time when Jensen loved the game.
"I wasn't kidding when I said I was thinking about getting out," Jensen says, like he's reading Jared's mind. "I know there are some good guys in baseball, but I swear, Jared, I don't know who they are anymore. And I think that's great that you got them to sign that." Jensen pauses. "That took a lot of guts. But you know I'm a fucking cynic about this game, and you don't need that weighing you down."
"It's not," Jared says. "Weighing me down."
"Jared -- "
"Look, I know that putting that in my contract isn't going to suddenly make baseball gay-friendly or mean that I won't get traded around the league because no one wants a fag in their locker room. But people deal with shit all the time. I just want you to come back."
Jensen rubs his face. "Just -- give me a couple of days, okay?"
"Yeah," Jared says. "Okay."
He falls asleep on the flight home. When he picks up his car at the airport he drives to Jensen's instead of his apartment, because he knows where Jensen keeps his extra key. Maybe it's a privacy violation or something, but Jared doesn't care. He falls asleep on Jensen's couch, doesn't wake up until the morning, when the front door opens and Jensen's there with his bag slung over his shoulder.
"Hey," Jensen says, and that's all Jared needs.
Because yeah, sometimes you win.
END