Part 10 - Screw You, We're From Texas
*Maybe it’s time we got back to the basics of love.*
With the season over and suddenly copious amounts of free time on his hands, Jensen does what any thirty-two year old with a guitar living in Austin would do - he joins a band.
It’s actually Vic’s band, of all things, which just sort of adds to the weird quotient, but Jensen’s doing a lot of things the last couple of years that he never would have thought he’d do, so he figures, what’s one more? Things with Vic have been better, too. They actually had a drunken heart to heart of sorts, and Vic apologized in as much as Vic ever probably would or could; it’s more than enough for Jensen. The invite to join the band says more than Vic’s drunk, stumbling sorries ever could, anyway.
They’re actually not bad, just a drum kit, an electric bass, and two acoustic guitars. Jensen hasn’t sung in front of anyone who's not in his immediate circle of friends since college, hasn’t been on a stage in that long, either, but it’s funny how things come back. He’d forgotten, honestly, that he ever wanted to do this, wanted to perform for people. That all seems ridiculously long ago, almost too far away to even fathom now, but it’s still fun to think about playing rock star on the weekends, there’s no denying.
Jared knows all about Jensen’s brief and unsuccessful run at stardom back in his teenage years, but Jensen knows he has a hard time wrapping his head around the idea. He’s none-the-less fully enthusiastic, in typical Jared fashion, about Jensen’s new hobby. For the first public gig that Jensen plays with the band, Jared brings half of Dell with him. They fill up most of the place, and make a fuck load of noise. Jensen is equal parts embarrassed and thankful.
It goes okay, a little rough, but that’s to be expected for their first time out. They play mostly Randy Rogers and Ragweed covers, some Reckless Kelly and some Willie just for good measure, and when they close with They Call it the Hill Country the crowd eats it up. Jensen still can’t stop smiling when he gets off stage, can’t even be bothered to feel self-conscious when Jared kisses him full on the mouth in front of God and his co-workers and everyone.
“Did not need to see that,” Vic screws up his face, but there’s no malice behind it.
“Bite me, Victor.” Jensen still can’t stop smiling.
“You’d probably like it,” Vic shoots back.
Jared just laughs.
“Nah, he’s not big on the biting, are you baby?”
And now Jensen’s feeling self-conscious, blush creeping up while Vic and Jared both laugh at him.
He’s saved, ironically enough, by the arrival of a guy who he quickly learns is Mark.
“So this is the infamous Jensen. I started to think maybe you were a figment of Jared’s imagination.”
Jensen shakes his hand, can’t help but notice the resemblance in their features, in the tone of their voices. He’s not sure if that should make him feel more or less threatened. If he was going to feel threatened, which of course, he’s not.
On the way home, Jared’s driving.
“So Mark seems nice.”
Jared just smirks.
“Yeah, he is nice.”
He waits a beat, then continues.
“Remind you of anyone?”
“I guess so,” Jensen nods, “in certain ways.”
“The freckles, the voice.” Jared shrugs. “That’s all it ever really was, ya know. A bad imitation.”
= = = = =
“This is the stupidest game ever invented.” Jared is standing on the green, glaring at Jensen. “And I hate you for ever making me play it.”
Jensen just grins.
“I know you do.”
“You should have said how stupid it was. You acted like it was all fun and easy.”
“Jay, Hancock is the easiest course in the city. Possibly in the world. Toddlers play here.”
“Only because toddlers aren’t smart enough to understand how stupid this game is.”
He’s lining up with his tongue out in concentration, putter level in his hands. His swing looks good, but the ball rolls over the edge of the cup, just rims out. Again. He watches it silently, as if maybe his quiet outrage will be enough to will the ball back in time and into the hole.
“Better luck next time, Champ.” Jensen’s still grinning as he slaps Jared firmly on the ass.
All he gets in return is continued glaring.
“You’re pushing it, Ackles.”
Jensen keeps grinning as he calmly sinks his putt.
“This is the only part of golf that has any redeeming value at all,” Jared says later, when they’re sitting on the tailgate of Jensen’s truck, sipping beer from a cooler in the tiny parking lot at Hancock. Jared looks down at his feet, at his black and white oxford-style golf shoes swinging in the breeze. “Even the clothes are stupid.”
“It’s my own fault for trying to introduce you to a gentleman’s game.” Jensen sighs sadly. “I should have known better.”
Jared snorts.
“Gentleman’s game, my ass. All you do is make jokes about clubs and balls and holes.”
Jensen slings his arm around Jared’s neck and kisses the corner of his mouth.
“Little known fact: that’s not actually a part of the game. That’s special for you, baby.”
Jensen can tell he’s trying not to, but eventually Jared grins.
“You’re too good to me, man.”
“I know, right?”
= = = = =
It’s the first weekend of April and Jared and Jensen are hard at work on the Big Ass Deck when Jensen gets a call from Amy. He hasn’t actually spoken to her in months, hasn’t seen her face to face in over a year; to say he’s shocked would be an understatement.
He knows from his mother, who knows from her mother, that she finished her residency and went back to Midland to join a private practice. She says she’s back in town this weekend moving the last of her stuff out of storage; she’s not sure when she’ll be back in Austin, and she’d like to have lunch or something, say goodbye.
“You should go,” Jared’s mouthing at him, nodding and waving his hands even though they’re in the middle of this huge project. Jensen’s not sure what the point is, really, other than to maybe end things with her on a nicer note than he ever really dared to hope for.
So he runs inside, grabs a quick shower, drives up to meet her at the Rudy’s BBQ joint by their old house, the one they used to go to all the time. It’s weird being back there, weird seeing her, weird being back there with her - but it’s good too. She smiles an easy smile, one Jensen hasn’t seen from her since sometime around their honeymoon, and he feels something tight and restrictive he didn’t even know was there loosening up in his chest.
“So,” she says when they sit down with their plates of brisket and beans and potato salad, “Lisa told me. About Jared, I mean.”
Jensen tries not to spit-take his mouthful of sweet tea.
“I want you to know we weren’t gossiping about you,” she hurries on. “It wasn’t anything like that. I was just so eaten up at first with who this other woman could be.”
She looks at him with a half-smile, almost embarrassed.
“I called Lisa, right after you left. I just had to know if she knew who you were seeing; I don’t know why, Jensen. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference, wouldn’t change anything between us, I knew that. It just seemed so important at the time.”
She shrugs.
“Lisa said there weren’t any girls around that she knew of, none that she’d seen. I thought you were just hiding her, trying to keep me from finding out.” She rolls her eyes, and smiles again. “It seems so silly now, that I was so obsessed with it.”
Jensen finally clears his throat.
“So when did you, uh. You know. Hear?”
“Last summer. I guess when you first told your friends? Lisa called me. She said she wasn’t sure if she should tell me, but if it was her she’d want to know.”
Jensen tries to look up from his plate, meet her eyes, but he can’t quite make himself do it.
“God, Amy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never thought you’d hear it from someone else; I never, ever wanted that to happen, I hope you know that.”
He finally looks up when her hand curls over his forearm. She’s smiling; it’s sad, but it’s not angry, and he figures that’s the best he can hope for given the circumstances.
“I’m sure you never meant for me to find out at all, right?” She raises an eyebrow, quirks an ironic smile at him. “But I’m glad I did, honestly. I mean at first I was furious, and hurt - I won’t try to say I wasn’t. But something Lisa said actually stuck with me, and eventually it got through. She said at least you know there was nothing you could have done. And I realized, after I got over feeling sorry for myself, that she was right.”
Jensen brings Jared a big plate of barbeque when he comes home, finds him stretched out in the grass in the back yard, sweaty and filthy and shirtless, looking up adoringly at the framework of the stairs that he built all by himself today.
“So how was it?”
“Dude. Sort of surreal.”
“Yeah?” Jared sits up at the picnic table and digs into his food.
“Yeah. She knows about us, for starters.”
“Oh, shit!” Jared doesn’t slow down the pace of his eating, but his eyes go wide. “How awkward was that?”
“You know what?” Jensen shrugs, digs out beer for both of them from the cooler Jared already has out back for easy access. He sits down on the picnic table next to Jared’s plate, feet up on the bench next to Jared’s ass. “It was surprisingly not. She seemed…okay with it.”
Jared looks skeptical.
“But what about the sinning? I mean she understands about the sodomy and all?”
Jensen gives him a warning look, and Jared holds up his hands.
“I’m just saying.”
“She didn’t mention the sodomy.”
“No?”
“No. She said everybody deserves love, and that everybody has to find their own path with the Lord, and that I look like I’m at peace and she sincerely hopes I am.”
Jared actually puts his fork down for that one.
“Wow.”
“I know. She also said to give you her best, and she hopes you can forgive her for always being so envious of you, even though it turns out she had reason to be.”
“Dude. Now you’re just making shit up.”
Jensen laughs.
“I’m not, swear to God, man. Like I said, it was kinda surreal.”
Jared shoves his plate away, tugs Jensen over so he’s sitting in its place, with Jared between his knees. He tips his face forward to breathe against Jensen’s stomach; Jen curls his arms around Jared’s head, rests his chin on Jared’s sweaty hair.
“So you feel better?”
“I didn’t really realize I felt bad, but yeah. In a weird way, yeah.”
“Who knew, man?” Jared grins up at him. “Deep thoughts with Amy…uh, what was her name again?”
“Hulsey.”
“Right. Just assuming she dropped the Ackles like a fuckin’ hot potato.”
Jensen snorts.
“Think that’s a pretty safe assumption.”
= = = = =
“I’m so glad to hear it went well,” Elise smiles. “I’ve wondered so many times how Amy’s doing. I always hoped she’d want to continue individually like you did, but she was never interested.”
Jensen shrugs.
“We can’t all be as fucked up as me, E. You really hit the jackpot when I walked in.”
It’s the kind of comment that Elise would have taken exception to, once upon a time. Now she just laughs indulgently; she knows Jensen’s kidding, at least mostly.
“And how about things with your family?”
Jensen’s grin fades a little at that one.
“Status quo, mostly. They don’t get it. I don’t think they ever will. I’m welcome anytime. Jared’s not. They want me to pretend he doesn’t exist so I don’t make them uncomfortable. I think it’s a little difficult for them to really know much about my life if I’m supposed to avoid mentioning such a major part of it.“
He rolls his eyes, shrugs.
“We’re at a stand-off, I guess. For now, at least.”
“And how are you feeling about it?”
“I don’t know. I wish it was different, of course, but pretty much I feel like it’s been what I expected. My sister has been pretty cool, I guess that was sort of a surprise. I mean she’s a lot younger, we were never that close, so. I didn’t have any expectations when it came to her, really. I guess you’d call that a silver lining?”
“That seems like a good way to frame it. Actually, you’re getting pretty adept at doing that on your own, without any help from me.” She looks at him shrewdly.
“So I guess my next question is: what are you still doing here?”
Jensen blushes a little, looks down at his hands.
“I was kind of thinking that,” he shoots her a sheepish grin. “I felt a little weird saying it, I guess.”
Elise just shakes her head.
“I like to think of therapy as a cast, not a crutch. It should help give you structure and support while what’s broken heals, not turn into something you have to lean on just to navigate your life.”
“So you think I’m healed, huh?” Jensen picks at his fingernail, throat feeling suddenly thick and tight. It seems crazy that he should be so emotional about the prospect of leaving Elise, especially considering that he had to be dragged to her door against his will in the beginning. But when he thinks about everything that’s happened to him since he met her, he wonders if it would have happened as easily, as relatively painlessly; he wonders if it would have happened at all, if he’d never come here.
“I think healed is a fantasy. Human beings are in a perpetual state of injury, we’re always hurting, and always healing. But I think you’ve got the tools to deal with the minor bumps and bruises now. I think you know what you want and where you’re going. You understand yourself in ways you didn’t when you got here.”
She smiles at him, the smile of a proud mentor this time.
“And just remember, the most important thing to take with you when you leave: every time we’re broken and we heal, we get stronger.”
*And with the windows wide open it feels hot to us anyway,
two bound together on a day just like any day.*
Every seven years, a mattress doubles in weight due to the build-up of dead skin cells, dirt, dust mites and sweat - Jared learned it from a television commercial. Jensen pointed out that since the purpose of said commercial was to get you to buy a new mattress, he’s pretty sure that isn’t true, but Jared isn’t convinced. Now that he’s heard it, he can’t un-hear it, and when he lays down at night all he can think is that he’s sleeping on a pile of his own skin. To say nothing of the skin of anyone else who’s ever slept in his bed, and really, it’s the idea of years’ worth of Jensen and Gabby’s skin cells mingling inside his mattress that he just can’t take.
“What the hell are you doing way over there?” Jensen grumbles at 2 a.m., reaching across the space Jared has put between them with his tossing and turning. Jensen’s fingers fan across his chest, resting there firm and warm. “Still can’t sleep?”
“We have to get a new bed,” Jared finally whispers, defeated, and Jensen doesn’t even bother to try reasoning with him, just laughs in the dark.
“I know we do.”
It’s not until they’re in the mattress store, one of those big box places out on the highway; not until Jared’s lying on a plush California King that feels like a cloud, urging Jensen to give it a try too, that he realizes how this is going to look, if Jensen lays down next to him. They might as well wear rainbow t-shirts and carry signs that say this is my boyfriend and we’re buying this bed to share, the implied post-script being, we wore out our old one with all the gay sex we’re constantly having.
One look at Jensen’s paler-than-usual, slightly queasy expression tells Jared he’s already had the same thought. Jared pops up off the bed.
“Okay, now try.”
Jensen looks slightly less uncomfortable, but still doesn’t lie down. Instead he looks at the ground and coughs meaningfully, and suddenly there’s a gray haired salesman in a navy blazer standing in front of them, look on his face wary at best. And it’s not that they’ve never run into awkward situations before; they’ve been together a year and a half now - more than enough time to have gotten their fair share of looks from waiters and hotel clerks and shop keepers, looks ranging from vague curiosity to obvious distaste. In general, it bothers Jensen way more than it bothers Jared, but Jared would be lying if he said he didn’t care at all, that he doesn’t ever worry about what other people think of him. For the most part, though, he could give two shits about what strangers might make of him and Jensen, and their relationship to each other, and that goes for the opinions of their newly acquired mattress salesman, too.
Jensen, on the other hand, looks like he’s wishing the carpet would swallow him up.
“Can I help you…gentlemen?” blazer guy asks, and he looks like he wants to be there about as much as Jensen does. Jared can only stand the awkward silence for a few seconds, weighs his stubborn instinct to stay on principle against Jensen’s obvious discomfort, and finally shakes his head.
“No thanks, we’re just, uh. Leaving.” And he grabs Jensen’s hand and hauls him to the front door.
Before they even make it outside Jensen is apologizing, looking miserable.
“Sorry man, I didn’t. I shouldn’t have gotten all weird, I just. I didn’t really think about how it would -“
He stops there, stuck, because saying how it would look is tricky business; it would look exactly like what it is, and they both know Jensen doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what it is. At least, he really, really doesn’t want to think that.
Jared just holds up a hand, waves him off.
“I know, me either, just. Don’t sweat it, okay. We’ll figure it out.”
The ride home is quiet, weird mixture of disappointment and tension hanging between them, and Jared fucking hates that they have to deal with shit like this. Because yeah, he could just go buy the damn bed himself, but Jensen sleeps there too and it’s stupid, so fucking lame, not to bring him along to help pick out the mattress. And yeah, Jared also knows he should probably be able to say fuck it, probably shouldn’t give a shit how fucking gay they look to some salesman they’ll never see again - or to anyone, for that matter - but they’re not all the way there yet, and he hates being fucking reminded of that in such a blatant and public way.
He takes the dogs for a run when they get home. He’s not running away, exactly, he just wants to work out that nagging feeling, part irritation part embarrassment, that seems to have attached itself to him on his way out of the mattress store. The sweat and the burn in his muscles helps just like it always does, and by the time he’s turning the corner for the house he’s decided that this is a good thing, actually. A year ago Jensen wouldn’t even have considered going to a mattress store with him, for fear of how it might be perceived. Today he actually made it into the store before he even stopped to think about how it might look. It’s progress, even if it’s slow and painful, and everyone knows Rome wasn’t built in a day.
The next day Jared stops by a different store, a local place nestled in with all the other furniture stores up on Burnet Road. He goes alone, after work, and finds a middle-aged blonde with a friendly smile and a nametag that says Tammy, asks for her help. When he finds a bed he likes, he mentions that he’ll need to bring his boyfriend by for final approval before he decides. She doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even blink, just nods and says she’ll be around until closing every night this week, and she looks forward to helping them. Two days later, he and Jensen are lying shoulder to shoulder on a two thousand dollar pillow-top in the middle of the showroom floor, while Tammy explains the features and the warranty. She assures them it’s no problem at all to ring up half the bill on each of their credit cards, and takes their home number for the delivery service to call and give them their delivery window for Saturday.
After dinner that night they walk down to Amy’s Ice Cream. Jared, as usual, takes a chance on an unknown and tries the Black Velvet while Jensen, as usual, sticks with the Standards and goes for Coffee. They’re almost back to the house, walking in companionable quiet, watching fireflies buzzing around their neighbors’ lawns as dusk settles in. Jared’s barely staying ahead of his quickly melting cone, trying to keep the ice cream from dripping out the tiny hole in the bottom, when Jensen breaks the silence.
“You know, we should probably get a joint account or something.”
His voice is way too purposefully casual to really be casual; Jared’s ears immediately perk up, listening for the words Jensen’s not saying as well as the ones he is.
“I mean, for house stuff, bills…or like today with the bed.” Jensen’s looking conspicuously at his ice cream cone, conspicuously not at Jared, as he shrugs and continues. “I was just thinking, it might make things easier.”
And Jared thinks it’s just as well that Jensen’s not looking, because his goofy grin doesn’t need any witnesses, thanks. He just concentrates on resisting the sudden urge to back Jensen up against the nearest hard surface and kiss him - at least until they make it through the door of the house. Instead he hides his smile behind his ice cream and shrugs too.
“Yeah, probably.” He nods, just as casually. “Sounds like a plan.”
= = = = =
“What the hell is that?”
“What the hell is what?” Jensen doesn’t look up from the paper, sections of the Sunday Statesman spread out across the table, coffee in his hand and dogs sprawled at his feet.
“That noise.”
“It’s called the radio, Jay.” Jensen’s still not looking up. “You might have heard of it.”
“That doesn’t sound like the radio to me.”Jared grabs a mug and pours his coffee. “I’ve heard the radio before, and that sounds…not like it at all.”
He sits down at the table and waits, looking at Jensen expectantly. Finally Jen sighs, puts his coffee down and lowers the paper so Jared can see his eyes.
“It’s KVET. Also known as pre-set number two in your truck? I'm pretty sure you've heard of it.”
Jared shakes his head, disbelieving scowl firmly in place.
“That’s not -“ he starts, but Jensen rustles the sports pages impatiently.
“Look. They play gospel on Sunday mornings.” His voice is a little defensive, his face a little flushed. “I like it, okay?”
“Oh.” Jared just swallows his coffee and nods, wobbly feeling suddenly invading his chest. “Yeah, okay.”
He’s never thought about it before, not really. He knows, of course he does, that Jensen’s faith has always been important to him - knows that faith has had to weather a pretty fucking big crisis in the last few years. He knows Jensen was always a church-goer, before, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Jared just assumed Jensen went because he had to, because his parents or his girlfriend or his wife expected him to. Jared’s never stopped to think about whether Jensen actually wanted to, actually liked that Sunday morning ritual he’s participated in his entire life. Suddenly it’s clear, sitting right between them in the middle of the breakfast table.
Jensen misses it. And the lingering blush on Jensen’s cheeks as he determinedly turns back to his paper makes a knot form in Jared’s throat that feels something like shame.
Jared’s religious upbringing was spotty, at best. His grandparents, those no-nonsense children of devout Eastern European immigrants, went to mass every Sunday. His parents, less often. Jeff actually got confirmed, but somewhere not long after that, church kind of seemed to fall by the wayside in favor of ball games and piano lessons and homework. By the time Jared and Megan got to confirmation age, his parents didn’t even bother. On the whole, Jared went with Chris and his family to Our Lady of Guadalupe more often than he went with his own family to St. Mary’s. By the time he was in high school it was pretty much Christmas Eve, Easter, and Mother’s Day (at his grandmother’s insistence), and that was about it.
Of all the ways that Jared may have struggled in coming to terms with his sexuality, religious beliefs never played a part. But for Jensen it played the biggest part, and Jared knows this. He’s ashamed of himself, suddenly, for forgetting that just because it’s not important to him personally, that just because Jensen doesn’t talk about it, it doesn’t mean Jen’s just forgotten this thing that’s always been such a huge part of his life. Jared’s never considered that Jensen might think church - active participation in his faith - isn’t something he gets to do anymore, but the look on his face has Jared considering it now. It makes his heart twist with sympathy.
He drains his coffee, runs a hand over Jensen’s head on his way to put his mug in the sink, and leaves Jensen alone with his paper and his music.
Jared’s got some research to do.
= = = = =
They’re just leaving lunch, Jared’s whole family having gathered for his dad’s birthday. They’ve got the windows open to let in the warm Saturday afternoon air, cruising down F.M. 1826 away from The Salt Lick and back toward town. Jensen’s got his left elbow hanging out the window, fingers curled loose around the side of the steering wheel, right hand resting up high on Jared’s thigh. He looks good, so fucking good and so happy, sated with beer and barbeque and spring sunshine, wind whipping his hair, and Jared figures it’s time he grows a pair and makes Jensen talk about this.
“Did you know,” he asks conversationally, “that there are over thirty gay-affirming churches in the city of Austin?”
Jensen’s nose crinkles just a little, and he cuts his eyes sideways for the briefest second before they’re back on the road.
“Is this a pop quiz, or what?”
“Not a quiz, no. Just, you know. An interesting fact.”
“Uh huh,” is all Jensen says, then silence.
“You’re probably wondering why I know that,” Jared offers after awhile, eyes fixed on Jensen’s face. Jensen just snorts.
“Not really.” His eyes cut over to the passenger seat again, expression wry. “You don’t give me nearly enough credit for how well I know you either, ya know.”
Jared grins a little at that. Jensen doesn’t say anything more, so Jared lets it sit for awhile before he tries again.
“I just thought. Well. I guess you know what I thought.”
“Think I got it, yeah.”
“It’s just. You shouldn’t have to stop going to church, Jen. I mean, if you want to. There are places we could go where you wouldn’t have to feel weird.”
Jensen looks over at that, eyes lingering for longer than a nanosecond this time. He clears his throat as he looks back at the road.
“We?”
“Oh.” Jared shrugs. “Well I mean, I don’t have to go. I thought you might not want to go by yourself or whatever, but ya know. I don’t care, I won’t be offended or anything.”
“Jay.” Jensen looks at him witheringly. “I meant, you’d actually go with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”
Jared grins, picks Jensen’s hand up off his leg and laces their fingers together.
“I’m not like, Anti-God or something. I’m pretty sure I can walk through the doors without the place getting struck by lightning.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow like he’s not so sure, but his fingers press and squeeze against Jared’s hand, almost imperceptible. Jared lets it sit again, waits until they’re almost home before he says, “You know the University Baptist Church, the one on The Drag? It’s got a really interesting history.”
Jared knows Jensen went to the Church of Christ with Amy, but he’s pretty sure Jensen’s parents’ church, the one Jensen grew up in, is Baptist. He’s playing a hunch here.
“Oh, yeah?” is all Jensen says, but he actually sounds interested, and Jared thinks maybe his hunch was right.
“Yeah. They’ve gotten kicked out of the Baptist Churches Club a bunch of times over the years for being all progressive and shit.”
“The Baptist Churches Club?” Jensen’s eyebrows look like they’re trying to climb into his hairline, but he’s grinning.
“Well, whatever it’s called.” Jared can’t help his smug look. “They didn’t like all the crazy new-fangled ideas the church had about integration, or women, or gays, so they kept on kicking them out of the Club. But the church, ya know, they stuck to their guns every time. And funny thing, the Club always comes around, eventually.”
Jensen just nods, and Jared lets it sit one more time. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that there’s no rushing Jensen. He’ll get there when he’s ready, and not one second before.
They get home and change clothes, Jared edges and trims while Jensen mows. They bag everything up and put it on the curb for pick-up, fire up the grill. They invite Chris and Kelly over for burgers, sit around with their feet in the freezing cold pool, watching the dogs swim and drinking beer, listening to Cory Morrow and Micky and the Motorcars through the speakers Jared mounted on the back of the house and connected to his iPod dock inside.
They stumble up to bed after midnight, just a little drunk. Jensen tosses Jared onto the bed, strips him down piece by piece, fucks him long and deep and just right, just how Jared likes it. They’re still fooling around in the shower, laughing and touching without any heat or intent, before they finally flop down in their new bed, still damp and drunk and exhausted and content.
“I think we should go, tomorrow,” Jared whispers in the dark, when Jensen’s molded up along his back, arm over his middle, pulling him in close. “Starts at eleven.”
Jensen’s quiet, then Jared feels hot lips along the back of his neck, wet soft kisses making him shiver, and he knows what that means. Jensen doesn’t even need to say it; Jared smiles into his pillow.
*This old porch is just a long time of waiting and forgetting,
remembering the coming back and not cryin’ about the leaving.*
For the 3rd time since Jensen met Jared, the Spurs and the Mavs are meeting in the play-offs. Both previous times the Mavs have won the series, a fact that Jensen never lets Jared forget. Jared counters by pointing out that during the same period the Spurs have won two championships to the Mavs’ zero, and then usually goes on to remind Jensen that in fact that Mavs have never won a championship, before expounding on the Spurs’ grand winning tradition over their long and storied history.
This little exchange leaves them both pissy and annoyed every single time, but they don’t let that stop them from repeating it pretty much ad nauseum.
This year, since Jensen is off work anyway, and since the Big Ass Deck is this close to being finished, sitting mostly constructed but not yet erected in the back yard, Jared decided that he should just burn the vacation time and take off the whole two weeks of the Mavs-Spurs series. Their plan is to go to every game, regardless of whether it’s in San Antonio or Dallas, right up until the bitter end. They’re also going to finish the damn deck before Jared has to go back to work if it’s the last fucking thing they do.
The Mavs have the second seed in the West and home court through the first two rounds, and Jensen is pretty fuckin’ psyched for the next two weeks.
= = = = =
The first Saturday they get a late start because of all the sex. It’s totally not Jensen’s fault; they’re sleeping downstairs now, in his old bed, and it’s a Queen when he’s used to a King. He can’t be held responsible for what happens when he has to sleep even closer to Jared than usual. He also can’t be held responsible for the fact that Jared is completely unable to resist his advances.
“You fight dirty,” Jared groans. “It’s totally not fair.”
“Them’s the breaks, Champ.” Jensen slaps him on the ass and goes to make the coffee.
Sunday, they work in the morning, fuck in the afternoon, and drive to Dallas in the evening for the game at seven o’clock. The Mavs win; Jensen gloats and Jared pouts, then Jensen blows him on the balcony of their room at the W.
“Okay fine,” Jared huffs, hands braced against the railing on either side of Jensen’s head. “we’ll call it even.”
Monday and Tuesday they work feverishly on the deck, until they’re sunburned and so sore they can barely move. By the end of the night Tuesday they can walk up honest-to-God stairs from the deck in the yard and sit on the second story deck to drink their beer. Jared digs the sleeping bags out of the shed.
“Dude, do you think the neighbors can see us up here?” Jared sounds only mildly curious, even though they’re naked and making out under the stars in the cool April air.
Jensen shifts under him, scoots until a corner of the blanket comes free and he can pull it over them.
“There,” he pants, and keeps sucking at Jared’s mouth. “Shut up now.”
On Wednesday they drive back to Dallas and have lunch with Mackenzie and Will. Jensen gets the idea that she thinks it earns her extra cool points, having a gay brother. She seems way more interested in him now than she ever was before, which he actually finds pretty funny.
The Spurs win, and Jared blows Jensen on the W balcony.
“Because fair’s fair,” he insists, like Jensen’s gonna object.
Thursday, they get the stairs in place for the top level of the deck, and take turns climbing up to the top of them and confirming how great the view is gonna be.
“This was a fucking awesome idea, Jared,” Jared says pointedly.
“Careful,” Jensen rolls his eyes, “don’t break your arm, there.”
Friday, they work in the morning, fuck in the afternoon, and drive to San Antonio in the evening for the game at eight-thirty. Jared wears the Ginobili jersey he got at the Denver game Jensen took him to however-many years ago; the Spurs win, and Jensen starts to look worried.
“Nowitzki had a really good game,” Jared tries, by way of half-assed encouragement.
Jensen just glares.
“Shut your big, whiny Argentinean mouth.”
= = = = =
On the second Saturday, they get the top platform of the deck finished. Jared really, really wants to sleep up there, but the railing isn’t in place yet and Jensen absolutely isn’t having it.
“Dude, you’re no fun.” Jared pouts, sitting on the edge and swinging his feet, still not willing to come down.
“You want to pout, sit up here by yourself. You want fun, come to bed.” Jensen cuffs him on the back of the head and climbs down the stairs.
Sunday night is game four in San Antonio, but Jared is so excited that Jensen lets himself be dragged out of bed at six a.m., just to make sure they finish all the construction today. They’re done early enough that even after they stomp up and down the stairs four or five times, step on every board and shake every inch of railing just to make sure she’s solid, they still have time to take a quick dip in the freezing cold pool, and take a nap before they have to leave.
“That Big Ass Deck was a fucking awesome idea, Jared,” Jensen whispers into his shower-wet hair while they’re spooned together in bed.
“We’re gonna sleep there tonight.” Jared sounds like a little kid, all excited about a new toy. “Right?”
“Yeah,” Jensen rubs his hand across the damp, naked skin of Jared’s belly and sucks at the back of his neck, “but the neighbors can definitely see us up there; we better take care of business now.”
The Spurs win to take a 3-1 lead in the series, but Jensen doesn’t want to ruin Jared’s big night on the top deck, so he doesn’t pout. Much.
Monday, they wake up on the deck with the sun on their faces at six a.m, then go downstairs to bed and sleep in as a reward for all their hard work. They wake up later for a slow, lazy fuck and go to Maudie’s for breakfast tacos before they break out the paint. Jared bought two new professional-grade sprayers, so they can re-paint the house while they’re at it; when they’re done everything will be all shiny-new and perfectly matched. Jensen has to admit, he’s been pretty impressed with Jared’s dedication to the whole project. He’s also been pretty amused with how fussy Jared’s been about the whole thing.
“I don’t know,” Jared’s looking at the two paint samples they put up on the side of the house, closing one eye then the other, moving his hand from side to side in front of his face. “Which one do you like?”
“You mean the gray, or the gray?” Jensen rolls his eyes. “Just pick one, princess. We’re burning daylight.”
Tuesday they paint in the morning, barely manage to scrub themselves clean enough to be presentable for the game in Dallas that night. Jensen is twitchy and quiet, white knuckling through a tightly contested first half, but when the Mavs start to pull away in the third quarter he starts to loosen up a little. Back at the hotel, they disagree over who owes whom a blow job, since the Mavs won, but the Spurs still lead the series. In the end, Jensen makes the whole discussion moot when he announces that he really just wants Jared to fuck him.
“And, we have a winner.” Jared grins, and yanks Jensen’s fly open.
By Wednesday, Jensen is starting to wonder if there’s a light at the end of the tunnel of endless painting. The deck has had its last coat, but the house is still a work in progress. They decide to put down the paint for awhile and finish sealing up the new doors in the bedroom, get it done just in time to move their stuff back upstairs and spend the night in their room.
“Man, it’s good to be back,” Jensen sighs as he sprawls out naked on the huge, fluffy new bed, still damp from an extended turn in the big shower.
“We were downstairs in our own house.” Jared rolls his eyes. “You act like you were in a third world country.”
On Thursday, they wake up with the light slanting down across their feet from the skylight, just like it should be, and all is right with the world again as far as Jensen’s concerned. They finish the house in time to head to San Antonio for Game 6; just the doors, the shutters and the windows are left and it will all be over.
Dallas looks like they’re gonna lay down and die in the first half, and Jensen is so disgusted he’s ready to walk out. But they come back, go up by one in the third, and actually make a game out of it. In the end, it’s still a ten point spread in the last minutes, and Jensen sulks and sips his lukewarm beer, annoyed when Jared cheers and annoyed when he doesn’t. The walk back to the car is silent.
“Dude, I fuckin’ hate the Spurs.” Jensen finally says, voice choked like he’s in physical pain.
Jared throws an arm around his neck as they walk, rests a hand on top of his head and ruffles his hair sympathetically.
“I know you do, man.”
= = = = =
Saturday there’ll be no Game 7, no last trip to Dallas for all the marbles the way Jensen was hoping, so they’ll go to Home Depot instead. Jared will spend an hour choosing just the right shade of red for the front door and Jensen will say yes, I like it and looks good, let’s do it to every sample Jared shows him. He'll shuffle around looking at paint brushes and rolling pans to kill the time, trying not to roll his eyes too much. Sunday they should have time to make it to church and still finish painting. Monday Jared will go back to work and Jensen will go back to spending his days practicing with his band, watching baseball, grocery shopping, and waiting for Jared to come home.
But today is Friday, the last day of April, and they’ve been doing trim work all day. The weather was overcast and sunny by turns, air hot and stiflingly thick; they worked with a purpose from daybreak on, both way past ready for this to be finished. They stopped only to go pick up sandwiches from Thundercloud, kept right on painting while they ate.
Now they’re sitting side by side on the south-facing edge of the top deck, legs dangling, elbows tucked over the middle rung of the railing. They’re watching the sun disappear behind the trees in the Western hills, watching it paint a rainbow of colors across the low, thick thunder clouds that are starting to roll in. The dogs were finally allowed into the back yard after being restricted to non-painting areas for a week, and after running around, sniffing everything new there is to sniff and swimming all afternoon, they’re tucked up together on the second floor deck, still not convinced that the company of Jensen and Jared is worth the scary climb up to the top level.
“Some vacation, J-man,” Jensen sucks on his beer and looks out over the red Spanish-tiled rooftops of the University of Texas, past the Tower and the pink dome of the Capitol to the lights of Downtown Austin just starting to come on.
“Sucks that you took all that time off and all you got to do was work.”
“And hang out with you,” Jared smiles, bumps Jensen with his shoulder. “And watch hoops. And build this sweet, Big Ass Deck for our house.”
“Still. We should take a real vacation somewhere this summer. We never really have.”
“Yeah? Where would you wanna go?”
“I don’t care, man. Wherever you wanna go.”
“Jeff says the fishing’s good on Copano Bay.”
“Yep.”
“Or we could just go to the beach. I haven’t been to Padre since Spring Break Junior year.”
Jensen grins and elbows him.
“Yeah. Or hey, we could even leave the state.”
Jared looks affronted.
“Dude. Why would we do that, when we have everything you need right here?”
Jensen rolls his eyes, but he keeps on grinning.
Jared just laughs, bumps his shoulder again.
“So you’d go with me wherever I wanted, really?”
Jensen nods, shrugs.
“Sure. Why not?”
Jared wraps his sticky arm around Jensen’s sticky neck, nudges at Jensen’s chin with his thumb until Jensen turns his face up. Jared kisses him soundly, beer breath and sweaty, paint-spattered face and all.
“You know, Ackles, you turned out to be a pretty okay guy.” Jared grins. “I could’ve done worse.”
“Yeah, well.” Jensen leans into him, temple pressed to Jared’s stubbly jaw as he looks out over the city. “Back at ya.”
= END =
| MASTER POST | PART 10 LYRIC CREDITS |