yes i did notice the implosion. moving along.
the six strange things about me meme1. I can't stand to have anything drawn on my skin. ive never used my hands as notepads, drawn smiley faces or whatever. when im writing feverishly and getting ink on them, i have to wash it off. it annoys me. a lot
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Jared/Jensen first kiss
Jared’s alone in the waiting room, bobbing his knees, running his hands up and down his thighs to cause some friction, hurt; trying to get his mind off this. Whatever this might turn out to be. There’s a lady a few seats over, looking at him questionably; recognising him or repelling him, one or the other.
“Jay!”
Jensen’s walking out of the exam room and he’s grinning; his eyes all sparkly in the overhead lights, crinkling at the corners. Jared knows that smile, and it goes straight to his gut, and he doesn’t have to ask, he knows. It’s good news. Thank God, it’s good news. There’s 6 foot gazillion of limbs and chests and hugs and Jared’s got himself all wrapped around Jensen swaying him from side to side.
“Thank God, thank God, thank God.”
Jensen lets out a gruff little laugh, “Okay, okay, dude you’re killing me here.”
“Not funny.”
“Come on, let’s go, place gives me the creeps.”
Jared throws his arm around Jensen, smiling from ear to ear, can’t help this feeling; leading him out of the hospital and talking animatedly about what they should do, go play some ball, go eat lots of food, go bungee jumping. Jensen’s just laughing, just happy to be rid of this, months of waiting, of not knowing. He just says, yeah man, sure man, whatever you want, I’m with ya.
As he opens the car door, Jared’s not sure what it is. Maybe the sun catching in Jensen’s hair, or the nervy bob of his throat or the relieved shake of his hands; maybe the years of pretending that this was just his best friend and not somebody he couldn’t be without, had to call every half hour to check on. Maybe the reason why he’s here now, that Jensen asked him, said only you, okay? I only want you with me. Or maybe it’s the knowing, now, that there’s no point waiting until later; because later isn’t always going to be there.
For whatever reason Jared says, “Hey, Jensen,” grabbing him gently by the forearm and Jensen looks up, smiles, and sees it to. He closes the car door without stepping in and nods, says, “Yeah,” really quietly, invitingly, and Jared’s there in one stride, his head dipped, his mouth open on Jensen’s.
It’s slow, clumsy, just lips and breath and thrill; and Jared has his hands on Jensen’s neck, face, through his hair, feeling him, keeping him.
With their mouths together, they breathe.
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