Along Came Jared - Chapter 4

[namichan89]

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They end up in each other's beds three days in a row, and the fourth time Jensen buries himself balls-deep in Jared's ass, Jared groans uneasily.

“Did I hurt you?” Jensen asks immediately, preparing to pull back out gently.

“No, it's not that,” Jared chuckles, then laughs, “Actually, I'm sore.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Jensen grins, kisses him softly, and starts to move slowly. It's true, he wasn't too careful yesterday. They had been in a hurry, since they should've already been on their way to Capitol Hill. But they had both been horny ever since Jared had managed to massage Jensen's dick through his thin suit pants when they were on lunch break, up on the roof and alone. It had been a hustle to get each other's clothes off and to get to the bedroom without bumping into any furniture, and they skipped the prep part completely. Jared had been fine throughout all of it. Hell, he'd been the one riding Jensen into next Sunday.

“I haven't been sore in... forever,” Jared grins. “I'm not usually the one who bottoms. It's something I only do when I feel like it.”

Jensen nips at his lips, moves his mouth down his jaw and neck, enjoys the way Jared arches up into him. “Or when it's me?” he teases.

“Or when it's you,” Jared sighs when Jensen apparently manages to hit his prostate. “We could always switch, you know. One day, let me tell you, I wanna show you what this feels like.”

To cover his slight shock at Jared's words, Jensen groans and thrusts into him once again. “Nah, don't think so.”

Jared's hands run down his back, cup his ass cheeks firmly, guiding his moves. “You're missing out, Jen. C'mere.”

Jensen follows when Jared motions for him to lean down, and Jared leans his head against Jensen's when he whispers into his ear, “Should I tell you what this feels like? Being so full, having your prostate stimulated with every thrust? Being touched so deeply by someone you trust, being at his mercy? It's pretty damn awesome. And I know how great topping is, trust me. The only reason why I prefer to top is because I like having power over someone else, make them come helplessly with my dick up his ass.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jensen grins, and keeps up the rhythm that Jared's hands have created by yanking Jensen forward.. And that's just typical for Jared - not even wanting to be the more passive partner when he's fucked missionary style and pinned down by Jensen's hands.

“One day, Jen,” Jared moans, and lets his hands drop back. “One day you'll beg for my cock.”

Jensen swallows, wills down the wave of arousal Jared's words stir up within him. “We'll see.”

“Yeah. Now c'mon. I'm already sore, so fuck it. Fuck me,” Jared's breath is hot on Jensen's cheek, and it's pretty much the hottest sentence he's ever heard out of his friend.

Jensen smirks. “What was that?”

“I said fuck me,” Jared moans, voice raw and low, “Fuck me so long and so hard that I can't sit tomorrow.”

He doesn't need to say it a third time.



“What's the plan for Sunday?” Jensen asks one morning towards the end of June, after he let the dogs out into the yard.

“Dude. Pride parade,” Jared deadpans, spatula in hand as he's making pancakes. “You know where to find me.”

“Hm,” Jensen answers absentmindedly. Jared has a drop of pancake batter on his cheek, and he quickly swipes it off with his index finger and licks it clean.

For a few moments, Jared looks at him, completely speechless.

“What?”

“Nothing, just... gimme a second,” Jared says, flips the pancake in the frying pan, then turns to Jensen. He backs Jensen against the kitchen counter, and grabs his thighs just in time to heave him up onto the surface. He's only in his boxers, just like Jensen, because it's Saturday and they have the day off, so they only just got out of bed.

“You are fucking adorable,” Jared adds with a smirk, eyes traveling over Jensen's disheveled state. He kisses Jensen, quick and affectionately.

“'m not adorable,” Jensen grumbles against his lips.

“Don't even try to deny it.”

More kisses muffle Jensen's protests, until Jared leans back and looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Dude, the pancakes,” Jensen says reluctantly.

“Oh, right, almost forgot.”

Jared turns back around, flips the pancake once more and decides that it's ready to put it on the stack he's building on a nearby plate. Sadie trots into the kitchen and heads immediately for her and Harley's bowl of water, slurping some up and spilling the other half in a radius of a two feet around the bowl. Then she flops down on her side onto the doggie bed in the corner, snuggling into Harley, who's already there, sleeping.

However voluntary or involuntary the thought is, when Jensen looks back at Jared, to find him whistling as he pours enough batter for the next pancake into the pan, he sees something else entirely.

There's still Jared and him and the dogs, but there's a baby in his arms, sleeping with his or her tiny face mashed into Jensen's chest. There's a toddler, too, stumbling in from the hallway to smack into Jared's leg and wrap his little arms around it, asking when the pancakes are ready.

The sun is shining through the window as Jensen blinks a few times and finds himself back in reality. The realization of what his vivid daydream suggests hits him hard, and leaves him with warmth and affection for Jared, as well as a churning feeling of confusion in his chest. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

Jesus, yes, it would fit so well, and yet...

“You could always come with me, you know,” Jared says, oblivious to how spaced-out Jensen is.

“I don't think I’d fit in, sorry,” Jensen shakes his head, “Unless they have a '30-plus and still confused' group in the Pride parade, that's not for me.”

“You could walk with the allies. Or, hell, I could get you a wig from somewhere and we put you in a pretty sparkly dress and you can walk with the drag queens. Bet you'd look really good with cherry red lip stick,” Jared muses aloud, obviously teasing him.

Jensen hops down from the counter, grabs Jared firmly around the waist and kisses him, then grins. “Bet you'd look really pretty in lip stick and a dress, too, and hey-we wouldn't even need a wig.”

“Oh fuck you, Ackles,” Jared tries to look offended, but fails miserably with his way too adorable pout.

“You wish, big guy.”

“Don't make me turn off the stove,” Jared warns, pulling Jensen into a hard kiss while pushing their hips together, and their cocks harden against each other's.

“Nah. I'd starve, I'm hungry as hell.”

“Good,” Jared smiles, then adds, “You know, I get that it's not easy for you at the moment, and there's no non-selfish way to put this, but... it'd mean a lot to me if you would be there tomorrow, any way you wish.”

“Is there a group of the Capitol Hill guys?”

“Yes, there is. It's actually where I'll be, too, and there's other allies as well.”

Jared leaves it at that, and Jensen doesn't ask anything further until the pancakes are done and they're sitting out on the porch, with two cups of coffee and a bottle of syrup between them.

“So what does one wear at a pride parade? Because I don't have anything in rainbow colors or anything sparkly.”

Jared studies him for a second. “Anything you like. We usually have t-shirts that we give out to the participants.”

“Okay, then.”

It's not the big deal it had seemed to be at first, but Jared looks at him, even stops eating for a few moments, and breaks into a huge, toothy grin. Jared opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again and swallows the piece of pancake he was chewing.

The blowjob Jensen gets later that day says it all, though.



“They rejected the offer,” Sam says on a hot day in early July, after Jensen stepped into her office. She sighs.

Jensen sighs, too, and takes a seat. “Like we thought they would.”

Sam just leans back in her chair and watches him in anticipation.

“Dragging this to court come hell or high water is saying a lot, though. It's a lot of paperwork and a lot of effort to do this, so if they were just interested in the money, they would've taken the offer. They wouldn't have been happy about it, since it's an affront that we so successfully sold a book they had the rights to when they couldn't.”

“So you think that's their motive?”

“Come to think of it, it makes sense, right? Ruining us, the small publisher, for ruining their reputation.”

Sam shakes her head. “There's no way we can prove it, and to just imply that without evidence is defamation.”

“But it's a start,” Jensen objects. “How much time do we have until the hearing? I assume there's gonna be a hearing.”

“It's gonna be on September 27th.”

“Alright. I think that gives me enough time to do some research.”

“On?”

“Preparing a defensive speech like you wouldn't believe,” Jensen grins.

“Well, for someone who said they didn't like their former job because of all the litigation work and preparation and taking care of court cases, you seem pretty enthusiastic about this,” Sam grins right back. “I knew there was a reason I hired you.”

“You know, at this point, it's a matter of honor for me, too,” Jensen explains. “Although, I’ve gotta ask something from you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Since there won't be much happening during August, Jared and I would like to take two weeks off, if you're okay with that. I promise that it won't affect the preparation of this case.”

“Jensen, that's completely fine. I trust you on this. You need some time off some time, too, so go ahead. Recharge your batteries,” Sam says, a lot softer than before. “Do you and Jared have plans, if I may ask?”

“Not really, no. This year has been busy enough for me, with the move and all, so I'm glad to stay a few days at home,” Jensen explains.

Sam looks at him cryptically, and smiles.



The work days get longer for Jensen, since the Green case takes up pretty much all of his time.

Mike still hasn't found the contract.

“I'm sorry. It doesn't seem to be in any of the boxes. I'm currently looking through all of the stuff I've got here again, but it's not there,” he told Jensen on the phone two days ago, and Jensen has honestly come to peace with the fact that he'll have to make do without Mike's copy of the contract.

When Jensen brings up the case to Misha a few days before Jared's birthday, Misha actually perks up. “Why haven't I heard of this before?”

“I don't know, I guess we never came to talk about it,” Jensen shrugs.

“Okay,” Misha nods. “You would've worked on the case this afternoon anyway, right?”

“Yes?”

“Good. You, me, coffee, now. We need to talk,” Misha states firmly, grabs Jensen's wrist, and pulls him towards the elevator.

Five minutes later, they're sitting in Ty's coffee shop, each with a cup of fair trade organic Sumatran roast in front of them. “Seriously?” Jensen asks when Misha reaches for the soy milk.

“Yes, seriously,” Misha deadpans. “Now. Does the name Kripke publishing ring any bells?”

Jensen takes a sip from his coffee, surprised to find that he likes its taste a lot. “Hey, that's actually pretty good,” he comments. “And no, to answer your question. Should it?”

Misha sighs. “Probably not. But here's the story. I've worked in publishing pretty much all my life. I've lived in Seattle for a long while, long before Sam and Sera opened their publishing firm here. And I had worked for Kripke for years before I started here.”

“So, who is this Kripke?”

“At the moment? Just a regular freelance editor who works for us. His publishing business had to file for bankruptcy-after Green sued him for too much money for a completely ridiculous lawsuit. Sound familiar?”

“What are you implying?” Jensen asks, raising both eyebrows.

“Well, as you might have noticed, Green doesn't have the best PR, and Editorial and Production management. They're relying on their reputation to sell their books, and are too stingy to hire a good ad agency. It's what their president's policy has been for years; I've got some... acquaintances working there. They don't get good staff for the departments that matter.”

“Okay,” Jensen nods, frowning. “So you think they wipe off smaller publishers to get to their personnel?”

“Maybe. I think part of it is just a blatant money-grab, and revenge for being out-smarted by a small business that hasn’t got the resources they have, but manages to make a well-sold book out of one of their leftovers. But yeah, I think there's a system. This all sounds so fishy. Wwho would let a contract run for another 10 years if there's no termination? I know they legally can do that, but it's so uncommon that this stinks to high heaven.”

“But it looks like they actually made that agreement.”

Misha huffs. “Honestly, I don't believe it.”

“We can't prove anything, so what are we going to do?”

“Find more former clients of Green, more former small publishers going bankrupt because of them. I always wondered why small presses never get bigger around here. Either Green keeps them small or they sue them until they're done for. With Kripke, we couldn't find anything against them because we didn't have any evidence. It's been almost seven years, and I hardly even remember what the lawsuit was about; I do, however, know that it was just as ridiculous as this one. So if you can find anything against Green, you might do the world a great favor.”

Jensen chuckles sarcastically. “I can do that, after I save our own ass. That's huge, you know that, right? That's something for a law firm, not for me, general in-house counsel for a small publisher.”

“Don't sell yourself short. I looked a bit into the kind of cases you did before you started here, and you and I both know there have been cases way more hopeless than this one. You've got , charm and self-confidence and charisma, so if anyone can do this, it's you.” Misha smiles at him, honest and wide, then reaches over the table to clap his hand on Jensen's shoulder encouragingly.

“Wow, um... thank you, Mish,” Jensen replies, otherwise speechless.

“Now, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

Misha doesn't answer and instead waves Ty over to their table. It's a rather slow afternoon, and Ty hands them a plate full of rainbow-sprinkled cookies when he sits down beside them. “Hey guys,” he greets them warmly. “Here, have some Pride cookies.”

“Thanks,” Misha mumbles, already reaching for a first cookie. “So, what are we getting Jared for his birthday?”



The weeks fly by way too quickly; Jared's birthday comes and goes, and the few meetings with Kripke brings forward less information than Jensen had hoped for. At least Kripke can name a few other companies in similar situations. While he's at peace with not running a publishing company any more, Kripke is helpful in getting background information on Green.

But solid evidence is still nowhere to be seen by the time Jared and Jensen go on holiday for two weeks.

It's quiet and enjoyable, and they spend most of their time at Jared's house, with the dogs, with the TV, with Jared's Xbox, and with sex. A lot of sex. Jensen brought a suitcase filled with clothes over when it became clear he wouldn't sleep much at his apartment.

Jensen tried to take Jared golfing, but they quickly found out that this wasn't Jared's cup of tea. Jensen couldn’t explain to Jared how golf was relaxing when most of the time he was shouting either at the ball or at the golf club. Jared didn't even manage to hit the ball. After three drives, Jared had wordlessly given back the golf club and declared himself a hopeless case.

That night, Jensen made up for it with a slow, lazy fuck, until Jared was so gone that he didn't even mind the wasted day. And Jensen got to sleep with his head on Jared's shoulder.

All in all, it's pretty much perfect, until somewhere during their second week off. They've just had very satisfying morning sex-really, Jensen could get used to this frequency: he hasn't been this sexually satisfied in months before Jared happened-when Jared starts the very last discussion Jensen wants to have during post-coital, naked cuddling.

“Hey, Jen,” he says softly, as the fingers of his right hair play with Jensen's short strands of hair, “can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Jensen hums lazily in reply.

Jared takes a deep breath, which is about all the warning Jensen gets that something uncomfortable might come up.

“How exactly would you identify now? Straight, gay, bi, whatever? I mean, after those couple months and all. I'm just curious. You don't need to answer if you don't want to.”

Raising his head so he can rest his chin right on Jared's left chest muscle, Jensen ponders. “I haven't really thought about it, to be honest.” Which is, he's aware, the lamest excuse he could've come up with, but it also isn't technically a lie.

“But... you're questioning if you're straight, right?”

That one has long since flown out of the window, Jensen thinks and huffs. “Is it enough to say that I'm questioning it?” he asks back carefully.

Jared smiles gently. “Of course. You know, it's a big step, accepting who you are and-”

“What exactly are you implying?” Jensen asks, and presses his lips into a tight line. He feels that old, familiar anger well up in his chest, even though part of him knows that Jared shouldn’t be his target. But the thoughts have been there for a while and were only pushed closer and closer to the surface with time.

“Nothing, I'm implying exactly nothing. That's something you have to find out for yourself.”

“And yet, you think you can decide it for me,” Jensen comments, and the wave of anger surprises him with its intensity. He rises up to lean on his elbow.

“I'm not-Jensen, I'm not deciding anything for you.”

Maybe they've spent a bit too much time with each other over the past weeks. They haven't fought in all the months they've known each other, but Jensen feels too troubled and upset to discuss this calmly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but that sounded a whole lot like, 'Heh, you're gay, you just don't know it yet' and if you think that, you can fuck right off,” Jensen spits. He sits up completely and looks down at Jared, still sprawled out on the bed with the duvet up to his hips.

Jared's mouth snaps shut in a split second and his eyes turn cold. The warm spark and the relaxing glow of post-sex cuddling are gone. “What the hell is your problem? What's so horrible about being gay?” His voice is deep, boiling with suppressed anger, too.

“Nothing!” Jensen gestures widely as his voice booms through the room. “Exactly nothing. It's just that I'm not gay, is all.”

“But you're not straight either!” Jared objects, still obviously trying to sound calm, when the way he's fisting his hand into the sheets, and the way every muscle around his mouth and brows has tensed, tells Jensen otherwise.

“Yeah, so what? You know, nobody needs boxes anyway. Boxes are stupid and I don't need them, I can be what I want. And, you know, until right now, I had thought we were happy with how things are.”

Jared's face twists in disbelief again. “Seriously? What is your problem? I just asked, quiet and simple, what you're identifying as. If you would've said that you don't want to put yourself into one box, why didn't you just say so?”

“Because you were the one who immediately stuffed me into one!” Jensen yells back, this time leaping up from the mattress. A hot rage roared up inside him, accompanied by images of old shame.

“I didn't-look I didn't mean it like that,” Jared tries to calm him down. He sits up, too, and scoots over to Jensen's side of the bed, watching patiently.

Jensen can see his efforts, but he's barely able to hear him over the rush of adrenaline that his fury sends through him. His blood is pounding in his ears, and he's aware that he's panting and balling his hands to fists.

Trying to reach out to him, Jared lifts his hand to one of Jensen's fists, but Jensen quickly pulls it out of his grip. “Don't touch me,” he growls with venom.

“Jesus, touchy,” Jared's eyes are wide now as he looks up at Jensen. “Is there something I missed? Something I should know?”

Jensen presses his eyes shut, wills the images to go away, but they don't obey. There is something Jared should know, but he's way too angry right now to form one coherent sentence.

Instead of an answer, Jensen quickly grabs the next pair of boxers on the floor and steps into them. “You have a punch bag in the basement, right?”

“Uhm, yeah?”

“Let's go there before I say something I'll regret later.” It's not Jared he wants to hurt, after all.

With that, Jensen turns around and heads for the door. He takes the steps downstairs two at a time, and it takes Jared a few moments to catch up with him.

The punch bag is waiting for him, hanging idle from the ceiling, when Jensen opens the door to Jared's workout room. He quickly bandages his hands and slips into Jared's slightly too big boxing gloves, and finally he's able to punch his right fist into the bag as hard as he can.

Jared quickly rounds him and the bag, just to come to a halt behind it, holding it for Jensen. “C'mon, gimme your best,” he says.

Jensen doesn't need to be told twice, and he buries his fists relentlessly into the hard sand; he almost enjoys the cracking of his fingers and joints under the impact, and the burn in his knuckles. God, he's angry. Stupid-

“Stupid fucking jerk,” he grinds out, hitting the bag yet again with a well-placed uppercut, and Jared has to duck behind it in order to not get Jensen's gloved fist into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that was a nice Shoryuken,” Jared perks up from behind the punch bag. “But where's your Hadoken?”

“Fuck you,” Jensen spits again and starts a series of left and right punches that leave him breathless.

“Again, c'mon,” Jared spurs him on.

Jensen kicks his bare foot against the leather, the slap loud in his ears over his panting, and he's sure that this one will hurt like a bitch tomorrow morning.

“Guh!” he yells out loud and slams his fist one last time into the bag.

And, that's it.

He hasn't got any energy left. All the anger and rage oozes out of him, and makes him slump down on the bench press. The gloves are suddenly way too heavy on his hands. He peels them off, lets them hit the floor with a dull thump.

Jared comes over, sits down beside him, and only now does Jensen notice that he's also panting hard. “Must've been one son of a bitch to deserve all these punches,” he says with a tight-lipped smile.

Jensen takes a deep breath, still in the process of calming down. At his side, Jared waits patiently.

“Well, you just met Tommy Barnes from my old high school. And believe me when I say, he deserved worse than that,” Jensen finds himself answering, and suddenly the words just flow. “He was a grade-A douchebag. From the moment he saw me as a freshman, he decided I had to be gay because I looked like a girl. Which, you know, made sense in the parallel universe he and his friends were living in. Point is, they made my high school life hell. Complete with spray-painting my locker pink, stuffing pink cotton candy into my bag, calling me a faggot each time they saw me. The school, even though my mom practically tore the headmaster a new one, couldn't or wouldn't do shit. So yeah, there you've got my explanation.”

Jared looks at him with wide, sympathetic eyes, his lips opening and closing without finding the right words to say. “I'm sorry,” is what he ends up with, almost too quiet to hear, and he wraps Jensen up in his strong, muscular arms without hesitating. “I'm sorry for... I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. I know how it can be. And I'm sorry if I wanted to make you fit into a box you don't want to be fitted into.”

“Just... give me some time, okay? I'll figure it out,” Jensen answers wearily with his face buried in the crook of Jared's neck. “Not that I wouldn't be fine with the no-boxes concept, but I'm... that only works for so long. Truth be told, I'm one of those guys who need to know where they are. In life, you know. I need stability and something to build on. All of this has been throwing me for a loop, pretty much all this time. I don't even know what to think any more.”

“Hey,” Jared pulls back to look into Jensen's eyes, fixing him with an earnest stare. “Hey. We can stop that... this, whatever we're doing, anytime, if it helps you.”

It takes only a few seconds for Jensen to make his decision about that. “No, I don't want this to stop.”

“Good,” Jared breathes out, obviously deeply relieved, “I wouldn't want that, either. No matter what you figure out about yourself.”

In silent gratefulness, Jensen bumps his forehead against Jared's and closes his eyes. They sit like this for a long while, just calming down and catching their breath, breathing in each other's air. Jared still smells like come and sex and condoms, which isn't particularly turning Jensen on right now, but there's also the subtle fruity-fresh smell of his shampoo, of his aftershave, and of that bit that's completely and simply Jared. This has all become home for Jensen.

“So, we're good?” Jensen eventually asks. His voice rough and almost gives out at the end.

“Yeah, we're good,” Jared answers, and, without opening his eyes, Jensen can hear the smile in his tone.

This time it's Jensen who leans up to kiss Jared, placing gentle, quick kisses on his full lips. Unable to suppress it, Jensen smiles into the kiss, and meets Jared's already persistent grin as they fall into an easy push and pull of lips with short licks in-between.

It's all over way too soon, but Jensen openly shivers now. He leans back and breaks the kiss.

They're in a chilly basement, wearing only boxers, and it's morning. Plus, the unplanned workout left them sweaty and even more exposed to the chill of the AC.

That's when Jensen notices something else. “Hey, you're wearing my underwear,” he chuckles. “Which is... yeah, kinda nice.”

“It was the only pair still lying around,” Jared counters with a grin. “Since you took mine.”

Quietly, Jensen starts to laugh, and Jared soon joins him.

“C'mon, let's go upstairs. Hot shower together?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jensen sighs and allows Jared to pull him to his feet and lead him up the stairs, all the while holding onto his hand.

And though he didn't plan on spilling his guts to Jared, it sure helped clear a few things up, which is, all in all, not a bad thing.



Despite their talk, Jared starts to get quieter, acting completely different than he usually does. Jensen hopes it's just cabin fever that'll pass when they return to work, since they spent practically every minute with each other over the past two weeks.

But, no. A week passes and Jensen still doesn't know what's up with Jared. Jared won't answer when Jensen asks, and only retreats more into his shell, a shell Jensen never knew he even had in the first place.

Jensen asks him for a weekend apart, for some time on his own, thinking that it'll help both of them. Jared apparently needs some distance, and Jensen has a plan.

He has to prove something to himself, although he isn't sure how well that will turn out. Jared seems disappointed, but insists that Jensen take some time for himself if he needs it.

That is how Jensen ends up alone in a bar one late, mild August night, feeling a bit lost and missing Jared.

But loneliness isn't why he's here.



Her name is Tammi and she has great tits.

That's about all Jensen knows about her.

This, he's sure, is going to help him either get over the whole Jared thing or accept it. He just needs to know if he still can enjoy beautiful women and hetero sex or if Jared has ruined him for anybody else.

Jensen is pretty sure that hasn't happened, as he looks her up and down in the dim light of her bedroom. Jensen takes a mental note that, while she doesn’t make the list of the most beautiful women that he's ever slept with, she is still cute, and he likes the gentle curve of her hips. Plus, she makes up for the rest with enthusiasm and charm, and with really damn hot underwear.

The moment she had walked into the bar, Jensen had felt her eyes on him. When he offered to buy her a drink, she had been more than happy to take him up on the offer. Cut to half-hearted making out in the restroom hallway and her hushed “Wanna get out of here?”

So, she'd been decent looking, not drunk - not from the one beer he'd bought her, that she didn't even finish, and she didn't smell like booze when he had kissed her - and more than consenting.

But when she looks at him all sweet and seductive, her eyes lack the particular urgency and desire that he's become used to these days.

When her hands wrap around his dick, stroking him a bit awkwardly due to the strange angle, all Jensen can think about is that they are too small, that her fingers are too delicate. That there's another palm which stroked him only days ago with just the right amount of pressure and rhythm, making him desperate and ready to come just from that simple motion.

When she closes her lips around his dick, sucking him down until the head hits the back of her throat, Jensen barely sighs. There's none of those deep, rolling groans dropping from his lips, the ones he thought he would never be able to hold back any more.

Overall, the blowjob isn't bad. She certainly has skill, and if his situation were any different, Jensen would most definitely enjoy it. However, he can't help but wish for floppy brown hair he could entangle his fingers in, as he holds the strands back from falling into a certain someone's eyes and guides said someone's head down onto him.

Tammi has long, blonde locks, and they're gathered in a ponytail, so there's nowhere for Jensen to place his hands. If he'd lay them on her head, she might probably fear he was about to shove his dick down her throat, make her choke on it, whether she likes it or not. And that is so not what Jensen would do. If she trusted him - which she doesn't, of course, since they just met an hour ago - she'd know that he wouldn't do that and he could put his hands there anyway.

So Jensen gently places one hand on her shoulder, and uses the other arm to cover his eyes.

And when he's unable to see the difference, Jensen feels it even more. Tammi tries to deep-throat him, to impress him, but promptly makes herself choke.

“Hey, hey,” Jensen's eyes fly open as he soothes her softly, stroking his hand over her shoulder, “you don't need to.”

“Sorry,” she says, again with that sweet, seductive smile that lacks the right amount of heat.

When she goes back down on him, and her small fingers wrap around the base of his cock, holding it in place while her tiny, soft body rocks against his, Jensen can't deny it any more.

That's not Jared's hand on his cock, not Jared's mouth wrapped around its head, not Jared's broad shoulders with miles of muscles flexing underneath toned skin. The trademark, self-confident smile and the burning heat in his eyes as they bore into Jensen's are nowhere to be seen.

Tammi might have enthusiasm, but there's no passion in it.

He doesn't love her. He realizes with shocking clarity he doesn't even care if she gets something out of tonight or not.

Who is he kidding, anyway?

“Sorry,” Jensen whispers harshly, and Tammi stops to shoot a confused look at him, pulling her mouth off his cock.

“I can't. I'm sorry, and it's not your fault, but it's better if I... I better go.”

Without answering her repeated questions to explain what's up, Jensen collects his clothing that is scattered all over the floor of the bedroom and slips everything back on.

“I'm sorry,” is all he says, and, “Bye.”

Then he leaves, without looking back, feeling guilty and confused and ready to punch his fist into the next inanimate object.

He can't even bring himself to jerk off at home, too frustrated with the world to even get it up. Instead, he lays in bed and thinks. About women, and about Jared, and about how much he sucks for being an asshole to Tammi.



His meeting with Kripke the following Wednesday is as fruitless as the ones before. It's been a few years, and the blonde, balding man had gotten rid of most of his stuff from the publishing company he once owned.

“I couldn't do anything,” is all had been able to tell Jensen when they met first. “They had me by the balls, and I don't even know why exactly that was. Just that they left me no chance, and didn't want to negotiate or discuss anything. They just sued me until it was inevitable that I filed for bankruptcy.”

Jensen hummed in understanding, tapped his pen against his note pad. “Do you know any other publisher who had problems of this sort with Green?”

“Yes, I actually do. There's Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund. I'm still in touch with them and can give you their numbers. They both lost their companies to Green's lawsuits. Also, there's Thompson and Glass. They're a couple who runs a publishing company together, but they're barely in business these days. They lost their second lawsuit against Green just a few weeks ago.”

Jensen scribbled the information quickly on his pad. “That is actually more than helpful, Eric. Thank you so much.”

Several phone calls with said people and a very enjoyable lunch with Robbie Thompson and his partner Adam Glass later, Jensen still hasn't gotten anywhere. Except that they recognized each other immediately from a LGBTQ meeting at the Capitol Hill community center.

But, as he had said to Robbie earlier, “The plot thickens.”

No one has ever managed to prove that Green manipulated certain contract parts, but all of the people Jensen has talked to so far think the notion is very plausible.

Unfortunately, the law firm that is helping Jensen with this case can't find any new leads either.

At this point, he's pretty sure that Mike’s contract was forged by Green, but without evidence, who could he convince?



A week before the hearing, the tension between Jared and Jensen skyrockets, and all because Jensen can't let go of a simple question.

They are in bed, after two delicious rounds of fucking, and Jensen flops down into the sheets beside a once-again post-orgasmic Jared. They're breathless and spent and absolutely satisfied. And it would be perfect if it wasn't for the fact that they've barely spoken over the last couple days. The only thing they did was have sex, a lot.

Jared leans over the edge of the bed to grab the bottle of water he'd placed on the floor, hoping to avoid any questions. It's been like that for days now, and it puts Jensen's patience to a test. Jared still doesn't say what's wrong, he would rather slam Jensen up against the wall, kiss him breathless, and bend over the next horizontal surface for him.

The silence between them grows, and only the sound of both of them catching their breath fills the room.

Jensen falls back into the pillow that's been his ever since he first slept over. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, he thinks aloud and asks quietly, “What the hell are we even doing, man?”

“Don't,” Jared answers just as low. Jensen sees him shaking his head from the corner of his eyes.

“What?”

“Just... don't ask that.”

“Why?”

“Because that is a can of worms I'm sure you don't want to open,” Jared explains simply.

“So you still won’t tell me what's bothering you?”

“Nope.”

“Jared, work is stressful enough at the moment. I don't really want to have to worry about my best friend, too. So would you please just tell me? Is it because of Green?”

“Nah,” Jared shrugs, but Jensen can see the obvious lie and only raises an eyebrow. “Well, okay. Maybe it's because of Green.”

“Didn't I tell you I'll make this right?” Jensen replies sharply. “That you shouldn't feel guilty, especially now that it's pretty much clear that they're manipulating contracts?”

“You did. But you can hardly tell me that we have a good outlook, theories aside.”

Jensen shrugs. “Not at the moment, no, but I'm working at a kick-ass defense speech.”

“I'm sure you are, and I'm sure you're gonna knock it out of the park. But this... this is so huge, Jensen. If it goes wrong, and you know I'm generally an optimist, this will forever be my fault.”

“It's not gonna get that far,” Jensen states firmly. “You'll see.”

Jared huffs, but doesn't answer.

“There's more, though, isn't it?” Jensen asks tentatively, carding his fingers through Jared's hair soothingly.

“Yes,” Jared admits. “But I really don't know if I can talk about it.”

“Is it because of us?”

“Yes.”

“This... whatever we have-”

“Well, that's the point, Jen. What is 'this' to you? Who are we to each other?” Jared challenges him with a firm look, giving Jensen the feeling that some kind of dam just broke.

“Friends with benefits,” Jensen shrugs and looks over to Jared, only to find his friend's face crumble into a grimace. “What?”

Jared looks at the floor and runs his fingers absentmindedly over the sheets. “You don't see it, do you.” It's not a question.

“You gotta give me some hint here, Jared. I have no idea what you're talking about,” Jensen replies. However, the truth is that he feels panic rising up in his chest, fear of what Jared's about to say.

Huffing out a bitter laugh, Jared answers, “I couldn't possibly give you any more hints. I've asked you out on dates, spent practically my whole holiday in bed with you. I've made it pretty clear how much I want to be with you. Jensen, as much as I love sex with you, I don't want to be your fuckbuddy or your bootycall forever. I want a relationship, a partner, someone to start a family with.”

Jared's unabashed honesty leaves him speechless.

“I've wanted more than just sex for quite some time now,” Jared adds with a sidelong glance at Jensen. “So, there it is: the can of worms I was sure you wouldn't want to touch. Take it or leave it.”

Jensen swallows around the lump in his throat. “I'm... I'm sorry, Jay. But I told you, quite a while ago, that I'm not...”

“What? Gay?” Jared sneers, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Yeah, I know. God knows, I know. And how could I possibly assume that that would change overtime. You know, what with you sleeping with me-a man-all the time.”

“That doesn't-”

For the first time, Jared interrupts him angrily. “That doesn't what? Doesn't mean anything because you're 'not that guy'? Because I'll always be your dirty little secret and you can't stand up for who you are?”

“I am who I am!” Jensen firmly argues back, his voice raised as well.

“You are so deep in the closet, Jensen. And I won't follow you back in there; that you can believe,” Jared snarls.

“I'm not-why would I be in the closet?” Jensen stutters helplessly. It's not like he's dating Jared, right?

“Oh, you know, because you're fucking a guy? And you refuse to acknowledge it in any way?”

Jared is pissed now, obviously, but Jensen can't really blame him. His expectations had been unrealistic from the start. “And that makes me gay, just because I'm fucking a guy? I still like girls, too.”

Until I miss your hands and your mouth on me too much.

“Yeah, well, then you're something, but not straight. Personally, I honestly don't care for boxes. All I ever hoped for was that one day you'd see what's happening between us,” Jared yells.

It only riles Jensen up even more and makes him sit up straight on the mattress to frown at the other man. “So, what is it that's happening between us? Apparently, I'm blind and deaf and dumb. So please, feel free to enlighten me,” Jensen shouts back, and though his anger is fading, he can still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Jared slaps his hand over his eyes. “I'm in love with you, you fucking moron,” his voice is soft and almost too quiet for Jensen to hear.

Once again, Jensen finds himself speechless.

“So you know what?” Jared continues and drops his hand heavily onto his thigh. “I hate doing this. I hate pretending I don't care for you as more than a friend. I hate pretending that we're just colleagues who spend a fuck-ton of time with each other, and most of it in bed. I hate it like you wouldn't believe.”

“Okay,” Jensen coughs, but Jared keeps going.

“And I never, ever will pressure you to come out against your will or beliefs or whatever is that's going on in your head right now. I would never do that to anyone.”

“There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?” Jensen asks quickly.

Without looking at him, Jared answers the question. “But... If that's the way it's gonna be, then I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. If this isn't who you are, if there aren't any feelings involved on your part, then I'm this is gonna be it. We can be friends, but without the benefits part - because that part is killing me right now,” Jared admits with a heavy sigh. “So, do you have anything to say to that?”

Swallowing again around the lump in his throat, Jensen says meekly, “I really do... did see us as friends with benefits only, honestly. Nothing more. I'm not... I mean, I can't imagine being in a relationship with another man.” The sex is not the problem, Jensen knows, too well; the problem is telling people about how his child has two daddies, or walking down the street and getting the stink eye from people for no other reason than because he's with his partner. He's just not that guy.

“Why?” Jared cries out in frustration now, and the outburst startles Jensen. “Why not? I don't get it! We work perfectly, we are a good team, the sex is fucking mind-blowing, and you can't have a relationship with me because I'm a man? Is this really still about the gay thing?” His eyes notably well up with unshed tears at that, and Jensen feels horrible seeing that.

Wordlessly, Jensen shakes his head and notices how he chokes up with tears, too. Because he may or may not be wrong about himself here, but seeing Jared so hurt is affecting him, too.

“Then what is it?”

“I'm scared,” Jensen blurts out awkwardly, on a whim. In that brief moment, he is confident that he should simply say the truth and get it over with. “I'm thirty-fucking-five, Jared. I can't just jump into a relationship head-first anymore. Not when I'm still so unsure about myself, so unreliable. I mean, even if I don't know if I'm into guys, I know I like you. A whole damn fucking lot, okay?”

Jared's eyes go big and sad at that, and the picture tugs at Jensen's heartstrings painfully, so he continues quickly.

“But listen, and I hope you can understand... I want a family, I want a house and two-point-four kids and the whole white picket fence. And I'm not getting younger. And before I have figured out myself, and found my own identity, how can I be a good partner to anyone, really? If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right, and at this point, I don't think I'm able to do it right.”

“Really? That's your excuse?” Jared asks in disbelief and rubs his hand over his eyes. “Wanting commitment, but not willing to commit?”

“No, I'm not, I mean... I've lived in serious, committed relationships before. I know what I'm in for. But I'm afraid of working through all this just to disappoint you.”

“Of working through all the coming-out trouble and the being-seen-with-another-guy trouble and the whole, you know, accepting-yourself-for-who-you-are trouble. That's what you mean, right? So you’d rather seek the path of least resistance. Back to women, because I'm too much trouble. That's... that's great, really,” Jared spits angrily, then gets up to throw his clothes back on.

“Oh no, don't you dare spin this on me like that,” Jensen protests. “I said I don't want to disappoint you, because you don't deserve a partner who's not completely at peace with himself. You deserve better than me.”

“First, is that supposed to make me feel better?” Jared hisses bitterly. “And second, now you're twisting this around on me.”

For a moment, they just stare at each other in silence, both breathing heavily and trying to calm down. Jensen feels drained already, the argument making his stomach sicker than a punch to the gut.

“And what about... I mean, we're still friends, right? It’s worked all this time, hasn't it?” he asks tentatively.

“Friends who hang around with each other and fuck each other, just... without feelings?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry, but the 'without feelings' part is long since over. And I'm sure we're still friends, but I can't actually stand being around you at the moment,” Jared admits, quieter now, as he pulls up his sweat pants.

Jensen presses his lips shut, swallowing down all the ugly things he'd like to say right now, as he turns around to collect his own clothing.

When he's dressed, Jared stands a few feet away from him, arms crossed in front of his chest and a hard look in his eyes. “You want to know how I felt these last few months? Since you asked: no, I wasn't happy about it most of the time. I'm sick and tired of not being able to go out there and say 'Hey, that's my boyfriend'.”

Jensen swallows at that. “I guess I never saw how unhappy you were, and for that I'm sorry.”

That, at least, takes a bit of the wind out of Jared's sails. He deflates visibly and takes a deep breath. “Were you happy?” he asks on the exhale.

“Actually, I was. You know how that thing with Joanna ended. And I didn't look for a relationship or any attachment.”

“So you just saw me as a rebound?”

Jensen sighs. “Honestly? Never. I hope you can believe me. But the point is, I always thought there were no feelings involved here. I mean,-”

“Yeah, that's right, Jen. There are obviously no feelings whatsoever involved here,” Jared snaps sarcastically, and throws his arms up in an overacted shrug. “Because that's why we end up in each other's beds all the time. Because you're not the first guy I fucked, exclusively and on a regular basis, for years.”

“Jared, I-”

“Don't strain yourself; I get it. No feelings involved here, at least from your side. Well, good for you. Then it totally won't hurt or affect you in any way if I walk outta here right now. I expect you to be out of the house when I get back. See you at work, Jensen.”

And with that, Jared leaves, and slams the door shut in his wake.

Heaving out a long sigh, Jensen drops down on the bed and cradles his face in both hands. Did he just lose his best friend? Or worse, someone he could've possibly lived with happily for the rest of his life?

Could Jared really be more to him? Could he even be The One?

The thought leaves him feeling empty and troubled. His chest feels restrained and his heart clenches painfully; Jensen feels as if he can't breathe for a moment. He wants to take back his initial question, he wants to have Jared here, wants to hug him and be with him, and forget about this whole conversation.

And it hurts like shit to have Jared storm out of his life like this.

He doesn't want to think about the consequences of it all.



The atmosphere at work is glacial between them, and even Sam notices, but they manage to work together with a lot of professional distance.

It's hard, seeing Jared like this, crestfallen and sad. Most of the time, Jensen just wants to hug him or kiss it better. Something.

It's the Monday before the hearing, and Jensen gets thrown off his train of thought by his phone ringing.

It's Mike.

“We found the contract,” he says.

“Where was it?” Jensen asks immediately.

“In my contracts file, funny enough. And you won't believe what's printed on there.”

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