SPN RPS Fic: Maybe This 3/3 (Jared/Jensen, Jared/Chris) NC-17
Part One
Part Two
***
Jensen dreams that night. He’s onstage with Chris, just like in the old days. They’re laughing and drinking while they sing Jolene. Just as they get to the chorus, Jared walks into the bar, leans against the counter and stares at Jensen, shaking his head.
Chris leaves Jensen there. Saunters over to Jared, slips his hands under Jared’s wife beater and kisses Jared deep, pulling him in by the hair.
"Want you to fuck me," he hears Jared moan and Jensen watches as Chris pushes Jared down on the bar, pulls his jeans down and fucks him, right there. Slow and lazy, just like Jensen used to.
Jensen tries to sing the next line and nothing comes out.
He wakes up with a dry mouth and so fucking turned on that he goes straight to the bathroom and jerks off. Bites his lip and strokes himself fast and hard and perfect, with Jared’s name spilling out before he can stop himself.
When he goes back to bed, Joanna whimpers and reaches for him. Jensen can feel her against him and she feels wrong. Feels alien against his skin.
He misses Jared, misses the way he fit around Jensen’s body like he was made for it. Misses the way Jared looked when Jensen fucked him. Head thrown back, eyes wide and his bangs falling into his eyes, or plastered to his forehead with sweat.
Jensen wants Jared there with him so much it aches, and the thought of him in Chris’s bed makes Jensen’s gut clench and his head pound. Bile rises in the back of his throat.
It’s not Jared’s fault that Jensen’s so far into the closet he’s in fucking Narnia. Jensen knows that the reason he walked away from Jared has nothing to do with Jared’s chosen profession and everything to do with Jensen’s.
And isn’t he a fucking coward for that?
Jensen loves his career. Loves being an actor, especially loves all the opportunities he’s getting right now.
But if he were honest with himself? Maybe he’d admit that he loves Jared more.
***
Seeing Jensen makes everything worse. Jared hadn't meant to get caught with Chris. He hadn't expected to see Jensen again at all, or at least not so soon.
He looked good, despite the rain in his hair and sick look of betrayal on his face. Jared's more fucked in the head than before, if that's even possible.
He takes every invitation he gets, starts being reckless with himself, with his life.
He needs the distraction.
It's been a couple of weeks since his night with Chris. He's at a big Hollywood party with an out and proud former boybander, getting paid sweetly for pretending to be in love with a pretty boy who smells nice and kisses like a god. It's not a bad deal.
Until he's halfway into his second whiskey and Coke and turns his head to laugh at something his "date" said and sees Jensen waltz in with some leggy blonde Jared remembers seeing before.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Jared mutters, downing his drink and looking around wildly for a waiter.
Larry or Leon or Lance or whatever his name is raises one perfectly manicured brow. "Something I said?"
Jared turns, startled. "What? No, no, it's nothing. I'll, uh... I'll be right back. I need another drink."
Jared takes off for the bar and gets himself two more drinks, which he downs in quick succession.
He wanders back to Leonard and focuses intently on him, like he's the most interesting person Jared's ever met, though he's barely registering anything the guy says.
Jared looks over his shoulder, pretending he's not looking for Jensen. He sees him, right at the same moment Jensen looks up from his girlfriend, his eyes locking on Jared.
Jared watches the shock register, the surprise. Jensen's face goes white, like Jared's some ghost.
"Everything all right?" Lewis asks, slipping his hand around Jared's waist, his lips pressed against Jared's ear.
"What? Oh, yeah, fine. I'm great." He gives Levi a smile and pretends he believes himself.
***
An hour later, Jared stumbles blindly into the bathroom, looking for a window or black hole or something he can disappear into.
An hour of actively not watching Jensen exert public displays of heterosexuality with his busty blonde bimbo, and Jared's stomach feels tight and uneasy. Which might have more to do with the eight shots of Jack he consumed in the space of an hour. At least, maybe it was eight. He stopped counting around three.
Jared's leaning against the sink, head pressed against the mirror and eyes closed when the door opens.
It's the way his luck has been going the last few weeks that Jared knows it's Jensen without having to look up. He hears the lock click into place.
"You all right?" Jensen's voice is calm, a little stressed.
"Fine, fuck off," Jared mutters, not moving.
"Sorry, just thought I'd make sure you weren't in here drowning in your own self pity," Jensen says, voice laced with anger.
"You know what? Fuck you. What are you even doing here? Just get the fuck out. Go back to your beard."
There's a flurry of movement and Jared's being manhandled, Jensen shoving him around to face him.
"I was trying to be nice, asshole." Jared's eyes are wide open now, and Jensen's whole body is rigid with tension, hands curled into fists like he's tempted to shove them into Jared's face.
"Yeah," Jared sneers, "you're a real stand up guy." Jared slumps against the sink, thanking God it's there to hold him up. "Your girlfriend is real lucky to have a guy like you."
Jared's never claimed to be a smart guy, but somewhere in the back of his drunken brain, he knows he's going to regret letting his emotions out like this come morning.
He can barely hold himself up, he can't walk straight, and his words come out slurred and drunken, but it doesn't stop him from pushing Jensen, shoving at him to get him to do something, anything other than look at him with his lips pressed in a thin line.
"Shut up," Jensen says, color in his cheeks, eyes hard.
But Jared doesn't.
"Does your perfect little girlfriend know how hard up for dick you are?" Jared's in Jensen's face, looming over him, breath hot against his cheek.
"Shut up," Jensen says again, low and quiet. A warning, a threat.
Jared doesn't listen. "You remember that first night? The way you came on my face like a teenager, you wanted it so bad. I bet you think of me when you're with her. Yeah, I bet you close your eyes and imagine my mouth, my dirty little whore's mouth on you, sucking you hard, I bet that's the only way-" and Jared doesn't finish because Jensen snaps, breaking suddenly.
"I said, shut your mouth," Jensen says, and he's pushing Jared against the wall, the tiles cool against Jared's face, Jensen's fingers digging hard and unforgiving into Jared's hips.
Jared can feel Jensen's dick pushing against his ass, and he shudders, pushing back against him.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Jensen whispers, a hard, biting edge to his voice, breath hot against Jared's neck. "You're just a wh-" and he stops, abruptly.
"A whore?" Jared says breathlessly. "Go ahead, say it. Do it, it's what I am."
"Shut up," Jensen says instead, his fingers tangling in Jared's hair, using his hips to keep Jared pinned to the wall. Jensen yanks him by his hair, bringing Jared's head back, neck twisting painfully. Jensen's mouth is warm against Jared's cheek.
Jensen's free hand pushes in front of Jared, fingers undoing Jared's jeans. Jared's having trouble breathing, his body pressed uncomfortably against the wall, his dick hard, pushing at his jeans. Jensen's fingers are warm when they curl around Jared's dick, and Jared's got too much booze and cocaine in him to be anywhere near close, but he gasps and folds in on himself just the same, feeling everything too much, too much pressure and heat, too much Jensen.
Jared's too wasted for this, too wasted to care that in the morning, he's going to regret it all. The only thing pushing its way through the haze in his head is the way Jensen's lips feel on his jaw and the painfully familiar feeling of his fingers on him.
Jared presses his forehead to the wall as Jensen's hand slides over him, firm and hot and not at all tender.
Jared sobs, half hard and fighting it, but Jensen's still there, pressed against his ass, lips muttering filth in his ear.
"You're a good whore," Jensen breathes hotly against Jared's skin, "but you're a fucking terrible liar. I know how much you want this."
Jared bites his lip and turns, pushing his cheek against the tile. Jensen's hand moves faster, and he leans forward to press his mouth awkwardly, bruisingly hard against Jared's.
Jensen tastes like bitterness and alcohol, like pain and broken dreams, and Jared clings to it, breathes it in because he's drowning, and Jensen's all there is.
Jared's hips thrust into Jensen's hand, struggling against the orgasm building hot and fast in him, almost painful in its intensity.
"Yeah, do it, come on," Jensen whispers. It's a challenge, Jensen daring Jared to betray how much he still wants Jensen, and Jared does, spilling hot and wet over Jensen's hand, panting into it, stomach curling in on itself.
Jensen bites Jared's lower lip and pulls his hand back. He wipes it on the front of Jared's jeans with an ugly sort of sneer on his lips.
Jensen pulls away, and Jared turns around, the wall the only thing keeping him upright.
His jeans are still undone, dick half hard and hanging out. He rubs his hand over his mouth and falls to his knees, because Jensen's hard, his dick pushing up against the top of his pants, and Jared just wants, despite all of his drunken fumbling and pissed off ranting, he wants one more time to know that he can make Jensen come undone.
Jared fumbles on the zipper and Jensen pushes his hand away, does it himself, palming his dick. He shudders and smears the head of his dick over Jared's mouth, precome catching on Jared's lips. Jensen's eyes are hot on Jared's, but Jared doesn't look away. He lets Jensen use him like the whore he is, like this is all Jensen ever thought of him.
Jared opens his mouth and takes Jensen in, tongue flat and sliding down as Jared does what he does best, deep throats Jensen, swallows him down effortlessly.
Jensen tangles his fingers cruelly in Jared's hair, tight and painful, forcing him down on his cock. Jared loves it. He lets out a half moan from down deep in his belly and presses his hand to his own dick, sore but trying to get up for another go.
Jared makes Jensen come in less than five minutes, using just his mouth, sucking Jensen down. Jensen tenses and pulls away in time to come all over Jared's mouth and cheek and throat, falling sticky and warm on Jared's skin.
Jared shudders and licks his lips, while Jensen turns back to the sink to clean himself up. Jared stands on shaky legs, wipes at his face and tucks himself back in.
He looks up sharply when Jensen drops several hundred-dollar bills at his feet and unlocks the door, leaving without a look back at Jared.
***
Jared spends the rest of the evening supported by Lance, fed alcohol and blow, occasionally fondled.
Eventually he passes out on a bed in some producer's hotel suite, come from several different people drying on him.
In the morning, he wakes with a throbbing headache and no real recollection of anything but a faint memory of Jensen. There's a wad of cash on the bedside table and a note saying ‘thanks for the fun.’
Jared stumbles into the shower and when he's done, there's nothing left in his stomach but a bone-deep empty feeling that has nothing to do with food.
***
The fact of the matter is, Jensen knows he has issues. He’s got so many issues that right now a year of therapy wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how fucked in the head he is.
It’s not like it’s news or anything; he’s been that way for months now.
Jared screws him up, makes him not quite right in the head. Makes him… out of control.
He didn’t mean to treat him like he did. When Jensen saw Jared at the party, he had every intention of just ignoring him, maybe nodding and smiling, but essentially just pretending he wasn’t there. That would’ve been the simplest thing to do, best for everyone.
But he just couldn’t. Couldn’t deal with leaving it all the hell alone. Seeing Jared there, wrapped around Lance ‘Liberated and Happy’ Bass, fucking laughing and happy and just knowing that if Jensen could’ve had some fucking guts, maybe that would have been them instead. Sure, Lance was paying for the pleasure, but Jensen couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jared smile like that.
He thought maybe the coke might’ve taken his mind off it, but it just made him feel raw, like he’d been stripped completely bare for everyone to see, and Jared always does that anyway, makes him feel like that. Sometimes it’s amazing and it feels right. Not this time, though. All Jared did that night was make Jensen want to hurt him, to push his buttons just like Jared had been pushing Jensen’s. Jensen needed it then, needed to get a reaction so he could see for himself that under that tough, seen-it-all exterior, Jared was raw too.
He hadn’t intended to take it that far, but intentions don’t count for anything because he did. Jensen doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how Jared had looked when he’d come back out to the party; degraded and used and fucking broken, but masking his face with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Jensen spent the rest of the night trying not to look at him and trying not to think about the fact that he’d put that look on Jared’s face. He’d pretty much treated Jared worse than he’d probably ever been treated in his whole fucked-up life.
Jensen hadn’t meant to treat Jared like a whore, even though he was one. That wasn’t how things were supposed to go between them.
It’s not how he wanted to remember Jared, hurt and broken, but it’s his own fault. It’s imprinted in Jensen’s head now and sometimes he feels like he might choke on it.
***
The thing is, in terms of whoring, Jared just hadn't been liking the sex thing all that much. It was a chore, and he went through it in robotic motions, said and did what was expected of him while he kept his mind off of it.
And then Jensen came along and fucked everything up.
Jared regrets all of it. He feels saddest about the Chris thing, though; because he thinks if he hadn't gone headfirst off the deep end over Jensen, there might have been a chance for something good there.
Now Jared's head is good and fucked up, and he hates that he questions everything.
He goes cold turkey off the drugs, thinking he can still do the tricking without it, but the first time some fat fuck in a suit offers him some blow and five thousand dollars to fuck him face down on a cold bathroom floor, Jared takes it. Because he can't get through it without it.
But he's serious about it, serious enough that he puts the five grand in a savings account, takes stock of everything in checking and, two weeks and close to fifty grand in tricks later, he gets the hell out.
Jared doesn't want any of it anymore, and it's the only way he has a chance of flushing Jensen out of his system.
He answers an ad for three girls looking for a fourth roommate. They live in an awesome three-bedroom house in Venice Beach, and the minute they meet him, they're giggling and flirting and telling him he's perfect.
He leaves out the part about his former profession.
The girls are sweet. It comes out in the interview that he's not all that into the fairer sex and if anything, it endears him to them more.
His room is in the smallest, tucked in the back of the house with a separate entrance, but he spends most of his time in Sandy and Jenna's room.
The girls take to coming out of the bathroom in tiny towels, dripping water and grinning big. They cook breakfast in their underwear and smile sweetly at him when they need a light bulb changed or the garbage taken out.
Chad comes over in the mornings, when he's on his way home after a night out. Jared makes them eggs and toast, and they eat on the back deck. Like clockwork, Jenna always comes wandering out back to giggle and flirt and smile at Chad.
Sandy has an agent who knows someone who owes her a favor. Sandy tells him not to get his hopes up, but for the first time in a long time, he feels like something's going his way.
***
Jensen is a creature of habit. His day always starts at 5.30. He has a shower and runs just over three miles. Showers again and then hits Basix for breakfast. The food’s good there, and the eye-candy is even better. And really, in West Hollywood, what’s the point of a good restaurant without the view? He reads the paper while he waits for his omelet: egg whites and one yolk, ham, tomato and cheddar cheese, washed down with grapefruit juice, whole-wheat toast on the side.
Some days it’s too depressing to read the paper, so he’ll just stick to the comic strips and the entertainment pages, though sometimes that’s depressing in and of itself. Seeing younger, newer faces every day, getting the jobs he knows he could do in his sleep. Sometimes he feels like he’s all washed-up, like he had his big break, his shot at money and stardom and all that shit that everyone pretends they don’t care about, but they really do. He had all that and he lost it.
But then again, he’s lost a lot of things, and the TV career isn’t the one he thinks of most when he has an attack of maudlin. It doesn’t feel that important stacked up against the other things he had before.
Besides, he’s still working. He always did love theatre more anyway. It’s rewarding and demanding, but more importantly? He doesn’t have to keep up the fucking persona.
He had even started seeing someone for a few weeks. Didn’t last, he should’ve known what a fucking disaster dating another actor would be. Jensen knows his ego’s more than enough to contend with without adding another one into the mix. And man, Scott’s ego had been bigger than Texas. If Jensen was more of a bitch, he might’ve mentioned overcompensating, but truthfully, he had been glad it was over. Still, he had to admit that dating Scott, going out with him in public and not having to pretend he was his assistant or friend or hiding him away in some hotel room like a dirty fucking secret had made Jensen feel happier than he had in a long time. Made him feel honest and real, not like the biggest liar that ever lived.
He wishes he’d met Jared now, instead of when he felt like he was forced to be such a fucking coward. He never wanted Jared to be his dirty secret. He wanted so much more for them than that. It really doesn’t matter what he wants now, though, because in the end, he was the one who fucked it up, and he’s got no one to blame but himself.
He had tried calling. After about a month, he had stopped thinking about it and rehearsing in his head exactly what he was going to say to Jared and had just fucking bit the bullet. Chad had picked up and stayed on the phone long enough to tell Jensen to get lost. "Jared doesn’t need you calling him and getting him all fucked-up again, man. Just move the hell on. Go back to your girlfriend."
The next day he had called again, and Chad had hung up on him.
He had kept trying until what must have been about the fifth time, when Chad had exhaled sharply through his nose and said, "Well? I’m listening."
Jensen had just about fallen over from the shock of Chad being seemingly reasonable. He had sighed and said, "I broke up with her. With my girlfriend. It’s not real and I can’t do it anymore. Would you just tell him...I’m sorry?"
They had both been silent, except for Chad’s audible breathing on the other end.
"I’ll tell him if I see him again. He moved out. Said he needed to clear his head. You really screwed him up good, man." Chad had paused. "But I guess he screwed you up, too."
"Thanks," Jensen had said before he hung up, voice barely a whisper, Heart pounding, mouth dry and left with a feeling of complete and utter dread. He had known then that there was next to no chance he would ever see Jared again, and he had also known he had no one to blame for that but himself.
The whole situation had left him with this empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it was either throw himself into work or go into therapy. Jensen had chosen work; therapy just seemed far too LA. He might be firmly entrenched there, but he was still just a simple Texas boy when it all came down to it.
So when the job at Rubicon came up, he had taken it. It was so great to be on stage again, hearing the applause, getting that immediate sense of satisfaction that TV work never gives. Not to mention the fact that doing Shakespeare and Arthur Miller was gratifying in ways that no network show could ever be. Unless you were lucky enough to feature on Grey’s Anatomy or something similar, and after Jensen’s body of work so far, that’s about as likely as Josh Groban duetting with Linkin Park. The money sucks in comparison to what he was earning, but Jensen’s got enough put aside to be comfortable, and he never really cared about the money that much anyway. As long as he can make a living doing what he loves, he’ll be happy.
Well, as happy as he can be.
The server brings him his coffee and he goes back to the paper, reads an article about how Smallville just got renewed for another season and laughs out loud. He never would’ve thought Tom-fucking-Welling could manage to sustain a career. Jensen always imagined him going out on some bender of James Dean-like proportions.
"Seat taken?"
Jensen looks up and almost spits out his coffee. "Jesus."
"Not last time I looked."
Jared is sitting opposite him and smiling, and Jensen thinks he must be dreaming. He’s had countless ridiculous dreams like this, where Jared just happens to turn up and says all is forgiven, and there’s this sappy, romantic reunion like from some fucking Nora Ephron movie.
"You. Uh. Want coffee?"
Jared nods and steals a section of Jensen’s paper, thumbs through it and takes a couple of deep breaths. Jensen gestures to the server, who comes over and takes Jared’s order, double espresso, of course, because some things never change. Jared smiles at the guy when he gets his coffee, and Jensen’s missed this. Missed Jared’s smile so fucking much that now that Jared’s here, in front of Jensen like some fantasy, all he wants to do is stare.
Jared takes a sip and grimaces. "Man, the coffee’s gone downhill. They should fire their barista."
Jensen laughs. "You think anyone cares when the guy looks like that?"
"Well, it was better when I worked here. At least then you got good service as well as beauty."
"You worked here?"
"Oh hell, yeah. First job I had when I got to LA. I was waiting for my big break. Which, as you know, never came. This is where I met Chad and… well, y’know, this place didn’t pay the bills quite as well."
Jensen’s stomach clenches. It just feels so fucking unfair. He can’t help but wonder how differently things might have turned out if Jared had gotten that break. Jensen’s mama always told him there was no point in ‘what ifs’, told him thinking like that can drive you crazy and he’s pretty positive she was right given how crazy he’s been driving himself the last few months.
Jared looks up from the paper. "So I see Welling’s pretty much got your career now. He still securing all his wages up his nose?"
"Nah, just 95% of them. The guy likes to eat occasionally."
They both laugh, and Jensen thinks he could almost forget everything that’s happened up to this point. When Jared laughs, it’s like nothing else matters, and Jensen can imagine they’re in bed, giggling like two schoolgirls over one of Jared’s more fucked-up work stories. When Jared laughs like that, mouth wide open, head thrown back, it’s real, and it makes Jensen not care about what Jared does to earn his cash, because when it all comes down to it, that’s a job, it’s not fucking real and really, it’s not that different from being an actor.
Jensen thinks if he’ll believe that, he’ll believe anything.
"So. You…" Jensen swallows. "You still a hooker?"
"Smooth." Jared purses his lips and drums his fingers on the table, "Actually, I quit." He takes a long pause and finishes his cup of coffee. "You still an asshole closet-case?"
Jensen puts his hand on top of Jared’s. Only to stop the annoying rhythm that his fingers are making on the hardwood table.
Sure. Right.
Jared’s hand feels cold, and Jensen grips it, fights back the impulse to do anything else, because he’s sure Jared will probably punch him if he does.
"Trying really hard not to be anymore, Jared. I’m…"
"I know." Jared looks away. "I know you are and if you say you’re fucking sorry one more time, Jen, I swear to God, I’ll deck you."
"Okay. Fair enough." Jensen can’t help but think about the last time he apologized to Jared; well, to his face, anyway, and he knows that’s why Jared doesn’t want to hear any more. Apologies have always been easy for Jensen, falling far too easily from his lips, and they’re just words. Words he meant, as it happened, but he knows that words weren’t enough to repair what he did then, and they’re sure as hell not going to help now.
"It’s just…" Jared starts to pull his hand away from Jensen, slowly. "You weren’t exactly the only asshole, Jensen. We both screwed up, y’know?"
Jensen shakes his head and laces his fingers in Jared’s, before Jared can break free from his grasp completely, unable to let go.
"Yeah, we did. We both screwed up, Jen. First of all I screwed up by changing my mind halfway through about what this…" Jared pauses, and Jensen can see him thinking, choosing his words carefully, like he’s afraid he might break something if he chooses the wrong ones. It’s vulnerable and human, and it makes Jensen want to reach right across the table and kiss him so hard Jared will stop thinking altogether. "What us meant. I didn’t give you a chance to even think about what a relationship with someone like me really entails. Then when you couldn’t handle it, I picked up your best friend and went home with him. Let’s face it, Jensen, I could hold a lecture series in ‘Self-Destructive Break-Up Techniques’."
"I never stopped thinking about you, Jared. Not once."
"Yeah, Chad said you called every week like clockwork. Stalking, huh, Jensen? I’m kinda flattered." Jared smiles, but there’s something sad behind the smile, behind his eyes right now. Something like regret.
"Would’ve called every day if I didn’t think your protector would answer every fucking time. He’s a good friend, I guess."
"Yeah. He is." Jared smiles, "He’s kinda your advocate now too, which is scary. Told me to come back home and ‘sort your jilted girlfriend out’."
Jensen smiles. "I quit television, Jared. Partly because of you, but mostly because of me. I just couldn’t do it anymore, not after… I’m real glad you’re not hooking anymore." He sees the look that starts washing over Jared’s face when he says that, and Jensen shakes his head. "Not for the reasons you think. I’m glad for you, man. Me? It wouldn’t have mattered if you were doing it still. Not anymore. You’re all I think about and I don’t care about anything anymore except having you here with me."
Jensen takes a breath, searches Jared’s face for some kind of sign that this is all sinking in and he’s not wasting his time here. "Please tell me I’m wrong, if I am, but I think you feel the same way, because otherwise you wouldn’t have tracked me down."
"It wasn’t that hard." Jared’s mouth twitches into a grin, "I could've predicted you’d end up here. West Hollywood with twinks serving you a low-fat, high protein breakfast."
He pauses. "But you’re right, Jen. I’ve never stopped thinking about you, either. I’m still… I need to know that you can handle it. Us. I can’t deal with the bullshit, with you struggling with your sexuality, because Jensen? You are really fucking gay."
Jensen laughs and reaches across the table. Gets one hand on the back of Jared’s neck and pulls him in, brushes his lips over Jared’s, and then they’re kissing and it’s like the last few months disappear, like it doesn’t matter whose fucking fault it was, because Jared’s mouth is warm and open and perfect, just like it always was, and they fit. They just do and it’s familiar, but it’s different too. Like they’re kissing for no other reason than they want to. There’s no urgency about it; it’s warm and slow and tender, like they have all the time in the world.
Jared pulls away first, rubs at his bottom lip with his thumb and grins sheepishly.
"I guess that’s a yes, then."
Jensen nods. Jared stands, moves across to Jensen and sits down next to him.
Jared kisses him again, and this time, there’s nothing soft or slow or careful about it. It’s frantic and desperate and god, so hot. Jensen can feel Jared’s tongue moving inside his mouth, sucking on Jensen’s tongue, the barest scraping of teeth, and Jared holds Jensen’s face in his hands, firm and possessive, before he pulls away.
"Jesus." Jensen sits there, panting, trying to get his breathing back under control, which isn’t particularly easy when Jared is sitting right next to him, pressed up against him like that, hard and warm.
"You keep calling me that. I mean, I know I got an ego, man, but that’s taking it a little far."
"You. What the hell was that?"
Jared grins so hard that Jensen thinks his face might just crack if he keeps it up for too long. "I figure we’ve wasted enough time. Screw the getting to know each other again crap. I mean, I have had almost everything of yours up my ass, so…"
"You are all class, Jared."
Jared nods his head in mock-appreciation. "Thank you. Glad you think so. Anyway, besides all that, I never could resist you in those damn glasses."
Jensen laughs and it feels good. It feels natural and human and normal, and he knows that he and Jared have a lot of catching up to do. Not to mention actually getting to know each other without any kind of weird pressure hanging over their heads. Jensen’s not Jared’s client anymore and Jared’s not the dirty little secret that Jensen’s paying for.
And no, it’s not a fairytale, and that’s okay. When it all comes down to it, despite who they were before and who they are now, they’re just two normal guys. Well, Jensen thinks, maybe the normal is debatable, but what the hell is normal in this town, anyway?
Maybe this is as normal as it gets.
the end
Followed by Trouble Is