All the Way Home (4 of 4)
part three | master post
four
Jensen’s return to Dallas feels a lot like going from zero to sixty in under four seconds. Between the move and work and reconnecting with his family, there’s not much time to take a breath, much less sleep or have anything akin to a social life.
The city is overwhelming at first, too loud and too crowded. But it's not long before it feels like home again, before he feels its electricity seeping back into his veins. Jensen enjoys being able to walk out of his modern high-rise directly into the noisy bustle of the city. He likes walking down sidewalks full of people in a hurry, going to coffee shops and bookstores, and, yes, having food delivered right to his door. He doesn’t even mind the traffic.
Given the circumstances surrounding his departure, calls to old colleagues could be awkward. Jeff eases the situation by flying in to join Jensen and Samantha Ferris for an informal lunch meeting to kick-start possible negotiations with OCOA. In Jeff's easy style, they don't talk much business. It's clear Samantha has his number, but she goes along with the chit-chat, flirting with Jeff and taking the opportunity to tease Jensen as much as possible.
They're a few drinks in before she gleefully recounts her last encounter with Jensen, "and his condom." Jensen plays along with a tight smile, immediately raising his empty glass and catching the server's eye, figuring if this doesn’t call for considerably more alcohol, nothing does. Not that he can fault her. If he were in Samantha's shoes, he’d be dining out on that story for years.
It turns out to be worth the cringing embarrassment and the cost of the extra cocktails when she agrees to schedule a high-level meeting for him at OCOA. Jensen leaves the lunch with a pleasant buzz, a wry grin, and facing the real possibility that he's about to have a huge win with the company he left under truly humiliating circumstances.
Mackenzie lives in the city now, and he spends more time with her than he has since they were kids. They meet at the coffee shop across from his building a couple of times a week and Jensen marvels at how easy it is to see her as the successful woman she's become rather than the bratty little sister of his memories.
She goes with him to Richardson to help their mother sort through the stuff from the ranch. Mom gets weepy over it and holds Jensen tight in a rare show of emotion. "Thanks for taking care of the ranch and sorting everything," she says. "I don't know if I ever could have faced it."
The relationship with his father is strained, but Jensen finds he’s more patient than he used to be with the man's outdated views, more willing to wait him out and do his part to mend fences. It's slow-going, and he’s too busy to devote enough time to it, but there’s progress, and maybe that's all he can ask.
Jensen returns to the ranch every few weeks to ensure things are running smoothly. When he stays overnight, he crashes at a hotel in Dumas, never the house. It's closed up tight, cleared of furniture, utilities shut down. A cleaning service shows up once a month to dust and check for mildew or termite damage. Jensen can't even bear to open the door, much less spend any time there. Maybe it would have been better to have it demolished instead of leaving it as an empty shell for reasons he doesn’t really want to face.
Jensen does manage at least one good home-cooked meal at Jim Beaver's house with almost every trip home, but he avoids Chris and Jeannie.
________
There's a barista at the coffee shop with a badge pinned to his apron that says "Hi, My Name is Greg!" Greg has dark blue highlights and a silver hoop lip ring; Jensen thinks he may be a little too old for that but it's kind of hot, and he's still in graduate school, so maybe he gets a pass. They flirt some and Mac thinks Jensen should definitely "hit that."
"That's creepy as hell coming from you, thanks," Jensen tells her, but all signs point to an easy yes so he asks Greg if he'd like to go to the opening of the Dalí exhibit. Greg's ‘yes’ is maybe a little eager, but Jensen figures that was the point of asking him in the first place, so he smiles and offers to pick him up like a real, old-fashioned date.
It's nice. Greg is nice. He's in his mid-twenties, which seems younger to Jensen than it used to, but the exhibit is a good icebreaker and they don't lack for conversation. Jensen drives him home and ends the night with a chaste kiss. Date number two is a walk through the park to a little outdoor café Greg likes. It ends with a better, sloppier kiss and a clear invitation from Greg for more. Jensen says he's ‘not that kind of girl’ and leaves feeling good about his restraint.
After the third date, dinner and a movie, Jensen brings Greg home to his spacious high-rise condo with its floor-to-ceiling windows and panoramic view of the city. He works all his best moves and has Greg naked and flat on his back in less than thirty minutes. There's nothing unappealing about the situation. Greg is cute and interesting and a good time between the sheets. Jensen offers to drive him home afterward rather than asking him to stay. If Greg's a little disappointed, he doesn't make a big deal of it. He calls a cab instead and lets Jensen walk him to the elevator.
Jensen returns alone and turns out the lights. He stands at the window to watch the full moon rise, big and bright over the urban skyline, presses his forehead against the glass, and wonders what Jared’s doing.
________
When he sees Greg at the coffee shop later in the week, Jensen pulls him aside to say he's not up for anything serious, but he hopes they can be friends. It doesn't come as a surprise to the other man, who takes it with good grace but is honest enough to say, "We weren't really friends to begin with, I don't see why we should start now," and offers Jensen a cup of his usual plain black coffee, on the house.
There's no single moment of revelation when Jensen thinks, I shouldn't have let Jared go, but it occurs to him more and more. It’s what he thinks when he hears a bad pun or orders take-out, when he finds himself memorizing trivial little facts from the History Channel and hears Jared's voice inside his head, ‘Thank you for the history lesson, Encyclopedia Brown.’
When he goes back to the ranch, to the hundreds of turbines that rotate in the wind like pinwheels, planted there through his own efforts, and avoids the home he loves like it's a haunted thing, he thinks of Jared - milking Delilah, bottle-feeding Beulah's calf, laughing with (and at) Jensen for a hundred different reasons, large and small.
One day, this low, uneasy throb of loss will fade; people let go and move on all the time. Jensen has almost convinced himself of that when he walks into his apartment after a long day and flips through his mail to find a postcard that's been forwarded from the ranch.
The front is tacky and colorful, with blocky swooping letters that proclaim: Greetings from Brooklyn! His fingers tremble, just a little, as he turns it over to read.
Hi Boss. Told you I'd check in so...I'm working the door at a club. City's great. I spend a lot of time walking around. Doesn't feel like home the way the ranch did. Sometimes wish you were here to see it with me.
Love, Jared
It's like a punch to the gut, but Jensen's not sure he could pinpoint one reason why. Just seeing Jared's handwriting, taking up half the postcard and spilling over into the address block, getting a sense, no matter how small, of what Jared's life is like. Love, Jared. That's just how people sign things, a general term of endearment. And they had that, didn't they?
He reads it two more times before he notices that the postmark is over three weeks old. There's no return address, but Jensen doesn't need one really. It would be easy enough to call Jared's cell, but he can’t imagine how awkward a phone conversation that might be, or what he'd want out of it.
Jensen places the postcard in the nightstand next to his bed over a picture he printed off his computer not long ago. In it, he and Jared stand together; Jared's arm is flung casually around Jensen's shoulders while Jensen leans against him, his hand resting on Jared's chest. They're smiling big and stupid, like they don't even know it's time to let go, with a field of pinwheels all around them.
________
Jensen has several meetings the next morning, all in anticipation of closing the OCOA deal. Lately, he spends so much time with lawyers and their endless contracts he almost misses the cows. They're at a critical stage in the negotiations that demands a lot of time and attention; Jeff's shown a lot of trust by leaving it in Jensen's hands.
He's scrolling through his Blackberry for messages and wondering if he should butter up Welling with a golf game later in the week when he sees the elevator doors start to close ahead of him. He rushes through in a sprint, calling out, "Hold that, please."
Jensen looks up to thank the person who held the door only to have the words die on his lips when he sees who it is.
"Paul."
"Jensen?"
Isn't that just perfect? Jensen moves to the corner of the elevator that will put the most distance between them and turns to face the doors. It's been almost two years.
"What are you doing here?" Paul asks. His voice is strained, and he studiously watches the numbers tick down as the elevator descends.
"Meeting. I'm working a deal with OCOA. Clean energy now." Jensen thinks he might sound a little special with his choppy sentences and unfocused mumbling. He joins Paul in watching the elevator display.
"Yeah, I heard you were back in town."
"You did?"
That earns him a sideways glance. "We knew a lot of the same people for a long time, Jensen."
"That makes sense." Jensen rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I just didn't, you know…"
"You didn't think about it."
"No." The elevator moves so slowly, he wonders if it’s hand-operated or something. The display says they're at floor eleven and on the decline. Jensen finally continues half-heartedly. "So, what brings you here?"
"I had a deposition in the building."
Jensen hears a voice in his head telling him he needs to sack up and say something that means something. He thinks it might be his grandfather's, but he can't imagine the old man ever saying the words sack up, so maybe it's his own voice. Who knows, anymore? They make it to the lobby and step out of the elevator.
"It was nice seeing you again," Paul says, sounding more polite than sincere, as he turns to walk away.
Jensen rolls his eyes and walks after him. "Would you like to get some lunch?" His overloud voice echoes through the lobby and Paul looks back at him like he's grown a second head.
"Lunch?"
"Yeah, I think this building has a cafeteria. Just, you know, a bite."
Paul nods slowly, looks around and back at Jensen. "Sure, why not?"
They grab a couple of deli sandwiches and some chips and head to the outdoor courtyard. Paul nods toward the smoking area but Jensen shakes his head.
"Gave the things up," he says. "Finally."
"That's great. How'd you manage it?"
"I don't know." Jensen shrugs. "Just cut back slowly. Only threw them away for good a few months ago, right before I left the ranch."
"Still can't picture you as a rancher." Paul’s tone is teasing, but not unkind.
"There were days I couldn't either," Jensen says. "Even as I was knee deep in cow shit."
Paul looks down at his sandwich and makes a face. "Lovely."
"Sorry. I guess cow shit isn't appropriate lunch conversation."
That gets a smile, the kind that crinkles the skin around Paul's eyes, and Jensen feels a small pang of loss over what they had, how many times he's seen that smile without hard feelings or years of regret attached.
They fall into awkward silence while they eat their lunch and Jensen tries to think of what to say. After months of obsessing at the end of their relationship, he's finally returned to Dallas without sparing much thought for Paul or how a conversation between them might go. Suddenly, he's back in that place where he feels like the worst asshole in the world, so he figures maybe he'll start with that.
"I, um." Jensen stops and Paul looks at him. "When everything came out, when you found out the truth," Jensen says, finally, "I said I was sorry."
Paul nods, sets down what remains of his sandwich and settles back. His expression’s guarded, like he's not sure what Jensen's going to say next but is trying hard to be prepared for anything. There may be a flash of anger, too. Jensen can read sorry wasn't good enough quite plainly in his eyes, though Paul doesn't say it.
"But it wasn't good enough," Jensen says, beating him to the punch. "I know that. It was the heat of the moment and I was trying to get my way, argue you into forgiving me."
"You weren't really sorry."
"Right." Jensen nods. "Well, I thought I was at the time, but I was just sorry I got caught."
Paul purses his lips and watches Jensen expectantly - if there's more, his expression says, he’s ready to hear it.
Jensen clears his throat. "Anyway, I thought about it a lot and I don't expect your forgiveness," he continues. "I know I'm lucky you agreed to talk to me at all. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I'm really sorry that I cheated on you. You didn't deserve that, nobody does. I was fucked up and wrong and I'm sorry."
Paul holds his gaze for a beat before looking down at the table. He works his jaw and doesn't say anything for so long Jensen's not sure if he should start timing it or just walk away. He chooses to sit there and take a taste of his medicine. Paul deserves an opportunity to give him hell if he wants to.
"I appreciate that," Paul says, finally, his voice low. "I don't think I’m ready to forgive you, or if I ever can, but I believe you. It means a lot."
Jensen nods. Forgiveness would be ideal, but Paul's more gracious than he had a right to expect.
In hopes of easing the moment, maybe even getting a laugh, Jensen asks, "So, you seeing anybody?"
It has the desired effect. Paul leans back and grins at him. "Yes, you ballsy bastard, I am seeing somebody."
"Yeah, he treating you right?"
"I think the question is if I'm treating him right." Paul balls up the sandwich wrapper on his tray as he speaks. "It might surprise you to learn I have some trust issues that are hard on a new relationship."
Jensen grimaces. "Yeah, sorry about that."
Paul waves it off. "Stop beating yourself up. I mean, don't. Go ahead and beat yourself up forever if you want to but everything that went wrong wasn't your fault."
"No?"
"From the first time you cheated on me to the end - that was all on you."
It’s almost a relief to have it verified.
"But the relationship wasn't this perfect thing we liked to pretend it was. I think I took on the project of training you to be a perfect boyfriend a little too much to heart in the beginning."
"I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"I didn't mean to, Jensen, but I changed you - or the relationship did, I guess." Paul narrows his eyes, clearly focused on choosing his words. "I thought being boyfriends - partners - meant that we were supposed to change for each other, especially you, with your lifestyle at the time. And I think you wanted me to, or you wouldn't have gone along."
"You're right. I wouldn't have," Jensen says. "Whatever changes I made aren’t on you."
Paul leans forward and in his eyes there's sympathy Jensen didn't think he'd ever see, isn't sure he wants from Paul. It's too close to pity for comfort.
"You ditched your friends," Paul says. "You stopped going out. Some of it was work, but some of it was for fondue nights and trips to the dog park. I wish one of us would have realized it before you lost your mind and started fucking other men, but we didn't. That much is on both of us. Everything after is on you."
Jensen doesn't really buy it. He was a grown man and he could have talked it out, spent more time with his own friends, done a million things differently that didn't end in cheating. But if Paul needs to own any part of his own issues to move on, then Jensen understands that, too. "Thanks for that," he says.
When they stand to leave, Jensen knows this is it. It isn't the start of a new friendship; it very explicitly isn't forgiveness or reconciliation. It's goodbye.
"What about you," Paul says before they go their separate ways, "You with anyone or are you still spreading the love?"
Jensen gives the question serious consideration, and he realizes as he searches his heart for the answer that even though he's alone, he's not single.
"There's somebody."
"He in Dallas?"
"No, not right now. Maybe someday."
"Good luck, man," Paul says. They part with a handshake and Jensen leaves for his next meeting with a lot more than business on his mind.
________
They close the deal with OCOA a week later. It goes better than expected and Jeff's riding high. Jensen drives him to the airport in bumper to bumper traffic, a little concerned Jeff won’t make his flight back to Lubbock. Jeff doesn't seem worried.
"That deal, Jensen?" He crows. "That's early retirement. In the Bahamas."
Jensen eases the car into the next lane and shoots Jeff a doubtful look. "I don't know about all that."
"You're going to see a huge commission off this, man." Jeff pats his knee. "Couldn't have done it without you."
"It felt good." Jensen can hear the monotone of his voice, the contrast of his own low grade excitement compared to Jeff's.
"Came back, kicked ass," Jeff says. "It's gotta feel amazing."
"That it does."
"You'd make a terrible actor, boy." Jeff shakes his head. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
The highway’s like a parking lot. Jensen rolls his neck and slouches in his seat, taps out a beat with his fingers on the steering wheel. "What? Nothing. I'm great. I'm looking at millionaire great, right?"
"Now who’s getting ahead of himself?" Jeff asks. "But, yeah, I think you're looking at millions, maybe not tomorrow but you'll get there if you stick with me."
"If?" Jensen makes a point of catching Jeff’s eye. "I told you I'd stick around. Nothing's changed."
"I know. I believe you." Jeff takes a greater than normal interest in the traffic around him and exhales a low chuckle before continuing. "Listen, maybe it's nothing, but I want to put this out there. If you're not happy, Jensen, we can work something else out."
"I'm fine," Jensen says, perplexed. "I just closed the deal of the century, didn't I?"
"The century, huh?"
"It's early, yet."
"Maybe, maybe," Jeff says. "I guess that's why it's a little strange that you're so fucking miserable."
"I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine," Jensen repeats. "Really."
Jeff sighs, throws his head back and laughs; he mumbles something under his breath that sounds like 'I can't believe I'm doing this'.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Jeff's voice booms in the car. "Just go after him."
"What?"
"Jared. Just go. Find him and, I don't know, claim your man."
Jensen laughs at that, and Jeff does too, like he can't believe he just uttered the line. But he doesn't take it back.
"It's not that easy," Jensen says.
"Why not?"
"For one thing, he's in New York and my business is in Texas, in case you hadn’t noticed."
"And I'm telling you," Jeff says, "not to worry about business."
"I said I wouldn't run out on you, and I won't." Jensen is clear on that, means it with everything he's got. But it's not even half the story, and he admits as much. "Besides, it doesn't matter. That's not how it was. Jared and I left things in a good place; it was time to move on and we did."
"You really believe that?"
"I believed it."
"'Believed,' past tense," Jeff says like he’s proven a point. "I spent one day with the two of you together and I knew better then than you do now."
"He's happy in New York."
"You heard from him?"
"Just a postcard," Jensen admits. "It came last week."
"That's why you've looked like you’re sucking on a lemon since I got here."
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"Nothing. I'm sorry." Jeff goes quiet and Jensen thinks he might relent, but it doesn’t hold long. "I just want to say this, okay? Then I’ll shut up about it."
"Fine. Go ahead."
"You've already fulfilled whatever obligation you had to me," Jeff says. "I'd love to work with you for as long as you want, but you don't need to be in Dallas for that. You're a partner. You can make your living from wherever you decide to hang your hat."
Traffic moves, but it's still at a crawl. Jensen looks to Jeff as he inches the car forward. "If you want to take off," Jeff continues, "Go for it. You won't be letting me down. But I'm telling you this, and I don't want to sound like your daddy or your goddamn guidance counselor, but, right now, you're letting yourself down. And you're letting him down."
"Go get my man?" Jensen mutters. It's barely even a question.
"Fuck yeah, get your man." Jeff laughs, the big, genuine laugh of his that always makes Jensen smile. Suddenly, traffic opens up and he's speeding down the highway, thinking Jeff might just make his flight after all.
________
That night, Jensen sits on the edge of his bed and rereads the postcard from Jared. He usually has the TV on, or music, anything for some background noise. But he sits in near silence, with only the distant sound of the street below for company, and reads Jared's blocky script on the postcard, again and again, like he can divine something from it if he concentrates hard enough.
He's going to call Jared; that much he decided in the car with Jeff. There was part of him that wanted to book a flight to LaGuardia and go to Jared right away, but he doesn't have an address and, despite Jeff's words, his business obligations will tie him to Dallas for at least the next week.
Jensen exchanges the postcard for his phone and stares at it a while, wondering what the hell he's going to say when Jared picks up. It seems like maybe Jared misses him, seems certain, but he wrote those words over a month ago, and that could have changed. Maybe he didn't mean it with any seriousness, didn't intend for his words to stick at Jensen like they do.
What he's fighting, more than anything, is the prospect of rejection. As soon as he figures that out, Jensen scrolls through his contacts to pull up Jared's name. He hasn't gone through as much as he has to punk out now just because Jared might turn him down.
Since they parted, Jensen’s scrolled by Jared's number on his contact list more than once or twice. This time, he hits send and listens to it ring until - fuck.
An electronic voice answers and impersonally intones, "We're sorry. The number you dialed has been disconnected. If you believe you have reached this number in error, please hang up and try again."
He knows the number's right, but he disconnects and tries again. It doesn't change the outcome. Jensen falls back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. That's a sign if he's ever come across one, and it doesn’t say "go." Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s run a red light.
________
Over the course of the next week, Jensen works fourteen hour days and thinks of ways to track down Jared. There's no lack of options, from looking up his parents' number in San Antonio to hiring a private investigator in New York, but he quickly decides his best bet is Jeannie. If he knows anything about Jared's cousin, it's that he'd best talk to her in person if he wants to gain any traction, and if Jared doesn't want to see him, she won't make any bones about giving Jensen the bad news. If that is the case, if Jared has moved on...well, Jensen's not so sure he won't hunt him down anyway.
When there’s finally a break in his schedule, Jensen takes the next flight to Amarillo and drives the hour to Dumas. It’s already dark by the time he checks into his usual drab hotel, so he calls it an early night and sleeps better than he has in a while. The next morning, he rises early, too, and heads out to the Kanes'.
Chris and Jeannie have made some obvious improvements to their farm with the extra money coming in from the turbine leases; Jensen notices a fresh coat of paint on the fences and an add-on to the barn right away. When he steps out of the rental car, Chris is already walking over to meet him.
"Fancy seeing you here." His tone is mild, as always, but vaguely accusing. They're his only clients in the area Jensen hasn't checked in on since the move.
"Sorry about that. Things have been busy."
"Guess so." Chris’s expression is hard and a little suspicious, but he shrugs as he turns toward the house. "Come on in and say hi to Jeannie."
Jeannie's no more thrilled with the disappearing act than Chris is and tells him so immediately. She also offers him a strong cup of coffee and some breakfast if he wants it. Jensen says yes to the coffee, no thanks to the breakfast, and settles down next to Chris at the small kitchen table.
Gemma's riding her mama's hip, staring at Jensen like she ought to know him from somewhere. She has Jared's eyes and Jensen finds himself smiling at her in that stupid big-grinned way people reserve for babies and pets.
"You here about the turbines?" Chris asks.
"Not unless you're having problems."
"No, everything's smooth. That's a good crew you guys hired."
Jeannie joins them. She's balancing the baby, two cups of coffee, and a bottle, and making it look easier than it should.
"Wish you'd let me help with that," Chris says.
"I've got it."
Chris rolls his eyes and slides Jensen's mug over to him. It sounds like an exchange they’ve had one or two - or a hundred - times, and Jensen knows well enough to stay out of it.
"Jensen's not here to talk about the wind leases." Jeannie sits next to Chris and adjusts Gemma in her lap to pop the bottle in her mouth.
"Sounds like my wife's got your number."
Jensen dips his head and gazes up at Jeannie through his lashes; it’s a gesture that usually gets him what he wants. "How much crow do I need to eat?"
Jeannie’s lips quirk and she shakes her head like she doesn't appreciate being amused. "I'm going to go easy on you because I already unloaded most of my artillery on Jared."
"How is he?"
"He's all right," she replies. "Still going to meetings, staying clean, if that's what you're wondering."
Jensen nods. He probably should be concerned about Jared's sobriety, but it hadn't much crossed his mind. For some reason, he just assumes Jared has that part of his life under control. It’s probably a dangerous and foolish assumption, but he's glad to know that, so far at least, it's the right one.
"I just want his number," Jensen says. "But if you could tell me why he changed it, it might give me an idea of where I stand."
Chris grins. "Damn fool got it stolen and decided to switch it out for a New York number when he replaced it."
"Christian Kane," Jeannie says, "that's my cousin you're talking about and if anybody calls him a damn fool it's going to be me."
"So the fact that he changed his number without letting me know probably answers one question." Jensen cringes at how plain the disappointment is in his own voice.
"If you mean that he didn't want to hear from you," Jeannie says, "that's where the damn fool part comes in. When he switched the phone out, he was thinking he needed a clean break. Who knows what goes on in that man's head? Of course, he regretted it almost immediately. I told him that he still had your number, and anyway, if you wanted to find him, you would."
"I do."
"It's about time." She rolls her eyes and runs a hand over Gemma's wispy hair. "Men," she tells her daughter, like she's imparting her first word of wisdom. Gemma spits out the bottle and snuggles against her.
"I can fly to New York this afternoon if you tell me where to find him."
Chris and Jeannie both stare at him, slack jawed and blank-faced, before their faces rearrange themselves into matching grins and they laugh right in his face. It's damn irritating.
Jeannie’s laughter is slow to die. "He's not in New York," she finally says. "I don't know why I thought you would know that. He left a few weeks ago, not long after the thing with the phone."
Jensen leans forward. "Where did he go?"
"You sure you want to know?"
"I've never been this sure of anything," Jensen says. "Tell me where he is and I'll go to him. I don't care if he's in Alaska or the Great Barrier Reef. "
Chris stands and tweaks his daughter's nose before he heads to the coffee pot to pour another cup. "Lord, save us from fools and hopeless romantics," he says.
"Will you listen to him?" Jeannie points back to her husband. "He didn’t even know Jared was gay until I told him last year. He was fit to be tied when I filled him in on you two's relationship after the auction."
Chris looks affronted. "Excuse me if my mind doesn’t automatically go to the gay place."
If Jensen was in a different mindset, he might be amused; as it is, he barely takes notice. Instead, he watches Jeannie like he can pull Jared’s location straight from her brain if he just stares hard enough.
She lets him stew for a minute before reaching over to pat his hand. "He's working at a dude ranch about an hour out of Dallas."
"I think they prefer 'guest ranch,'" Chris calls over.
"It's a dude ranch," Jeannie says. "And I've gotta say, the only person I've ever met more stupid than you is Jared fucking Padalecki. Pardon my French."
"He's right outside of Dallas and he didn't call me?"
"Don't get riled, Jensen. He said he sent you a postcard weeks ago and didn't hear back." She shifts the now sleeping Gemma on her lap and exhales a long, heavy breath that ruffles her bangs, a habit so reminiscent of Jared, Jensen has to close his eyes against the sense-memory. "I don't pretend to understand, but he decided to come back anyway. He's been there a couple of weeks, just too chicken-shit to call you, I guess."
"Jesus." Jensen doesn’t know what else to say.
"You should have told him before he left if you wanted him to stay."
"I didn't know," Jensen admits. "I didn’t even think of it as an option, I guess."
"Well, now you know. And assuming one of you can get your head out of your ass long enough to make a move, which is a big assumption, you can do something about it."
Chris returns to the table. "Consider his head surgically removed and give him Jared's address, woman."
"Fine," Jeannie says, handing the baby to her daddy and heading to the counter for her address book. "But let the record show, I wanted to make you sweat it out a little longer. It's Christian who went soft."
________
On his way to the Amarillo airport, and while he waits two and a half hours for the next available flight, and during the short time he's in the air, then on the tarmac back in Dallas, Jensen counts down the hours and minutes between him and The Wildlands Guest Ranch that sits forty-five miles north of Dallas-Fort Worth. And on the drive from the airport to the ranch, he wonders what the hell he's going to say when he gets there.
Jensen knows he's persuasive; he'll figure something out. Jeannie's all but assured him Jared wants to be with him, too. But, goddamn it, Jared's been so close for two weeks and not even a call. That’s some Junior High bullshit.
It's been nearly a year since they met, over four months since they parted, and things have changed so much since that Jensen can't be sure what he’ll find. Still, he's more anxious to see Jared than worried over the outcome. If he can just talk to him, touch him, look into those eyes one more time, it will have been worth it - every stupid moment they've been apart and the months it took him to figure out they should be together.
The sun has started to set at his left when Jensen sees the first sign for The Wildlands. It’s the picture perfect Texas dude ranch. Jensen pulled up their website while he waited in the airport, so he knows that it sits on a thousand acres of rolling hills with a river flowing through that's ideal for fishing and kayaking. According to Jeannie, Jared works at the stables and guides guests along the ranch’s trails on horseback. Jensen thinks it suits him better than working the door at a club in New York or serving drinks at Chippendales in Las Vegas.
The girl at the front desk seems utterly disinterested when Jensen asks where he might find Jared Padalecki; she doesn’t so much as spare a glance from her computer screen when she points him to the stables. Jensen heads to the outdoor walkway that's going to lead him to Jared and tries to steady his nerves.
He has to stop in his tracks to catch his breath when he rounds the side of the building and sees Jared out by the paddock. He's alone, save one old spotted mare lazily circling the enclosure. Jensen straightens his spine, determination setting his stride, and walks over. He doesn't make himself known until he's only a few feet away.
"Jared."
It takes so long for a response, Jensen almost repeats himself, but then Jared dips his head, squares his shoulders, and turns toward him. Jensen can't stifle the grin he feels spread across his face. There's a beat, barely a second, and Jared moves forward to grab him in a tight hug that lifts Jensen a good inch off the ground.
"How'd you know I was here?" The words are mumbled into his shoulder and Jensen has to disengage himself by degrees to answer or lose his breath altogether under Jared's assault.
"Jeannie," he says. "Should have come from you."
Jared lets go and backs off a step, looks over toward the guest house, and nods. "Yeah, I was gonna call. I was working up the nerve, I guess."
"I know a little something about that."
Jensen lets his gaze slide over Jared; there's a lot to take in. He looks good, tan and healthy, same old Jared, ridiculous hair and eyes lit up from somewhere deep inside. He wants to pull him in again and just inhale.
Jared shuffles his feet and runs his fingers through his hair, all high strung nerves like the first time they met. "Let's go for a walk," he says.
Jensen nods his agreement and follows down a short, well-trodden path that leads to a bluff overlooking miles of rolling hills. The land is greener here than it is back home, gentler in a way than what he's used to.
They stop at a quiet, isolated spot, all muted shadows in the soft purple of dusk. Jared stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at Jensen. "So, here we are."
"Here we are," Jensen agrees.
"Listen, I'm sor-"
Jensen doesn't want to hear it, so he cuts Jared off with a kiss, rushes him and puts his arms around him, and presses their mouths together like he's been wanting to for weeks. Jared gets with the program immediately, opens his mouth to Jensen's, bending into it and holding on. It's Jensen who finally breaks contact, pulling back to bring his hand up between them, settling it over Jared's chest.
"Guess that still works." Jensen exhales the words on a stuttered laugh.
"Was there a doubt?"
"I guess I wasn't sure you'd be into it."
Jared scrubs a hand over his face. "Is this the part where we talk?"
"I'm afraid so," Jensen says. "But, with your cooperation, I hope to get to the fun part right after."
Taking Jensen’s wrist in a loose grip, Jared leads them farther down the path, through a small copse of trees to a wood railing obviously built for hikers to lean against while they enjoy the view. Old horses sent to pasture dot the fields below. A cool breeze picks up, but Jensen's too intent on what he needs to say to register the chill.
"I got your postcard."
"Yeah?" Jared looks at his feet.
"It took a few weeks to make it to me. I spent a while after that convincing myself it didn't mean anything. Hell, I'm still not sure it did."
"It did. It does."
Jensen leans against the railing and shakes his head. "You know, as much as I hate to admit it, Jeannie probably has a point about us."
"Don't tell her that." There’s something akin to horror in Jared's voice. "We'll never live it down."
"Why didn't you call me when you first got here?" Jensen’s so ready to move forward, he’s not sure how much he really cares about the answer. It’s mostly idle curiosity at this point, but Jared takes it at face value.
"I wasn't sure if I should. I don't know." The smile he throws Jensen doesn't reach his eyes, and when he finally speaks, Jared’s voice is smaller than it ever should be, almost confessional. "You have this amazing life. You're educated and successful. And I’m…"
Jensen opens his mouth to interrupt but Jared stops him with a look. "I'm an ex-junkie with a record who can't keep a job, or stay put, for longer than six months."
"Jared, that's not how I see you at all."
"I know you didn't, not when we were together. But that was...hell, I don’t even know what that was. It was almost too perfect."
Jensen nods and lets Jared continue without further interruption. "I thought maybe you'd see me differently with some distance," Jared says. "See me for what I am."
"I do. You're amazing. You have this, I don’t know, this gift for life. Maybe you are as messed up as you think, but nobody’s ever made me feel the way you do."
"Well, when you put it like that." But Jared doesn’t sound convinced.
"My past would send anybody with a lick of sense running in the other direction," Jensen reminds him. "I can't promise I won't fuck up again. I'm still the same man who cheated…"
"Stop," Jared interrupts. "You've got a clean slate with me. I mean, I'll keep an eye out, I’m not an idiot, but the slate is clean."
Jensen can't stand not to touch anymore, so he pulls Jared close. They hang on each other, and he makes it a point to take it in, really feel it, as he winds one arm around Jared’s back and lets his other hand rest at his hip, while Jared surrounds him, his size and heat a blanket pulled tight.
"I missed you," Jensen says. "So much."
He presses his cheek against Jared’s and feels a sharp stab of fear, a knife-twist that may never go away. What if he doesn't have it in him to stay true? He doesn’t know how he’ll go on if he fucks this up with Jared the way he did with Paul.
"I missed you, too."
Jensen leans back to look Jared in the eye; they press their foreheads together and hold like that for a while before Jensen opens his mouth and goes all in.
"I love you." He presses a kiss to Jared’s lips, quick and soft. "Please come back to me."
Jared’s eyes are wide as the first hint of a grin curls his lips. "Who are you and what have you done with Jensen Ackles?"
"Shut up. I'm trying to have a moment."
Jared pulls back and loosens his hold to run his big hands down Jensen’s back. "I love you, too. In case there was any doubt."
Jensen shakes his head like there wasn't but he's sure he must be grinning like a fool. He doesn’t immediately notice the concerned line that furrows Jared’s brow.
"I’m pretty scared of fucking this up," Jared says. "I can't promise I won't wake up in two months with an urge to take off."
This, Jensen’s prepared for. He knows Jared well enough that he’s considered it many times over, and he knows what he wants to say. So, he raises his hands to cradle Jared’s face between them and he stares at him hard, trying to express everything he feels through his eyes alone.
"Just come home with me. I promise to try if you do. And if you wake up two months from now, or six months from now, or, hell, three years from now, and you want to go, Jared." Jensen presses another kiss, smiles big and true. "We'll go."
~