Some Things Stay the Same (1 of 3)
master post
The Pontiac's been due for a breakdown since sometime before MySpace went out of style, so it shouldn't come as a surprise when it dies. Jared ignores the ALT light when it comes on because in this weather, at this time of night, he doesn't see much choice. Soon after, the dashboard lights flicker out and the hum of the engine fades away and before he knows it, he's coasting.
The car's a loaner from his brother Jeff, who warned Jared as he handed the keys over less than a week ago that it's more suited to the junkyard than the roadway. "You oughta get that alternator checked, at least," he'd said. Pretty specific.
But Jared hadn't listened. Or maybe he did but he disregarded the advice, too desperate for a ride to apply common sense. He's been driving around the city for two days looking for a place to live and he's saving for a down payment. Car parts don't figure into the budget. Jared might have a bad habit of ignoring warning signs until it's too late to do anything but deal with the fallout. So he didn't heed Jeff's advice. As usual. He'll no doubt catch hell for that later.
For now, Jared thinks, anybody who has a problem with his irresponsible alternator-less existence should feel free to kiss his ass. The sky's hurling down rain so fast and heavy the car shakes with it. The power steering’s shot but Jared manages to muscle the sedan into a curbside parking space. Streets are dark, lights out pretty much everywhere as far as he can tell, and he doesn't see any other cars nearby. It's unusual to find the restaurants and bars of the south Austin neighborhood closed this early, only a little after eleven, but it makes sense given the weather. So it's deserted, and a rainstorm of biblical proportions has come, and Jared's stuck in it. Figures.
He tries Triple-A, but the call's dropped. He shakes his head and laughs. It's either that or cry and Jared Padalecki isn't a crier.
The only available course of action he can figure is to stay put and try to get some rest until the storm clears. He'd probably play the crossword on his phone to pass time but he doesn't want to run out the battery. He doesn't even have a book to read, and no light to read it by if he did. Jared hates being bored more than anything. He reclines his seat as far as it'll go and lays back, shuts his eyes, and tries not to think too much.
When someone taps on the window no more than a minute later, Jared jumps so high the top of his head brushes the roof's sagging upholstery. The figure outside taps again, louder this time, and Jared holds up his hand to indicate he heard then presses that hand against his chest for a moment as if that will slow his heartbeat any. Adrenaline's a hell of a thing. After taking a second to gather his wits, he rubs his palm over the fogged up window and peers out. Looks like a man out there, wearing some sort of raincoat with a hood that shields his face. He's motioning for Jared to roll down the window. Ridiculous of course, since the windows are electric. Jared opens the door instead.
Cold, hard rain floods in sideways, washes over Jared and soaks the upholstery. "It died," he says.
"What?"
A loud clap of thunder sounds in the distance and Jared speaks louder. "It's dead," he repeats.
"Shouldn't be out driving in this anyway," the man yells back. "Come with me."
The rain batters Jared's skin and clouds his vision. It's all he can do to follow when the man leads him to a nondescript place that says Tavern on the door in big block letters. It's just one business in a long row of converted warehouse storefronts. Jared goes because it's better than sitting in the car, and he'd be willing to lay odds the guy's not a serial killer. Statistically, it's barely even a possibility. Jared considers it anyway. Yeah, the guy's more likely a Good Samaritan than a serial killer. This is good decision making at its finest.
"You wouldn't know a good decision these days if it bit you in the ass."
That's Genevieve's voice in his head. She has a point. He ignores it and follows the man through the door, takes a minute to clear his eyes and shake rain from his hair, pushing it back as he shivers against the chill. The place has big booth seating and Jared can just make out a couple of pool tables in an alcove along the back wall. Jared's Good Samaritan shrugs out of his raincoat and drops it to one of the stools as he makes his way to the other side of the long L-shaped bar.
The power's out but the man's got a battery operated lantern, the kind people take camping, and it's pretty bright. There's a laptop open on the bar, too, that casts out its own electric glow. When the man nears it and reaches down, saying, "I've got some merch back here, t-shirts. I'll get you one," Jared gets his first good look, and. Goddamn.
"Jensen?" He says. The name sounds off somehow coming from his lips, garbled and rough after so many years.
Jensen looks up, seems to see Jared for the first time, really see him, and a smile breaks over his face, big and open. And…it's Jensen. God, it's…
"Jensen fucking Ackles," Jared says, surer and louder.
"Jared?" Jensen laughs the name and abandons what he's doing to make his way over. "What the hell are you doing back here?"
He doesn't sound disappointed. Happy. He sounds happy. His eyes roam over Jared like he can't believe what he's seeing.
Jared grins big and opens his arms for a hug. "I'm home," he says.
Jensen doesn't hesitate, goes right in for it and pulls Jared in tight. Jared's wet still, but the cold is forgotten. "God, you're huge," Jensen says when he pulls away. His eyes are dancing, as expressive as Jared remembers. As beautiful.
"Ate my Wheaties." It's barely a joke but Jensen laughs.
"I guess so." Jensen crosses an arm across his chest and looks down as he rubs his nape with his free hand in an old, familiar gesture. He points to the bar and walks back to it. "Better get you that shirt."
Jared feels like he should shake himself to restore higher brain function. All the gears have come to a halt, locked on one particular point they can't move from - Jensen. He'd planned to look him up once he got settled. Seeing him now is the happiest surprise Jared's had since he moved back. The happiest surprise he's had in a while.
"How long's it been?" He asks. That's good, civilized. He's fighting the urge to scoop Jensen up and hug him again, I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and call him George style. He hadn't realized he missed the guy so much.
Jensen's crouched behind the bar and his voice is muffled. "Must be close to ten years, right?"
"Yeah, that sounds right." Jared steps in closer. "My parents moved up to Round Rock back in, uh, '02. I guess the last time I saw you was when I was helping them move, but I don’t think we talked."
A black t-shirt is hurled in his direction. "Here, you can wear this," Jensen says as he hustles to the back room. "I've got some clean bar towels you can use to dry off."
Jared's already unbuttoning his shirt, anxious to peel the wet fabric from his skin. "That's great, thanks."
"And I've let you off easy so far," Jensen calls back to him. "But I will be giving you a world of shit for wearing that god-awful Hawaiian shirt."
"Shut up. It's cool." Jared hangs it on the nearest chair. He's still chilled from the rain and he rubs his hands over his bare arms to work some heat back into them as he toes off wet flip-flops. He looks down at his feet and digs his toes into the polished hardwood floor.
"But not cool." Jensen's voice seems to stutter out over the last word when he returns carrying some small hand-towels, rags really. Jared looks up to find him staring.
"Wheaties, huh?" Jensen's voice is teasing, but there's something heated there, too. Jared feels his temperature rise with it.
"I'm a little OCD about the gym, I guess."
Jensen clears his throat. "No complaints here." He pushes the towels at Jared and turns away. "Nothing worse than getting caught staring. Sorry."
"No complaints here," Jared echoes, anxious as always to smooth over every awkward situation. "I know how that is. Guess I spent a good part of my teen years staring at you."
Jensen turns back to Jared at that but his gaze doesn't sink below eye level this time. And maybe Jared's reading too much into it, but that seems like a choice and not an easy one. He figures he's probably projecting. Jensen's gorgeous. So fucking perfect in the dull, yellow light with tear-shaped raindrop shadows scattering over his skin.
And it's Jensen. Juvenile delinquent. Badass. Movie buddy. One of the saddest kids Jared knew underneath all that. Looking good, doing well, after so many years. He was Jared's best friend back then, though neither of them would have admitted it. Jensen had a reputation to uphold after all. And good kids like Jared didn't hang out with troubled young men like Jensen. Freshmen and seniors weren't friends. It was a distinction that seemed reasonable at the time.
Jared scrubs the rain from his skin with the threadbare rags. "I can't believe it's you." The words come out a little breathless, a little overwrought, if not downright cliché. Of course it's Jensen. He's from the neighborhood. Jared's in the neighborhood. It's hardly a soap opera set-up.
"I bet I'm more surprised than you are."
Jared concedes the point with a nod. He drops the rags on the nearest table and pulls the t-shirt over his head before finally taking a moment to get his bearings and look around. The tavern's bigger than he first thought; on closer inspection, it seems more like a full service restaurant. Its history as an old brick and mortar warehouse is displayed through high, exposed ceilings and industrial-size windows. The dark wood of the bar and the oversized booth tables is well-worn but polished, and it gleams in the dim light.
It's a good place; it suits Jensen. Or at least Jared thinks so. After nearly a decade, he's probably lost the right to claim he knows what suits Jensen anymore.
Sometime during his wool-gathering, Jensen's stepped away and back toward the bar. He swings the laptop around to tap on the keyboard.
"Sorry," Jared says. "I mean, don't let me get in your way if you've got work."
"It's okay. I'm just going to shut this down. Looks like you'll be stuck here for a while."
"So it was probably just porn, then," Jared teases.
"Porn?"
"Dude, I'm not judging. We all do it."
"Not me." Jensen closes the laptop and leans back against the bar. "Not on Tuesdays."
"No porn on Tuesdays." Jared draws his eyebrows together like he’s considering it, intellectually. "Also the name of my new band."
"So you're going with a 'name of my new band' joke." Jensen shakes his head. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Some things never change."
"God, I hope not."
Jared's not sure what that means, but Jensen sounds like he means it. So Jared grins, and things are quiet for a minute but their gazes don't break, and it doesn't feel uncomfortable.
Jensen shakes loose of it first. "It looks like you're stuck with me for a while."
Jared resists the urge to tell him that, yeah, he said that already, figuring he's in no position to judge. "At least 'til the power comes back," he says instead.
"It's pretty bad out there. Could take all night," Jensen says. "Why don't you take a load off and I'll get us some drinks. We can catch up."
"I'd like that." It sounds like a wonderful ending to an otherwise shitty day. "What about you? Don't you need to get home?"
"Not in this," Jensen tells him. "I was planning to stay until the weather clears, anyway."
"Awesome."
"Beer all right?"
"Yeah, whatever's handy." Jared slides into a booth and runs his hand along the tabletop. It's a sturdy chunk of wood, big and old. "Nice place," he calls out.
"Thanks. I like it." Jensen returns carrying the lantern in one hand and two longnecks in the other. He leaves the light nearby and sets the beers on the table. "They're still cold," he says as he slides into the seat across from Jared. Jared swipes his fingers over the smooth surface of the bottle to absorb condensation that's beaded on the glass before he brings it to his mouth for a long, satisfying swallow. He feels his shoulders relax as the stress of the stupid day and the stupid car and his stupid life starts to unwind.
"Thanks," he says.
Jensen leans in to rest his elbows on the table and smiles. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"
"You could say that." Jared stretches an arm over the back of his seat. "This doctor, anyway."
"Jared Padalecki, MD." Jensen shakes his head like he still can't believe it. But that's horseshit and Jared knows it. You can do whatever you want, Jared. You don't wanna be a loser like me. The memory's so sharp and clear, Jared almost mentions it, but he stops himself. If Jensen's anything like he used to be, he won't appreciate the reminder.
"It's a living," Jared manages. "People make more of it than they should. I mean, I'm in family practice so it's mostly a lot of strep throats and sprained ankles."
"Still impressive, man."
"Thanks."
Jared's mind is not on the medical profession though, far from it. He can't stop staring at Jensen, taking in details like he's memorizing them for a test. Casual in a long-sleeve tee with the bar logo on it and soft, worn jeans, Jensen's both different and the same as ever. There's a dark tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve and Jared wants to push the cuff back, put his hands on it and inspect it, feel Jensen's blood pulse under his fingertips.
It comes back to him in such a rush, that old pull and the new of it. Jensen, older, somehow less pretty, but hotter. Or maybe it just seems that way. Memories are hard to quantify.
"So-" Jared starts, right as Jensen says, "Look, I-."
They share a laugh, and Jensen says, "You first."
"Oh, I was just going to say." Jared clears his throat. What was he going to say? "No porn on Tuesdays, huh?"
Jensen nods. "Yeah, I have to file the weekly report on Wednesdays back to corporate. Tuesday nights, I spend making up shit to send them."
"This place has a corporate office?"
"I know, right?" Jensen's tone is all 'what are you gonna do?'. "Management group out of Houston. For now, anyway. Rumor has it they're going to sell soon. As long as I meet the profit margins, they let me think I run the place."
Jared picks up a coaster with the name of the tavern on it and rolls it across the table. "The Graveyard?"
"That's us," Jensen says. "You'll have to come to the Halloween bash next month. It's our biggest night of the year."
"I might just take you up on that." Jared smiles. "It's a nice place. I like it."
"Thanks. It's not mine but I've put a lot of work into it." Jensen takes a long draw off his ale. "I guess the neighborhood's changed a lot since the last time you were here."
"Yeah, you know I've seen a lot of it in the last couple of days." Jared looks out the window. Still dark. Still stormy. Still can't see shit. But he peers into the darkness like he can make something out. This block is usually pretty active with foot traffic as people wander from coffee shop to bar to boutique. "Looking for a place to live."
"You're really moving back?"
"Yep." Jared bites the inside of his cheek and looks especially close at the bottle label. "It was kind of a sudden decision so things are," he waves his hand, "I don't know, unsettled, I guess."
"Had to get out of Atlanta fast, huh?"
Jared’s laugh is a little too sharp, so he ends it quick with a nod and a tip of the bottle to his mouth.
"Emory, right?"
"Emory was a while ago."
"Yeah, I guess so. Time flies."
"I stayed in the city after my residency ended," Jared tells him. "I had a pretty nice spot in a family practice there."
"Why'd you decide to move back to Austin?"
There's something warm in Jensen's voice. He sounds ready to accept anything or nothing. It's hard to believe it's been so long, Jared thinks. Slipping back into this is easy.
Still, he's reluctant to go into the whole story, so he says, "I guess I realized the only thing going for me there was my job." That's not a fair statement, though. "That's not completely true. I have some good friends out there. I just." Jared stops himself. What can he say? What does he want to say?
"Dude, you don't have to go into it."
Jared tries to shrug off his embarrassment. "It's no problem," he says. "No big deal. Just maybe not right now."
Jensen slides out of the booth, grabbing the empty bottles on his way back to the bar. "You sound like you could use another."
"You're a good man, Jensen Ackles. I always said so."
"Yeah, well. You were the only one." There's more than a little truth to that, but Jared doesn't mention it. Jensen returns with two more bottles. "Two's my limit on a work night, I'm afraid."
"It's not a work night for me, so keep 'em comin', barkeep."
"Yes, sir." They smile at each other over the glass, so natural, so pure and unchecked, Jared feels almost goofy with it. "So, the neighborhood?" Jensen asks, about half a second before the mutual grin-fest goes on too long.
"Yeah, the neighborhood." Jared sets down the bottle and leans forward. "You're right. It's changed."
"I guess I don’t think about it much since I've been around," Jensen says. "But it hits me sometimes. I mean, we get tourists now."
"I don't know." Jared shakes his head and licks his lips, dragging every last taste of beer he can onto his tongue. "I still think I can see the old place underneath the new coat of paint. Once you get into the neighborhoods, every third house still pretty much looks like it could be condemned any minute."
"And every tenth one is a crack-house," Jensen agrees.
"There's that, yeah."
"But then you have everything else. Remodeled bungalows and craftsman-style houses with perfect lawns."
"Yeah, it's a nice mix, actually," Jared says. "When did things start to turn around?
Jensen leans back and looks up like he’s considering it. "Probably around '03, '04. That was the latest wave, anyway."
"Saw some of that in Atlanta around then, too."
"We've taken a hit over the last few years, like everybody else," Jensen tells him. "I worried for a while that we'd backslide more than we have. But things are smoothing out."
"If housing costs are anything to go by, I'd say so. At least in this neighborhood."
"I know a good real estate agent if you need one."
"I've decided to rent for now." Jared rolls his neck. Even talking about his living prospects brings back the stress of his situation. "It'll be faster that way. Probably one of the apartments back off Pecan."
"I know those apartments. You can probably get a good deal."
"I think so, yeah," Jared tells him. "They'll let me sign a six month lease."
"And they're close."
"I got a job in the neighborhood, actually," Jared tells him. "At the clinic."
"That is close." Jensen smiles. "You'll be a real local again."
"I'll be in biking distance of pretty much everything I need."
"Work, home-"
"The Graveyard for Halloween."
"Don't drink and bicycle," Jensen tells him with a tip of his beer bottle. "Your friendly neighborhood bartender won't allow it."
"I wouldn’t dare."
It hits Jared that he'll be able to see Jensen every day if he wants. The grin that threatens to break over that realization is so big and stupid he has to bite his bottom lip to suppress it.
"You could ride around the neighborhood on your old skateboard," Jensen says. "Not that I'd recommend it with your track record."
"Hey, I was still growing," Jared protests. "My legs just got in the way of my balance sometimes."
"Your legs, your arms, your existence."
"That must be why you were so determined to keep me off the streets."
"I was?"
Jared kicks at Jensen's foot under the table before remembering that his feet are bare and curling his toes in. "Come on, you remember. You'd pick me up in that car of yours."
"My mom's."
"Well, yeah." Jared drops his gaze, swamped by a feeling that’s a lot like nostalgia, but feels somehow more concrete than that. "God, I feel like we went to every movie that came out like five times. How many did we see?"
"A lot." Jensen narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "A lot."
Jared slaps his hand down on the table. "There's a bomb on the bus!"
Jensen laughs. "Oh my god, Keanu."
Jared tries to wink but he feels it go wrong somewhere in there and Jensen laughs at him, murmurs, "Lightweight."
"To think," Jared says. "We were both lying when we said it was about Sandra Bullock."
"Baby's first beard."
They lean back in their seats and regard each other fondly as their laughter dies away. So that was the start, claiming to be crazy for Sandra Bullock when they were both more inclined toward Keanu. But there was an end to it, too.
"Both of us. I mean, figuring out we both-" Jared runs a hand over his face. "That was something else, right?"
"You mean when you came back from college and found out I was gay by catching me getting a blow job in the back room of Mary's?" Jensen asks. "Yeah, that was something else."
"And you were all, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jared reminds him. "Until you were like 'Wait, what the fuck are you doing here, Jared?'"
Jensen raises his voice and mimics Jared's long-ago response with a laugh. "Well, I'm trying to do the same thing you are."
"I was so pissed." Jared shakes his head at the memory. "Why was I so pissed?"
"I don't know man, something about secrets."
"I think I may have been jealous," Jared admits. "But I wrapped it up in righteous indignation pretty good."
Jensen pulls the empty beer bottles close, lines them up, and stares at them instead of Jared.
"Nah, I understood," he says. "It was awkward as hell." He looks up with a lop-sided grin Jared can't quite define. "I remember being shocked you were old enough to be in a bar."
"I wasn't," Jared tells him. "I swiped Jeff's ID."
"The things we do for a backroom blowjob."
"Dude. I've done dumber things than that since."
"I don't want to know." Jensen swoops up the bottles as he slides out of the booth. "You want another?"
"Not unless you'll join me," Jared says, reversing his earlier decision.
"Just sticking with the two, I'm afraid."
"In that case, I'll cut myself off, too." Jared follows Jensen to the bar. He stretches his arms and rolls his neck to work out some of the kinks from a long day spent in the car before returning his gaze to Jensen. This looking at Jensen thing feels like it could cure his ills. It's the kind of thinking that usually gets him in trouble. But this is Jensen. Jensen's not trouble, not for Jared. He never was.
Jensen drops the empties in the bin behind the bar and leans over it while Jared leans in from the other side to face him. "So when are you signing the lease?" Jensen asks.
"Tomorrow." It's the first time Jared realizes he's made up his mind. It feels pretty good. "They allow big dogs - for a steep price, of course - so that pretty much seals the deal."
"How many dogs?"
"Two. Mutts. They're crashing at my brother's with me right now."
"How's Jeff?"
Jared shrugs. "Good. Everybody's good."
He decides against asking Jensen about his family. It doesn't feel like the time for touchy subjects, so he settles for, "I'm glad to see you doing so well." He realizes as the words leave his mouth that they might sound condescending and cringes against his own awkwardness.
Jensen doesn't seem to mind. "I'm glad I'm doing well, too," he says. "I was headed down a bad path back when you knew me."
"I didn't think so." Jared fiddles with some cocktail straws set out on the bar. "You just didn't have the support you deserved."
There's a tension in the silence that falls between them. Jared's going to say something, anything, probably random and off-point, when Jensen clears his throat and steps back from the bar to lean against the counter behind him. He stares at his feet when he speaks, voice pitched low.
"I had you."
"I was just a stupid kid." Jared still feels like one most of the time.
Jensen looks up and something in his eyes makes Jared shiver even as it burns through the shadows and straight into him. "You were a lot more than that."
"I'm glad you thought so."
It feels insufficient, like there's a moment here he's not rising to meet, but Jared's not sure that makes sense and the thought is fleeting. What his mind lands on isn’t deep. Damn, Jensen's hot, he thinks. Really fucking, scorching hot. And maybe they could, you know-
"You need to be alone for a while, honey. Just take care of yourself."
Fucking Genevieve. In his fucking head. Again. And she's right, as usual. Jared looks out the window - yep, still raining - then around the room like he's mapping it. His lets his gaze land on the pool tables and heads toward them.
"You up for a game?" He asks.
When he reaches the end of the bar, he's surprised to find Jensen’s come around from the other side to meet him.
"Jared," he says when he's standing right by him.
"I'm a little rusty," Jared admits.
"Jared."
"Huh?"
Jensen's really close. His hand comes up to curl around Jared's elbow and he pulls in even closer.
"Just-" Jensen shakes his head, looks away and back to Jared. Jared feels a rush of want go through him so fast and hard it almost steals his breath.
And just like that, Jensen's pushing himself up to the balls of his feet to land a kiss on the side of Jared's mouth. It's quick, a little off-target maybe, or maybe that's deliberate. And Jared doesn’t want to leave him hanging, that would just be rude, so he turns into it and he kisses him back.
He opens his eyes to find Jensen watching him. Jensen smiles and it crinkles the skin around his eyes, throwing Jared a little more off balance than he already is. He brings his fingers up to press against Jensen's neck, so soft it's barely touch, and deepens their kiss.
Jensen presses in close and cradles Jared's hips to hold him in place. He traces his tongue over Jared's lips and Jared wishes he'd thought of it first, smiles at the thought, allowing Jensen to lick into his mouth.
Their tongues slide and roll together. Jensen runs his along Jared's teeth, nips at his bottom lip and Jared mimics the move. He's feeling strangely careful about the whole thing. Jensen seems the same, tentative even, like maybe he thinks Jared's going to bolt.
And maybe he should. When Jared pulls back, Jensen doesn't chase the kiss. He licks his lips, curls them in to suck between his teeth; he's watching Jared, but there's something in his expression now that's as shadowed as the room around them and Jared doesn’t want that but he doesn't know what to do. He steps back and looks away.
Then Jensen backs up, too. "Sorry," he says, strained and low.
"Oh god." Jared smiles. "Don't be sorry. It's just." He stops to finally think about what he's going to say before he says it, something he doesn't do nearly enough. He looks at Jensen, reaches out a hand to nudge his chin. "I'm horrible at this sort of thing."
"You were doing pretty good."
"We were doing pretty good, yeah. I know this might be nothing, I don't want to sound like crazy-commitment guy or anything, but-"
"It's not nothing."
"Right. Well, good." And it is. Jared's glad it isn't nothing, but that's not the point. What was the point? Oh, yeah. "I recently got out of a relationship," he says. "It's not a good time for me to be starting something."
"It's not a start."
"Oh."
"No, I mean. I guess that came out wrong," Jensen says. "Sorry. It's just - this isn't the start for us, you know?"
"More like, we join this movie already in progress?" Jared guesses.
"Something like that." Jensen nods. "It was a long intermission, but we were friends. And friends can have fun, right?"
"Define fun."
"I don't know. I guess what I'm saying is-" Jensen steps back to spin in a slow three-sixty while he rubs his hand over the back of his neck. Something about his agitation relaxes Jared. At least he's not in it alone. When Jensen completes his turn and looks back at Jared, there's something set in his expression.
"We're here," Jensen says. "Your car broke down and the power's out and here we are. I'm pretty sure I've seen this porn. You grew up to be hotter than sin and I would very much like to fuck you on that pool table over there."
"Oh."
As near as Jared can tell, what's just happened is this: Jensen said a lot all at once and now Jared's speechless, an event so rare it must be some kind of sign. But Jensen's quiet now and even in the semi-dark, Jared can see the flush crawling up his neck and he realizes he's keeping a man waiting who just propositioned him fairly bluntly. Jared’s mama raised him better than that.
"Okay," he says.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Let's, you know, porn it up."
The whole exchange is so ridiculous he thinks Jensen might laugh it off as a joke, but he doesn't. He nods and steps up to Jared again. Pulls himself up and kisses Jared. Grips Jared's arms like he's holding him still and presses in close.
Their hard-ons through their jeans are no joke. The whimper that gargles in Jared's throat is no joke. That's his noise, the strain of his cock against Jensen's. His tongue in Jensen's mouth. And he's the lucky guy who's about to get fucked on a pool table, apparently. He's looking forward to that part.
Genevieve's voice tries to intrude, he can feel it bubble up in his subconscious, and he doesn't know what it's going to say, but it'll be right, it's always right. He forces it down before it can speak. That damned voice can take an indefinite leave of absence as far as Jared’s concerned. He wraps his arms around Jensen to pull him closer and Jensen runs his hands up Jared's arms to curl them around his shoulders; he slides his hands up and combs his fingers through Jared's hair, scratches gently at his scalp. Jared can't get close enough.
"Too many clothes," he breathes whisper-soft into Jensen's mouth.
Jensen's moving a little awkwardly in his arms. Jared's not sure why until his brain grasps that Jensen just toed off his shoes. Jared had no idea bare toes rubbing up against each other could be such a turn-on.
Everything about Jensen seems to light a spark. When he was sixteen, Jensen was beautiful and he damn well knew it. He carried it with him like a shield. The flash-memory of Jensen then falls like a sheet of clear plastic that drapes over the man who’s in his arms now and Jared feels a clench and tug somewhere deep in his chest. When Jared was little more than a kid, he’d look up at Jensen, sixteen and strong and stupidly beautiful, and feel small and clumsy and ridiculous. Maybe that’s the sort of thing that holds true forever.
Jensen pulls back, trailing his open mouth over Jared's jaw, his neck, around to tug his earlobe between pouty pink lips, and whispers in his ear, "I've got some condoms and lube behind the bar."
That pulls a raw, ragged laugh from Jared. "I'm impressed."
"The Graveyard is a full-service establishment." Jensen pulls away to go get what they'll need while Jared focuses on steady breathing. He reaches over to pick up the lantern and walks back to the pool tables.
The table Jared selects looks like it was abandoned mid-game. He sets the lantern down nearby and runs his hand along the edge, pressing down to test its strength. It's sturdy enough, perfect height. The green felt covering is scratchy but it'll be worth the burn, he thinks. His palms are down flat on the surface when he feels Jensen come up behind.
Jensen wraps his arms around Jared's waist and presses a kiss to Jared’s shoulder through the black fabric of the Graveyard t-shirt. He drops a small bottle of lube and a condom onto the table and nuzzles Jared's neck, licks his way around Jared's nape, trailing a wet line onto soft skin.
"I love your neck," he says. He slides a hand up Jared’s stomach, bunching the fabric of the shirt as he goes, all the way up to Jared's chest. Jared leans forward, into the curl of Jensen's fingers as they make his way up to his throat.
When Jared bends, Jensen follows, his mouth never ceasing its play on Jared’s nape in soft, pressed kisses, like maybe he really does love it. Jared's good with that. But his hard-on presses against the pool table and he moans out a little protest.
"Impatient." Jensen teases out the word with a nip to Jared's skin right along the soft bend of neck and shoulder. He licks and sucks it in. That's going to leave a mark Jared won't want to cover.
Jensen tugs at the hem of Jared's t-shirt then brings it up, and Jared with it, to pull it off before pushing him back down. He presses a kiss between Jared's shoulder blades before he backs away. Not for long, though. Jared hears the rustle of fabric then Jensen's on him again, his chest bare against Jared's back. He moans into Jared's skin, threads his fingers through his hair and pulls his head back, pushes up and pulls Jared’s head around, kisses him on the ear, on his cheek, finally brings him around enough to press their lips together, open and sloppy.
Jared throws one arm back to grip Jensen's thigh and pull him closer. Jensen's effectively taken control of the situation and the touch is all he can manage from this angle. Jared pushes himself back into it; he wants to, wants to give it up to Jensen so much it almost feels important.
When Jensen reaches around to undo Jared's fly and slides his hand, warm and big, past Jared's waistband and underneath the fabric of his briefs to cup his hard cock, it's all Jared can do not to come on the spot. "Holy fuck." His voice is a grind. "God, Jensen."
"Mmm. You like that?"
"What do you think?"
Jared moves his hand from Jensen's thigh, around to cup his ass, tries to splay his fingers out far enough to brush them between his legs, give just a little of what he's getting.
"Turn around for me," Jensen says. "Want to lay you out over the table, watch you while I work you open."
There's no reason to say no, so Jared says yes. As he straightens and starts to turn around, Jensen pushes his jeans down past his hips and Jared takes the hint, slipping out of them and his underwear in an ungainly squirm as he turns to find Jensen doing the same.
They both slip out of the last of their clothes and get a nice, long look at each other. Jensen's dick is high and hard, ready like Jared is.
"You don’t have to take it slow, you know," Jared says when he pulls Jensen to him. He dips his knees, just a little, so their cocks strain against each other. Only the barest amount of pre-come keeps it from being rough and dry.
"Maybe next time."
Jensen's words are muffled against Jared's jaw; he rubs their cheeks together and Jared thinks he probably should have shaved but the thought doesn't hold because Jensen's rocking him back. Jared’s never been the graceful type, but he finds it pretty easy to set his ass on the edge of the pool table and bend back over it. He catches himself on his elbows while Jensen practically crawls up him to press his lips to Jared's chest.
The eight ball rolls toward him, heading to the curve of his lower back, but Jensen palms it and slides it away. Jared watches as it makes its way to the side pocket.
"You didn't call your play," he murmurs. Jensen laughs into his skin. His lips are traveling south to Jared's stomach now. Jared’s abs tense and relax as Jensen drags his tongue over them.
Jared falls back onto the table slowly, pushing one arm behind him to roll balls out of the way as he goes. He thinks he might never be able to play pool again without thinking of Jensen's mouth on him, circling his belly button, sucking in the skin around it, one hand pressed to Jared's hip, one reaching for his cock. Jensen runs his thumb along the slit, picking up the moisture there and lightly pushing. Jared's flat on his back, looking up; it's so dark it seems like limitless space between them and the high ceiling.
"You're so beautiful," Jensen says. "Just like I thought." He presses his lips to Jared's cock.
The green felt of the table is scratchy on Jared's skin. It's not bad, but he feels it, feels the wood of the ledge underneath the bend of his knees, but mostly he feels Jensen's mouth on him, playing him, his tongue running down Jared’s shaft to his balls.
Jared throws a hand to his side and grabs for a railing. He finds it and clenches it while he slides his other hand down his body to Jensen's where it's settled on Jared's hip. Jared looks down to see the tattoo that winds its way down Jensen's arm to curl around his wrist.
Then Jensen's mouth takes him all, just swallows him down and suctions his skin, moisture of Jensen's talented tongue fluttering along the shaft while Jensen grabs Jared's leg and loops it over his shoulder, opening Jared up for him. Jared bends his other leg up to splay it wide along the railing and Jensen pulls off to suck on his two fingers, gets them good and wet, then works the rim of Jared's hole while he swallows him down again.
The shudder that works its way through Jared's body means this isn't going to last much longer. Jensen's mouth on his cock, his fingers playing Jared's hole. When Jensen slides one finger in slow and gentle then pushes in another, there's a burn and stretch that feels so good Jared almost bucks up off the table from it. Mouth on his cock, fingers in his ass, his sweat-slick back pressed down on scratchy felt. It's almost too much.
There's a part of him that feels helpless. He can't reach as much of Jensen as he wants to and it's driving him crazy. He feels his body writhing over the table like it belongs to somebody else, some desperate creature. Must look like such a slut, feels like it. Feels like he was made for this, having his body worked over so thoroughly, naked and sweaty on a pool table in the middle of the night. By Jensen. For Jensen.
Jared looks over to find the lube and the condom next to him and scoops them up quick to toss down, nearer to the end of the table where Jensen's bent over him. Jensen hears the noise and pulls up to look at Jared through moist lashes, his eyes dark and wide.
"I guess you're ready." The words rumble low along Jared's skin.
"Fuck yes." Jared moans and arches his head back on the table. "Come on, Jensen. Need it."
"I've got you. Relax."
Jared hears the sound of lube being opened, the rub of it on fingers, the tear of the condom packet and the slick motion of Jensen's hands on his own cock as he works it on and slicks himself. He thinks about watching. Wants to see Jensen ready himself, but he wants this, too - just the sound and smell and the feel of it. He closes his eyes when Jensen drags him closer, burn of the table at his back.
Jensen works his now-slick fingers along the rim of Jared's hole and pushes in again - hits the spot just right. Jared reaches down to fist his cock, tightens his grip and pulls hard to keep from coming while he bucks up. Jensen pulls his fingers away then he's back and Jared feels his cock pushing in, slow and slick and hot and hard.
Jensen's thick. It feels like his cock pushes against every possible nerve as he angles himself to slide in, pulling a choked cry from Jared's lips. Jared can’t bear to not see it anymore. He angles his head to look down where their bodies are joined. Jensen's watching Jared as he starts to stroke into him, bottoming out and pulling back, rolling his hips, and giving it to him again and again, faster and more forceful with each stroke.
Nothing's ever felt so good. Jared's sure he'd remember if it had. Nothing's ever looked so good as Jensen, sweat dripping in a line down his neck, sliding over his collar bone and down his chest to this clenching stomach. His half-hooded gaze is wild and intense. They're both breathing hard when Jensen brings his hand down to join Jared's on his cock. His rough, warm hand works Jared hard, jacking him off until Jared can't hold back anymore.
"Come on, come," Jensen growls. "Come for me."
The tense, clenching burn in Jared's body is so strong it feels like a short circuit. He shakes with it when he lets loose and shoots come over their hands and onto his stomach, up to his chest. Jensen leans in and licks some into his mouth, shaking now in tight, fast motions until he comes too, deep in Jared's ass. It sends convulsions through Jared. There’s something violent and harsh in it that he wants to protect Jensen from. It makes him want to hold Jensen close and tell him it's okay. Jensen's eyes bore into Jared's; each time Jared thinks he's finished, it seems another tremor rolls through his body and he's coming again until he finally stills and collapses down over Jared in an awkward sprawl.
It takes a minute for Jared to find his voice. "Get up here."
"I don't think I can move."
Jared reaches down to scratch his fingers through Jensen's hair. He realizes he's practically petting the guy, but he craves the touch. The sound of the rain and the hum of the nearby lantern are the only sounds other than heavy breathing. Jared shuts his eyes again, listens. He inhales the scent of them, come and sweat and latex, until Jensen musters the energy to pull out. He takes care with Jared, coming off him slow and easy. There's the rustle of the condom being disposed then Jensen's climbing on the pool table.
"Scoot over," he says.
Jared barely budges, and he's more than satisfied that the result is Jensen curled up close. When Jensen leans over to land a soft kiss, Jared smiles into it, a big post-orgasm grin that must take up his whole face.
Jensen slings one arm over Jared's waist and props his chin on his chest. "This pool table isn't so bad."
"What?" Jared protests. "Not so bad? I'm going to have rug burn for days."
"You love it," Jensen says. "You were rubbing yourself on it like a big cat."
"I was sex-crazed. I can't be held responsible for my actions."
"Come on over if you want." Jensen presses a kiss to Jared's warm, damp skin. "I'll rub aloe on it."
"Why does that sound so filthy when you say it?"
"Because I mean it filthy."
Jared laughs and pulls Jensen closer. "You know, I'm usually not this easy."
Jensen's look is skeptical. "Back room blowjob, Mary's."
"Well, yeah. I mean, you know." Jared makes a kind of wavy motion toward his sore but happy ass.
"What?"
Jensen's tone is teasing and Jared decides to play along, laughs out, "I don't normally give up this sweet ass of mine until I've at least gotten a movie and a steak dinner out of it."
"Well, when I'm rubbing aloe on your back, I'll order take-out and we can stream something on Netflix."
"It's a date."
"It is?"
"Well-"
And Genevieve's voice doesn't even need to pipe up this time. He knows where he's at, what he's been through. Knows he's no good for anybody right now. "I can't-" Jared stalls out over the words. "It's bad timing for anything more than friends."
Jensen smoothes Jared's hair from his forehead. "I know." He drops back down and snuggles in close. "It'd be kind of weird, right? We were never anything else, and after all this time?"
Of course that's true. It's not as though Jared's breaking Jensen's heart. The thought is ridiculous. But they were friends. Still are, apparently. Friends who just had mind-blowing sex.
"It's nice to be back," Jared says.
"I'm glad you're here, too."
There's a stutter of sound, like the room's taking a breath, the inhale of a beast coming back to life, and the lights flicker on. They laugh at the noise and Jared closes his eyes, not quite ready to bear witness to the mess that they've made.
But he really is happy to be back. And it was a hell of a way to wait out the storm.
part two