We Carved Our Love In Oak: Part 7
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They decide to treat themselves and book a cheap motel room for a couple of nights, which ends up being only a five minute drive from the ocean.
Jensen sinks down onto the bed with a sigh and shuts his eyes, enjoying the feeling of something softer than grass beneath him.
“I’m in heaven,” Jared says, from his equally blissed-out position on the other bed.
Jensen murmurs in assent.
Once they’ve both showered and freshened up they head back out to find a place to have some dinner. They end up at a busy diner a few minutes’ walk from their motel, and they sit at a booth together by the window.
“We should go back to the beach after this,” Jared says. "I want to see the sea again."
“Sounds good to me,” Jensen agrees.
Jared’s stomach rumbles and Jensen cocks an eyebrow, smirking. “Hungry, Jay?”
“Yeah, on second thought? Let’s eat first.”
***
“Who would have thought we’d actually do this?” Jared asks, once they’re sat in a small beachside cafe, twirling his straw around his milkshake. “I mean we talked about it for years. I’d always tell mom that I’m going on this great adventure with Jensen and she’d sort of smile at me in the way moms do.”
Jensen thinks of his own mom back home and he has trouble plastering on a smile to meet Jared’s.
Jared’s smile dims, and he frowns, hand stilling around the straw. “Jen? What’s up?”
“Nothing, Jay,” Jensen says, before taking a sip of his own drink to stall. “I’m good. I’m happy out here.”
Jared studies him for a few moments before he smiles again, wide and easy, and Jensen’s own smile feels less strained after that.
“Good. I’m happy, too. If you did wanna go back… you’d say though, right?”
“Yeah,” Jensen says, smiling at him. “Yeah, I would.”
Their food arrives and their talk dissolves to make way for the sound of cutlery scraping on plates and Jared as he moans around the burger in his mouth.
Jensen tries to focus on his own meal, feels half turned-on at the sounds Jared is making and half ashamed that Jared eating a burger is getting him hard.
Jared is too oblivious to notice and Jensen is glad when they get out of there and he can breathe easier again, Jared leading the way to the beach.
***
It’s a game they created in hot summer evenings drinking out of a warm bottle of whiskey. They’d sit in the long grass on their fronts and face each other, sweat dripping down their backs and over the curves of their shoulders.
They mimic it now, stretched out together on the sandy beach.
“There is no sunrise so beautiful that it is worth waking me up to see it.”
Jared laughs and shakes his head. Jensen grins back at him and takes a sip of the bottle.
“Okay - I've got to put a call to you, 'cause I feel good tonight and everything's gonna be right."
Jensen takes another swig of the bottle and hands it over to Jared before answering. “If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.”
Jared frowns and Jensen gets an uncomfortable stirring in his gut at the look.
“Jen?” he asks, gentle. “You really think that way?”
“It’s just a quote, Jared,” Jensen says quietly. He laughs, but it sounds empty. “Plath, right? Depressing shit.”
"Well I counter your depressing shit with, I get by with a little help from my friends."
Jensen smiles at him. "I guess that is a pretty good counter."
"See, Jensen. The Beatles know."
Jensen laughs. “Okay, yeah. The Beatles.”
Jared grins.
They wander slowly back to their motel room, Jensen feeling pleasantly tipsy, the fresh air helping to sober him up as they walk.
In the comfortable silence, he reflects on the roadtrip so far and contemplates his feelings for the guy next to him. The love he feels for him not just in the romantic sense, but as a friend, and how grateful he is that they can share this together.
When they get back to the motel room, Jensen settles down onto his bed to relax, and kicks off his shoes.
He tries to close his eyes, to fully leave his anxieties behind, but he can’t stop thinking about his parents.
He can’t stop thinking about the way he’d bolted out of there, a fire in his chest, and the comfort he found from Jared and his family. The day plays over and over in his mind, and stays there like heavy stones in the bottom of his stomach. He regrets telling them, feels guilty almost. He knew it was a bad idea, all along he’d known.
Unfortunately, Jensen is apparently more transparent than he thought he was.
“You’re down,” Jared states.
Jensen doesn’t want to answer. He sits up and lets his legs hang off the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor. He considers trying to steer the conversation away from him, thinks about trying to distract Jared, maybe ask him where they’re going next. He’s desperate to not have to talk about himself.
“I’m okay,” Jensen says. He tries a smile but he’s sure it falls flat if the way Jared’s frown deepens is anything to go by.
“Wanna try that again?” Jared asks. His voice is gentle, and Jensen has always found it next to impossible to deny his best friend anything.
“I’m just thinking of home,” he says.
“You wanna go back?” Jared asks. He’s reaching a hand out, is squeezing Jensen’s shoulder. There’s so much concern in his eyes that Jensen’s not sure how he can continue speaking.
“No,” he says, around the lump in his throat. “No, I meant my parents. I was thinking about my parents.”
Jensen can feel the way the atmosphere in the room changes, how the air gets thinner and harder to breathe.
Jared moves over to his bed and sits beside him. “You want to talk about it?”
Jared’s voice is quiet in a way that it almost never is, and his eyes are gentle, bright, concerned. Jensen feels his cheeks burn at being the center of attention like this but already the hurt is bubbling up his chest, his windpipe, waiting for a chance of escape.
“I don’t understand,” Jensen says finally, almost a whisper. “I love them, Jay. They’re my family.”
“I know,” Jared says, just as quiet.
“I feel pretty bad,” Jensen says, throwing the words out into the quiet room. “I split up my family, Jay. Just because I’m -- because it’s wrong, or whatever. I didn’t mean to be like this or to do this or to hurt them.”
His voice fades at the end and he runs a hand over the back of his neck, self-conscious, unable to meet Jared’s eyes. Jared is quiet beside him.
When Jared does speak, it’s with such conviction that Jensen can’t look away. He’s words are soft but they’re strong, determination in his eyes as if by saying them they’re becoming fact.
“You listen to me, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you, man. There’s nothing wrong with you, Jensen. You’re perfect. Your parents… I know they still love you. They just need some time.”
Jensen swallows, his throat feeling like it’s constricting. Jared reaches his hand out and rests it on Jensen’s shoulder, gives it a tight squeeze.
“He told me I had to make a choice,” Jensen says. “But I can’t, Jared. This isn’t something you choose.”
“I know, Jen,” Jared says softly, worrying at his bottom lip. “I know.”
“I feel so guilty,” Jensen mutters, choking on the words, feeling as they scratch his throat on the way up. His chest hurts and his mind feels fuzzy and numb and he doesn’t want to do this, looks down and blinks against the stinging of his eyes.
“Hey, no. Look at me, Jensen. Look at me.” Jared’s fingers slip beneath Jensen’s chin and gently tip his head back up until their eyes are locked. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, you understand me? Jesus, Jensen, never apologize for who you are. Don’t fucking change a thing about yourself man, and don’t wish you could. You’re my best friend and I love you, and don’t you dare go thinking you’re not good enough, alright?”
Jared’s staring at him, waiting for him to answer. The words roll over and over in his mind and the only thing he can keep thinking is I’m falling for you over and over, deeper and deeper in love.
Jensen nods, finally, and absently wipes beneath his eyes before squeezing his eyes shut. Jared pulls him against his chest and Jensen goes willingly, wraps his own arms around Jared’s back as Jared’s go around him. Jared smells of salt and sea and sunshine, and Jensen allows himself a moment to let go and breathe him in. To imagine.
To imagine being wrapped up in Jared’s arms in the dark of the night, sweat-slick, warm bodies, sheets twisted around them like a cocoon, tired, lidded-eyes smiling at each other in the soft glow of the morning sunshine.
Jensen’s head hurts like it’s packed full of cotton-wool, and he tries to pull back, only for Jared’s arms to tighten around him again, Jared’s hand rubbing comfortingly over his back.
“Thanks,” Jensen croaks out, his voice sounding like it’s broken and unused. He clears his throat and tries again. “Thanks, Jay.”
When Jensen does finally pull back he looks over Jared’s face and stills. He reaches a hand up to rest on Jared’s upper-arm and runs his thumb there, back and forth. “You’re crying,” he says. “Why -- why are you crying?”
Jared wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his other arm and shrugs. “Don’t like seeing you upset,” he mumbles.
Jensen smiles and shakes his head. “You’re a dork.”
Jared laughs, still wiping at his eyes and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”
They sit together for a long moment without saying anything.
Jensen breaks the silence by saying, “Hey, how about we stay in tonight? I don’t mind dipping into my food money to splash out on the motel for tomorrow night. I kind of like it here.”
“We can go halves,” Jared proposes. “Because that sounds like a really good idea.”
They get the money together and head towards the front desk to pay for the following night, before heading back and settling in for the evening.
In the corner of their motel room is a tiny television that Jared manages to get his iPod connected to. The mood is relaxed and mellow, and Jared puts on a playlist and just lets it run through. They sit together on Jensen’s bed and Jensen fiddles with his zippo, tries to keep his hands busy to distract himself from the fact he wants to buy some more cigarettes.
“Remember Chad?” Jared asks from where he’s lying next to Jensen, sharing Jensen’s pillow.
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “Wonder what he’s up to now.”
“Probably chasing girls,” Jared says.
Jensen snorts. “Probably.”
“Danneel so wanted to get with you,” Jared says.
“I think it would have been more of a threesome kind of deal. Katie looked pretty into it, too.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah.”
And then, “I liked them.”
“So did I,” Jensen says. “Although I don’t think I’m smoking weed ever again.”
“Good call,” Jared says.
They fall into a comfortable silence and listen to Jared’s playlist until it finally ends, silence filling the room.
Jared gets up to go change it and Jensen requests, “Something relaxed.”
Jensen watches as Jared spends a minute flicking through his songs to find something right.
“You want relaxed?” Jared asks, once he’s chosen something. “I was going to go for some Floyd, but I’m thinking this.”
The song starts to play, and Jensen remembers it from one of Jared’s driving playlists. Actress by Steady Sun. Jensen smiles at him.
“There’s this book,” Jensen says. “Called Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It’s about these two guys in search of the American Dream.”
“Like us,” Jared says.
Jensen smirks. “Yeah. Except with us there are less strippers, less drugs, and less crime involved.”
“Give us time, Jensen,” Jared says.
Jensen smiles at him.
Jared gets up again to choose the next song and Jensen continues to fiddle with his lighter, thinks about finding a store to buy some cigarettes.
“This one’s special,” Jared says, walking back over to sit down next to Jensen.
“Special?” Jensen asks. Teasingly, he says, “What’s the huge meaning behind this song? What are you gonna get excited about over this one?”
Jared turns to him and he grins. “It’s really simple. I just like how it sounds. It makes me want to listen to it over and over. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of it.”
“Yeah?” Jensen asks, listening a little closer, trying to make out the words. They jumble and blur into each other, as they slur over the acoustic guitar, and it sounds beautiful, even if Jensen’s not really sure what it’s about.
“Yeah,” Jared says. “And I put this song on for you.”
Jared says it nonchalantly, and Jensen freezes up at the words, his fingers stilling around the zippo. He looks at Jared who’s sitting close to him, almost too close.
“What?” Jensen says, feeling his voice get stuck in his throat. “Why is this song for me?”
"They're my favorite band," Jared says, and then suddenly they’re only a few inches apart, breath ghosting too-close between them.
"Yeah?" Jensen asks, frozen beneath Jared’s stare.
"And you're my favorite person," Jared says, as if he’s just stating fact. Jensen knows, abstractly, that they’re best friends, that there’s no other person he’d rather spend time with, but the air is charged with something different and he’s much too afraid to examine it.
Jensen swallows and then Jared is pulling back, eyes wide and shocked. He stands up like he’s been burned and grabs his keys, his wallet.
“What are you doing?” Jensen asks, feeling like his heart is beating hard enough to fly out of his chest. He feels anxious, nauseated, unsure if he’s able to stand.
“I need to - go for a walk,” Jared says, not meeting Jensen’s eyes. “I’m sorry, man, I just need to get some fresh air. I won’t be long.”
Jensen watches without comprehending as Jared walks out of the motel room and the door slams behind him.
He’s still staring at the door a couple of minutes later, too much in a daze to make sense of anything.
Frustrated, he slips on his shoes, grabs his jacket and heads out the door.
***
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