We Carved Our Love In Oak: Part 4
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He comes around to consciousness slowly, and it takes him a full minute to get through the thumping in his head and realize the sounds he’s hearing are the sounds of someone throwing up.
He groans and rolls over onto his back, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.
“Fuck,” he mutters, the taste in his mouth making him wonder if he threw up at any time last night.
Last night.
He groans again and moves his hands away from his eyes and blinks against the light.
With great effort and a spinning head he props himself up on his elbows and glances around the room. He’s lying on the floor, wearing one shoe and the other hidden under the mounds of clothes, potato chip packets and whatever shit is spread around the room.
He manages to stand, feeling like he's going to topple over at any moment, and heads towards the bathroom. Its door is half ajar, and Jensen peeks inside, where Jared is leaning over the toilet in a real sorry state.
"Jay," Jensen croaks, moving forward and getting down on his knees beside him. "You okay man?"
Jared groans and Jensen tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, out of the way of Jared's face.
"Drank too much," Jared says, and Jensen hums in assent, hand resting on Jared's back. "Never--"
He's cut off with a cough, gagging, and he's throwing up into the toilet bowl again. Jensen's stomach turns and he swallows hard, wills his own body to behave and tries to breathe past the clogging smell of vomit that's filling up the tiny room.
"--drinking again?" Jensen finishes for him, hand rubbing up and down Jared's back.
"Never," Jared repeats, head hanging forward.
They sit for a moment, Jensen's hand resting on Jared's back while he breathes, slow and steady over the toilet bowl.
Jared sits back on the cold bathroom tiles and sways a little. Jensen shuffles forward to put his hands on his shoulders to keep him upright and Jared shuts his eyes with a small sigh.
He makes a small, croaky sound in the back of his throat and sinks back against Jensen, who makes room for him in the vee of his open legs.
Jensen is hit with the sudden proximity of them, the warmth of Jared seeping through his clothes. He’s always been like a furnace and Jensen tries not to think about it, shuts his eyes and ignores the feel of Jared’s shifting muscles as much he can.
"Feel like shit," Jared mumbles.
"You smell like shit," Jensen says keeping his arms wrapped around Jared's body, in a backwards semblance of a hug.
The door creaks behind them and Jensen looks over his shoulder to see Chris standing there in just his boxers.
He raises an eye at the two of them and then smirks.
"Feeling rough, Jared?" he drawls, all southern twang.
Jared groans and nods, still leaning back against Jensen's chest. He doesn't make any effort to move.
“Come out when you’re ready, serve you up some breakfast,” he says. He gives Jensen a quick wink and then walks away. Jensen feels himself blush, and realizes that Chris probably sees more than he lets on.
Jared’s head is lolling forward on his chest and Jensen shifts a little on the hard ground, getting uncomfortable.
“Jared?” Jensen says, softly. “You falling asleep again man?”
“‘M tired,” he says.
“I know,” Jensen says. “But you should get up. Eat some breakfast; it will make you feel better. Plus, my ass is getting numb.”
Jared mumbles something and it’s too slurred to discern, but he’s moving off of Jensen, slowly. He tears some tissue paper off the roll and brings it up to his mouth, groaning.
“You okay?” Jensen asks, standing up. His head is thumping and he’s lightheaded, thinks maybe Jared has the right idea and the floor is the best place. He leans against the wall as Jared continues to lie half over the toilet.
“Yeah,” Jared says finally, before dropping his scrunched up tissue paper into the toilet and reaching forward to flush.
Jensen helps him off the floor, Jared’s fingers clasping at the front of Jensen’s shirt.
“Shit, man,” Jensen says, placing a hand over his chest. “You should take a shower. Brush your teeth.”
“Toothbrush is in my bag. In the truck.” He blinks a few times and looks around the room. “Where the fuck are we?”
Jensen laughs and shakes his head. “I have no idea man. Probably the other side of the city.”
Jared cracks a small smile at that and releases his grip on Jensen’s t-shirt as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Jared’s hair is sticking up at odd angles, sleep-mussed and ruffled, and Jensen bites back on a smile and only just resists reaching out to run his fingers through it.
They both wander into the kitchen where Chris and Steve are sitting, Mike still asleep and snoring on the couch in the other room.
Steve serves up pancakes and Jensen eats a couple, tries to make Jared eat some, too. He knows it's bad when Jared's refusing food.
"Here you go, man," Chris says on a chuckle, dropping two white tablets in front of Jared. "Advil."
"Thank Christ," he says, picking them up and dry-swallowing them. Jensen slides his glass of orange juice towards him across the table.
Chris smirks. "Just Chris is fine."
After breakfast, Chris lends them each a new toothbrush - “I have a hangover kit and they’re fucking vital,” - and once they’ve brushed their teeth and had quick showers, they’re both functioning a little better, and Jensen feels a lot more human.
They’re both eager to get back to the truck and onto the road, to leave the night and the city behind them and continue onwards.
“You gonna be able to find your way back?” Steve asks, once they've finished eating and are getting ready to leave.
“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Jensen says.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” Jared says, still looking pale and tired.
“Anytime,” Chris says, leaning against the doorframe. “Anytime you boys wanna paint the town red, you come knocking, alright?”
“Will do,” Jensen says, surprised at how much he’s warmed up to the guy in just the short time they’ve known each other.
Jared and Jensen turn to walk away, their shoulders brushing together as they walk side by side in the small corridor.
Jensen remembers enough to get them out of the neighborhood and onto the main streets, remembers certain stores and roads, and they stick close together with people brushing past them, dressed in suits on their way to work.
Jensen smokes while they dawdle along, Jensen not wanting to rush and Jared wearing Jensen’s sunglasses and making small groaning sounds whenever someone knocks against him. Jensen’s pretty sure Jared’s glaring at everyone from behind the dark shades.
“You look like shit,” Jensen offers as they wait at a crossing.
“Shut up, pretty boy,” Jared mumbles. “Not all of us can spend the entire night drinking and look like fucking male models the next day.”
“Hey, I did try and cut you off man,” Jensen says, grinning. They cross the road and Jared sticks close by him again, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. “I mean, granted, I probably should have done it around the time you asked whether you’d look good dressed as a nun, but you’re too much fun when you’re drunk.”
“Thanks a lot, Ackles,” Jared says. “I’ll remember this.”
Jensen laughs and throws his cigarette into a cigarette bin they pass. “You don’t remember shit from last night, don’t lie to me.”
“Oh, God,” Jared mumbles. They turn onto a different street and Jensen realizes where they are, relieved knowing they’re only a couple of minutes away now, and soon they can try getting out of the city in the hectic rush-hour traffic. “Did I do anything embarrassing?”
“You talked to a dog at one point. Like, full-on conversation. Its owner - some homeless man - thought you were nuts. I had to drag you away.”
“Oh no. That does sound like me,” Jared groans.
Jensen laughs. “Yeah. It was a pretty interesting moment.”
They fall into a comfortable silence as they walk towards the parking lot and past the diner they had dinner in the evening before.
They reach the truck and Jared groans in relief. “Finally.”
Jensen offers to drive and Jared gladly accepts, burrowing down in the passenger seat wearing his hoody, even though Jensen can tell it’s going to be another hot and sticky day.
He puts the music on low, Bob Dylan's The Times They Are A-Changing album as something to fill the silence in the car but soft enough to not bother Jared. The sky stretches out before them as they leave the city, the road stretching into the distance, miles of black tarmac beneath the sun.
He's not sure where they're supposed to be headed, decides instead to take random routes. It doesn't feel like even of them have a real destination, and so anywhere is as good as anywhere else. It takes longer to get out of LA than Jensen had anticipated, Jared sleeping through nearly two hours of traffic as Jensen slowly inches along and chooses quiet songs as a backdrop.
Around midday Jensen pulls up at the side of a quiet road, thankfully out of the city. Tall pines stretch above them, and in either direction beside the dusty road. They're driving past woodlands and forests, Jensen having needed to get the itchy city from his skin and find the space to breathe.
Jared wakes when Jensen cuts off the engine, slowly sitting up and blinking at Jensen with tired eyes.
"Where are we?" he asks, rolling down the window. He yawns and Jensen’s own yawn follows, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it over.
Jared takes it gratefully and unscrews the lid.
"Near some reserve, or state park or something. Somewhere near Bakersfield."
"State park? We going camping, Jen?"
"Shut up, idiot. You were asleep. I didn't know where you wanted to go."
A bird squawks in the distance, high above their heads, and Jensen peers through the window as a small black shape flashing through the trees.
He looks to Jared, who’s grinning at him, and Jensen raises his eyebrows in question.
“Nothing,” Jared says. “Come on.”
They get back on the road and Jared stays awake this time, back in control of the music and finally getting back to normal, keeping up a constant stream of chatter.
“I’m starving,” Jared says, sometime around midday. Jensen’s feeling tired, ready for a break and to give Jared a chance to drive, and they pull over on the deserted stretch of road they’re on and rummage through the truck for food.
They manage to get a makeshift picnic together and sit on the grass verge to eat, sitting cross-legged with the stereo in the truck playing music and the window rolled down.
A fly buzzes around Jensen’s head and he swats at it, watches as it flies to Jared and then darts away.
“We should get some more food at some point,” Jared says, around his mouth of potato chips. “And gas. How are we doing?”
“Got enough for now,” Jensen says. “You wanna take over driving next?”
“Sure, Jared says. “We’ll take a look at the map. See where to park up tonight.”
“Maybe a place with a shower,” Jensen says.
“That’d be nice."
They settle side by side on the grass to relax before setting off again, and Jensen feels his stress and tiredness from his hangover and the night before slip away like vapor.
“What are you even looking for, man?” Jensen asks quietly, arms behind his head, staring up at the clouds as they slowly float past.
“I’ll know it, Jensen. I’ll know it when I see it. I’ll feel it’s right, you know?”
Jensen does know because he’s certain he’s already found it. The thought stings as soon as it’s there.
He brings his cigarette up to his lips and takes a long drag. It burns low and slow between his fingertips and he flicks it into the dry grass, watches as it burns out and the smoke disappears into the air.
Shouldn’t smoke, Jensen. Come on, man, quit. For me, Jen?
His fingers trace over the cigarette packet before he chucks it aside and puts his other hand behind his head.
Jared turns on his side to face him and Jensen turns his head, meeting his gaze. Jared’s wearing a soft, tender smile and Jensen smiles back.
“What are you doing out here, Jensen?” Jared asks, pulling blades of grass from the earth.
“I’m - with you,” Jensen says, the words splintered and coming out in bursts, like static. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m out here with you, you dork. Couldn’t let my best friend go on a roadtrip by himself, right?”
Jared brushes a long blade of grass over Jensen’s bare arm. It tickles but Jensen doesn’t move, doesn’t want to break the connection they have, however flimsy and delicate it is.
“Right,” Jared says, still smiling. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Jensen says. Jared drops the blade of grass and rests the flat of his palm on Jensen’s chest.
Jensen lets out a slow breath and closes his eyes. He can feel the thump thump thump of his own heart beneath Jared's hand, is sure Jared must be able to feel it, too.
"We should get back on the road," Jared says softly, moving his hand away as if it had never been there at all.
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Yeah, okay."
They get up off the ground and get into the truck, Jared behind the wheel and Jensen with a map spread over his lap.
***
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