RPF: Friday Morning Quarterbacking, by topaz119
Title: Friday Morning Quarterbacking
Author: topaz119
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: Adult
Word Count: ~3000
Notes: So, last year, right about this time, I ended up writing the story of the year Jared threw a Thanksgiving party for the crew, Any Given Thursday. When the Thanksgiving challenge popped up here, I couldn't resist writing the morning after. It'll probably make a bit more sense if you've read the first one.
Jensen's fairly certain they're going to have an awkward morning--actually, he'll be happy if fucking doesn't screw up the entire weekend. It probably won't mess up everything, but he might just be indulging in a little denial. The last thing he thinks before he lets Jared's slow, even breaths pull him right back down into sleep is that they've talked a little, so maybe it won't be too weird to have been on his knees with Jared's dick down his throat when he wakes up for real, in the cold light of day.
It turns out that he's right, but in all the wrong ways.
Said cold light of day starts off with some ass leaning on the doorbell and Harley going absolutely batshit at the noise and the implied threat to his territory. Jared comes bolt upright, diving off the bed and fumbling for his jeans, yelling for Harley to calm the fuck down. The bed in the guest room isn't all that big and Jared sleeps sprawled out, which means that Jensen's spent the night sleeping on or under various parts of Jared and that--even better--he ends up with one of Jared's elbows planted firmly in his kidney as Jared launches himself off the bed.
It's not a real great start to the day.
The dipshit at the door turns out to be from the catering company, sent by the ever-efficient Karen to take down the tent; he and his guys don't seem particularly concerned that it's not even 9 in the morning. Harley, in return, really doesn't give a crap that the guy's got a legit reason to be there; he still wants blood. Jensen can't say as he blames him. He helps Jared wrestle him back and into the laundry room, and when that doesn't lower the volume much, which sets Sadie off, as well, waves Jared off to take them for a run.
"I can deal with watching these guys," he yells over the noise. Seriously, he'd do a hell of a lot more than keep an eye on the food-based equivalent to a roadie in order to get a little peace.
"Thanks, man," Jared says, stuffing his feet into running shoes and pulling a sweatshirt and then a weatherproof hoodie on over his t-shirt. "I owe you."
"Put it on the tab." Jensen gets Sadie's leash clipped onto her collar. "You know, the one that's up to about half your residuals now."
Jared flips him off as he opens the door to the laundry room, staggering back when Harley tries to make a break for it. At least the non-stop barking has shifted from the Intruder! Intruder! Kill! Kill! pitch to the familiar Whoo! Yeah! Run! Jared takes them out the front door, so they don't get reminded of the strangers in their backyard, and the three of them disappear in the rain and fog. The last Jensen sees of them, the dogs are doing their best to cross their leashes and send Jared sprawling, but hey, Jared's a big boy and he's the idiot who loves dogs, so Jensen's sure he can deal with them. He heads back into the kitchen, thankful that Jared's also a creature of habit, one who doesn't change things around for the hell of it, which means Jensen knows exactly where the coffee beans are stashed in the freezer and doesn't have to hunt around for the grinder or the gold filter for the coffee maker. If he has to be awake and paying attention to the guys in the backyard, he can at least have coffee while he does it.
When he opens the refrigerator to find cream, it's stuffed with little white boxes, labeled in what Jensen assumes is Karen's neat script. From the looks of it, nobody took anything home with them. "At least we won't starve," Jensen says, to the empty kitchen, weirdly quiet without Jared and the dogs to fill it up. He gives up on finding regular food, though; he's a little afraid that if he pulls out one box, they'll all fall out and smother him. He can drink his coffee black. The guys in the back are fast and efficient and ringing the damn doorbell again before Jensen gets much more than a start on his first hit of caffeine. He finds Jared's billfold right next to his keys and loose change on the counter by the phone, but of course there's not enough money in there to tip a barista so he empties out his own wallet and hands over the cash with what he hopes is a polite smile and a thank you.
Jensen's two over-sized mugs of coffee down and thinking about braving the refrigerator again, in search of breakfast, when the back door bangs open and the whirlwind returns. He pushes his mug back away from the edge of the counter and grabs for the towel Jared always has draped over the back of one of the bar stools, heading off Sadie's practiced attempt to go dry herself on the couch. She gives him the big eyes, the ones that beg for understanding and sympathy and promise undying devotion if he'll just let her do this one tiny thing.
"No way," Jensen tells her, rubbing her down briskly. "I'm on to you, girl." She whines at him, but he stands firm, not letting her go until she's relatively dry. As soon as he stands up, she shakes off, clearly hoping to get him with whatever he's missed, and then jogs off without a second glance, definitely done with him for the moment. Harley goes tearing after her.
"You finished torturing my dog?" Jared looks like he could use a good shake himself, hair going in ten different directions, wet and windblown and still breathing hard from the last sprint. Jensen tosses him the towel and doesn't have to fake the shudder when Jared wraps it around his neck to catch the drips. Sadie wasn't all that dirty, and it's not like she's not all over Jared anyway, so he guesses it's not that big of a deal, but still. Jared and his dogs are maybe a little too co-dependent. Then again, the dogs are probably better company than most of L.A. so who's Jensen to judge?
"Be nice or there'll be no sharing of the caffeine." Jensen reaches down the mug that matches the one he's already got on the counter and dumps in the half-bowl of sugar that's required to keep Jared from making a face with every sip.
"Dog?" Jared asks, making grabby hands. "Did somebody say something about a dog? I didn't hear anything."
"Such loyalty," Jensen says, filling up the cup and topping his own off, too. "I'm sure she'd be touched."
"Please," Jared snorts. "Like she wouldn't sell me out for a bone and a corner to chew it in." He takes a gulp from the mug and makes a quiet little noise of satisfaction that suddenly reminds Jensen that they're not just hanging out this morning, that things changed the night before and he doesn't exactly know what it means.
Jensen's sure everything has to be written all over his face--he's never had much of a filter when it comes to Jared, but he's never needed one before--but Jared's moved past him to root around in the refrigerator. "Relish tray?" he says, reading off the top of a box. "What the hell is a relish--oh, yeah, never mind. Turkey? No. Wild rice? Yeah, not for breakfast. Ham? Maybe?" A box gets tossed onto the counter; Jensen catches it right before it skids off to the floor, where it'd be fair game. He's already dealt with the dogs enough for one morning. He starts to say that if Jared can find some eggs, they've got a ton of bread and they can work with that, but then Jared all but fucking purrs, "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, come to daddy," and straightens up, smirking and waving around a couple of pie plates.
He doesn't bother with forks or plates, just digs in, a piece of apple in one hand and pumpkin in the other, and, somehow, Jensen manages to get a grip in the 0.2 seconds it takes Jared to turn around and grin at him. "C'mon, man, if you can hit the apple turnovers from the craft table before noon, you can absolutely do apple pie."
"Yeah," Jensen grits out. "Sure." He starts in on a piece of his own--with a fork, thanks--focusing on eating, and clinging to his composure, even when Jared's licking the sticky-sweet remains of apple pie off his palm. He's congratulating himself on holding it together, and working on how to maybe bring up the whole okay-so-we-fucked-now-what subject, when Jared pulls off his sweatshirt and tosses it in the general direction of the laundry room. He's still wearing a t-shirt, still fully clothed, but the shirt's got a little bit of a v-neck, and right at the base of Jared's throat, at the curve of his collarbone, Jensen can see a reddened spot, a tiny not-quite bruise.
And the thing is, Jensen knows that mark, knows it matches up perfectly with his own mouth. He knows how the skin there tastes, and how it feels, and how Jared's voice goes rough and shaky when Jensen bites down right there. For endless seconds he can't make himself tear his eyes off it, and when he does, when he finally looks at Jared's face, there's no way in hell he can pretend there's nothing going on. Jared, though--Jared's staring back at him, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Jen," Jared says, low and hoarse, like he can't get enough air in his lungs, and before Jensen even realizes he's moving, he's got Jared up against the counter, long legs braced on either side of his own and heart slamming hard and fast under Jensen's palm. He gets his other hand tangled in Jared's hair and Jared meets him halfway, his mouth hungry on Jensen's. "Yeah," Jared whispers into Jensen's skin. "God, yeah, Jen, like that." His hands slide up under Jensen's t-shirt, pressing him close, as though Jared's afraid Jensen's going to suddenly break this addiction he's discovered, the one makes him need to taste as much of Jared as he can, and run off. Jensen tightens his hold on Jared's hair and can't help moaning when Jared pushes his hips up into Jensen's. His dick is hard against Jensen's and here they are again, Jensen realizes, ready to fuck in the kitchen and Jensen still doesn't know if that's a good thing.
"Jay," Jensen gasps, shuddering as Jared digs his hands into the back of Jensen's thighs. "Jared, God." He can't make himself say wait, but Jared hears something in his voice. He lets Jensen ease out of the kiss and rest their foreheads together.
"What are we doing, Jay?" Try as he might, Jensen can't make his voice steady, not with the blood pounding through his veins and the ache of wanting strong enough to make him lightheaded.
"Something I really, really want?" Jared settles his hands at Jensen's hips, stilling them, but not letting go. "Something you really, really want, too?"
"Yeah," Jensen acknowledges. "I do. But..."
"Last night, you told me, 'but nothing.'" Jared's very, very still under Jensen's hands, and that's not what Jensen wants, not at all.
"I meant it--mean it," Jensen says, and he doesn't know why they're both whispering. They're alone in the house, with only the dogs for witnesses, and even they're off sacked out somewhere.
"But..." Jared shifts a little, and Jensen stands up straight, so he can hold Jared's eyes.
"But I don't know what we're doing." Jensen licks at his dry lips. "Practically speaking. Real-world stuff."
He thinks he sees Jared's mouth quirk up, but it's there and gone, and Jared's voice is dead serious when he says, "I know you're not really out to very many people, and God knows I'm not any further ahead of you--"
"Josh knows," Jensen says. Whether or not this is just a thing, one time and then maybe nothing, it's Jared, and Jensen needs him to know that he's not going to be Jensen's dirty little secret. "Mackenzie, too."
"Yeah." Jared smiles for real now. "I think Meggie knew before I did. She wasn't surprised when I told her, at least." He rubs his thumb along Jensen's back, the same hypnotic motion as the night before. "You want me to finish?" He says it like he knows how Jensen's heart is jumping and how his gut's twisted up, but he doesn't mention any of that, only waits until Jensen nods. "I don't know how it's all gonna work, I just know I want you. All of you. For real, not just fucking around 'cause we don't ever see anybody else.
"But I..." He stops and takes a deep breath, and that right there maybe should be a clue that he's as tangled up about all this as Jensen, because Jared? Generally can talk for an hour on an average breath. "I kinda sprung it on you, and I... don't know what you want, Jen."
Jensen takes a deep breath of his own, because this--him and Jared, them--is going to change everything, but there isn't a chance in hell he's not going for it. "That works for me," Jensen says. "What you said. Everything you said."
"Okay." Jared slides his hand back up along Jensen's spine, warm and big and solid.
"Okay," Jensen echoes, and relaxes into the touch. Now that it's quieter in his head, the want and desire still there but simmering under the surface, and the off-kilter fear that he was about to fuck up a really good friendship knocked out, he can feel the calluses on Jared's hands, and the strength there, too. His own hand is still resting over Jared's heart, which is strong and solid and big; that much he's always known, and appreciated. It's not much different now--sharper, maybe; more clearly drawn in Jensen's mind.
"I know something else," Jared murmurs after a bit, breaking the quiet. Jensen arches an eyebrow at him, because he knows it pisses Jared off that he can do the one-eyebrow thing and Jared can't. "I need a shower. And whatever it is we're doing, we are so not doing it here." Jared straightens up and and steers Jensen out of the kitchen, pausing at the foot of the stairs to tell the dogs to stay, in the tone he uses maybe once a year with them, the one that says Alpha of the pack, remember? Don't fuck with me.
The shower off the master bedroom is glassed in, with multiple showerheads, all of them set high enough that Jared doesn't have to duck to get under them. That doesn't matter after the first few minutes; once he's clean, Jared slides to his knees, big hands back on Jensen's hips, holding him steady. Jensen braces himself against the wall and lets Jared take his time. Technically, it's not the best blowjob Jensen's ever gotten--Jared hasn't done this a lot, he can tell--but it turns Jensen inside out to look down and watch his dick slide in and out of Jared's mouth.
Jared works him carefully, drawing it out, so that by the end, when he pushes Jensen's legs wider apart and presses two fingers deep inside, Jensen can't do anything but gasp helplessly and come. He's still unsteady on his feet when Jared sits back on his heels, shaking his hair out of his eyes and saying, barely loud enough to be heard over the water, "Want to fuck you, Jen, God, so bad." He climbs back to his feet and pulls Jensen up against him, biting a hard kiss under Jensen's jaw. His dick is full and hard, and he moans as Jensen wraps his hand around it. "Please, fuck, can we do that?"
"Come on." Jensen manages to get them out of the shower without permanent damage, though there are probably a couple of bruises from not navigating past the doors in any kind of coordinated fashion. Jared's bed is huge and the flannel sheets are dark blue and soft against Jensen's skin. Jared fucks him as deliberately as he'd gone down on him, pushing into him slowly, so Jensen feels every inch of Jared's dick, opening him and filling him. He breathes through the stretch and burn, groaning when Jared's thighs force his further apart, burying his face in the pillows and biting down hard when Jared pulls his hips higher and presses deeper into him. Jared doesn't last long, comes gasping Jensen's name like a prayer, but Jensen savors every second.
The wind blows rain in gusts against the windows, and the old-fashioned clock Jared's grandmother sent him for a housewarming present ticks softly in the corner. There's a topsheet that's just as soft as the one that covers the mattress, and a down comforter that Jensen remembers Jared special-ordering that goes over it all. Jared's breath slows gradually, evening out to sleep before he says anything but Jensen's name one last time. Jensen should follow his lead--there's still almost a month to go before they get to mid-season hiatus and the last few episodes are going knock him on his ass--but he can sleep in his dressing room if he has to and no matter what he and Jared are to each other now, he somehow doubts he's going to get Jared draped all over him then. He curls up on his side and watches the muted light play over Jared's face.
***
***
Thanks, as usual, to without_me for fixing all grammar issues AND for the title. =)
Author: topaz119
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: Adult
Word Count: ~3000
Notes: So, last year, right about this time, I ended up writing the story of the year Jared threw a Thanksgiving party for the crew, Any Given Thursday. When the Thanksgiving challenge popped up here, I couldn't resist writing the morning after. It'll probably make a bit more sense if you've read the first one.
Jensen's fairly certain they're going to have an awkward morning--actually, he'll be happy if fucking doesn't screw up the entire weekend. It probably won't mess up everything, but he might just be indulging in a little denial. The last thing he thinks before he lets Jared's slow, even breaths pull him right back down into sleep is that they've talked a little, so maybe it won't be too weird to have been on his knees with Jared's dick down his throat when he wakes up for real, in the cold light of day.
It turns out that he's right, but in all the wrong ways.
Said cold light of day starts off with some ass leaning on the doorbell and Harley going absolutely batshit at the noise and the implied threat to his territory. Jared comes bolt upright, diving off the bed and fumbling for his jeans, yelling for Harley to calm the fuck down. The bed in the guest room isn't all that big and Jared sleeps sprawled out, which means that Jensen's spent the night sleeping on or under various parts of Jared and that--even better--he ends up with one of Jared's elbows planted firmly in his kidney as Jared launches himself off the bed.
It's not a real great start to the day.
The dipshit at the door turns out to be from the catering company, sent by the ever-efficient Karen to take down the tent; he and his guys don't seem particularly concerned that it's not even 9 in the morning. Harley, in return, really doesn't give a crap that the guy's got a legit reason to be there; he still wants blood. Jensen can't say as he blames him. He helps Jared wrestle him back and into the laundry room, and when that doesn't lower the volume much, which sets Sadie off, as well, waves Jared off to take them for a run.
"I can deal with watching these guys," he yells over the noise. Seriously, he'd do a hell of a lot more than keep an eye on the food-based equivalent to a roadie in order to get a little peace.
"Thanks, man," Jared says, stuffing his feet into running shoes and pulling a sweatshirt and then a weatherproof hoodie on over his t-shirt. "I owe you."
"Put it on the tab." Jensen gets Sadie's leash clipped onto her collar. "You know, the one that's up to about half your residuals now."
Jared flips him off as he opens the door to the laundry room, staggering back when Harley tries to make a break for it. At least the non-stop barking has shifted from the Intruder! Intruder! Kill! Kill! pitch to the familiar Whoo! Yeah! Run! Jared takes them out the front door, so they don't get reminded of the strangers in their backyard, and the three of them disappear in the rain and fog. The last Jensen sees of them, the dogs are doing their best to cross their leashes and send Jared sprawling, but hey, Jared's a big boy and he's the idiot who loves dogs, so Jensen's sure he can deal with them. He heads back into the kitchen, thankful that Jared's also a creature of habit, one who doesn't change things around for the hell of it, which means Jensen knows exactly where the coffee beans are stashed in the freezer and doesn't have to hunt around for the grinder or the gold filter for the coffee maker. If he has to be awake and paying attention to the guys in the backyard, he can at least have coffee while he does it.
When he opens the refrigerator to find cream, it's stuffed with little white boxes, labeled in what Jensen assumes is Karen's neat script. From the looks of it, nobody took anything home with them. "At least we won't starve," Jensen says, to the empty kitchen, weirdly quiet without Jared and the dogs to fill it up. He gives up on finding regular food, though; he's a little afraid that if he pulls out one box, they'll all fall out and smother him. He can drink his coffee black. The guys in the back are fast and efficient and ringing the damn doorbell again before Jensen gets much more than a start on his first hit of caffeine. He finds Jared's billfold right next to his keys and loose change on the counter by the phone, but of course there's not enough money in there to tip a barista so he empties out his own wallet and hands over the cash with what he hopes is a polite smile and a thank you.
Jensen's two over-sized mugs of coffee down and thinking about braving the refrigerator again, in search of breakfast, when the back door bangs open and the whirlwind returns. He pushes his mug back away from the edge of the counter and grabs for the towel Jared always has draped over the back of one of the bar stools, heading off Sadie's practiced attempt to go dry herself on the couch. She gives him the big eyes, the ones that beg for understanding and sympathy and promise undying devotion if he'll just let her do this one tiny thing.
"No way," Jensen tells her, rubbing her down briskly. "I'm on to you, girl." She whines at him, but he stands firm, not letting her go until she's relatively dry. As soon as he stands up, she shakes off, clearly hoping to get him with whatever he's missed, and then jogs off without a second glance, definitely done with him for the moment. Harley goes tearing after her.
"You finished torturing my dog?" Jared looks like he could use a good shake himself, hair going in ten different directions, wet and windblown and still breathing hard from the last sprint. Jensen tosses him the towel and doesn't have to fake the shudder when Jared wraps it around his neck to catch the drips. Sadie wasn't all that dirty, and it's not like she's not all over Jared anyway, so he guesses it's not that big of a deal, but still. Jared and his dogs are maybe a little too co-dependent. Then again, the dogs are probably better company than most of L.A. so who's Jensen to judge?
"Be nice or there'll be no sharing of the caffeine." Jensen reaches down the mug that matches the one he's already got on the counter and dumps in the half-bowl of sugar that's required to keep Jared from making a face with every sip.
"Dog?" Jared asks, making grabby hands. "Did somebody say something about a dog? I didn't hear anything."
"Such loyalty," Jensen says, filling up the cup and topping his own off, too. "I'm sure she'd be touched."
"Please," Jared snorts. "Like she wouldn't sell me out for a bone and a corner to chew it in." He takes a gulp from the mug and makes a quiet little noise of satisfaction that suddenly reminds Jensen that they're not just hanging out this morning, that things changed the night before and he doesn't exactly know what it means.
Jensen's sure everything has to be written all over his face--he's never had much of a filter when it comes to Jared, but he's never needed one before--but Jared's moved past him to root around in the refrigerator. "Relish tray?" he says, reading off the top of a box. "What the hell is a relish--oh, yeah, never mind. Turkey? No. Wild rice? Yeah, not for breakfast. Ham? Maybe?" A box gets tossed onto the counter; Jensen catches it right before it skids off to the floor, where it'd be fair game. He's already dealt with the dogs enough for one morning. He starts to say that if Jared can find some eggs, they've got a ton of bread and they can work with that, but then Jared all but fucking purrs, "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, come to daddy," and straightens up, smirking and waving around a couple of pie plates.
He doesn't bother with forks or plates, just digs in, a piece of apple in one hand and pumpkin in the other, and, somehow, Jensen manages to get a grip in the 0.2 seconds it takes Jared to turn around and grin at him. "C'mon, man, if you can hit the apple turnovers from the craft table before noon, you can absolutely do apple pie."
"Yeah," Jensen grits out. "Sure." He starts in on a piece of his own--with a fork, thanks--focusing on eating, and clinging to his composure, even when Jared's licking the sticky-sweet remains of apple pie off his palm. He's congratulating himself on holding it together, and working on how to maybe bring up the whole okay-so-we-fucked-now-what subject, when Jared pulls off his sweatshirt and tosses it in the general direction of the laundry room. He's still wearing a t-shirt, still fully clothed, but the shirt's got a little bit of a v-neck, and right at the base of Jared's throat, at the curve of his collarbone, Jensen can see a reddened spot, a tiny not-quite bruise.
And the thing is, Jensen knows that mark, knows it matches up perfectly with his own mouth. He knows how the skin there tastes, and how it feels, and how Jared's voice goes rough and shaky when Jensen bites down right there. For endless seconds he can't make himself tear his eyes off it, and when he does, when he finally looks at Jared's face, there's no way in hell he can pretend there's nothing going on. Jared, though--Jared's staring back at him, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Jen," Jared says, low and hoarse, like he can't get enough air in his lungs, and before Jensen even realizes he's moving, he's got Jared up against the counter, long legs braced on either side of his own and heart slamming hard and fast under Jensen's palm. He gets his other hand tangled in Jared's hair and Jared meets him halfway, his mouth hungry on Jensen's. "Yeah," Jared whispers into Jensen's skin. "God, yeah, Jen, like that." His hands slide up under Jensen's t-shirt, pressing him close, as though Jared's afraid Jensen's going to suddenly break this addiction he's discovered, the one makes him need to taste as much of Jared as he can, and run off. Jensen tightens his hold on Jared's hair and can't help moaning when Jared pushes his hips up into Jensen's. His dick is hard against Jensen's and here they are again, Jensen realizes, ready to fuck in the kitchen and Jensen still doesn't know if that's a good thing.
"Jay," Jensen gasps, shuddering as Jared digs his hands into the back of Jensen's thighs. "Jared, God." He can't make himself say wait, but Jared hears something in his voice. He lets Jensen ease out of the kiss and rest their foreheads together.
"What are we doing, Jay?" Try as he might, Jensen can't make his voice steady, not with the blood pounding through his veins and the ache of wanting strong enough to make him lightheaded.
"Something I really, really want?" Jared settles his hands at Jensen's hips, stilling them, but not letting go. "Something you really, really want, too?"
"Yeah," Jensen acknowledges. "I do. But..."
"Last night, you told me, 'but nothing.'" Jared's very, very still under Jensen's hands, and that's not what Jensen wants, not at all.
"I meant it--mean it," Jensen says, and he doesn't know why they're both whispering. They're alone in the house, with only the dogs for witnesses, and even they're off sacked out somewhere.
"But..." Jared shifts a little, and Jensen stands up straight, so he can hold Jared's eyes.
"But I don't know what we're doing." Jensen licks at his dry lips. "Practically speaking. Real-world stuff."
He thinks he sees Jared's mouth quirk up, but it's there and gone, and Jared's voice is dead serious when he says, "I know you're not really out to very many people, and God knows I'm not any further ahead of you--"
"Josh knows," Jensen says. Whether or not this is just a thing, one time and then maybe nothing, it's Jared, and Jensen needs him to know that he's not going to be Jensen's dirty little secret. "Mackenzie, too."
"Yeah." Jared smiles for real now. "I think Meggie knew before I did. She wasn't surprised when I told her, at least." He rubs his thumb along Jensen's back, the same hypnotic motion as the night before. "You want me to finish?" He says it like he knows how Jensen's heart is jumping and how his gut's twisted up, but he doesn't mention any of that, only waits until Jensen nods. "I don't know how it's all gonna work, I just know I want you. All of you. For real, not just fucking around 'cause we don't ever see anybody else.
"But I..." He stops and takes a deep breath, and that right there maybe should be a clue that he's as tangled up about all this as Jensen, because Jared? Generally can talk for an hour on an average breath. "I kinda sprung it on you, and I... don't know what you want, Jen."
Jensen takes a deep breath of his own, because this--him and Jared, them--is going to change everything, but there isn't a chance in hell he's not going for it. "That works for me," Jensen says. "What you said. Everything you said."
"Okay." Jared slides his hand back up along Jensen's spine, warm and big and solid.
"Okay," Jensen echoes, and relaxes into the touch. Now that it's quieter in his head, the want and desire still there but simmering under the surface, and the off-kilter fear that he was about to fuck up a really good friendship knocked out, he can feel the calluses on Jared's hands, and the strength there, too. His own hand is still resting over Jared's heart, which is strong and solid and big; that much he's always known, and appreciated. It's not much different now--sharper, maybe; more clearly drawn in Jensen's mind.
"I know something else," Jared murmurs after a bit, breaking the quiet. Jensen arches an eyebrow at him, because he knows it pisses Jared off that he can do the one-eyebrow thing and Jared can't. "I need a shower. And whatever it is we're doing, we are so not doing it here." Jared straightens up and and steers Jensen out of the kitchen, pausing at the foot of the stairs to tell the dogs to stay, in the tone he uses maybe once a year with them, the one that says Alpha of the pack, remember? Don't fuck with me.
The shower off the master bedroom is glassed in, with multiple showerheads, all of them set high enough that Jared doesn't have to duck to get under them. That doesn't matter after the first few minutes; once he's clean, Jared slides to his knees, big hands back on Jensen's hips, holding him steady. Jensen braces himself against the wall and lets Jared take his time. Technically, it's not the best blowjob Jensen's ever gotten--Jared hasn't done this a lot, he can tell--but it turns Jensen inside out to look down and watch his dick slide in and out of Jared's mouth.
Jared works him carefully, drawing it out, so that by the end, when he pushes Jensen's legs wider apart and presses two fingers deep inside, Jensen can't do anything but gasp helplessly and come. He's still unsteady on his feet when Jared sits back on his heels, shaking his hair out of his eyes and saying, barely loud enough to be heard over the water, "Want to fuck you, Jen, God, so bad." He climbs back to his feet and pulls Jensen up against him, biting a hard kiss under Jensen's jaw. His dick is full and hard, and he moans as Jensen wraps his hand around it. "Please, fuck, can we do that?"
"Come on." Jensen manages to get them out of the shower without permanent damage, though there are probably a couple of bruises from not navigating past the doors in any kind of coordinated fashion. Jared's bed is huge and the flannel sheets are dark blue and soft against Jensen's skin. Jared fucks him as deliberately as he'd gone down on him, pushing into him slowly, so Jensen feels every inch of Jared's dick, opening him and filling him. He breathes through the stretch and burn, groaning when Jared's thighs force his further apart, burying his face in the pillows and biting down hard when Jared pulls his hips higher and presses deeper into him. Jared doesn't last long, comes gasping Jensen's name like a prayer, but Jensen savors every second.
The wind blows rain in gusts against the windows, and the old-fashioned clock Jared's grandmother sent him for a housewarming present ticks softly in the corner. There's a topsheet that's just as soft as the one that covers the mattress, and a down comforter that Jensen remembers Jared special-ordering that goes over it all. Jared's breath slows gradually, evening out to sleep before he says anything but Jensen's name one last time. Jensen should follow his lead--there's still almost a month to go before they get to mid-season hiatus and the last few episodes are going knock him on his ass--but he can sleep in his dressing room if he has to and no matter what he and Jared are to each other now, he somehow doubts he's going to get Jared draped all over him then. He curls up on his side and watches the muted light play over Jared's face.
***
***
Thanks, as usual, to without_me for fixing all grammar issues AND for the title. =)