Fic: It could be (just like Heaven); JA/JP, Rated R
Title: It could be (just like Heaven)
Author:
torturemysoul
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R (for sexual content)
Word Count: 1,808 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes/warnings: Flangsty. Beta'd by the lovely
decadentdreams. Feedback is appreciated, and concrit is always welcome.
Summary: In which Jared struggles with an identity crisis and nothing ever goes the way it's supposed to.
i.
Jensen says, “You think this is the way it was supposed to be?”
He’s wrapped up in Jared’s sheets, eyes heavy with exhaustion, arms stretched up toward the ceiling like he’s reaching for something he can’t quite touch, and Jared, he doesn’t believe in Fate or Destiny-he doesn’t think that Jensen does either-but he’s reluctant to say so.
Instead, he thinks of lazy Sunday mornings spent rolling around in sheets (dirty from the night before); the warm feeling that starts in the pit of his stomach slowly travels down his legs to the tips of his toes, and suddenly it all seems like perfection and dreams come true. When they’re tangled up together like this, sweat-soaked and itchy and sated, Jared thinks that Jensen’s just feeling sentimental.
“I don’t know,” Jared finally says. “Thought you didn’t believe in that crap, Jensen.”
Jensen replies, “Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” and Jared doesn’t want to think about that, so he distracts Jensen with slow, lazy kisses and whispered promises he can’t (won’t) keep. And Jensen, with his fingers tangled in Jared’s hair and his lips slick with Jared’s spit, finally stops talking.
By the time they finally drag themselves out of the bedroom, it’s past lunchtime. There are a few messages on Jared’s answering machine; oddly enough, the little red light seems to be blinking in time with Jensen’s heart where it’s beating (slow, steady) under Jared’s fingertips.
“You should check those,” Jensen says, just because he knows Jared won’t.
Jared says, “Later,” and goes to make a pot of coffee.
He does check the messages (eventually) and all five of them are from Sandy, which surprises Jared just as much as it frustrates him. He listens to half of the first message and then deletes the rest of them.
By this time, Jensen’s been gone for hours and the coffee is tepid and bitter and altogether unappealing; when the phone rings again, Jared lets the machine pick it up and pours himself another cup.
ii.
Chad says, “Sandy’s been calling me all day. Tell her to stop.”
Jared rolls his eyes, says, “No way, man,” and promptly loses another game of solitaire. He’s been playing all afternoon, Vegas style, and so far he’s three thousand dollars in debt; to make matters worse, Chad’s been whining into his ear for the past half hour and he shows no sign of stopping.
Jared thinks Jensen should have called by now.
“You have to talk to her eventually,” Chad mumbles, “’cause she’ll never quit.”
“I know,” Jared says, and he begins another game of solitaire.
A few moments of silence pass; then Chad starts humming some nameless tune under his breath, fiddling with something in his kitchen; meanwhile, Jared’s mind is elsewhere, thoroughly occupied with thoughts of Jensen and kissing and fucking.
Then Jared wonders what his momma would say if she knew her baby boy was a big fucking queer.
It goes on for another few minutes before Chad hangs up without saying goodbye and Jared loses another four hundred dollars to his computer.
iii.
Jared loves fucking Jensen more than anything else in the world.
He loves the obscene softness of Jensen’s lips, the hard definition of the muscles in his arms (the way those muscles feel under Jared’s hands when he has Jensen pressed down into the mattress, sweating and panting and swearing a blue streak).
It’s all he can think about now, when he’s wrapped so tightly around Jensen that they’re practically glued together; Jensen’s thrusting back against him, driving Jared higher and higher with every shift of his hips, and Jared pants and groans, “Why are you so fucking pretty?”
And Jensen, he laughs and says, “Ask my momma.”
Jared’s a little disturbed that Jensen would think to mention his momma while he has Jared’s cock up his ass, but then he’s right on the edge of release (so close to coming that he’s starting to see little black spots everywhere), so Jared screws his eyes shut, decides he’ll let it slide (just this once), and comes so hard that his head swims, his knees buckle, and his heart just about bursts out of his chest.
And if Jensen, with his voice hoarse and raspy, says something about love when he finally comes a few seconds later, Jared pretends not to hear it.
Eventually, Jensen settles into Jared’s arms, brainless and boneless and sated, and he says, “Have you called Sandy?”
Jared hasn’t thought of Sandy since yesterday morning; he’d much rather press his face into Jensen’s shoulder and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. But Jensen, who is nothing if not persistent, is watching him expectantly, so Jared says, “I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Jensen blinks, eyelids so slow and heavy with exhaustion that he’s bound to fall asleep at any given moment; his fingers go slack against Jared’s chest and his breath hits Jared’s chin every couple of seconds, tiny puffs of air that soothe the ache somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
And Jared presses a tender kiss to the tip of Jensen’s nose and whispers, “Don’t worry about it.”
iv.
“I think she’s figured it out,” Chad says blandly.
Jared was expecting that-Chad lacks subtlety, and he’s terrible at keeping secrets-but even knowing that does nothing to ease his guilt. The headache he’s been nursing for days begins to throb with a greater intensity, and even when Jensen runs soothing fingers down the back of his neck, the headache only get worse.
“I was going to tell her," he mutters.
But he wasn’t. Chad knows it, too, but he (wisely) changes the subject, and that’s the end of that.
Jensen’s disappeared into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee; Jared stands and shuffles into the kitchen, phone still pressed to his ear while he listens to Chad rambling on about something largely unimportant.
“…and so I’m tempted not to hire another personal trainer.”
To which Jared eloquently says, “You’re such a lazy bastard.”
His mind is still full of thoughts of Sandy and Jensen and the ending of his longest relationship to date. It isn’t regret-not exactly-but Jared isn’t exactly happy with the way things have turned out, not even when Jensen presses a cup of steaming coffee into his hand and gives him a sympathetic look because suddenly this is all Jensen’s fault.
Jared wants to say, I’ve fucked up my entire life for you.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he smiles and thanks Jensen for the coffee, and Chad is still talking about nothing (and everything) and light is seeping through the cracks in the blinds, bathing Jensen in yellow and gold and early-morning sunshine.
v.
Jared picks a fight with Jensen a couple days later.
It’s stupid, something totally unimportant, but there’s yelling and pushing and they both say unforgivable things. Jensen tells Jared that if he loves Sandy so much, he should fuck her instead; Jared tells Jensen that everything is fucked up and it’s his fault. So Jensen throws a coffee mug against the wall (laughs when it shatters) and leaves the apartment, slamming the door resolutely behind him.
And Jared’s left standing in the kitchen, coffee seeping into his socks and tears stinging in his eyes.
Weeks pass before they see each other again; Jensen’s been to visit his parents back in Dallas and Jared’s been moping around his apartment for days on end.
He still hasn’t called Sandy because he doesn’t know what to say to her.
When he finally sees Jensen-a random meeting at the little coffee shop down the street, where Jensen stops in for a blueberry muffin and Jared’s stocking up on coffee grounds for his kitchen-everything is awkward. Jensen won’t look at him.
Jared thinks this may be the end of everything.
“So I guess I’ll see you around,” Jensen says uncomfortably, a blueberry muffin in one hand and an iced tea in the other. “Call me sometime.”
Jared knows he should say something (anything), but he’s tongue-tied and stupid, and even though he misses Jensen-he can’t sleep at night because the bed is too empty and Jensen may only live a few blocks over, but there’s still a million miles between them-he can only watch Jensen walk away.
And just like that, it’s over.
vi.
Another week passes before Jared finally works up the nerve to call Sandy. He gets her voicemail, and while he’s relieved on some level, he can’t say everything that needs to be said if Sandy isn’t listening, so he hangs up and calls Jensen instead.
When Jensen answers the phone, voice rough with sleep, Jared says, “I miss you."
Then, “I’m sorry.”
Jensen’s quiet for a little while, his breathing slow and steady at the other end of the line, and then he mutters, “I know you’re sorry.”
“Come back,” Jared says, “please…”
There’s a lump in his throat that makes his voice hoarse and his words slow and thick like molasses. His heart’s beating so hard that it echoes in his ears; his hands are clammy and his fingers are sore because he’s clutched the edge of the couch so tightly there might be bruises on his fingertips when he pulls his hand away.
“Jared,” Jensen says reluctantly, and then he stops.
Clears his throat, tries again.
He says, “Jared, there are some things you have to figure out for yourself.”
But Jared’s had weeks to think about it, to think about Jensen and Sandy and the end of relationships, and he’s figured out that his relationship with Sandy is really over-that the only thing he can do is apologize and hope she finds the strength to forgive him (someday). And maybe Jared’s momma would go through the roof if she knew her son was a big fucking queer, but Jared’s tired of worrying about other people.
He wants Jensen, and this is the way it’s going to be.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says carefully, “a lot, and I think I’ve got some of it figured out.”
More silence, during which Jared can hear Jensen rummaging around in his kitchen, probably looking for coffee, and then Jensen replies, “That’s nice, Jared.”
So Jared says, “I need you to help me figure out the rest of it.”
Jensen’s surprised. He’s thinking, turning it over in his head-Jared can practically hear the wheels turning over the phone-trying to figure it all out. Maybe Jared should have thought this all out a long time ago, because now he knows this is the way it’s supposed to be between them.
Jensen’s voice is shaky, a little rough around the edges, but he sounds relieved when he says, “Okay.”
Jared says, “Okay.”
And that’s the way it goes.
-
Fin