Love Like an Icelandic Volcano: One
Title: Love Like an Icelandic Volcano
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17 lite
Warnings (overall): Language, Schmoop (My name is Q Blackheart, and I’m a schmoopoholic), Sex
Word Count: 20,500
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys and gals belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No malice intended; all my fics are borne from love everlasting.
Summary:
Apparently, when volcanoes erupt in Iceland, they not only throw the world into chaos, but once the embers burn themselves out and the dust settles, love rises from the ashes.
Read my Author's Notes for a little more background on what inspired this story. This fic is complete and will be posted in four parts during the course of the week.
Comments = Love!
“Jared Padalecki.”
Jared tried unsuccessfully to suppress the full body shiver that voice elicited. The timbre may have deepened over the past ten years, but the intonation was unmistakeable; it was still rich and smoky, cocky and confident, strong, brooking no argument, snide and sarcastic all at once.
Jared would recognise that voice anywhere just by the way it spoke his name.
The face that went with the voice, though, that was another story, Jared realized as soon as he turned around, his breath catching involuntarily in his chest. Gone were the frosted-tipped blond spikes, the silver hoops in his ear and eyebrow, the eyeliner and the punk-inspired attire. Instead, the man who stood before him was impeccably groomed, his brown hair expertly styled and cropped short, his face clean-shaven, and his suit immaculate, right down to the glinting cufflinks at his wrists.
“Jensen Ackles,” he croaked. The other man smiled smugly, and Jared was suddenly very glad that at least some things remained the same; he had just been flashed the trademark Ackles smirk.
“Did you not get the memo that we stop growing after a certain age? I didn’t think writing for a living involved getting hopped up on steroids, Padalecki.”
To say he was stunned would be an understatement. “Since when have you paid attention to anything I’ve done?”
Jensen merely cocked an eyebrow at that, but apparently he wasn’t through with insulting him yet. “You always were a scrawny beanpole, but goddamn. Your momma put Miracle-Gro in your Wheaties?”
“Jealous, Jensen? Didn’t I tell you all that coffee you drank would stunt your growth?” Jared practically snarled, blinking in surprise when Jensen laughed in his face, looking genuinely amused, his green eyes vibrant with mirth, making him seem almost human. Almost.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“Er...”
“Oh, of course,” Jensen intoned haughtily, “Genevieve confirmed, and wherever she will be...”
Jared cleared his throat, mostly to buy time to think of an appropriate response. “That has nothing to do with anything,” he said, even though it had everything to do with everything. Ackles, however, did not need to know that.
“Right, and I’m the Prince of Wales,” Jensen sneered. Jared resisted the urge to punch his lush, smug mouth. Asshole.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” Jared said instead, albeit through gritted teeth. “I would have thought reunions would be beneath your notice.”
“On the contrary,” Jensen insisted, “I’m going to vastly enjoy lording my success over the rest of our classmates.”
“Oh, of course, any opportunity to gloat.”
“I’m flattered you know me so well even after all these years.”
“It has more to do with keeping your enemies closer,” Jared remarked.
Jensen’s smirk widened. “Why Jared, are you flirting with me? All you ever had to do was ask.”
“You wish.” Jared rolled his eyes. “I’m just surprised you made the trek.”
“Yes, it was arduous. An entire ten minute ride on the Tube,” he drawled.
“What?”
Jensen tsked arrogantly. “I live in London now, Jared; I have for many years.”
Jared did a double take. “I thought you moved stateside after ‘A’ Levels? You hated it here!”
“I changed my mind.”
Jared felt his own smug smirk forming on his face. “Danneel Harris didn’t want you, huh?”
Jensen’s face turned stony, and Jared was momentarily sorry to have brought up the past like that, but whatever apology he was going to make died on his lips with Jensen’s next words. “Well, at least she knew I existed.”
“And she still didn’t want you,” Jared retaliated. “I always thought she was a smart girl, and apparently she had good taste too.”
“Well, well,” Jensen sneered, “have your balls finally dropped, Jared? It’s about bloody time.”
“You asshole,” Jared growled, his hands fisting in Ackles’ suit.
“Jared!” An irate female voice snapped from somewhere in the vicinity of his elbow. Sandy.
“Aw, shit!” Jared muttered, just as Jensen grasped his wrists and pulled his hands away, indignantly smoothing down his lapels.
“You’re crushing a Saville Row suit,” he gritted out, and Jared gaped.
“Who the fuck are you, and what have you done to Jensen Ackles?”
“Enough, both of you,” Sandra McCoy warned, punching Jared in the bicep with way more might than someone so small should logically have. “Hardly five minutes in London, and you two are already at each other’s throats.”
“He started it,” Jensen whined playfully and Sandy threw him a decidedly unamused look... but then, her entire face morphed into the widest smile Jared had ever seen.
“Oh my God, Jensen! You grew up all gorgeous!” Sandy squealed, throwing her arms around Jensen and hugging him tight.
“You’re not too bad yourself, Sandra Dee,” Jensen told her with a genuine smile and a kiss to the top of her head. “How’ve you been, baby?”
Sandy’s face lit up. “Good. Great, actually! I’m dating.” She eyed Jensen and bit her lip, her next words almost apologetic, and Jared had no idea why. “It’s serious.”
“Congratulations!” Jensen replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek too, and when in the hell had he gotten so… demonstrative? He frowned slightly when Sandy continued to look at him, as if waiting for him to continue. “What?”
“It’s Chad.”
Jensen blinked. “Then how can it be serious? Dear God, how can you be serious about Mayhem? You’re brilliant, he’s scum.”
“Hey!” Jared exclaimed, insulted on behalf of his best friend. Chad may be scum, but he was scum who loved Sandy.
Sandy shrugged delicately. “He’s scum who loves me.” Jared laughed at how synchronous their thoughts were.
“Well,” Jensen hedged, looking sceptical. “If you’re certain. Is he here?”
“Yeah, he had a little too much to drink on the flight over, so he’s sleeping it off. He’ll join us for dinner.” Sandy beamed up at Jensen and impulsively hugged him again. “It’s so good to see you, Jensen. London seems to be agreeing with you.”
“Wait,” Jared asked her, “you knew he lived here? You knew he was going to be here? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Sandy tossed him a look that spoke volumes and Jared had the grace to flush slightly. “Jensen and I have kept in touch over the years.”
“Funny how you neglected to mention that, too,” Jared accused.
“Just because we’re best friends doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything, Jared.”
“Yes, but to be friends with this idiot? He made our lives miserable in school!”
“No,” Sandy clarified, “he made your life miserable.”
“Yes,” Jensen nodded, “do talk about me as if I’m not standing right here.”
”Meanwhile, he made my life that much brighter just by being in it,” Sandy quipped, flashing an impish grin in Jensen’s direction, and the man laughed in response, his entire face lighting up, the image socking Jared right in the solar plexus. How… odd. “Have you guys seen anyone else yet?”
“Mike and Tom arrived last night,” Jensen informed them, “we had dinner.”
“Are they…?” Sandy asked, and apparently, even Jensen knew enough to know what she was talking about.
“Yes,” he sighed, “still oblivious.”
Sandy huffed. “They’re such idiots.”
Jensen nodded slowly, looking strangely regal. His gaze darted in Jared’s direction for a split second before focusing on Sandy again. “Sometimes it’s hard to see what’s been right in front of you the whole time.”
“Believe me, I know,” Sandy commiserated. “Case in point: Chad Michael Murray.” Then she shot Jared an enquiring look. “ETA on Genevieve?”
Jared flushed outright this time, studiously avoiding Jensen’s eyes. “I’m not sure…”
“Oh, come now, Padalecki,” Jensen drawled, caustic and pompous, making Jared want to inflict bodily harm again, “surely you have her entire itinerary memorized.”
Before he could respond, Sandy cut in, looking a little flushed herself. “You know, Jensen, you’re really rocking that English accent. Sexy.”
Jared would die before ever admitting it out loud, but Sandy made an excellent point. None of them had ever picked up the accent while they had lived in London, back during their school days, but it appeared that the years since then - it was their tenth year after ‘A’ levels, after all - had given Jensen a melodic meld of the Texan and British accent that was like honey to his ears, dulcet and erotic all at once, regardless of the spite in his words.
And wait… what?
Jared blinked, snapping himself out of it. He did not just think of erotic and Jensen in the same sentence. He did not. Moving on.
It was then that he realized that both Jensen and Sandy were looking at him expectantly, and what had they been talking about? He gave up the pretence. “Right. Genevieve. She’ll be arriving this afternoon.”
“So you’ve kept in touch with her over the years, have you?” Jensen asked, politeness personified, even though Jared knew better.
“Yes. Some.”
“And still nothing in the romance department?” He did that annoying tsking thing again. “I would have thought you had more prowess than that.”
Jared gritted his teeth. “I’m not discussing this with you.”
“Perhaps you should,” Jensen declared smoothly, looking Jared up and down with an assessing gaze, his eyes widening slightly once he was done with his perusal, and not in a good way. Jared bristled; what the hell was wrong with what he was wearing? And also, he had just come off a trans-Atlantic flight! Sue him for not looking as put together as he had been at the beginning of that flight. “You could certainly use all the help you can get.”
It took an extreme effort of will to stop him from mauling Jensen right then and there in the elegantly furnished lobby of the Hyatt Regency. “I do just fine on my own,” Jared growled.
“Yes,” Jensen remarked, “I can see by the way you’re flaunting the lovely Genevieve on your arm.” He paused for effect, the bastard. “Oh, wait… my mistake.”
Sandy heaved a huge sigh and stepped in front of Jensen before Jared could even move. “As much as I enjoy the two of you going at it like old times, I’m jet-lagged, and all this verbal warfare with its undertones of unresolved sexual tension is giving me a headache.” Jared sputtered at that, while Jensen remained strangely silent and Sandy merely smiled. “I’m going up for a nap. You two behave.”
And yeah, right. As if he had any intention of spending another second in Jensen’s scintillating company. See? Jared could do sarcasm too, damn it. He just wasn’t able to do it out loud and direct it at Jensen at the appropriate times. The annoying git. “I’m heading up too.”
“And I have to be back at work in a bit,” Jensen told them as he adjusted his already perfectly aligned cuffs, looking about as unruffled and debonair as one could get. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” And with that, a final kiss for Sandy and an absent nod in Jared’s direction, he left, striding purposefully out of the marble-floored lobby, his gait more graceful than any bow-legged gait had the right to be, as he exited through the glass doors before sliding into the back seat of a sleek car, the doorman closing the door after him just before it drove off.
“He’s certainly different,” Jared couldn’t help saying, although why that had impressed upon him so much, he would never understand. Perhaps it was just the shock of it all: uncouth to cultured in ten years. Huh. Maybe Jensen could help him get Genevieve. Suddenly comprehending just exactly what he was thinking, he gave his head a vigorous shake; he must be more jet-lagged than he had first thought.
They walked to the elevators in silence but when the doors closed behind them, he turned to find Sandy assessing him quietly, a sphinx-like look on her face that was never a good omen of things to come.
“What?”
“Just…” She sighed. “Keep that mind of yours open, all right? Try and see what’s staring you in the face this time around.” And as if she had timed her cryptic comment perfectly, the elevator doors pinged open and she strode out with a final pat to his cheek, leaving him flummoxed and alone.
And with his overactive imagination, that combination did not bode well for his immediate future.
Jared dressed carefully for dinner; he had an impression to make. He hadn’t seen Genevieve in over a year, and even though they still kept in touch by email and the occasional phone call, this time was different. This time, there was nothing standing in the way of him finally making his move.
He was a success now, after all. His first novel had done exceedingly well: top three on USA Today’s best-selling author’s list, top-ten in the New York Times. His triumph was better than he could have ever imagined, and it had fuelled his muse to pen a second volume; same characters, different case. That was already with the publishers, and he was half-way through writing the third in the series. So, life was good. Promising. And now that he was settled, it was time to focus on his personal life. Time to focus on getting Genevieve to see him as more than just a friend.
Finally satisfied that he was at least dressed the part of the successful author, never mind that he still felt like a giant dork more often than not, Jared left his room and made his way downstairs to the hotel’s posh restaurant, well rested after his nap and with a whole slew of insults at the ready to hurl in Jensen’s direction at the slightest provocation. Really, he wrote for a living, one would think that he would be able to match wits with the man better, but Jensen had always, always, rubbed him the wrong way. His scathing comments and supremely unaffected attitude on top of his stunning good looks (which of course Jared had noticed, he was neither blind nor stupid), had never failed to leave Jared at a loss for words, stammering for a comeback in the face of that cocky smirk. Jared seethed at the mere memory of it all.
Now - and damn the passage of time for being so kind to Jensen, both in appearance and in demeanour - he was a tad overwhelming, and Jared fervently hoped he wouldn’t have to sit next to the man during dinner.
It turned out that he needn’t have worried in that regard; Jensen hadn’t even arrived yet. In fact, neither had Genevieve, Misha and Vickie Collins, or Aldis Hodge and Beth Reisgraf. Mike Rosenbaum and Tom Welling walked up just as he sat down and while he was happy to see them, he, Sandy and Chad shared a speaking look when they both took seats at opposite ends of the table, Tom with them, while Mike chose a seat closer to Steve Carlson, Chris Kane and Alona Tal. Apparently, not only was Tom and Mike’s epic love still unrequited, with both of them oblivious as ever, just as Jensen had mentioned, but they were also having another one of their infamous silent stand-offs.
And really, Jared huffed out a breath, his hair fluffing out over his forehead before settling again, he was not thinking about Jensen any more tonight unless he absolutely had to.
They had just given their drinks order to the waiter when Aldis and Beth joined them, Jared listening and contributing to the conversation as required, even though his entire body was pulled taut, awaiting the inevitable.
A nudge to his foot from Sandy was what actually heralded him to the arrival of Genevieve Cortese, and Jared’s breath caught as he looked at her from across the table. That she was gorgeous was a given - the girl had been born that way - but there was something absolutely ethereal about her now; she was practically glowing golden under the restaurant’s mellow incandescent lighting.
“Genevieve,” he managed with a hug, when it was his turn to greet her, his eyes sliding to the row of seats that had been left obligingly unoccupied (probably Sandy’s doing) at his right; he hoped she would take the one next to him.
“Jared,” she replied with a wide smile, “it’s so good to see you after all this time! How’ve you been?”
“Great,” Jared responded, a little tongue-tied, and irritated because Sandy was doing her level best to impale him with her pointy little elbow. As Genevieve turned away to talk to some of the others, he turned a not-so-friendly glare in Sandy’s direction, startled to see her wide-eyed gaze directed squarely at the other end of the table. “What?” he whispered.
Sandy didn’t say a word, and Jared looked back at Genevieve, who was chatting animatedly to Alona and Beth, all three of their voices becoming shriller and more excited as she raised her left hand and showed them… Oh.
Jared’s knees buckled and he fell into his seat, only now seeing the man standing with the love of his life. At her side. Where Jared was supposed to be.
The man was her fiancé Mark, he heard her say. And oh, dear God. He pulled in a shaky breath, dragging his gaze away from the happy couple to focus on the elegantly folded napkin in front of him. It looked like an origami swan. He blinked. Chad reached out and squeezed his shoulder from across the back of Sandy’s chair, while Sandy rested her hand on his thigh, supportive and comforting. Jared stayed silent. What could he say, really? He’d been completely blindsided.
It took Misha walloping him on the back to snap him out of it. “Hey, big guy!” Misha flashed him a grin that he rotely returned.
“Hey, Misha,” he greeted, standing to kiss the man’s wife. “Hi Vickie. You look wonderful.”
“Thanks, Jared,” Vickie replied with a smile that lit up her pretty features.
“Yeah; thanks, Jared,” Misha quipped, giving her a squeeze before they too made the rounds to say hello to everyone, finally coming to sit by him, Misha at his side. “Have you seen Jensen yet?”
Alona replied before he had a chance to. “He just walked in.”
Jared’s jaw clenched. He could hardly wait to hear what Jensen had to say about this new development with Genevieve. Not, he thought childishly, stifling the urge to pout into his chardonnay. Well, at least he would be sitting far away from the man for the rest of the night.
“Jensen,” Misha called out just then, before Jared’s sigh of relief was even halfway out of his mouth, “saved you a seat.” Misha and Vickie got up and moved a seat down the table, leaving the space beside Jared empty. Jared glared at Misha, but the annoying idiot just laughed in his face, a teasing glint in his blue eyes. “This way the rest of us get dinner and a show!”
Everyone, including Jensen, chuckled at that - and yeah, their enmity was no secret, and their epic verbal battles in the past had been fodder for much amusement on the part of their mutual friends - but Jared just wasn’t up to it tonight. He leaned close to the man next to him as soon as he was settled in his seat. “I know the temptation is probably killing you right now,” he whispered harshly, his mouth so close to Jensen’s ear that he thought his lips may have brushed against Jensen’s warm skin. The idea was bothersome, so he ignored it. “But let’s not, okay? Just don’t. I’m not in the mood.”
Jensen merely looked at him for a few seconds, the air between them thick with tension, at least on Jared’s part. Then Jensen nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, before turning away to talk to someone else. And true to their tacit agreement, not a word passed between them during the entire meal.
While they waited on dessert, though, the hotel’s Executive Chef stopped by the table. “Mr. Ackles,” he greeted Jensen jovially. “I was told you were here. What brings you to our humble establishment?”
Jared caught Jensen’s grin before he rose to shake hands with the other man; there was nothing even remotely humble about the Hyatt’s in-house restaurant. And apparently, Jensen had retained all the manners his momma had drilled into him; they just seemed to get conveniently forgotten when he was dealing with Jared.
“Wagner. Excellent meal.”
“Danke,” the German chef thanked him, his blue eyes twinkling at Jensen from underneath the mess of blonde bangs across his forehead. “Is this a special occasion?”
“Ten year reunion after high school,” Jensen supplied, “my friends are staying here.”
“Ah, very special then,” the chef beamed, motioning the maître d’hôtel over. “Complimentary champagne for the table, Alfonse,” he told him, “and dessert is on me.” Jensen thanked him and they chatted for a few minutes, Jared sneaking a look at Jensen’s profile every now and then.
He still couldn’t quite reconcile the old Jensen and the new Jensen in his head; it was like an algorithm that refused to compute. Where had this suave, poised, obviously successful man come from? Certainly not from the bratty kid and the bane of Jared’s existence that he had once been. The discord was not only perplexing but also hard to come to terms with: did this mean that Jared now had to be - both literally and figuratively - the bigger man here and try to mend their fences?
He sighed at the idea; just the thought of it exhausted him. No matter, a few more days in his company and Jared would never have to see the man again. Now that, he could live with.
When Jensen sat down again, Sandy leaned over to smile at him. “Helps to have you around, huh?”
“He was returning a favour,” he explained, his tone as suggestive as the lascivious little smirk on his face. “The hotel business is like that, lots of favours change hands.”
Suddenly, Jared had to lean back in his chair to get a better look at the chef’s retreating back. The man was tall, built and fucking huge. Not as huge as Jared but then again, not many men were. Huh. He blinked, turning to find Jensen studying him with interest, that stupid, smug smile on his face again.
Mike laughed from across the table. “Jesus, then who’d you have to blow to get us all rooms at a hundred pounds a night? Here at the Hyatt, no less. What is that, a fifth of the regular rate?”
While Jared’s irrational brain was suddenly flooded with images of Jensen’s mouth wrapped around some lucky sod’s cock, Jensen merely shrugged, brash smile firmly in place. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Once his brain was back online, Jared leaned in closer to Jensen, although why he was initiating this conversation was a mystery even to him. It’s not like he was interested in anything to do with Jensen after all. Not one iota. “What exactly is it you do for a living?”
Jensen’s eyebrow rose in an elegant arch. “Jared… Is this the beginning of an actual civil conversation between us? Tell me, for I may need to brace myself with something a little stronger than the bubbly.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Just want to make sure you’re not working for the English equivalent of the mob.”
Jensen laughed, and the sound, deep and melodious, attracted the attention of not only everyone at their table, but some of the patrons around them as well. And there was Jensen in a nutshell for you: whether in ripped jeans and studded leather jacket or an impeccable Saville Row suit, he tended to hold people in his thrall. It was maddening; always had been, especially if you were the giant clumsy oaf that everyone gawked at who was incapable of walking without tripping over his own two feet.
“Nothing quite so dramatic, I assure you,” Jensen replied, all of his attention focused solely on Jared, “I work at the Jumeirah Carlton Tower Hotel in Knightsbridge.”
“The really posh, exorbitant one?” Jared asked, and Jensen nodded benignly. “What do you do there?”
“I’m the General Manager.” This time Jared nodded, trying not to be impressed. Well, that explained a lot. Jensen’s entire bearing had changed and it was most likely because he had a reputation to uphold: not only that of the hotel, but also of his office. Awesome, Jared thought snidely, yet another triumph that Jensen could lord over him.
Still, as the evening went on, that dichotomy of old and new Jensen became all at once both glaring and negligible. The roguish charm was still in firmly place, as was the cocksure attitude, but more than that, Jensen looked comfortable in his own skin in a way that Jared had never managed to accomplish despite all his success. And when he left the table after all was said and done, he realized that, to his surprise, not once during dinner had he thought of Genevieve.
It was just that - the manner in which he had pushed Genevieve from his mind so easily - that found him detouring away from the elevators and going outside the hotel instead. He walked a little way further and perched on one of the enormous planters that decorated the hotel’s front entrance, the frond of the palm behind him tickling his cheek with the passing breeze.
He felt rather than saw Jensen’s presence next to him only a few minutes later.
“I thought you were going for a drink with Tom and Mike.”
“I was, but they were getting all Neanderthal with each other again, reduced to grunting and growling when they could have been using the English language instead. It was getting tiresome.” He trailed off with a sigh, sounding a bit concerned despite the lackadaisical slant to his words and Jared got the gist. Mike and Tom in the midst of one of their battles was not a fun place to be. They fought dirty and every jab, verbal or outright physical, was carefully selected to inflict the most emotional damage.
Even in their most foul moods, he and Jensen had never clashed like that.
“Why are you here?” Jared asked as Jensen sat next to him, the warmth of his body permeating Jared’s skin even though they sat almost a foot apart.
“It may be a monarchy, but that’s mainly for show. Otherwise, it’s a free country. I can go wherever I want.”
“You are so annoying.”
“You are so cute when you’re annoyed.” The smile on his face, when Jared turned to look, was gently teasing. For some reason, it made Jared’s eyeballs prickle.
“Can we not do this, please? We’re adults, Jensen. I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Pity. I’ve always enjoyed our little tussles.”
“I just want to be alone for a bit, all right? You can humiliate me and rub my face in it tomorrow, and I promise I will take it like a man and reciprocate in kind. Then you can aggravate me, and I will likely hit you, and we can go on with our lives again, happily oblivious to one another’s existence. At least until the next reunion, if you deign to honour us with your esteemed presence again.”
“Still bitchy, huh? I find the familiarity in that strangely comforting,” Jensen retorted, before shaking his head, seemingly chiding himself. “Look, I just wanted to say, for whatever it’s worth… I’m sorry. That you didn’t get what you came here for. Your happy ending.”
“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that you give a fuck whether or not I get Genevieve, do you?”
“I don’t. Give a fuck, that is.”
Jared clenched his jaw, and cast his eyes heavenward, seeking divine intervention. That, or a lightening bolt to conveniently strike in Jensen’s general vicinity. “Why do I even bother? For that matter, why do you?”
“You don’t get it, do you? The reason you’re not with Genevieve is because you don’t want it enough.”
He sputtered at that. “Are you insane, Jensen? I’ve been in love with her since I first met her.”
“And exactly what have you done about it, other than traipse after her, mooning with those great big soulful eyes of yours like a little lost puppy?”
“I do not moon!” Jared shouted. Jensen’s only response was a raised eyebrow, and they way he was currently feeling, he would have paid the entirety of his next book advance for the opportunity to shave it off Jensen’s annoying, absurdly perfect face. “I don’t moon. I just…”
“Lamented then,” Jensen supplied, “like a Shakespearean hero, and a doomed one at that.”
“Was there a point to this conversation? Other than you trying to make me commit justifiable homicide?”
“You had her on a pedestal, Jared. We all did, really, seeing as how she was the Ambassador’s daughter and had every privilege that came with that, in addition to her stunning good looks and her pleasant personality,“ Jensen expanded. “It was up to you to level the playing field and you never did.” Jared just stared at him, not quite sure how to react to that given that his blood was starting to simmer. “You had all those years when we were in school, and you’ve had these ten years in the interim. If you wanted it enough, you would have done something about it.”
“I was a dork in school; she never would have given me the time of day. But being the sweet person she is, at least we were friends…”
“A smart man would have built on that…”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jared snarled. “When I was free, she wasn’t, and when she was free… I wasn’t! Okay yeah, I could have done something then, but sometimes other things got in the way, all right? Life got in the way; my career, my family. I know it may seem shocking to you, but I do have a life apart from…,” Jared paused. Apart from his obsession with Genevieve? Yeah. He wasn’t about to admit to that, even though Jensen was smart enough to fill in the blanks. “I have a life, and I have responsibilities, and sometimes they take precedence over love.”
“Nothing trumps love.”
“Seriously, who are you?” Jared gaped at him. “Can you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth right now?”
“People change, Jared,” Jensen said quietly. “It’s called growing up.” Implying of course that Jared was still a child. Message received, loud and clear, Jared thought as he got up and turned to go without another word.
Jensen stalled him with a hand on his wrist, his fingers holding firm. It made him shiver a little, but he ignored it, choosing instead to stare down at Jensen, keeping his face inscrutable to conceal the maelstrom inside. Jensen’s mouth tipped up disdainfully at one end, but his eyes were clear, free of derision, sympathetic even.
“Are you still going to give it a go with her?”
Jared frowned mightily. “How could you even think that? Unlike some people, I have scruples! She’s engaged. And did you see her? She’s fucking happy, Jensen, I would never…” He stopped when his voice cracked over the words, pain searing into his chest. “I would never stand in the way of her happiness.”
“Nothing’s set in stone yet,” Jensen quietly reminded him.
“That really big, sparkly stone on her finger begs to differ.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Jared…” Jensen sighed softly, his grip on Jared’s hand tightening as his gaze dropped to the pavement at their feet. “Call me a romantic but…”
Jared snorted inelegantly. “That is the last thing I would ever call you,” he scorned.
“Be that as it may,” Jensen continued undeterred, now looking right at him, his eyes pinning Jared in place, making his chest feel tight. “But I believe that if something is meant to be then everything around you: the universe, whatever deity you believe in, Mother Nature, the Fates, your fellow human beings… it’s as if they conspire to always bring you back to that one person. It’s inescapable. You can fight it, but I think you’ll find that it’s always there at the back of your mind, pushing into your thoughts when you least expect it, niggling away at you until you’re forced to confront it. Do something about it.” Jensen paused and they studied each other in the quiet dimness of the street lights, Jared’s breath faltering as Jensen’s thumb moved just a fraction of an inch against his pulse. “You’ve had ample opportunity with Genevieve, and nothing has ever happened. Have you considered the fact that perhaps, that’s because nothing’s meant to happen? That perhaps deep down inside, it’s not really what you want? That you just want it because you’ve been wanting it for a long time, and you don’t know how to want anything else?”
Jared breathed, deep gusts through his nose. Yes, he had considered that possibility. Yes, just yes, to everything Jensen had just said. He gulped, swallowing past the lump in his throat, suddenly uncomfortable in his skin and with Jensen’s silent, oddly reassuring, scrutiny.
It was too much for him to handle, and as was always the case in his dealings with Jensen, Jared felt his hackles rise. “Don’t presume to know anything about my life, you arrogant prick,” he growled. “You know nothing about me! And for what it’s worth, Jensen?” Jared mockingly echoed the other man’s earlier words. “I don’t want you to.”
