Jared and the Undead Bartender 3/5
J2 RPS AU
NC-17
Part 3 of 5
Master post
Art
They go downstairs to the bar, where Danneel has things well under control. She mixes Jared a mystery mocktail and brings him a plate of nachos, and he and Jensen sit at the bar and do the crossword and talk about everything and nothing, like normal people.
Jared doesn't ask any more vampire questions, realizing that Jensen would probably rather answer them in private and not at the bar where Danneel or anyone else could hear. But on the way home his head buzzes with them - How did you keep people from finding out? How hard is it to change your identity and leave your stuff to yourself? How can you keep making friends, knowing they're all going to die on you? Do you ever think about turning someone else, so you'll have company? Don't you miss the daylight? Don't you miss food? Is that why your apartment's always a little cold? What does blood taste like? How did you used to do business if you couldn't go outside during the day? Did people just always come to you? How many people have you eaten? Will you show up on a selfie?
He's unlocking the door of his apartment when he realizes that Jensen's thermos, which he said contained reaper infused vodka, was probably full of blood. Blood and vodka. Now he's grossed out. But he's not worried about Jensen biting him, and as long as that's true, he can be cool about the blood-drinking.
It's not long before he realizes how this changes his New Mexico vacation plans. They can't fly. But Jared could rent an RV or a camper with blackout curtains so Jensen won't accidentally turn into a crispy critter. Misha would never forgive him if Jensen went up in flames on the road.
Jared wonders if Jensen even knows how to drive. Can you take driving lessons in the middle of the night? How would he get a license? He can't take his driving test during the day, and he can't go to the DMV to get his picture taken. They're not open that late, and the cameras might not even work on him. But it doesn't matter. Jared can drive all the way to New Mexico and back if necessary. He drove from Texas to North Carolina, and from North Carolina to Massachusetts, and at least Jensen can talk to him and keep him awake.
It's not a terrible plan. Jared looks up RV parks and campgrounds and nearby places to rent a camper. He reads up on pepper farms in New Mexico, not just the one with the experimental superhots. He asks Chad if there are better or worse times to visit, and when Chad hedges he says he's bringing his mystery bartender friend.
At the same time Jared is planning the trip to New Mexico, he's thinking more and more seriously about quitting his job and going freelance. He wants to do something because it's what he likes, something he's choosing out of desire and not desperation. He took the job in Boston because he wanted to get out of Durham and it was the first opportunity that popped up. But now he can make career decisions from a place of comfort, at a point in his life when his current situation is actually okay.
The money insecurity makes him a little anxious, but he has savings and he knows he can find work if he hustles. Misha no doubt knows someone, or at least knows someone who knows someone, who can help. Jared just has to ask.
A timeline coalesces in his head: Quit job. Take road trip. Go freelance.
In the meantime, he keeps going to work and fixing computer problems for accountants and auditors and biting his tongue over the home office's bureaucratic solutions to simple problems. He hangs out in Abigail's. He chats with Misha and occasionally Vicky. He watches movies in Jensen's apartment. He even manages to coax Jensen out of the building once to see a late show at the movie theater on Boston Common. Jensen tells him a little bit about Texas in the early decades of its statehood, and it's almost the end of June when Jared has enough travel information to bring up the road trip.
“You want us to do what?” is Jensen's response. Jared waited until movie night to mention it, so they can argue in private. He brought it up even before Jensen could tell him what the movie selection is. “I can't leave the bar that long.”
“Isn't that why you hired Danneel?” Jared points out. “She'll work for a week and then you can close for a week and say you're remodeling. You're not open a lot of hours during the summer anyway. You should change that, by the way, now that you have someone to serve drinks when it's still light out.”
“I'll think about it. Where did this road trip come from?”
“Remember I said Misha told me about the pepper farmer in New Mexico who's trying to breed the hottest peppers in existence? He suggested we take a vacation out there, because if anyone could get you to leave the building, I could.”
Jensen chuckles. “He's not quite wrong. But I can't go away for weeks on end. Even if Danny can watch the bar the whole time, I have tenants, remember?”
“So ask her to keep an eye on the place. Landlords go on vacation all the time.”
“And if there's an emergency?”
“You have a phone. Tell your tenants you're going to be out of town for two weeks but they can call if there's an emergency. How often do they need you, anyway? We'll go during the middle of the month, so you'll still be around to collect rent.”
“When were you thinking about going?”
“Next month.”
Jensen blinks at him. “Next month is in a week and a half.”
“I know. I'll go to Misha and Vicky's Fourth of July party, we'll see the fireworks, and a couple days later, we'll leave.”
“What about your job? Can you take two weeks?”
“I'm quitting. Misha says he and Vicky can get me some freelance gigs.”
“You're kidding.”
“No, I'm not. I just want to do something because I want to do it, you know? I think I'm ready to be my own boss. I'm nervous about it but I've got some savings and I think it'll be okay. Besides, I told Misha I could volunteer some hours for him, so I'll be putting some good into the world too.”
“I'm proud of you.”
“Thanks. I'm proud of me too. So you think the road trip will be fun?” He puts on his best eager-puppy face. “You can see the desert at midnight. You can meet the pepper farmer in person! And eat her peppers! And spend two weeks with me.” He grins. Jensen rolls his eyes. “I've been taking pest lessons from Misha, just so you know.”
“I don't think I can close the bar for that long. I really can't just take off on a whim.”
“It's not a whim. I've been thinking about it since Memorial Day. I mapped out a route. I made reservations at campsites. I even emailed the pepper farmer and asked how she felt about visitors. Her name's Alona, by the way. You can have a cooler just for your blood. I won't even complain if you want to bring some of that satanic kimchi with you.”
“What about the camper? What's your plan there?”
“Blackout curtains.”
Jensen glances at the window, at his own curtains pulled tight against the sunset.
“We'll do most of our driving at night,” Jared goes on. “During the day you'll just stay inside the camper with the shades drawn. We can do it without you turning into charcoal.”
Jensen stands, walks around the room, sits back down. “I don't know.”
“I bought an actual map and stuck pins in it. My roommate thinks I'm nuts. I mapped it on Googlemaps too.” He pulls out his phone, realizes the screen is too small to get a good idea of the route, and puts the phone on the coffee table. “I'll get it to you. Ask Danneel if she can cover for you. I'm serious. It will be good for both of us.”
“I'll think about it.”
It's the best Jared is going to get right now. He's okay with it.
On July Fourth he brings another bottle of white wine to Misha and Vicky's party. They have a lot of the same guests that they had for Memorial Day, plus some small children. The party itself is very similar, with Misha manning the grill for a while and Vicky circulating and schmoozing, and then the two of them trading places. Jared has given notice at the accounting firm. He doesn't have any freelance or contract work lined up yet, but he's about to go on vacation - and he's decided that he's driving to New Mexico and Arizona anyway, whether Jensen comes or not - and has more immediate things to think about.
One of those things is why Jensen hasn't made a decision about the road trip yet. Jared doesn't know why he's still waffling, and is out of ways to convince him to go.
He'll go over to Jensen's after the party and when the sun sets they'll walk down to the Esplanade to watch the fireworks. And in the meantime, Misha and Vicky have nice friends, the food is delicious, and Jared is having a good time.
He tries not to drink too much, but the beer is cold and he likes to support local breweries. He feels a little wobbly by the time the party breaks up and he heads over to Abigail's, but it's a good wobbly, a pleasant high. In two days he'll be unemployed, he has a vacation planned with his best friend without knowing for sure if his best friend is even coming with him, he doesn't know if this freelance thing will work, and he doesn't think he's ever been happier.
The sun is slowly falling, setting the west-facing windows of the buildings on fire. The sidewalks are crowded with people and dogs and strollers, everything is bright and beautiful, he's full of beer and barbecue, and why isn't Jensen letting him in? Oh right, he needs to press the buzzer. Knocking won't do anything. The door to the building clicks open and he bounces up the stairs.
“Okay, I'll go with you,” is the first thing Jensen says when he opens his apartment door.
“Fantastic!” Jared throws his arms around Jensen's neck. Jensen laughs.
“How much did you drink?” he asks.
“Enough. Vicky plied me with Night Shift. I'm a little drunk.”
“Just a little.” Jensen grins. “Come in.” He waves Jared into the kitchen, where two shot glasses are sitting on the table along with a bottle of what is presumably vodka, because there are slices of hot peppers and some seeds floating in it. Jared looks at it apprehensively, remembering his previous experience with Jensen's experimental pepper vodka. Jensen pours each of them a shot and hands Jared a glass.
“Um,” Jared says, and then “I'm not that drunk.”
“Cheers,” Jensen says, clinking the glasses together. He downs his shot, then takes Jared's and downs that as well. “To road tripping.”
“Does that do anything?” Jensen said that food doesn't nourish him, so would alcohol have any effect?
“Just wait.” Jensen retrieves a thermos from the fridge, pours the contents into a glass, sticks the glass in the microwave, nukes it for ten seconds, and pours it back into the thermos. He adds some vodka, shakes it up, and sips it. He sighs with pleasure. “I have to drink it with blood to feel anything. It doesn't seem fair to always be the sober one at the party.”
Jared makes a noise of disgust. He can't help it. Knowing Jensen has to drink blood is one thing. Having to see it is something else entirely.
“Don't knock it. It keeps me alive.” Jensen grins. “I didn't think you'd be hungry when you got here, but I have hot dogs, buns, and potato salad downstairs for later, and I've got beer and soda up here - Sam Adams, of course - I even baked you an apple pie.”
“Really? You didn't have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. I can even douse it in hot sauce and eat it with you. What do you want to do until the fireworks start? I rented 1776 - I know you're not a fan of musicals, but it's funny - or we can just hang out. Tell me about this road trip I just agreed to go on. Did I tell you I don't know how to drive?”
“No, but I didn't think you did. Can I have some water or something?”
“Oh, sure, sorry. Go sit.” Jensen waves him out of the kitchen, so Jared goes and sits on the couch until Jensen brings him a glass of water, and then he tells Jensen what he learned about RV camping, where the campsites are, what his plans are for driving cross-country with a vampire in the car, and what he told Chad.
“He wants to meet you,” he finishes.
“Good,” Jensen says. “I want to meet him too.”
They talk about hot peppers and what Danneel is going to do while Jensen is traveling. Jensen tells Jared about going to hear the Declaration of Independence being read from the old State House, back when it was the only State House. He's only shared a little bit of his long past - Jared gets the impression he doesn't want to talk about it much - so every new piece of information Jared can pry out of him is another piece in a puzzle that will never be finished. It's frustrating and fascinating in equal measure, the little bits Jared learns about Jensen's history.
“We didn't have fireworks,” Jensen says. “We had other things to worry about. Taxes, treason, you know. Little things like that.”
Jared snickers. “Tell me more about it.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“You won't let me tell my mom about you. At least tell me this shit so I can tell her something.”
Jensen ends up talking about his bakery, which is more interesting than Jared would have guessed. Eventually they take a break so Jared can have a couple of hot dogs, some potato salad, and a beer, and so Jensen can drink more of his reaper vodka-laced blood, and a little while after that, Jared suggests they go down to the Esplanade to find a spot from which to watch the fireworks.
“I think we can see them from the roof,” Jensen says. “There's already a huge crowd. Do you want to brave the hordes?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Instead of having a nice private view from my roof? You can have pie. Most importantly, if we stay here, we can actually hear the concert.” He turns on the TV and flips channels until he finds the right coverage, and they listen to the Boston Pops, have another drink, and heat up the pie.
They go up to the roof a few minutes before the fireworks are supposed to start. Jared can't tell if the view is going to be good or not, but being able to hang out in Jensen's living room and drink and eat and chat, rather than pushing through the crowds trying to find a spot to watch from, was very pleasant and relaxing. He's glad Jensen decided to come west with him, even if it does mean he'll have to do all the driving himself.
Last Fourth of July, Jared and his now-ex watched fireworks over the baseball stadium from the back patio of a bar in Durham. They were surrounded by friends and strangers, and the fireworks show itself was as exciting as any Jared had seen. But Boston's show is bigger.
Of course it is. This is where America was born.
They watch in silence, leaning against the parapet around the roof with their shoulders touching. The night is warm but there's a little bit of a breeze, and the boom and hiss of the fireworks is the only thing Jared can hear. He glances over at Jensen just once, and Jensen is watching the show with rapt attention, the different colors of the lights reflected as bright spots in his eyes. Jared hasn't really noticed how beautiful his best friend can be, until right now.
Then a bang draws his attention back to a massive blue puffball exploding over the river, and the moment is gone.
“That was amazing,” he says, after the cacophonous finale, when every firework went off at once and the noise was deafening.
“It really was,” Jensen says. “I never imagined I'd get to see something like that, back when I was young.” He's still leaning against the parapet, looking towards the river. Jared watches his profile.
“What are you thinking?”
“Everything's changed so much, since I was... since before....” He waves a hand, at a loss. “I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have had more vodka.”
“Are you buzzed?” Jared asks, amused.
“That was the plan. Do you think I'll have a hangover?” He laughs. “Of course I won't. There are some benefits to being me. Come on. Let's go back inside.” He takes Jared's arm and pulls him towards the door and the stairs down.
It's late and Jared wants to go home, and he wants to stay with Jensen, and he's not sure what he wants to do. He was up early to meet Misha and Vicky and some of their friends to hear the Declaration being read from the old State House, and while they were off getting ready for their party he walked around and pretended to be a tourist and found a nice bottle of wine to bring them. He's a little drunk, but it's a tired, happy drunk. He has no complaints.
They go back down to Abigail's to wrap up the rest of the pie. The bar is dark, Jensen having closed it so he and Danneel could have the night off. He and Jared are standing in the bar kitchen, the plastic-wrapped pie on the counter, when Jensen touches Jared's cheek, then pulls his face close and kisses him.
Jared is too surprised to do anything, even kiss back.
“Um,” he says, when Jensen releases him.
“Shit, I'm sorry,” Jensen says immediately. “I shouldn't have - “
“You were married. You had a wife.”
“I had a boyfriend, too. I didn't call him that, but that's what he was.”
“Christian?”
“For thirty years. Well, we weren't a couple the whole time - things moved a little slower back then, and of course we couldn't tell anyone - but... we were partners.”
Jared's brain tries to process this new piece of information. It's not as if he doesn't know any bisexual guys, but he never thought of Jensen as liking men. “Has there been anyone since?”
“No.”
“Just me?”
“Not yet.” Jensen is smiling at him, looking vastly amused. “All I did was kiss you, and you didn't even kiss me back.”
“I was just surprised, is all. I'm still a little drunk. I should probably go home.”
“You don't want to stay?” Disappointment creeps into Jensen's voice.
“I have to go to work tomorrow. I can't wear this.” Jared gestures at his t-shirt and shorts and sandals.
“Go in late. I thought you quit.”
“I did, but I still have to go in. I have some shit to finish up.”
Why is he arguing? Why can't he just say yes, of course he'll stay? He can go home tomorrow morning, change clothes, go to work late. What are they going to do, fire him?
“I'll make you breakfast,” Jensen says. He puts his hand on the back of Jared's neck. “I won't molest you in the middle of the night. I just want to kiss you again.”
In answer, Jared pulls him close, and it's a better kiss because they're both involved. Jensen clearly hasn't kissed anyone in a long time, but Jared thinks it must be like riding a bike, because the longer it goes on, the more Jensen seems to remember.
He has to pull away when he can't breathe.
“Sorry,” Jensen says, laughing a little. “I forgot.”
“That I have to breathe and you don't?” Jared grins. “Don't let me sleep too late.”
“I have an alarm clock. Take your pie.”
Jared takes the pie back upstairs to Jensen's apartment, puts it in the fridge next to the current bottle of hot sauce, strips down to his boxer briefs, and climbs into Jensen's bed. Jensen has actual pajamas. Jared snickers. Jensen pretends to be annoyed. Jared scoots closer and gives him a quick peck on the lips. Jensen follows that with a longer kiss before telling him to go to sleep. Jared doesn't need to be told.
The alarm clock wakes him up. Jensen is spooned against him, face pressed into his neck. Jared can feel the pressure of someone else's nose, but not the whiff of someone else's breath or the heat of someone else's body. It's very strange. It's as if Jensen isn't there, except for the weight of his body against Jared's back and legs, his arm flung across Jared's waist, the brush of pajama fabric against Jared's skin. Jared allows himself to wonder, just for a minute, what it would be like to fuck someone who's technically dead. Is he ready for that? Is Jensen? The RV has a queen bed, and the sleeping space over the cab is big enough for two. He rented it thinking they could each have their own bed, but now he guesses they'll share. He's okay with that. They can talk through the specifics when they're on the road.
And in the meantime, he really does have to leave, so he can go home, change into something more professional, and go to work. He lifts Jensen's arm off him, trying to get out of bed without waking him, but either Jensen was already awake, or the alarm woke him up too, because he pulls on Jared's shoulder until Jared rolls over.
“Good morning,” he says. “How'd you sleep?”
“Really well,” Jared says. He hasn't shared a bed with anyone since he and the ex broke up, and he forgot how much better he sleeps next to someone else. “You?”
“Also well. I only need about four hours, though. I've been awake for a while.”
“Why didn't you get up?”
“Why do you think?”
Jared kisses him, and Jensen kisses back, and it takes a great deal of effort for Jared to finally extricate himself and get out of bed. He wasn't expecting this, for Jensen to want him, or for him to want Jensen back. He can't say he never thought about it, but he can say he never thought it could actually happen.
They'll have to talk about it. Not now, but soon. In a few days they'll be stuck in an RV for two weeks. All they'll have is time.
* * *
“Who's this?” Jared asks Danneel, who's wiping down the bar and keeping an eye on the few customers in Abigail's at the same time. It's past sunset and Jared has come to collect Jensen for their trip to New Mexico to see the pepper farmer. Whatever is playing on the bar stereo sounds a little rockish and a little punkish, and Jared doesn't recognize it at all.
“I don't know,” Danneel says. “Jensen has a pile of CDs without labels back here. It wasn't offensive so I left it on. Aren't you leaving tonight? Why are you here?”
“I wanted to wish you luck holding down the fort by yourself.”
“You're sweet. I'll be fine. Did you tell Jensen you were here?”
“I called and told him I was coming in to say hi. So, hi.” He grins.
“You're cute. I take it you don't want a beer for the road.”
“That would probably be a bad idea. The RV has a kitchenette, so I can cook if I want to, and I already put a six-pack in the fridge.”
Someone comes up to the bar to order a couple of drinks. Jared listens to the music and mentally runs over his route and waits for Jensen.
“Who is this?” he asks, when Jensen finally appears with a wheelie suitcase, a laptop bag, and a cooler.
“The music? They're called the Krays. Mid-80s punk band from New York. What do you think?”
Jared cocks his head, listening. He can't make out the words, but the guitars sound good. “Not bad. Are you ready?”
“And willing. You have my cell,” he tells Danneel. “Don't burn the place down.” She rolls her eyes.
It takes Jensen another fifteen minutes to actually leave the bar, which is finally accomplished by Jared grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the place.
“Are you sure you want to go?” Jared asks, as they walk down the street to the garage where the RV is parked. “You don't have to.”
“I said I would,” Jensen says. “Alona's expecting us. You want me to. I'm trying to get out and do new things. You may have noticed that I'm not the most spontaneous person.”
“Kissing me wasn't spontaneous?” Jared grins and Jensen chuckles.
“To be honest, no, it wasn't.”
“How long did you have to think about it?”
“Long enough.”
Jensen admires how efficiently Jared packed up the RV. They adjust the front seats and head out.
Traffic is light, as Jared expected. They cruise out of Boston and head west towards New York, passing fewer and fewer signs of civilization as they cross the state border.
“I've never been west this far north,” Jared says. “There's a lot of nothing out here.”
Jensen snorts. “Where did you grow up? What's Texas, other than a lot of nothing?”
“It is not. It's full of small towns and rodeos. You left before there was really a lot going on.”
Jensen tries to find a good station on the radio, eventually giving up and plugging his phone into the console. They listen to the Krays, now that Jared can hear the lyrics. Jensen has audiobooks too, and he's pretty sure he can get online stations through his phone. Right now Jared is perfectly happy to listen to whatever music Jensen has.
They stop for gas, pee breaks (for Jared), food breaks (also for Jared), and once to stretch their legs on a surface that isn't moving. Jared feels himself flagging around three in the morning, so they pull into a rest stop so he can nap. Jensen wakes him up after an hour and they continue on.
The nap doesn't do much to help, but the longer he drives, the more excited Jared gets. He's aware that road-tripping with someone who has a severe sun allergy presents some very special problems, but he's sure he's anticipated enough of them. He's excited to have Jensen's undisturbed time for two weeks. Even if Jensen hadn't kissed him, even if Jared wasn't expecting to share a bed the whole trip, even if he wasn't expecting to get naked and sweaty, he'd still be excited to have Jensen all to himself. He likes spending time with the guy. He likes that they still have a lot to learn about each other, and he knows that if he could just get Jensen to talk about his history in more detail, he could learn a lot. He has someone local to talk to. Jensen has someone to talk to who isn't Misha.
Besides, this trip has gotten Jensen out of the house, and Jared is proud of himself for accomplishing what over a century in Boston couldn't. Even Misha with all his persistence and pestering never managed to get Jensen to leave Abigail's for any length of time. And here Jared has convinced him to not just leave town, but to cross the country in an RV to meet a chile farmer and talk about peppers.
“What?” Jensen says.
“What what?”
“You look pleased with yourself.”
“I am. I got you to leave the house.” Jared feels the biggest shit-eating grin spread across his face. “When was the last time you left Boston? When you took off for Texas in the nineteenth century. Right? And I got you to go to New Mexico.” He can probably give Misha some credit for mentioning the pepper farmer in the first place and putting the idea in his head, but all the leg work, all the emails and phone calls and research, that's on him.
Jensen doesn't say anything, but when Jared glances over at him, he's smiling. It's a little smile, like he's thinking of something he doesn't want to share.
They pull off the highway into another rest stop when Jensen points out the sky has been lightening. He climbs into the bunk over the front seats and closes the curtains across the front of it. There's a TV up there. He can watch a movie until Jared stops at the campground.
The sun is up by the time Jared finds the RV park and checks in. He's really drooping, and almost forgets to close all the curtains before he pokes his head into the bunk and tells Jensen they're parked and he can come out and sleep in the bed if he wants.
“Go lie down,” Jensen commands. He gives Jared a quick kiss on the lips. “I'll join you in a second.”
Jared goes. He strips off his shorts and t-shirt, has a pee in the RV's tiny bathroom, turns on the little fan mounted to the wall next to the bed, and flops onto the mattress face-first. The bed is just barely long enough for him, but he's so tired he doesn't care. He doesn't even feel Jensen lie down next to him.
He sleeps hard and wakes up confused and starving. This bed is smaller than he's used to, the mattress is thinner, and the space is more confining. Then he wakes up all the way and remembers. He's alone in the bed, but he can see Jensen sitting at the dinette, typing away on his laptop.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Jensen says. “How do you feel?”
“I'm not sure.” Jared stretches, climbs off the bed, and stretches again. “What time is it?”
“Almost five. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Jared comes over and sits across the table from him. “Are you? What are you doing?”
“Telling Alona about my reapers.”
Jared toasts a bagel in the RV's toaster oven, makes coffee, butters the bagel, slices a hard-boiled egg over it. He provisioned the kitchen before he picked up Jensen, but he's never taken a trip in a camper and wasn't sure how good the kitchen would be, so he didn't buy anything he'd have to cook. Neither he nor Jensen has unpacked Jensen's cooler, but Jared can guess what's inside.
He toasts another bagel and puts peanutbutter on it. He should have brought jam. He watches Jensen finish up and close his laptop.
“Is it crossword time?” Jared asks around a mouthful of bagel. Jensen leans down and pulls a book of crossword puzzles from his laptop bag. Jared laughs.
They pick a crossword. Jared finishes his breakfast. He wants to stretch his legs, see some sunlight, take advantage of the campground showers. Tonight they'll unpack the two folding chairs that came with the RV and sit outside for a little while, enjoying the fresh air before heading out to the next stop.
But Jensen has other ideas. Jared goes for a run, but when he comes back to collect his soap and a towel, Jensen grabs his t-shirt, pulls him close, and kisses him hard.
“What was that for?” Jared asks, laughing a little breathlessly, when Jensen finally releases him.
“I wanted to.” His hand is still on the back of Jared's head. They stand there in the dim RV and kiss again, and again, and again, until Jared has lost track of time and no longer even remembers where they are or what else he was supposed to be doing. Jensen has a tendency to hold Jared close until Jared has to push him away - evidently not having to breathe means Jensen can't remember that other people might need to.
“Jesus,” Jared says. He's out of breath and growing hard and he's sweaty and stinky and he wants to take a shower and he wants Jensen to fuck him and he doesn't know what he wants. He wants to kiss Jensen again.
Jensen bites his lip this time, a hopefully unintentional nip that causes both of them to jerk away from each other.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jensen says, “I didn't mean to do that.” He pulls at Jared's t-shirt, and once it's off he licks at Jared's chest, his nipples, the hollow of his throat. “Your skin is so warm,” he murmurs.
“I was running.” Jared can't catch his breath. “I'm all hot and sweaty. Do I taste like salt?”
“You don't taste like anything. I could put hot sauce on you.”
Jared is not turned off by the idea.
“We should do this on the bed,” Jensen goes on, straightening up and pulling off his own shirt. His jeans are next, followed by his boxers, until he's standing naked in front of Jared, his skin pale and freckled, his uncut cock half-hard.
Jared can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Is he nervous? Why is he nervous? It's just Jensen. He knows Jensen. He likes Jensen. He trusts Jensen.
And trust is important when you're about to have sex with someone who can suck your blood until you're dead.
“Why am I the only one who's naked?” Jensen asks, joking. He reaches for Jared's running shorts. Jared backs up until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and then he sits, yanks off his shoes, his socks, his shorts, his boxer briefs. Jensen pushes him back, climbs onto the mattress next to him. They rearrange themselves, kiss some more, rearrange themselves again.
“The bed's too small,” Jared says. He feels crowded.
“The bunk ceiling is too low,” Jensen answers. He runs his tongue across Jared's jaw, down his throat, his chest, his belly, all the way to his cock. Jared sucks in a breath as Jensen licks up and down the shaft, swipes his tongue across the head, and swallows it down.
And here Jared learns the best thing about getting head from the undead - they don't have to breathe and they don't have a gag reflex.
“Ohhh god,” he pants. “Jesus... fuck....” He tries to lie still, to let Jensen work, but the temptation to fuck Jensen's mouth is strong and the temptation to just let himself come is stronger.
Jensen's hand closes hard around the base of Jared's cock and he stops.
“What - “ Jared pants. Jensen lifts his head.
“Don't come.”
Jared would laugh if he had any breath to do so. “Then get up here and kiss me.” Jensen obliges.
But Jared is hard enough to jackhammer concrete, and it only takes one look to know Jensen is too. Jensen sits up, reaches into one of the cabinets over the bed, and retrieves a bottle of lube. Jared blinks at it. Jensen is clearly more prepared than he is.
“You should know I've been thinking about fucking you for a month,” Jensen murmurs, as he squirts some lube on his fingers. “But I've wanted to kiss you for longer than that.”
“Why didn't you?”
“I wasn't sure if you'd want me to.”
Jared lifts his head and licks at Jensen's lips. They part for his tongue and Jensen lets Jared lead the kiss, eventually pulling away to slide down the bed, part Jared's thighs, and slide a finger inside his body.
Jared sighs. He forgot how good this felt, to have someone touch him like this, to have someone take pleasure from giving him pleasure. He just hopes he can give enough back.
“Don't worry,” Jensen says, leaning down so his face is close to Jared's. “You can't catch anything from me, or give me anything.”
“What do you - “
“Think of the money we'll save from not having to buy condoms.” His smile is small and private.
Jared can't believe they're having this conversation. Of course Jensen has never had protected sex. There was no such thing between men when he and Christian were together, and it would have been unthinkable when Joanna was still alive. The idea that he even thought to bring it up is oddly touching. He just wants Jared to be comfortable.
“Are you ready?” Jensen asks. He pulls his hand away, wipes his fingers on Jared's chest.
“Are you?”
“What do you think?” Jensen takes Jared's hand and guides it down to his cock. Jared's fingers wrap around it and pull. Jensen's eyes close. He moans softly. Jared shifts underneath him, trying to get into a good position. He spreads his knees.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” he asks. Jensen lifts Jared's legs, drapes them over his shoulders, and guides himself inside Jared's waiting body.
Jared forgot how good this felt too, another man's cock in his ass, another man's weight on him, another man's grunts and moans in his ears. He misses the sound of Jensen's panting breaths, and he misses the flush that should be creeping across Jensen's skin as his arousal grows, but all the same, Jensen is still beautiful and careful and strong, his thrusts deep and steady, his groans low, his eyes full of heat.
Jared moans and grabs Jensen's ass, encouraging him to thrust harder and deeper. His legs slide off Jensen's shoulders, splaying out so his feet almost touch the walls on either side of the bed. He wishes they had more room. He wishes they'd done this sooner. He wishes it was dark out so they could open the curtains, so they could see the stars.
He wishes they were alone in the middle of nowhere, so no one could see them or hear them, so they could make as much noise as they wanted, so they could shake the RV hard enough to scare the birds.
“You feel better than I imagined,” Jensen says, ducking his head to press his lips to Jared's. “So close and warm.”
“I didn't even - oh fuck - hnn - Jensen - “
“You like that?”
“Harder, god - I - uhh - fuck, fuck - “
Jensen is pounding into him now, hard enough that Jared can feel the entire RV shake - he hopes it isn't, that he's just imagining that, that his brain has gotten carried away - he can't breathe, he can't speak, he can only gasp and moan. His entire existence shrinks down to this one point - Jensen on top of him, inside him, his own cock hard enough to explode, his whole body straining towards climax.
Jensen wraps a hand around his cock and that's it, that's all he needs, and he bucks up and bites his lip to keep from crying out. He can feel Jensen a bare few seconds behind him. Jensen keeps going through their double climax, slowing and stopping and flopping down on top of him.
“Shit,” Jared pants. “That was incredible.” He pushes Jensen's face up so he can look at his expression. “How'd you do that? I thought I was the first in, what, a hundred and thirty years?”
“You wouldn't believe what kind of information is available online.” Jensen grins. The fact that he isn't out of breath, isn't sweaty, isn't flushed, doesn't look in any way like he just shot out his brains through his dick is a little disconcerting. “I have a lot of stamina and a good imagination.”
“No shit.” Jared tries to slow his heart. He tries to take a breath. He needs to shower and rehydrate and put on clean clothes and all he really wants to do is lie here and recover.
“I guess it's been a while for you too.”
“Not a century.”
“Was it worth the wait?”
“I didn't think I'd be waiting so long, but yeah, it was really, really good.”
“Good.” Jensen drops a kiss on his lips, pulls out, and rolls off him. This is where one or both of them would light a cigarette, if this was an old movie.
Instead, Jared says “I don't get something.”
“What?” Jensen asks, turning to look at him.
“Your heart doesn't beat, right? It doesn't pump your blood. So your blood doesn't circulate.”
“It's a condition of being undead. So?”
“So how does your dick get hard?”
“How does - what?”
“How does your dick get hard? There's no blood rushing to it.”
Jensen chuckles. “I don't know. There is surprisingly little literature on the subject. There's a lot about sex, but almost nothing about a vampire's relevant bodily functions.”
“It's weird that I can't hear your breathing, and that you're not covered in sweat.” Jensen licks Jared's cheek. “What was that for?”
“So you're not covered in sweat either.”
“Are you going to lick me off?”
“I could.” Jensen starts with his throat, moving down to his collarbones and his chest, tongue tickling Jared's skin and making it shiver. Jared wonders idly what the recovery time is for vampires, and how long they'll have to wait for either of them to get hard again.
He should really take a shower, though. And drink something. He's parched. Sex is thirsty work, who knew?
Next!
NC-17
Part 3 of 5
Master post
Art
They go downstairs to the bar, where Danneel has things well under control. She mixes Jared a mystery mocktail and brings him a plate of nachos, and he and Jensen sit at the bar and do the crossword and talk about everything and nothing, like normal people.
Jared doesn't ask any more vampire questions, realizing that Jensen would probably rather answer them in private and not at the bar where Danneel or anyone else could hear. But on the way home his head buzzes with them - How did you keep people from finding out? How hard is it to change your identity and leave your stuff to yourself? How can you keep making friends, knowing they're all going to die on you? Do you ever think about turning someone else, so you'll have company? Don't you miss the daylight? Don't you miss food? Is that why your apartment's always a little cold? What does blood taste like? How did you used to do business if you couldn't go outside during the day? Did people just always come to you? How many people have you eaten? Will you show up on a selfie?
He's unlocking the door of his apartment when he realizes that Jensen's thermos, which he said contained reaper infused vodka, was probably full of blood. Blood and vodka. Now he's grossed out. But he's not worried about Jensen biting him, and as long as that's true, he can be cool about the blood-drinking.
It's not long before he realizes how this changes his New Mexico vacation plans. They can't fly. But Jared could rent an RV or a camper with blackout curtains so Jensen won't accidentally turn into a crispy critter. Misha would never forgive him if Jensen went up in flames on the road.
Jared wonders if Jensen even knows how to drive. Can you take driving lessons in the middle of the night? How would he get a license? He can't take his driving test during the day, and he can't go to the DMV to get his picture taken. They're not open that late, and the cameras might not even work on him. But it doesn't matter. Jared can drive all the way to New Mexico and back if necessary. He drove from Texas to North Carolina, and from North Carolina to Massachusetts, and at least Jensen can talk to him and keep him awake.
It's not a terrible plan. Jared looks up RV parks and campgrounds and nearby places to rent a camper. He reads up on pepper farms in New Mexico, not just the one with the experimental superhots. He asks Chad if there are better or worse times to visit, and when Chad hedges he says he's bringing his mystery bartender friend.
At the same time Jared is planning the trip to New Mexico, he's thinking more and more seriously about quitting his job and going freelance. He wants to do something because it's what he likes, something he's choosing out of desire and not desperation. He took the job in Boston because he wanted to get out of Durham and it was the first opportunity that popped up. But now he can make career decisions from a place of comfort, at a point in his life when his current situation is actually okay.
The money insecurity makes him a little anxious, but he has savings and he knows he can find work if he hustles. Misha no doubt knows someone, or at least knows someone who knows someone, who can help. Jared just has to ask.
A timeline coalesces in his head: Quit job. Take road trip. Go freelance.
In the meantime, he keeps going to work and fixing computer problems for accountants and auditors and biting his tongue over the home office's bureaucratic solutions to simple problems. He hangs out in Abigail's. He chats with Misha and occasionally Vicky. He watches movies in Jensen's apartment. He even manages to coax Jensen out of the building once to see a late show at the movie theater on Boston Common. Jensen tells him a little bit about Texas in the early decades of its statehood, and it's almost the end of June when Jared has enough travel information to bring up the road trip.
“You want us to do what?” is Jensen's response. Jared waited until movie night to mention it, so they can argue in private. He brought it up even before Jensen could tell him what the movie selection is. “I can't leave the bar that long.”
“Isn't that why you hired Danneel?” Jared points out. “She'll work for a week and then you can close for a week and say you're remodeling. You're not open a lot of hours during the summer anyway. You should change that, by the way, now that you have someone to serve drinks when it's still light out.”
“I'll think about it. Where did this road trip come from?”
“Remember I said Misha told me about the pepper farmer in New Mexico who's trying to breed the hottest peppers in existence? He suggested we take a vacation out there, because if anyone could get you to leave the building, I could.”
Jensen chuckles. “He's not quite wrong. But I can't go away for weeks on end. Even if Danny can watch the bar the whole time, I have tenants, remember?”
“So ask her to keep an eye on the place. Landlords go on vacation all the time.”
“And if there's an emergency?”
“You have a phone. Tell your tenants you're going to be out of town for two weeks but they can call if there's an emergency. How often do they need you, anyway? We'll go during the middle of the month, so you'll still be around to collect rent.”
“When were you thinking about going?”
“Next month.”
Jensen blinks at him. “Next month is in a week and a half.”
“I know. I'll go to Misha and Vicky's Fourth of July party, we'll see the fireworks, and a couple days later, we'll leave.”
“What about your job? Can you take two weeks?”
“I'm quitting. Misha says he and Vicky can get me some freelance gigs.”
“You're kidding.”
“No, I'm not. I just want to do something because I want to do it, you know? I think I'm ready to be my own boss. I'm nervous about it but I've got some savings and I think it'll be okay. Besides, I told Misha I could volunteer some hours for him, so I'll be putting some good into the world too.”
“I'm proud of you.”
“Thanks. I'm proud of me too. So you think the road trip will be fun?” He puts on his best eager-puppy face. “You can see the desert at midnight. You can meet the pepper farmer in person! And eat her peppers! And spend two weeks with me.” He grins. Jensen rolls his eyes. “I've been taking pest lessons from Misha, just so you know.”
“I don't think I can close the bar for that long. I really can't just take off on a whim.”
“It's not a whim. I've been thinking about it since Memorial Day. I mapped out a route. I made reservations at campsites. I even emailed the pepper farmer and asked how she felt about visitors. Her name's Alona, by the way. You can have a cooler just for your blood. I won't even complain if you want to bring some of that satanic kimchi with you.”
“What about the camper? What's your plan there?”
“Blackout curtains.”
Jensen glances at the window, at his own curtains pulled tight against the sunset.
“We'll do most of our driving at night,” Jared goes on. “During the day you'll just stay inside the camper with the shades drawn. We can do it without you turning into charcoal.”
Jensen stands, walks around the room, sits back down. “I don't know.”
“I bought an actual map and stuck pins in it. My roommate thinks I'm nuts. I mapped it on Googlemaps too.” He pulls out his phone, realizes the screen is too small to get a good idea of the route, and puts the phone on the coffee table. “I'll get it to you. Ask Danneel if she can cover for you. I'm serious. It will be good for both of us.”
“I'll think about it.”
It's the best Jared is going to get right now. He's okay with it.
On July Fourth he brings another bottle of white wine to Misha and Vicky's party. They have a lot of the same guests that they had for Memorial Day, plus some small children. The party itself is very similar, with Misha manning the grill for a while and Vicky circulating and schmoozing, and then the two of them trading places. Jared has given notice at the accounting firm. He doesn't have any freelance or contract work lined up yet, but he's about to go on vacation - and he's decided that he's driving to New Mexico and Arizona anyway, whether Jensen comes or not - and has more immediate things to think about.
One of those things is why Jensen hasn't made a decision about the road trip yet. Jared doesn't know why he's still waffling, and is out of ways to convince him to go.
He'll go over to Jensen's after the party and when the sun sets they'll walk down to the Esplanade to watch the fireworks. And in the meantime, Misha and Vicky have nice friends, the food is delicious, and Jared is having a good time.
He tries not to drink too much, but the beer is cold and he likes to support local breweries. He feels a little wobbly by the time the party breaks up and he heads over to Abigail's, but it's a good wobbly, a pleasant high. In two days he'll be unemployed, he has a vacation planned with his best friend without knowing for sure if his best friend is even coming with him, he doesn't know if this freelance thing will work, and he doesn't think he's ever been happier.
The sun is slowly falling, setting the west-facing windows of the buildings on fire. The sidewalks are crowded with people and dogs and strollers, everything is bright and beautiful, he's full of beer and barbecue, and why isn't Jensen letting him in? Oh right, he needs to press the buzzer. Knocking won't do anything. The door to the building clicks open and he bounces up the stairs.
“Okay, I'll go with you,” is the first thing Jensen says when he opens his apartment door.
“Fantastic!” Jared throws his arms around Jensen's neck. Jensen laughs.
“How much did you drink?” he asks.
“Enough. Vicky plied me with Night Shift. I'm a little drunk.”
“Just a little.” Jensen grins. “Come in.” He waves Jared into the kitchen, where two shot glasses are sitting on the table along with a bottle of what is presumably vodka, because there are slices of hot peppers and some seeds floating in it. Jared looks at it apprehensively, remembering his previous experience with Jensen's experimental pepper vodka. Jensen pours each of them a shot and hands Jared a glass.
“Um,” Jared says, and then “I'm not that drunk.”
“Cheers,” Jensen says, clinking the glasses together. He downs his shot, then takes Jared's and downs that as well. “To road tripping.”
“Does that do anything?” Jensen said that food doesn't nourish him, so would alcohol have any effect?
“Just wait.” Jensen retrieves a thermos from the fridge, pours the contents into a glass, sticks the glass in the microwave, nukes it for ten seconds, and pours it back into the thermos. He adds some vodka, shakes it up, and sips it. He sighs with pleasure. “I have to drink it with blood to feel anything. It doesn't seem fair to always be the sober one at the party.”
Jared makes a noise of disgust. He can't help it. Knowing Jensen has to drink blood is one thing. Having to see it is something else entirely.
“Don't knock it. It keeps me alive.” Jensen grins. “I didn't think you'd be hungry when you got here, but I have hot dogs, buns, and potato salad downstairs for later, and I've got beer and soda up here - Sam Adams, of course - I even baked you an apple pie.”
“Really? You didn't have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. I can even douse it in hot sauce and eat it with you. What do you want to do until the fireworks start? I rented 1776 - I know you're not a fan of musicals, but it's funny - or we can just hang out. Tell me about this road trip I just agreed to go on. Did I tell you I don't know how to drive?”
“No, but I didn't think you did. Can I have some water or something?”
“Oh, sure, sorry. Go sit.” Jensen waves him out of the kitchen, so Jared goes and sits on the couch until Jensen brings him a glass of water, and then he tells Jensen what he learned about RV camping, where the campsites are, what his plans are for driving cross-country with a vampire in the car, and what he told Chad.
“He wants to meet you,” he finishes.
“Good,” Jensen says. “I want to meet him too.”
They talk about hot peppers and what Danneel is going to do while Jensen is traveling. Jensen tells Jared about going to hear the Declaration of Independence being read from the old State House, back when it was the only State House. He's only shared a little bit of his long past - Jared gets the impression he doesn't want to talk about it much - so every new piece of information Jared can pry out of him is another piece in a puzzle that will never be finished. It's frustrating and fascinating in equal measure, the little bits Jared learns about Jensen's history.
“We didn't have fireworks,” Jensen says. “We had other things to worry about. Taxes, treason, you know. Little things like that.”
Jared snickers. “Tell me more about it.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“You won't let me tell my mom about you. At least tell me this shit so I can tell her something.”
Jensen ends up talking about his bakery, which is more interesting than Jared would have guessed. Eventually they take a break so Jared can have a couple of hot dogs, some potato salad, and a beer, and so Jensen can drink more of his reaper vodka-laced blood, and a little while after that, Jared suggests they go down to the Esplanade to find a spot from which to watch the fireworks.
“I think we can see them from the roof,” Jensen says. “There's already a huge crowd. Do you want to brave the hordes?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Instead of having a nice private view from my roof? You can have pie. Most importantly, if we stay here, we can actually hear the concert.” He turns on the TV and flips channels until he finds the right coverage, and they listen to the Boston Pops, have another drink, and heat up the pie.
They go up to the roof a few minutes before the fireworks are supposed to start. Jared can't tell if the view is going to be good or not, but being able to hang out in Jensen's living room and drink and eat and chat, rather than pushing through the crowds trying to find a spot to watch from, was very pleasant and relaxing. He's glad Jensen decided to come west with him, even if it does mean he'll have to do all the driving himself.
Last Fourth of July, Jared and his now-ex watched fireworks over the baseball stadium from the back patio of a bar in Durham. They were surrounded by friends and strangers, and the fireworks show itself was as exciting as any Jared had seen. But Boston's show is bigger.
Of course it is. This is where America was born.
They watch in silence, leaning against the parapet around the roof with their shoulders touching. The night is warm but there's a little bit of a breeze, and the boom and hiss of the fireworks is the only thing Jared can hear. He glances over at Jensen just once, and Jensen is watching the show with rapt attention, the different colors of the lights reflected as bright spots in his eyes. Jared hasn't really noticed how beautiful his best friend can be, until right now.
Then a bang draws his attention back to a massive blue puffball exploding over the river, and the moment is gone.
“That was amazing,” he says, after the cacophonous finale, when every firework went off at once and the noise was deafening.
“It really was,” Jensen says. “I never imagined I'd get to see something like that, back when I was young.” He's still leaning against the parapet, looking towards the river. Jared watches his profile.
“What are you thinking?”
“Everything's changed so much, since I was... since before....” He waves a hand, at a loss. “I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have had more vodka.”
“Are you buzzed?” Jared asks, amused.
“That was the plan. Do you think I'll have a hangover?” He laughs. “Of course I won't. There are some benefits to being me. Come on. Let's go back inside.” He takes Jared's arm and pulls him towards the door and the stairs down.
It's late and Jared wants to go home, and he wants to stay with Jensen, and he's not sure what he wants to do. He was up early to meet Misha and Vicky and some of their friends to hear the Declaration being read from the old State House, and while they were off getting ready for their party he walked around and pretended to be a tourist and found a nice bottle of wine to bring them. He's a little drunk, but it's a tired, happy drunk. He has no complaints.
They go back down to Abigail's to wrap up the rest of the pie. The bar is dark, Jensen having closed it so he and Danneel could have the night off. He and Jared are standing in the bar kitchen, the plastic-wrapped pie on the counter, when Jensen touches Jared's cheek, then pulls his face close and kisses him.
Jared is too surprised to do anything, even kiss back.
“Um,” he says, when Jensen releases him.
“Shit, I'm sorry,” Jensen says immediately. “I shouldn't have - “
“You were married. You had a wife.”
“I had a boyfriend, too. I didn't call him that, but that's what he was.”
“Christian?”
“For thirty years. Well, we weren't a couple the whole time - things moved a little slower back then, and of course we couldn't tell anyone - but... we were partners.”
Jared's brain tries to process this new piece of information. It's not as if he doesn't know any bisexual guys, but he never thought of Jensen as liking men. “Has there been anyone since?”
“No.”
“Just me?”
“Not yet.” Jensen is smiling at him, looking vastly amused. “All I did was kiss you, and you didn't even kiss me back.”
“I was just surprised, is all. I'm still a little drunk. I should probably go home.”
“You don't want to stay?” Disappointment creeps into Jensen's voice.
“I have to go to work tomorrow. I can't wear this.” Jared gestures at his t-shirt and shorts and sandals.
“Go in late. I thought you quit.”
“I did, but I still have to go in. I have some shit to finish up.”
Why is he arguing? Why can't he just say yes, of course he'll stay? He can go home tomorrow morning, change clothes, go to work late. What are they going to do, fire him?
“I'll make you breakfast,” Jensen says. He puts his hand on the back of Jared's neck. “I won't molest you in the middle of the night. I just want to kiss you again.”
In answer, Jared pulls him close, and it's a better kiss because they're both involved. Jensen clearly hasn't kissed anyone in a long time, but Jared thinks it must be like riding a bike, because the longer it goes on, the more Jensen seems to remember.
He has to pull away when he can't breathe.
“Sorry,” Jensen says, laughing a little. “I forgot.”
“That I have to breathe and you don't?” Jared grins. “Don't let me sleep too late.”
“I have an alarm clock. Take your pie.”
Jared takes the pie back upstairs to Jensen's apartment, puts it in the fridge next to the current bottle of hot sauce, strips down to his boxer briefs, and climbs into Jensen's bed. Jensen has actual pajamas. Jared snickers. Jensen pretends to be annoyed. Jared scoots closer and gives him a quick peck on the lips. Jensen follows that with a longer kiss before telling him to go to sleep. Jared doesn't need to be told.
The alarm clock wakes him up. Jensen is spooned against him, face pressed into his neck. Jared can feel the pressure of someone else's nose, but not the whiff of someone else's breath or the heat of someone else's body. It's very strange. It's as if Jensen isn't there, except for the weight of his body against Jared's back and legs, his arm flung across Jared's waist, the brush of pajama fabric against Jared's skin. Jared allows himself to wonder, just for a minute, what it would be like to fuck someone who's technically dead. Is he ready for that? Is Jensen? The RV has a queen bed, and the sleeping space over the cab is big enough for two. He rented it thinking they could each have their own bed, but now he guesses they'll share. He's okay with that. They can talk through the specifics when they're on the road.
And in the meantime, he really does have to leave, so he can go home, change into something more professional, and go to work. He lifts Jensen's arm off him, trying to get out of bed without waking him, but either Jensen was already awake, or the alarm woke him up too, because he pulls on Jared's shoulder until Jared rolls over.
“Good morning,” he says. “How'd you sleep?”
“Really well,” Jared says. He hasn't shared a bed with anyone since he and the ex broke up, and he forgot how much better he sleeps next to someone else. “You?”
“Also well. I only need about four hours, though. I've been awake for a while.”
“Why didn't you get up?”
“Why do you think?”
Jared kisses him, and Jensen kisses back, and it takes a great deal of effort for Jared to finally extricate himself and get out of bed. He wasn't expecting this, for Jensen to want him, or for him to want Jensen back. He can't say he never thought about it, but he can say he never thought it could actually happen.
They'll have to talk about it. Not now, but soon. In a few days they'll be stuck in an RV for two weeks. All they'll have is time.
* * *
“Who's this?” Jared asks Danneel, who's wiping down the bar and keeping an eye on the few customers in Abigail's at the same time. It's past sunset and Jared has come to collect Jensen for their trip to New Mexico to see the pepper farmer. Whatever is playing on the bar stereo sounds a little rockish and a little punkish, and Jared doesn't recognize it at all.
“I don't know,” Danneel says. “Jensen has a pile of CDs without labels back here. It wasn't offensive so I left it on. Aren't you leaving tonight? Why are you here?”
“I wanted to wish you luck holding down the fort by yourself.”
“You're sweet. I'll be fine. Did you tell Jensen you were here?”
“I called and told him I was coming in to say hi. So, hi.” He grins.
“You're cute. I take it you don't want a beer for the road.”
“That would probably be a bad idea. The RV has a kitchenette, so I can cook if I want to, and I already put a six-pack in the fridge.”
Someone comes up to the bar to order a couple of drinks. Jared listens to the music and mentally runs over his route and waits for Jensen.
“Who is this?” he asks, when Jensen finally appears with a wheelie suitcase, a laptop bag, and a cooler.
“The music? They're called the Krays. Mid-80s punk band from New York. What do you think?”
Jared cocks his head, listening. He can't make out the words, but the guitars sound good. “Not bad. Are you ready?”
“And willing. You have my cell,” he tells Danneel. “Don't burn the place down.” She rolls her eyes.
It takes Jensen another fifteen minutes to actually leave the bar, which is finally accomplished by Jared grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the place.
“Are you sure you want to go?” Jared asks, as they walk down the street to the garage where the RV is parked. “You don't have to.”
“I said I would,” Jensen says. “Alona's expecting us. You want me to. I'm trying to get out and do new things. You may have noticed that I'm not the most spontaneous person.”
“Kissing me wasn't spontaneous?” Jared grins and Jensen chuckles.
“To be honest, no, it wasn't.”
“How long did you have to think about it?”
“Long enough.”
Jensen admires how efficiently Jared packed up the RV. They adjust the front seats and head out.
Traffic is light, as Jared expected. They cruise out of Boston and head west towards New York, passing fewer and fewer signs of civilization as they cross the state border.
“I've never been west this far north,” Jared says. “There's a lot of nothing out here.”
Jensen snorts. “Where did you grow up? What's Texas, other than a lot of nothing?”
“It is not. It's full of small towns and rodeos. You left before there was really a lot going on.”
Jensen tries to find a good station on the radio, eventually giving up and plugging his phone into the console. They listen to the Krays, now that Jared can hear the lyrics. Jensen has audiobooks too, and he's pretty sure he can get online stations through his phone. Right now Jared is perfectly happy to listen to whatever music Jensen has.
They stop for gas, pee breaks (for Jared), food breaks (also for Jared), and once to stretch their legs on a surface that isn't moving. Jared feels himself flagging around three in the morning, so they pull into a rest stop so he can nap. Jensen wakes him up after an hour and they continue on.
The nap doesn't do much to help, but the longer he drives, the more excited Jared gets. He's aware that road-tripping with someone who has a severe sun allergy presents some very special problems, but he's sure he's anticipated enough of them. He's excited to have Jensen's undisturbed time for two weeks. Even if Jensen hadn't kissed him, even if Jared wasn't expecting to share a bed the whole trip, even if he wasn't expecting to get naked and sweaty, he'd still be excited to have Jensen all to himself. He likes spending time with the guy. He likes that they still have a lot to learn about each other, and he knows that if he could just get Jensen to talk about his history in more detail, he could learn a lot. He has someone local to talk to. Jensen has someone to talk to who isn't Misha.
Besides, this trip has gotten Jensen out of the house, and Jared is proud of himself for accomplishing what over a century in Boston couldn't. Even Misha with all his persistence and pestering never managed to get Jensen to leave Abigail's for any length of time. And here Jared has convinced him to not just leave town, but to cross the country in an RV to meet a chile farmer and talk about peppers.
“What?” Jensen says.
“What what?”
“You look pleased with yourself.”
“I am. I got you to leave the house.” Jared feels the biggest shit-eating grin spread across his face. “When was the last time you left Boston? When you took off for Texas in the nineteenth century. Right? And I got you to go to New Mexico.” He can probably give Misha some credit for mentioning the pepper farmer in the first place and putting the idea in his head, but all the leg work, all the emails and phone calls and research, that's on him.
Jensen doesn't say anything, but when Jared glances over at him, he's smiling. It's a little smile, like he's thinking of something he doesn't want to share.
They pull off the highway into another rest stop when Jensen points out the sky has been lightening. He climbs into the bunk over the front seats and closes the curtains across the front of it. There's a TV up there. He can watch a movie until Jared stops at the campground.
The sun is up by the time Jared finds the RV park and checks in. He's really drooping, and almost forgets to close all the curtains before he pokes his head into the bunk and tells Jensen they're parked and he can come out and sleep in the bed if he wants.
“Go lie down,” Jensen commands. He gives Jared a quick kiss on the lips. “I'll join you in a second.”
Jared goes. He strips off his shorts and t-shirt, has a pee in the RV's tiny bathroom, turns on the little fan mounted to the wall next to the bed, and flops onto the mattress face-first. The bed is just barely long enough for him, but he's so tired he doesn't care. He doesn't even feel Jensen lie down next to him.
He sleeps hard and wakes up confused and starving. This bed is smaller than he's used to, the mattress is thinner, and the space is more confining. Then he wakes up all the way and remembers. He's alone in the bed, but he can see Jensen sitting at the dinette, typing away on his laptop.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Jensen says. “How do you feel?”
“I'm not sure.” Jared stretches, climbs off the bed, and stretches again. “What time is it?”
“Almost five. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Jared comes over and sits across the table from him. “Are you? What are you doing?”
“Telling Alona about my reapers.”
Jared toasts a bagel in the RV's toaster oven, makes coffee, butters the bagel, slices a hard-boiled egg over it. He provisioned the kitchen before he picked up Jensen, but he's never taken a trip in a camper and wasn't sure how good the kitchen would be, so he didn't buy anything he'd have to cook. Neither he nor Jensen has unpacked Jensen's cooler, but Jared can guess what's inside.
He toasts another bagel and puts peanutbutter on it. He should have brought jam. He watches Jensen finish up and close his laptop.
“Is it crossword time?” Jared asks around a mouthful of bagel. Jensen leans down and pulls a book of crossword puzzles from his laptop bag. Jared laughs.
They pick a crossword. Jared finishes his breakfast. He wants to stretch his legs, see some sunlight, take advantage of the campground showers. Tonight they'll unpack the two folding chairs that came with the RV and sit outside for a little while, enjoying the fresh air before heading out to the next stop.
But Jensen has other ideas. Jared goes for a run, but when he comes back to collect his soap and a towel, Jensen grabs his t-shirt, pulls him close, and kisses him hard.
“What was that for?” Jared asks, laughing a little breathlessly, when Jensen finally releases him.
“I wanted to.” His hand is still on the back of Jared's head. They stand there in the dim RV and kiss again, and again, and again, until Jared has lost track of time and no longer even remembers where they are or what else he was supposed to be doing. Jensen has a tendency to hold Jared close until Jared has to push him away - evidently not having to breathe means Jensen can't remember that other people might need to.
“Jesus,” Jared says. He's out of breath and growing hard and he's sweaty and stinky and he wants to take a shower and he wants Jensen to fuck him and he doesn't know what he wants. He wants to kiss Jensen again.
Jensen bites his lip this time, a hopefully unintentional nip that causes both of them to jerk away from each other.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jensen says, “I didn't mean to do that.” He pulls at Jared's t-shirt, and once it's off he licks at Jared's chest, his nipples, the hollow of his throat. “Your skin is so warm,” he murmurs.
“I was running.” Jared can't catch his breath. “I'm all hot and sweaty. Do I taste like salt?”
“You don't taste like anything. I could put hot sauce on you.”
Jared is not turned off by the idea.
“We should do this on the bed,” Jensen goes on, straightening up and pulling off his own shirt. His jeans are next, followed by his boxers, until he's standing naked in front of Jared, his skin pale and freckled, his uncut cock half-hard.
Jared can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Is he nervous? Why is he nervous? It's just Jensen. He knows Jensen. He likes Jensen. He trusts Jensen.
And trust is important when you're about to have sex with someone who can suck your blood until you're dead.
“Why am I the only one who's naked?” Jensen asks, joking. He reaches for Jared's running shorts. Jared backs up until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and then he sits, yanks off his shoes, his socks, his shorts, his boxer briefs. Jensen pushes him back, climbs onto the mattress next to him. They rearrange themselves, kiss some more, rearrange themselves again.
“The bed's too small,” Jared says. He feels crowded.
“The bunk ceiling is too low,” Jensen answers. He runs his tongue across Jared's jaw, down his throat, his chest, his belly, all the way to his cock. Jared sucks in a breath as Jensen licks up and down the shaft, swipes his tongue across the head, and swallows it down.
And here Jared learns the best thing about getting head from the undead - they don't have to breathe and they don't have a gag reflex.
“Ohhh god,” he pants. “Jesus... fuck....” He tries to lie still, to let Jensen work, but the temptation to fuck Jensen's mouth is strong and the temptation to just let himself come is stronger.
Jensen's hand closes hard around the base of Jared's cock and he stops.
“What - “ Jared pants. Jensen lifts his head.
“Don't come.”
Jared would laugh if he had any breath to do so. “Then get up here and kiss me.” Jensen obliges.
But Jared is hard enough to jackhammer concrete, and it only takes one look to know Jensen is too. Jensen sits up, reaches into one of the cabinets over the bed, and retrieves a bottle of lube. Jared blinks at it. Jensen is clearly more prepared than he is.
“You should know I've been thinking about fucking you for a month,” Jensen murmurs, as he squirts some lube on his fingers. “But I've wanted to kiss you for longer than that.”
“Why didn't you?”
“I wasn't sure if you'd want me to.”
Jared lifts his head and licks at Jensen's lips. They part for his tongue and Jensen lets Jared lead the kiss, eventually pulling away to slide down the bed, part Jared's thighs, and slide a finger inside his body.
Jared sighs. He forgot how good this felt, to have someone touch him like this, to have someone take pleasure from giving him pleasure. He just hopes he can give enough back.
“Don't worry,” Jensen says, leaning down so his face is close to Jared's. “You can't catch anything from me, or give me anything.”
“What do you - “
“Think of the money we'll save from not having to buy condoms.” His smile is small and private.
Jared can't believe they're having this conversation. Of course Jensen has never had protected sex. There was no such thing between men when he and Christian were together, and it would have been unthinkable when Joanna was still alive. The idea that he even thought to bring it up is oddly touching. He just wants Jared to be comfortable.
“Are you ready?” Jensen asks. He pulls his hand away, wipes his fingers on Jared's chest.
“Are you?”
“What do you think?” Jensen takes Jared's hand and guides it down to his cock. Jared's fingers wrap around it and pull. Jensen's eyes close. He moans softly. Jared shifts underneath him, trying to get into a good position. He spreads his knees.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” he asks. Jensen lifts Jared's legs, drapes them over his shoulders, and guides himself inside Jared's waiting body.
Jared forgot how good this felt too, another man's cock in his ass, another man's weight on him, another man's grunts and moans in his ears. He misses the sound of Jensen's panting breaths, and he misses the flush that should be creeping across Jensen's skin as his arousal grows, but all the same, Jensen is still beautiful and careful and strong, his thrusts deep and steady, his groans low, his eyes full of heat.
Jared moans and grabs Jensen's ass, encouraging him to thrust harder and deeper. His legs slide off Jensen's shoulders, splaying out so his feet almost touch the walls on either side of the bed. He wishes they had more room. He wishes they'd done this sooner. He wishes it was dark out so they could open the curtains, so they could see the stars.
He wishes they were alone in the middle of nowhere, so no one could see them or hear them, so they could make as much noise as they wanted, so they could shake the RV hard enough to scare the birds.
“You feel better than I imagined,” Jensen says, ducking his head to press his lips to Jared's. “So close and warm.”
“I didn't even - oh fuck - hnn - Jensen - “
“You like that?”
“Harder, god - I - uhh - fuck, fuck - “
Jensen is pounding into him now, hard enough that Jared can feel the entire RV shake - he hopes it isn't, that he's just imagining that, that his brain has gotten carried away - he can't breathe, he can't speak, he can only gasp and moan. His entire existence shrinks down to this one point - Jensen on top of him, inside him, his own cock hard enough to explode, his whole body straining towards climax.
Jensen wraps a hand around his cock and that's it, that's all he needs, and he bucks up and bites his lip to keep from crying out. He can feel Jensen a bare few seconds behind him. Jensen keeps going through their double climax, slowing and stopping and flopping down on top of him.
“Shit,” Jared pants. “That was incredible.” He pushes Jensen's face up so he can look at his expression. “How'd you do that? I thought I was the first in, what, a hundred and thirty years?”
“You wouldn't believe what kind of information is available online.” Jensen grins. The fact that he isn't out of breath, isn't sweaty, isn't flushed, doesn't look in any way like he just shot out his brains through his dick is a little disconcerting. “I have a lot of stamina and a good imagination.”
“No shit.” Jared tries to slow his heart. He tries to take a breath. He needs to shower and rehydrate and put on clean clothes and all he really wants to do is lie here and recover.
“I guess it's been a while for you too.”
“Not a century.”
“Was it worth the wait?”
“I didn't think I'd be waiting so long, but yeah, it was really, really good.”
“Good.” Jensen drops a kiss on his lips, pulls out, and rolls off him. This is where one or both of them would light a cigarette, if this was an old movie.
Instead, Jared says “I don't get something.”
“What?” Jensen asks, turning to look at him.
“Your heart doesn't beat, right? It doesn't pump your blood. So your blood doesn't circulate.”
“It's a condition of being undead. So?”
“So how does your dick get hard?”
“How does - what?”
“How does your dick get hard? There's no blood rushing to it.”
Jensen chuckles. “I don't know. There is surprisingly little literature on the subject. There's a lot about sex, but almost nothing about a vampire's relevant bodily functions.”
“It's weird that I can't hear your breathing, and that you're not covered in sweat.” Jensen licks Jared's cheek. “What was that for?”
“So you're not covered in sweat either.”
“Are you going to lick me off?”
“I could.” Jensen starts with his throat, moving down to his collarbones and his chest, tongue tickling Jared's skin and making it shiver. Jared wonders idly what the recovery time is for vampires, and how long they'll have to wait for either of them to get hard again.
He should really take a shower, though. And drink something. He's parched. Sex is thirsty work, who knew?
Next!