Fic: Subterranean Homesick Blues 5/8
Title: Subterranean Homesick Blues
Author: vicious_trade
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set three years in the future. When a friend passes away, Jensen flies to Vancouver for the funeral and somehow gets coerced into spending the weekend with more than a few familiar faces. He's pretty sure that if he can put the past behind them, drink enough beer, and stop himself from killing Chad, it'll be just like the old days. If he could just get Jared out of his head. A retelling of the Big Chill. Warnings/Spoilers: Set assuming Supernatural ends after the fifth season. F-bombs galore, features some Jensen/Danneel and Tom/Mike. And Chad. Seriously, you've been warned.
AN: Party of Five, anyone?
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
Present Day
At the fifth reverberating bang of metal on metal emanating from behind the closed kitchen door, Jensen covers his smile with his wine glass, glancing around the table. Tom has his gaze fixed unseeingly ahead, but he jumps with every crash of pots and pans like remaining in his chair is taking every last shred of willpower in his body.
A muffled, “Mother-fucking-shit-hole!” comes from the next room.
Genevieve puts her elbows on the table and stares down at her empty plate hopelessly. “This is it.” She moans, and someone’s stomach growls audibly. “This is how I’m going to die.”
“Surely he’s not going to starve us,” Danneel says reasonably, but she’s looking around like she hopes someone is going to answer. “But then, which is the lesser of two evils? Hunger might take days, but E Coli...”
“That’s it.” Chad announces, throwing down his unused napkin and impatiently slapping his hands on his thighs. “I’m not going out like this - there’s a lot left I still want to do with my life.”
Jensen feigns excitement. “Star in a movie alongside of Hilary Duff? Wait. Already done that.”
“Shut up. I’m making a break for it.” Chad gets up from his chair. “I’m going to try the back door. Misha, you with me?”
Misha looks up, bewildered. “Isn’t that language a little inappropriate for the dinner table?”
Now Tom looks irritated. “Would everyone shut the hell up? Chad, sit your ass back down. No one is leaving.” He sends a string of glares around the table, arms crossed sternly in front of his chest. “Mike worked really hard on this meal. Yes, it’s taken him four hours, and okay, I’m not too excited about eating it either, but damn it, you’re all going to choke it down, make yummy noises, and tell him you it was delicious. You got it?”
Chad’s mouth twitches as he slowly walks back to his seat. “Daddy’s getting angry...”
“Sit.” Tom hisses, and the venom in his voice has everyone looking down at their hands like chastised Sunday school students.
Heavy silences have never been his forte. Sneaking a look up, Jensen leans to his left, pleased not for the first time that Jared had chosen the seat beside his. “You should have brought your dogs, Jay.” He mutters under his breath.
Jared glances at him, smirking. “I don’t think Harley or Sadie would eat anything Mike cooked.”
“No, but we could eat them.”
When the food actually comes, they all manage to do as Tom asked - and surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that hard to fake. Maybe it was the increasing amount of wine that was being poured or the steady flow of easy banter, but Mike’s cooking didn’t seem half bad.
Misha is telling him a story that involves goats and a Sherpa with only one eye that should be riveting, but Jensen keeps picking up bits and pieces of other conversations around the table that catch his attention - one particular conversation, to be precise.
“...I don’t care if you think you’re Anne fuckin’ Frank. Next time you pull shit like that, I’m going to hunt you down and drag your ass back to Vancouver myself. You hear me?” Tom is saying, body angled towards Jared and a serious expression on his face.
Jared just sort of nods half-heartedly.
Genevieve, who is also apparently included, is nodding like she knows what he’s talking about. “I tried to get him to just pick up the phone once in a blue moon,” she says sarcastically. “That is, when I could get a hold of him.”
Jensen blinks, because what? He’d just assumed that they were living together.
“Do you guys mind? I’m sitting right here.” Jared says, gesturing to his place at the table. Then he lets out a heavy sigh, staring at a stray mushroom left on one corner of his empty plate. “I was just...I didn’t feel like I could come back to this. Maybe I was worried it wouldn’t be the same.” The rest of the table falls quiet and Jared looks up and turns slightly pink, realizing how much of the attention he currently holds.
Mike breaks the silence by chuckling. “Little did you know, none of us have changed.” He picks up a nearly empty bottle of red and mimes a toast with it, pouring out the remnants into the nearest glasses.
With a small, sad smile, Jared casts his eyes downwards. “That right?” he asks, and it’s so damn quiet but Jensen hears loud and clear.
There’s a pause. “I know what he means,” and it’s Danneel’s voice but Jensen still finds himself glancing up sharply and looking around for the source. “I was nervous about coming here. In fact, I was determined not to have a good time.” She admits.
“But you are,” Mike finishes for her, clearly taking credit.
Jensen gathers some courage. “So why do you think that is?” He asks, making a point of looking at everyone around the table even though his eyes come to a full stop on Jared. “It’s been awhile, I know that. But what seemed so damn hard? Because this - this I remember. This is easy.” He nods at the table, at the dirty dishes and familiar expressions looking back at him.
“A lot has happened in three years.” Danneel speaks up again, and she meets his gaze calmly. “Maybe I was afraid that back then it was just a phase we were going through.”
Jensen frowns at her. “What was?”
She takes a sip of wine. “Our commitment to one another.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Jensen mutters, tipping his chair back on its rear legs. “We were good people then and we’re all assholes now?” He can feel Jared studying him but he forces himself not to look, because this isn’t their story - this moment does not belong to them. Not right now, not here in front of the prying eyes of all their friends - and it doesn’t belong to him and Danneel either.
“Speak for yourself.” Mike says, looking serious for the first time since his outburst the night before. “I know that I love each and every person in this room just as much as I did back then. And I’ll go on believing that until I kick.”
Silence falls over the dining room. Then, “Even Chad?” Genevieve asks, smile playing at her lips.
Mike bobs his head. “Even Chad.”
Whether he’s truly touched or he’s just had too much to drink - it’s hard to tell sometimes - Chad raises his glass with a grin. “Thanks, man.” He says sincerely, and Jensen lets go of the breath he’d been holding on to and laughs.
A hand reaches across his chest - he’s not quite sure who the owner is - and passes him the end of a fairly well-used joint. There’s music playing and people are laughing way too loud, usually the first indicator that everyone is at their limit and then some.
He focuses just long enough to get a nice, deep drag before passing it to Mike, who’s lying on the couch beside him. “Holy hell.” Jensen coughs, because Jesus, that is some potent pot. “Say what you will about the guy, Chad always has the best shit.”
“Right?” Mike hums beside him, nodding across the room. “But at the moment, the dude’s making the moves on your girl - friend - whatever.” He sighs, giving up.
Jensen watches the ongoing poker game that’s taking place in the middle of the den. Currently, Chad is doing some kind of victory dance in his seat and sweeping an armful of chips toward himself. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” he exclaims, and sure enough he’s eye-raping the fuck out of Danneel - and Genevieve, for that matter.
“Chad is making the moves on that table, man.” Jensen snorts, unconcerned.
Misha is sitting there as well, trying to balance his attention between his cards and the man currently gyrating across fro mhim. “Winner, winner, chicken...” he repeats, trailing off. “Are you for real? I seriously want to know.”
Eventually Mike mentions something about going to find Tom, and after he stumbles away from the couch, Jensen glances across and notices Jared on the opposite end.
“Hey,” Jensen nods, and he must be drunker than he thought, because he hadn’t even realized Jared was there. “Want a hit?” He asks, holding out the blunt.
Jared doesn’t even hesitate. “Fuck, that’s strong.” He chokes, blowing out a puff of smoke.
Jensen smirks. “So - are you going to go rescue Gen?” he asks, nodding towards the other group.
Looking confused, Jared follows his gaze. “From what? Losing all her money?”
“From Chad.” Jensen supplies.
Jared frowns. “Gen can take care of herself.”
Making a sound of understanding, Jensen nods to himself and lets out an inebriated giggle - okay, he’s definitely pissed and maybe now a little stoned as well. With liquid courage under his belt and the sudden urge to be a bit of an asshole, he opens his mouth to make a crack about open relationships, but stops himself.
“Okay, I’m out.” Danneel’s voice distracts him. He looks over to see her slumped in her chair, cards and chips forgotten. “I don’t want to go to bed, but I’m going to have to. I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Chad quirks an eyebrow. “But you don’t want to?” he repeats back, looking worryingly fiendish.
“But I’ve gotta.” Danneel reasserts in dismay.
“Not necessarily.” Chad says, catching her eye and noticing her interest. “Come with me.” He holds out a hand and Danneel takes it.
Jensen watches them get up from the table. They’re sporting matching grins of mischief, and although yeah, he’s pretty curious, he surprises himself by feeling no further intent to get up and find out where they’re going. He’s got a pretty good idea.
Even so, he finds it fairly amusing. He holds out a hand and points, tracking their progress as they pass by and head to the stairway, but when he looks beside him to say something to Jared, he’s not sitting there anymore. Jensen is starting to wonder how he keeps doing that.
“What were you talking about tonight at dinner?”
Jensen rolls over in his bed, heaving a tired sigh and staring at the wall. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.” He slurs. He’s still kind of drunk, but not in the giddy, easy-going way. All that’s left over is the eye-drooping fatigue and a mouth dryer than the Serengeti.
Danneel won’t turn off her bedside lamp. “What you said about us now. Commitment.” She says, and her voice is a little too loud and staccato.
“You said that. Not me.” He tries to close his eyes.
“No, you said we were great three years ago and assholes now.” She recites back to him. “What did you mean by that? Did you mean us? You and me?”
That’s it. He gives up on trying to sleep and rolls over, taking a good look at her for the first time since coming up to bed. She’s sitting against her headboard and a stack of pillows, but her hair’s a little dishevelled and there’s black mascara smudged under one eye. His gaze moves to where her fingers are anxiously worrying the hem of her blankets, her feet jerking in a steady rhythm underneath.
He shakes his head. “This is truly a charming side of you,” he tells her sarcastically. “Remind me to score you some more cocaine off of Chad in the morning.” He beats his pillow with his fist a few times before sinking back into it.
“Are you going to answer my question?” She prompts as if he’d never said anything.
Jensen sighs again, scrubbing his eyes. He’s too tired to do this right now. “I don’t know, Danneel...”
“Because you were the one who didn’t want to get married.” She interrupts, sitting still long enough to stare at him so hard Jensen feels it go through his skull and straight through the beige wallpaper to the next room.
It should make him mad. He should get frustrated. In the last year or so of living together she’s made the statement enough times that this should be the final straw, but Jensen can’t unbury any other emotion but bone-weary fatigue. “No,” he says quietly. “I asked you. You didn’t want to get married either. We weren’t that couple.”
She laughs so loudly Jensen is worried she’ll wake up the entire house. “When your boyfriend comes to you and says, ‘So, uh, you don’t need a proposal or anything, right?’ - you kind of just need to go with it.” If that’s her impression of his voice, it needs work.
Jensen flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “You’re in no shape to talk about this right now.” He says reasonably, because if he has a flagellation to go to, he’d much prefer if Danneel weren’t jacked up on crack for the main event.
By some miracle, she falls silent after that - or as silent as possible. The bedsprings still creak in time with her movements, and he can still hear the steady swish of cotton on cotton. But it’s quiet enough, and just as the first vestiges of sleep are pulling him down, Danneel starts talking again. “You know, Jared and Gen aren’t together. Not together, together. Not anymore.” She sounds like a thirteen-year-old gossiping at a slumber party.
It’s enough to make him sit up. “What?”
Danneel tilts her head slightly and gives him this faintly sad, unsurprised little smile. “She assumed you were thinking that, too.” She tells him, like she’s letting him in on a dirty little secret. “Actually, everyone was counting on it. It’s the pessimist in you.”
Wait, back up. “Everyone was counting on it?” He repeats, and what the fuck? Because it’s really late and he’s still way too inebriated to try and figure all this out on his own. “What is this, some kind of orchestrated act everyone has been putting on all weekend? Let’s fuck with Jensen’s mind for fun?” He demands, feeling close to hysterics.
“Okay, calm down, Nixon.” Danneel derides and her hands are fidgeting even faster now, like she’s regretting ever having opened her mouth in the first place. “I didn’t tell you so you could act like a freak.” She starts to chew on one of her nails.
And there’s that, as well. “Why did you tell me?” He asks, feeling his eyebrows knit together.
She glances at him sideways once before looking away, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the bedspread. “She told me Jared ended it before you and I moved out to LA - Gen , I mean. Gen told me. Today.” She starts jiggling her foot even faster, and just as she looks as though she’s going to stop talking altogether, she casts him another hesitant glance. “But I knew back when it happened. She called me right before we left.”
He feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Three years ago?” The words barely make it past his lips.
Danneel nods jerkily. “They stayed friends because it had always been just the physical - these are her words, not mine.” It’s spilling out of her at a rate so fast that neither of them are able to keep up. “Gen says they try to keep in touch but she only gets to see him once a month or less because he moves around so much, and sometimes she’ll go for weeks at a time not even knowing where he is...”
Even though she’s still talking Jensen is done. He feels himself pulling back the covers on autopilot, rising from the mattress and picking up his boots from where he left them strewn across the floor.
“Jensen, where are you going?” Danneel asks, and her voice is anxious in a way that has nothing to do with the drugs.
But he can’t turn and look at her right now. “I need to get some air,” he tosses over his shoulder, yanking his arms through the sleeves of his coat and leaving the room as fast as his legs will carry him. It’s hard though, because they feel a little like jelly and he’s walking in a fog that he so wishes he could blame on being stoned.
It would be nice, but too easy - because there’s betrayal and shock and something that feels suspiciously like hope burning a clear streak through the night and it carries him all the way through the darkened house like a spotlight.
June 2010
The room is cool from a window they left open, but Jensen feels a bead of sweat trail tantalizingly slow down the base of his spine. It sets up an itch he wants to reach for, knows he should scratch, but suddenly every other thing in the universe comes secondary to catching his breath - to feeling this moment crash over him in waves.
He lets his forehead fall forward and rest on the flushed, damp skin of Jared’s shoulder and stays like that, boneless and deflated until he hears a muted noise coming from beneath him.
Jensen looks up. “What?”
“Roll off.”Jared grunts again, neck straining against the pillow. “You’re crushing me, I can’t breathe.”
Quickly and carefully, Jensen pulls free and lets himself fall to the cool, empty space of the mattress beside him. The sheets on that side of the bed are chilly and crisp, but it doesn’t feel like relief. Not like it should. “Sorry,” he breathes, and stares at the ceiling.
The only answer he gets is the sound of squeaking bed springs as Jared moves and resettles his weight.
Heaving a sigh, Jensen closes his eyes briefly. He isn’t tired -but the fact that it’s two in the afternoon could have something to do with that. The last time this happened it was one in the morning, and before that sometime before the sun came up. But now, everything feels just a little crueler in the light of day.
He feels the mattress shift underneath him and turns to find himself face to face with Jared’s back. He stares and reaches out a hand, meaning to touch the smooth, golden skin, but his hand meets some kind of barrier and ends up hovering in the space between for a moment or two before he lets it return uselessly to the bed.
Until he notices the way Jared is breathing - and recognizes it. “Hey,” he says gently, propping himself up on one elbow. “Hey, hey, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Concern bubbles up, bordering on panic, because Jared is crying.
“No,” Jared sniffs, wiping furtively at his eyes and shrugging away when Jensen gets a hand on the side of his neck. “I’m fine.”
Jensen can’t help a mirthless laugh. “Clearly,” He says, hardly relieved. He tries to reach over, struggling to see his face. “Jay, come on. Look at me, are you...?” The words get lost in his throat when Jared finally rolls onto his back. “You’re not okay,” Jensen sighs.
Jared roughly swipes at the evidence with his knuckles, but his eyes are wet and cheeks flushed but more than anything, there’s this hopeless look on his face. “I’m just,” he swallows hard and his hands clench into fists against the blankets. “I’m so angry.”
Jensen deflates. That he gets. That he knew already, but “At me?” still spills from his lips before he can stop it.
But Jared is shaking his head from side to side. “No,” he says tiredly, looking up. “At myself.”
Jensen doesn’t understand. “Jay...”
“I don’t know what we’re doing, Jensen.” Jared snaps, sitting up in bed so fast that their faces nearly collide and Jensen has to scramble back to avoid him. “Or - what I’m doing. I’ve spent the last few weeks attempting to figure out how to be human without you, and maybe I wasn’t doing a very good job of it, but at least I was trying. And now? I keep letting myself make the same stupid mistake over and over.” He rakes a hand through his hair, tension thrumming through his body like a livewire.
He tries not to be hurt by that, and takes it for what it is. “Why does it have to be a mistake?” Jensen asks, because he’s not naive, and he doesn’t want to sound it, but feels like he’s been through an eternity of keeping his mouth shut and maybe it’s not doing anyone any good, after all. “Why can’t it just be...a long goodbye?”
“People shake hands goodbye.” Jared snorts, moving his head furtively. “They hug. This is - I don’t even know what this is, but I can tell you, it’s not helping me.” He gestures angrily at the bed and throws the covers back.
Jensen bites on his lip, watching as Jared bends over to find his shirt and tug it on, eyeing the floor for the rest of his discarded clothes. “Maybe we’re just. Maybe we’re trying to find a way to let one another go.” He starts hopefully. “Somehow that isn’t angry and doesn’t hurt so much.”
Jared stands to pull on his underwear and jeans. “Believe me. People have always been hurt by what we’re doing.” He won’t look up as he struggles with his belt.
He thinks about that, thinks of Danneel and Genevieve. But he sees where this conversation is going and he watches Jared now, realizing how this is about to end, and feels a surge or panic freeze like ice through his veins. “Jared,” he starts, because it’s way too soon even though he’s had nearly a month, and there are words he’s supposed to say now if he only knew what they were.
“I have to...” Jared trails off and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, holding up a hand. “I have to go.” He mutters, retrieving his other shirt and jacket from the floor and clenching them tightly as he reaches for the door.
“I keep thinking about us. Imagining - what would have happened if we’d gotten together just a little earlier.”
Jared stops in the doorway, his back still turned.
Jensen swallows and forces the words past his throat. “If the timing had been right, and we could have had all these other things figured out. Like I would have just been walking down some street. In a completely different time and place, just some crowded street. And I would have seen you - and there would have been something in your eyes, I don’t know. Just - something.” He pauses to catch his breath before the words get away from him. “So that I would have known, just like that. And I would have said ‘There. That person is the one. That’s who I’m meant to be with.’”
There’s a moment after where Jensen is terrified that Jared will just open that door and walk through it, and if it were to happen, he knows he’d have no one to blame but himself. But even so, he isn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself in the aftermath.
There’s a brief hesitation before Jared half turns and just looks at him. He knuckles at the tear that’s trickling down the tip of his nose and gives a small, heartbreaking smile. “And I would’ve been, too.” He says quietly, and with one last look, he walks out and quietly shuts the door behind him.
Present Day
The bottom floor is more or less vacant. The living room is bathed in dim light from forgotten table lamps and soft music is still trickling from the stereo in the corner. Misha is passed out on one of the couches with a hand still clutching at a precariously balanced glass of wine. Jensen sets it on the table as he stumbles to the sliding doors.
He feels himself breathing hard by the time he gets outside, but there’s no helping that. Feeling shaken and senses dulled, he closes his eyes and plants his feet firmly on the porch, hoping it’s the pot that’s making the ground feel as if it’s moving beneath his feet.
“You okay?”
The voice startles him, but with reflexes delayed Jensen slowly opens his eyes and blinks into the darkness. There, in the same spot he was the previous day, is Jared, calmly blowing smoke into the cool night air.
Jensen puts his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he lies, blowing out a deep breath. “Just - really need a cigarette.” Actually, he needs nicotine in a central IV, but hey. He’ll take what he can get.
Jared rests his head back against the pillar, eyebrows disappearing up behind his bangs.
It takes him a couple moments of patting himself down to figure out all he’s got on him is a cellophane wrapper and an old book of matches. In his hurry to vacate the room he’d left his pack up in the bedroom by his suitcase. “Fuck,” Jensen mutters, weighing his options.
Wordlessly, Jared holds out a cigarette of his own.
Wiping sweaty palms on his jeans, Jensen presses his lips together, approaching slowly. “Thanks,” he mutters, accepting the offering hastily and lighting the end as quickly as his shaking fingers will allow. Eyes closed, he savours that few first seconds before sneaking a sideways glance at his companion.
Jared is watching him with an amused expression. “Rough night?”
“Don’t even,” Jensen groans, slowly lowering himself down to sit on the step. “I’ve got an early start on a hangover from hell, my bed has sand in it, and thanks to Chad, I’m now rooming with Whitney Houston.”
That earns him a fairly unsympathetic smirk. “Just like the old days.” Jared says, eyes going distant as he stares out across the courtyard.
He heaves a sigh. “Yeah, well. I think I’m getting a little too old for this.”
“You started saying that when I first met you.” Jared points out.
Blowing smoke from his nose, Jensen nods in agreement. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” He holds his cigarette loosely between his lips, planting his hands on the wood behind his back for support. He knocks his shoulder against Jared’s. “What about you? Can’t sleep?” He asks, because Jared looks so tired - face drawn, expression haggard.
Jared glances at him and then down. “Just thinking.” He drops ash into the ground between his feet and pokes at it with the toe of his shoe.
Jensen sucks in a breath. “Yeah. That’s goin’ around.” He leans against his hands and stares up at the half-moon.
He tries not to let the surprise show on his face when Jared starts talking. “Remember that weekend we went to Tofino? It was late spring, but man, was it cold. And the place we stayed in had no central heating.” He shakes his head at the memory and he seems to disappear, like the story is playing out before his eyes. “I tried to learn how to surf but ended up spending more time on my ass than actually standing on the board. I swallowed so much salt water that I was sick that night. You made a fire and soup and we watched Disclosure.”
It’s impossible not to stare by that point. “You’ve got a good memory.” Jensen says, but of course he remembers - down to the very last detail.
Jared flinches like he’s coming out of a daydream and sucks on the end of his cigarette. “Yeah.”
They sit in silence a moment longer until Jensen can’t stand it any longer. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Gen?” he asks, turning to stare at the moonlit profile.
With a shrug, like he’s completely unsurprised that Jensen figured it out, Jared looks up at the night sky. “Just figured it would be easier this way.” He says calmly. “For everyone.”
Jensen wonders if it’s opposite day and nobody gave him the memo. “Easier?” He chokes out the word, squinting like looking at it from a different angle is going to make it easier to understand. “You think finding this out three years later is easy for me? Jesus Christ, Jared, I don’t...how am I supposed to...” he trails off and lets the words hang unspoken in the air.
“It’s not like things would have been any different if you’d known.” Jared says, like he’s stating an obvious fact.
He’s glad Jared is looking at him now, so he can see the stare of disbelief Jensen is giving him. “How do you know that?” He demands, feeling a shake start up in his hands again. “What the fuck gave you the right to make that decision for me? You don’t know what I would’ve done if...”
“Yes I do.” Jared says quietly, resignedly.
Jensen wants to get up and pace. He wants to wear a track down in the strip of grass that flanks the stone walkway. And right now his legs feel like they’re made of lead and the ground may be damp beneath his jeans, but Jared is sitting close enough beside him for their knees to touch, and maybe he’s not ready to give that up just yet. “You know, you’re not always right about everything.” Jensen finishes his cigarette and turns to watch Jared take a drag of his own. “And I want you to quit this shit.” Impulsively he reaches out and pulls the tip from between Jared’s lips, stubbing it out angrily.
Looking a little shocked, Jared says nothing.
Letting out a slow breath of defeat, Jensen leans back against the steps and studies the moon. “I thought I finally had this beat. But seeing you again and now knowing this, I don’t know.” He shakes his head as he feels Jared match his position beside him. “I’ve just been here so long.”
He doesn’t explain that here isn’t on this porch, or at Mike’s house, or even Vancouver - and he doesn’t really need to, because he hears Jared swallow hard and feels him give a small, knowing nod of agreement.
Jensen sighs. “Guess I’ll be here a little longer.”
The sky seems to change colours as they stay that way, even though it can’t be more than a few minutes that tick by before Jared says, “Do you want to go jogging with me in the morning?”
“Yeah,” Jensen doesn’t even have to think about it.
Jared gives another slow nod. “Okay. Then you should probably try to get a little bit of sleep.” He gestures towards the house using only his eyes.
It sounds like a good idea. His head is starting to throb a little, and his body feels like things are about to start falling off. But as he slowly peels himself up from the hardwood, Jared shows zero intent on getting up to follow him. “You not coming in?” he asks.
“Nah,” Jared breathes, looking more relaxed than Jensen can remember seeing him since they’ve arrived. “Think I’m going to stay out here for a bit.”
Jensen stops and looks down at the younger man, frowning. Suddenly, his bed doesn’t seem all that appealing after all. “Okay,” he lets himself slink back down onto the steps, struggling to find the same somewhat comfortable position he’d managed to fit into before. “Sounds good to me.” He sighs, and tucks a hand behind his head.
They stay that way until the birds start chirping and the stars fall away from the sky.
To be continued.
Author: vicious_trade
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set three years in the future. When a friend passes away, Jensen flies to Vancouver for the funeral and somehow gets coerced into spending the weekend with more than a few familiar faces. He's pretty sure that if he can put the past behind them, drink enough beer, and stop himself from killing Chad, it'll be just like the old days. If he could just get Jared out of his head. A retelling of the Big Chill. Warnings/Spoilers: Set assuming Supernatural ends after the fifth season. F-bombs galore, features some Jensen/Danneel and Tom/Mike. And Chad. Seriously, you've been warned.
AN: Party of Five, anyone?
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
Present Day
At the fifth reverberating bang of metal on metal emanating from behind the closed kitchen door, Jensen covers his smile with his wine glass, glancing around the table. Tom has his gaze fixed unseeingly ahead, but he jumps with every crash of pots and pans like remaining in his chair is taking every last shred of willpower in his body.
A muffled, “Mother-fucking-shit-hole!” comes from the next room.
Genevieve puts her elbows on the table and stares down at her empty plate hopelessly. “This is it.” She moans, and someone’s stomach growls audibly. “This is how I’m going to die.”
“Surely he’s not going to starve us,” Danneel says reasonably, but she’s looking around like she hopes someone is going to answer. “But then, which is the lesser of two evils? Hunger might take days, but E Coli...”
“That’s it.” Chad announces, throwing down his unused napkin and impatiently slapping his hands on his thighs. “I’m not going out like this - there’s a lot left I still want to do with my life.”
Jensen feigns excitement. “Star in a movie alongside of Hilary Duff? Wait. Already done that.”
“Shut up. I’m making a break for it.” Chad gets up from his chair. “I’m going to try the back door. Misha, you with me?”
Misha looks up, bewildered. “Isn’t that language a little inappropriate for the dinner table?”
Now Tom looks irritated. “Would everyone shut the hell up? Chad, sit your ass back down. No one is leaving.” He sends a string of glares around the table, arms crossed sternly in front of his chest. “Mike worked really hard on this meal. Yes, it’s taken him four hours, and okay, I’m not too excited about eating it either, but damn it, you’re all going to choke it down, make yummy noises, and tell him you it was delicious. You got it?”
Chad’s mouth twitches as he slowly walks back to his seat. “Daddy’s getting angry...”
“Sit.” Tom hisses, and the venom in his voice has everyone looking down at their hands like chastised Sunday school students.
Heavy silences have never been his forte. Sneaking a look up, Jensen leans to his left, pleased not for the first time that Jared had chosen the seat beside his. “You should have brought your dogs, Jay.” He mutters under his breath.
Jared glances at him, smirking. “I don’t think Harley or Sadie would eat anything Mike cooked.”
“No, but we could eat them.”
When the food actually comes, they all manage to do as Tom asked - and surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that hard to fake. Maybe it was the increasing amount of wine that was being poured or the steady flow of easy banter, but Mike’s cooking didn’t seem half bad.
Misha is telling him a story that involves goats and a Sherpa with only one eye that should be riveting, but Jensen keeps picking up bits and pieces of other conversations around the table that catch his attention - one particular conversation, to be precise.
“...I don’t care if you think you’re Anne fuckin’ Frank. Next time you pull shit like that, I’m going to hunt you down and drag your ass back to Vancouver myself. You hear me?” Tom is saying, body angled towards Jared and a serious expression on his face.
Jared just sort of nods half-heartedly.
Genevieve, who is also apparently included, is nodding like she knows what he’s talking about. “I tried to get him to just pick up the phone once in a blue moon,” she says sarcastically. “That is, when I could get a hold of him.”
Jensen blinks, because what? He’d just assumed that they were living together.
“Do you guys mind? I’m sitting right here.” Jared says, gesturing to his place at the table. Then he lets out a heavy sigh, staring at a stray mushroom left on one corner of his empty plate. “I was just...I didn’t feel like I could come back to this. Maybe I was worried it wouldn’t be the same.” The rest of the table falls quiet and Jared looks up and turns slightly pink, realizing how much of the attention he currently holds.
Mike breaks the silence by chuckling. “Little did you know, none of us have changed.” He picks up a nearly empty bottle of red and mimes a toast with it, pouring out the remnants into the nearest glasses.
With a small, sad smile, Jared casts his eyes downwards. “That right?” he asks, and it’s so damn quiet but Jensen hears loud and clear.
There’s a pause. “I know what he means,” and it’s Danneel’s voice but Jensen still finds himself glancing up sharply and looking around for the source. “I was nervous about coming here. In fact, I was determined not to have a good time.” She admits.
“But you are,” Mike finishes for her, clearly taking credit.
Jensen gathers some courage. “So why do you think that is?” He asks, making a point of looking at everyone around the table even though his eyes come to a full stop on Jared. “It’s been awhile, I know that. But what seemed so damn hard? Because this - this I remember. This is easy.” He nods at the table, at the dirty dishes and familiar expressions looking back at him.
“A lot has happened in three years.” Danneel speaks up again, and she meets his gaze calmly. “Maybe I was afraid that back then it was just a phase we were going through.”
Jensen frowns at her. “What was?”
She takes a sip of wine. “Our commitment to one another.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Jensen mutters, tipping his chair back on its rear legs. “We were good people then and we’re all assholes now?” He can feel Jared studying him but he forces himself not to look, because this isn’t their story - this moment does not belong to them. Not right now, not here in front of the prying eyes of all their friends - and it doesn’t belong to him and Danneel either.
“Speak for yourself.” Mike says, looking serious for the first time since his outburst the night before. “I know that I love each and every person in this room just as much as I did back then. And I’ll go on believing that until I kick.”
Silence falls over the dining room. Then, “Even Chad?” Genevieve asks, smile playing at her lips.
Mike bobs his head. “Even Chad.”
Whether he’s truly touched or he’s just had too much to drink - it’s hard to tell sometimes - Chad raises his glass with a grin. “Thanks, man.” He says sincerely, and Jensen lets go of the breath he’d been holding on to and laughs.
A hand reaches across his chest - he’s not quite sure who the owner is - and passes him the end of a fairly well-used joint. There’s music playing and people are laughing way too loud, usually the first indicator that everyone is at their limit and then some.
He focuses just long enough to get a nice, deep drag before passing it to Mike, who’s lying on the couch beside him. “Holy hell.” Jensen coughs, because Jesus, that is some potent pot. “Say what you will about the guy, Chad always has the best shit.”
“Right?” Mike hums beside him, nodding across the room. “But at the moment, the dude’s making the moves on your girl - friend - whatever.” He sighs, giving up.
Jensen watches the ongoing poker game that’s taking place in the middle of the den. Currently, Chad is doing some kind of victory dance in his seat and sweeping an armful of chips toward himself. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” he exclaims, and sure enough he’s eye-raping the fuck out of Danneel - and Genevieve, for that matter.
“Chad is making the moves on that table, man.” Jensen snorts, unconcerned.
Misha is sitting there as well, trying to balance his attention between his cards and the man currently gyrating across fro mhim. “Winner, winner, chicken...” he repeats, trailing off. “Are you for real? I seriously want to know.”
Eventually Mike mentions something about going to find Tom, and after he stumbles away from the couch, Jensen glances across and notices Jared on the opposite end.
“Hey,” Jensen nods, and he must be drunker than he thought, because he hadn’t even realized Jared was there. “Want a hit?” He asks, holding out the blunt.
Jared doesn’t even hesitate. “Fuck, that’s strong.” He chokes, blowing out a puff of smoke.
Jensen smirks. “So - are you going to go rescue Gen?” he asks, nodding towards the other group.
Looking confused, Jared follows his gaze. “From what? Losing all her money?”
“From Chad.” Jensen supplies.
Jared frowns. “Gen can take care of herself.”
Making a sound of understanding, Jensen nods to himself and lets out an inebriated giggle - okay, he’s definitely pissed and maybe now a little stoned as well. With liquid courage under his belt and the sudden urge to be a bit of an asshole, he opens his mouth to make a crack about open relationships, but stops himself.
“Okay, I’m out.” Danneel’s voice distracts him. He looks over to see her slumped in her chair, cards and chips forgotten. “I don’t want to go to bed, but I’m going to have to. I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Chad quirks an eyebrow. “But you don’t want to?” he repeats back, looking worryingly fiendish.
“But I’ve gotta.” Danneel reasserts in dismay.
“Not necessarily.” Chad says, catching her eye and noticing her interest. “Come with me.” He holds out a hand and Danneel takes it.
Jensen watches them get up from the table. They’re sporting matching grins of mischief, and although yeah, he’s pretty curious, he surprises himself by feeling no further intent to get up and find out where they’re going. He’s got a pretty good idea.
Even so, he finds it fairly amusing. He holds out a hand and points, tracking their progress as they pass by and head to the stairway, but when he looks beside him to say something to Jared, he’s not sitting there anymore. Jensen is starting to wonder how he keeps doing that.
“What were you talking about tonight at dinner?”
Jensen rolls over in his bed, heaving a tired sigh and staring at the wall. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.” He slurs. He’s still kind of drunk, but not in the giddy, easy-going way. All that’s left over is the eye-drooping fatigue and a mouth dryer than the Serengeti.
Danneel won’t turn off her bedside lamp. “What you said about us now. Commitment.” She says, and her voice is a little too loud and staccato.
“You said that. Not me.” He tries to close his eyes.
“No, you said we were great three years ago and assholes now.” She recites back to him. “What did you mean by that? Did you mean us? You and me?”
That’s it. He gives up on trying to sleep and rolls over, taking a good look at her for the first time since coming up to bed. She’s sitting against her headboard and a stack of pillows, but her hair’s a little dishevelled and there’s black mascara smudged under one eye. His gaze moves to where her fingers are anxiously worrying the hem of her blankets, her feet jerking in a steady rhythm underneath.
He shakes his head. “This is truly a charming side of you,” he tells her sarcastically. “Remind me to score you some more cocaine off of Chad in the morning.” He beats his pillow with his fist a few times before sinking back into it.
“Are you going to answer my question?” She prompts as if he’d never said anything.
Jensen sighs again, scrubbing his eyes. He’s too tired to do this right now. “I don’t know, Danneel...”
“Because you were the one who didn’t want to get married.” She interrupts, sitting still long enough to stare at him so hard Jensen feels it go through his skull and straight through the beige wallpaper to the next room.
It should make him mad. He should get frustrated. In the last year or so of living together she’s made the statement enough times that this should be the final straw, but Jensen can’t unbury any other emotion but bone-weary fatigue. “No,” he says quietly. “I asked you. You didn’t want to get married either. We weren’t that couple.”
She laughs so loudly Jensen is worried she’ll wake up the entire house. “When your boyfriend comes to you and says, ‘So, uh, you don’t need a proposal or anything, right?’ - you kind of just need to go with it.” If that’s her impression of his voice, it needs work.
Jensen flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “You’re in no shape to talk about this right now.” He says reasonably, because if he has a flagellation to go to, he’d much prefer if Danneel weren’t jacked up on crack for the main event.
By some miracle, she falls silent after that - or as silent as possible. The bedsprings still creak in time with her movements, and he can still hear the steady swish of cotton on cotton. But it’s quiet enough, and just as the first vestiges of sleep are pulling him down, Danneel starts talking again. “You know, Jared and Gen aren’t together. Not together, together. Not anymore.” She sounds like a thirteen-year-old gossiping at a slumber party.
It’s enough to make him sit up. “What?”
Danneel tilts her head slightly and gives him this faintly sad, unsurprised little smile. “She assumed you were thinking that, too.” She tells him, like she’s letting him in on a dirty little secret. “Actually, everyone was counting on it. It’s the pessimist in you.”
Wait, back up. “Everyone was counting on it?” He repeats, and what the fuck? Because it’s really late and he’s still way too inebriated to try and figure all this out on his own. “What is this, some kind of orchestrated act everyone has been putting on all weekend? Let’s fuck with Jensen’s mind for fun?” He demands, feeling close to hysterics.
“Okay, calm down, Nixon.” Danneel derides and her hands are fidgeting even faster now, like she’s regretting ever having opened her mouth in the first place. “I didn’t tell you so you could act like a freak.” She starts to chew on one of her nails.
And there’s that, as well. “Why did you tell me?” He asks, feeling his eyebrows knit together.
She glances at him sideways once before looking away, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the bedspread. “She told me Jared ended it before you and I moved out to LA - Gen , I mean. Gen told me. Today.” She starts jiggling her foot even faster, and just as she looks as though she’s going to stop talking altogether, she casts him another hesitant glance. “But I knew back when it happened. She called me right before we left.”
He feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Three years ago?” The words barely make it past his lips.
Danneel nods jerkily. “They stayed friends because it had always been just the physical - these are her words, not mine.” It’s spilling out of her at a rate so fast that neither of them are able to keep up. “Gen says they try to keep in touch but she only gets to see him once a month or less because he moves around so much, and sometimes she’ll go for weeks at a time not even knowing where he is...”
Even though she’s still talking Jensen is done. He feels himself pulling back the covers on autopilot, rising from the mattress and picking up his boots from where he left them strewn across the floor.
“Jensen, where are you going?” Danneel asks, and her voice is anxious in a way that has nothing to do with the drugs.
But he can’t turn and look at her right now. “I need to get some air,” he tosses over his shoulder, yanking his arms through the sleeves of his coat and leaving the room as fast as his legs will carry him. It’s hard though, because they feel a little like jelly and he’s walking in a fog that he so wishes he could blame on being stoned.
It would be nice, but too easy - because there’s betrayal and shock and something that feels suspiciously like hope burning a clear streak through the night and it carries him all the way through the darkened house like a spotlight.
June 2010
The room is cool from a window they left open, but Jensen feels a bead of sweat trail tantalizingly slow down the base of his spine. It sets up an itch he wants to reach for, knows he should scratch, but suddenly every other thing in the universe comes secondary to catching his breath - to feeling this moment crash over him in waves.
He lets his forehead fall forward and rest on the flushed, damp skin of Jared’s shoulder and stays like that, boneless and deflated until he hears a muted noise coming from beneath him.
Jensen looks up. “What?”
“Roll off.”Jared grunts again, neck straining against the pillow. “You’re crushing me, I can’t breathe.”
Quickly and carefully, Jensen pulls free and lets himself fall to the cool, empty space of the mattress beside him. The sheets on that side of the bed are chilly and crisp, but it doesn’t feel like relief. Not like it should. “Sorry,” he breathes, and stares at the ceiling.
The only answer he gets is the sound of squeaking bed springs as Jared moves and resettles his weight.
Heaving a sigh, Jensen closes his eyes briefly. He isn’t tired -but the fact that it’s two in the afternoon could have something to do with that. The last time this happened it was one in the morning, and before that sometime before the sun came up. But now, everything feels just a little crueler in the light of day.
He feels the mattress shift underneath him and turns to find himself face to face with Jared’s back. He stares and reaches out a hand, meaning to touch the smooth, golden skin, but his hand meets some kind of barrier and ends up hovering in the space between for a moment or two before he lets it return uselessly to the bed.
Until he notices the way Jared is breathing - and recognizes it. “Hey,” he says gently, propping himself up on one elbow. “Hey, hey, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Concern bubbles up, bordering on panic, because Jared is crying.
“No,” Jared sniffs, wiping furtively at his eyes and shrugging away when Jensen gets a hand on the side of his neck. “I’m fine.”
Jensen can’t help a mirthless laugh. “Clearly,” He says, hardly relieved. He tries to reach over, struggling to see his face. “Jay, come on. Look at me, are you...?” The words get lost in his throat when Jared finally rolls onto his back. “You’re not okay,” Jensen sighs.
Jared roughly swipes at the evidence with his knuckles, but his eyes are wet and cheeks flushed but more than anything, there’s this hopeless look on his face. “I’m just,” he swallows hard and his hands clench into fists against the blankets. “I’m so angry.”
Jensen deflates. That he gets. That he knew already, but “At me?” still spills from his lips before he can stop it.
But Jared is shaking his head from side to side. “No,” he says tiredly, looking up. “At myself.”
Jensen doesn’t understand. “Jay...”
“I don’t know what we’re doing, Jensen.” Jared snaps, sitting up in bed so fast that their faces nearly collide and Jensen has to scramble back to avoid him. “Or - what I’m doing. I’ve spent the last few weeks attempting to figure out how to be human without you, and maybe I wasn’t doing a very good job of it, but at least I was trying. And now? I keep letting myself make the same stupid mistake over and over.” He rakes a hand through his hair, tension thrumming through his body like a livewire.
He tries not to be hurt by that, and takes it for what it is. “Why does it have to be a mistake?” Jensen asks, because he’s not naive, and he doesn’t want to sound it, but feels like he’s been through an eternity of keeping his mouth shut and maybe it’s not doing anyone any good, after all. “Why can’t it just be...a long goodbye?”
“People shake hands goodbye.” Jared snorts, moving his head furtively. “They hug. This is - I don’t even know what this is, but I can tell you, it’s not helping me.” He gestures angrily at the bed and throws the covers back.
Jensen bites on his lip, watching as Jared bends over to find his shirt and tug it on, eyeing the floor for the rest of his discarded clothes. “Maybe we’re just. Maybe we’re trying to find a way to let one another go.” He starts hopefully. “Somehow that isn’t angry and doesn’t hurt so much.”
Jared stands to pull on his underwear and jeans. “Believe me. People have always been hurt by what we’re doing.” He won’t look up as he struggles with his belt.
He thinks about that, thinks of Danneel and Genevieve. But he sees where this conversation is going and he watches Jared now, realizing how this is about to end, and feels a surge or panic freeze like ice through his veins. “Jared,” he starts, because it’s way too soon even though he’s had nearly a month, and there are words he’s supposed to say now if he only knew what they were.
“I have to...” Jared trails off and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, holding up a hand. “I have to go.” He mutters, retrieving his other shirt and jacket from the floor and clenching them tightly as he reaches for the door.
“I keep thinking about us. Imagining - what would have happened if we’d gotten together just a little earlier.”
Jared stops in the doorway, his back still turned.
Jensen swallows and forces the words past his throat. “If the timing had been right, and we could have had all these other things figured out. Like I would have just been walking down some street. In a completely different time and place, just some crowded street. And I would have seen you - and there would have been something in your eyes, I don’t know. Just - something.” He pauses to catch his breath before the words get away from him. “So that I would have known, just like that. And I would have said ‘There. That person is the one. That’s who I’m meant to be with.’”
There’s a moment after where Jensen is terrified that Jared will just open that door and walk through it, and if it were to happen, he knows he’d have no one to blame but himself. But even so, he isn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself in the aftermath.
There’s a brief hesitation before Jared half turns and just looks at him. He knuckles at the tear that’s trickling down the tip of his nose and gives a small, heartbreaking smile. “And I would’ve been, too.” He says quietly, and with one last look, he walks out and quietly shuts the door behind him.
Present Day
The bottom floor is more or less vacant. The living room is bathed in dim light from forgotten table lamps and soft music is still trickling from the stereo in the corner. Misha is passed out on one of the couches with a hand still clutching at a precariously balanced glass of wine. Jensen sets it on the table as he stumbles to the sliding doors.
He feels himself breathing hard by the time he gets outside, but there’s no helping that. Feeling shaken and senses dulled, he closes his eyes and plants his feet firmly on the porch, hoping it’s the pot that’s making the ground feel as if it’s moving beneath his feet.
“You okay?”
The voice startles him, but with reflexes delayed Jensen slowly opens his eyes and blinks into the darkness. There, in the same spot he was the previous day, is Jared, calmly blowing smoke into the cool night air.
Jensen puts his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he lies, blowing out a deep breath. “Just - really need a cigarette.” Actually, he needs nicotine in a central IV, but hey. He’ll take what he can get.
Jared rests his head back against the pillar, eyebrows disappearing up behind his bangs.
It takes him a couple moments of patting himself down to figure out all he’s got on him is a cellophane wrapper and an old book of matches. In his hurry to vacate the room he’d left his pack up in the bedroom by his suitcase. “Fuck,” Jensen mutters, weighing his options.
Wordlessly, Jared holds out a cigarette of his own.
Wiping sweaty palms on his jeans, Jensen presses his lips together, approaching slowly. “Thanks,” he mutters, accepting the offering hastily and lighting the end as quickly as his shaking fingers will allow. Eyes closed, he savours that few first seconds before sneaking a sideways glance at his companion.
Jared is watching him with an amused expression. “Rough night?”
“Don’t even,” Jensen groans, slowly lowering himself down to sit on the step. “I’ve got an early start on a hangover from hell, my bed has sand in it, and thanks to Chad, I’m now rooming with Whitney Houston.”
That earns him a fairly unsympathetic smirk. “Just like the old days.” Jared says, eyes going distant as he stares out across the courtyard.
He heaves a sigh. “Yeah, well. I think I’m getting a little too old for this.”
“You started saying that when I first met you.” Jared points out.
Blowing smoke from his nose, Jensen nods in agreement. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” He holds his cigarette loosely between his lips, planting his hands on the wood behind his back for support. He knocks his shoulder against Jared’s. “What about you? Can’t sleep?” He asks, because Jared looks so tired - face drawn, expression haggard.
Jared glances at him and then down. “Just thinking.” He drops ash into the ground between his feet and pokes at it with the toe of his shoe.
Jensen sucks in a breath. “Yeah. That’s goin’ around.” He leans against his hands and stares up at the half-moon.
He tries not to let the surprise show on his face when Jared starts talking. “Remember that weekend we went to Tofino? It was late spring, but man, was it cold. And the place we stayed in had no central heating.” He shakes his head at the memory and he seems to disappear, like the story is playing out before his eyes. “I tried to learn how to surf but ended up spending more time on my ass than actually standing on the board. I swallowed so much salt water that I was sick that night. You made a fire and soup and we watched Disclosure.”
It’s impossible not to stare by that point. “You’ve got a good memory.” Jensen says, but of course he remembers - down to the very last detail.
Jared flinches like he’s coming out of a daydream and sucks on the end of his cigarette. “Yeah.”
They sit in silence a moment longer until Jensen can’t stand it any longer. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Gen?” he asks, turning to stare at the moonlit profile.
With a shrug, like he’s completely unsurprised that Jensen figured it out, Jared looks up at the night sky. “Just figured it would be easier this way.” He says calmly. “For everyone.”
Jensen wonders if it’s opposite day and nobody gave him the memo. “Easier?” He chokes out the word, squinting like looking at it from a different angle is going to make it easier to understand. “You think finding this out three years later is easy for me? Jesus Christ, Jared, I don’t...how am I supposed to...” he trails off and lets the words hang unspoken in the air.
“It’s not like things would have been any different if you’d known.” Jared says, like he’s stating an obvious fact.
He’s glad Jared is looking at him now, so he can see the stare of disbelief Jensen is giving him. “How do you know that?” He demands, feeling a shake start up in his hands again. “What the fuck gave you the right to make that decision for me? You don’t know what I would’ve done if...”
“Yes I do.” Jared says quietly, resignedly.
Jensen wants to get up and pace. He wants to wear a track down in the strip of grass that flanks the stone walkway. And right now his legs feel like they’re made of lead and the ground may be damp beneath his jeans, but Jared is sitting close enough beside him for their knees to touch, and maybe he’s not ready to give that up just yet. “You know, you’re not always right about everything.” Jensen finishes his cigarette and turns to watch Jared take a drag of his own. “And I want you to quit this shit.” Impulsively he reaches out and pulls the tip from between Jared’s lips, stubbing it out angrily.
Looking a little shocked, Jared says nothing.
Letting out a slow breath of defeat, Jensen leans back against the steps and studies the moon. “I thought I finally had this beat. But seeing you again and now knowing this, I don’t know.” He shakes his head as he feels Jared match his position beside him. “I’ve just been here so long.”
He doesn’t explain that here isn’t on this porch, or at Mike’s house, or even Vancouver - and he doesn’t really need to, because he hears Jared swallow hard and feels him give a small, knowing nod of agreement.
Jensen sighs. “Guess I’ll be here a little longer.”
The sky seems to change colours as they stay that way, even though it can’t be more than a few minutes that tick by before Jared says, “Do you want to go jogging with me in the morning?”
“Yeah,” Jensen doesn’t even have to think about it.
Jared gives another slow nod. “Okay. Then you should probably try to get a little bit of sleep.” He gestures towards the house using only his eyes.
It sounds like a good idea. His head is starting to throb a little, and his body feels like things are about to start falling off. But as he slowly peels himself up from the hardwood, Jared shows zero intent on getting up to follow him. “You not coming in?” he asks.
“Nah,” Jared breathes, looking more relaxed than Jensen can remember seeing him since they’ve arrived. “Think I’m going to stay out here for a bit.”
Jensen stops and looks down at the younger man, frowning. Suddenly, his bed doesn’t seem all that appealing after all. “Okay,” he lets himself slink back down onto the steps, struggling to find the same somewhat comfortable position he’d managed to fit into before. “Sounds good to me.” He sighs, and tucks a hand behind his head.
They stay that way until the birds start chirping and the stars fall away from the sky.
To be continued.