Something of Forever- Chapter Three
<< Chapter Two
The first thing Chris wants to talk about when Jensen ends up on his porch late Wednesday night is the last thing Jensen wants to talk about.
“Jen, about Jared-” Chris starts, but Jensen cuts him off with a hard press of lips. His hands grasp at him, trying to find the false stability Chris has given him in the last few months. He latches on tight, pushing Chris back towards his bedroom.
Turns out, the first thing Jensen wants to do happens to be the second thing Chris wants to do.
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When Jensen tells him the following Thursday he’s headed back to Richardson, Chris shrugs and says, “Me too.”
“What?”
“I’m going with you.”
“Chris, I-”
“No, seriously. You’ve got this thing at Jared’s Sunday, but that’s not the entire weekend. I’ve got friends up there, too, you know. I’ll crash at Steve’s, hit the bars. It‘ll be fun.”
Jensen doesn’t bother to mention most of those friends are Jensen’s friends, because the last week has been a rocky one and the waters are still too choppy to test.
“I- okay,” Jensen agrees, despite the glaring fact that it is an epically stupid idea. Really, he’s just tired of fighting.
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Friday night finds Jensen standing awkwardly on the Padaleckis’ doorstep, muscles cramped and aching from the hours it took to drive here. Rapping lightly on the whitewashed door, he shuffles his feet awkwardly on the welcome mat as he waits. He doesn’t wait long; soon Jared’s mother opens the door and greets him with a surprised, but friendly, once-over.
“Jensen,” she greets, smiling through the question in her eyes.
“Hi,” Jensen offers shyly. “I’m sorry, I just-”
“No, no. You’re fine, hon,” she reassures. “Just a little surprised to see you, that’s all. Been a while.”
“Yeah it has,” Jensen murmurs quietly around the lack of accusation in her tone. “I just wanted…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at the stairs behind her. He’s done this countless times, shut himself away in Jared’s bedroom, just to feel close to him somehow. He knows he isn’t the first, knows Sherri has been tolerant and understanding of the steady stream of Jared’s friends that have came to do just the same throughout the months.
“Of course,” Sherri nods, stepping aside to allow him room to enter the house. He nods at her in appreciation and steps inside. The house smells the same as always, a combination of cinnamon, orange, and air freshener. Jensen glances around the foyer, seeing that little has changed in the six months since he last visited.
“Got a chair lift,” Jensen smiles, awkwardly pointing out the obvious addition to the sweeping stairwell. The track for the device snakes its way up, butting up against the steps, and the attached chair sits waiting at the top of the stairs.
“Yeah,” Sherri smiles warmly. “Cost a couple grand, but it was well worth the investment.”
“Definitely.”
“Figured I could probably use one in a couple years anyway,” she sighs, placing her palm flat on her back and bending forward slightly, like an elderly person might.
Jensen scoffs. “A couple decades, maybe.” Sherri laughs at that, gently slapping his arm playfully.
“Oh, you’re a doll,” she smiles, curving her hand around his upper arm briefly. “I‘m glad you’re in town, Jensen. We’re having a little Welcome Home celebration for Jared Sunday afternoon.”
“I know,” Jensen smiles kindly. “I’ll be there.”
“Great. Jared will be thrilled,” she smiles genuinely. “Well, sweetie, I’m going to get back to cleaning up. There are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry.”
“Thanks Mrs. P.,” Jensen smiles, waiting until she nods and walks away to trek his way up the stairs. He’s taken this trip a thousand times before, in any number of situations. He’s climbed these stairs as Jared’s best friend, as Jared’s boyfriend, as Jared’s grieving sort-of ex-boyfriend. He isn’t quite sure what to call his current state, other than awkward and nerve wracking, but the familiarity of this house helps to put him at ease, a bit. It’s still every bit of the safe house it has always been, just in different ways now.
Jared’s room is the first door on the left, propped open just a crack. Jensen’s hand closes slowly around the doorknob, unsure if he has forfeited the right to enter like he’s entitled to be there. Giving way to the curtain-drawn familiarity of Jared’s room, though, Jensen feels safe enough to sweep those concerns aside.
It looks the same as ever, those deep evergreen walls still falling background to the quiet chaos that has resided here throughout the years. Trophies still line the shelves; Jared’s high school diploma is still proudly displayed to the left of the curtains covering the wide double window. The only change Jensen can easily detect is the presence of a new wheeled gray metal walker near Jared’s nightstand.
"Jared?" he calls.
"Bathroom," the response comes. Be there in a minute."
Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, Jensen shuffles towards the ruffled navy comforter draped across Jared’s mattress. Kneeling near the foot of the bed, he fishes out the thick binder nestled beneath.
Touching the plastic and feeling the weight of its contents still claims a heavy toll on Jensen as he collapses back against the mattress, using it as a backrest as he sits on the soft floor.
Fingertips tracing mindlessly over the Sharpie-scrawled cover, Jensen swallows hard. He recognizes some of the handwriting- Chad’s, Sandy’s, Meg’s- but the rest has been done by people Jensen doesn’t know well enough anymore to recognize such intimate details. His eyes sweep over his own contribution, a simple but carefully scrawled I LOVE YOU, underlined in all caps near the upper side binding.
His heart quickens at the memory of the ferocity with which he felt those words, just a few short months ago. The recollection stirs deep within him, again triggering something that has never been completely dormant. It snarls at his throat and twists at his stomach. It hurts, but at least it’s something.
“Oh shit,” he breathes distantly, hugging the notebook to his chest.
He ignores the stumbling noise in the hallway, doesn’t open his eyes until he hears a quiet thud, too close to ignore. It hits Jensen like a hard left hook, coming out of nowhere and completely wiping out all his defenses. Everything inside him stops, coming to a complete halt.
Jared stands in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. Dressed in an oversized gray tee and ample navy flannel pants, his frame still stands frail, but with a growing air of strength. Jensen can see the beginnings of muscle tone emerging in his exposed arms, though just barely. It’s progress, improvement Jensen wasn’t expecting to see, let alone Jared’s lanky but upright presence in the doorway.
For a moment, all Jensen can do is stare. Jared is here and Jared is okay and Jared is still so breathtakingly beautiful. Déjà vu is a term that comes to mind, but Jensen knows he’s never been in this position before, naively thought he never thought he would be.
“Jared,” he grins. Jared smiles back, eyeing him tiredly. It's different, now, seeing him outside of the hospital and in his normal clothes. In his normal habitat, so to speak, if Jensen wants to sound really lame. Which he usually does.
“What…” he starts, unsure of how to finish. “What are you doing up by yourself?” he says, the sound of his voice decidedly surprised, but not condescending. It’s an odd thing to start off with, considering all that still stands between them, but Jared quirks the corner of his lip up.
"I don't need a walker," Jared crosses his arms over his chest, stubborn. Jensen opens up his mouth to protest, to spiel out every bit of knowledge he has about why he’s wrong, but Jared simply shakes his head. “Relax, Jen. I stay close to the walls. Just in case.”
“That’s… good.”
“Yeah.”
A numbed awkwardness sits between them, glaring in the silence, but Jensen can’t bring himself to care. Somewhere in the course of it all, he fumbles the binder to the floor and manages to shakily draw himself to his feet. He watches Jared watch him, and Jensen keeps an eye on him, if not slightly disbelieving, like he’s a mirage set to disappear any second.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jared says, grinning at him shyly and Jensen draws him into a hug. The touch itself is electric, shocking like the right wires have finally met to conduct a currant. Jensen feels it racing through his veins, through his bones, and he can’t help the giddy way his face responds.
“You thought I was really going to miss your homecoming?”
“Nah,” Jared shrugs. “Just didn’t think I’d find you staking out my room like a weirdo.” Jensen chokes out a laugh, drawing back from the hug. His right hand lingers at Jared’s back, steadying him as he moves to sit on his bed. Jensen hurries to throw the covers back so they can settle between them. Jared’s weight falls heavy on the surface, and Jensen perches himself on the side of the mattress.
“I was hardly staking.”
“Whatever, man. I saw you. You were totally were.”
Jensen sighs. “You caught me. Camping out in a tent and gazing lovingly at your pictures.”
“Reciting poetry. And rocking some ABBA.”
“ABBA?” Jensen raises an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah. What’s a creepy stalker without a little ABBA.”
“Nothing, obviously,” Jensen jokes naturally, heart swelling with affection as he carefully crawls over Jared to settle between him and the wall. Jared, flat on his back, sighs contentedly and closes his eyes.
Jensen watches him for a moment, panic swelling in his throat. “Hey Jare?”
“Hmm?”
“Could you maybe not lie on your back? Please?”
Furrowing his brows, it takes Jared a long moment before something akin to realization passes over his features. He barely tips his head in understanding before slowly making his way onto his stomach and settling back into the mattress.
“Better?” he asks, voice low in a way that sends a chill across Jensen’s body.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Jensen offers lamely, still stricken by the sudden progression of time, from there to here, from sitting on the floor to lying, waiting for Jared, to laying next to him in Jared’s bed. Not Jared’s hospital bed, but Jared’s actual bed, with the actual Jared instead of the small, helpless one he watched hopelessly for months.
“’Mere,” Jared slurs a bit, though Jensen can sense the sleep that is threatening to claim him. Jensen cautiously scoots towards him, close enough for Jared to eventually drape his left arm across his midsection and settle his head against his chest. Jensen’s body sparks with the contact, butterflies forming in his stomach and seeping into his veins.
“Glad you came tonight,” Jared says, settling contentedly into Jensen before glancing up at him.
“Me too,” Jensen murmurs, meaning it.
“Sleepy,” Jared yawns, muscles loosely relaxing. Jensen smiles slightly, another lump surfacing in his throat.
“Yeah,” he whispers, noting the exact moment sleep takes Jared. Something like panic threatens to take Jensen over, because sleep is too damn close to being comatose for Jensen’s comfort. But logically he knows the toll recovery takes on a person, how the smallest bit of stress can drain a person.
Jensen lies still, cataloguing every impossible, blur of a detail. It still seems like a dream, more intense and intimate than their visits in the hospital were. But Jared’s here, warm and real, and occasionally he moves against Jensen, proving he is asleep and nothing else. Somehow, between all the obsessing and internalized chaos, Jensen manages to drift off as well.
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He comes into consciousness slowly, piece by piece. Feeling comes first, with the soft brush of sun-warmed fabric and a comfortable bed. He can vaguely sense the smell he has always associated with Jared- clean sweat and Head & Shoulders, mixed with the light musk of his cologne and an indescribable note that is just Jared. The taste of morning follows. Finally, he opens his eyes to find himself in Jared’s room, in Jared’s bed.
“Morning sunshine,” he hears Jared drawl from the doorway. He stands comfortably, sleep-rumpled and most definitely not a figment of Jensen’s imagination.
“Hey,” Jensen greets roughly, butting the heel of his palm against his aching eye. “Time is it?”
“Past noon.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Jared smiles lightly. “You were out, man. Obviously needed it.” Jensen can’t argue with that, not when he has several months of insomnia and sleep-aides behind him.
“Yeah, apparently.”
“Got speech therapy around three,” Jared says, plopping down next to Jensen. “Still can’t read worth a shit.”
Jensen smiles sadly. “Jare, it takes time.”
Focusing his stare past Jensen, Jared writhers his hands nervously. “I’m sick of time.”
It’s like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the time that lies between them. Jensen isn’t the same person he was all those months ago, but looking at Jared, he thinks he might not be either. “Tell me about it,” he whispers weakly. Jared nods, flopping back into Jensen’s lap so that his head rests near his stomach. The contact is unexpected, but familiar, and Jensen finds himself raking his fingers through Jared’s hair without giving it much thought.
“Miss you,” Jared throws into the brief silence that ensues, causing Jensen’s eyes to snap to his. Peering up at him, Jared's eyes are liquid-genuine, with a slightly timid smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
“Miss me?” Jensen repeats, slightly incredulous.
“Yeah. Been gone.”
“Jared, it’s been a week,” Jensen smiles, palm stalling at Jared’s temple so his thumb lays a delicate contact. Jared gazes up at him shyly, and anxiety and excitement flash through Jensen’s veins. He still feels like he’s dreaming, but it’s hard to deny reality when it rests under your fingertips.
“Still missed you.” A comfortable silence takes hold, and Jared’s eyes slip shut through a yawn.
“For the record,” Jensen says, prompting Jared to look back up at him. “I missed you too.” It’s the understatement of the century, but the way Jared’s face brightens up makes him grin like it isn’t painfully obvious.
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Jensen forces himself to leave around three in the afternoon, when Jared’s nurse shows up. She looks at him like he’s intruding, and he can’t help but feel the same when she criticizes Jared for not using the correct number of pillows when he sits up, because he insisted Jensen have one. It’s little and it’s petty, but Jensen is emotionally drained, if not in a good way, and being alone with his thoughts seems strangely appealing.
Of course, nothing ever works out according to plan.
His phone rings as he’s pulling out of the parking space he created alongside the curb of Jared’s house. He sighs when he sees who is calling.
“Hello?”
“Heeyy,” the voice on the other side of the line drawls, a smile evident in their tone. “Long time no talk.”
“Hey Chris,” Jensen says, with a little less enthusiasm than he probably should. “S’going on?”
“Not a whole lot, man. Not a whole lot. What are you doing tonight?”
“Uh,” Jensen responds intelligently, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. “I don’t know.”
There’s a quiet pause on the other line, and Jensen can hear Chris moving about. “You with Jared?”
“No. Just came from there.”
“Sweet. Wanna come over? Steve’s got a case and some people over.”
“Sure.” And the thing is, Jensen really doesn’t, but the scent of Jared still lingers on his clothing and, really, he feels guilty. Less guilty than he feels after he’s been with Chris, though, and maybe that’s what he feels most guilty about of all.
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Jensen carefully picks out his outfit again on Sunday morning, changing after church with his family into a relaxed but fitting pair of jeans and a v-neck paired with a thin blue oxford shirt. Less nervous than last time, but nervous just the same, Jensen takes the long way to Jared’s house and pulls up casually like the old days. Cars litter either side of the arcing road, but Jensen whips a quick parallel and slides it into park.
Making his way around back, Jensen fusses with the way his shirt falls and runs his fingers through his hair. Sun greets him brighter than ever in the backyard, were numerous lawn chairs are lined up with various guests dotting the ground in and around them. Jensen recognizes Chad right away, and preps a wide grin by the time he notice him.
“Jensen,” Chad smiles warmly, greeting him with a hearty half-hug. Though they used to dislike each other, they grew closer in the weeks and months following the accident. In fact, up until he moved to Tech, Jensen had counted Chad among his closest friends.
“You look good,” Jensen says, and means it. Chad was a wreck following the accident, with too much alcohol and too little sleep. He seems to have remedied that since then, skin a healthy tan and eyes wide and clear.
“Thanks, man, you too.”
“How’ve you been?” Jensen asks, genuinely interested.
“Alright, man, alright,” Chad smiles with a single shrugged shoulder. “Thought I’d see you around the hospital.”
Setting a sad half-smile, Jensen nods. “Yeah. Wish I could have been, you know.”
“Yeah,” Chad nods, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced.
“Jared,” Jensen smiles, catching a glimpse of the boy over Chad’s shoulder as he sits, situated in a padded chair. Face lighting up, Jared flashes Jensen a smile, one that does funny things to his heart, and Jensen’s really starting to wonder if all these reactions Jared is causing in him are actually healthy.
“How’s it going?” he asks, stepping around Chad without a second thought as he moves to stand near Jared, still fascinated by his presence.
“Good.”
“Your boy’s been quite the hostess today,” Chad smiles teasingly.
“Always was the socialite,” Jensen quips automatically, to Chad’s laugh and the rolling of Jared’s eyes.
“True, very true,” Chad nods. “Still doing okay, Jared?”
“Yeah,” Jared answers, grinning shyly at Jensen. “Definitely.”
“Alright,” Chad brings his hands together awkwardly. “I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.” Jensen forces a smile to match Jared’s real one as Chad inches away.
“Hey,” Jared slaps at Jensen’s leg. “Sit.” Jensen does as he’s told, settling into a lawn chair across from Jared.
“This is nice,” Jensen comments, looking around awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Jared nods, face stretched around a smile. “It’s weird. But nice.”
“How’s it weird?”
“Don’t know,” Jared shrugs. “Everyone’s older.”
“Yeah, we’re all old and fat,” Jensen jokes, patting his palms against his imaginary beer gut. A laugh breaks through the air, damn near magical, and Jensen can only stare and watch Jared in wonder, at the warmth that he feels from the sound. It’s a type of contagious he’s no longer used to, and it pries the corners of his lips up instantly.
“Pretty much,” Jared grins playfully, and Jensen practically melts. A new song comes over the radio in the background, and Chad boos.
“Play some Lady Gaga!” he shouts, overly effeminate.
Jensen snorts and Jared asks, “Who?”
“Lady Gaga,” Jensen repeats automatically, to Jared’s blank stare. “Oh. Right. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.” And he probably will, judging by the stash of Britney CD’s Jared denies having under his bed. For his part, Jared shrugs, apparently satisfied with the answer.
“Jenny!” The screech is so loud, so impossibly familiar, that Jensen doesn’t know why he doesn’t see it coming. There are fast footsteps, and the distant rustle of a protest, but it’s a split second between actually seeing Chris and having a messy jumble of him in his lap. Shock steals seconds away that are meant for a reaction, but when Jensen finally finds himself able to move, it’s under the near-painful press of Chris’s lips on his.
On instinct, he shoves his boyfriend away. As Chris starts to tumble backwards, however, he reaches out to grab him, only to nearly get pulled to the ground himself.
“Jensen I’m sorry,” Steve says from beside him, reeking of pot but not booze. Of course Steve is here. It only makes absolutely no fucking sense, just like the pile of Chris on the Padaleckis’ deck, reeking of alcohol. Sneaking a glance upwards, Jensen finds Jared’s face torn in shock, with wide eyes and rampant curiosity.
“I missed you!” Chris exclaims, grabbing upwards to try to pull Jensen back down into a kiss. Jensen slaps at his hands, shouting to be heard.
“Chris. Chris! Stop it!” he screams, sure that by now every set of eyes is on him, in the backdrop of the now-silent party. “What the fuck are you even doing here?”
“He’s drunk,” Steve shrugs, pointing out the obvious. “And he said he was going to find you, whether I drove him or he did. So I did.”
“It’s fuckin’ one in the afternoon,” Jensen grumbles, unable to deal with the scope of the situation past the fact that Chris probably started drinking around ten AM and who fucking does that, anyway?
“Jensen!” Chris laughs, absolutely plastered, trying to pull himself up by Jensen’s lax left arm. Irritated, Jensen grabs onto his arms and helps to pull him up and steady him as he stumbles to stand.
“You’re Jared, right?” Chris slurs, pointing to where Jared sits.
“Chris, fucking sto-”
“M’Chris. Jensen’s boyfriend,” he sneers, Jensen’s eyes screwing shut at the damn look on Jared’s face.
“Really,” Jared murmurs, lacking any volume or power.
“Yeah,” Chris replies, reaching backwards to grab at Jensen blindly. Horrified and humiliated, Jensen repeatedly slaps away his hands.
“Stop. Chris fucking stop it!” he shouts, anger evident in the heavy way those words fall. Steve grabs at Chris’s arm, gently but forcefully pulling him towards him. Chris smiles at him as he is pulled backwards, and Jensen has never wanted to punch someone in the face so hard in his life.
“Get him out of here, Steve. Seriously,” he growls, earning a nod and surprising compliance from Chris as he drags him back towards the gate.
“Man, I love you,” he hears Chris exclaim to Steve, arms looped awkwardly around him. “No, dude, seriously. You’re awesome.” Jensen rolls his eyes, digging the heel of his hand into his eye until it hurts.
Terrific.
The silence is painfully heavy and dense as Jensen turns back toward Jared, finding his face cold and closed down.
“Jared, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, tears flooding the sound from his throat. Jared simply shrugs, but won’t meet his eyes. “Jared-”
“You can go, Jensen,” Jared mumbles. “Go be with your boyfriend.” A thousand pieces of Jensen’s heart shatter onto the cement right then, and he’s unsure if he will ever be able to find all the pieces.
“Jared-”
“Jen, I think maybe you should go,” Chad says quietly, not accusing but not entirely sympathetic. Stunned, Jensen nods, glancing numbly at Jared before shuffling towards the gate in a daze.
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The first thing Steve says when he sees his friend come shuffling from the yard is, “Dude, I’m sorry.”
Jensen stares at him, clearly still in shock as he shuffles past him to sit in Steve’s car. Dumped in the backseat, Chris is passed out and sprawled awkwardly across the narrow seat. Jensen couldn’t care less.
“Jensen,” Steve starts cautiously as he slides into the driver’s seat.
“Just take me home, Steve,” Jensen whispers tiredly. “Just fucking take me home.”
Steve swallows a protest as he nods and throws the car into reverse.
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Home ends up being his parents’ house six blocks away, because Chad calls Jensen’s mother in epic time and she’s waiting to collect him in her arms as Steve pulls up. In the background, Steve apologizes profusely before pulling out of the Ackles’ driveway, though Jensen is too busy falling apart to notice.
Somehow, his mother sweeps him in the house with the repetition of it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay. Jensen has never been one to argue with the saying mother knows best, but he thinks if his mom has ever been wrong, it’s about this.
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Chris calls around five and Jensen is too angry not to pick up.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Chris says, and Jensen can just hear the hangover in his voice.
“Good.”
“Jen, I’m like, epically hung over right now, but. I know I acted like an idiot.”
“Yeah.”
“Jen-”
“Really, Chris?” Jensen spits. “I mean, really? I hadn’t even been at the party five minutes and you had to crash the fucking thing?”
“Dude, I-”
“No. I don’t- there are no excuses for this, Chris. This is not excusable.”
“I know.”
“I- it was his welcome home party.”
“I know, Jensen, and I’m sorry.”
“Okay, well, sorry? Doesn’t cut it.”
“Dude, he was going to find out eventually.”
“Eventually didn’t have to be today,” Jensen murmurs, pulling at the skin around his eye. “Fuck, Chris.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just. You’re my boyfriend, Jen, and I-”
“I’m his boyfriend, too, Chris,” Jensen snaps, and the recoil from what he says is like a stab to the heart. Shit.
“So, what? This is it? You bounce back and forth between us and I’m just supposed to be cool with that?”
“No, I. I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” Chris growls. “I’ve been patient, Jensen, I have. But I’ve been sitting here and all I feel is you slipping away, and I just gotta know. Do I have something to be worried about?”
Yes. “I… don’t know.”
“Jensen. Split-second, if you had to choose.”
“Chris-”
“Seriously.”
There’s a silence that Jensen isn’t even aware of creating; it’s like everything is moving in slow motion and slipping from his grip. “I’d… Chris I would choose Jared.”
The dial tone that follows really isn’t any more surprising than his confession.
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Chapter Four