Things That Never Age - J2 (R), 3/3
Master Post | Previous
Part Three
"Hey," Jared says when he opens the door to his parents' house. "I see you survived your hangover."
"No thanks to you. Do you have some kind of radar that tells you to call me right when I'm puking my guts out?" Jensen gripes as he steps inside.
"Yes, Jensen, I call it Puke-dar, and I love how it was my birthday but you ended up being the one who got to spend all yesterday hugging the toilet." Jared shuts the door and ushers Jensen into the living room, which is looking far more orderly than the last time he was in it.
"I blame you, you bastard. I'm not drinking anything you give me ever again," Jensen says.
"No beer for you tonight, then?"
"I can get it myself. You realize I do know where your refrigerator is?"
"Yeah, yeah. Just sit your ass down. I'll get you a drink, and I promise no hangovers tomorrow."
Jensen does as he's told while Jared disappears into the kitchen. This is the first time they've spent time alone together since things got… weird the night they had dinner with Jared's parents. Jensen had gone into evasion mode during the week that followed, at least until Jared's birthday, when they went out with Mike safely in tow to remind Jensen to keep his feelings in check. But now it's two nights later, they're hanging out again, and the only thing stopping him from running in terror is the idea that it would disappoint Jared, something Jensen still deeply wants to avoid. So Jensen is back in Jared's living room, a desperate beat of distance, distance, distance in his head.
Jared comes back, two beers in hand, one of which he gives to Jensen before crossing the room to fiddle with the DVD player. When he's finished and seated, Jensen asks, "So where're your mom and dad?"
"Um… in San Antonio visiting some friends of theirs." He looks sheepish. "I know they're worried about me with the divorce and everything, but I kind of hit my limit for being babied…"
"So you suggested they go somewhere?"
"More like called up their friends, bought them all tickets to a show down there, and practically begged them to clear out for a day or so. Yes, I am pathetic."
Jensen lifts his hands and shakes his head. "Hey, I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Yeah, you were. Just shut up and let's watch the damned movie." Jared grabs the remote, turns the TV on, and settles in for the film.
Much later, after two movies, three rounds of Halo, and several beers, at an hour when most sane people have gone to bed, Jensen's relaxed somewhat. Jared stuck to his end of the couch, their conversation stayed securely in friendship territory the entire time, and Jensen firmly kept his mind off of any consideration of inappropriate contact. And if he was less than successful at any point during the evening, Jensen's pretty sure Jared hasn't noticed any looks of confused almost-want he may have let slip.
"Okay," Jared says, setting his Xbox controller down, "I can't do this anymore. To keep on beating you this badly is like kicking a disabled puppy. It's cruel, that's what it is. We need to find something else to do so I don't feel like I'm damaging your fragile self esteem."
"I am not fragile, you ass. But yeah, you winning is getting old. You got any bright ideas?"
"Bar?"
"No way in hell," Jensen says. "I'm not letting you try to give me alcohol poisoning again. Think of something else."
Jared's quiet for a moment, staring at a spot on the floor as he considers. Finally, he looks back at Jensen with a roguish smile, the kind of expression that always meant he was ready to get them both in trouble. "I've got an idea." He stands, and offers his hand out to help Jensen off the couch. "C'mon."
Jensen looks doubtfully at Jared's outstretched hand. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"Probably not, but you're coming anyway."
"Fine." Jensen swats Jared away - the last thing he needs right now is to hold hands - and gets up, his already healthy level of apprehension continuing to rise as Jared heads into the kitchen and opens the back door. Jensen reluctantly goes after him, following out into the yard.
It's a clear night, and although the hellish heat of the day has faded somewhat, it's still shockingly warm when coming from the cool house. The sky is deeply dark at this hour, only the light filtering out through the kitchen windows allowing Jensen to see Jared as he grabs an end of the picnic table sitting in the middle of the lawn and begins to drag it to one side. "Help me with this thing, will ya?" Jared says.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"You'll see. Just get your ass over here and help." Jensen crosses the yard and lifts the other end of the table, and together they carry it over to the tall wooden fence that separates Jared's parents' property from their neighbors'. Jared signals for him to set the table down right next to the fence. "There," Jared says like they've accomplished something. "Let's go."
Jensen's almost not surprised when Jared climbs up on the tabletop and hops over the fence with a laugh. It's the kind of mischief Jared's always been prone to with his wild sense of humor. Aside from dredging up all these old feelings, the last few weeks have been a very thorough reminder of precisely how much trouble Jared can be with his schemes and his gleeful randomness. Jensen steps on the bench seat, then up to the table, and leans over the fence to look at Jared.
"Seriously, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Going for a swim." He gestures to the large in-ground pool behind him.
"You're going to get caught," Jensen hisses.
"No one's home. They're in Europe for like, the entire summer. It's fine, man. Get over here before I pull you down."
It's an old habit to follow Jared without a thought, one as familiar as breathing, and before he knows it, Jensen finds himself looking around, irrationally worried that a neighbor or a police car - or worst, one of his students - could suddenly appear and have him arrested for trespassing. But when he jumps the fence, none of his paranoid fears come to pass, and he even manages to land steadily on his feet and avoid the embarrassment of a fall. Jared practically beams at him with a wide, joyful smile and excited eyes, claps him on the shoulder, and walks closer to the pool.
"You even suggest skinny dipping and I will end you," Jensen says.
"Aw, c'mon, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Strangled to death by my sense of self preservation a long time ago."
"Oh, all right. Underwear it is, then." Jared pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the concrete, and for the first time, Jensen can see exactly how much muscle Jared's put on during their years apart. Jensen can't bring himself to look away. Jared is… he doesn't have words for what Jared is, at least not ones he'll allow himself to acknowledge, and he's still staring when Jared kicks off his shoes and drops his pants to reveal long legs and loose black boxers. "You going in fully clothed or what?" Jared asks when he looks back up.
Jensen shakes his head, trying to clear it, and answers, "Ha! No, I'd like to stay dry, thanks."
"C'mon, Jensen, live a little."
"No."
"Please?"
"No, and if you try to make me, I will kick your fucking ass."
"You were so not this uptight when we were kids, but suit yourself." Jared shrugs, and then, with a yell, launches himself into the water in some kind of flailing cannonball-type move. Water splashes everywhere, though Jensen's lucky to be far enough away that he doesn't get wet. Jared comes up laughing, like it's hilarious that he might have just woken up the entire neighborhood, and starts doing laps across the pool, body cutting through the water with a grace he seems unable to achieve on dry land. Jensen can't help but step closer, all the way to the edge of the pool, wanting a clearer view of Jared's broad back as he moves so easily in the water.
Something's happening in Jensen's head, like all his carefully drawn lines are blurring, something that started the other night, or maybe earlier; maybe everything since Jared came back into his life has been leading up to this feeling. Maybe it's as old as their first spark of friendship, something that never stopped, even after their split and those years of distance. All Jensen knows is that he can't look away. He doesn't even want to, really.
His perilous train of thought is somewhat interrupted when Jared swims up to the edge where Jensen stands, still with a grin, water droplets trailing down his face. He's got that look again, the one that means mischief, and before Jensen can move away, Jared sends a giant splash straight in Jensen's direction, enough to get him drenched pretty much from head to toe.
"Oh, you fucking asshole," Jensen sputters as water drips down his body and his clothes begin to cling.
Jared laughs, loud and pleased with himself, as Jensen grabs the bottom of his shirt and tries to wring it out. "You're already wet; now you don't have a reason not to swim."
"I hate you. How's that for a reason?"
"It's a bad reason because you're a giant liar. You think I'm awesome." Jared comes closer, leaning his arms on the rim of the pool. "C'mon, don't you ever get the urge to do something spontaneous?"
And the thing is, Jensen doesn't, normally. For years, he's had a comfortable life laid out in front of him, not necessarily the happiest life, but one that's easy to stick with. He knows a thousand points in the last decade where it could've gone another way, when he could've tried something instead of continuing as he was, only to choose the ordinary life every time.
But then there's Jared, Jared who's lively and random and here, reawakening this huge, indescribable thing in Jensen. It's the same thing responsible for big aspirations, responsible for his first falling in love with a gangly, goofy boy. Jared's always made him want to do something… different.
Jensen has an idea, a silly, childish idea, which is just the kind of thing Jared will love, and in an instant, he decides to go for it. "You want me to do something spontaneous?" Jensen asks, one corner of his mouth turning up in sly little smile. "How's this?" He grabs Jared's shirt and jeans from the ground and takes off running.
He heads for the side yard, where the fence meets the house, and he can hear the slosh of water, probably Jared hauling himself out of the pool to chase after. The fence has a gate, like Jensen was hoping it would, and he flips the simple lock, swings the gate open, and makes for Jared's house, still at a run. Jared is behind him, and the sounds of footfalls and quick breaths get closer each moment. Around the fence, and into the Padaleckis' backyard, and nearly in the house when a hand closes around his upper arm, stopping him just shy of the kitchen door.
Jensen turns, and there is Jared, grinning widely and dripping pool water onto the grass. "Gotcha," he says, chuckling softly. "That was more like it. There may be hope for you yet."
"Glad you approve." He tosses Jared's clothes back to him and rolls his eyes, but yeah, he is glad, because anything that gets Jared looking this happy is more than worth it. "Now what's a guy gotta do to get a towel 'round here?"
Jared snorts, and then opens the door, holding it for Jensen. "Get your ass inside. There should be some over the washing machine."
Jensen goes into the house, Jared following him, and they walk over to the small laundry area near the kitchen together, where he grabs two towels off a shelf and hands one to Jared. Not thinking about where he is or who he's with, Jensen tugs his shirt over his head and sets it on the washer before starting to dry off. He's running the towel over his chest when he looks back up at Jared.
Jared is not moving; he's simply standing there, loosely holding his towel in front of him, staring at Jensen. Jared is staring at Jensen, want plainly there in his expression, and it's so much like another day, another time when they were alone in this house, when Jared first looked at him like this, less confident then, but with this same desire. It's so much like that moment over ten years ago that Jensen is sure, he knows what is about to happen. It's exactly what he didn't know he'd been waiting for.
Jared takes a step forward, resting a hand on Jensen's bare shoulder before he leans in and fits their mouths together. It's not the tentative kiss of their early teenage fumblings, or the comfortable affection they had later; Jared kisses sure and strong in a way he never used to, like he's using it to say something, like sending a message. And screw doubt and distance, Jensen goes with it, parting his lips in response to let Jared deepen the kiss with a swipe of tongue. He tightens his hand around Jensen's arm and sets his other hand spread wide on Jensen's lower back, drawing them closer together, while Jensen brings both hands up to tangle his fingers in Jared's wet hair. They are flush against each other, hips to chests to mouths, and Jensen is struck by Jared's size, by how effortlessly Jared could manhandle him now. This is Jared grown up, taking what he wants. This is Jensen, giving it.
The first kiss ends with Jared's teeth lightly catching Jensen's bottom lip as he pulls back, but Jensen doesn't let him go far. Jensen pulls him down for the second kiss, wetter and less coordinated, more desperate, with fingers grasping tighter this time. There is no noise but their mingled breathing, the sounds of their mouths meeting, Jensen's heart pounding in his chest. A second kiss, and a third, and Jensen loses count around the time he notices that Jared's cock is hard. He thrusts own erection against Jared, wanting desperately to get rid of the rest of their clothes, but reluctant to have his hands anywhere but right on skin.
At some point, Jared starts them moving out of the kitchen. He ushers Jensen through the hall and over to the stairs, all while still touching, still kissing, bodies connecting, never letting Jensen have even a minute of clarity for second thoughts. Even going up the staircase, he holds Jensen to him, sucks a mark on Jensen's shoulder like he still has an acknowledged claim, making Jensen arch and hiss with pleasure. They're still fiercely tangled together when they get to the second floor, and Jared drags Jensen along by his belt loops through the door of what used to be Jared's bedroom.
The room is dark and undoubtedly changed from what Jensen remembers, but Jared seems able to navigate just fine as he pulls Jensen over by the bed. Then Jared's touch is gone, and Jensen grabs for Jared's hands; he wants to feel, not to overanalyze, and he needs Jared touching him to do that, but Jared swats him out of the way with a chuckle.
"Need to get your pants off," he says, the first either of them have spoken since this started. Jensen moans a little and nods in agreement. "Excited, much?" Jared asks and laughs again, low and smooth against Jensen's neck, as his hands go for the zipper of Jensen's jeans.
He makes quick work of Jensen's fly, and then carefully peels the wet denim down Jensen's legs, boxers coming off with the pants so that Jensen is finally naked. Jared drops his own underwear quickly, and has Jensen down on the bed just as fast. Jensen lands on his back, Jared above him, and they meet in another crash of a kiss, hard and frantic. Their bodies slide together, skin still slick with pool water, their dicks rubbing side by side in a desperate friction that has Jensen gasping into Jared's mouth.
Jensen can't think, not about how he promised himself he wouldn't do this, not about how much of a bad idea it really is. But he can remember exactly how good sex with Jared can be, how Jared clutched at him when they fucked, the hot swirl of Jared's tongue along his dick, the low keening sounds Jared would make when he came. If they're giving in to this, then Jensen wants all of that again.
Jared must be thinking along similar lines, because he says, voice rough and breaking, "Do you remember the first time we did this, Jensen?" His hand moves down, trailing across Jensen's stomach before he wraps it firmly around Jensen's cock and starts stroking. "Remember right here, where I jerked you off the first time. God, first time you'd really been touched like that. Right here in this room. In my bed. Still so fucking hot."
"And you still don't shut up," Jensen snaps back, his voice just as rough as Jared's.
It feels so much the same, and so different. He jacks Jensen the way he long ago learned Jensen likes it, tight and slow, thumb moving across Jensen's slit, spreading precome over the head. But Jared's hand is larger, and more sure, a strength there that's new and intriguing. Jared's still speaking, a wild mix of lust and affection, as he thrusts against Jensen's hip, keeps on working Jensen's dick as Jensen fucks into his fist. Each move shows that Jared remembers how to touch and where to kiss to get him writhing and biting out, "Fuck, Jared," and, "God, yes."
The rush of Jensen's orgasm hits him suddenly, way sooner than he wanted, with that too-good shock of pleasure coursing through him. He grabs hold of Jared's arms, probably hard enough to bruise, and comes long spurts all over his stomach and Jared's hand, chanting Jared's name all through it. Jared thrusts again, and again, and follows moments after, letting out a deep groan as his come splashes over Jensen's hip.
They come down face to face, close enough to mingle heavy breaths between them, and there's a something that looks like awe in Jared's eyes as he traces patterns with his fingers through the mess on Jensen's skin. Jensen gazes back and wonders if he's wearing that same look of amazement.
With the rush of need, want, now done, Jensen knows he should take a step back, and there are things they need to seriously think about, but Jared still looks hungry, and with a glint in his wide eyes, his hand starts to move back lower. He pants into Jensen's mouth, "Again."
Another kiss, quick and dirty, and Jensen mumbles against Jared's lips, "Yeah, yeah. Again."
* * * * *
Wakefulness comes abruptly; in one moment, Jensen is sleeping, and in the next he is alert and painfully aware of exactly what happened the night before. There's no arm slung around his middle, no warm body next to him. He is blessedly alone. Jensen raises his head from where it's buried in the pillow and, squinting at the sunlight filtering through the window blinds, checks for a clock on the nightstand. There is one, red-lit numbers telling him that it's already past noon, and he flops back on the bed with a grunt. Jensen feels exhaustion in every shift of his muscles, and the low throb of a headache starts behind his eyes. The only thing looking up is that Jared isn't present for what promises to be a particularly spectacular freak out, because no amount of denial or insistence that they're just friends is going to change what's going on.
Jensen is in love with Jared again, or maybe he never stopped.
Either way, somewhere between Jared's offer of friendship and the pool last night, Jensen's feelings have turned around and twisted themselves up into something nearly unrecognizable. All Jared's freely offered smiles, his silly text messages, his impromptu trips to every tourist hotspot in the area have worn down Jensen's defenses to the point where he'd all but forgotten he was supposed to maintain a healthy detachment. He let Jared drag him out all the time - like they were fucking dating - and let Jared be intelligent and funny and charming, like everything he first fell for and still longed to have. Jensen has learned to want this now, contrary to all his self-promises not to wish for what he can't have. It's ridiculous, and hopeless, and precisely why Jensen should never have spoken with Jared after the reunion.
Jared is leaving for L.A. on Sunday, only five days away. Like high school, they're doomed before they've begun, with a predetermined separation looming in the not-distant-enough future, one Jensen knows better than to think they'll survive. Then there are their respective jobs, and Jared's public image, and whatever hurt remains from their breakup. And that's not even getting into Jared's divorce, and how Jensen isn't even sure that the previous night wasn't more than a rebound hookup. All of this added together, and it seems as if Jensen's stupid heart is gunning to get itself broken.
But staying here isn't solving any of Jensen's issues, he definitely needs to get cleaned up, and Jared will come searching for him eventually, which will be even more awkward if he's still naked. He hauls himself out of bed to look for his jeans and finds them folded neatly on a dresser. His shirt and boxers are there too, and they smell like fresh fabric softener instead of chlorine; Jared must've washed them. Jensen takes his clothes and goes for the door, opening it a crack to check that the coast is clear before darting across the hall to the guest bathroom.
When he closes the door behind him and looks at himself in the mirror over the sink, he's surprised to see that he doesn't look like hell, just one minor hickey and the mess of dried come on his stomach. All evidence of what they did is either easy to clean or easy to cover. He finds a washcloth, wets it, and wipes himself down a little, just enough so that he doesn't feel completely disgusting when he throws last night's clothes back on. Cleaner and clothed, he should feel slightly better, but instead he's forced to realize that he can't put off the Jared issue any longer. Jensen steels himself, opens the bathroom door, and heads downstairs.
Jared is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the cup of coffee in front of him with an unusual intensity, when Jensen walks in. Jared looks up, nerves clear in the tense set of his mouth - the mouth Jensen kissed - as he says, "Hey. Good morning."
"Morning," Jensen replies.
"You want coffee?"
"Sure. I can get it myself," he offers before Jared can get up. "Mugs still over the microwave?"
"Yeah."
Jensen fixes his coffee, glad for something to do with his hands, and when he has a cup, he sits across the table from Jared. They watch each other silently for a minute, until he says, "So."
It's a start. Not a good one, but a start.
Jared seems to consider his options, his expression flickering wildly like he's reacting to possibilities listed off in his head. "Can we…" he finally starts. "I mean…" He drains the rest of his coffee, sets the mug down and says, "Fuck it. Let's do something this afternoon."
That's not the 'figuring things out' Jensen expected, and needs. "What?"
"Let's go mini-golfing, or see a movie. Have dinner. I dunno, drive around."
"Jared-"
"Can't we just let it be good for a little while? Please?" There's a fraught look in Jared's eyes, a hope that Jensen will agree. It's not the teasing sort of begging that makes up a good portion of their friendship; there's no joking note to it, nothing less than true sincerity. Jared, he realizes, is pleading.
There's not much about their situation that's clear. Jensen still isn't sure where Jared stands, and his own emotions are a swirl of confusion and conflict. They have too many things still to talk about, and the only sensible thing to do is say no. But damn it, the one thing he knows is that he wants to be happy, really content like he hasn't been in years. And with this flood of pleasant memories there in the forefront of his mind, and the prospect of this complicated, heart-rending, wonderful new thing rising between them, Jensen wants to take that happiness, even for just an instant.
"Okay," he says. "I need to go home and get presentable first."
And there it is, delight washing over Jared's face, filling Jensen's chest with an indescribable pressure. Jared says, "I can pick you up later. Three sound good?"
"That's perfect."
* * * * *
Jared's only fifteen minutes late, which is a kind of miracle, considering how much of his life Jensen's spent waiting around for Jared. Jensen spends those entire few minutes alternating between worry that he won't come and thinking about phoning him to call it off. But Jared turns up, his soft grin and easy chatter putting Jensen's nerves somewhat at ease.
They end up stopping at a diner first. During the meal, neither of them mentions the turn their relationship is taking, but there's a palpable tension now in the way Jensen watches Jared's hands, recalling how they'd moved on his skin. He sees it in the way Jared looks anywhere but straight at his mouth. And even if Jensen were oblivious to this renewed sexual charge, he can't help but notice the little changes in Jared's behavior. Jared stretches out his legs even more than usual, keeps them a mere inch from Jensen through the whole meal. He doesn't let up on the teasing insults that normally make up a good portion of their conversation, but there's a new note to his laugh, something deep and intimate. It isn't until they've finished eating and Jared plunks down his credit card, one eyebrow raised as if to dare Jensen to comment, that he knows for sure what is different. While all their previous time spent together was supposedly nothing more than a bunch of friendly outings, tonight is undeniably a date.
Jensen's still trying to process this realization when they hit the movie theater, which is why he doesn't stop Jared from getting tickets for Saw 27 or Chucky vs. Jason or some equally bad slasher flick. "Why the hell are you making me watch this crap?" he asks as they take seats.
"A buddy of mine did the lighting and I promised him I'd see it." Jared tears open one of the several packages of candy he bought at the concession stand, drops a few M&M's into his palm and offers the rest to Jensen. "Besides, if it's really bad, we're sitting in the back of a dark theater…"
The implication is blatant, and Jensen hadn't anticipated anything like it; despite the tone at the restaurant earlier, this is the first Jared's clearly hinted that he intends to pick up where they left off the night before. Jensen can't answer that, not now, so he instead takes the pack of candy and pops some in his mouth to avoid speaking.
The lights dim, the previews roll, and the movie starts, opening on the predictable scarcely clothed coed who is most likely the first to get killed quick and bloody. Jensen's body feels as taught as a pulled string, and it's not from any fear caused by the action onscreen. Eventually Jared will tire of the film - he always had a short attention span when Jensen was around - and go for his implied backup plan of making out, an idea that's got Jensen feeling pretty damned unsure. It's nice, being with Jared, knowing Jared wants him, but at the same time there's the ever-present understanding that they'll have to talk at some point.
Jared doesn't take his attention off the screen though, because by about twenty minutes in, he starts taking the movie's crappiness as some kind of personal offense. It starts with a few whispered comments about what camera angles could've worked better. Then it's something about settling for the actors doing poor work on green screen. Forty-five minutes into the film, Jared's complaining at a high enough volume that the couple of dozen other people in the theater are shooting him some very dirty looks.
Jensen grabs Jared's arm and says, "You knew it was gonna be bad. Now shut up and deal."
But keeping quiet has never been Jared's strength, and a few minutes of ranting later, there's a bored teenage employee unceremoniously telling them to get out, which is how they end up in the parking lot, Jensen stalking towards the car with Jared not far behind. "I can't believe you got us thrown out of the movies," Jensen says.
"I can't believe that that shit actually got released."
"Thrown out of the theater, Jared. Christ, I hope none of people in there have a teenager or every parent in town will never let me hear the end of it."
"Minute I get home I'm looking up who directed that so I can tell him he should be shot for committing that piece of crap to film…" Jared continues his tirade, getting into all sorts of technical-sounding directing stuff that goes straight over Jensen's head, practically flailing his arms around the entire time. It's almost, well, Jensen wouldn't say adorable, but it's certainly something to see, Jared's little indignant expression, hair falling into his face, and the way he gestures wildly. Jensen bursts out laughing.
Jared trails off, looking at Jensen with a sort of amused confusion, before he starts chuckling too. "I look like a moron, don't I?" he asks.
"That ain't much different from normal, but yeah, you do."
"Fuck you, I look awesome. I hate you almost as much as I hate that fucking movie."
"Of course you do. I'll keep letting you believe that." Before he can think better of it, he lets out, "You wanna head back to my place awhile?"
Jared's expression goes hot, his eyes darkening with want and one corner of his mouth turning up in a smug sort of half-smile. That's not what Jensen intended with his invitation, but now that the suggestion is out there, a heat spreads through him, and it feels like his entire body is saying yes, now, please. "Sure," Jared answers, voice low and smooth, "That sounds great." Jensen shivers at his tone.
"Let's get going then," Jensen says, hoping that he doesn't sound too eager.
They climb into Jared's rental and in a few moments, they're on their way to the condo. Neither of them speaks on the way over, and the softly playing beat of some old rock song on the radio is the only sound in the car. The ride doesn't take long, and before Jensen can sort out what he wants from tonight, Jared pulls in front of the garage and puts the car in park. They get out, still silent, and walk the short distance to Jensen's front step. Jensen fumbles his keys at the door when he realizes just how close behind him Jared stands; he's near enough that Jensen would only have to lean back a little to put them in contact. It's a heady feeling, one of the many things about them together that makes Jensen want to grab on and hold tight despite all his confusion. Though it takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time, he manages to get the key in the lock and open the door.
They're barely inside a moment when Jared's on him, those huge hands coming up to slowly cup his face, holding him in place as Jared leans in for a kiss. It's not like the previous night, which was fire and desperation and the culmination of what had been building between them. There is no hard edge to this kiss. It is soft and melting, the gentle curl of Jared's tongue into his mouth, the brush of Jared's thumb along his jaw. It's slow and easy like they've got time stretched out before them. It is a hope that there is more to come.
When they finally part with wet mouths and harsh breaths, Jared's hands are still on him, warm and enticing, and Jensen is sorely tempted to go for another kiss. Instead he clears his throat and says, "Want a drink?"
"I could take a beer if you've got some."
"I think I've still got a couple. Just a sec." Jensen goes into the kitchen, decidedly not mourning the loss of Jared's touch, and grabs the last two bottles of beer from the refrigerator door. Beers opened, he walks back into the living room where Jared has made himself comfortable on the couch, with his legs splayed wide and one arm resting along the back. Jensen sits too and holds out one of the beers.
Jared accepts the offered bottle and takes a drink. He holds the drink in his lap and looks seriously at Jensen, a face Jensen can't read, but that makes him flush under the scrutiny anyway. "I didn't plan this," Jared blurts after a moment. "I didn't start talking to you hoping this would happen. When I said friends, that's what I meant."
"I believe you."
Jared starts a few times, clipped syllables that don't continue, like he doesn't know how to say what he's thinking. He finally spits out, "Come to L.A. with me."
"What?" Jensen couldn't have heard that right.
"I'm going back to California in a coupla days, and I'd like it if maybe you'd come with me." Jared sets his beer down on the coffee table and scoots closer. "You might not exactly be miserable, but you're not gonna be dancing in the streets anytime soon. We've got something here. Always have. I think we could be something." He smiles, that same hope-nerves combo that reeled Jensen in all those weeks ago, and continues, "Hey, maybe it'd be easier to go after everything you used to want; y'know, Texas might not appreciate gays in politics, but California…"
"Yeah, I'll come away with you and then we'll live happily ever after," Jensen scoffs.
"I'm being serious."
"You're actually asking me to go with you? Really?" Jensen sets his drink down, stands, and gives Jared a hard look. He can't believe the sincerity he sees there and starts to pace the room. "You really are doing this. Jared, I can't."
"Why not?"
He throws up his hands. "Where the hell do I start? I've got a job, Jared, and this place, and my family a couple of hours away. I can't just take off."
"Your parents have Josh sticking around so it's not like you're leaving them alone. And you don't even like your job."
"This isn't about whether or not I like my job."
"It kinda is. You're not happy here, Jensen."
"So you think moving to California will magically fix all my problems? It doesn't work that way. 'Cause what'll you do about the press if you haul me out there and they figure out that you like guys too? You gonna run back here again to get away from them?"
"I can deal with the media if I have to," he says, sharp and loud with frustration. "All this stuff you're saying is bullshit, Jensen. Give me a real reason for you to stay here."
"I'm not rearranging my entire life for some relationship I don't even know will succeed! You and me, we're not those teenagers we used to be; we're so fucking different now. Everything's different and there're no guarantees we'll work out. We didn't before."
"I'm not trying to say that things'll be perfect!" Jared stands too, crossing the room so that they're only a step apart. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, and his hands are clenched in fists like that's the only thing keeping him from reaching out. He says, "I sound like a damned cliché, but we've got something that could be fucking special, and I think it's worth at least trying, even if we do end up going down in flames. Don't you think we're worth trying?"
"Jared, I said no, and I'm not gonna argue with you." He backs away, putting some distance between them.
"So that's it? Just no, not thinking about it, nothing?"
"You don't get it…"
"No, no. I get it. You're too fucking scared to do anything but stick to your comfortable little life. You just like to play it safe. That's your problem Jensen… you always play it safe. Never take a fucking chance on anything. Even me. That's why you broke it off back then, isn't it?"
"Oh, don't you bring that up."
"Yeah, I'm bringing it up. You never gave me a reason and I deserved an explanation! Not just a, 'I think we shouldn't do this anymore' over the goddamned phone. But that was it. You're out there in Washington, and I'm all the way in California and you just decide that it can't possibly work. It was too much risk, and you were too fucking afraid to fail. Just like your job. Teaching's safe and easy for you, so you fucking gave up on what you wanted before you could let yourself down."
"Screw you," Jensen bites out.
"What, did I hit a nerve there?"
"Fuck you! You don't know a fucking thing about me anymore. But you! Things may change, but you're still so damned impulsive. How many times have you just run into something without thinking, only to have it blow up in your face? If we're gonna talk ancient history, how about the time you outed us to our parents? Or all the times you nearly got us caught at school? Hell, did you even think about the consequences before you started this again last night? You were the one who kissed me; you're the one who didn't let us talk about it this morning. You're the one who wants me to drop everything and follow after you like a damned dog. You never fucking think."
"So that's what you think of me? That I'm a dumbass who doesn't think things through? Well, I think you could fucking well do with being a little more impulsive."
"Yeah? Well look what it got you. Marriage and divorce."
"That has nothing to do with us."
"So your carelessness in relationships isn't a valid point now? The fact that it didn't work out when you recklessly married some woman isn't something I should be worried about?"
"Katie and me might not have worked out, but I did love her. And yeah, things suck now that it's ended, but I wouldn't trade it. Ever. When me and her were good... it was good. But you and me, we were better, Jensen. We were better. But I guess that doesn't matter."
Jared takes a moment, just breathing heavily and letting everything he's feeling show on his face. Between the hot frustration shining in his eyes and the tension in the lines of his forehead, Jared's hurt is clear and as sharp as the tone of his voice. He turns and leaves without another word. Jensen halfway expects him to slam the door on his way out, but he doesn't, letting it close with a soft snick that's almost worse, more final. And Jensen is alone.
* * * * *
The four days following their fight are some of the most unpleasant in Jensen's recent memory. Even he has to concede that he spends most of the time in an undignified mope as he goes over the fight in his head, trying to figure out how everything went to shit so quickly. He keeps to his condo, leaving only on the first day to get enough alcohol to last him until Jared is gone, and ignores no less than two calls from his parents and five from Mike. Jensen spends most of his time on the couch with a beer, even once digging out some old high school photos in a fit of melancholy. All in all, Jensen considers it a pretty successful sulk. He's still not sure what he wants; until Jared left, he would've said he just needed things to go back to normal. But now it just feels like he's accidentally thrown away something important, like he's failed a test he didn't even know he was taking.
Friday afternoon is sunny but unseasonably cool, and it is the day when Jensen finally begins to feel the need to interact with the outside world. If he spends one more minute cooped up inside, he's going to do something stupid like call Mike and spill the whole stupid story, or worse, call Jared. Not caring where he goes, Jensen makes himself halfway presentable, throws on shoes, and heads out.
He's not three steps down the path between his door and the garages when he notices someone walking towards him. A very tall, very familiar someone whose presence makes Jensen feel all contorted inside. He stops where he is and lets Jared come to him. Jared's dressed in his usual casual, but he might as well be in a funeral suit to match the grimness on his face, his previous enthusiasm and hope all but gone. They face each other for a moment, only a few feet from Jensen's door, neither seeming to know what to say.
"Um, hi," Jared says at last, his gaze fixed on his own shoes like he can't bring himself to meet Jensen's eyes.
"Hi."
"I… I'm going back tomorrow. And I didn't want to leave things between us like this. I didn't mean… I wasn't going to bother you; I just wanted to leave this for you." Jared produces a folded white envelope from his jeans pocket. He offers the letter, and Jensen gently takes it, careful not to let their fingers brush. "I wanted to say, well, a lot of things. The rest is in the letter, but it all kind of boils down to I'm sorry. That's it, so, um, bye, Jensen." He turns and goes back down the sidewalk.
Jensen's heart is beating furiously as he watches Jared, going faster with each step further away Jared gets. He can't let Jared walk away, not yet. "Wait," he says. Jared pauses and looks back. Jensen holds up the envelope. "Tell me?"
Jared comes closer again, nerves clear as he rubs his palms against his thighs. "I'm sorry for everything I said the other night. Well, the part where I said… those things I said. I'm not sorry for caring about you, or for asking you to come to California. You said I'm impulsive, and yeah, I can be, and yeah it's a problem sometimes. But I didn't see asking you to come with me as one of those things. Even after you broke up with me, I still…" He looks at Jensen and bites his lip before continuing, "Can't say I didn't think it through if it's something I wanted since I was seventeen." He shrugs. "But it was too much; I get that. I just wanted us to have a chance. I think we can still have one.
"I get that you're not comfortable leaving Goodson, or having a long distance relationship, but I'm not ready to completely give up on us yet. So I'm leaving it up to you. You've got my cell number, and my home phone and email are in there." He gestures to the envelope still in Jensen's hand. "If you think we can sort things out… I'm hoping we can talk, really talk this time. Or not, if you don't want to. It's your decision." He meets Jensen's eyes, a penetrating look, like he's taking his final fill. "That's it, I guess. Pretty much everything I wrote."
"Okay," Jensen says.
"So I'll talk to you later, maybe. If not…" Jared runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture to match the devastated look in his eyes. "Then good-bye, Jensen."
Jared takes a few steps back before he turns and walks away in earnest, and Jensen lets him this time. Jensen stands there until Jared is out of sight before heading back for his door, the letter still clutched in his hand. Once inside, he drops the envelope on the table and flops down on the sofa. He's got a lot to figure out.
Hours later, Jensen is still on his couch, feet propped on the coffee table, staring at a blank spot on the wall like it can give him some sort of insight. Unfortunately, like the table and the floor and the television he stared at earlier, the wall stubbornly provides him with nothing. He's skipped dinner, has almost opened the letter six times, and he is, above all, really fucking confused.
There's a list in his mind, of all the practical reasons why he should stay right where he is. He has his carefully constructed life, which was going perfectly okay until Jared waltzed in. Had Jared never shown up, he would have been fine sticking it out in Goodson indefinitely. He's got family, job, and a home, all of it set in place. All of it easy. And while it should be so simple, he's no closer to a decision about what he wants to do about Jared.
What Jensen needs, he figures, is an outside opinion.
The other end of the line rings so long that it almost goes to voicemail, but Mike picks up on the last ring with a, "You bastard, it's twelve thirty, I've just gotten back from the most craptastic date in history, and where the hell have you been for the last week?"
"It's been a weird few days," Jensen says. He laughs, a small, brittle noise.
"Dude, what's up with you? You sound like shit."
"Fuck. It's Jared. Him and me…" He lets it out, the whole story from that night at the pool to their stupid fight to Jared's apology. He explains about Jared's offer, and how he reacted to it, and how Jared's leaving tomorrow afternoon, leaving Jensen with little more than a letter.
When he finishes, Mike says, "I knew this wasn't gonna end pretty."
"Yeah, well, at least you didn't say you told me so."
"I do have some discretion, you know. So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know! I don't know if I should call him, or forget all about him or what. Tell me what to do."
"Fuck, Jensen, what am I supposed to say? It's not like I can make the decision for you."
"I was hoping you could make it a little easier on me, though."
"I don't know, man. You're the only one who knows if you're gone enough over Jared to pack up everything and go with him. Or to work your ass off to keep it going when he's there and you're here. Hard as it is, this is something you gotta figure out for yourself. All I can do is be all supportive and shit no matter what you decide. I'm sorry I can't help you," Mike says, for once in his life sounding completely sincere.
"Yeah, you're the best friend ever." Jensen means it to come off sarcastic, but his tone falls short.
"So unless you wanna come over here and help me drown my sorrows over the worst date ever, I'm gonna go to bed and pretend most of tonight was a bad dream."
"I'll let you get to sleep. Thanks for listening to my crap."
"Hey, it's in the job description. Call me tomorrow and let me know you haven't died in a pool of your own vomit, you hear?"
"Sure. You can tell me all about your date."
"Dude, trust me, you don't wanna know."
"I'll take your word on that, then. Talk to you tomorrow." Jensen ends the call and tosses his phone to the other end of the sofa.
As Jensen sits and stares at the phone, one thing Mike said rings in his head: if you're gone enough over Jared. And that's the question.
He had never been happier than when he was with Jared, during both their year and a half history and this confusing and amazing summer. And while Jared could really stand to think things over more sometimes, Jensen had liked the silly and thrilling things they'd done. Jared burst back into his life, rearranging Jensen's careful comfort to make room for himself, made himself fit like no one else ever has. Jensen knows he loves Jared, really, truly, conquers-all loves him, despite their past and present problems. That, he realizes, is not something he has to debate. Jared makes Jensen feel…
As Jensen's practically determined, he loves Jared. And as hurtful as what Jared said was, he had a point. For nearly ten years, Jensen has lived his life so afraid of failing that he avoided ever risking anything, and the price for that safety was his goals. Giving up on his old dreams, never getting out of Goodson, even how he's kept himself safely in the closet and free of a serious boyfriend. If he never speaks with Jared again, it will be another in his long line of opportunities given up. His relationship with Jared will have been a failure. But if he keeps in touch, there's a chance. A chance for Jared, a chance to break the holding pattern he's been stuck in. He could email Jared, or even call him, and start fixing things right now.
Or he could stay in Goodson, stay at the high school. Have a secure income and home. Learn to live with a job he's good at instead of a career that calls him. Stay close to a good, if slightly crazy, friend. Maybe someday find a guy who's willing to keep a relationship quiet, and he can be happy. And maybe pigs will soar over the snowdrifts in hell.
There's only ever been one choice.
Jensen gets up and heads for his computer.
* * * * *
The airport isn't particularly crowded, just the normal bustle of families on summer vacations and white-collar workers setting off on business trips. Jensen weaves his way through them with the kind of determination he hasn't felt in a long time. He strides past shops and fast food restaurants, security personnel and harried travelers. Somewhere, a flight attendant calls out final boarding over a loudspeaker and he continues through the terminal, letting nothing distract him from finding the correct gate.
The waiting area is only half full when he gets there, so it's easy to spot Jared, whose height makes him stand out even when sitting. He's by himself in a seat near the giant window, and Jensen can see the waiting plane outside over his shoulder. His head is down, and he's got earbuds in, his foot subtly tapping to the beat of whatever he's listening to. Even at a distance, Jensen can tell that Jared looks about as bad as he feels - exhaustion in the hunch of his back, stress in the clench of his hands - and Jensen wonders if he and Jared shared the same sleepless night.
For the first time since arriving at the airport, Jensen pauses, watching Jared as his mind races. Like a thousand instances on the way over, he considers turning back. He could run all the way home, call or email Jared later like any sane person would do, like he had planned to up until the moment he decided to come here. But he's in the airport now, and he's got something to prove, not to Jared, but to himself. This isn't something he's giving up on.
The choice to leave is taken away from him, though, when Jared looks up and right at him. He watches as shock spreads over Jared's expression, the way his eyes widen and his mouth parts, how he sits up a little straighter. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Jensen walks over and takes the seat next to Jared.
"Jensen? What are you doing here?" he asks, all surprise and tampered-down hope.
"Getting on a plane," Jensen answers, going for nonchalance and missing the mark entirely. "That's what people usually do in airports, doofus."
"Jensen. What are you doing here?"
"I... I wanted... I was hoping..."
He tries, but he can't say it, can't articulate everything he's felt and thought and wished for over the past day, not with Jared right there. He can't tell Jared, so he does the next best thing and leans over for a quick kiss. It's a fleeting thing, lips meeting for a fraction of a moment before Jensen pulls away again, the most he's willing to do where anyone could be watching them. But it's electric all the same, the familiar current of want mixing through the fear that's been running through him since he made his decision.
"Jensen?" Jared sounds young, and scared, like he's afraid Jensen might break his heart. "Tell me what's going on?"
Jensen pulls his boarding pass out of his pocket and hands it to Jared, pointing to where it says Dallas to Los Angeles. "I'm doing something spontaneous," he says.
Jared gasps, looking back and forth between Jensen and the ticket as he stutters out, "You're coming to California?"
"If the invitation still stands."
"Just for now or…?"
"I was thinking for good," Jensen says. "Again, if… if you still want me to."
Jared struggles to keep hope from coloring his expression, corners of his mouth barely turning upwards in anticipation of a smile. "What about your job and everything else?"
"I can find a new job, and they can deal without me. I can sell the condo, Mike can find new people to annoy, and I don't see my parents that often anyway. I know we won't be perfect, and I know we've gotta talk, but I'm willing. I want to give it a shot." He looks to Jared, trying to project everything he's feeling, all the hope and uncertainty. "So what do you say?"
Jared gives up the fight against his grin, letting it spread across his face, and it's the most wonderful thing Jensen's ever seen. Jared puts his hand over Jensen's on the armrest, lacing their fingers loosely together in an affirmation more subtle than a kiss. "You know," Jared says, "I'm going to need a date for my next high school reunion. Maybe you could fill the spot."
"Well, maybe. When exactly would it be?" Jensen smiles back as he begins to believe he can have this.
"Oh, in about ten years."
"I think I can keep my schedule clear."
Artwork
(click images to go to the posts)
by smiledrawinglie by violettestars