Misplaced Childhood -Part 2 : Chapter 6
Nobody said it would be easy.
On a purely intellectual level, Jensen knows this. It’s different, though, to experience it day to day; to feel so awake, a sum of broken parts trying clumsily to unite, to become something.
The first week is the worst.
The convalescent center is a very nice place, and he has a room all to himself on the second floor, with a large window through which he can look at the small park and the wooded area farther away. He’s left alone. A nurse comes two or three times a day to see how he’s doing, to take his vital signs, bring fresh towels and change the sheets. He’d asked to have his meals brought to his room, not feeling ready to socialize. He has a TV and internet access. There is a laundry service. He feels like he’s being treated in a way he doesn’t deserve, like he’s someone special, someone worth it.
Misha Collins has found him a general practitioner, a young, dark- haired man whose name keeps eluding him. He talks about anemia and malnourishment. Jensen is too thin, his blood work shows he's missing some stuff. All of it is very boring. Jensen takes the vitamins and iron pills prescribed, and when he’s not hungry enough to finish his meals, he makes a point of drinking the protein shake coming with it.
Collins visits every day. They talk. At first, it’s never more than half an hour, although it leaves Jensen exhausted as if it’s been days; days of exposing himself, exploring dark corners of his mind that he’d prefer to ignore. He’s been prescribed an anti-depressant. Hadn’t liked the idea, at first, because it’s drugs, and he doesn’t quite understand the difference between the ones he used to take and this. Both are supposed to ease the pain away. Not the same thing, Misha Collins insists. Trust me, Jensen, this is something you need. We can reassess in six months. This will help.
Jared comes everyday too. He spends hours with Jensen. When Jensen asks about his work, Jared tells him not to worry -he’s the owner of the company, after all.
Jared stays late into the night. He lies down with Jensen and holds him. Most of the time, Jensen falls asleep before he leaves.
Jared seems content, so Jensen stops protesting that he can just go on with his life, that Jensen is well taken care of. It’s not true anyway. Jensen needs him.
He doesn’t sleep well, is plagued by nightmares. Sometimes, even when he’s awake, he can’t shake the feeling that some nasty presence is there with him, following his every move like a shadow. Glass. His squinty, dark eyes, his huge hands, his foul breath. And all Jensen wants to do is to curl in on himself and feel some pain to anchor him in reality. Once, he digs his nails in the meat of his palms enough to leaves some marks. He tells Collins about it. He’s scared of what he could do to himself. Before he’d started to do drugs, when he’d been thirteen or fourteen, the self-harm had become serious and uncontrollable. He’d take a sharp razor blade and dig into the skin of his arms, his thighs, until blood was flowing enough to make him feel sick, ready to pass out.
Collins understands this. He says it’s a defense mechanism he'd developed at an early age, that it won't just go away all of sudden. Jensen has to acknowledge it and find an alternative, healthier way to cope. One night, Jensen wakes up terrified, enough to feel it: the need, the slow, burning emotional numbing of morphine or codeine -anything, really. He tries not to hurt himself but he’s panicking, and he finds himself sitting in the small closet of his room, door closed, searching for some peace, security while he's wrapped in the narrow darkness. He doubts this is a healthier way to deal, and tells Misha Collins that much. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Collins answers. He seems to have very low expectations with Jensen, or maybe that’s the way psychotherapy works? He has no idea.
The second week is a little better. Jared had told him that so far, only Felicia knows he’s in Providence, and that she’d been dying to see him. Jensen agrees to a visit. She comes bearing gifts, chocolate and cigarettes and a couple of t-shirts with strange mottoes on them. Jared must have told her how little Jensen has. He feels good enough to take a walk in the park with both of them. Felicia babbles constantly about Jared and work and life in general. Jared takes Jensen’s hand and doesn’t let go. For the first time in years, Jensen feels… normal.
He’s ready to leave the convalescent center at the end of the second week. Misha Collins is okay with it. Jensen will meet with him twice a week to begin with. Jared is very excited about the whole thing. He’s prepared a room for Jensen, has filled the fridge and cupboards with food, after asking what Jensen preferred. He looks like a kid on Christmas Eve. He asked permission to tell his family about Jensen, not going into details, just stating that Jensen will come to live with him for a while.
“They must think I’m such a loser,” Jensen jokes miserably.
“Are you kidding?” Jared answers. “My mom is dying to see you. I told her it would have to wait, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d popped in at my place despite my warnings. You know her.”
For Jensen’s first day at his place, Jared takes the afternoon off. He comes to get him shortly after lunch, chatty and enthusiastic, carrying all of Jensen’s luggage on his own despite Jensen’s protests. He lives in a nice neighborhood, occupying the entire third floor of a small condo complex. Jensen isn’t surprised to see how everything is clean and in order. It fits with Jared’s personality.
Jared has a huge aquarium with a whole bunch of tropical fish that seems to be right out of a Pixar movie. In his living room, there is a section surrounded by two folding screens with two computers, a desk, and different drawings and graphics pinned to the wall. It’s Jared’s work space at home.
The room he’s prepared for Jensen is right next to his. The bed seems enormous. There is a small TV, a set of dressers and a desk with a potted plant. The curtains covering the windows are thick and heavy, the carpet on the floor soft, giving the impression Jensen’s feet are sinking softly into it as he walks into the room.
Jensen is a little breath-taken.
“Wow, this is… wow. Jared, you shouldn’t have,” he murmurs while Jared drops his bags on the bed.
“Almost everything was already there. It’s my guest room, remember?”
“Thanks,” Jensen answers, still impressed. “Thank you, Jared.”
“Nah, I’m just glad you’re here with me,” Jared brushes it off, shrugging. “I figured, maybe you want to nap for a while? Or take a shower? Anyway, there is only one bathroom, but we’ll share. I’ve bought some stuff for you: new toothbrush, shaving cream, razors. If you don’t like it, we’ll go to the store later, or tomorrow.”
Jensen sighs and sits on the bed. He’s very emotional these days and right now, all he wants to do is cry. He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep himself under control.
Jared sits next to him. “Have I said something wrong? Jen, anything, you can tell me, you know.”
“You… I don’t have anything to pay you back, Jay. I mean, I have like… two hundred dollars in my bank account. I don’t have a job, I’ve just spent two weeks at this luxury convalescent home that you paid for, plus the medical fees for the tests and the meetings with Misha Collins and-“
“Jen.”
“No, listen to me: I don’t know how I’mma pay you back. I don’t know if I can work right now, I still feel like I’m a mess. Fragile… and…”
“I don’t care about money,” Jared answers softly. “Listen, I’m serious. Fel and I, we made some serious cash when we sold our app. I never knew what to do with this money except invest in our company, and still… It isn’t important for me, why should it be for you? It’s like you saying to me that you don’t want to use too much of my tap water. The money I have, it doesn’t make me feel special or greedy or… whatever shit money does to people. You have to believe me on this.”
Jensen nods, even if he’s not convinced. It’s not like he has a choice anyway, right? Everything he owns fits in two duffle bags and one small suitcase.
“I’ll be able to work, soon I hope. We’ll share the cost, alright?”
“F’course,” Jared answers distractedly. “But just so you know, Misha doesn’t charge anything for treating you. He included you in this government rehabilitation program, so he receives some money in exchange for giving regular reports on your progress -it’s anonymous, of course.”
“Wow. It’s… nice.”
Jensen doesn’t mind being the subject of some study. As a matter of fact, he’s practically sure he’d signed a discharge to Collins the first day of his admittance at the convalescence center, but he’d signed a lot of papers that day, and wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind to really care.
“So, shower, nap, a bubble bath maybe?”
“I… I think I’ll go sit outside, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re home here. I want you to feel comfortable.”
Jared has a nice, large balcony. Jensen settles in one of the chairs and stretches his legs on the railing, then lights up a cigarette and lets the sun warm his skin, his face. The hell with the new freckles it will probably bring.
It's not long before Jared joins him, offering him a bottle of mineral water and assuring him that he doesn’t have to go out to smoke. Jared doesn’t mind, and he really wants Jensen to feel at home, and he would go on like this probably forever if Jensen didn't stop him.
“Jay. I just want to cut back a little, alright? I’m really not ready to give up tobacco right now, but I figure if I restrict myself to smoking on the balcony, it couldn’t hurt. M’doing this for me.”
“Okay, but if it’s raining or-“
“Jared. Sit down, you’re making me dizzy.”
“Yeah.” Jared drops on the chair next to Jensen. “I’m nervous, Jensen. It shows, right?”
“A little. S’okay, though.”
It's times like these that are worth it, where Jensen doesn’t feel the need so painfully, screaming in his head that he’d feel so much better, that everything would be so much easier with some oxy. It is still there right now, in the back of his head, like an itch he can’t scratch, but it’s so light compare to the usual painful cravings. This should happen more and more often in the weeks to come, Collins has told him, but for now, Jensen has trouble living in the future; he just tries, when he wakes up in the morning, to get through his day.
Right now, though, he’s grateful. He almost feels good, sitting here with the sun warming him and the acrid, bluish tobacco smoke filling his lungs.
“I wish it would always be this easy,” he murmurs.
“Good day?” Jared asks.
“Well, good afternoon. I’m almost… relaxed, I guess.”
“Because you’re home.”
Jensen smiles. “Well, it helps. But, Jared, you do know that I’m not like… cured just because I’ve been clean for a little more than two weeks and I’ve been at this convalescent center.”
“I know.”
“I locked myself in the closet for almost three hours not even two days ago.”
“Yeah,” Jared agrees, the same lazy, comfortable smile on his face. “I’m just glad you’re here, smoking a cigarette on my balcony, looking… well, like you said, almost relaxed. S’good enough for me.”
Jensen can’t really hide his surprise, realizing once more how happy Jared seems to be to have Jensen with him. He has trouble really convincing himself that Jared might need him as much as Jensen needs Jared. And he does. God knows he does.
“So,” he trails off, biting his lips before speaking.
Misha had told him that much: he needs to talk with Jared about a particular issue. “You, huh… said you loved me.”
Jared blushes brightly. It’s kind of beautiful. “Yes. I did.”
“I’ve asked Misha about your asexuality and he told me he thinks you should speak for yourself.”
Jared sighs and leans back on his chair. “I’ve told you.”
“I know. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just… You said you have feelings for me, and I know I have feelings for you, but what does it mean to you, if you can’t-“
“What? Feel physical desire? I don’t know, Jen, it just is. I feel love for you. It makes me happy, just looking at you, cuddling with you, holding your hand. I know that’s probably not what you want, but-“
“It’s more than enough,” Jensen blurts out, because he hates seeing Jared so uneasy and uncomfortable. “Sex has always been a way to just feel something for me, no more, no less. And Misha, he told me that the fact that I’m never really… I don’t know, satisfied? He said it must be a form of dissociation, like my mind splits, somehow, because everything sexual reminds me of Glass and the way he’d molest me. It’s like on some level, I’m huh… protecting myself, like I’m not really there when it happens. It’s something I have to work on, and it certainly isn’t on the table right now… I mean, even if you could, I wouldn’t want that experience to turn out like all those times before.”
“So…” Jared says, and Jensen can tell he’s waiting, almost apprehending what’s coming next.
“So, what does that make us, Jared?”
Jared smiles then, relieved. It’s Jensen’s turn to be the apprehensive one.
“We love each other. Maybe it isn’t healthy, and maybe we shouldn’t, because of what got us together in the first place. I don’t mind, ya’ know. Fuck healthy and normal: neither you nor I have been that since we left that basement. Let’s just not try to give a name and reason to everything we feel. Maybe it will end up in a huge mess, or tears, or both, but for now, all I want is to make you happy.”
Okay, here are the tears coming up again. Jensen swallows, hard. “I wish I could do the same. Wish I wasn’t so….”
“If you say messed up, I’m gonna kick you,” Jared declares very seriously. “What I want to know is if you’re okay with what I’ve just told you.”
Jensen nods and rubs hard at his eyes to prevent the tears from falling. “I’m more than okay.”
“Good.”
It is good.
::: :::
That night, Jensen wakes up around midnight, drenched in sweat, the last remnants of a nightmare still making his heart clench and his teeth chatter. He’d dreamed of sitting at a table covered in sweets and pastries, stuffing himself under Benton Glass’s attentive eyes.
For a moment, Jensen thinks he’s going to be sick, but the nausea recedes slowly. He walks on shaky legs to Jared’s bedroom and sits at the side of the bed. Jared wakes up and blinks at him, mumbles, “Nightmare?”
Jensen nods. Jared moves a little and turns down the sheet; a silent, simple invitation that Jensen is more than relieved to accept. Jared wraps himself around Jensen and breathes deeply in the crook of his neck, sighing. “Feels good to have you so close,” he whispers, still half asleep.
As it turns out, it becomes a habit. Jensen sleeps better in Jared’s arms. Jared says he loves it and wouldn’t want it any other way.
::: :::
Jensen starts drawing again. It’s Misha's suggestion: Jensen must be talented, he says, having worked as a tattoo artist for five years, but more importantly, it’s something he can do to help get through the bad days, talent or not. “You’re an artist at heart, Jensen. Use it to your advantage.” As soon as Jensen tells Jared about this, his friend comes back from work, his arms full of drawing and painting supplies. Genevieve was more than happy to lend him some, Jared explains. Jensen has only met her once: he knows she works on the designs for Jared and Felicia’s video game.
Going through all of that stuff, Jensen settles for a simple pencil. He draws sketches: at first, it’s barely some reproduction of drawings he’s done before for the tattoo parlor. As soon as he gets nervous, or scared, when it feels like Benton Glass is close, watching him with this mad desire in his eyes, Jensen does what Misha Collins told him. He draws.
The drawings evolve over the weeks. Jensen likes to illustrate dark figures coming into the light, screaming faces, mouths obscenely open, desolate landscapes. He takes his sketches to Misha, who’s more than happy to analyze them, speaking of traumatization and anger, the fear of being alone, being forgotten, the need for Jensen to rise to the light as well. He can analyze all he wants. All Jensen knows is that it works. It feels good, losing himself on the paper, letting his hand do the work. He never thinks when he draws, just goes with the flow. And the fear, the cravings, the anxiety recede to the back of his mind.
He starts using colors. Tones of red, crimson, grey and black exploding on the paper. Jared asks his permission to show some of his sketches to Genevieve, who apparently is very impressed. By then, Jensen has been living with Jared for two months and he feels good enough to start looking for a job. That is when Jared proposes that he work for his company, to help with the designs, part time, so that he can take things slow and not overdo.
Jensen thinks about it, then decides not to take up the offer. He knows Jared is hurt and does his best explaining to him that he needs to feel like he can make a life for himself. “Doesn’t change anything between us, Jay. I still need you, I still love you. But I need to know that I won’t be trapped forever in the aftermath of coming clean. I need to reach the next step by myself.”
Jared understands, which isn’t surprising. They get along so well it’s like they’ve always been together. He celebrates when Jensen finds work at a local bakery. It’s part time, and it’s hard. Jensen has to wake up at five to be at work in time to bake the bread that has been rising overnight. He’s alone in the bakery, surrounded by the comforting smell of bread, croissants, and buns baking. He likes it. It’s simple, down-to-earth work. He always comes back to the condo with something freshly baked. Jared says he’s putting on some weight because of him.
Christian calls twice a week and visits a couple of times, bringing stories about the tattoo parlor and the new employee he hired who isn’t half good as Jensen was, but can take care of the most simple tattoos. He talks about Danni a lot, until Jensen makes him admit that there is something going on between the two of them. Christian is scared of taking it to the next step. Scared of becoming his father, he says in a gruff voice. Jensen uses some psychological tricks he’s learned from his therapy with Misha to convince him of the contrary. Christian becomes all kinds of awkward and red in the face, but he listens.
He understands that Jensen doesn’t want to visit him in Chicago. He knows it doesn’t have anything to do with him. Jensen has the feeling he’s left a version of him back there, a man he doesn’t want to be ever again. They both know that even if Christian repeats that he could have his old job back any time, it won’t happen.
Autumn in Providence is beautiful, more than Jensen remembers. He often drives around in the rusty, used car he bought with a little help from Jared. He spots places he especially likes and draws. Most of the time, the result doesn’t have a lot to do with what’s in front of his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. There are more colors now, less red and black. Misha is more than happy to analyze this as a sign that Jensen is really getting better. He shrugs in return. He just draws what comes to mind and lets it flow onto the paper. His meetings with Misha have been reduced to one per week. He doesn’t feel he needs more.
One afternoon, in the psychiatrist’s office, Jensen calls his mother. It’s something they’ve talked about often. Jensen is angry at his mother. There has been more than one occasion where he's burst into tears and yelled, thinking back about how lonely he’d felt when he was a kid, how desperate to be held and told that it was okay to be scared, okay to ask questions, to talk about the Bad Man and the things he’d done to him. When Misha asks him to elaborate about his feelings, Jensen can’t. He doesn’t know how. There is still a part of him that loves his mother, and he knows that growing up, he hadn’t made it easy for her either. “I don’t think she acted the way she did to hurt me, not consciously, but she did anyway,” he says in a uneasy voice.
It’s his idea, though, to call Donna. He never contacted her since he left, and guilt is weighing heavily on his shoulders. He’d never realized it’s been there from the beginning. He’s not ready to work things out between them, if he ever will, but he wants her to know he’s still alive, at least.
Misha is the one suggesting who suggests that he try during one of their meetings, and he’s probably right, because Jensen has trouble dialing the phone number he’s never forgotten, his finger shaking badly. He’s sweating and thinking about morphine, how easy it would be to do this if he was riding the lazy high of the drug. The cravings aren’t as bad now, but they’re still there. Misha says an addict will remain an addict for the rest of his life, just like an alcoholic will remain an alcoholic, even after years of abstinence. Jensen will always have to make the conscious decision of not going back to drugs.
He wishes his mother wouldn’t answer: maybe she doesn’t even live there anymore, maybe his granny will be the one nearest to the phone.
But no. After two rings, Jensen recognizes Donna’s voice. Something swells in his throat, he starts shaking. Misha puts his hand on his shoulder and presses it lightly.
“Mom, it’s… it’s Jensen.”
“Jensen? Oh my god, baby,” his mother answers, bursting into tears. It makes Jensen angry to hear her break apart, makes him realizes he’s not ready, not ready at all, to address all the issues he has.
“Just wanted to let you know that I’m fine, mom. It’s-“
“Jensen, please talk to me, tell me where you are. I’ve been so worried about you. Please-“
He can’t breathe anymore. He wants to yell, wants to cry too, wants to ask why. He doesn’t even know what this question means, where it would lead them. “I… mom, I’m going to call you later, okay?” he says, trying to cover his mother’s sobs. “Sorry, I can’t-“
He hangs up the phone and shoves his head between his hands. Misha stays there, a reassuring presence, his hand on Jensen’s shoulder unmoving. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
“It was,” Jensen cries. “Why is everything so difficult, every fucking step I take…”
“Because that’s life,” Collins says in a soft voice. “And life isn’t fair.”
And maybe he’s right, but if life allowed Jared and him to live together, it may be not completely unfair.
To be absolutely honest with himself, Jensen knows that he’s feeling better than he has in years. He sometimes has trouble believing it, when he wakes up in the morning after a dreamless, peaceful night, tucked in Jared’s solid embrace. And as time passes, he thinks less and less about the other time Jared and him were holding to each other, back in a damp basement. Cuddling with Jared on the couch, running his fingers through his silky bangs, kissing him on the cheeks and the neck, murmuring nonsense and laughing like idiots when they go to bed: this belongs to them, only them. There is no place between them for a madman, for fear, or for childhood desperation.
::: :::
“So, Jensen is like… your boyfriend?”
Jared heard this question from Felicia, from Meggie and Jeff -even from his mother, although she used a different sentence -hell, a whole paragraph, with so much detours Jared had felt dizzy.
He doesn’t know how to answer at first. One evening, as Jensen and he are playfully fighting in bed for the TV remote, Jared gets a grip on it and holds it over Jensen's head, asking, short of breath: “Are we boyfriends?”
Jensen looks at him for a long time, then take advantage of Jared’s distraction to snatch the remote. He smiles. He looks healthier now. His nose and cheeks are full of freckles from a summer spent outside; he’s cut his hair short to get rid of the dye, and now it's growing, soft, this dark blond tint that Jared remembers from ten years ago. Jensen’s face is a little rounder, too, his mouth is fuller, lips red and plump.
He’s kind of beautiful.
“Yeah. We are,” Jensen breathes out.
“We don’t have sex,” Jared declares, sounding a little more anxious than he wants to.
“Maybe we’re saving each other for the night of the wedding,” Jensen jokes, still shuffling through the channels. “Yes! Night of the Living Dead! They’re coming for you, Barbara…” He whispers in a scratchy voice, looking at Jared with what must be his zombie impression.
“I was trying to have a serious conversation here, Jensen!” Jared protests with irritation.
Jensen’s face immediately crumbles. He turns the TV off and turns toward Jared, softly pushing a long strand of hair away from his face. “I’m sorry. I know that you think about this a lot, but I don’t mind, Jared. I swear.”
“You’re getting better,” Jared murmurs, and damn it, he never had the intention to turn this into some kind of whiny discourse but it’s too late now. “You’ve been clean for almost six months, you have a job, you’re not as anxious as you used to be, you don’t… need me like you used to. What if you meet someone who can make love to you and-“
Jensen’s reaction is so surprising that at first, Jared can only stay there, completely immobile, his mouth opened wide. The hit Jensen gave him on the thigh wasn’t that strong, but the way he’s pacing in the room back and forth, lighting a cigarette with anger despite the fact that he never smokes inside, is so unlike him nowadays that Jared doesn’t know what to think.
Jensen has never been mad at him before. Never. Even that time back in Illinois, when he’d realized that Christian had gone behind his back and asked Jared to come, Jensen’s anger was more like agitated desperation toward himself, not Jared.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Jensen growls between his teeth. “Is that all I am to you? A needy, broken guy? So what, you won’t love me anymore if I don’t need you the way I used to? Fuck you, Jared.”
Is that what he said? Jared feels a surge of anxiety prickling his skin and creating a film of cold sweat all over his body. He pushes the covers back and sits at the side of the bed, ready to stand up, except he doesn’t. He’s scared his legs won’t support him. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he rasps.
“Then what, for god’s sake? Tell me, because that’s exactly what it sounds like. And for the record, Jared, I’ll always need you. It’s not because I’m not the mess I used to be that it changes anything about what I feel for you! Shit, I thought you’d gotten it!”
“Well, I’m stupid,” Jared agrees. “I am, and I’m scared to lose you. Because I’ve been working on it, trust me, but Misha thinks I might never be able to overcome my… condition. I can’t relegate you to have a life without sex just because I don’t want to lose you. How fair is that?”
“It’s not fair. Not for you, not for me, but what can we do? I mean, I don’t miss my shitty sex life. I’ve jerked off in the shower maybe two times since I came clean, and it wasn’t even enjoyable, Jared. What’s so different between you and me? It’s like I would have chosen you only because I knew you would leave me alone and not ask for sex.”
Jensen sighs and drops near Jared on the bed. All of his anger seems to have disappeared as quickly as it came. “I know how it is, trust me, to be so full of doubts, it’s like choking on it. I’m always scared you only stay with me out of pity and-“
“Jen, we’ve been through this-“
“Exactly!” Jensen says in a triumphant voice. “See? I trust you, I believe you, but sometimes my mind plays tricks on me and the doubts come back.”
Jared smiles, can’t help it. “Are you like… going all Misha on me?”
“Maybe, but you get the point. We’re kind of happy, right? You and me and our non-existent sex life?” Jensen has this lopsided smile that Jared loves so much.
“We are,” Jared agrees.
He kisses Jensen’s forehead, feeling light and euphoric all of sudden, that he gets to have this, Jensen, by his side, day after day.
Jensen opens the window of the bedroom and throws his cigarette butt outside. It’s freezing. He makes quick work of shutting it and jumping back into bed, huddling under the covers. Jared joins him. Their feet tangle together. He likes it.
“Misha said we could maybe have a couple of sessions together with him, to talk about our relationship.” He declares, yawning.
“Right, anything you want,” Jensen says, turning the TV back on. “Now, Night of the Living Dead, right? Trust me man, you don’t know a thing about zombies if you haven’t seen Romero’s classic.”
“What if I don’t want to know about zombies?”
Jensen rolls his eyes and pats Jared’s thigh. “Now you’re just being stubborn. And stupid. Everybody likes zombies.”
Jared falls asleep before the end, but as his eyes start closing despite himself, he knows Jensen won’t mind.
::: :::
The first time it happens, Jared and Jensen have been living together for eight months. It’s one of those sinister, cold January nights in Providence, a Friday. They haven’t seen a lot of each other that week. Jared has been busy with work. Their videogame is entering a delicate phase: after months of programming, they have a beta version they need to test. They find a lot of glitches, some continuity errors, things that just don’t work with the characters. It’s a necessary step, but it’s still a little discouraging. They all knew they still had almost a year’s work ahead, but still.
As for Jensen, he’s been working double shifts at the bakery to replace one of the employees. He comes home with flour in his hair and rainbows sprinkles sticking to his arms. They usually fall asleep as soon as they hit the mattress. Jared accuses Jensen of snoring when he’s tired. Jensen replies that he, at least, doesn’t sweat enough to drench the sheets. They laugh about it. They’ve become so familiar with each other. Jensen’s smell, his presence, his voice -all of this is home for Jared.
They try to do something together on Friday since they’ve seen so little of each other. They go to Jensen’s favorite restaurant and stuff themselves with giant steaks, but when Jared sees Jensen yawning and rubbing at his eyes, he decides to skip dessert and takes them back home. They go straight to bed, tangled in each other, and sure enough, the last noise Jared hears before falling asleep is Jensen’s light snoring.
Jared doesn’t sleep well. He has trouble digesting and keeps waking up before falling back in an agitated sleep. He’s usually the big spoon, but that night, it’s Jensen, pressed against Jared’s back, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
Hard.
Jensen is hard. Jared can feel his cock pressed against his lower back. It isn’t the first time it happens -hell, even Jared wakes up with a boner from time to time.
Jared tries to free himself from Jensen’s grip: it usually works. Jensen will turn on his belly and mumble something and it will be the end of it. It’s not even a reason for awkwardness: they’ve both been pretty open about it, even when having their common meetings with Misha Collins. Jensen has a tendency to apologize, which Jared brushes off, stating that his body is only reacting normally. He’s sleeping, what can he do about it anyway?
This time, though, when Jared tries to push Jensen back, he gets a long moan in return. Then Jensen pushes his hips closer and sighs deeply, murmuring his name.
It does things to Jared, the way Jensen moves. It’s not that surprising. He’s been sensitive to this lately, thinking about Jensen’s pale body, his freckled skin, the narrowness of his hips. He’d caught himself staring at his full mouth, green eyes and long, dark lashes. Felt something warm in his stomach whenever Jensen smiled, or hugged him. Even his smell is now something Jared feels drunk on, breathing in deeply in the crook of his neck when they’re about to fall asleep.
He doesn’t know if this can be a manifestation of physical desire, because it is all so new to him. Misha says that it’s not necessarily the answer: maybe Jared’s body is simply in the process of learning that sexual needs aren’t bad things, not dirty or wrong or downright nightmarish.
“Jen,” Jared murmurs, pressing his boyfriend’s hand. “Hey, Jensen…”
“Huuuh…” Jensen breathes out, and now his hips are moving, small jerks pressing his hard cock against Jared’s back. He can actually feel some wetness through the thin cotton of Jensen’s boxer briefs. Jared turns back to face him, which gets Jensen to open his eyes, confused, cheeks red and short of breath.
“Jensen, I think you were having a very happy dream,” Jared coaxes, smiling at him.
“Yeah…” Jensen trails off, adjusting himself. “I… I should get up and-“
He’s already trying to sit up. Jared pulls him back. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“Is it… Is it because of me?”
“What is?”
“Your hard-on, your… erection, is it because of me?”
“Of course, whom else?” Jensen answers immediately. “I mean, you’re gorgeous, Jared, and you’re tall, and muscular, and… But I don’t want you to feel like I’m asking something from you. I should let you sleep and…” Jensen snorts, pressing his hand on his crouch. “I'll go take care of business, I guess?”
“I want you to do it,” Jared declares. “I’m not sure I can, you know, participate, but I want to see what you look like when you pleasure yourself because of me.”
“Jared, are you…” Jensen’s eyes are wide in the moonlight. “What we’ve got going on, here, it’s good. I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t.”
“Jay-“
Seeing Jensen so hesitant, Jared makes a bold move and lowers the sheets. He sees the bulge in his boyfriend’s briefs, sees the wet spot darkening the fabric. And he wants to see more. With an unsure hand, he grabs the elastic band of Jensen's boxers and lowers it down so that it rests under his balls.
Jensen grunts, his eyes closed. His cock is hard, an angry shade of pink, and just as Jared bends forward to have a better look at it, a drop of precome bubbles at the slit and slowly starts sliding down the side of the red mushroom head. The warm, tickling sensation starts burning in the pit of Jared’s stomach.
“Do it, Jen,” he says, caressing Jensen’s cheek softly. “Please, wanna see it.”
“Damn it,” Jensen swears, looking like he’s in pain.
He does it, though, lowers his hand and gathers the wetness at the tip of his cock before wrapping his hand firmly around his shaft, shivering. “Wanna do it,” he murmurs, moving his hand up and down. “Wanna do it so bad but don’t want to mess us up.”
“You won’t. I swear you won’t. Show me.”
Jensen seems to give up all of his uncertainty. He jerks himself off with quick, hard motions, cupping his balls with his other hand. His eyes are barely open: just a slit of green, his forehead is covered in sweat. Jared can see his nipples peaking under his white t-shirt.
It’s beautiful. All of it. Jared is frozen in place, trying to take everything in, the way Jensen grunts and moans, the way his hips jerks upward, his legs that are parted and bend at the knees, the head of his cock, appearing and disappearing in the circle of his fingers.
“Close,” Jensen pants.
“You’re gonna come?”
“Fuck yeah.”
His movements are frantic, his mouth parted, the grunts replaced by a series of high-pitched “oh’s” and it’s sexy, Jared can understand that much. “You’re all here, right, Jen?” he asks, getting closer until he can murmur directly in his boyfriend’s ear. “You’re here with me, all of you, right?”
Because Jared needs to be sure, needs to know that this mind-splitting things thing that Jensen had talked about with Misha isn’t happening right now, that Jensen really feels everything he’s doing to himself.
“Yeah, oh, so good… Never… Jared-“
Jensen tenses all over, his eyes shut tight. He gives his cock a couple of hard jerks and starts coming, moaning loudly, swearing, shivering, as he spills over his hand and belly.
Jared is kind of breathless. He kisses Jensen on the cheek, gets even closer to him. “That’s it, Jensen, ride it. You’re so fucking beautiful… Love you, love you so much.”
Jensen turns his head toward him, his pupils blown and this huge, incredibly gorgeous smile on his lips. “Love you too, Jay. It… it never felt that good before. Just knowing you were there, watching me.”
Jared smiles back and wraps his arms around Jensen’s warm body, hugs him tight, not caring about the semen sticking to his own belly, drying on his t-shirt. He breathes in deep the smell of Jensen. It’s so good he could cry.
And the warm feeling burning inside of him expands. He feels a light twitch in his cock. It’s not much, and not a proper erection by any means, but it’s more than Jared has felt in years and for him, it’s close to a miracle.
Okay, so maybe he cries a little, his face buried in Jensen’s neck. Jensen caresses his hair and tells him he loves him, that he’s happy, they’re happy.
In their own, unique way.
Misha would tell Jared to stop thinking so hard, to learn to enjoy what’s given to him without questioning it. Losing control can be a good thing.
We’re really not in that basement anymore, Jared thinks. We finally made it out.
It’s like stepping out of the darkness and into the sun all over again, except this time, Jensen is right there with him.
FIN
Author's notes
There is so much I’d like to say about this story, but I’ll try to keep it short. First of all, I always try to write in the most respectful way possible when I touch on subjects as delicate as this one. That is not to say I can’t make a mistake, and if I offended anyone who’s been a victim of sexual abuse, or has had to support a victim, I’m deeply sorry. That wasn’t my intention at all.
About the story itself, now. As you must have figured out, there is still a lot of unknown facts and events regarding Benton Glass. That was done on purpose, because this story is Jared and Jensen’s, entirely from their point of view. What you know is what they know, and it was never my intention to focus on the monster I created. On the matter of Jensen’s mother, the same thing can be said. We never really get to know her from an objective point of view. She might seem downright evil, but I didn’t plan that -although you guys have the right to hate her. My view is, having been part of parents’ support groups, I came to learn that everyone reacts differently when something traumatic happens to their child, and some are better equipped, emotionally speaking, than others. This can make all the difference for a child who’s been through something so horrible, or who suffers a handicap. Most of the time, a parent that reacts in a way that can be damaging doesn’t do it consciously. In the end, they just try to deal with it as all of us do. We don’t know where Jensen’s mother comes from, we don’t know if she was a well-balanced mother before her son got kidnapped, and I left that open-endedness there. Her reaction to her son’s aggression is seen through Jensen and Jared’s eyes only. What they feel is what you get. :-)
References
When We Were Very Young is a story book for children written by author A.A. Milne. It tells the original adventures of Winnie the Pooh.
Where The Wild Things Are is a story book for children written by author Maurice Sendak. It tells the story of a little boy who decides to let his anger out and visit his “wild side.”
Misplaced Childhood is the title of a concept album from progressive rock band Marillion. The quote at the beginning comes from the first track, Pseudo Silk Kimono.
Button Soup, sometimes called Stone Soup or Nail Soup, is a traditional folk story. The Disney version referred to in my story was part of a book collection. Here’s the cover.
Thanks for reading. This was my first Big Bang experience and it’s been great from start to finish.
Much love,
Etoile
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