RPS Fic: Roads Well Traveled (1/2)
Roads Well Traveled
SPN RPS: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
10,552 words.
AU Fic. Jared's known Jensen since he was born. Jensen's his best friend. They share a house. It's not uncomplicated. Thanks to
light_up, without whom this story would be nothing at all. Thanks for audiencing, encouraging and brainstorming. Two thumbs up. Would use again.
"You think two people can ever be too close?" asks Jared, sprawled back in his lawn chair.
Jensen eyes his slab of watermelon, carefully spits a few seeds onto the patio. Quiet ripens under the sun, splits at the sound of the kids next door splashing into their pool.
"You hear me?" Jared lifts his head up off the reclined back of his chair. "You think--Jesus."
He takes in the evidence of Jensen's methodical consumption of the watermelon, pointillism on flagstone.
"You couldn't grab a paper plate for that shit?"
Jensen raises an eyebrow, rind-deep in the melon.
Jared glares. "You're cleaning that up."
Jensen swallows, bobs his head, spits.
"I'm just saying. That shit better not be there when you go inside."
Jensen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slow. "Yeah." He beams, sunny. "Heard you the first time."
****
Jared's decided to landscape the backyard as his summer project. When he tells Jensen, Jensen looks up from the mail, raises his eyebrows, says, "Hm."
Jared chuckles. "Fuck you. Sing a different tune when we've got the motherfucking Garden of Eden up out back."
Jensen shrugs, unimpressed, tosses Jared the keys off the dining table. "Don't take 85, backed up as hell. 280, off at Evelyn, Home Depot's on your--"
"Thanks asshole, I know where Home Depot is."
Jensen grins. "Makin' sure, is all."
****
There are hills behind the house. In the early summer, on mornings after a night of rain, a mist drifts up from wet ground.
Jared goes running those mornings. He feels the earth give under his feet, the water bead in his hair. Hears his heartbeat and jingling tags, his dogs nothing but hazy outlines moving quickly through the fog.
When he gets home, Jensen's standing in the kitchen, bed-hair and sweats, staring at the tile as he polishes off a bowl of cereal. Another bowl on the counter and Jared smiles, puts his elbows on the counter, eats his soggy cornflakes.
The house is blue with light, and quiet, until Jared drops his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. Grins affectionately at a catatonic Jensen before saying, "Stop making me cereal in the mornings, man. It's like pudding by the time I get here."
Jensen startles, looks up and blinks. "Ate it, didn't you?"
Jared stretches. "Didn't enjoy it. Be a sweetheart and just put out the milk and the cereal, I can get 'em into the bowl myself."
"Hm." Jensen nods. "Okay." He dumps his bowl into the sink, rubs his eyes as he yawns, tired and easy. "Fuck you, too."
****
Jared's back aches, flannel clinging, a fuzzy stick to skin. He leans against the rototiller. Thing wasn't made for his height, and it's showing.
The lawn's clear, though, ready for the new sod Jared's got stacked at the back door. Harley's nosing around, curiously mouthing a clod of dirt and when Jared whistles sharply at him, he grabs it and runs. Settles a safe distance away and swallows it up easily.
Annoyance prickles at the back of his neck, at the edges of the sunburn he knows is spreading there. "Floats your boat, buddy," he says.
He hears the sliding door open and turns to see Jensen poke his head out.
"Hey. Look," Jared says proudly.
Jensen surveys the colorless yard. "Green."
"Give it time," Jared says. "By tonight, if you help me." He gestures towards the pallet of sod at Jensen's feet.
Jensen squints up at the sun. "Take a break, Jay. I'll bring you a beer."
Jared shakes his head. "I want to get this done. Won't take too long with the two of us."
"I've got a date in half an hour."
Sadie slips past Jensen's feet, nails tapping against the patio. She nudges Jared's leg, and he rests a hand on her head. "Oh." He takes in Jensen's dress shirt and slacks for the first time. "Right."
Jensen fiddles with his cuff. "Wanted to ask if you'd seen my black belt."
"Yeah, yeah." Jared keeps his eyes on Sadie. "You left it under my bed, I think."
"Okay." Jensen turns to go, then pauses, takes in the yard again. Cleared expanse ready for new growth, tidy and blank. "Must've been a bitch. I'm impressed, Jared. I'll help when I get back."
Jared laughs. "Tomorrow morning."
Jensen grins. "Save me something to do."
Jared watches him go, then kneels next to Sadie, strokes her chin. "Go get me that beer, girl," he croons.
She licks his hand, takes it gently between her teeth, soft and possessive.
****
Sunday morning burns hot, like the sun's rushing to make up for lost time.
Jared keeps the run short. Still, when they get home, Sadie and Harley are all lolling tongue, heavy panting. Jared puts down water, strides into the kitchen, sees Jensen and a girl.
Room smells of deodorant and pancakes. Jared tries to catch his breath. "Hey," he says.
Jensen grunts.
The girl flushes, cuts a glance at Jensen before smiling at Jared, extending a hand. "Hi. I'm Hannah."
"Jared," he says, taking her hand. It's small in his, the skin pale.
"Hi, Jared." She waves towards the stove. "We made pancakes."
"Great." He takes the seat across from Jensen at the table, slides Jensen's uneaten stack in front of himself.
"Oh." Hannah laughs a little. "I could get you your own plate."
"No, it's--I don't want to put you out. Just want a taste."
"It's fine, really," she says. "There are a few in the pan--"
Jensen clears his throat. "It's okay, babe. Jared can have mine. He looks hungry."
She settles a hand on the pan handle, slim fingers wrapped around it. Sun shifts and suddenly her hair's a nimbus of light, red and flyaway. She's beautiful. Jared's cock stirs in his shorts and he blushes, fills his mouth with food.
"Okay, well. I'm going to take a shower?" she says.
Jensen stands, goes to her, slips one hand under her shirt to stroke her stomach. "End of the hallway."
Jared turns away so he won't have to watch and only just keeps from clapping his hands over his ears. Soft sound of a kiss, of sped up breath, and Jared holds his fork gently, doesn't let his knuckles go white.
After she's gone, Jensen slips back into the seat across from Jared. He nods at Jared's empty plate. "How were they?"
Jared meets Jensen's eyes. A deliberate flash of dimples, and he says, "Perfect."
****
One time, their families went river-rafting together. White water, rocks, and Jensen and Jared at the prow, paddling forward and furious.
This is how they tackle the next week; they run, they drink, they work, all at a water-frothing pace. Jared's got energy to burn, and Jensen matches him stride for stride until Jared decides to stop trying to shake the guy.
So, Friday night, when Jensen asks him where he's going, Jared pauses, one foot out the door and tells him. "Ramblas."
"That tapas bar?" Jensen asks, closing his laptop from his seat at the dining table. "Hip."
Jared grins. "Not really. You been?"
Jensen shakes his head.
"It's kind of a dive, but Sandy likes it, and the drink's okay."
Jensen nods. "Sounds fun."
Jared shrugs, pulls at the bottom of his jacket.
It would be a mistake, he tells himself. Sandy'll flit around him all night, and there's this tension in Jared's shoulders that's just going to get worse. He knows better. He knows a lot better.
But Jensen's sitting there, fingers drumming restlessly against the tablecloth, and Jared says, "You should come."
Jensen's fingers go still, and he nods firmly. "I will."
****
The bar's bordering the middle of nowhere, just far enough from the city center that it's butting up on residences. Laundromat on its left, and a condo across the street. Jensen raises an eyebrow at the C+ from the Health Department displayed proudly at the window, but Jared hustles him past it.
Inside it's all patches of bulb light and shadow, dark scuffed wood under their feet. Crowded tonight, for Ramblas.
Sandy, conveniently, is leaning up against the bar, right by the door, and Jared touches his big palm to her lower back, leans in and says "Boo," into her ear.
"Jared!" She beams. "Just in time," she says, as the bartender drops off a pitcher of sangria.
Jensen comes out from behind Jared, easily lifts the tall pitcher before Sandy can get to it. "Let me get that for you."
"Oh! Jensen!" She smiles again and Jared studiously avoids her gaze. "Didn't know you were coming."
"Not a problem, I hope," Jensen says.
"Of course not!" Sandy recovers. "Thank you. If I had to carry it, half of it would end up on the floor. We're sitting over there."
Jensen peers over the crowd, sees familiar faces. "I'll go ahead?" he asks, not really a question, and forges forward, into the crowd.
As soon as he's out of hearing range, Sandy's brows rise and her mouth twists in concern. "Jared--"
He takes Sandy's elbow, rubs a thumb against the textured skin there. "It's fine. We're all here. You're here. Let's just have a good time, yeah?"
Sandy sighs. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Sandy."
He watches her force herself to stop, turn to order a couple plates of olives, some croquettes. When she's finished, she runs one hand down his shirt, fussing with the buttons. "Just. Tell me it's getting better?"
"Yeah," Jared lies. "Hand to God."
****
Jared suspects Sandy isn't as great at keeping secrets as he would've hoped. Two pitchers of sangria past, and he's starting to feel the weight of his friends' watchful eyes, their gentle steering of conversation.
He's on alert. He doesn't speak to Jensen much. He's being good. He's being really good. Didn't bother nabbing another plate of the fried potatoes, even after he noticed Jensen burn through an order.
Chad challenges him to olive eating contests, and Sandy has him making sangria runs every twenty minutes and between the two of them, Jared's dance card is full up. And, if there's the occasional lull, there's a girl in the corner, looking shy and approachable.
Jared really appreciates approachable.
He's wondering if her hair's naturally blonde when Jensen comes up next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "Just gonna stare at her all night?" he asks.
Jared takes a gulp of sangria, accidentally swallowing down a chunk of apple. He grimaces at the overripeness of it. He glances over at Jensen's empty glass. "You been eating the fruit?"
"Avoiding the subject?"
"Don't eat the fruit," Jared warns. "This sangria--they just toss in whatever shit they have lying around. 'S why it's cheaper than your ma's nightly rates."
"Hey, now. Donna Ackles is a classy lady."
Jared raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I seem to recall a night we came home early from baseball, found out why your parents really have that 'decorative'--"
"Jesus, Jared! We have a pact!" Jensen cuts in, cringing.
Jared laughs from his belly and he sees the girl look up at him from the corner of his eye. Stops abruptly, blushing.
Jensen notices, chuckles. "Fuck, Jared. Just go talk to her. She's been looking your way, too. Everyone at the damn bar has." Jensen shrugs. "It's like you're tall or something."
Thing is, Jensen's so goddamn sure he won't do it, and drunk enough to let that security show. Jared tosses back his drink, ignores the cloying sweetness of the dregs. "You really think I should?"
Jensen puts his elbows on the table, ducks his head. "If you want to, yeah." He looks up, eyes shadowed in the dim lighting. "Unless you're chickenshit. Then you can sit down, owe me a beer."
Jared tells himself not to stare. He nods his head, flags down a waitress. "Beer, for my buddy here," he says. He lets himself look at Jensen's spreading smile, then slips off his stool, heads over to the girl. Her name's Alice, and her lashes are longer than Jensen's, dark and feminine.
****
It's pointless, though, Jared thinks later that evening. As long as he's going home with Jensen at the end of the night, everything else he does--
Even the cool of the night can't cut the warmth of Jensen's hands on his shoulders as Jen guides him into bed. Jensen lingers, and Jared thinks, 'We're always drunk.'
****
Jared's on his hands and knees in the backyard when Jensen finds him the next morning.
"What're you doing?"
Jared doesn't look up, grunts in answer, chopping at the edge of the newly-laid lawn with a small hatchet.
There's a warbler chattering somewhere in the shrubs, and a car makes a screeching turn in front of their house. His ears prick, like he's Harley or something, so he doesn't have to look, doesn't have to see Jensen standing there, framed by the sliding glass door, watching him.
He works his way around the corner, following the curve where the lawn skirts one of the shrub beds and falls back onto his knees. He braces his hands on his thighs, hatchet blade carefully pointing up, and squints over at Jensen, one eye squeezed shut. "Who're you posing for over there?"
Jensen laughs. "Can't a guy stand?"
Jared grins back, blinks away sweat. "Help, asshole. You can pretend you're on the cover of Esquire on your own time."
Jensen disappears inside, then comes back in a minute, shoes in his hand. Toes 'em on as he says, "Front lawn's the one everyone's gonna see."
Jared shrugs, considers his reasons before responding carefully, "This one's for us."
Jensen doesn't reply. He sucks at his teeth as he lugs over a bag of mulch, covers the freshly-cut edges Jared's made.
Jared stands, stretches tall and to the sky. He watches Jensen's hands. They look strong, tan and capable against the dark soil. Jensen piles down the mulch efficiently with firm presses, forearms working. His shirt rides up and Jared can see the dip in his back, the freckles pooled there.
Jared presses his hands to his eyes, until the black behind his eyelids flashes shapes. He grabs the hose, moves to the opposite end of the lawn, waters in the still-fresh sod.
Jensen's voice is quiet, but it carries. Nothing but ambient noise to compete with. "Down the road, should come over and put in a lawn like this at my house. So my kids can run around."
Jared shifts on his feet, asks, "Kids?"
"I want kids." Jensen stands, dusts his hands off on his sweat pants. "And kids roughhouse. Grass is good for that."
Jared hesitates. "I want kids, too." He wishes it didn't come out defensive.
Jensen doesn't meet Jared's eyes. "Parents have been married for more than two decades. That's a feat. They deserve grandkids they can dote on." He tries to smirk. "Little Ackles babies. Don't see you getting pregnant any time soon."
Jared swallows. Sun burns his face and he wonders, idly, if they could grow aloe vera in the yard. "Just say it, Jen," he says, shrugging. "You can just say what you fucking mean."
Jensen looks up and they lock eyes, Jensen's as green as the grass in the light. "Don't tempt me, Jared," he says, so quiet it falls onto the lawn, lies still among the blades.
****
Costco's insane.
"I told you we shouldn't come here on the weekends," grumbles Jensen.
Jared ignores him, eyes the high-def TV's, row after row of crystal-clear picture. "Hey, we should--"
"No, dude."
"Come on! Tell me this wouldn't look damn good in our living room? All black and sleek."
Jensen rolls his eyes, then shrugs. "Alright, man. Let's do it."
Jared lights up. "You serious?"
"Yeah. We probably won't even care about being hungry with a TV this big in our house. And Harley and Sadie won't start trying to kill each other for food for a few months. Plenty of time to get in some quality time with our new TV. No Food Network though. That shit'll only speed the process."
Jared watches him silently for a moment, then asks, "Why such a bitch, Ackles?"
Jensen laughs, maneuvers his way toward the back of the warehouse, forcing Jared to follow. "Fuck off. Just trying to keep your ass in line. Getting paid to tolerate your presence. Might as well try to earn your dad's money."
"Been singing that tune since I was nine." Jared nods an apology to a woman he bumps up against, continues their conversation over the heads of the crowd. "Haven't seen one check pass hands yet. Don't believe you for a goddamn second."
Jensen grins over his shoulder, ducks into the dog food aisle. "Wising up, kid. Used to be I could get you to believe anything."
"Yeah," Jared says. "Used to be."
They lapse into silence as Jensen makes a pass down the aisle, eyes studiously slipping over each mountainous stack of kibble.
Jared waits at one end, smiles politely at a girl that catches his eye. She looks a little like Megan and he remembers their last phone call, her gleeful tone. Calls out to Jensen, "Hey! By the way, I'm onto you, you bastard."
Jensen looks up, startled.
"Confirmed with a reliable source that you were the ass who convinced me that all first graders wore one pieces to the pool, but only the cool ones had a little ruffle around the waist."
Jensen lets out a bark of laughter, plays dumb. "Dude, what?"
Jared's eyes narrow, and he advances on Jensen, finger in the air. "I fucking knew it didn't add up. Only damn way I'd wear that thing the whole fucking summer is if it was you that'd put me up to it."
"Aw, ain't that sweet."
Jared stops a couple feet from him, arms crossed. "Just admit it, man. Wanna hear it from the horse's mouth."
Jensen smiles huge, crow's feet so clear you can almost hear them laughing, holds up a bag of dog food. "Hey, so," he starts, bypassing Jared's accusation, "Sadie's off her feed. Think the lamb & rice'll work out better, yeah?"
"You think you can just mention my dogs and I'll drop the subject?"
Jensen eyes him, still fucking glowing with amusement.
Jared shuffles. He drops his arms reluctantly. Chews his lip before rushing out, "She's not eating?"
Jensen grins, triumphant. "I'll take care of it." He swings the bag up under his arm, toting it down the aisle, then sings out, "Don't I always?" Turns his head just enough to wink. "Kinda did look awful cute in that little tutu of a suit."
Jared shakes his head and watches Jensen wade into the crowd, fighting the smile wanting to spread to his ears. He swallows. Tells himself firmly that Jensen knows exactly what he's doing that this--. This is Jensen at his goddamned best.
****
Jared's looking at bucksaws when Jensen finds him. The oak in the backyard's held up through the spring rains, but it's been due for a pruning since Jensen moved in. They'd used his dad's old handsaw for some of the smaller branches a few months back. Still, it wasn't quite looking right and the consultant he'd called in had confirmed that two of the low hanging branches had sustained storm damage, were dead from the stem collar up.
He's studying a portable 24 inch when Jensen's voice comes from behind him. "Jared. Just call the professionals."
"And shell out cash that could be going into my big-screen fund? No way." He taps the picture on the box in front of him. "Anyway, look at this one. It's collapsible! Bad-ass."
"Sure that word applies?" Jensen sounds skeptical.
Jared finally turns to look at him, finds Jensen holding five little sample cups, crowded in his palm. "Jesus. Greedy bitch."
Jensen rolls his eyes. "They're for your pansy ass."
"Hey! You know I have a traumatic past with those sample bitches. That old lady with the fucking poodle brooch in--"
"You tell this story again, I swear to God."
Jared laughs, peers at the little paper cups. "Anything good?"
"Just take them, asshole. Fucking high maintenance prima donna--"
Jared grins, slides his hands into his pockets and hums a little as he studies the contents of the cups. "Oh," he starts hopefully, "so did you get--"
"Yeah, I snaked a few from the beef teriyaki lady. Like I could miss your fucking bloodhound act as soon as we walked in."
And Jensen's been smiling at him like this since he was in diapers, but it still makes his stomach tighten, his diaphragm take a long stretch. Jensen knows the stories behind every one of his scars, knows his favorite pie is blueberry, that he'll always pick Fox McCloud when they play Smash Bros and Jared--he feels hemmed in, all colored up, not a stray mark outside the lines. It's always gonna be like this, he thinks. There's no end in sight. "You're too nice to me."
Jensen's about to brush it off, but Jared sees his eyes narrow suddenly, can see it happen as he slows, recalculates. Every furrow in Jensen's brow disappearing and he huffs quietly. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
****
Jensen picks up a consulting job later that week.
It's the same job he'd been bitching about a few nights back. Some long-winded discourse about how they weren't paying him enough for the amount of work they were expecting. Jared's not exactly sure. He tends to tune out when Jensen talks about work. Jensen's passionate enough about management science for the both of them.
Still. He knows enough to plan for Jensen to be out of work for a little while longer, figures he can weed the side beds, trim the hedges. The fence is looking a little rickety. He'd had it all laid out.
So Jared's a little surprised when he comes home Monday morning, ravenous after a particularly long run, and Jensen's car isn't in the garage. He makes his own cereal, listens to it crackle in the milk, tells himself that Jensen must have worked it out, gotten his way.
****
They spend the next couple weeks missing each other. By the time Jensen gets home, Jared's usually dead to the world, dirt under his fingernails, leaves tracked all over the floor.
It's good for them, and Jared--. Somewhere, he must have lowered his guard.
It's the only explanation as to why he's standing at a nursery, studying a row of plants and calling Jensen.
Jensen picks up after the first ring, like always. "Jared?"
"Hey, are you at your computer?"
"Yeah. Why? I'm not opening any links from you."
"Relax. You act like you have virgin eyes or something."
Jensen laughs. It sounds good, and a little unfamiliar. "What do you want?"
Jared squints at the small text on the signs on the table. "I think I need glasses. Can you look up lamb's ear? And--hosta? See if there's anything about them being dangerous for dogs?"
"Jesus Christ. Are you gonna be like this until September?"
Jared straightens a little, rubs at his neck. "What?" It snaps a little more than he'd wanted.
"Nothing." Jensen sighs. "Isn't the fucking backyard done yet? It looks fine."
"Hey. What's your problem?" Jared asks, ears going warm.
"Nothing."
Line goes quiet and Jared shifts from foot to foot, cracks his knuckles rhythmically. Bites off, "Are you looking it up?"
"No, I'm jacking off to the sound of you huffing into the phone. Fucking hold on." He hears keys clacking, Jensen muttering under his breath. "Lamb's ear, right? They're both fine. Harley and Sadie're safe. Plant all the shit you want."
"Thanks." Jared bites the inside of his cheek but it doesn't help. "Woulda been nicer without the attitude."
"Fuck you. Go have fun pissing around in your garden--"
"Jensen, what the fuck--"
"Guess I'll see you in September."
Jared pauses. He knows that tone, and it's still just as put out as it used to be when Jensen was six and grounded. He can't help his amusement. "Okay. Fine. K.I.T. and shit."
"You're an ass."
"Don't ever change, okay, Jensen?"
"I'm gonna sic Harley on your precious flower beds when I get home."
"You made Social Studies so much fun. Have a great summer!"
"I'm hanging up. Take Sadie and Harley to the dog park; they're fucking insane when I get home."
Jared tries to hold his amusement back when he hears the dial tone, but he can't help himself. The air's heavy with sunlight and summersweet and his own laughter ringing in his ears.
****
Jared starts cooking before Jensen gets home. They have a well-stocked kitchen, courtesy of Jared's mom. She'd approached furnishing his then-new house with a military precision. It's kind of nice to know there's a rolling pin in the bottom cupboard next to the refrigerator if he ever needs it. Besides. Jensen had brought exactly three boxes when he'd moved in, none of them labeled kitchenware.
It comes in handy when the mood strikes Jared to actually make dinner. It's a rare occurrence and he always seems to need to use every single pot and pan in the whole damn house.
Jared almost trips over Harley when he moves a pan off the stove. "Hey now, buddy. Go play. Don't have anything for you."
Harley sits immediately at the sound of Jared's voice, eyes round. Jared chuckles, wipes his hands and walks down to the laundry room off the garage, Harley trotting at his heels. Gives him a treat from the bag hidden there, whistles for Sadie.
The door leading to the garage suddenly opens behind him. "Whoa," Jensen says, startled. He takes in the situation, sighs. "He's just gonna keep on begging if he knows it works."
"Is it that big a deal?"
Jensen shrugs. Only gets one arm out of his jacket before Sadie barrels in, making a beeline for him. Jared has just enough time to press himself back against the washer, hear Jensen go, "Oh, shit," before she's launched herself at Jensen, a dervish of paws and tongue.
Jared laughs.
"Down, Sadie!" Jensen bats her paws aside. "Jesus. Who needs doggy Ritalin, baby? Off! Sadie? Sadie, sit, girl. Sit, sweetie."
Sadie's bottom lights upon the floor gingerly, like it's made of coals or something. She's ready to pop up, tail wiggling. Jared shakes his head. "Look at that butt go. Girl knows how to work it." Harley noses at his hand. "I see you, Harley. You still like me, right, buddy? Not like Jensen's girlfriend, here."
Jensen doesn't respond, too busy talking to Sadie. He scratches her chest, one hand spread wide across her shoulders to keep her from jumping again. Thumb to pinky, fingers spanning her width.
With both dogs settled, the tightness of the space begins to set in. Jensen's bent at the waist, pressed right up against the door, and Jared's practically sitting on the washer. It smells like fabric softener, and dog food, and the dryer rumbles, warmth like fleece on his skin.
Jensen looks up, hand settling under Sadie's jaw, stroking her cheeks. "Something smells good."
"I made pork chops."
"Wow." He pauses. "Missed dinner. Kind of hungry."
Jared smiles. Harley learned to beg for food somewhere. "I made one for you."
Jensen grins, pleased. "I'll treat, next time." He turns his attention back to Sadie. "Who's hungry, girl? I am. Are you? Are you? Good girl. Wanna show Jared your new trick? Hm?" He checks to see if Jared's watching before blowing lightly at her face, and she immediately falls over onto her side.
Jensen laughs, jacket still half on, bags under his eyes and Jared thinks idly, 'Well, knock me over with a feather.'
****
Jared borrows Chad's truck to pick up some brick from a dude who posted on Craigslist. Returns it gassed up and with a couple rotisserie chickens in hand, like always.
When Jensen sees him bricklaying, he refuses to even open the sliding glass door, presses his forehead against it and groans so loud Jared can hear it from outside.
Jeff calls, a little while later. "Heard from Jensen. He was saying something about mortar, I think? It was hard to figure out what all the words between the 'fucks' and 'shits' were."
Jared rolls his eyes. "I'm just putting in some raised beds. Remember Grandma's tomatoes?" Jared licks his lips.
"Hm. You're working with brick?"
"It's easier than you'd think. Relaxing, even."
"That's real macho of you, JT."
Jared smirks. "I'm a king among men."
"Wouldn't go that far." Jeff hems, haws. "Hey, so Amy wants a patio."
Jared grins huge. Impressing Jeff's still a reliable mood lifter. It's like he's twelve. "Fly me out."
Jeff laughs. "Look at that. Putting up with your ass is finally paying off."
"Hey, tell Amy not to regret picking the wrong Padalecki brother too much."
"She's got bigger and better, JT, and no regrets about it." Jeff sounds smug and happy and Jared huffs, grins wide into the phone. "Anyway. Send me an email. Tell me when's good for you. And tell Jensen to rub one out or something, guy's all wound up."
Jared shifts, scratches an itch at his chest. "Naw. You can tell him. I've got to live with him, remember?"
Jeff grunts, starts going on about seeing Josh the other week, dishing the dirt they'd swapped about Megan and Mack. Jared only half-listens.
He kneels, eying the mason's line before starting to lay another bed of mortar. His neck aches, and his shirt sticks to his back all the way up the long hollow of it, but his hands are steady and sure. The work comes easy. He's always been more careful than people gave him credit for.
Part Two
SPN RPS: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
10,552 words.
AU Fic. Jared's known Jensen since he was born. Jensen's his best friend. They share a house. It's not uncomplicated. Thanks to
light_up, without whom this story would be nothing at all. Thanks for audiencing, encouraging and brainstorming. Two thumbs up. Would use again.
"You think two people can ever be too close?" asks Jared, sprawled back in his lawn chair.
Jensen eyes his slab of watermelon, carefully spits a few seeds onto the patio. Quiet ripens under the sun, splits at the sound of the kids next door splashing into their pool.
"You hear me?" Jared lifts his head up off the reclined back of his chair. "You think--Jesus."
He takes in the evidence of Jensen's methodical consumption of the watermelon, pointillism on flagstone.
"You couldn't grab a paper plate for that shit?"
Jensen raises an eyebrow, rind-deep in the melon.
Jared glares. "You're cleaning that up."
Jensen swallows, bobs his head, spits.
"I'm just saying. That shit better not be there when you go inside."
Jensen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slow. "Yeah." He beams, sunny. "Heard you the first time."
****
Jared's decided to landscape the backyard as his summer project. When he tells Jensen, Jensen looks up from the mail, raises his eyebrows, says, "Hm."
Jared chuckles. "Fuck you. Sing a different tune when we've got the motherfucking Garden of Eden up out back."
Jensen shrugs, unimpressed, tosses Jared the keys off the dining table. "Don't take 85, backed up as hell. 280, off at Evelyn, Home Depot's on your--"
"Thanks asshole, I know where Home Depot is."
Jensen grins. "Makin' sure, is all."
****
There are hills behind the house. In the early summer, on mornings after a night of rain, a mist drifts up from wet ground.
Jared goes running those mornings. He feels the earth give under his feet, the water bead in his hair. Hears his heartbeat and jingling tags, his dogs nothing but hazy outlines moving quickly through the fog.
When he gets home, Jensen's standing in the kitchen, bed-hair and sweats, staring at the tile as he polishes off a bowl of cereal. Another bowl on the counter and Jared smiles, puts his elbows on the counter, eats his soggy cornflakes.
The house is blue with light, and quiet, until Jared drops his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. Grins affectionately at a catatonic Jensen before saying, "Stop making me cereal in the mornings, man. It's like pudding by the time I get here."
Jensen startles, looks up and blinks. "Ate it, didn't you?"
Jared stretches. "Didn't enjoy it. Be a sweetheart and just put out the milk and the cereal, I can get 'em into the bowl myself."
"Hm." Jensen nods. "Okay." He dumps his bowl into the sink, rubs his eyes as he yawns, tired and easy. "Fuck you, too."
****
Jared's back aches, flannel clinging, a fuzzy stick to skin. He leans against the rototiller. Thing wasn't made for his height, and it's showing.
The lawn's clear, though, ready for the new sod Jared's got stacked at the back door. Harley's nosing around, curiously mouthing a clod of dirt and when Jared whistles sharply at him, he grabs it and runs. Settles a safe distance away and swallows it up easily.
Annoyance prickles at the back of his neck, at the edges of the sunburn he knows is spreading there. "Floats your boat, buddy," he says.
He hears the sliding door open and turns to see Jensen poke his head out.
"Hey. Look," Jared says proudly.
Jensen surveys the colorless yard. "Green."
"Give it time," Jared says. "By tonight, if you help me." He gestures towards the pallet of sod at Jensen's feet.
Jensen squints up at the sun. "Take a break, Jay. I'll bring you a beer."
Jared shakes his head. "I want to get this done. Won't take too long with the two of us."
"I've got a date in half an hour."
Sadie slips past Jensen's feet, nails tapping against the patio. She nudges Jared's leg, and he rests a hand on her head. "Oh." He takes in Jensen's dress shirt and slacks for the first time. "Right."
Jensen fiddles with his cuff. "Wanted to ask if you'd seen my black belt."
"Yeah, yeah." Jared keeps his eyes on Sadie. "You left it under my bed, I think."
"Okay." Jensen turns to go, then pauses, takes in the yard again. Cleared expanse ready for new growth, tidy and blank. "Must've been a bitch. I'm impressed, Jared. I'll help when I get back."
Jared laughs. "Tomorrow morning."
Jensen grins. "Save me something to do."
Jared watches him go, then kneels next to Sadie, strokes her chin. "Go get me that beer, girl," he croons.
She licks his hand, takes it gently between her teeth, soft and possessive.
****
Sunday morning burns hot, like the sun's rushing to make up for lost time.
Jared keeps the run short. Still, when they get home, Sadie and Harley are all lolling tongue, heavy panting. Jared puts down water, strides into the kitchen, sees Jensen and a girl.
Room smells of deodorant and pancakes. Jared tries to catch his breath. "Hey," he says.
Jensen grunts.
The girl flushes, cuts a glance at Jensen before smiling at Jared, extending a hand. "Hi. I'm Hannah."
"Jared," he says, taking her hand. It's small in his, the skin pale.
"Hi, Jared." She waves towards the stove. "We made pancakes."
"Great." He takes the seat across from Jensen at the table, slides Jensen's uneaten stack in front of himself.
"Oh." Hannah laughs a little. "I could get you your own plate."
"No, it's--I don't want to put you out. Just want a taste."
"It's fine, really," she says. "There are a few in the pan--"
Jensen clears his throat. "It's okay, babe. Jared can have mine. He looks hungry."
She settles a hand on the pan handle, slim fingers wrapped around it. Sun shifts and suddenly her hair's a nimbus of light, red and flyaway. She's beautiful. Jared's cock stirs in his shorts and he blushes, fills his mouth with food.
"Okay, well. I'm going to take a shower?" she says.
Jensen stands, goes to her, slips one hand under her shirt to stroke her stomach. "End of the hallway."
Jared turns away so he won't have to watch and only just keeps from clapping his hands over his ears. Soft sound of a kiss, of sped up breath, and Jared holds his fork gently, doesn't let his knuckles go white.
After she's gone, Jensen slips back into the seat across from Jared. He nods at Jared's empty plate. "How were they?"
Jared meets Jensen's eyes. A deliberate flash of dimples, and he says, "Perfect."
****
One time, their families went river-rafting together. White water, rocks, and Jensen and Jared at the prow, paddling forward and furious.
This is how they tackle the next week; they run, they drink, they work, all at a water-frothing pace. Jared's got energy to burn, and Jensen matches him stride for stride until Jared decides to stop trying to shake the guy.
So, Friday night, when Jensen asks him where he's going, Jared pauses, one foot out the door and tells him. "Ramblas."
"That tapas bar?" Jensen asks, closing his laptop from his seat at the dining table. "Hip."
Jared grins. "Not really. You been?"
Jensen shakes his head.
"It's kind of a dive, but Sandy likes it, and the drink's okay."
Jensen nods. "Sounds fun."
Jared shrugs, pulls at the bottom of his jacket.
It would be a mistake, he tells himself. Sandy'll flit around him all night, and there's this tension in Jared's shoulders that's just going to get worse. He knows better. He knows a lot better.
But Jensen's sitting there, fingers drumming restlessly against the tablecloth, and Jared says, "You should come."
Jensen's fingers go still, and he nods firmly. "I will."
****
The bar's bordering the middle of nowhere, just far enough from the city center that it's butting up on residences. Laundromat on its left, and a condo across the street. Jensen raises an eyebrow at the C+ from the Health Department displayed proudly at the window, but Jared hustles him past it.
Inside it's all patches of bulb light and shadow, dark scuffed wood under their feet. Crowded tonight, for Ramblas.
Sandy, conveniently, is leaning up against the bar, right by the door, and Jared touches his big palm to her lower back, leans in and says "Boo," into her ear.
"Jared!" She beams. "Just in time," she says, as the bartender drops off a pitcher of sangria.
Jensen comes out from behind Jared, easily lifts the tall pitcher before Sandy can get to it. "Let me get that for you."
"Oh! Jensen!" She smiles again and Jared studiously avoids her gaze. "Didn't know you were coming."
"Not a problem, I hope," Jensen says.
"Of course not!" Sandy recovers. "Thank you. If I had to carry it, half of it would end up on the floor. We're sitting over there."
Jensen peers over the crowd, sees familiar faces. "I'll go ahead?" he asks, not really a question, and forges forward, into the crowd.
As soon as he's out of hearing range, Sandy's brows rise and her mouth twists in concern. "Jared--"
He takes Sandy's elbow, rubs a thumb against the textured skin there. "It's fine. We're all here. You're here. Let's just have a good time, yeah?"
Sandy sighs. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Sandy."
He watches her force herself to stop, turn to order a couple plates of olives, some croquettes. When she's finished, she runs one hand down his shirt, fussing with the buttons. "Just. Tell me it's getting better?"
"Yeah," Jared lies. "Hand to God."
****
Jared suspects Sandy isn't as great at keeping secrets as he would've hoped. Two pitchers of sangria past, and he's starting to feel the weight of his friends' watchful eyes, their gentle steering of conversation.
He's on alert. He doesn't speak to Jensen much. He's being good. He's being really good. Didn't bother nabbing another plate of the fried potatoes, even after he noticed Jensen burn through an order.
Chad challenges him to olive eating contests, and Sandy has him making sangria runs every twenty minutes and between the two of them, Jared's dance card is full up. And, if there's the occasional lull, there's a girl in the corner, looking shy and approachable.
Jared really appreciates approachable.
He's wondering if her hair's naturally blonde when Jensen comes up next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "Just gonna stare at her all night?" he asks.
Jared takes a gulp of sangria, accidentally swallowing down a chunk of apple. He grimaces at the overripeness of it. He glances over at Jensen's empty glass. "You been eating the fruit?"
"Avoiding the subject?"
"Don't eat the fruit," Jared warns. "This sangria--they just toss in whatever shit they have lying around. 'S why it's cheaper than your ma's nightly rates."
"Hey, now. Donna Ackles is a classy lady."
Jared raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I seem to recall a night we came home early from baseball, found out why your parents really have that 'decorative'--"
"Jesus, Jared! We have a pact!" Jensen cuts in, cringing.
Jared laughs from his belly and he sees the girl look up at him from the corner of his eye. Stops abruptly, blushing.
Jensen notices, chuckles. "Fuck, Jared. Just go talk to her. She's been looking your way, too. Everyone at the damn bar has." Jensen shrugs. "It's like you're tall or something."
Thing is, Jensen's so goddamn sure he won't do it, and drunk enough to let that security show. Jared tosses back his drink, ignores the cloying sweetness of the dregs. "You really think I should?"
Jensen puts his elbows on the table, ducks his head. "If you want to, yeah." He looks up, eyes shadowed in the dim lighting. "Unless you're chickenshit. Then you can sit down, owe me a beer."
Jared tells himself not to stare. He nods his head, flags down a waitress. "Beer, for my buddy here," he says. He lets himself look at Jensen's spreading smile, then slips off his stool, heads over to the girl. Her name's Alice, and her lashes are longer than Jensen's, dark and feminine.
****
It's pointless, though, Jared thinks later that evening. As long as he's going home with Jensen at the end of the night, everything else he does--
Even the cool of the night can't cut the warmth of Jensen's hands on his shoulders as Jen guides him into bed. Jensen lingers, and Jared thinks, 'We're always drunk.'
****
Jared's on his hands and knees in the backyard when Jensen finds him the next morning.
"What're you doing?"
Jared doesn't look up, grunts in answer, chopping at the edge of the newly-laid lawn with a small hatchet.
There's a warbler chattering somewhere in the shrubs, and a car makes a screeching turn in front of their house. His ears prick, like he's Harley or something, so he doesn't have to look, doesn't have to see Jensen standing there, framed by the sliding glass door, watching him.
He works his way around the corner, following the curve where the lawn skirts one of the shrub beds and falls back onto his knees. He braces his hands on his thighs, hatchet blade carefully pointing up, and squints over at Jensen, one eye squeezed shut. "Who're you posing for over there?"
Jensen laughs. "Can't a guy stand?"
Jared grins back, blinks away sweat. "Help, asshole. You can pretend you're on the cover of Esquire on your own time."
Jensen disappears inside, then comes back in a minute, shoes in his hand. Toes 'em on as he says, "Front lawn's the one everyone's gonna see."
Jared shrugs, considers his reasons before responding carefully, "This one's for us."
Jensen doesn't reply. He sucks at his teeth as he lugs over a bag of mulch, covers the freshly-cut edges Jared's made.
Jared stands, stretches tall and to the sky. He watches Jensen's hands. They look strong, tan and capable against the dark soil. Jensen piles down the mulch efficiently with firm presses, forearms working. His shirt rides up and Jared can see the dip in his back, the freckles pooled there.
Jared presses his hands to his eyes, until the black behind his eyelids flashes shapes. He grabs the hose, moves to the opposite end of the lawn, waters in the still-fresh sod.
Jensen's voice is quiet, but it carries. Nothing but ambient noise to compete with. "Down the road, should come over and put in a lawn like this at my house. So my kids can run around."
Jared shifts on his feet, asks, "Kids?"
"I want kids." Jensen stands, dusts his hands off on his sweat pants. "And kids roughhouse. Grass is good for that."
Jared hesitates. "I want kids, too." He wishes it didn't come out defensive.
Jensen doesn't meet Jared's eyes. "Parents have been married for more than two decades. That's a feat. They deserve grandkids they can dote on." He tries to smirk. "Little Ackles babies. Don't see you getting pregnant any time soon."
Jared swallows. Sun burns his face and he wonders, idly, if they could grow aloe vera in the yard. "Just say it, Jen," he says, shrugging. "You can just say what you fucking mean."
Jensen looks up and they lock eyes, Jensen's as green as the grass in the light. "Don't tempt me, Jared," he says, so quiet it falls onto the lawn, lies still among the blades.
****
Costco's insane.
"I told you we shouldn't come here on the weekends," grumbles Jensen.
Jared ignores him, eyes the high-def TV's, row after row of crystal-clear picture. "Hey, we should--"
"No, dude."
"Come on! Tell me this wouldn't look damn good in our living room? All black and sleek."
Jensen rolls his eyes, then shrugs. "Alright, man. Let's do it."
Jared lights up. "You serious?"
"Yeah. We probably won't even care about being hungry with a TV this big in our house. And Harley and Sadie won't start trying to kill each other for food for a few months. Plenty of time to get in some quality time with our new TV. No Food Network though. That shit'll only speed the process."
Jared watches him silently for a moment, then asks, "Why such a bitch, Ackles?"
Jensen laughs, maneuvers his way toward the back of the warehouse, forcing Jared to follow. "Fuck off. Just trying to keep your ass in line. Getting paid to tolerate your presence. Might as well try to earn your dad's money."
"Been singing that tune since I was nine." Jared nods an apology to a woman he bumps up against, continues their conversation over the heads of the crowd. "Haven't seen one check pass hands yet. Don't believe you for a goddamn second."
Jensen grins over his shoulder, ducks into the dog food aisle. "Wising up, kid. Used to be I could get you to believe anything."
"Yeah," Jared says. "Used to be."
They lapse into silence as Jensen makes a pass down the aisle, eyes studiously slipping over each mountainous stack of kibble.
Jared waits at one end, smiles politely at a girl that catches his eye. She looks a little like Megan and he remembers their last phone call, her gleeful tone. Calls out to Jensen, "Hey! By the way, I'm onto you, you bastard."
Jensen looks up, startled.
"Confirmed with a reliable source that you were the ass who convinced me that all first graders wore one pieces to the pool, but only the cool ones had a little ruffle around the waist."
Jensen lets out a bark of laughter, plays dumb. "Dude, what?"
Jared's eyes narrow, and he advances on Jensen, finger in the air. "I fucking knew it didn't add up. Only damn way I'd wear that thing the whole fucking summer is if it was you that'd put me up to it."
"Aw, ain't that sweet."
Jared stops a couple feet from him, arms crossed. "Just admit it, man. Wanna hear it from the horse's mouth."
Jensen smiles huge, crow's feet so clear you can almost hear them laughing, holds up a bag of dog food. "Hey, so," he starts, bypassing Jared's accusation, "Sadie's off her feed. Think the lamb & rice'll work out better, yeah?"
"You think you can just mention my dogs and I'll drop the subject?"
Jensen eyes him, still fucking glowing with amusement.
Jared shuffles. He drops his arms reluctantly. Chews his lip before rushing out, "She's not eating?"
Jensen grins, triumphant. "I'll take care of it." He swings the bag up under his arm, toting it down the aisle, then sings out, "Don't I always?" Turns his head just enough to wink. "Kinda did look awful cute in that little tutu of a suit."
Jared shakes his head and watches Jensen wade into the crowd, fighting the smile wanting to spread to his ears. He swallows. Tells himself firmly that Jensen knows exactly what he's doing that this--. This is Jensen at his goddamned best.
****
Jared's looking at bucksaws when Jensen finds him. The oak in the backyard's held up through the spring rains, but it's been due for a pruning since Jensen moved in. They'd used his dad's old handsaw for some of the smaller branches a few months back. Still, it wasn't quite looking right and the consultant he'd called in had confirmed that two of the low hanging branches had sustained storm damage, were dead from the stem collar up.
He's studying a portable 24 inch when Jensen's voice comes from behind him. "Jared. Just call the professionals."
"And shell out cash that could be going into my big-screen fund? No way." He taps the picture on the box in front of him. "Anyway, look at this one. It's collapsible! Bad-ass."
"Sure that word applies?" Jensen sounds skeptical.
Jared finally turns to look at him, finds Jensen holding five little sample cups, crowded in his palm. "Jesus. Greedy bitch."
Jensen rolls his eyes. "They're for your pansy ass."
"Hey! You know I have a traumatic past with those sample bitches. That old lady with the fucking poodle brooch in--"
"You tell this story again, I swear to God."
Jared laughs, peers at the little paper cups. "Anything good?"
"Just take them, asshole. Fucking high maintenance prima donna--"
Jared grins, slides his hands into his pockets and hums a little as he studies the contents of the cups. "Oh," he starts hopefully, "so did you get--"
"Yeah, I snaked a few from the beef teriyaki lady. Like I could miss your fucking bloodhound act as soon as we walked in."
And Jensen's been smiling at him like this since he was in diapers, but it still makes his stomach tighten, his diaphragm take a long stretch. Jensen knows the stories behind every one of his scars, knows his favorite pie is blueberry, that he'll always pick Fox McCloud when they play Smash Bros and Jared--he feels hemmed in, all colored up, not a stray mark outside the lines. It's always gonna be like this, he thinks. There's no end in sight. "You're too nice to me."
Jensen's about to brush it off, but Jared sees his eyes narrow suddenly, can see it happen as he slows, recalculates. Every furrow in Jensen's brow disappearing and he huffs quietly. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
****
Jensen picks up a consulting job later that week.
It's the same job he'd been bitching about a few nights back. Some long-winded discourse about how they weren't paying him enough for the amount of work they were expecting. Jared's not exactly sure. He tends to tune out when Jensen talks about work. Jensen's passionate enough about management science for the both of them.
Still. He knows enough to plan for Jensen to be out of work for a little while longer, figures he can weed the side beds, trim the hedges. The fence is looking a little rickety. He'd had it all laid out.
So Jared's a little surprised when he comes home Monday morning, ravenous after a particularly long run, and Jensen's car isn't in the garage. He makes his own cereal, listens to it crackle in the milk, tells himself that Jensen must have worked it out, gotten his way.
****
They spend the next couple weeks missing each other. By the time Jensen gets home, Jared's usually dead to the world, dirt under his fingernails, leaves tracked all over the floor.
It's good for them, and Jared--. Somewhere, he must have lowered his guard.
It's the only explanation as to why he's standing at a nursery, studying a row of plants and calling Jensen.
Jensen picks up after the first ring, like always. "Jared?"
"Hey, are you at your computer?"
"Yeah. Why? I'm not opening any links from you."
"Relax. You act like you have virgin eyes or something."
Jensen laughs. It sounds good, and a little unfamiliar. "What do you want?"
Jared squints at the small text on the signs on the table. "I think I need glasses. Can you look up lamb's ear? And--hosta? See if there's anything about them being dangerous for dogs?"
"Jesus Christ. Are you gonna be like this until September?"
Jared straightens a little, rubs at his neck. "What?" It snaps a little more than he'd wanted.
"Nothing." Jensen sighs. "Isn't the fucking backyard done yet? It looks fine."
"Hey. What's your problem?" Jared asks, ears going warm.
"Nothing."
Line goes quiet and Jared shifts from foot to foot, cracks his knuckles rhythmically. Bites off, "Are you looking it up?"
"No, I'm jacking off to the sound of you huffing into the phone. Fucking hold on." He hears keys clacking, Jensen muttering under his breath. "Lamb's ear, right? They're both fine. Harley and Sadie're safe. Plant all the shit you want."
"Thanks." Jared bites the inside of his cheek but it doesn't help. "Woulda been nicer without the attitude."
"Fuck you. Go have fun pissing around in your garden--"
"Jensen, what the fuck--"
"Guess I'll see you in September."
Jared pauses. He knows that tone, and it's still just as put out as it used to be when Jensen was six and grounded. He can't help his amusement. "Okay. Fine. K.I.T. and shit."
"You're an ass."
"Don't ever change, okay, Jensen?"
"I'm gonna sic Harley on your precious flower beds when I get home."
"You made Social Studies so much fun. Have a great summer!"
"I'm hanging up. Take Sadie and Harley to the dog park; they're fucking insane when I get home."
Jared tries to hold his amusement back when he hears the dial tone, but he can't help himself. The air's heavy with sunlight and summersweet and his own laughter ringing in his ears.
****
Jared starts cooking before Jensen gets home. They have a well-stocked kitchen, courtesy of Jared's mom. She'd approached furnishing his then-new house with a military precision. It's kind of nice to know there's a rolling pin in the bottom cupboard next to the refrigerator if he ever needs it. Besides. Jensen had brought exactly three boxes when he'd moved in, none of them labeled kitchenware.
It comes in handy when the mood strikes Jared to actually make dinner. It's a rare occurrence and he always seems to need to use every single pot and pan in the whole damn house.
Jared almost trips over Harley when he moves a pan off the stove. "Hey now, buddy. Go play. Don't have anything for you."
Harley sits immediately at the sound of Jared's voice, eyes round. Jared chuckles, wipes his hands and walks down to the laundry room off the garage, Harley trotting at his heels. Gives him a treat from the bag hidden there, whistles for Sadie.
The door leading to the garage suddenly opens behind him. "Whoa," Jensen says, startled. He takes in the situation, sighs. "He's just gonna keep on begging if he knows it works."
"Is it that big a deal?"
Jensen shrugs. Only gets one arm out of his jacket before Sadie barrels in, making a beeline for him. Jared has just enough time to press himself back against the washer, hear Jensen go, "Oh, shit," before she's launched herself at Jensen, a dervish of paws and tongue.
Jared laughs.
"Down, Sadie!" Jensen bats her paws aside. "Jesus. Who needs doggy Ritalin, baby? Off! Sadie? Sadie, sit, girl. Sit, sweetie."
Sadie's bottom lights upon the floor gingerly, like it's made of coals or something. She's ready to pop up, tail wiggling. Jared shakes his head. "Look at that butt go. Girl knows how to work it." Harley noses at his hand. "I see you, Harley. You still like me, right, buddy? Not like Jensen's girlfriend, here."
Jensen doesn't respond, too busy talking to Sadie. He scratches her chest, one hand spread wide across her shoulders to keep her from jumping again. Thumb to pinky, fingers spanning her width.
With both dogs settled, the tightness of the space begins to set in. Jensen's bent at the waist, pressed right up against the door, and Jared's practically sitting on the washer. It smells like fabric softener, and dog food, and the dryer rumbles, warmth like fleece on his skin.
Jensen looks up, hand settling under Sadie's jaw, stroking her cheeks. "Something smells good."
"I made pork chops."
"Wow." He pauses. "Missed dinner. Kind of hungry."
Jared smiles. Harley learned to beg for food somewhere. "I made one for you."
Jensen grins, pleased. "I'll treat, next time." He turns his attention back to Sadie. "Who's hungry, girl? I am. Are you? Are you? Good girl. Wanna show Jared your new trick? Hm?" He checks to see if Jared's watching before blowing lightly at her face, and she immediately falls over onto her side.
Jensen laughs, jacket still half on, bags under his eyes and Jared thinks idly, 'Well, knock me over with a feather.'
****
Jared borrows Chad's truck to pick up some brick from a dude who posted on Craigslist. Returns it gassed up and with a couple rotisserie chickens in hand, like always.
When Jensen sees him bricklaying, he refuses to even open the sliding glass door, presses his forehead against it and groans so loud Jared can hear it from outside.
Jeff calls, a little while later. "Heard from Jensen. He was saying something about mortar, I think? It was hard to figure out what all the words between the 'fucks' and 'shits' were."
Jared rolls his eyes. "I'm just putting in some raised beds. Remember Grandma's tomatoes?" Jared licks his lips.
"Hm. You're working with brick?"
"It's easier than you'd think. Relaxing, even."
"That's real macho of you, JT."
Jared smirks. "I'm a king among men."
"Wouldn't go that far." Jeff hems, haws. "Hey, so Amy wants a patio."
Jared grins huge. Impressing Jeff's still a reliable mood lifter. It's like he's twelve. "Fly me out."
Jeff laughs. "Look at that. Putting up with your ass is finally paying off."
"Hey, tell Amy not to regret picking the wrong Padalecki brother too much."
"She's got bigger and better, JT, and no regrets about it." Jeff sounds smug and happy and Jared huffs, grins wide into the phone. "Anyway. Send me an email. Tell me when's good for you. And tell Jensen to rub one out or something, guy's all wound up."
Jared shifts, scratches an itch at his chest. "Naw. You can tell him. I've got to live with him, remember?"
Jeff grunts, starts going on about seeing Josh the other week, dishing the dirt they'd swapped about Megan and Mack. Jared only half-listens.
He kneels, eying the mason's line before starting to lay another bed of mortar. His neck aches, and his shirt sticks to his back all the way up the long hollow of it, but his hands are steady and sure. The work comes easy. He's always been more careful than people gave him credit for.
Part Two