Dreams Come True (1/2)
Master Post
A flash of dimples and a warm smile. Flecks of gold in green eyes, filled with love and happiness. His hands reaching out, trying to grab hold even as it begins to fade into the distance.
"Jensen! Wake up, dude. A person might think you’re not excited to see your wife for the first time in, what? Eight months?" A rough elbow in his side has Jensen sitting up straight.
"Shut up, Chris." Jensen shoves his buddy back.
"You’re probably afraid you’ll walk right by her and not recognize her."
"I’d recognize her anywhere. Now seriously man, shut up!"
Jensen opens his hand and looks at the picture of the beautiful dark haired girl he has clutched tightly in his fist. He doesn’t take his eyes off it until the plane has finally touched down and they can walk out of the terminal. Then he slides it into his shirt’s pocket and starts looking around for the real deal.
It’s not the bright and sunny LA weather Jensen was expecting. It’s raining - lightly at first, but picking up quickly until it’s pelting down and he’s soaked through to the skin in seconds. Jensen holds a hand over his eyes to shield them from the rain, trying to pick her out through the crowd of happily reuniting families. He tries to listen for his name being called amongst the happy squeals of delight or catch a whiff of her perfume over the cloying sweetness of countless celebratory bouquets of flowers being waved around, but there is nothing. Pretty soon the sidewalk is deserted, everyone bundled into waiting cars and sped away for more homecoming celebrations.
Jensen sighs and picks up his bags. It’s only a couple of blocks anyway and he’s already wet, so he might as well walk. Along the way a few cars stop, recognizing the army uniform and offer him a ride. He declines politely and keeps going, his drenched service uniform chafing the insides of his thighs as he lengthens his strides. He notices old familiar places and new shops that he doesn’t recognize and briefly toys with the idea of stopping to buy some flowers.
He feels like he’s in a daze when he finally swings open the building’s glass door and his feet are flying up the stairs, taking two at a time until he’s standing in front of their apartment’s closed door with the small brass key in his right hand.
Suddenly Jensen hears voices coming from inside and all at once his hands are shaking so badly he can barely manage to fit the key into the lock and turn it. The door swings open slowly to reveal her sitting on the couch in her underwear, a pair of scarlet red lacy panties and matching bra, the earphones of her iPod trailing from her ears and making faces at the black TV screen. She catches sight of him when he calls out her name.
"Danneel?"
"Jensen?" she asks unbelievingly as she rips the buds from her ears and twists around on the seat. The look of wonder on her face, even more beautiful than he remembered, makes him laugh out loud.
"Jensen!"
She’s up in a flash, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. Jensen lets his eyes slide shut, lets his arms fold around her slim waist and his whole body relaxes into her as he breathes in the fresh green apple scent of her shampoo.
"I was so worried when you weren’t at the airport."
"I didn’t know!"
Jensen pulls back a little so he can look at her.
"Didn’t you get my e-mails?"
"Oh, Jensen, I started reading them, but I just couldn’t bear to anymore. The despair and the killing and I … couldn’t make myself believe in this stupid war anymore."
"But I wrote you almost every day."
"I know! And I kept them."
Danneel pulls away and runs over to the little desk by the window, opening up the screen of her laptop, pointing to the folder under her inbox labeled "JENSEN". It's highlighted in bold, claiming to hold over 200 unread messages.
"See? I only cared that they kept coming, because I knew that meant that you were still alive. Still coming back to me."
Jensen keeps looking down at the computer, dumbstruck, not knowing what to say.
"That’s all that mattered to me."
Danneel is looking up at Jensen, innocent big brown eyes drinking him in and drowning him in their dark depths. The moment between them is broken when her iPod falls on the floor, dropped precariously on the couch's arm when she first saw him. She quickly bends to pick it up, shuts it off and places it safely on the coffee table.
"It’s a course I’m taking. Some acting classes."
She giggles a little nervously, takes Jensen’s hand and leads him over to the couch. She flops down next to him, not letting go of his hand.
"I talked to Mr. Kripke, made sure he kept your job. He said you could start the day you got back for all he cared. Just to make sure you wore all of your medal thingies, if you had any. No one can resist a war hero, right?"
Jensen pulls his hand from hers, turns towards her a little bit more.
"And of course, I negotiated a raise!"
She leans back, crossing her legs and looking extremely pleased with herself. Jensen gives an unbelieving bark of a laugh.
"Danneel, I don’t want to go back to selling bonds."
"You’ve got something better?" Danneel sits forward again excitedly, pushing up her breasts with her arms as she crosses her wrists on her knees. Her eyes are sparkling as she waits for Jensen to answer.
"No. I don't. But, you know, I've had time to think. While I was over there. About what's important. About what I want out of life. For me. For us. I ... I wrote you all this in the letters."
Pulling back, Danneel scrunches up her face.
"Are we back to those stupid letters again? Do you want me to read them?"
"No. I just want you to understand. What I'm feeling. What I want."
"Sweetie ..." Danneel stands and drags Jensen up along with her. Tipping her head back and letting her hair cascade down her back in rich dark waves, she reaches for his jacket, slipping it from his shoulders. "Tell me what you want."
"I thought ... some time ..."
She cuts him off, tucking his shirt out of his pants as she walks them backwards towards the bedroom.
"Time's money. I want things, Jen. My whole life, I've been without so much. I want things."
Her lips are red and glistening, inches away from his, breathing the words into his mouth.
"Don't you want ..." Her hands are working on the button of his pants now, easing down the zipper over his hardening cock. "...things?"
She gives him one last little push and they fall onto the bed. Jensen can't keep his hands off her, kissing her neck and easing the thin bra straps from her shoulders.
"And you'll tell them you were a soldier, right?"
Jensen lifts up, looking down at her with unfocused eyes.
"Them?", he asks confused.
"The people you're going to sell bonds to. Hundreds and thousands of bonds."
She tilts her hips upward, grinding against his hard on.
"Won't you?"
"Yes."
She drags him back down and finally lets him kiss her again, parts her lips to let his tongue push deep into her mouth.
She rides him, fucking him long and hard, binding him to his promise with every twist and turn of her body.
In the morning Jensen gets up, takes a shower and dresses quietly in the bathroom so he won't wake her up. He stands over her for a moment, watching her sleep as the morning sun shines down on her and she's so beautiful it takes his breath away. Jensen bends down, kisses her softly on her cheek and she moans crankily, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
He doesn't even need to repack his suitcase and Danneel had kept his briefcase beside the dresser exactly where he left it. Jensen steals an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table and locks the door behind him. Walking down the street trying to hail a taxi, he can't believe that everything he looked at just the day before with so much enthusiasm can suddenly appear so dreary and lifeless to him today.
~*~
The airport is just as hectic as it was the day before, but Jensen gets his ticket booked without too much hassle. He tries not to scowl at the young couple saying their teary goodbyes at the gate as he boards the plane. There aren't a lot of passengers on board yet; an old couple near the front and a tall young man trying to get his carry on bag into the overhead compartment. His rich burgundy shirt stretches over his bunched shoulders and threatens to pull out of his pants as he struggles to get the overstuffed bag in. Jensen can see the problem right away; the guy is too damn tall and he's pushing it in at the wrong angle.
He's blocking the walkway, so Jensen walks closer slowly, giving him a chance to get it sorted. As he finally steps up next to him, the bag slips from his hands and falls, latch opening and spilling everything out onto the floor. There are a few books, plenty of huge bags of multicoloured candy and some other small items scattered all over and Jensen bends down to help him pick up without a second thought.
"Here, let me help you with that."
He seems startled by Jensen's sudden appearance, too engrossed by his predicament to have heard Jensen's approaching footsteps.
"Sorry," he mutters and bends down too. Their heads knock together with a comical crunch and they both fall backwards rubbing at the bumps forming on their foreheads.
"Ouch!" they exclaim in unison and sitting up, they both burst out laughing as they try to get to their feet. Their mirth quickly runs out as he bends down again to pick up a photo frame of which the glass has cracked down the middle. The picture contains a younger version of the man holding it, with an older man Jensen assumes must be his father, next to him. His father has an arm slung around his shoulders and the pride and love written all over his face is plain to see.
"He's going to kill me."
"It's just glass. You can replace it. Easy."
The overhead speaker crackles to life and an overly friendly stewardess tells them to take their seats.
"That's alright. You go ahead, I'll manage."
Jensen nods and tries to squeeze past him to get to his seat. Unfortunately he steps on a bag of candy that was half hidden under the seat and slips, falling down heavily and pulling the tall man down with him. Jensen twists and lands on his back, the other man landing on his chest and forcing the air from his lungs with a loud whoosh. As Jensen tries to get his wind back, eyes tearing up as he struggles to breathe, he becomes aware of the face hovering above his, their noses almost touching. He can smell his breath, sweet and slightly minty and suddenly feels something panicky constrict across his chest.
"Sorry," the other man says again and scrambles to his feet, picking up the tickets that have scattered over the aisle before holding out a hand to help Jensen up too.
"No, it's my fault," Jensen says and lets him pull him up.
He holds Jensen's ticket out to him, but he's looking extremely pale and slightly shaky.
"Are you okay?"
He clamps a hand over his mouth, but it's too late and he lurches forward, throwing up all over Jensen's chest. Eyes wide, he looks at Jensen.
"Oh God!"
"It's ... fine. I'm a nervous flyer too." Probably all that candy, is what he thinks and with a grimace Jensen hopes seems at least a little sympathetic and kind, he shuts himself in the bathroom. After takeoff he tries to rinse as much of the vomit out of his jacket as possible in the cramped space. When he's satisfied that it's as good as he's going to get it, he rolls it into a tight ball and stuffs it into a plastic bag he got from the now slightly less friendly stewardess.
Going back to his seat he passes the young man fast asleep in his seat and with a sigh collapses down into his seat directly in front of it. He crosses his arms across his chest and resting his head back against the rest, he closes his eyes and tries to get comfortable. Before long he's fast asleep too.
There's shouting, smoke and gunfire all around him as he wearily approaches a rundown building with its doors half open. There's a faded sign above the door, barely legible, but Jensen knows what it says. Orphanage. He steps through the doorway, weapon held steady in both hands as his eyes sweep over the debris and he weaves through the rubble.
He can hear someone crying, muffled and desperate and he tries to find the person making those pitiful sounds. There ... half hidden behind a busted up dresser is a shoulder. It's shaking uncontrollably, so forlorn and desperate and Jensen can see his hand reaching to touch, to comfort it.
As he's about to touch it, it bursts into flames and throwing a protective arm up over his face ...
... he wakes up.
With a gasp Jensen lurches forward in his seat, eyes wild, but he is still safe in his seat. Almost all the seats in front of him are empty and turning around, he sees the seat behind him is as well.
He gets up and moves quickly towards the exit. His bag is the only one left circling round and round on the carousel and he has to hurry if he wants to be on time for his connecting flight.
~*~
Jensen is running, his legs pumping and the air burning in his chest, but he's still almost too late. The bus is pulling away and Jensen yells, tries to wave his hands, but he can't really lift them very high because they're weighted down with luggage. Luckily the bus driver sees him and stops, opening the door for him easily and Jensen sends up a little prayer of thanks. For the first time today something is finally going his way.
He shuffles down the narrow isle and an old lady in front pinches her nose and leans over to her companion.
"Do you smell something?"
Jensen blushes, embarrassed, and moves back a little quicker when he notices a familiar face seated almost right in the middle. As if he can feel Jensen's eyes on him, he looks up.
"Oh, my God!" he exclaims, clamping a hand over his mouth again. Jensen can't help but laugh at the look of utter mortification on his face. "I'm sorry. I still wanted to apologize, but you looked so peaceful."
"Don't worry about it. It's not a problem."
He smiles up at Jensen, flashing him with an impressive pair of dimples before ducking his head back down and going back to reading his book. Jensen takes the seat across from him, setting his stuff down on the seat closest to the window.
"Good book?" he asks.
"Nah. It's required reading. For college."
"Wow."
"Yeah. My masters degree."
"I'm impressed."
He smiles at Jensen again, pretending to coyly flutter his eyelashes.
"I'm more than just a pretty face, if that's what you were thinking."
Jensen chuckles, slightly surprised at the easy banter between them.
"What are you doing here then, instead of reading that in some campus library?"
"Going home. My family has a farm just outside of San Antonio. You?"
"Business in Dallas."
He scowls slightly at Jensen, confusion furrowing his brow.
"You could have gotten a flight to Dallas."
"I was going to, but when I got off the plane my ticket wouldn't let me anymore."
"Oh no!"
Jared lets his book fall shut on his lap, twisting to dig for his ticket stub in a small pocket of his suitcase. He scans over it quickly and looks away embarrassed as he holds it out to Jensen.
"I think this is yours."
"Yup," Jensen says after he's reached over and glanced at it with a rueful smile.
"I thought the airline had made some kind of mistake with my ticket. I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Jensen says distractedly as he glances out the window. When he looks back, he's gone back to reading so Jensen leans back and tries to get comfortable. It's going to be a long bus ride.
As Jensen starts to nod off, the bus slows and stops. He peeks out of one eye when the door opens and two scruffy looking guys get on. They amble down the aisle as the bus pulls away again, clearly looking for trouble. Jensen sits up a little straighter, pretending to stretch and watches with dismay as the bigger one of the two plops down next to his neighbor, the other taking a seat directly behind them. He hooks his scrawny arms over their seat, leaning forward into their space with an ugly leer on his rat like features.
"Is this seat taken?" The big one leans in, crowding and pushing the other man back against the window.
"How are you?" The one in the back asks and he flashes them a polite smile and tries to hold his book up as a barrier between them.
"Look, I'm Pete. This is my buddy, Paul. And you are?"
"Not interested." He snaps his book shut and turns away as much as he can in his seat and stares out the dirty window.
Jensen smiles, impressed that he put them in their place and didn't let them intimidate him.
"I had a boyfriend once who always said he wasn't interested. It was never what he meant, now was it, Paul?"
"No, it definitely was not," Paul replies, leaning forward more if that's even possible.
"No, not after he got to know me." He puts an arm around his shoulders, tries to push his face into his neck.
"Stop it!" He tries to shrug it off, but now the bastard has his other hand on his leg and Jensen can tell he's starting to panic.
"Guys." Jensen speaks up, hoping his interference will get them to back off.
Paul keeps on harassing him as Pete threateningly turns towards Jensen.
"The gentleman doesn't want to be bothered. Just let him be."
Pete opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but instead jumps up and takes a wild swing at Jensen. Jensen catches his fist in his hand, pulling Pete towards him and throwing him off balance. He brings up his own fist and grunts in satisfaction as his punch lands in Pete's kidney, doubling him over in pain. Seeing his companion go down, Paul quickly gets up too. Jensen curls a hand around his neck and as the one goes down and the other up, smashes their heads together.
He has to grab onto the back of his seat to stay upright when the bus comes to a screeching halt and before he knows what's what, the driver has thrown all four of them off the bus. Paul and Pete quickly take off on foot and trying to grab hold of all his stuff, Jensen tries to plead with the driver.
"I gotta get to Dallas, man."
"Not on my bus, you don't."
Jensen can't do anything but helplessly look on as the bus pulls away. He drops his head, shakes it a little and starts heading down the road. That's when he notices that his tall friend from the plane has dumped his suitcase and bags next to the road and is sitting down next to them right in the ground. He's dropped his face into his hands and Jensen can almost swear he hears him ... crying?
He stands, unsure, even takes another step forward, but then he turns back and walks right up to him, sets down his stuff and holds out his hand.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced."
He laughs, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes and sweeps the hair off his forehead.
"I'm Jensen. Jensen Ackles."
"Jared Padalecki."
Jared reaches out and takes Jensen's hand and gives it a good squeeze, warm and solid.
"Pada ... what?"
Jared chuckles, used to that remark by now.
"Padalecki. It's Polish. Listen ... I'm sorry about the bus."
Jensen shakes his head, waves away his apology.
"No, not your fault."
"I feel terrible. All the shit I've been causing you the whole day? You should just keep going in the opposite direction. There's no telling what could happen to you next."
"Well, there's always the possibility of hellfire raining down, I guess."
Jared smiles and Jensen makes no move to pick up his bags and move on.
"So where you headed?" he asks.
"Here."
"Here?" Jensen looks around, nothing but miles of road ahead and behind them, bordered by wheat fields stretching as far as the eye can see. "You waiting for a ride or something?"
"No, no." Jared looks up at the sky, his eyes starting to glisten again. "A miracle. He's going to kill me."
"Who?"
"My father."
"Is this still about that picture frame?" Jensen's brow furrows as he furiously tries to think how they could possibly get a replacement for the cracked glass all the way out here.
"It's not about the picture! God!"
Jared is clearly upset and working himself up into even more of a frenzy.
"Well, it's none of my business, but if you want to talk about it ..."
Jared sits silently twisting his hands in his lap, seemingly fascinated by the way his fingers curl and knot around each other. Then he takes a deep breath and takes out a folded letter from his back pocket. He holds it out to Jensen until he takes a step forward and carefully takes it. He starts reading out loud.
"I never meant to give you the wrong idea, Jared. I do feel very strongly for you, just not in the way you want ..."
He looks over at Jared, curious.
"Who's the one that gave you the wrong idea?"
"My professor." Jared looks away, ashamed. "He and I were ... We were ..." He lets out another sob and covers his face with both hands again.
"Just because you broke up ..."
Jared looks up, the pained expression still on his face.
"I was going to come out to my parents for him. I dropped out of school for him. I was going to bring him home, introduce him to my parents. I thought if they could see us together, see what a great guy he is, why I loved him ... maybe they would accept me."
Jensen stands shuffling his feet in the dust, trying to find the right words to comfort him.
"You're very upset. I can understand that. Totally. But Jared, look at the positive side here. You were ready to let your parents know who you really are. You should still do that. And they love you, they'll understand."
Before Jensen has even finished talking, Jared starts shaking his head, his hair flopping around on his head with the motion.
"I know what my father thinks of homosexuals. I grew up in that house, remember. I heard all the things he said about them, how he despises them."
"I'm sure he didn't mean it."
"He did! My dad means what he says. Always. He's ... very old-fashioned. I don't know what he'll do if I ..."
Jensen turns around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looks up into the sky, lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"Well, how about you show up with that great guy."
He looks back at Jared over his shoulder. Jared wipes his hand over his face, sniffs.
"Who does what? Stays around for the big coming out speech and then leaves?"
"Sure. He meets the family, faces the wrath. Stays one night then leaves a note saying ..."
"... it's all just too much." Jared finishes.
"Happens." Jensen shrugs, looks guilty almost like he's the bastard that's already abandoned Jared.
Jared stands up, picks up his suitcases.
"You're very kind for trying to help me. Maybe it might even work, but ... there's nobody I could ask to do this."
He starts walking away, his footsteps heavy, but sure, his back straight.
"Jared!" Jensen calls out. When Jared looks at him, he spreads his arms wide. "There's me."
He's smiling at Jared, open and honest and Jared can't help but smile back.
~*~
Walking down the lane side by side, they chat easily, getting to know little bits about each other. Jensen doesn't really want to think about it, but something about Jared sets him at ease and he finds himself telling him that he was in Iraq. Jared doesn't push at first, but Jensen can sense that he's burning to ask Jensen more. Jensen tries to tell him more, but he can't make the words come out. Jared must see him opening and closing his mouth out of the corner of his eye, because eventually he tentatively speaks.
"Was it horrible? The fighting?"
"Once the shooting starts, you tend to go blank," Jensen answers. "The trick was to get your mind off it, try to think about something else."
"And what did you think about?"
"I wrote letters to my wife. In my head. And then later ... I would type them out as e-mails."
"Did you write to her about what it was like?"
"No, not really. More about what I'd like life to be like after I got home. You know. The perfect little house, maybe some kids running around in the yard. Definitely a dog or two. A job I didn't hate too much."
"She must have loved it."
Jensen huffs out a short bark of a laugh. "Yeah, sure."
A comfortable silence falls between them until Jared speaks again.
"You really are very kind to do this for me."
"It's ... not a problem. Anytime."
Jared looks at him sideways, catches his eye.
"You're welcome," Jensen replies earnestly, even though honestly he has no idea why he would ever offer to do this. Pretend to be some strange dude's boyfriend so he could come out to his parents? He had a job to do and a wife to get back to. But it had just come to him, that it was the right thing to do and he wouldn't turn back now.
Suddenly Jared stops and looks to the side. There, at the end of a narrow dirt road, bordered by rolling wheat fields, stands an old farmhouse with white-washed walls and a dull red roof. There are some chickens pecking around in the dirt and a rusty pickup parked in the sun.
"We call it Sen. It means, The Dream."
Jensen can't tear his eyes away, stares in wonder.
"It's beautiful."
Jared twists his eyes away and Jensen can hear a profound sadness in his voice when he says, "Yeah."
Jensen sits his bags down for a moment before they step down the lane.
"Guess I better take this off." Jensen tugs at his wedding ring and it slides off easily. He holds it in the palm of hand, feeling the heavy weight of it warm against his skin before he tucks it into his jacket's inner pocket. He wonders if it should have been harder to do, but he guiltily banishes the thought before he can answer it. Jared looks down at his feet, like he's giving Jensen some privacy, but it's obvious to Jensen that's he's avoiding looking ahead to the house.
"It'll be alright."
Jared gives him a sad smile and they share one last look before Jensen tilts his chin up with a sigh and drops his hands to wrap around the handles of the bags at his feet. Suddenly a gunshot rings out and Jensen can swear he feels the air swish against his cheek as the bullet flies over their heads. Jared grabs his arm and pulls them down into the cover of the wheat stalks next to the road. Jensen lands half on top of Jared and stretches his arms wide to shield even more of Jared as a shadow falls over them and stares in terror at the dirty pair of boots that appear in front of his eyes.
"We're unarmed!" he yells, holding up his hands. When there's no immediate reaction to his words, he jumps up, dragging Jared up with him, but staying in front of him. "Don't shoot!"
Jensen eyes the big, tall man in front of them, the strength of the forearms peeking out from beneath the rolled up sleeves of a faded blue work shirt and the shotgun held firmly in two massive hands. Stepping out from behind him, Jared flicks the hair back from his face and looks the stranger in the eye. "Hey, Dad."
"Jared?"
Jared's dad doesn't lower the gun or stop scowling, his eyebrows drawing together until they are almost a solid line over his piercing blue eyes.
"Who's this?"
"Jensen Ackles," Jensen says, holding out a hand in greeting.
He ignores it, his attention still fixed solely on Jared, waiting for an answer. Jared can't look him in the eye, looks at the sky, the ground, the fields surrounding them. The silence stretches, grows, crackles with tension until Jensen half expects it to explode in a bright flash of thunder and lightning around them. When Jared finally gathers the courage to answer, he breathes the words softly under his breath, barely audible.
"My boyfriend."
Part Two
A flash of dimples and a warm smile. Flecks of gold in green eyes, filled with love and happiness. His hands reaching out, trying to grab hold even as it begins to fade into the distance.
"Jensen! Wake up, dude. A person might think you’re not excited to see your wife for the first time in, what? Eight months?" A rough elbow in his side has Jensen sitting up straight.
"Shut up, Chris." Jensen shoves his buddy back.
"You’re probably afraid you’ll walk right by her and not recognize her."
"I’d recognize her anywhere. Now seriously man, shut up!"
Jensen opens his hand and looks at the picture of the beautiful dark haired girl he has clutched tightly in his fist. He doesn’t take his eyes off it until the plane has finally touched down and they can walk out of the terminal. Then he slides it into his shirt’s pocket and starts looking around for the real deal.
It’s not the bright and sunny LA weather Jensen was expecting. It’s raining - lightly at first, but picking up quickly until it’s pelting down and he’s soaked through to the skin in seconds. Jensen holds a hand over his eyes to shield them from the rain, trying to pick her out through the crowd of happily reuniting families. He tries to listen for his name being called amongst the happy squeals of delight or catch a whiff of her perfume over the cloying sweetness of countless celebratory bouquets of flowers being waved around, but there is nothing. Pretty soon the sidewalk is deserted, everyone bundled into waiting cars and sped away for more homecoming celebrations.
Jensen sighs and picks up his bags. It’s only a couple of blocks anyway and he’s already wet, so he might as well walk. Along the way a few cars stop, recognizing the army uniform and offer him a ride. He declines politely and keeps going, his drenched service uniform chafing the insides of his thighs as he lengthens his strides. He notices old familiar places and new shops that he doesn’t recognize and briefly toys with the idea of stopping to buy some flowers.
He feels like he’s in a daze when he finally swings open the building’s glass door and his feet are flying up the stairs, taking two at a time until he’s standing in front of their apartment’s closed door with the small brass key in his right hand.
Suddenly Jensen hears voices coming from inside and all at once his hands are shaking so badly he can barely manage to fit the key into the lock and turn it. The door swings open slowly to reveal her sitting on the couch in her underwear, a pair of scarlet red lacy panties and matching bra, the earphones of her iPod trailing from her ears and making faces at the black TV screen. She catches sight of him when he calls out her name.
"Danneel?"
"Jensen?" she asks unbelievingly as she rips the buds from her ears and twists around on the seat. The look of wonder on her face, even more beautiful than he remembered, makes him laugh out loud.
"Jensen!"
She’s up in a flash, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. Jensen lets his eyes slide shut, lets his arms fold around her slim waist and his whole body relaxes into her as he breathes in the fresh green apple scent of her shampoo.
"I was so worried when you weren’t at the airport."
"I didn’t know!"
Jensen pulls back a little so he can look at her.
"Didn’t you get my e-mails?"
"Oh, Jensen, I started reading them, but I just couldn’t bear to anymore. The despair and the killing and I … couldn’t make myself believe in this stupid war anymore."
"But I wrote you almost every day."
"I know! And I kept them."
Danneel pulls away and runs over to the little desk by the window, opening up the screen of her laptop, pointing to the folder under her inbox labeled "JENSEN". It's highlighted in bold, claiming to hold over 200 unread messages.
"See? I only cared that they kept coming, because I knew that meant that you were still alive. Still coming back to me."
Jensen keeps looking down at the computer, dumbstruck, not knowing what to say.
"That’s all that mattered to me."
Danneel is looking up at Jensen, innocent big brown eyes drinking him in and drowning him in their dark depths. The moment between them is broken when her iPod falls on the floor, dropped precariously on the couch's arm when she first saw him. She quickly bends to pick it up, shuts it off and places it safely on the coffee table.
"It’s a course I’m taking. Some acting classes."
She giggles a little nervously, takes Jensen’s hand and leads him over to the couch. She flops down next to him, not letting go of his hand.
"I talked to Mr. Kripke, made sure he kept your job. He said you could start the day you got back for all he cared. Just to make sure you wore all of your medal thingies, if you had any. No one can resist a war hero, right?"
Jensen pulls his hand from hers, turns towards her a little bit more.
"And of course, I negotiated a raise!"
She leans back, crossing her legs and looking extremely pleased with herself. Jensen gives an unbelieving bark of a laugh.
"Danneel, I don’t want to go back to selling bonds."
"You’ve got something better?" Danneel sits forward again excitedly, pushing up her breasts with her arms as she crosses her wrists on her knees. Her eyes are sparkling as she waits for Jensen to answer.
"No. I don't. But, you know, I've had time to think. While I was over there. About what's important. About what I want out of life. For me. For us. I ... I wrote you all this in the letters."
Pulling back, Danneel scrunches up her face.
"Are we back to those stupid letters again? Do you want me to read them?"
"No. I just want you to understand. What I'm feeling. What I want."
"Sweetie ..." Danneel stands and drags Jensen up along with her. Tipping her head back and letting her hair cascade down her back in rich dark waves, she reaches for his jacket, slipping it from his shoulders. "Tell me what you want."
"I thought ... some time ..."
She cuts him off, tucking his shirt out of his pants as she walks them backwards towards the bedroom.
"Time's money. I want things, Jen. My whole life, I've been without so much. I want things."
Her lips are red and glistening, inches away from his, breathing the words into his mouth.
"Don't you want ..." Her hands are working on the button of his pants now, easing down the zipper over his hardening cock. "...things?"
She gives him one last little push and they fall onto the bed. Jensen can't keep his hands off her, kissing her neck and easing the thin bra straps from her shoulders.
"And you'll tell them you were a soldier, right?"
Jensen lifts up, looking down at her with unfocused eyes.
"Them?", he asks confused.
"The people you're going to sell bonds to. Hundreds and thousands of bonds."
She tilts her hips upward, grinding against his hard on.
"Won't you?"
"Yes."
She drags him back down and finally lets him kiss her again, parts her lips to let his tongue push deep into her mouth.
She rides him, fucking him long and hard, binding him to his promise with every twist and turn of her body.
In the morning Jensen gets up, takes a shower and dresses quietly in the bathroom so he won't wake her up. He stands over her for a moment, watching her sleep as the morning sun shines down on her and she's so beautiful it takes his breath away. Jensen bends down, kisses her softly on her cheek and she moans crankily, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
He doesn't even need to repack his suitcase and Danneel had kept his briefcase beside the dresser exactly where he left it. Jensen steals an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table and locks the door behind him. Walking down the street trying to hail a taxi, he can't believe that everything he looked at just the day before with so much enthusiasm can suddenly appear so dreary and lifeless to him today.
~*~
The airport is just as hectic as it was the day before, but Jensen gets his ticket booked without too much hassle. He tries not to scowl at the young couple saying their teary goodbyes at the gate as he boards the plane. There aren't a lot of passengers on board yet; an old couple near the front and a tall young man trying to get his carry on bag into the overhead compartment. His rich burgundy shirt stretches over his bunched shoulders and threatens to pull out of his pants as he struggles to get the overstuffed bag in. Jensen can see the problem right away; the guy is too damn tall and he's pushing it in at the wrong angle.
He's blocking the walkway, so Jensen walks closer slowly, giving him a chance to get it sorted. As he finally steps up next to him, the bag slips from his hands and falls, latch opening and spilling everything out onto the floor. There are a few books, plenty of huge bags of multicoloured candy and some other small items scattered all over and Jensen bends down to help him pick up without a second thought.
"Here, let me help you with that."
He seems startled by Jensen's sudden appearance, too engrossed by his predicament to have heard Jensen's approaching footsteps.
"Sorry," he mutters and bends down too. Their heads knock together with a comical crunch and they both fall backwards rubbing at the bumps forming on their foreheads.
"Ouch!" they exclaim in unison and sitting up, they both burst out laughing as they try to get to their feet. Their mirth quickly runs out as he bends down again to pick up a photo frame of which the glass has cracked down the middle. The picture contains a younger version of the man holding it, with an older man Jensen assumes must be his father, next to him. His father has an arm slung around his shoulders and the pride and love written all over his face is plain to see.
"He's going to kill me."
"It's just glass. You can replace it. Easy."
The overhead speaker crackles to life and an overly friendly stewardess tells them to take their seats.
"That's alright. You go ahead, I'll manage."
Jensen nods and tries to squeeze past him to get to his seat. Unfortunately he steps on a bag of candy that was half hidden under the seat and slips, falling down heavily and pulling the tall man down with him. Jensen twists and lands on his back, the other man landing on his chest and forcing the air from his lungs with a loud whoosh. As Jensen tries to get his wind back, eyes tearing up as he struggles to breathe, he becomes aware of the face hovering above his, their noses almost touching. He can smell his breath, sweet and slightly minty and suddenly feels something panicky constrict across his chest.
"Sorry," the other man says again and scrambles to his feet, picking up the tickets that have scattered over the aisle before holding out a hand to help Jensen up too.
"No, it's my fault," Jensen says and lets him pull him up.
He holds Jensen's ticket out to him, but he's looking extremely pale and slightly shaky.
"Are you okay?"
He clamps a hand over his mouth, but it's too late and he lurches forward, throwing up all over Jensen's chest. Eyes wide, he looks at Jensen.
"Oh God!"
"It's ... fine. I'm a nervous flyer too." Probably all that candy, is what he thinks and with a grimace Jensen hopes seems at least a little sympathetic and kind, he shuts himself in the bathroom. After takeoff he tries to rinse as much of the vomit out of his jacket as possible in the cramped space. When he's satisfied that it's as good as he's going to get it, he rolls it into a tight ball and stuffs it into a plastic bag he got from the now slightly less friendly stewardess.
Going back to his seat he passes the young man fast asleep in his seat and with a sigh collapses down into his seat directly in front of it. He crosses his arms across his chest and resting his head back against the rest, he closes his eyes and tries to get comfortable. Before long he's fast asleep too.
There's shouting, smoke and gunfire all around him as he wearily approaches a rundown building with its doors half open. There's a faded sign above the door, barely legible, but Jensen knows what it says. Orphanage. He steps through the doorway, weapon held steady in both hands as his eyes sweep over the debris and he weaves through the rubble.
He can hear someone crying, muffled and desperate and he tries to find the person making those pitiful sounds. There ... half hidden behind a busted up dresser is a shoulder. It's shaking uncontrollably, so forlorn and desperate and Jensen can see his hand reaching to touch, to comfort it.
As he's about to touch it, it bursts into flames and throwing a protective arm up over his face ...
... he wakes up.
With a gasp Jensen lurches forward in his seat, eyes wild, but he is still safe in his seat. Almost all the seats in front of him are empty and turning around, he sees the seat behind him is as well.
He gets up and moves quickly towards the exit. His bag is the only one left circling round and round on the carousel and he has to hurry if he wants to be on time for his connecting flight.
~*~
Jensen is running, his legs pumping and the air burning in his chest, but he's still almost too late. The bus is pulling away and Jensen yells, tries to wave his hands, but he can't really lift them very high because they're weighted down with luggage. Luckily the bus driver sees him and stops, opening the door for him easily and Jensen sends up a little prayer of thanks. For the first time today something is finally going his way.
He shuffles down the narrow isle and an old lady in front pinches her nose and leans over to her companion.
"Do you smell something?"
Jensen blushes, embarrassed, and moves back a little quicker when he notices a familiar face seated almost right in the middle. As if he can feel Jensen's eyes on him, he looks up.
"Oh, my God!" he exclaims, clamping a hand over his mouth again. Jensen can't help but laugh at the look of utter mortification on his face. "I'm sorry. I still wanted to apologize, but you looked so peaceful."
"Don't worry about it. It's not a problem."
He smiles up at Jensen, flashing him with an impressive pair of dimples before ducking his head back down and going back to reading his book. Jensen takes the seat across from him, setting his stuff down on the seat closest to the window.
"Good book?" he asks.
"Nah. It's required reading. For college."
"Wow."
"Yeah. My masters degree."
"I'm impressed."
He smiles at Jensen again, pretending to coyly flutter his eyelashes.
"I'm more than just a pretty face, if that's what you were thinking."
Jensen chuckles, slightly surprised at the easy banter between them.
"What are you doing here then, instead of reading that in some campus library?"
"Going home. My family has a farm just outside of San Antonio. You?"
"Business in Dallas."
He scowls slightly at Jensen, confusion furrowing his brow.
"You could have gotten a flight to Dallas."
"I was going to, but when I got off the plane my ticket wouldn't let me anymore."
"Oh no!"
Jared lets his book fall shut on his lap, twisting to dig for his ticket stub in a small pocket of his suitcase. He scans over it quickly and looks away embarrassed as he holds it out to Jensen.
"I think this is yours."
"Yup," Jensen says after he's reached over and glanced at it with a rueful smile.
"I thought the airline had made some kind of mistake with my ticket. I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Jensen says distractedly as he glances out the window. When he looks back, he's gone back to reading so Jensen leans back and tries to get comfortable. It's going to be a long bus ride.
As Jensen starts to nod off, the bus slows and stops. He peeks out of one eye when the door opens and two scruffy looking guys get on. They amble down the aisle as the bus pulls away again, clearly looking for trouble. Jensen sits up a little straighter, pretending to stretch and watches with dismay as the bigger one of the two plops down next to his neighbor, the other taking a seat directly behind them. He hooks his scrawny arms over their seat, leaning forward into their space with an ugly leer on his rat like features.
"Is this seat taken?" The big one leans in, crowding and pushing the other man back against the window.
"How are you?" The one in the back asks and he flashes them a polite smile and tries to hold his book up as a barrier between them.
"Look, I'm Pete. This is my buddy, Paul. And you are?"
"Not interested." He snaps his book shut and turns away as much as he can in his seat and stares out the dirty window.
Jensen smiles, impressed that he put them in their place and didn't let them intimidate him.
"I had a boyfriend once who always said he wasn't interested. It was never what he meant, now was it, Paul?"
"No, it definitely was not," Paul replies, leaning forward more if that's even possible.
"No, not after he got to know me." He puts an arm around his shoulders, tries to push his face into his neck.
"Stop it!" He tries to shrug it off, but now the bastard has his other hand on his leg and Jensen can tell he's starting to panic.
"Guys." Jensen speaks up, hoping his interference will get them to back off.
Paul keeps on harassing him as Pete threateningly turns towards Jensen.
"The gentleman doesn't want to be bothered. Just let him be."
Pete opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but instead jumps up and takes a wild swing at Jensen. Jensen catches his fist in his hand, pulling Pete towards him and throwing him off balance. He brings up his own fist and grunts in satisfaction as his punch lands in Pete's kidney, doubling him over in pain. Seeing his companion go down, Paul quickly gets up too. Jensen curls a hand around his neck and as the one goes down and the other up, smashes their heads together.
He has to grab onto the back of his seat to stay upright when the bus comes to a screeching halt and before he knows what's what, the driver has thrown all four of them off the bus. Paul and Pete quickly take off on foot and trying to grab hold of all his stuff, Jensen tries to plead with the driver.
"I gotta get to Dallas, man."
"Not on my bus, you don't."
Jensen can't do anything but helplessly look on as the bus pulls away. He drops his head, shakes it a little and starts heading down the road. That's when he notices that his tall friend from the plane has dumped his suitcase and bags next to the road and is sitting down next to them right in the ground. He's dropped his face into his hands and Jensen can almost swear he hears him ... crying?
He stands, unsure, even takes another step forward, but then he turns back and walks right up to him, sets down his stuff and holds out his hand.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced."
He laughs, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes and sweeps the hair off his forehead.
"I'm Jensen. Jensen Ackles."
"Jared Padalecki."
Jared reaches out and takes Jensen's hand and gives it a good squeeze, warm and solid.
"Pada ... what?"
Jared chuckles, used to that remark by now.
"Padalecki. It's Polish. Listen ... I'm sorry about the bus."
Jensen shakes his head, waves away his apology.
"No, not your fault."
"I feel terrible. All the shit I've been causing you the whole day? You should just keep going in the opposite direction. There's no telling what could happen to you next."
"Well, there's always the possibility of hellfire raining down, I guess."
Jared smiles and Jensen makes no move to pick up his bags and move on.
"So where you headed?" he asks.
"Here."
"Here?" Jensen looks around, nothing but miles of road ahead and behind them, bordered by wheat fields stretching as far as the eye can see. "You waiting for a ride or something?"
"No, no." Jared looks up at the sky, his eyes starting to glisten again. "A miracle. He's going to kill me."
"Who?"
"My father."
"Is this still about that picture frame?" Jensen's brow furrows as he furiously tries to think how they could possibly get a replacement for the cracked glass all the way out here.
"It's not about the picture! God!"
Jared is clearly upset and working himself up into even more of a frenzy.
"Well, it's none of my business, but if you want to talk about it ..."
Jared sits silently twisting his hands in his lap, seemingly fascinated by the way his fingers curl and knot around each other. Then he takes a deep breath and takes out a folded letter from his back pocket. He holds it out to Jensen until he takes a step forward and carefully takes it. He starts reading out loud.
"I never meant to give you the wrong idea, Jared. I do feel very strongly for you, just not in the way you want ..."
He looks over at Jared, curious.
"Who's the one that gave you the wrong idea?"
"My professor." Jared looks away, ashamed. "He and I were ... We were ..." He lets out another sob and covers his face with both hands again.
"Just because you broke up ..."
Jared looks up, the pained expression still on his face.
"I was going to come out to my parents for him. I dropped out of school for him. I was going to bring him home, introduce him to my parents. I thought if they could see us together, see what a great guy he is, why I loved him ... maybe they would accept me."
Jensen stands shuffling his feet in the dust, trying to find the right words to comfort him.
"You're very upset. I can understand that. Totally. But Jared, look at the positive side here. You were ready to let your parents know who you really are. You should still do that. And they love you, they'll understand."
Before Jensen has even finished talking, Jared starts shaking his head, his hair flopping around on his head with the motion.
"I know what my father thinks of homosexuals. I grew up in that house, remember. I heard all the things he said about them, how he despises them."
"I'm sure he didn't mean it."
"He did! My dad means what he says. Always. He's ... very old-fashioned. I don't know what he'll do if I ..."
Jensen turns around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looks up into the sky, lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"Well, how about you show up with that great guy."
He looks back at Jared over his shoulder. Jared wipes his hand over his face, sniffs.
"Who does what? Stays around for the big coming out speech and then leaves?"
"Sure. He meets the family, faces the wrath. Stays one night then leaves a note saying ..."
"... it's all just too much." Jared finishes.
"Happens." Jensen shrugs, looks guilty almost like he's the bastard that's already abandoned Jared.
Jared stands up, picks up his suitcases.
"You're very kind for trying to help me. Maybe it might even work, but ... there's nobody I could ask to do this."
He starts walking away, his footsteps heavy, but sure, his back straight.
"Jared!" Jensen calls out. When Jared looks at him, he spreads his arms wide. "There's me."
He's smiling at Jared, open and honest and Jared can't help but smile back.
~*~
Walking down the lane side by side, they chat easily, getting to know little bits about each other. Jensen doesn't really want to think about it, but something about Jared sets him at ease and he finds himself telling him that he was in Iraq. Jared doesn't push at first, but Jensen can sense that he's burning to ask Jensen more. Jensen tries to tell him more, but he can't make the words come out. Jared must see him opening and closing his mouth out of the corner of his eye, because eventually he tentatively speaks.
"Was it horrible? The fighting?"
"Once the shooting starts, you tend to go blank," Jensen answers. "The trick was to get your mind off it, try to think about something else."
"And what did you think about?"
"I wrote letters to my wife. In my head. And then later ... I would type them out as e-mails."
"Did you write to her about what it was like?"
"No, not really. More about what I'd like life to be like after I got home. You know. The perfect little house, maybe some kids running around in the yard. Definitely a dog or two. A job I didn't hate too much."
"She must have loved it."
Jensen huffs out a short bark of a laugh. "Yeah, sure."
A comfortable silence falls between them until Jared speaks again.
"You really are very kind to do this for me."
"It's ... not a problem. Anytime."
Jared looks at him sideways, catches his eye.
"You're welcome," Jensen replies earnestly, even though honestly he has no idea why he would ever offer to do this. Pretend to be some strange dude's boyfriend so he could come out to his parents? He had a job to do and a wife to get back to. But it had just come to him, that it was the right thing to do and he wouldn't turn back now.
Suddenly Jared stops and looks to the side. There, at the end of a narrow dirt road, bordered by rolling wheat fields, stands an old farmhouse with white-washed walls and a dull red roof. There are some chickens pecking around in the dirt and a rusty pickup parked in the sun.
"We call it Sen. It means, The Dream."
Jensen can't tear his eyes away, stares in wonder.
"It's beautiful."
Jared twists his eyes away and Jensen can hear a profound sadness in his voice when he says, "Yeah."
Jensen sits his bags down for a moment before they step down the lane.
"Guess I better take this off." Jensen tugs at his wedding ring and it slides off easily. He holds it in the palm of hand, feeling the heavy weight of it warm against his skin before he tucks it into his jacket's inner pocket. He wonders if it should have been harder to do, but he guiltily banishes the thought before he can answer it. Jared looks down at his feet, like he's giving Jensen some privacy, but it's obvious to Jensen that's he's avoiding looking ahead to the house.
"It'll be alright."
Jared gives him a sad smile and they share one last look before Jensen tilts his chin up with a sigh and drops his hands to wrap around the handles of the bags at his feet. Suddenly a gunshot rings out and Jensen can swear he feels the air swish against his cheek as the bullet flies over their heads. Jared grabs his arm and pulls them down into the cover of the wheat stalks next to the road. Jensen lands half on top of Jared and stretches his arms wide to shield even more of Jared as a shadow falls over them and stares in terror at the dirty pair of boots that appear in front of his eyes.
"We're unarmed!" he yells, holding up his hands. When there's no immediate reaction to his words, he jumps up, dragging Jared up with him, but staying in front of him. "Don't shoot!"
Jensen eyes the big, tall man in front of them, the strength of the forearms peeking out from beneath the rolled up sleeves of a faded blue work shirt and the shotgun held firmly in two massive hands. Stepping out from behind him, Jared flicks the hair back from his face and looks the stranger in the eye. "Hey, Dad."
"Jared?"
Jared's dad doesn't lower the gun or stop scowling, his eyebrows drawing together until they are almost a solid line over his piercing blue eyes.
"Who's this?"
"Jensen Ackles," Jensen says, holding out a hand in greeting.
He ignores it, his attention still fixed solely on Jared, waiting for an answer. Jared can't look him in the eye, looks at the sky, the ground, the fields surrounding them. The silence stretches, grows, crackles with tension until Jensen half expects it to explode in a bright flash of thunder and lightning around them. When Jared finally gathers the courage to answer, he breathes the words softly under his breath, barely audible.
"My boyfriend."
Part Two