Get No Harder [part two]
part two.
Jensen tries not to slam the Chevy's door when he pulls up in front of the Claridge's. It's not too late, there's a flickering blue glow under the living room curtains, but the street's quiet as the weekend winds down.
Upstairs, he strips out of his t-shirt and jeans, meets his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. Streaked cleaner residue mars his reflection but it's clear enough for Jensen to find the prominent scars, the ones he was left with on the day he decided to give his life another chance instead of just dying a little more every day.
Other scars are harder to find, wrapping around Jensen's body in fine white lines and pink discolorations. Raised patterns floating like islands on his skin, telling a story. They've always been a way for people to catalog Jensen's abuses, but he barely remembers where the majority came from.
Just like the Chevy, Jensen's in bad shape only no one laughs at his imperfections. The truck's faults hadn't bothered Jared; he wasn't afraid of having his hands full with something others deemed beyond repair.
And like the old, green rust-bucket, Jensen had been written off by everyone until the Padaleckis took him in.
Lying in bed, there's nothing to hear beyond the high harmony of crickets and his own heartbeat. Jensen chooses not to think about tonight. The kiss could have meant anything. Could have meant nothing, too. Jared's in the habit of leaving him with few answers and too many questions.
For once, Jensen gets the urge to be patient because, for once, he imagines sticking around long enough for it to pay off.
~~~
Jensen drives into the north fields as the clouds bulge and thicken high above. Kneading the earth, they push the August humidity across the plains, sticky and uncomfortable air rolling out into the morning. Late summer heat in the Midwest is unforgiving.
His hands are sweaty inside his leather gloves, palms damp. Wiping 'em off doesn't help. Five minutes later, they're clammy again. His t-shirt ends up in his back pocket-not enough sun to burn more freckles onto his shoulders-leaving a white tank. The hat Jared gave him is marginally useful, catching some sweat before it rolls down his face.
Two hours into the day, Jensen needs a break. He's crouched down in the dim shadow of the Chevy when Jared walks onto the scene, kicking up dirt with his boots.
Neither of them talk. Water relieves the desperate ache in Jensen's throat, taking huge swallows. He puts up with Jared's stare until his break's gone on too long and work's calling.
"You're crazy to be out here today," Jared says, trailing Jensen back to the equipment.
"Does that mean you're not helping?"
Jared spreads his arms for Jensen to look. He's dressed for work. Rumpled, like he's five minutes away from going back to bed, but ready.
"Just tell me what we're doing."
After three more hours, Jared's collapsed next to the truck, arm flung melodramatically across his forehead. The most ridiculous damsel Jensen's ever known.
"No more," he's whining. "You're fucking insane."
"I've gotta get this-"
"We're gonna die if we stay out here," Jared interrupts. He pulls his t-shirt up to uselessly wipe sweat from his temples. Abs, lean and bunched, catch Jensen's eye for only a moment-the heat won't allow him a pleasant distraction.
The clouds had moved away mid-morning, leaving only muggy sunlight. Waves of diffracted light at the edges of Jensen's vision.
"Let's at least go back and eat." Jared's already made up his mind, standing and replacing Jensen's tools in the truck. And since Jensen barely has the energy to drag himself into the cab, let alone argue, he goes, stomach already rumbling.
It really is too damn hot.
~~~
"You always get what you want."
Jared laughs. "Is that a question?" A messy bite of his second sandwich leaves a glob of chicken salad at the corner of his mouth. Jensen watches as Jared pushes it past his lips with a finger, licking off mayonnaise.
They hadn't gone back into the fields. Jared pointed out repairs that could be done in the maintenance shed and Jensen went along. No telling Jared not to be smug as they sat with lunch under the shed's industrial-strength air fans-he ate the victory like cake.
"You know my dad," Jared says, "and you think that's true?"
Jensen says nothing. He's reduced one of the broken chainsaws to base components, trying to find the problem. Machines have always been easier to diagnose than people.
Jared never seems to mind one-sided conversations, the kind Jensen's best at.
"So maybe I do, except for my dad. And you-you wouldn't give me water if I was on fire." He pops the last of his chicken salad in his mouth and steps up to Jensen's work bench. A small smile is shared. "I guess that's easier for my mom, and Kent never cares enough to say no, you know what I mean? He probably thinks it would piss my mom off more if I didn't get my way."
Their hands coordinate, cataloging pieces of the chainsaw, roar of the fans acting as a blanket of sound when Jared goes quiet. If Jared's thinking about last night, Jensen can't see it. They touch coincidentally as they work and pass the afternoon with little more to say.
Jensen wouldn't know where to begin.
When the first chainsaw's fixed, Jared calls it quittin' time.
"My dad's cooking a tenderloin," he says, arching his back into a deep stretch. "Feel like staying?"
The yes comes immediately to Jensen's tongue but he stays the word. He's spent all afternoon looking for an opening in Jared's expression, a way through to the meaning of last night, but he hasn't gotten one.
"Or some other time." Jared leaves him an out; Jensen takes it.
Jensen says, "Some other time," but makes sure he's smiling.
~~~
"Where'd you learn to do all this?"
Jensen's in the middle of fixing a shredder Gerry needs working by early afternoon. The second chainsaw is waiting its turn on the workbench Jared's propped against.
"Started picking up odd jobs when I was pretty young," Jensen says, biting his lower lip as he cranks a fresh bolt into place. "I got cash under the table before I was technically old enough to work."
"Did you like it?"
"Not all the time." Those memories are harmless, dull edges that don't dig as deeply as they once had. "But a few bucks was better than staying home."
"Really?"
Checking that the rest of his bolts are tight, Jensen jerks his head in a nod. "It was never really quiet. My mom had boyfriends coming through all the time so it was better to stay away."
Jared pretends to be fascinated by an orange-handled Philips-head.
"Were you-I mean, at home, did those guys ever..."
Jensen can't blame him for not finishing. When people know how Jensen's lived his life, they can't help assuming the worst about his childhood, looking for a reason.
"No." He takes a casual tone so Jared won't feel bad. "My mom just had a knack for picking assholes to bring home."
Asshole is a nicer word than any of his mom's tricks, pimps, and boyfriends deserve. They weren't pervs, not for anything Jensen could give them, but none of them liked having a curious kid around much. Jensen got in the way; he needed food, attention, and care. The first could be bought with whatever money his mom got from flat-backing it, but the rest was more than she could handle. She'd never hit him, but Jensen learned pretty quickly to steer clear of her latest boyfriend's fists.
Looking over, Jensen points to his toolbox. "Will you hand me another clamp?"
The instant Jared turns to reach for it, Jensen can see where it all goes wrong. His reach isn't long enough and Jared misbalances, knocking a hip into the workbench and tripping over his own feet. The hand and arm Jared throws down to catch himself land smack on the chainsaw's raggedly sharp blade, Jared's own weight driving the saw spikes through his skin.
Jensen's tools clatter and roll away on the floor where he drops them; he's at Jared's side before Jared can really process what happened, but not before the blood wells up where the blade's jagged limb-shredding teeth are buried in Jared's skin.
"Jared, don't-"
Jared rips his arm away on instinct before Jensen can stop him, red suddenly across the whole of Jensen's vision.
"Fuck! Holy shit-Jensen..." Jared's frantic, wide-eyed in obvious pain. Jensen's shirt is the closest thing that's remotely clean; he strips down to his tank and falls with Jared to their knees on the shed's floor.
"Hey! Hey, Jared..." Jensen tries for eye contact, wrapping the shirt tightly around Jared's hand and forearm, blood seeping through in oblong stains. "Hey, look at me."
When Jared finally does, his face is drained. A fear response more than any serious damage. Jensen keeps the pressure up, Jared's arm elevated between them.
"I don't-" Jared's breaths are coming too quickly. "I don't do well with-"
"It's okay," Jensen coaxes. He's had enough experience stopping blood loss in worse situations, but it's not a skill he could add to his resume even if he had one. "I hope you've had your shots."
Jared laughs as if he can't help it, expression faltering for only a moment but it's enough for Jensen to see the break in his eyes. A sudden opening, the vulnerability Jensen never gets.
"Shit-Jensen. This-this isn't good."
Jensen doesn't think before his lips find Jared's open mouth and stop the anxious rambling. No reaction from Jared yet, mind clearly stuck on the danger of bleeding out, but Jensen kisses him softly on his top lip and bottom. Waits in close-contact until Jared's breathing slows to pace Jensen's before pulling away.
"You're gonna be fine," he whispers. "I know."
Jared sucks in a deep breath, shakily letting it go.
"You know because you've had worse."
Jared's arm flexes in Jensen's hold; he presses harder. Jared waits for a denial, expecting one, but Jensen won't start lying to him now. Better to explain something bad than let Jared assume so much worse.
"Yeah."
"And you're okay."
"I'm okay," Jensen agrees.
A shadow moves across one of the bay doors. Jensen calls out.
"Hey, Al!" The man turns, takes a few steps into the shed and pulls up at the bloody scene.
"What the hell, Jensen? Jared, man, you okay?"
"He's fine," Jensen says. "Can you run and tell Emmett that we need him? Jared got into a fight with the chainsaw blade."
Jared chuckles, hisses when he tries to move his arm.
"Shit, dude. Yeah," Al says, big boots clomping as he turns out of the shed again. "I'll be right back!"
Muted yells reach Jensen's ears. Emmett Halloran's been at the farm for a good two decades. A former Army medic, he's the closest thing to a doctor on the grounds. Jared's calmer, panic drawn back into his eyes for now as they wait.
"You know," Jared says softly, "I said I wanted your attention."
"This was a dumb way to get it."
Jared laughs and Jensen's glad to hear the stronger sound.
"Yeah it was."
They look at one another, Jared's pulse throbbing steadily under Jensen's fingers. Of the number of things either one of them could say, Jared only gets the chance to mutter thanks before Emmett runs in with the large first-aid kit, Al behind him shouting that Gerry's on his way over.
Jensen moves out of the way before he can figure out exactly what Jared's thanking him for.
~~~
A breeze cooler than anything Jensen's felt in weeks follows him in from the fields on Friday. The sun's going down, a full burst of color like fresh, sweet hay in the west.
Jared's standing on the porch with Emmett when Jensen heads for his parked truck, the old medic's mouth caught in a wide smile. Head thrown back, Jared's laugh comes easily, like he hasn't worked all week. And really, he hasn't. Not to mention, he's the reason Jensen hasn't done much hard-time on the job since Tuesday either.
Pest, Jensen thinks. He smiles with his next step.
Emmett waves to Jensen as he walks off the porch. Jared leans on the railing, one hand loose over the wood. That hand's wrapped good and tight-Emmett's work-and gives Jared a perfect excuse to sleep until noon, emerging to bother Jensen after lunch.
When Jared hasn't been around, picking up tasks like supply runs or making phone calls for his dad, Jensen's kept to himself. Like the old days only in solitude, not attitude. He'd worked in the shed the day after Jared injured himself, sticking close but never letting himself into the house to see Jared. He'd fixed the shredder, but left the second chainsaw to sit in disrepair a little longer. Served it right.
Since then, field-work's been like solace, a retreat from everything that's happened since Sunday. A kind of release in toil until Jared wandered out in gym-shorts and a t-shirt washed down to its softest, hovering until Jensen gave up and paid attention.
Sometimes it really was easier to give Jared what he wanted.
"It's Friday night," Jared says, a barely noticeable swing to his hips.
"I know that." Jensen climbs the three steps up onto the porch, Jared grinning side-long at him. "How's the hand?"
"Throbs all the time, and it's a pain in the ass to shower with one hand." From a cooler between the rocking chairs, Jared pulls two sodas and hands one over to Jensen.
"Take a bath."
"Eh." Jared shrugs; they pop their tabs in sync. "It feels manlier to suffer through the shower. And our tub barely fit me as a kid, not sure it'd even work for me now."
Other workers pass on their way out, back tires spinning dirt into the air as most of 'em head into town to share the lightness of Friday night.
Jensen leans forward on the rail next to Jared, sipping and tonguing along the aluminum rim.
"My dad's already gone to meet up with friends at the Hickory, but I've got tons of leftovers," Jared says. Jensen's well aware that with Gerry and Jared under the same roof, no one would ever go hungry in that house. "You should stick around."
He's been dodging similar invitations all week, but tonight Jensen has no reason to say no. And he knows for a fact that Jared will do his best to make Jensen miserable if he dares to work tomorrow, or even suggest it. Saturdays are sacred. Or something.
"Can I wash up?"
"Oh-" Jared's honestly surprised, grin back on his face. "Yeah, sure, of course."
Wearing a fresh button-down he'd grabbed from his truck, and with a clean face, Jensen feels less like the dirty farmhand come for dinner. Jared has invited him in, pointed him to a bathroom, and turned towards the kitchen. Jensen follows the wafting notes of brown-sugar squash and roast beef to where Jared's standing by the stove.
"I set your can on the table. Want anything else?"
"I'm good," Jensen says, grabbing his soda. He'd slipped off his boots at the door, left his socks stuffed down in one. The kitchen tile feels amazingly cool on his bare soles. "Can I help?"
"If you wanna grab plates and stuff, over here..."
They balance the work until everything's ready, less awkward for Jensen than being stuck watching. With Jared's one hand out of commission, his help is pretty much a requirement. Finally sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, they eat. Or, Jensen eats and Jared inhales.
Casual conversation picks up between bites once Jared's on his second helping. Simple things like farmwork and new equipment. How Jensen still hasn't fixed the chainsaw that had wounded Jared's pride as much as it had his arm and hand. Circling more invasive topics but never landing.
They divvy up the last of the sweet, baked squash then clear the table. Jensen's grateful for dinner-and to have company for once-and trying to figure out how to say that when Jared makes another offer.
"We've got movies," he says. "Pretty much all kinds. Or there's got to be a game on somewhere."
Jared wants him to stay.
"My dad won't be back 'til later, but he won't care." Jared must read the hesitancy on Jensen's face; his casual demeanor suddenly changes to a quiet intensity.
"I should go." Jensen backs into the front hall, Jared slowly following.
"Just a movie, I'm serious," Jared pleads. "We don't have to-"
They don't, but they could, and Jared definitely wants to. Jensen's less clear on the idea, a tug-of-war in his chest pulling him towards the door.
Jared steps up close to Jensen. Closer than he's been since Sunday, to the point where Jensen can see how he's affected. Fine ripples of emotion give away tension beneath the surface but Jared says nothing, searching Jensen's expression as thoroughly.
Physically, a kiss would be simple. Their chests nearly touch when they exhale, and Jared's lips look invitingly soft. His bandaged hand pauses a few inches above Jensen's hip. And Jensen wants to kiss him, but not here. Not in Jared's-his father's-house, Jared acting as if Jensen belonged there.
Jensen knows better.
He moves to the side; Jared gives him space and drops his hand. Resigned, but not happy about it.
Foregoing socks, Jensen slides bare feet into his boots. Halfway between Jared and the front door, he turns.
"I'll see you later," he says.
"Yeah, have a good night, Jensen."
Jensen lingers too long and wants to apologize. For tonight, for everything. Knows that will make things worse, so he leaves and doesn't look for Jared's silhouette in the front door when he climbs into the Chevy.
~~~
By Sunday afternoon, Jensen has had too many long, silent conversations with his reflection, arguments running the gamut from inevitability to sabotage. He's having trouble deciding whether to feel depressed or guilty, two of the last things he wants to be faced with.
Self-sabotage, ironically, is less destructive. Jensen had ruined a good night, as close to perfect as he was liable to get. An opportunity to stretch out this thing between him and Jared, explore a relationship. He'd forgotten what that's supposed to feel like until now-that warm, sweet connection. Wonders if he ever knew it in the first place.
Jared had done his best to bring them equal on Friday night. Balanced the terms, rooted their time in their friendship. Drawing them towards more but Jensen's got one foot stuck in friendship, not even sure he deserves to have that.
Jared's voice, remarkably clear in the forefront of his thoughts, argues. As stubborn as the real thing, he calls Jensen's bluff and refuses to back down. The Padalecki men sure know the way to get under Jensen's skin.
At first he thinks it's his stomach rumbling, but Jensen makes out heavy footsteps on the stairs, two voices talking.
There's a thump outside his door and Jensen hears Jared yell.
"Hey, Jensen! Open up, my hands are full."
He sweeps into the room like a stiff breeze, shouldering Jensen aside as he steps through with an armful of food, which he unloads on the dresser. Jensen looks back outside and sees Pam Claridge stepping through her screen door into the house.
"Did you know she was my fifth grade teacher?"
Jared grins, an olive shirt fitted across his broad shoulders, buttoned only to his sternum. Classic-cut jeans, boots, and a buckle the size and shape of Texas. He looks good next to Jensen's second-hand shirt and old jeans, holes at no extra cost.
"No idea," Jensen says. "What's this?"
"I interrupted Mrs. Claridge on her way to bring you lunch." Jared nods at the two bottles of tea, thick turkey sandwiches on paper plates, and potato salad with festive chunks of bell peppers. "She offered to make extra for me if I was staying, so of course I said yes."
Jensen stares, not sure if he should focus on the food or Jared's lean hips. Choosing neither, he looks at the clean, white bandage around Jared's hand, remembers why it's there and winces.
Jared reads the twist of his mouth all wrong.
"Don't say you're not hungry, 'cause I'll totally eat yours too."
"No, I am."
"Sweet, let's-" He stops, realizing there's nowhere to sit besides the bed. "Picnic?"
The air conditioner sputters on in the window frame, condensation gathering on their bottles of iced tea as they sit across from each other on the floor.
"How'd you know I was living here?"
Jared chews and swallows a mixed bite of potato salad and wheat bread. "My dad knew, and it's not exactly a big town."
"So you thought you'd just stop by on your way to...?"
"To nothing." Jared washes his bite down with a few gulps of tea, lips smacking on the citrus flavor. "I grew up here, remember? I get why you spend a lot of time at work, because this town's boring. I thought you might want some company."
Jensen understands they're both guilty of misjudging one another. For weeks, he'd only seen Jared as the miserable asshole upset about his ruined summer. It's been easier lately, tolerance becoming acceptance, until Jensen realized he wanted and one kiss had shaken them right back up.
"Hey, you with me?" Jared leans over their empty plates.
"Just thinking."
"Uh-huh," Jared mutters. "Do you want me to go?"
Jensen shakes his head. He likes seeing Jared here, his small space somehow made larger with Jared's presence. Sharing a meal, just like Friday night but the details make the difference. Jared came to him, such a simple gesture orchestrating a shift in their circumstances.
He clears their plates to the dresser and comes back to the floor. Jared's sitting cross-legged, knees folded wide and welcoming.
"I'm glad you came over," Jensen offers.
"Thanks," Jared says. "I guess I was worried after the other night. You kinda left in a hurry."
"It wasn't you."
"Really? It's usually me driving you off." Fidgeting, Jared tugs at his hair with his unbandaged hand, scratching at one of his rough sideburns. "Figured I said something wrong again."
Jensen can't say that Jared never comes out with the wrong words-he actually does it a lot, and not just around Jensen.
"You didn't." Jensen pulls his feet under him, sits up.
"Whatever, I'm sorry. I just-" Jared sighs. "I don't know what to say to you. I'm always apologizing, or thinking about apologizing for something." His posture wilts. "I mean, is there something you want me to say or, like, a magic word?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I've been trying to figure out what I can do to make you talk to me. Like you want to talk to me, I mean." Jared stands, backs himself towards the bed and stares down at where Jensen's kneeling. "Anything to really let me get to know you, 'cause I can only get so much when we're working. I tried to piss you off, that got me somewhere. I kept doing that until I thought you were ready to kill me-"
"And then you tried being nice," Jensen fills in the next piece, getting to his feet. "Working and talking all the time."
"When that didn't get me deeper, I had to try something else."
"Is that why you kissed me?"
Jared's eyelids fall and he shakes his head. "When it got to that point, I realized that I wanted it. Yeah, you were blocking me out, but I wasn't clueless, and I'd really started to like you."
Before he can say it, Jensen hears it. The but. The turn where Jared rescinds what he's starting to offer. Jensen folds his arms across his chest, mouth gone dry.
"But how am I supposed to keep going, here? I've never wanted someone like you, but it's worse than that now. I sort of need you, not someone like you, and that's a big, crazy first for me."
Jensen's no stranger to compulsion-letting the buzz in his veins flood every sense and giving himself over to the drugs. He's done a lot of things under a forced haze, but his head's clear when he steps in front of Jared, leaning in to kiss him.
It's not the insane confession or Jared's visit in general compelling him forward. He sees his own wants in Jared's eyes, confident that this, at least, is something they can do.
Jared reacts quickly and tugs Jensen closer. Their mouths are barely open, pliant lips pushing but no ground gained. Jensen feels the wetness just inside Jared's lower lip, the smooth line of his teeth. They lean away, find whatever reassurance they need on one another's face, and fold right back together.
They've never been able to kiss this way, time taken to explore. Learning, two parts adjusting to turn smoothly together.
Jensen lifts his left hand to Jared's jaw, thumb fitting under his chin, tilting Jared's mouth. Careful in case the moment collapses under pressure. That hand slides down over the round of Jared's shoulder and the strong angles beneath the skin. Jared never stops moving as the kiss escalates; he shifts on restless feet, slings his arms around Jensen's shoulders.
He wasn't planning on taking this to the bed but Jared walks them to the edge of the mattress. Rolling his tongue into Jared's mouth, Jensen wavers between standing and falling, body tense and indecisive.
Jared nudges their mouths apart, his stance wide so Jensen fixates on the terrifying depth in Jared's eyes when he opens his own. Bottomless hazel staring back, too much in them to help Jensen decide what he wants next. But Jared's uninhibited, slanting his lips back over Jensen's, mouthing at the lower. Jared uses his physical advantage and brings them lower onto Jensen's bed.
They're a heavy burden for the old frame, ominous creaks breaking the trance.
"Is this thing gonna hold?" Jared comes up on his elbows to avoid putting weight on his wrapped hand, Jensen lying close to his side.
"It's never had to hold up a house like you."
"Cute," Jared snorts, lays back and paws at Jensen's shoulder with his good hand to bring them closer.
"Did you-"
"Hmm?" Jared murmurs against Jensen's throat, pleasing vibrations Jensen hates to interrupt.
"Well, I didn't really know you were gay until..." Jensen stops and thinks. "How'd you know I was?"
He thinks Jared's not going to answer but his lips pause on Jensen's skin. Jared comes up with a gentle smile, a teasing tilt to it.
"You seriously never paid attention to me when I talked, huh?"
Jared weaves their knees effortlessly, Jensen not even trying to stop him.
"What?"
"I talked about guys a lot. You never got weird about it-well, weirder." He laughs, a bluff of air against Jensen's temple, when Jensen shoves him. "With you, I guess I gambled. I figured there was a good chance you'd deck me at the party one way or another, but then you kissed me back, so at least I knew you were open to it." Jared ducks his chin, finds Jensen's eyes. "Are you? I mean, I'm definitely gay, but if you-"
"I've done a lot." Jensen doesn't let the honesty choke him up. "Not always things I wanted to do, but yeah, I'm gay."
Instead of lighting up, the gleam in Jared's eyes dims, dwelling on the wrong part of what Jensen just told him.
"You do-I mean, you want to, right?"
Jensen hears the fault line in Jared's voice, poised to tremble and crack. The more time Jensen spends with Jared, the more he sees the cocky exterior being shed.
"Yeah, with you I do," Jensen says, letting some of the air back in the room. "But I'm not sure that right now is the best time for us-"
"I'm sure." Jared kneels up and over Jensen's thighs, Jensen's stomach sinking into the mattress from the impact of how Jared looks on top of him. His belt buckle shines; Jensen's fingers itch to rip it away like it's a shield between them.
Dropping forward, hands outside of Jensen's shoulders, Jared brings their mouths whisper-close.
"Right now, you should let me show you what I think."
Jared shifts his weight; the gauze wrapped around his left hand chafes Jensen's skin when Jared lays it along his jaw. A sure, guiding touch, they kiss again and again, so long that Jensen's trapped in the feeling.
It's not like being high where sensations are amped to the point that pleasure borders on hysteria, feelings indistinguishable from one another, until it crashes down. Jensen feels every single thing: the threads of the bandage on his skin, Jared's stomach against his, each coaxing flick of Jared's tongue. Pure. Unaltered sensations carried on nothing but arousal and endorphins.
Jensen's never needed much to get hooked.
Jared fumbles as he strips off his shirt. He must know not to let Jensen stop and have a chance to think, because he's back in a heartbeat, bare-chested. Pours ecstasy into Jensen's veins when they kiss and makes him need. Jensen can't find room in his head to resent the way Jared's trying-deliberately or not-to make himself an addiction. The thrill of his mouth is too good, a fix for Jensen's new cravings. An end to Jensen's withdrawal from his own life.
Jared's got Jensen's shirt halfway off before Jensen remembers.
"Wait-"
But the shirt's pulled over his head, muffling his protest. With Jared on top of him, Jensen's unable to cross his arms over his stomach. Jared's hair hangs loosely around his forehead as he looks down at the puckered scars marring Jensen's skin. He tries to redirect Jared's focus with gentle palms.
Jared says, "I saw the scars before. Just once." His voice is calm, almost detached, not drawing the irony of bringing up Jensen's physical imperfections with his bandaged hand soft on Jensen's cheek.
Jensen wants to curl in on himself but fights not to move. It scares him, but he should be judged for some of the things he's done. Jared has always drawn his own conclusions and whatever he thinks can't be worse than what Jensen has thought of himself.
"They're nothing."
Hazel eyes come up.
"I thought you didn't lie."
Jared lays warm lips over Jensen's sternum and, more skillfully than any detective, coerces a confession.
"They're something."
Jared hums, takes his mouth on a downward path that bypasses each of the stab wounds, and Jensen lets out the breath he's holding. The scars don't deserve that kind of intimate attention. He wants to surge up, take Jared's lips and thank him for not pushing-for his peculiar brand of no-strings-attached acceptance-but Jensen lays back, grips this sheets with one hand and Jared's naked shoulder with the other.
His jeans don't put up a fight against Jared's fingers. Jared bends his tall frame awkwardly over Jensen's hips, kneeling off to one side and pushing the jeans and underwear down, always careful with his injured arm.
Jensen's cock lays over his right thigh, already hardening, expectant. Again, Jensen is caught in the rush of how it feels to really want someone, mind and body together in the moment.
As Jared strokes, Jensen's hand wanders from the bed to Jared's groin, pressing and kneading the thickening erection under denim. The large buckle blocks his knuckles, quickly stripped away by Jared's hands. Jared doesn't undo his own jeans though, back to jacking Jensen with an even, maddening rhythm.
Jensen shuts his eyes, hisses softly.
Jared's mouth comes as a surprise.
Deep breaths become impossible with soft heat wrapping around his dick, Jared's injured hand pressing down on his chest. Balance or restraint, Jensen can't think to care. Jared's moans come and go, a thick, throaty vibrato that feels so damn good.
Jensen loses coordination in his hand, nestled in the bunched denim between Jared's thighs, squeezing when the pressure of Jared's mouth sucks him just right. Jared's hips tilt forward into his grip every few seconds, irresistible draw of friction.
He can't remember the last time someone sucked him off, but then he can't really recall a lot of specifics from the months before the stabbing landed him in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed rails.
This blow job isn't tentative; Jared's intense and rushed, sucking air through his parted lips when he comes up too fast.
"Is it good?" Jared asks, voice full of grit.
"Yeah-" Jensen's not really in a state to answer coherently. "Good, just go easy."
He lifts his free hand, strokes lightly across Jared's neck and shoulders. The pace settles to a slower, more languid and winding road to pleasure.
From this angle on the bed, Jared's features appear more fine-boned than Jensen's seen before, not delicate but sharp and precisely sculpted. Long, straight line of his nose, cheekbones widening on either side. Gorgeous and younger in years and experience. So different from Jensen, but he craves Jared in a way he's not used to.
Right then, Jared rolls Jensen's balls against the palm of his hand, cutting off all cognitive thought. Jensen thrusts up on instinct, deeper into Jared's throat, but Jared doesn't stop. Sucking until Jensen's nails bite hard into his shoulders, he finally pulls off and strokes Jensen's dick with a saliva-slick hand. Tight fist, he twists his grip and Jensen comes like that, spine snapping up.
Jensen's barely down before he feels his hand knocked aside as Jared fumbles, ripping down the zipper on his jeans and shoving his unbandaged hand in.
Jared's cock is thick and slightly curved, Jensen staring at the furious tug of Jared's fist, no room to add his own hand into the action. He mutters low encouragements, feels the cool tackiness of come on his lower stomach.
At the last moment, Jared bends down and kisses him, hips jerking against Jensen's side. Their lips bite and tease, Jensen keeps trying to duck away and watch-he wants to see-but Jared tempts him back.
Jared comes in short pulses, groaning against Jensen's cheek, and falls next to him on the bed. Hands sticky, Jensen's skin marked temporarily with their mixed come, Jared winces.
"I didn't mean to make a mess," he says.
Jensen grins. "I think that means we were doing it right."
"Good to know."
In Jensen's past, drugs and alcohol smothered his relationships and kept them meaningless; he's never had to deal with the emotional aftermath of sex. His partners passed out or stumbled away, or Jensen was the one finding his way out of an unfamiliar bedroom before things got awkward.
But Jared's awake, up only for a minute to wash his hands and grab tissues for Jensen to clean himself off with. Then he's climbing back on the bed, unbuckled jeans falling open, pale skin showing above soft, dark hair.
For a second, Jensen thinks Jared's going to ask if he's okay. Glad he doesn't because Jensen has no answer. Instead, Jared rolls towards him.
"We should hang out for the rest of the day."
"Doing what?"
Jared smirks. Jensen's smile is almost a reflex.
"Grab dinner in town, watch a baseball game. Or," Jared shrugs, nothing innocent about it, "we could do that again."
"Sounds good," Jensen says, eyes tracking where his shirt ended up.
"Which part?" Jared sits up beside him, casually eager. He angles for a kiss and gets Jensen's cheek instead.
"The part about dinner."
Jared laughs, follows Jensen off the bed when he finally finds his shirt.
~~~
It's still early when the steel gray Dodge Ram pulls around next to Jensen's Chevy. If it weren't for four wheels and flatbeds, the two trucks would be complete opposites. Gerry steps out with his coffee thermos in one hand, cell phone attached to his leather belt. The farmer's jeans are clean and his shirt's ironed. Face clean-shaven, eyes bright and present, looking far more awake than Jensen feels.
"I thought I was gonna miss you," Gerry says, walking up beside Jensen at the door to the supply shed. "But Emmett told me you were already out here."
"I couldn't really sleep."
Gerry stares out into the fields, towards the east where the sun's now fully round above the horizon.
"Sometimes it just takes a long day out here to wear you down. You'll sleep well tonight, I bet."
They're both silent as Jensen loads up the Chevy's flatbed with tools. Normally Jensen would be sure that his face gives away nothing about what happened between Jared and him yesterday, but Gerry's perceptive like his son, just more subtle about what he learns.
Gerry says, "I'll be back on Thursday, but it oughta be business as usual around here 'til then. Need anything from me before I go?"
"I'm alright," Jensen answers, "but have a good trip."
"Damn business nonsense." Gerry rocks back and forth on the dirty concrete surrounding the shed. So comfortable in his own environment, reluctant to leave. Jensen sympathizes. "Keep Jared busy this week, don't let him slack off. Hell, I think he's still asleep."
Jensen sets the last tool in the truck, leans on the tailgate. There's nothing but humor in the farmer's intelligent eyes, but he's careful to only give Gerry a small reaction.
"Plenty for him to do."
Gerry sighs. "Always is. Well, take care, Jensen. When I get back, let's talk."
That has Jensen looking up but Gerry's already walking to his truck, climbing into the cab and balancing his coffee, a short wave out the window as he drives out towards the main road.
He can't let go of the comment all morning, trying to place Gerry's expression when he said it. As usual, the farmer gave nothing away.
Distracted, Jensen heads in for an early lunch. Al calls his name from one of the shaded tables set next to the main building.
"Hey! Jared just came by looking for you."
Jensen fights his smile.
"I'm surprised he's awake."
Al snorts. "Must be nice having the old man gone and sleeping in! Anyway, he said he'd be around the garage this afternoon if you wanted him to work on your truck."
Jared had done a pretty good job patching up the Chevy over a week ago when he first worked on it, but it's a good cover. No one would hesitate to believe that Jensen's rust-bucket needed more attention.
"Thanks," Jensen says. "Enjoy your lunch."
Jared's standing inside the wide bay door when Jensen pulls up, engine clunking as he pulls the key from the ignition. Jared turns, cell at his ear, and tilts his chin. He thumbs the phone off and shoves it in his pocket before Jensen gets out of the truck.
"Hey, have you eaten?"
"Not yet, but I have a sandwich."
"I brought out chips and sodas if you want some," Jared says. "C'mon, it's all on the table."
Jensen follows, sitting at the picnic table just as Jared's ripping into a bag of salt and vinegar chips. The sun can't work its way through the shagbark's thick foliage, a light breeze keeping the early August heat from being oppressive. Jared's across from him, knees touching under the old, warped table.
Jensen offers over half of the sandwich Pam had given him.
"Nah, I ate breakfast, like, half an hour ago," Jared says. "I know, it's pathetic. I meant to stay up when my dad left, but I went right back to sleep."
"How do you make it to class?"
Jared laughs and says, "I know not to schedule anything before noon. I could never do what you do." He stuffs a handful of salty chips in his mouth, chews and swallows. "I bet my dad's glad he didn't have to put up with my lazy ass all summer."
Been a while since Jensen's thought about the way he took Jared's summer job. Jared doesn't exactly complain. But in the midst of feeling good that his position worked out, Jensen remembers that his job, like Jared's time at home, was meant to be temporary.
He swallows a dry piece of his sandwich too quickly and coughs. Jared slides one of the sodas over, twisting the top.
"Do you have a lot more to do today?" Jared asks when the food's gone, the majority of the chips in his stomach.
"A few hours' worth, at least. Why?"
Jared's forehead wrinkles. "I thought-maybe you'd want to come hang out with me instead."
"Jared-"
"I have video games."
"I don't know how to play," Jensen argues. "And I need to work-"
"Then I'll play and you can, I don't know, take a nap or something. You probably got up really early."
"Jared-" Jensen cuts in. "I can't."
"What about dinner later? C'mon, my dad's gone but I have plenty of food. We can grill out."
"Maybe." Jensen's already picturing being alone with Jared tonight-the pressure, the way he knows he's going to want to get physical again, unable to forget how good it felt yesterday. And on the other side, knowing that there's no way he'll be able to fool around with Jared in his father's house.
Jared won't get a more committal answer than that and he knows it.
"Whatever," he throws back curtly. "I'll be around."
"Are you working today?" Jensen asks as they crumple their trash in a pile.
Jared holds up his left hand. "Still kinda stings. Can you manage without me?"
Jensen had been looking forward to having Jared out with him. He shrugs off the slight, heading back to his truck and leaving Jared with the garbage. Jared should be able to handle that.
The annoyance fades the longer Jensen works and by the time his back's all wrenched up from digging, it's forgotten. At quitting time, his stomach's reading empty and Jared, all too clever, is already grilling.
Jensen smells the charcoal, nose leading the way around the house to the back deck. Brushing the dirt off as best he can, he joins Jared, the sweet sizzle of hamburger meat is mouth-watering.
"This was low, man," Jensen says.
"Cooking so you wouldn't be able to resist?" Jared pulls a bottle of light beer to his lips . "Yeah, it was. But it worked," he adds with a wink. "I've got water and soda if you don't want a beer."
Jensen takes water, throat already dry from dust, the smoke not helping when he takes over grilling duties so Jared can heat up potatoes and grab thick deli rolls for the meat. He brings everything out to the deck, porch lights setting the night aglow.
They add cheese to the burgers before Jensen pulls them off the grill. Eating and talking at the same time is hard-the hamburgers are juicy and hot, mouthfuls of hot meat and tangy condiments. Easily the best meal Jensen's had in a long time.
When the food's gone, Jared pouts.
"I'm too full to move." He stretches languidly, careful of his full stomach. "Clean up can wait."
They don't speak over the sound of summer cicadas buzzing low and constant. Jensen falls into a contented daze, eyelids sinking, enjoying the peace as his thoughts slow to a trickle.
When Jensen looks over, Jared's eyes are closed. Stretched long in his chair, bare ankles crossed, he could be asleep. Chin dropped to his chest, profile lit by the deck light. He peeks through narrowed slits when Jensen starts to stand up.
"Sorry, food coma," Jared says, yawning and getting up to help Jensen with the dishes. They don't attempt more than piling things in the kitchen sink. "How about a movie, something totally cheesy and easy to ignore?"
Just like before, Jensen panics.
"Thanks for dinner, but I should head home."
"Home, seriously? There's nothing to do at your place, why are you in such a hurry to get back there?"
Because there is nothing to do and it's safer that way. Jared wouldn't understand.
"I'm tired," Jensen verges on a lie, feeling awful. "I got here really early and tomorrow-"
"You can totally sleep in tomorrow if you need to," Jared interrupts. His voice teeters, frustration getting the better of him. Jensen never expected his patience to be infinite. "You know, I don't get it, Jensen. I thought we-I thought you liked spending time with me, but here you are trying to get away. Again. What'd I do this time?"
Jared blames himself; it festers in his tone.
"Nothing," Jensen says. "I just can't stay."
"But you won't tell me why."
If Jensen has to explain his ingrained hang-ups to someone, Jared's the obvious choice. Jensen could leave, let the questions continue to hang between them until summer's over and Jared's gone, but he's sick of running, too. Sick of getting what he's always gotten.
"I'm uncomfortable, okay?"
"With movies? Sure," Jared says, unattractively sarcastic.
"This is your dad's house, I mean-" Jensen pauses. The entire thing is clear in his head but isn't coming out of his mouth the same way. "Gerry took me on when I had nothing, and he trusts me even when I probably don't deserve it. I can't fuck that up, you know?"
Jared's forehead shows his confusion.
"This is about my dad? That's-I don't even know."
"No," Jensen quickly steps in. "Not really, I just can't do anything with you, here. It's weird, I can't get mixed up." He's rambling now, momentum of a freight train. "I work here every day and I want to spend time with you and do everything else, but it's weird. I feel like I'm still at work and being with you-"
He stops himself again. Jared's expression morphs between anger and humor; Jensen has no idea which he'll land on.
"So, stay and have sex, or leave," Jared says carefully. "You think you only have two choices here?"
He starts to laugh; Jensen folds back defensively and grumbles.
"That's more than I'm used to getting."
The laughter dies a speedy death.
"No, Jensen. That's not-shit. I wasn't making fun of you, but look. I know I act dumb sometimes, but I get that doing stuff here would be weird." Jared steps along the counter, closer to Jensen.
"I was a kid in this house," he says, laughing again but the sound is calmer. "I broke my arm falling down the stairs, and I stomped through this kitchen covered in mud more than once. When my parents divorced, I smashed a couple of dining room chairs to pieces and then hid in my room for over a week. So yeah, it's weird for me too. When I said hang out, that's all I meant."
Despite his doubt a few minutes ago, Jensen makes an effort to trust Jared. But the quick switch in emotion leaves him disappointed in himself.
"I don't think you act dumb," Jensen says. "Just crazy sometimes. And crazy doesn't bother me."
"I kinda thought you just weren't interested in getting to know me, you know? Other than work and sex, I guess, and that's why you were in a hurry to go."
"I'm sorry."
Jared waves it off.
"I'm serious about the getting-to-know-each-other thing," he says. "So, all that said, will you stay?"
Jensen has to smile. "Maybe you are dumb, because you don't need to ask."
"Hey!" Jared playfully knocks Jensen's shoulder, turning him towards the family room. "Five years at college means I'm smarter than everyone else because I've taken so many classes! Now, are you making me pick the movie or what?"
~~~
Storm clouds bloom out of nowhere on Wednesday afternoon, turning the sky a thick, menacing gray. The rain hits hard, abusing dry soil and summer growth, seeming to fall in every direction but straight up.
Jensen flees in the Chevy, heading home for the day instead of back to the farmhouse. Jared pulls up to the curb right behind him and they're soaked by the time they stumble inside, leaving shoes, socks, and shirts in a sopping pile by the door. Laughing all the way to the bed despite the tingle shivering up Jensen's arms, they topple as their knees tangle in heavy jeans.
The rain beats on the window behind Jensen's bed but they don't let the intrusion in the room. They share fresh, wet kisses, stealing the rain back off one another's skin, and Jensen wonders how he survived so long without feeling. Nerves in his fingers are revitalized, eager to share the texture of Jared's cool skin with the rest of Jensen's body. His eyes see the way Jared smiles, absurd but sexy, and hold onto the image when they close in the middle of a kiss.
Every exhale, every hitch of breath that brings Jared's chest closer to Jensen's, he feels. Sex isn't a hard ride to the end anymore, it's a journey up and down Jared's long body-both of them getting naked along the way-until Jensen's on the floor with Jared's legs spread wide for him.
He doesn't have to do this. Jared doesn't say it, and hopefully trusts Jensen to know it. He does want to-wants to apply his new control over his senses to Jared, and relearn what he actually likes when the drugs aren't making cognitive decisions for him.
Jensen is the one on his knees but this is about both of them, Jared's hands going wherever they can reach, totally in the moment with Jensen. Enjoying the encouragement, Jensen responds enthusiastically, doesn't think to care that they've both been out in the fields, out in the rain. Jensen's nose drags against Jared's sweaty thigh and he tastes his way up to Jared's groin, tongue and lips tickled by the dark hair.
Motions are easy to remember, muscle memory taking over as Jensen works Jared's dick deeply. Fast as opposed to slow, Jensen wants the explosion over a long burn, a little impressed when Jared's fingers claw through his hair and hold as he teeters at the edge but doesn't fall.
Jared releases him, pulls him back up on the bed. Plenty of saliva on Jared's dick, a smooth rub as they're grinding together, hands groping down to help them both along.
They collapse almost immediately after they come, side by side on the bed and silent for a long time as the rain picks up its tempo, surrounding the garage apartment in a vortex of dull noise and darkness. But Jensen has a smile on his face, breaths evening out; the chill that lingers from the rain feels good, a relief after so many days of heat and humidity.
Jared shifts over eventually, pattern of Jensen's handprints fading from his skin.
"Are you hungry?"
"I'm still naked."
"Yeah?" Jared grins, blatantly eyeing all that nakedness. "Well, I'm starving."
Jensen pulls the sheet over his hips, Jared less modest when he stands up completely bare. Their clothes are wet and Jared hangs his jeans over a chair, fishing his cell phone out of one damp pocket.
"You'll eat pizza, right?" he asks, and dials as soon as Jensen nods.
Half an hour later, they've got two pepperoni pizzas, sodas, and paper plates for another picnic on Jensen's floor. White napkins sit in a neat pile next to the boxes but Jared licks the shiny, orange grease right off his fingers, comical wearing Jensen's thinnest, rattiest pair of cotton pants, hair mussed every which way. Glad they had sex first, Jensen stifles his amusement and enjoys the satisfaction of a full stomach.
"Can I ask you something?"
Usually, Jared doesn't ask permission-chooses to ask for forgiveness later if he feels he needs to. Jensen considers, then nods.
"Whatever happened-those scars on your stomach-is that what made you want to live your life differently?"
Jensen's been expecting the question but an answer doesn't come immediately to his tongue. He watches Jared start on another wide slice, tearing the crust off and eating that first.
"I got stabbed," Jensen leads with the most obvious point, imagining he can feel each scar tingle reflexively under his dry t-shirt.
"Wrong place, wrong time?"
Jensen's mouth twists. "Wrong people, very wrong time." Jared takes another bite and swallows. "It was a deal with guys I didn't really know, and it went bad."
Jared doesn't remark on the massive understatement but he uses the probing stare he's inherited from his father. Jensen wavers. He can stop there and let Jared fill in the rest, but the rest is what's really important, the part of the story that matters.
"Someone got pissed, and everyone freaked. I was the only one without a knife." Jensen refuses to tell Jared that he wasn't even a part of the deal that night. He'd been blazed, leeching off some guy that had kept him that way for over a week. Used however the guy wanted and barely conscious enough to care. Jensen won't admit that to Jared, his hazel eyes intense but, so far, calm.
"I wasn't the only one who got stabbed," Jensen continues, "but I was the only guy who couldn't get up and run away before the cops showed up."
He'd woken up when the first knife split his stomach, his colorful world bursting to leave him in a dirty alley behind a strip mall, his blood far from the only stain on the concrete.
"Were you arrested?" Jared asks.
"Not that time. I was treated like the victim 'cause they didn't have proof of anything major. I was wrecked, yeah," Jensen clarifies honestly, "but they knew I didn't stab myself. And I could give them some information in exchange for letting the minor stuff go."
Jared doesn't say he's sorry like so many people would. He closes the pizza boxes, gathers their garbage, and stacks it to one side.
"Was anyone there for you?"
Jensen shakes his head. "After that, there was nothing for me to leave behind. When I got out of the hospital, I sold just about everything I had left and bought the Chevy."
A smile curls Jared's lips. "I like that truck."
"It's a pile of rust and scrap metal," Jensen says, but he's grinning. Hard not to, and the mood suddenly changes. "It almost didn't get me here."
Jared laughs. "Yeah, I know you love your truck, too. You can make it just about anywhere if you have a solid frame under you, and that truck's as solid as they come."
Jensen scratches his chin self-consciously and the story ends there. Jared lets him have his secrets, so much like his father. Both men give him freedom over his past and the chance to leave it there.
The storm had abated while they talked, sky dull under a thick cloud cover, but no rain. Jared gets up and pokes at his jeans-still damp.
"You can wear my stuff back," Jensen offers.
"Kinky," Jared says, expression anything but straight. "Thanks, I'll wash 'em tonight for you." He slips into his shirt, mostly dry, and his shoes squelch as he wedges his feet in. "So gross. Want me to take the trash with me?"
"I got it."
Jensen doesn't ask him to stay, but Jared kisses him at the threshold, in no hurry to go anywhere.
And Jensen's glad.
~~~
Gerry gets back on Thursday morning and he's pouring himself another cup of coffee when Jensen walks into his office. Less organization to the farmer's chaos than usual, there are papers fanned out across the farmer's wide desk, drawers packed too full to close properly.
Jensen waits in the doorway until Gerry looks up.
The farmer says, "This is why I hate leaving. Things are always worse when you get back." Relocating a handful of folders from his chair onto a massive stack behind him, Gerry sits and nods. "Have a seat."
"Jared said you were looking for me."
The farmer's son had wordlessly pointed Jensen towards the office and disappeared back inside his house. Wary of keeping Gerry waiting, Jensen hadn't gone after him.
"Would've grabbed you myself, but I kept getting snagged up with another phone call," Gerry says. "It's likely to take a week for me to catch back up." He sighs, smiling over at Jensen. "But that's business. Now, Jensen, let me ask you something.
"To tell you the truth, I didn't know what to expect when I hired you," Gerry admits. "I thought that if my son ever showed up, I'd let you go."
"I'm glad that wasn't the case."
The lines on the farmer's face accentuate the warmth of his grin.
"Same here," Gerry says, "and I'd like you to stay on past the end of the season."
"You want me to stay?" Jensen repeats, voice lame.
"I've never given you reason to think I wasn't happy with your work, have I?"
"No, but-" Jensen tries to think of a reason to dissuade Gerry, but one won't come. He doesn't want to let this slip by him. "I've been good here."
"That's what I was tryin' to say." Gerry pulls a blank piece of paper from the mess in front of him, like plucking a rabbit from a hat. As he talks, he jots his own points down. "Now, there'll be a few things to work out, you know. I can't pay you more than I do right now until you get trained up a little bit. There are classes on equipment repair in town and down in Kansas City-I'll pay for those if you want to take 'em-so you'll be able to work on more than just the simple fixes.
"I know you're reliable, Jensen, and that's what I need. Any of this sound good?"
"Yeah." Jensen leans forward in his chair, knees bouncing the way Jared's do when he's excited. "And the classes sound good. Whatever I can learn."
"I thought so," Gerry responds in a sure tone. "You've got a few weeks before the first class I'd like you to take, but don't worry, that one's at the county tech school."
"That'll be great," Jensen says. "Thank you, Gerry. You have no idea-"
"I might, Jensen," Gerry interrupts. "I just might."
The farmer spends a few minutes filling in details that Jensen will need him to repeat later on. His mind constantly circles back to the fact that he can keep his job-that Gerry wants him on the farm. He hadn't wanted to think about leaving the men who'd given him a chance here. Leaving Pam and her husband, and the first home Jensen's lived in for a while that wasn't leased on sin, his soul as collateral. Leaving Jared, and the way he'd-
Jared. Jensen doesn't have to leave Jared, because Jared is going to leave him.
He has trouble listening to Gerry after that.
~~~
Jared never reappears.
Jensen breaks for lunch and Gerry mentions something about Jared making 'school plans.' In no position to pry, Jensen heads back out to the fields alone, work suffering for his distraction. He stays there longer than usual and Jared's nowhere to be found when Jensen steers into the main drive. With nothing else to do, he drives the Chevy straight home.
Regarding his reflection that night, Jensen's half-convinced he's looking at a stranger. His eyes are clear and aware, the only visible strain coming from a hard day's work. When he takes a deep breath, the wear lines around his eyes and mouth soften until he looks his age. Almost.
Time, no matter how kind, can't work miracles. Jensen's only looking for something to put in the win column.
The story of Jensen Ackles isn't heartwarming. It's not even heartbreaking-no one's going to pity him for fucking up as many times as he did. But fate took one last chance on Jensen and put him on the road towards the Padaleckis.
Jensen knows better than to think he's been cured. He'll always be an addict. The only distinction is that he's recovering instead of relapsing. He used to be poor, money burned away as soon as he had it, but he has enough now for... For something, he hasn't thought that far ahead. Thinking about the future releases a rush of something he's rarely felt before.
Anticipation.
The future means living, not just surviving.
As much as Jensen wants to keep this small victory all to himself, he can't ignore the role Jared's played. He's been more influential than Gerry-though Jensen knows he'll be forever grateful for the opportunities the farmer's given him-but also more of a pain in the ass. Jared has pushed him, over and over and almost over the edge. Not with kindness and compassion, Jensen thinks. Usually, the complete opposite.
It works; Jensen finds compassion stifling. Hearts of gold are good and all, but Jensen doesn't need anyone trying to fix him. His new life's not going to mean much if he owes someone for it-he needs to do the rough stuff on his own. Gerry might have given him this job, but Jensen forced himself to drive here every morning. He made the decision to stay and tough it out and, after Jared came around, he had Jared kicking his ass around every corner.
He needs Jared's indifference, the lack of guilt he makes Jensen feel. Along with Gerry's warmth and honesty, Jensen has found two men he can coexist with who aren't trying to rehab him.
Under his sheets, trying to fall asleep, Jensen remembers Jared saying he needed Jensen. In what way, Jensen has no idea, but it suddenly feels important to know.
And to find out whether or not that's going to end when Jared inevitably leaves.
part three.