[Fic] What You've Got is Gold | part two
~~~
A week races by and too soon, Jensen’s packing for Omaha. Jared thought he’d barely see him, but Jensen carves out the time; they’re together every other night, not to mention flirting with one another at the pool and grabbing quick meals before Jensen’s presence is required at yet another strategy session with Jeff. To say Jared takes advantage of their time is an understatement; he and Jensen cover more distance-emotionally and physically-each night. Two days before Jensen leaves, Jared fucks Jensen for the first time with still-empty suitcases and duffle bags forming a ring around Jensen’s bed.
Fair to say Jared has a reel of pictures like this in his head, but being inside Jensen is more intense than he’d been able to imagine. Jared is no stranger to good sex (sometimes great sex!), but this feels like more: passion and lust and the thrill of a first time magnified by the potential loss Jared is facing.
But, Jared digresses from the sex, and that won’t stand. Because Jensen’s in perfect shape everywhere apparently, ass clamping like a vise around Jared’s cock. He rears up, sways into the anchor of Jared’s palm splayed between his shoulder blades and he’s wearing a circlet of sweat, hair dark and damp at the base of his neck. Gorgeous, taut and slick from exertion, Jensen’s like a wave Jared wants to catch over and over until he collapses at the shore, spent and shaking. But first, Jared will be damned if he comes before fulfilling one more fantasy. Pulling out amidst a low, keening protest, Jared flips Jensen onto his back and waits for the fog to lift from Jensen’s eyes.
“If you stop one more time-”
“What’d I say about threats, Jen?” Jared asks, panting.
Jensen huffs, leg muscles rippling as he opens a valley between his knees. “No idea, but I said I wanted to get fucked, not talked to.”
Jared would extol the virtues of patience but he’s running low as well. This pause is merely an adjustment. “I thought I was doing a damn good job of it.”
“You were, so get back down here and-” Jensen never gets to finish as Jared drives back into his body, enough lube applied during their warm-up that his cock regains depth quickly, seating them together. And finally-hallelujah!-Jared’s in a position to take possession of Jensen’s legs and wrap them around his waist. Knees butterflied wide, Jensen’s thighs inch down until they catch on Jared’s hips and lock. A spread-eagled vista in front of Jared’s eyes, all corded muscle and supple, frictionless skin; Jensen’s cock standing like a mast in rough seas, bobbing into the undulating rhythm. If only Jared could suck and fuck Jensen at the same time (now that’s an image to keep handy when Jensen’s in Omaha), but at 6’4”, he’ll need more than yoga to be able to bend like that.
Jared goes for broke, doing everything in his power to wring an orgasm out of Jensen while they’re connected. Feels like a tryout and he desperately wants a call-back. His thrusts are on target, aided by the fact that Jensen’s body is so open, alternating deep and shallow, and he teases his fingers around Jensen’s erection. Scratching through soft hair (soon to be shaved bare, and Jared can’t even think about that or he’ll lose his mind right now) and kneading around the base.
When Jensen’s close he yanks Jared down into a kiss, tongues chasing each other between their mouths. The kiss gentles, nearly ceases altogether as Jensen comes and he’s left gasping against Jared’s lips while his hands glide restlessly up Jared’s spine and over his shoulders. Between Jensen’s constant, roving touch, the way his breath flutters, and the fantastic pressure of his body gripping Jared’s dick, Jared is powerless to dam his orgasm. He’s so enthralled that he barely feels the condom around him until his elbows turn in and he collapses, pulling out at the same time.
“So you’ve got a thing for my legs,” Jensen says after the inevitably unsexy task of clean-up has been seen to.
“Like that’s a surprise,” Jared teases, dropping back onto Jensen’s bed feeling a little wobbly in the knees. It’s been too long since sex left him this wiped; he enjoys the feeling. “Actually I’ve developed a thing for your arms, too.” He kisses Jensen’s shoulder. And his navel, inner wrist, sternum, and throat, naming them all as he moves up. “Your mouth’s not too bad either,” he finishes, lingering on Jensen’s parted lips.
Jensen smirks but turns his eyes towards the pillow. “Because of what it can do?”
And Jared cannot have moping ruin their first time, so he corrects Jensen. “Because of all the crazy shit you say…and maybe a little bit because of what it does to me,” he adds, craning down for another kiss, this one to shut Jensen up for good. Dignity is inconsequential-Jared won’t allow this future gold-medalist doubt himself for any reason. Hell, protecting Jensen’s ego is practically patriotic at this point. “I’d ask if staying over is against the rules,” Jared says as he wiggles into a comfortable groove in Jensen’s pillowtop mattress, “but I’m not giving you a choice.”
Jensen yawns. “Sleepover guests cook breakfast.”
“Is IHOP acceptable?”
“Ask me in the morning,” Jensen mutters, tugging Jared into a better position for cuddling. While unconsciousness washes over Jensen quickly (no surprise given his exhaustive regimen), Jared lies awake for a long time, trying not to think beyond the bed that remains to be broken in and chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.
~~~
In less than twenty-four hours, Jared goes from treading water to floundering in the emotional deep end.
His plan is to give Jensen one last night of ‘whatever you want’ freedom before the trials-before London and the weeks that are going to change everything. When Jared weighs himself against the medals he knows Jensen’s going to win, publicity, endorsements, and God knows what else, there’s not much he can do to sweeten the pot. Better not to think about it and concentrate on having a good time.
Light, easy fun. At least, that’s the plan. And it starts out well, picking up two home-style chicken dinners on the way back to Jared’s place, queuing up some classic James Bond flicks while they sprawl on the wide couch and talk trivialities, all while Jared thinks about how amazing it’s going to be when Jensen fucks him later. Or right now, apparently, as Jensen crawls into his lap before Agent 007 has seduced his first Bond Girl.
“We haven’t gotten to the good part yet,” Jared says, eyes easily distracted from the flatscreen in favor of Jensen’s sudden takeover.
“This is the good part,” replies Jensen just before their lips meet with a sweetness Jared can only savor for a moment before it hardens into something more desperate. Jared’s tongue is quickly drawn into the action, sweeping behind Jensen’s teeth after pushing forward. It’s a kiss that could never end, making Jared feel so good, but arousal has a way of, well, getting in the way, and once Jensen starts undulating over his groin, Jared has to break away with a gasp.
“Okay,” he says, “screw the movie. Let’s take this to my bedroom-”
“Jared.”
“-or we can stay right here if you want,” Jared finds himself rambling. “The couch is big enough for me to…I mean, I’ve had sex on it before. Is that too weird to say? It’s not like we’ve been dating that long and I’ve had-”
“Jared!” This time Jensen follows his name with a soft tap on the shoulder. His green eyes are soft, the smooth surface of his gaze disturbed as if by an invisible ripple. “Did you say ‘dating’?”
Shit. Jared tries to look away but Jensen won’t let him, cupping his cheek.
“Are we dating?” With his other hand, Jensen gestures between their chests. “Is this a thing?”
“You picked a really terrible time to ask me that,” Jared groans, adjusting his position on the cushions to give his erection room to breathe.
Jensen mistakes his movement for desperation. “Because you’d rather be having sex?”
“No, I mean”-Jared struggles; of course he’d rather be having sex, but this is important-“because you’re leaving, like, tomorrow and this is the last time I’m going to see you. It’s not fair for me to bring this up right now.”
“What do you mean?” Jensen asks. “You’ll see me after-”
“After the Olympics?” Jared takes over. “I know you won’t be back here after the trials, you’ll be off training with the rest of the team.”
“That’s required.”
“And after London, who knows where you’ll end up, but it probably won’t be here, swimming in my pool every day.”
Jensen shakes his head, amusement quirking the corners of his mouth. “Dude, I’m a swimmer. It’s basically the only thing I know how to be. Which means I’ll probably always be swimming somewhere-I can’t just up and stop. And you’re going back to school in, like, a month anyway, so you won’t be at the pool every day either.”
Jared wonders where the conversation got derailed; he has no idea what Jensen’s trying to say. “I’m not trying to lock you into anything,” he offers instead. “You’re gonna have so many options, it’ll be crazy.”
Jensen stares. “Are you saying you don’t want to date me?”
“Are you kidding?” Jared scoffs. “Of course I want to! I got to rescue you from drowning-”
“Hey!”
“-you were willing to hang out with me even with your insane schedule,” Jared continues heedless of the interruptions. He’s on a roll, singing Jensen’s praises with barely a breath in between. “You’re hilarious, dedicated, and so fucking amazing, I feel the need to pinch myself every time I wake up next to you. And, oh yeah! You’re going to win a gold medal at the Olympics this year.”
After all of that, Jensen’s cheeks are lit up with a bashful glow. Jared can’t believe it; here’s a guy whose athletic talent has been celebrated since he was a kid, and he has the nerve to look shy when Jared rattles off compliment after compliment. Damn, Jensen really is perfect for Jared.
“I guess the bigger question is, do you want to date me?” Jared asks, completely oblivious to the sound of massive Bond-esque destruction coming from the movie.
Jensen’s gorgeous, cheek-to-cheek smile is confirmation enough, and Jared’s heart is suddenly lighter than air, rescuing him from the deep, turbulent waters of uncertainty.
“You’re right,” Jensen finally says. “If I can win the trials-”
“Which you will,” Jared adds, sincerity in his voice when he says, “I hope I don’t see you until you’re back from London.”
“And you’ll still want this?” In this moment, the cocky swimmer has disappeared, leaving only a regular guy pleading for affection. Instead of breaking Jared’s heart; it gives him hope. “When I get back?”
“Maybe,” Jared says, tilting his head for a kiss that will soften his teasing and give Jensen his real answer. “Only if you win a gold medal.”
“Oh yeah?” Jensen questions before he’s consumed by the kiss, too. This time around, the sweetness lingers. Nothing too chaste (where’s the fun in that?), but Jared finds himself focusing on Jensen’s lips, shaping his own around their fullness and curves, tilting to the side to kiss the corners of Jensen’s mouth. While Jared’s thusly distracted, Jensen murmurs, “what if I win two?”
Jared’s lips hover over Jensen’s. “Then I’ll let you tell everyone that you’ve hooked the hottest lifeguard in Texas.”
He’s not sure why he says it-thinks about unsaying it before Jensen has a chance to respond, because he doesn’t want that weight on Jensen’s shoulders; doesn’t want to send him off with the pressure of coming out. He meant to tease Jensen, not force him to redefine himself. But Jensen doesn’t let him struggle with it for long, taking all of that potential energy he’d stored up from Jared’s light kisses and turning it around. In a flash, Jared’s on his back on the couch with Jensen on top of him, smiling the kind of smile that transforms someone’s face from happy to radiant.
And he’s still grinning when he dips low and says, “It’s a deal.”
The rest of their night is not something Jared’s likely to forget anytime soon. He hasn’t bottomed for anyone since Dylan-and even then, the occasions were rare and uncomfortable on account of his ex-boyfriend’s lack of experience when it came to topping-but something about Jensen and the way he’s so willing to let go has Jared willing and ready to give it up.
Jensen’s never hidden the fact that he enjoys switching-“Why limit yourself to one kind of pleasure?” he’d said when Jared asked his preference-which is something Jared isn’t used to. Thanks to his size and stature, Jared tended to attract more bottoms than tops, and while he never intentionally limited his relationships, it was easier to top when it came to casual hookups. Trust comes with knowledge, and the majority of Jared’s encounters never strayed beyond first names and “your place or mine?”
But Jensen’s intimately familiar with Jared’s personality at this point, and the same can be said for his body. This step isn’t the final frontier-Jared has the feeling Jensen can be endlessly creative when it comes to sex-but it’s a major milestone in the relationship, and now that Jensen’s said he’ll come back to Jared, he’s that much more comfortable giving himself over.
“God, Jared!” Jensen keens while Jared’s throat constricts around his cock. “If you keep that up, this is never going to happen.”
Jared smirks around his mouthful; no one said he had to be a submissive bottom. He fucking loves seeing/hearing/feeling Jensen fall to pieces around him, and he’d wanted a preview just in case his brain is incapable of remembering sensations later.
“Seriously,” Jensen groans, trying to pull Jared’s head away, “I might only have one round in me, and so help me God if you let me come-”
Jared pops off with a purposefully obscene slurp. “We definitely don’t want that,” he mocks, laughing as Jensen gets to his knees on the bed (which is finally seeing some action tonight) and pushes Jared onto his back. “You’d better make this a gold medal performance, so I’ll have something to remember you by.”
That taunt sends Jensen into motion. Their foreplay has been extensive, starting on the couch, clothes littering the hallways like a sordid treasure map, ending in the bedroom where, naked, Jared has teased and primed Jensen for the last half hour. The cock grinding into his upper thigh is harder than he’s ever felt it, slippery and hot, leaving streaks of precome on his skin. Jared doesn’t mind the mess-being marked-so swept up in the moment that every little sensation pulls him further into abandon. He wants; he wants it all so damn bad. His mouth is watering as Jensen kisses him with wide open lips, his words cut off before he can demand that Jensen fuck him already.
But Jensen gets the message. “You have no damn patience,” he mutters as Jared pushes him away and slaps around for the lube he’d set out earlier.
“Guess I thought you wanted to have sex,” Jared says, watching through half-lidded eyes while Jensen slicks his fingers.
“Just coming up with ways to torment you.”
Cool, blunt fingertips walk their way behind Jared’s balls, Jensen’s breath hot against Jared’s pointed knee. The position of their bodies takes some getting used to. On the rare occasions Jared has bottomed, he’s usually standing, pressed against a wall or bent over a table-anything to keep him pinned or make him appear smaller. Even flipped on his stomach, partly for comfort, Dylan had liked keeping pressure on his shoulders, pushing him into their sheets. But Jensen doesn’t restrict him, lets him lay back into the cushion of pillows and spread his legs while Jensen’s fingers twist and scissor within him. It’s open, exposed, but also reassuring. Jensen lets Jared move, lets him see the reactions as they cross Jensen’s face. If they had more time, Jared could imagine himself getting used to this.
“Three enough?”
It takes Jared a few seconds to reengage his brain and decipher what Jensen’s asking about. “Been a while,” he says, “but yeah, I’m good.” He means it; Jensen’s fingers leave no space for air, filling him up with steady strokes, glancing across his prostate every minute or so just to see Jared’s muscles seize with the pleasure that’s gradually cooling the burn of the stretch.
“Like this?” Jensen asks, kneeling up between Jared’s thighs.
Jared nods; for once, this position feels right. “Yeah, Jen. C’mon.”
But Jensen’s in no hurry as he takes the condom Jared laid out, slippery fingers struggling with the packet while he draws deep, measured breaths. Jared realizes that Jensen is taking pains to control himself, and that’s a whole new kind of turn-on.
“I want this,” he says, ready with intensity in his eyes when Jensen looks up. “I want to feel this after you’ve gone, and when I can’t feel it anymore, I’m gonna call you and tell you how much I miss it.”
Jensen curses, no more than a hiss escaping between his teeth, but Jared hears it and smirks. He doesn’t know which chunk of gray matter is responsible for the words-arousal or affection-but they keep coming.
“Like that idea? Me calling to tell you everything I’ve thought about doing to you?” Jared has to cut himself off when Jensen pushes in, the swimmer’s bottom lip slack as Jared does his best to take his dick in one stroke. He’s grateful when Jensen doesn’t pause-he wants to be filled as quickly as possible; start working through the strain and discomfort so they can get to the good stuff. Jared knows the burn will fade from this memory, leaving only the expression on Jensen’s face-wide-eyed and reverent-and finer details such as the way he can see Jensen’s elbows quaking as he holds himself over Jared, the sweat on his smooth chest.
“Promise to call,” Jensen says when he’s seated, “and I promise to let you do whatever you want to me when I get home.”
Jared throws his head back against his pillows as pain explodes into pleasure with a deliberate shift of Jensen’s hips. He’d forgotten about this part, prostate tripped like a landmine, when sensation’s stripped raw and consuming. A handful of random partners since Dylan, and Jared never felt like this with any of them. Part of him is glad he hadn’t, making this monumental in comparison.
“To you?” Jared quips once his lungs cooperate. “You’re just gonna lie there and take it?” And then his lips are smothered as Jensen kisses him silent, something Jared immediately realizes has been missing from this experience so far. Jensen refuses to relinquish possession of his mouth as he begins to rock in and out of Jared’s body (possibly to prevent him from teasing Jensen any more), but Jared can’t bring himself to care. He curls his tongue around Jensen’s and draws it deeper, the same way his body’s encouraging Jensen to thrust even harder.
Finally, Jensen breaks away. “You’d be disappointed if I did,” he says, joining Jared in mocking their first ‘date.’ His hips gain momentum, the bedspring symphony getting louder as Jensen really puts his back into fucking Jared through the mattress.
And it’s perfect. Jared never loses focus on the act-unable to drift off and romanticize about their physical connection. It’s too visceral, and gliding along the fine line between agony and ecstasy forces him to remain present. This time there are no anthems playing back in his mind, only groans and nonsensical whispers accompanying the creak and thud of Jared’s bed protesting the burden being placed on it. Jared’s cock is full again, the blood kept away by discomfort now pouring through the floodgates, leaving his dick hot and leaking where it slaps against his stomach.
Somehow missing that key piece of evidence, Jensen curls down over Jared’s torso, his lips bitten and blood-heavy, and asks, “Like that?”
Like? Jared can barely string together two coherent thoughts. The furthest he gets is a nod and a garbled plea for Jensen not to stop before the swimmer adjusts his angle; the resulting thrusts have Jared seeing the stars and stripes behind his eyelids. Not to mention the skin-friction surrounding his cock where it’s tightly confined between Jensen’s abs-of-steel and his own. Constant pressure, as good as a hand wrapped around his dick, drags Jared closer and closer to orgasm.
He might warn Jensen that he’s coming, or the words might be lost between overloaded synapses. Either way, Jared races to the finish ahead of Jensen. With medal-worthy accuracy, Jensen nails Jared’s prostate more than once as he’s coming apart, gifting Jared with the longest orgasm he can remember having (and one that’s sure to cost him a few brain cells).
He rides the high as long as he can, but bliss inevitably sours, and Jared can’t help wincing through Jensen’s next few deep pushes. And that, Jensen doesn’t miss.
“Fuck,” Jensen groans as he pulls out, eyes clenched shut. “Sorry.”
Grappling with arms and legs, Jared tries to pull Jensen back to him, panting. “No, no, no. I’ll be fine if you want to-”
But Jensen’s carefully peeling the condom off, folding down onto his hands and knees over Jared. “It’s okay, I know it can be uncomfortable, and I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, kissing Jared slowly while his unaffected erection drags along Jared’s stomach.
The feeling of Jensen’s cock painting pictures with Jared’s come gives him an idea, and before Jensen can properly catch his breath, Jared is licking his palm and shoving it down between them. “Come on me,” he says.
“Jared-”
“I want you to.”
And Jared figures Jensen can’t argue with that, so he begins stroking him off quickly, no thought given to ramping up the pleasure first. Jared goes right back to the speed with which Jensen had been fucking him, throwing a twist of his wrist in here and there and watching Jensen’s face flush redder. With that level of stimulation, it doesn’t take long for Jensen to come. In spurts that pull Jensen’s spine tight, warm drops falling on Jared’s stomach and spotting up along his sternum. Jared’s a mess, for sure, but it’s worth it to catch the flash of naked, unguarded affection and adoration in Jensen’s eyes. It illuminates what no amount of circular conversation could: Jensen cares about him. Maybe it goes even further, but Jared won’t ask for the words. Seeing it now, when Jensen’s unable to protect himself, is more than enough.
“God damn, that felt good.”
Jared’s in violent agreement and a contented sigh whistles past his lips as Jensen flops beside him on the bed. He feels the sweat beginning to cool under his back, shuffling towards a drier spot on the sheet which brings him closer to Jensen. They rest in companionable silence for a few minutes, nudging elbows every so often as they remember some very recent, very pleasant sensations, but Jared knows Jensen can’t linger long-his family (not to mention his coach) must be waiting for him.
So it’s comes as a shock when Jensen eventually rolls against Jared’s side and says, “I guess I’m buying breakfast in the morning.”
“Huh?”
Jensen props himself up on one elbow. “I’m the guest, not to mention I topped”-he adds with a smirk-“so I’m buying pancakes, right?”
It’s adorable that pancakes have already become their tradition, but Jared veers past that. “I didn’t think you’d be able to stay here tonight. Isn’t Jeff expecting you to be at home?”
Jensen yawns. “What’s it matter? Either way I’m in a bed, unless you want me to waste precious sleeping time driving back to my place. And I don’t plan on going anywhere in the morning without pancakes and a veggie omelet, so…”
Jared doesn’t let him get any further. Knowing he gets Jensen until the sun comes calling, he wraps the swimmer up in his arms and rolls them until Jensen’s curled up as the little spoon.
“Spooning?” Jensen huffs. “Really?”
“Shut up and go to sleep,” Jared replies, nuzzling against the back of Jensen’s neck, smelling beyond the sweat and ever-present chlorine to the man beneath.
“Better start being nicer to me,” Jensen says quietly. “Pretty soon, I’ll be a gold medalist.”
Jensen might be able to feel the smile on Jared’s face where it’s pressed against his skin, but he says nothing. And Jared has no doubt that Jensen’s life is about to change in some unbelievable ways, or that he’ll continue to be a part of it, no matter what.
EPILOGUE.
After his astronomical success at the Olympic trials, Jensen’s tapped for multiple endorsement deals, which isn’t a surprise given his on-and-off camera personality. Not to mention his looks, capable of emptying the wallets of millions of soccer moms and gay men across the USA. Jensen mocks the entire process and the resulting ads in texts, but Jared knows how grateful he is, needing the money to pay his coaches and travel expenses. Everything Jensen has is invested in swimming, but the endorsements will buy him a breath of freedom when London is over and the results are in the books.
Jared, well…Jared loves the endorsements. He makes it a point to grab dinner from Subway when he leaves the pool, and since his high school buddy Tyson is the night manager, he always walks away with Jensen’s face. Printed on a collector’s cup, that is. By the night of the opening ceremonies, Jared has six cups, and he emails a photo to Jensen every time he adds a new one.
But the commercials are the best part. The first time Jared sees Jensen’s shampoo commercial, he laughs. Hard not to when he’s listening to Jensen’s country-rough voice (slightly exaggerated) explaining his pre-race ‘confidence’ rituals, which apparently include moisturizing shampoo according to the thirty-second ad spot. After that though, Jared’s libido joins the program and notices that, yeah, Jensen’s naked down to his killer hipbones (strategic marketing decision-Jared now wants to spend his entire paycheck on this shampoo), which means seeing leagues of skin Jared hasn’t gotten to touch in weeks.
Jared watches the commercial over and over, chubs up every time it’s played during primetime coverage. Thank god he doesn’t have a roommate, because jacking off to a commercial probably lands in the territory of ‘weird’, but Jared can’t help himself.
Jensen. Naked. Wet. Rubbing himself. Jared’s hand is pushing into his loose jeans before he consciously knows he’s doing it, teasing his cock in thirty-second bursts. For the rest of his life, Jared’s going to own one hell of a shower fetish, but it’s hard to care when he’s this hard, suffocating his cock in the tight smother of his own grip while imagining Jensen’s there with him. In his fantasy, the swimmer is as wet as he is on the high-definition, LED screen, letting Jared grind against those slick, borderline-illegal hipbones, muttering all kinds of filth in counterpoint to his clean, fresh lips. The thought of rutting into those sculpted grooves brings Jared to the sharp drop quickly (thighs locked, ass up, barely touching the couch), and then he hears Jensen’s voice on television and orgasm tears through him like a shark through water. Fucking intense.
Jared blisses out for a full two minutes before he can refocus, realizing he’s sitting on the couch, pants open and come all over his fingers and belly, and Bob Costas is now on his screen. Costas has his moments, but no, this is not okay, and Jared quickly rolls off the sofa and hurries to the bathroom. (In the words of Finding Nemo: Good feeling gone!) When he comes back to primetime, they’ve finally circled around to the swimming events, and the rest of Jared’s night is set. Jensen might not be in the pool tonight, but he’s in the arena watching, and Jared wouldn’t miss a moment of coverage for the world.
~~~
On the day of Jensen’s 100-meter breaststroke final, Jared’s a wreck. He knows exactly what time the gun’s set to go off, but he keeps his phone in hand all morning; the minutes slink towards 2:15 at an agonizing pace. He’s jumpy, short-focused, and there’s a pit in his stomach, and all he has to do is watch the race. Jared can’t imagine what Jensen’s going through.
The texts Jensen had sent from London that morning were silly, irrelevant-focused anywhere but on the race of his life. His first medal race (hopefully to be followed by two more, the 200-meter breaststroke and the medley relay), and if he wins here it would silence the critics and doubters who believed he was too old to win at this level.
In the end, the race lasts less than a minute (the most torturous sixty seconds Jared has ever sat through) while his eyes are glued to the four-inch screen in his hands. The noises of the pool-splash, splatter, and swoosh-are smothered by the roar of the Olympic crowd through his tiny speakers, matched by the ringing in his ears. Jared holds his breath for the last fifteen meters, heart beating in rhythm with Jensen’s sculling strokes. And when the American flag pops up in Jensen’s lane along with a gold circle, Jared lets much more than just a breath go. All of the anxiety, melancholy, and stress he’s shouldered for nearly a month is released from his shoulders when he sees Jensen’s name at the top of the screen.
On the other side of the pool, Katie (hovering over her own phone) lets out a shriek that grabs everyone’s attention, and she wastes no time shouting the race results to the entire pool. When kids, teenagers, and adults begin cheering for their hometown son, Jared realizes he’s been crying, momentarily overwhelmed by happiness and unspeakable relief. Hoping no one sees, he discreetly wipes his eyes with his towel and turns back to the coverage on his phone, where Andrea Kramer has just pulled Jensen aside for a post-race interview.
”Jensen, this win has to mean so much to you.”
Jensen, red-faced and dripping from head to toe, flashes a mile-wide grin. His chest is still heaving with adrenaline and exertion as he says, “It definitely does. I worked hard to get here, but having so many people say I was too old to really have a shot at a medal only made me more determined.”
”Well, your work certainly paid off. This was also the first time you were able to outrace Kitajima in international competition. What does that mean to you?”
Jared rolls his eyes. Interviews are always so lame, but nothing short of a pool catastrophe could make him stop watching.
Jensen runs his fingers through his wet, spiky hair, green eyes sparkling as he waves to someone beyond the camera. “You know, Kitajima’s a great guy, and an incredible swimmer, and this is probably gonna motivate him even more to beat me in the 200 later this week, but what can I say? That’s how we work.”
”So besides silencing your critics and setting you up as a favorite in the 200-meter breaststroke, what’s the best thing about winning this gold medal?”
“Well…” Jensen reaches around to scratch the back of his neck, clearly debating his response, and Jared’s world narrows as he waits. He knows that expression on Jensen’s face-biting his lip, cheeks pulled in, consideration in his eyes-the swimmer’s about to drop something big. Jensen takes a deep breath and smiles again. “There’s a guy back in Texas who has to go out with me now that I’ve won a gold medal, so I’d say that’s pretty good.”
Andrea, naturally, is speechless. Her microphone sits under her lips, catching the rowdy sounds of the aquatic center while Jensen grins and waves to the fans still cheering his name. A second later, Jensen grabs the microphone and says, “If I win two golds, I’ll tell y’all who he is!”
He winks and disappears, leaving one stunned sports journalist in his wake. Jared can’t help laughing, tears back in his eyes because there’s no way he can contain the emotion washing over him. Another shriek from Katie draws Jared’s eyes up and he sees her gaping and pointing at him from across the pool.
“Jared!” she shouts. “Get your butt over here right now!”
And Jared just keeps on laughing, imagining what it feels like to win a gold medal. This, he figures, must come pretty damn close.
FIN.
Back to PART ONE.
notes. I started this while the Olympics were still on television, which tells you just how long it's been sitting around. Initially, it was meant to be a short story - a few vignettes connected, but then grew larger. Then, it was meant to be MORE involved, with cracks about Nathan Adrian's sexuality, the Call Me Maybe video, and phone sex during the trials in Omaha. But I've had such a busy season that the fic sat and lingered, and eventually I finished it with the epilogue instead, and I feel like I was able to do it justice this way.
And I absolutely must credit matalinolukaret for the 'Finding Nemo' line in the epilogue. She added it, it cracked me up, therefore it stayed :P
Thank you for reading! Comments and concrit are welcome and appreciated. Flailing about Jensen Ackles in a Speedo is also acceptable. ;)