(no subject)
Title: Just This Good
Author: Miss Kitty E.
Fandom: SPN RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,150
Disclaimer: I did not dream Jared and Jensen into existence, but I would have had they not already been running around being real people.
They spend the remainder of the drive with their hands resting together until inevitably Jared swings off the highway for his once denied cobbler. Warm and sweet, it's served in a Styrofoam container roughly the size of a bucket with a scoop of Blue Bell ice cream so big and heavy it makes a plopping sound when the girl drops it in. It's pretty damn good he has to admit, though he still lets Jared take his when his own is gone.
It's long after the lunch rush and still awhile before anyone comes in for dinner. They sit alone in the covered patio, on opposite sides of a picnic table, ceiling fans turning silently above them. A TV is on, mounted high up in the corner of the room, closed captions scrolling as ESPN rambles on about yesterday's game between the Yankees and the Red Sox. From the kitchen there's the faint sound of steel guitars on the radio, but Jensen can't hear the words or recognize the melody. Jared is pulling the little white plastic spoon slowly down from his mouth but it's not for show. In fact, he's almost betting that Jared will look up a few minutes from now and seemed surprised to find Jensen there, he's so gone.
He doesn't blame him. Jensen knows the scientific reasons why smell and taste are so closely tied together, knows how intimately they tangle with memory. All those old recollections overlapping, all those Jareds, past and present, crowding the empty room, it's easy to get lost. He can only see Jared, just turned twenty-six and sitting across from him, knee secretly pressed against his, but somewhere around here he can feel Jared, ten years old and jumping-excited to be getting a treat, and the teenager, too, with a big group of rowdy friends, feeling grown up because he's out of town without a parent. He's sure there's still another, twenty-four and sitting next to Sandy, begrudgingly sharing dessert because she didn't want her own.
It strikes him suddenly, how much sense Jared makes here. Jared's no country boy, not really. It's in his family, maybe, small town cousins and ancient, wizened aunts and uncles living old, flimsy houses out in the Hill Country, or tucked away up towards Oklahoma, but he's city-raised just like Jensen. He's never owned a horse that Jensen knows of, doesn't talk about hunting. The shape of his eyes, and the set of his mouth are different from that generic Texan face seen in small towns like this. Jensen, tall, bow-legged, and fair-colored, never looks like he doesn't belong here, but even if he tried, he'd never fit the way that Jared does without even realizing it.
The difference is pretty plain after today. Side by side the whole way through, they've seen the same things, met the same people, swam, walked, and rested in the very same places. Jensen just doesn't look out at the horizon in the same way, doesn't trust each new face is worth saying hello to, doesn't revel in the simple pleasures of canned peaches, bright sunshine, and cold, clear water the way Jared does. He swallows hard at the next logical thought. He doesn't love Texas the way that Jared does, won't miss it as much.
Jared's spoon starts scraping loudly at the bottom of his cup, his face a perfect model of concentration as he makes sure there's not a crumb of topping or a drop of melted ice cream left behind. When he's certain there's no more to be had, he sets his spoon down and sighs, happy and satisfied. He looks over at Jensen and Jensen pretends he's been watching the TV screen above Jared's right shoulder, disguises his disquiet as a glazed boredom.
"Ready?" Jared asks.
"Yeah," Jensen says, standing. All he wants to do now is go home.
Jared raises his hand at the cashier as they leave, tells her to have a great day. She's too young to have ever served Jared before but gets the same deference for doing it even once.
The drive back is quick, just about twenty minutes, all of them quiet. Tension doesn't start creeping up until Jared exits the highway, until the new and special of the day gives way to more mundane surroundings. Jensen catalogues the landmarks as they pass: the Exxon with the pricey gas, the dive bar with a nautical theme Jared thinks is hilarious and Jensen doesn't really care for, the Pik-N-Sav with the cheap gas and vaguely intimidating clerk, the restaurant he's been meaning to go to, the grocery store, Jensen's practice, closed for the day, the Catholic high school. A turn right and a turn left and then they're home.
Walking up the steps he knows he should say something, anything, big, little, important, trifling, but by the time he's slipping the key into the lock, he still hasn't thought of anything. The apartment is cool and still when he steps over the threshold, as if they'd been gone much longer. Jared goes into the kitchen, puts what little food is left in the bags away and feeds Dinah. Jensen slips off his sandals and walks down the hall. He undresses straight into the washing machine, shirts and shorts stiff and suddenly itchy now that they're completely dry.
He doesn't know Jared's behind him until the t-shirt sails past him and lands in the washer. He turns in time to watch Jared tug his shorts down and kick them up into his hand with a foot.
"You got a farmer's tan," he says finally. Not much, but it's what he was thinking. Jared's body is three shades now, caramel gold on his face, forearms and shins, lighter on his chest and thighs, with a clear line of the t-shirt on his biceps. There's another line, just as clear, on his belly right at the jut of his hipbones, marking where Jared is palest. Jensen traces his finger along it.
Jared draws him close, and Jensen goes, puts his arms around Jared's waist and thinks maybe he'll get kissed, but Jared just hums.
"You got a red neck."
Jensen's hand flies back to touch his nape and sure enough the skin is hot to the touch. "Dammit."
Jared laughs, moves Jensen's hand out of the away and kisses the curve of his neck, starting at the shoulder and moving up. Jensen is light-headed from the warm, strong smell of summer on Jared's skin and he can feel Jared's cock between them, nudging his hip as it swells. Jared kisses the corner of his jaw, brushes his mouth on Jensen's cheek, and says, right over his lips, "Let's take a shower."
Jensen nods and seals their mouths together for a brief, deep kiss.
A cold shower is pretty much a guaranteed mood killer, but when Jensen steps under the spray the touch of hot water to his burned skin makes him hiss. He twists the knob to the colder side of lukewarm and turns away from the showerhead. The cooler water soothes his back and he brings Jared's warm body against him to keep his erection from flagging. They kiss lazily, just getting used to the temperature of the water.
Jensen is happy to skip the soap and just stand under the spray until his skin feels clean, but he wants to scrub a little shampoo into his hair to get the dull residue of river scum washed out. Jared doesn't seem to be thinking of things like that, though, hands groping while his mouth nibbles at Jensen's neck. Jensen's breath is coming faster; if he doesn't pull away now, he'll forget all about it in the heat of things, and the very thought of taking a second shower before bed irritates his skin. He takes up the bottle, and squeezes some into his hands. The stifling sweet smell of the shampoo diffuses into the humid air between them as he rubs circles over his scalp. Jared does the same, hair taking new and interesting shapes with each pass of his hands.
Jensen tips his head back, lets the water flow through his hair. He's about to run his fingers through it when Jared comes against him and slides his palm from Jensen's forehead back to the nape of his neck. Jensen wants to open his eyes, wants to see Jared's face, but the water beading on his lashes keeps them shut. Jared's thumbs swipe up his temples and follow the curve of hair around his ears. Jensen's neck is noodle-limp, cradled in Jared's big hands, his breath slow and even.
He lets his head fall forward, shakes the water out of his eyes. Jared's still got a mess of foam in his hair, and they shift around carefully on the slick porcelain. Jared has to hang his head back and bend his knees to get under the spray. He rinses the shampoo from his hair vigorously, none of the tender care he took with Jensen. He touches Jared the whole time, taking advantage of the fact that Jared's hands are busy to drive him crazy. He visits all his favorite places, puts his hands on the broadness of Jared's shoulders, grips his thick, muscled arms, palms the swell of his ass, drags fingertips up the side of his thighs, brushes them over Jared's cock.
Jared pushes his hand through his hair one last time and then he comes down on Jensen, sudden and strong, takes his mouth, and steps flush up against him. Jensen wants more, of course he does. He's been hard since Jared stepped out of his shorts and now his cock is pressing into the heat of Jared's thigh and Jared's is digging into his stomach. Jared's thick, rounded fingertips slip into the crease between his cheeks and rub there. He moans and feels his body relax, wanting to open.
But he's glad, too, that Jared's finger circles and rubs but never press in, and that they're kissing with hardly any teeth, open and tender. His body is still worn out, bone tired, and the effort involved with honestly fucking in the shower - water washing away all the slick, struggling to get solid footing, losing sensitivity as skin becomes waterlogged - just doesn't appeal.
Instead he lets the flow of water down his body guide him, mouthing at Jared as he goes to one knee. He feels his kneecap roll under his skin, already protesting the hard floor of the tub. He knows he can't settle in the way he'd like, can't take his time, or devote a hundred percent of his attention to the task, but the shower spray hitting his face now and again and the unforgiving porcelain aren't enough to dissuade him completely.
He tongues the groove of muscle at Jared's pelvis, pointed tip running from the swell of bone beneath the skin down to his groin, and Jared juts his hips out a little, eager. He cups his palm along the back of Jensen's skull, but doesn't push, doesn't try to force him, and it only makes Jensen all the more coy. If Jared wants to try and be a gentleman, Jensen will act the part of the lady until he remembers that isn't what he signed up for.
He brushes his lips over the head, but doesn't open them, slides them down instead to lap at Jared's balls. He rubs his hand along the underside of Jared's cock, presses it against his stomach, giving him contact, but not exactly what he wants, not his mouth. His mouth is waiting, though, open if Jared will just put himself there. He looks up at Jared, fights to keep his eyes open despite the water raining down. Jared's watching, head bent down so far his neck is almost level with the ground, hair all around his face and dripping, as Jensen's tongue follows the rim of his cock, up one side to the point and the other.
He feels the fingers along the base of his skull tighten, Jared's other hand takes the base of his cock, puts it at the right angle to butt against Jensen's lips. He holds it there, plump and hot against Jensen's mouth and Jensen fights to keep from opening impatiently, from bobbing his forward. He keeps his mouth completely slack, pliant and ready, keeps his eyes trained on Jared. When he can't hold his breath any longer, he lets it out, blowing hot over the tip, and finally, Jared pushes in, push of the hips forward, pull of the hand on Jensen's skull back. Jensen's eyes shut, and his hands come up to Jared's hips and finish the job for him, pull him quick and greedy into his mouth.
It was his love of this, of cock, of sucking it that had pretty much sealed the deal on his somewhat optimistic claims to bisexuality in college. It wasn't exactly fair, but the girls he had dated and sometimes slept with were evidence in the case he made daily that he didn't have to acknowledge the other side of himself. It was like a person choosing vegetarianism for ethical reasons, he had reasoned. Doesn't mean he wouldn't like a nice, juicy steak, but he had chosen not to have it. He had chosen a life of tofu and lentils, so that's what made him happy.
That semi-unsound logic was blown away the first time a drunk, closet-case jock got Jensen on his knees. If Jensen had thought a life of good girls and best friends could be satisfying, he realized that night that he was actually starving. He's still so fucking hungry, but Jensen can take it slow now. Jared was a revelation in that respect. His perfect cock, the length allowing Jensen the anticipation of a long, slow descent and the sweetness of an endless pull up, the girth stretching his mouth wide, filling him completely, the weight of it, the velvet-soft skin over the rough texture of the veins delighting his tongue. Jared is filet mignon, something that can be savored, and nothing at all like quick, sometimes furtive, sometimes chance, but always vaguely unfulfilling couplings he used to binge on like a guilty pleasure.
Maybe it's all his thoughts getting twisted up in terms of food and appetite, but no matter how hard he sucks he can only get a hint of Jared's taste. His skin tastes like tap water, the summery smell of his skin, the salty sweat and bitter sun lotion washed clean away, nothing left but the tang of the precome Jensen draws from the tip. He shifts on his knee, feels the blood rush back to it, waking up unhappy nerves, and he pulls off Jared. Today was perfect and this should be perfect, too, but it can't be, not when he's thinking about what isn't there, what should be there. He stands, unsteady, and Jared grips his elbow, just to be safe.
Jensen shuts off the water, flings the shower curtain open and steps out. There's a towel on the rack, and he wipes it over Jared's chest, down his back. Jared takes it from him, throws it around Jensen's waist and draws him close. They kiss, Jensen wiping away the drops of water on Jared's shoulders as they fall from the ends of his curls, Jared dragging the towel up Jensen's back and down again. Even Jared's mouth tastes clean, he'll taste clean anywhere Jensen tries him, except one.
He leads them to the bed, and Jared stretches out and starts to pull Jensen down with him, but Jensen stops him. He puts one knee up onto the bed, takes Jared's shoulders and tugs, trying to turn him over. Jared hesitates, questions clear on his face. Jensen just keeps his hands gentle, but insistent. It's not more than a second that Jared pauses, just a moment before he lets Jensen lay him out, trusting. Jensen sits himself down on the cushion of Jared's ass, and kisses his shoulder, the same shoulder Jared kissed that morning to wake him.
He lifts his mouth and places it to the top of Jared's spine. He moves his body back, and his mouth follows. It's saccharine, he knows that, placing a line of kisses down Jared's body like he is, but he wants to let Jared come to the idea himself. He doesn't want to have to ask, to turn this into a porno flick moment with filthy talk. Even worse would be to try to have some mature conversation about it, kill the moment with negotiations and wheedling promises. So he just keeps moving down, down, until he's kneeling between Jared's legs and his mouth is lingering on the small of his back.
He glances up. Jared has lifted himself onto his elbows, looking back at him over his shoulder, curious but untroubled. Jensen lifts his mouth twice more, setting it down first on the dimple right at the top, then again, below that, right on the puckered skin beneath.
Jared goes completely still, and Jensen thinks maybe he should have said something after all, should have told Jared outright this isn't about topping him. They're still working through the list of things to do, and getting Jared to bottom is on it. They both know it, but it doesn't have to be today. He should say it now, maybe even admit he hasn't done this much, but he doesn't. He rubs soothing circles on Jared's back, parts his lips and licks, slow and easy and Jared can say no at any time.
He doesn't. Jared never does, never has. He keeps his neck twisted, watching Jensen for a long minute, but eventually his hips shift, jerk against the bed and he drops his head down, forehead pressed to his crossed arms. That's perfect right there, the trust it shows, and Jensen relaxes along with him, spreads Jared's cheeks and goes for what he's been after all this time. The skin on Jared's back had been fresh and flavorless, but here there is still something musky and genuine. The taste and smell, bitter and strong, is exactly what Jensen wants. He laps and sucks and Jared's hips thrust away from him, dig into the mattress and swing back. His legs move, hitching a knee up further on the beds, spreading wider.
Jensen drags his tongue back and forth for a long time until even that's not enough. Jared's been breathing hard for a while now and Jensen knew it wasn't just for his benefit, too quiet and shallow. But when the tip tongue breeches in Jared makes a sound so surprised, so unselfconscious, so unintentionally hot that it just ratchets everything a step further, a bit faster. This had been about lazy, Sunday afternoon fucking, taking time and paying attention to every little thing. Now Jensen is shifting forward, weight pinning Jared to the bed, fucking his tongue in nowhere nearly hard or deep enough.
He can't help it, hearing Jared mewl like that, open and wanting, sets him off. His thoughts degrade into incoherent snapshots of fucking, of hearing that noise again and again. He could find the lube wherever they dropped it last night, and replace the soft muscle of his tongue with the blunt, nimble thickness of his fingers, and then himself, driving in balls deep with everything he's got. He won't though, too much, too soon, but he lets those notions dictate the movement of his tongue, tries to somehow convey with just his mouth what it'll be like when they finally get to that.
And they will get to that, he hopes to hell that they get to everything. Every time before, Jensen's been left wanting more, wishing the guy had called, that he hadn't been an asshole, that the sex had been better. With Jared though, everything he wants comes to him in good time. That's why he's tongue fucking him now, taking his fill of Jared, real and unadulterated, even though, as usual, Jensen went about it the wrong way.
"God, Jensen." Jared gasps. "Jesus."
Jensen pulls away, wipes the corner of his mouth on Jared's skin, and rears back to rest on his heels. Jared's hips come off the bed, moving like he's trying to flip onto his back, but Jensen quickly covers him. Braced over Jared on his knees and the heel of one hand, he grabs Jared's hip with the other and hauls him up, tugs him back so they're flush together everywhere, thigh to thigh, hips to hips, Jensen's chest against Jared's back. He nestles his cock in the valley of Jared's ass, and reaches around to start jacking him.
Jared's back bends a little, dips down as he fucks into Jensen's hand. Jensen bites the hard edge of Jared's shoulder blades before he buries his face between them, grinding against Jared's ass while he strokes, listens to Jared's moans hitching higher, growing more breathless. All the muscles of Jared's back go rigid, and Jensen twists his fist at the top just to hear him whine again when he loses it.
They collapse by degrees, Jared first, kind of melting into a puddle on the bed, and Jensen after, landing on his side next to him. There's a stiff pair of boxers on the floor from last night, Jensen tries to be more fastidious about stuff like that, but it'd been a rushed morning, and anyway it comes in handy now. He's reaching back, wiping his palm when Jared turns his face to him, still flat on his stomach.
"Christ," he says, slurring with exhaustion.
Jensen would blush, but there's no embarrassment on Jared's face, no shock or surprise. He looks deeply content as he trails a hand, too light, too aimless over Jensen's chest.
"Come on," he says, impatient, rutting against Jared's thigh.
Jared laughs quietly as he moves over Jensen, slow and shaky. "Listen, you can't fuck me that good and expect instant recovery."
His face is all soft affection, none of Jensen's hunger, but his hand is taking Jensen up and that's a start. Jensen lifts his shoulders up to kiss him, and Jared sinks down on him to do that a while, kiss his mouth raw while stroking his cock gently, unhurried. Jensen groans, low and needy, and Jared laughs at him again, nuzzling his neck to nip at it.
He's about to start begging when Jared falls beside him and starts sliding down the bed. The too-loose hold of his hand is replaced by the perfect heat of his mouth and Jensen exhales a long, grateful sigh. Jared is single-minded with his blowjobs, doesn't linger over them like he does his hand jobs, doesn't care about doing it every possible way like when he fucks. Jensen buries his hands in the dark waves brushing low on his belly, brushing them off of Jared's forehead.
Jared eyes open, and he lifts up slow to smile at Jensen over the tip of his cock, and damn, if that's not enough to curl his toes, nothing is. Jared's tonguing the slit, a look on his face somewhere between bashful and cockhungry, and Jensen almost can't take it, not when he knows his is the only dick Jared ever sucked down like candy. His hips dart forward, just a centimeter or so, but still enough to make Jared shy away, laughing breathily.
His hands are still in Jared's hair and he knots his fingers in it. "Come on, fuckin'-" he pants, relaxes his hips back down to the bed and promises to be good.
Jared rubs the head over his lips, breath hot and moist and it takes all of Jensen's willpower to stay still, but he does and finally Jared's working him again, fist pulling up to meet his mouth as it comes down.
"Fuck."
Determination and enthusiasm comprise the bulk of Jared's technique, sucking hard, lips pressed tight around the shaft, and a steady one-two rhythm. He's got Jensen straining, orgasm close, but just out of reach. He needs more, wants it now, but he doesn't ask. Jared will get it. He closes his eyes, wanting to lose himself in the sensation, but still it eludes him. Time begins to drag, and Jensen's mind starts interfering, distracting him.
He feels himself slip from Jared's mouth but is not immediately reclaimed. Jared tugs at his hips, and Jensen opens his eyes, confused. Jared is moving back on the bed, pulling him up, and Jensen doesn't quite get until, God, it makes itself plain. He makes Jensen rise up, gets him kneeling on the bed. Jared sits back on his ankles, leaning forward to fist his hands in the covers, and the only way to do it like this is to fuck his mouth. Jensen feels a shiver crawl up his spine, as if his restraint were something physical that needed shaking off.
He lines himself up, goes in slow, slow as he can make himself go, holds himself still a moment, and does it again. Jensen watches himself going in and out, cock swollen and red and spit-shined, long enough to set his boundaries, to find the very edge of too far. He closes his eyes and fucks his hips forward in a rhythm just a shade faster than the one Jared set before. Jared's mouth is everything good, feverish heat and an easy glide, cheeks silky smooth, and tongue rough along the underside.
He has to struggle to keep the hand in Jared's hair relaxed, just petting, fingers slipping through the still wet strands, instead of grabbing a handful and holding on. His hips move a little faster, nudge too far, and he can feel Jared gag once, struggle. He tells himself he has to slow down, has to reign himself in, but Jared doesn't pull off, doesn't make him. He'd like to try and think about how he should be doing this, how he could make it easier, but the hot, wet pull of Jared's mouth keeps leaving him with nothing, but "Jared."
In the end, he can't stop himself from fisting his hand in Jared's hair and fucking in twice, too hard, but it's all over anyway. He fills Jared's mouth, sticky and thick, and needing to catch his breath, Jared hesitates to swallow. His lips stay sealed around, panting hard through his nose, while Jensen strokes his hair, his forehead, and cheeks with sated, blissful reverence. His breath finally caught, Jared has to clean the come off Jensen's cock in order to swallow it. The hard suck on sensitive skin and Jared's tongue swiping around makes him jerk and spill one last time. Jensen grunts, so wrung out it's almost painful.
Jared pulls off and wipes his mouth with the heel of his palm. He's half-hard, and Jensen groans again. Any other day he'd be determinedly teasing that into full arousal while Jared worked him open, giddy at the thought of getting fucked through the afterglow. But though the mind is willing, the body is weak. Swimming, hiking, and fucking, any one of those would have been enough to leave him tired, but all three have left him drained. He sinks down into the bed gratefully, limbs as useless and heavy as wet towels, and his head feels fuzzy, slow.
Jared sips a bottle of water left on the nightstand, swishes it around his mouth, swallows, and runs his tongue across his teeth. He drinks again, finishing it in one go. The bottle clatters with a plastic, empty sound when he puts it down, but he doesn't right it again, just flumps onto the bed next to Jensen. Jensen's still staring up at the ceiling, but he's not so out of it that he can't feel Jared's eyes on him.
Jared drags his knuckles up Jensen's side, entreating, and Jensen can't ignore it. He turns his head, and is struck by the sight of Jared bathed in late afternoon sunlight, red, raw lips quirked in a fond smile. Jensen kisses them, kisses that smile. Once, and then again, trying to convey what he doesn't want to say aloud. He puts his hand to Jared's face, tender and affectionate, but still it's a poor substitution. Of all the things he hasn't said today, this is something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for leaving out.
He pulls away, tries to look Jared in the face, but his eyes defy him, looking down shyly. "Thank you."
Jared laughs, "You're very, sincerely welcome."
"No, I mean for everything." Jensen moves back a little, tries to find his own space within their shared bed even though Jared's stretched out in the very middle of it. He can't think right when he's wrapped up in Jared. When they're no longer touching, he tries again. "This whole day was, it was... wonderful. Perfect, you know?"
Jared props himself up on an elbow and looks at Jensen intently, eyes sweeping down his features and up again. Jensen can't begin to guess what he's seeing there until he asks, quietly, "Then why do you look so torn up?"
He ducks his head to hide his apparently traitorous face and shrugs. Jared hunches his shoulders to keep eye contact, moving into Jensen's line of sight no matter where he tries to look. "It's just-" he blurts, suddenly. He stops, but Jared nods at him, waiting. "You really love it here."
"Yeah, well, it's my home," Jared says easily, like it's no big deal at all.
"That's it exactly," he says, but Jared tilts his head, curious, still not seeing what Jensen thinks is so obvious. Jensen sighs impatiently, "I just wonder if you'll be happy in California, too. You went there before and you came back."
Jared flops his head back onto the bed. "Jensen-" he sounds frustrated.
He scrambles to explain himself, to smooth over what he can't seem to help stirring up. "I know you said you were down with running away to LA or whatever, but-"
"What?" Jared asks, confrontational, clearly Jensen's failing.
"You don't have to." There. He said it.
Jared drops his eyes, shakes his head like he can't believe they're doing this again. "You keep showing me a way out, Jensen, and I'm going to think that you want me to go." He looks Jensen in the eye when he says it.
He wants to say "no" of course, say it fast and desperate so that Jared knows it's the last thing he wants. Instead he focuses on the knots tying themselves in his stomach while staring resolutely at Jared's collarbone.
Jared waits a while, but Jensen won't interrupt the silence. He sighs finally, "What would I do in Texas, huh? Keep taking bit parts in Austin? Hope I get a recurring role on Friday Night Lights? I want to go, okay? I have to go."
That's... pretty logical. Things shift back into a proper perspective, the things Jensen's blown out of proportion shrink back to a manageable size. "Okay," he says. "Yeah, that makes sense."
He doesn't feel better though and he tells himself he's tired. He closes his eyes and tries to relax the tension in his shoulders. He keeps perfectly quiet and still, knowing sleep is a long way off, hoping Jared will fall nod off first.
"Jensen?"
He doesn't answer right away, takes a few deep breaths. "Yeah?"
"I'd go anyway."
Jensen opens his eyes. Jared is looking him, eyelids drooping sleepily, but a stubborn set to his mouth.
"What?" His hoarse voice surprises him.
"I'd go anyway," Jared says again. "To California, or New York. Canada, South Korea, wherever the hell. I'm with you now."
Jensen nods too shallowly and for a little too long, wanting to appear composed, but he must look freaked or something, because Jared reaches out to him. He scooches over right into the space Jensen made for himself and there's nowhere left to go. It's either let Jared put an arm around his waist or land ass first on the floor. This close, with his head bowed, forehead on Jared's shoulder, his every breath is pulling in the scent between them, not the imitation coconut smell of suntan lotion or the shampoo's synthetic approximation of botanicals, no sweet hint of fresh grass or sterile smell of wet porcelain, just skin and sweat, his and Jared's.
"For you, too," he says, after a long enough silence that Jared's eyes have fallen shut.
"Hm?" Jared blinks his eyes open.
"If you wanted to stay, I'd stay. For you. That's what I was trying- that's what I wanted to say." That Jared would do the same makes him even more adamant about it.
Jared smiles, still half asleep like none of this shocks or surprises him. He nudges forward for a kiss, a quick purse of the lips. "Okay so, we'd go anywhere for each other. Good. Glad we got that cleared." He settles onto his back, and all but tugs Jensen against him like a blanket. "Can we nap now? I want a nap before my steak."
Jensen lays his head down on the pillow beside Jared's, rests his hand on Jared's stomach. "We're having steak tonight?"
"Mm-hmm. Your treat."
A smile curls his lips as Jensen slips his arm under his head, relaxing until his body fits against Jared's. "My treat?"
"I bought the cobbler, didn't I?"
"Big spender," he teases, pinching Jared's side to see him flinch, which he does, frowning crossly like a little kid. Jensen rubs his hand over it to make amends, and like a child, Jared is instantly soothed, sighing deep and content with his eyes closed as he waits for sleep to take him.
There's still one last thing bugging Jensen, something he can't leave unsaid. "Jared?"
"Yeah?"
Why he even has to say it is beyond him, he's already said it a couple times before and Jared would be the first to know if it ever stopped being true. But he's supposed to say it, sometimes people need to hear it. The possibility that Jared's been waiting all day to hear it weighs too heavily on Jensen to let himself pass it over yet again. "I love you."
Jared strokes his hand up Jensen's bicep, and doesn't gag at the sentimentality, doesn't make fun of him for stating the obvious, doesn't even seem all that relieved to hear it. He just squeezes his arm around Jensen briefly and says, easily, "Love you, too."
Endnotes: This story was a love letter written to J2 and to Texas. Hamilton Pool and the river that they go to (the Pedernales) are real places. I love both places and they have huge, huge significance in my life. They look like this:
The Pool: http://www.austinkayakfishing.com/hamilton_pool_01.gif
The River (looks a little like this): http://www.pedernalesplace.org/graphics/PP_flowing%20toward%20Hays-Co.jpeg
Author: Miss Kitty E.
Fandom: SPN RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,150
Disclaimer: I did not dream Jared and Jensen into existence, but I would have had they not already been running around being real people.
They spend the remainder of the drive with their hands resting together until inevitably Jared swings off the highway for his once denied cobbler. Warm and sweet, it's served in a Styrofoam container roughly the size of a bucket with a scoop of Blue Bell ice cream so big and heavy it makes a plopping sound when the girl drops it in. It's pretty damn good he has to admit, though he still lets Jared take his when his own is gone.
It's long after the lunch rush and still awhile before anyone comes in for dinner. They sit alone in the covered patio, on opposite sides of a picnic table, ceiling fans turning silently above them. A TV is on, mounted high up in the corner of the room, closed captions scrolling as ESPN rambles on about yesterday's game between the Yankees and the Red Sox. From the kitchen there's the faint sound of steel guitars on the radio, but Jensen can't hear the words or recognize the melody. Jared is pulling the little white plastic spoon slowly down from his mouth but it's not for show. In fact, he's almost betting that Jared will look up a few minutes from now and seemed surprised to find Jensen there, he's so gone.
He doesn't blame him. Jensen knows the scientific reasons why smell and taste are so closely tied together, knows how intimately they tangle with memory. All those old recollections overlapping, all those Jareds, past and present, crowding the empty room, it's easy to get lost. He can only see Jared, just turned twenty-six and sitting across from him, knee secretly pressed against his, but somewhere around here he can feel Jared, ten years old and jumping-excited to be getting a treat, and the teenager, too, with a big group of rowdy friends, feeling grown up because he's out of town without a parent. He's sure there's still another, twenty-four and sitting next to Sandy, begrudgingly sharing dessert because she didn't want her own.
It strikes him suddenly, how much sense Jared makes here. Jared's no country boy, not really. It's in his family, maybe, small town cousins and ancient, wizened aunts and uncles living old, flimsy houses out in the Hill Country, or tucked away up towards Oklahoma, but he's city-raised just like Jensen. He's never owned a horse that Jensen knows of, doesn't talk about hunting. The shape of his eyes, and the set of his mouth are different from that generic Texan face seen in small towns like this. Jensen, tall, bow-legged, and fair-colored, never looks like he doesn't belong here, but even if he tried, he'd never fit the way that Jared does without even realizing it.
The difference is pretty plain after today. Side by side the whole way through, they've seen the same things, met the same people, swam, walked, and rested in the very same places. Jensen just doesn't look out at the horizon in the same way, doesn't trust each new face is worth saying hello to, doesn't revel in the simple pleasures of canned peaches, bright sunshine, and cold, clear water the way Jared does. He swallows hard at the next logical thought. He doesn't love Texas the way that Jared does, won't miss it as much.
Jared's spoon starts scraping loudly at the bottom of his cup, his face a perfect model of concentration as he makes sure there's not a crumb of topping or a drop of melted ice cream left behind. When he's certain there's no more to be had, he sets his spoon down and sighs, happy and satisfied. He looks over at Jensen and Jensen pretends he's been watching the TV screen above Jared's right shoulder, disguises his disquiet as a glazed boredom.
"Ready?" Jared asks.
"Yeah," Jensen says, standing. All he wants to do now is go home.
Jared raises his hand at the cashier as they leave, tells her to have a great day. She's too young to have ever served Jared before but gets the same deference for doing it even once.
The drive back is quick, just about twenty minutes, all of them quiet. Tension doesn't start creeping up until Jared exits the highway, until the new and special of the day gives way to more mundane surroundings. Jensen catalogues the landmarks as they pass: the Exxon with the pricey gas, the dive bar with a nautical theme Jared thinks is hilarious and Jensen doesn't really care for, the Pik-N-Sav with the cheap gas and vaguely intimidating clerk, the restaurant he's been meaning to go to, the grocery store, Jensen's practice, closed for the day, the Catholic high school. A turn right and a turn left and then they're home.
Walking up the steps he knows he should say something, anything, big, little, important, trifling, but by the time he's slipping the key into the lock, he still hasn't thought of anything. The apartment is cool and still when he steps over the threshold, as if they'd been gone much longer. Jared goes into the kitchen, puts what little food is left in the bags away and feeds Dinah. Jensen slips off his sandals and walks down the hall. He undresses straight into the washing machine, shirts and shorts stiff and suddenly itchy now that they're completely dry.
He doesn't know Jared's behind him until the t-shirt sails past him and lands in the washer. He turns in time to watch Jared tug his shorts down and kick them up into his hand with a foot.
"You got a farmer's tan," he says finally. Not much, but it's what he was thinking. Jared's body is three shades now, caramel gold on his face, forearms and shins, lighter on his chest and thighs, with a clear line of the t-shirt on his biceps. There's another line, just as clear, on his belly right at the jut of his hipbones, marking where Jared is palest. Jensen traces his finger along it.
Jared draws him close, and Jensen goes, puts his arms around Jared's waist and thinks maybe he'll get kissed, but Jared just hums.
"You got a red neck."
Jensen's hand flies back to touch his nape and sure enough the skin is hot to the touch. "Dammit."
Jared laughs, moves Jensen's hand out of the away and kisses the curve of his neck, starting at the shoulder and moving up. Jensen is light-headed from the warm, strong smell of summer on Jared's skin and he can feel Jared's cock between them, nudging his hip as it swells. Jared kisses the corner of his jaw, brushes his mouth on Jensen's cheek, and says, right over his lips, "Let's take a shower."
Jensen nods and seals their mouths together for a brief, deep kiss.
A cold shower is pretty much a guaranteed mood killer, but when Jensen steps under the spray the touch of hot water to his burned skin makes him hiss. He twists the knob to the colder side of lukewarm and turns away from the showerhead. The cooler water soothes his back and he brings Jared's warm body against him to keep his erection from flagging. They kiss lazily, just getting used to the temperature of the water.
Jensen is happy to skip the soap and just stand under the spray until his skin feels clean, but he wants to scrub a little shampoo into his hair to get the dull residue of river scum washed out. Jared doesn't seem to be thinking of things like that, though, hands groping while his mouth nibbles at Jensen's neck. Jensen's breath is coming faster; if he doesn't pull away now, he'll forget all about it in the heat of things, and the very thought of taking a second shower before bed irritates his skin. He takes up the bottle, and squeezes some into his hands. The stifling sweet smell of the shampoo diffuses into the humid air between them as he rubs circles over his scalp. Jared does the same, hair taking new and interesting shapes with each pass of his hands.
Jensen tips his head back, lets the water flow through his hair. He's about to run his fingers through it when Jared comes against him and slides his palm from Jensen's forehead back to the nape of his neck. Jensen wants to open his eyes, wants to see Jared's face, but the water beading on his lashes keeps them shut. Jared's thumbs swipe up his temples and follow the curve of hair around his ears. Jensen's neck is noodle-limp, cradled in Jared's big hands, his breath slow and even.
He lets his head fall forward, shakes the water out of his eyes. Jared's still got a mess of foam in his hair, and they shift around carefully on the slick porcelain. Jared has to hang his head back and bend his knees to get under the spray. He rinses the shampoo from his hair vigorously, none of the tender care he took with Jensen. He touches Jared the whole time, taking advantage of the fact that Jared's hands are busy to drive him crazy. He visits all his favorite places, puts his hands on the broadness of Jared's shoulders, grips his thick, muscled arms, palms the swell of his ass, drags fingertips up the side of his thighs, brushes them over Jared's cock.
Jared pushes his hand through his hair one last time and then he comes down on Jensen, sudden and strong, takes his mouth, and steps flush up against him. Jensen wants more, of course he does. He's been hard since Jared stepped out of his shorts and now his cock is pressing into the heat of Jared's thigh and Jared's is digging into his stomach. Jared's thick, rounded fingertips slip into the crease between his cheeks and rub there. He moans and feels his body relax, wanting to open.
But he's glad, too, that Jared's finger circles and rubs but never press in, and that they're kissing with hardly any teeth, open and tender. His body is still worn out, bone tired, and the effort involved with honestly fucking in the shower - water washing away all the slick, struggling to get solid footing, losing sensitivity as skin becomes waterlogged - just doesn't appeal.
Instead he lets the flow of water down his body guide him, mouthing at Jared as he goes to one knee. He feels his kneecap roll under his skin, already protesting the hard floor of the tub. He knows he can't settle in the way he'd like, can't take his time, or devote a hundred percent of his attention to the task, but the shower spray hitting his face now and again and the unforgiving porcelain aren't enough to dissuade him completely.
He tongues the groove of muscle at Jared's pelvis, pointed tip running from the swell of bone beneath the skin down to his groin, and Jared juts his hips out a little, eager. He cups his palm along the back of Jensen's skull, but doesn't push, doesn't try to force him, and it only makes Jensen all the more coy. If Jared wants to try and be a gentleman, Jensen will act the part of the lady until he remembers that isn't what he signed up for.
He brushes his lips over the head, but doesn't open them, slides them down instead to lap at Jared's balls. He rubs his hand along the underside of Jared's cock, presses it against his stomach, giving him contact, but not exactly what he wants, not his mouth. His mouth is waiting, though, open if Jared will just put himself there. He looks up at Jared, fights to keep his eyes open despite the water raining down. Jared's watching, head bent down so far his neck is almost level with the ground, hair all around his face and dripping, as Jensen's tongue follows the rim of his cock, up one side to the point and the other.
He feels the fingers along the base of his skull tighten, Jared's other hand takes the base of his cock, puts it at the right angle to butt against Jensen's lips. He holds it there, plump and hot against Jensen's mouth and Jensen fights to keep from opening impatiently, from bobbing his forward. He keeps his mouth completely slack, pliant and ready, keeps his eyes trained on Jared. When he can't hold his breath any longer, he lets it out, blowing hot over the tip, and finally, Jared pushes in, push of the hips forward, pull of the hand on Jensen's skull back. Jensen's eyes shut, and his hands come up to Jared's hips and finish the job for him, pull him quick and greedy into his mouth.
It was his love of this, of cock, of sucking it that had pretty much sealed the deal on his somewhat optimistic claims to bisexuality in college. It wasn't exactly fair, but the girls he had dated and sometimes slept with were evidence in the case he made daily that he didn't have to acknowledge the other side of himself. It was like a person choosing vegetarianism for ethical reasons, he had reasoned. Doesn't mean he wouldn't like a nice, juicy steak, but he had chosen not to have it. He had chosen a life of tofu and lentils, so that's what made him happy.
That semi-unsound logic was blown away the first time a drunk, closet-case jock got Jensen on his knees. If Jensen had thought a life of good girls and best friends could be satisfying, he realized that night that he was actually starving. He's still so fucking hungry, but Jensen can take it slow now. Jared was a revelation in that respect. His perfect cock, the length allowing Jensen the anticipation of a long, slow descent and the sweetness of an endless pull up, the girth stretching his mouth wide, filling him completely, the weight of it, the velvet-soft skin over the rough texture of the veins delighting his tongue. Jared is filet mignon, something that can be savored, and nothing at all like quick, sometimes furtive, sometimes chance, but always vaguely unfulfilling couplings he used to binge on like a guilty pleasure.
Maybe it's all his thoughts getting twisted up in terms of food and appetite, but no matter how hard he sucks he can only get a hint of Jared's taste. His skin tastes like tap water, the summery smell of his skin, the salty sweat and bitter sun lotion washed clean away, nothing left but the tang of the precome Jensen draws from the tip. He shifts on his knee, feels the blood rush back to it, waking up unhappy nerves, and he pulls off Jared. Today was perfect and this should be perfect, too, but it can't be, not when he's thinking about what isn't there, what should be there. He stands, unsteady, and Jared grips his elbow, just to be safe.
Jensen shuts off the water, flings the shower curtain open and steps out. There's a towel on the rack, and he wipes it over Jared's chest, down his back. Jared takes it from him, throws it around Jensen's waist and draws him close. They kiss, Jensen wiping away the drops of water on Jared's shoulders as they fall from the ends of his curls, Jared dragging the towel up Jensen's back and down again. Even Jared's mouth tastes clean, he'll taste clean anywhere Jensen tries him, except one.
He leads them to the bed, and Jared stretches out and starts to pull Jensen down with him, but Jensen stops him. He puts one knee up onto the bed, takes Jared's shoulders and tugs, trying to turn him over. Jared hesitates, questions clear on his face. Jensen just keeps his hands gentle, but insistent. It's not more than a second that Jared pauses, just a moment before he lets Jensen lay him out, trusting. Jensen sits himself down on the cushion of Jared's ass, and kisses his shoulder, the same shoulder Jared kissed that morning to wake him.
He lifts his mouth and places it to the top of Jared's spine. He moves his body back, and his mouth follows. It's saccharine, he knows that, placing a line of kisses down Jared's body like he is, but he wants to let Jared come to the idea himself. He doesn't want to have to ask, to turn this into a porno flick moment with filthy talk. Even worse would be to try to have some mature conversation about it, kill the moment with negotiations and wheedling promises. So he just keeps moving down, down, until he's kneeling between Jared's legs and his mouth is lingering on the small of his back.
He glances up. Jared has lifted himself onto his elbows, looking back at him over his shoulder, curious but untroubled. Jensen lifts his mouth twice more, setting it down first on the dimple right at the top, then again, below that, right on the puckered skin beneath.
Jared goes completely still, and Jensen thinks maybe he should have said something after all, should have told Jared outright this isn't about topping him. They're still working through the list of things to do, and getting Jared to bottom is on it. They both know it, but it doesn't have to be today. He should say it now, maybe even admit he hasn't done this much, but he doesn't. He rubs soothing circles on Jared's back, parts his lips and licks, slow and easy and Jared can say no at any time.
He doesn't. Jared never does, never has. He keeps his neck twisted, watching Jensen for a long minute, but eventually his hips shift, jerk against the bed and he drops his head down, forehead pressed to his crossed arms. That's perfect right there, the trust it shows, and Jensen relaxes along with him, spreads Jared's cheeks and goes for what he's been after all this time. The skin on Jared's back had been fresh and flavorless, but here there is still something musky and genuine. The taste and smell, bitter and strong, is exactly what Jensen wants. He laps and sucks and Jared's hips thrust away from him, dig into the mattress and swing back. His legs move, hitching a knee up further on the beds, spreading wider.
Jensen drags his tongue back and forth for a long time until even that's not enough. Jared's been breathing hard for a while now and Jensen knew it wasn't just for his benefit, too quiet and shallow. But when the tip tongue breeches in Jared makes a sound so surprised, so unselfconscious, so unintentionally hot that it just ratchets everything a step further, a bit faster. This had been about lazy, Sunday afternoon fucking, taking time and paying attention to every little thing. Now Jensen is shifting forward, weight pinning Jared to the bed, fucking his tongue in nowhere nearly hard or deep enough.
He can't help it, hearing Jared mewl like that, open and wanting, sets him off. His thoughts degrade into incoherent snapshots of fucking, of hearing that noise again and again. He could find the lube wherever they dropped it last night, and replace the soft muscle of his tongue with the blunt, nimble thickness of his fingers, and then himself, driving in balls deep with everything he's got. He won't though, too much, too soon, but he lets those notions dictate the movement of his tongue, tries to somehow convey with just his mouth what it'll be like when they finally get to that.
And they will get to that, he hopes to hell that they get to everything. Every time before, Jensen's been left wanting more, wishing the guy had called, that he hadn't been an asshole, that the sex had been better. With Jared though, everything he wants comes to him in good time. That's why he's tongue fucking him now, taking his fill of Jared, real and unadulterated, even though, as usual, Jensen went about it the wrong way.
"God, Jensen." Jared gasps. "Jesus."
Jensen pulls away, wipes the corner of his mouth on Jared's skin, and rears back to rest on his heels. Jared's hips come off the bed, moving like he's trying to flip onto his back, but Jensen quickly covers him. Braced over Jared on his knees and the heel of one hand, he grabs Jared's hip with the other and hauls him up, tugs him back so they're flush together everywhere, thigh to thigh, hips to hips, Jensen's chest against Jared's back. He nestles his cock in the valley of Jared's ass, and reaches around to start jacking him.
Jared's back bends a little, dips down as he fucks into Jensen's hand. Jensen bites the hard edge of Jared's shoulder blades before he buries his face between them, grinding against Jared's ass while he strokes, listens to Jared's moans hitching higher, growing more breathless. All the muscles of Jared's back go rigid, and Jensen twists his fist at the top just to hear him whine again when he loses it.
They collapse by degrees, Jared first, kind of melting into a puddle on the bed, and Jensen after, landing on his side next to him. There's a stiff pair of boxers on the floor from last night, Jensen tries to be more fastidious about stuff like that, but it'd been a rushed morning, and anyway it comes in handy now. He's reaching back, wiping his palm when Jared turns his face to him, still flat on his stomach.
"Christ," he says, slurring with exhaustion.
Jensen would blush, but there's no embarrassment on Jared's face, no shock or surprise. He looks deeply content as he trails a hand, too light, too aimless over Jensen's chest.
"Come on," he says, impatient, rutting against Jared's thigh.
Jared laughs quietly as he moves over Jensen, slow and shaky. "Listen, you can't fuck me that good and expect instant recovery."
His face is all soft affection, none of Jensen's hunger, but his hand is taking Jensen up and that's a start. Jensen lifts his shoulders up to kiss him, and Jared sinks down on him to do that a while, kiss his mouth raw while stroking his cock gently, unhurried. Jensen groans, low and needy, and Jared laughs at him again, nuzzling his neck to nip at it.
He's about to start begging when Jared falls beside him and starts sliding down the bed. The too-loose hold of his hand is replaced by the perfect heat of his mouth and Jensen exhales a long, grateful sigh. Jared is single-minded with his blowjobs, doesn't linger over them like he does his hand jobs, doesn't care about doing it every possible way like when he fucks. Jensen buries his hands in the dark waves brushing low on his belly, brushing them off of Jared's forehead.
Jared eyes open, and he lifts up slow to smile at Jensen over the tip of his cock, and damn, if that's not enough to curl his toes, nothing is. Jared's tonguing the slit, a look on his face somewhere between bashful and cockhungry, and Jensen almost can't take it, not when he knows his is the only dick Jared ever sucked down like candy. His hips dart forward, just a centimeter or so, but still enough to make Jared shy away, laughing breathily.
His hands are still in Jared's hair and he knots his fingers in it. "Come on, fuckin'-" he pants, relaxes his hips back down to the bed and promises to be good.
Jared rubs the head over his lips, breath hot and moist and it takes all of Jensen's willpower to stay still, but he does and finally Jared's working him again, fist pulling up to meet his mouth as it comes down.
"Fuck."
Determination and enthusiasm comprise the bulk of Jared's technique, sucking hard, lips pressed tight around the shaft, and a steady one-two rhythm. He's got Jensen straining, orgasm close, but just out of reach. He needs more, wants it now, but he doesn't ask. Jared will get it. He closes his eyes, wanting to lose himself in the sensation, but still it eludes him. Time begins to drag, and Jensen's mind starts interfering, distracting him.
He feels himself slip from Jared's mouth but is not immediately reclaimed. Jared tugs at his hips, and Jensen opens his eyes, confused. Jared is moving back on the bed, pulling him up, and Jensen doesn't quite get until, God, it makes itself plain. He makes Jensen rise up, gets him kneeling on the bed. Jared sits back on his ankles, leaning forward to fist his hands in the covers, and the only way to do it like this is to fuck his mouth. Jensen feels a shiver crawl up his spine, as if his restraint were something physical that needed shaking off.
He lines himself up, goes in slow, slow as he can make himself go, holds himself still a moment, and does it again. Jensen watches himself going in and out, cock swollen and red and spit-shined, long enough to set his boundaries, to find the very edge of too far. He closes his eyes and fucks his hips forward in a rhythm just a shade faster than the one Jared set before. Jared's mouth is everything good, feverish heat and an easy glide, cheeks silky smooth, and tongue rough along the underside.
He has to struggle to keep the hand in Jared's hair relaxed, just petting, fingers slipping through the still wet strands, instead of grabbing a handful and holding on. His hips move a little faster, nudge too far, and he can feel Jared gag once, struggle. He tells himself he has to slow down, has to reign himself in, but Jared doesn't pull off, doesn't make him. He'd like to try and think about how he should be doing this, how he could make it easier, but the hot, wet pull of Jared's mouth keeps leaving him with nothing, but "Jared."
In the end, he can't stop himself from fisting his hand in Jared's hair and fucking in twice, too hard, but it's all over anyway. He fills Jared's mouth, sticky and thick, and needing to catch his breath, Jared hesitates to swallow. His lips stay sealed around, panting hard through his nose, while Jensen strokes his hair, his forehead, and cheeks with sated, blissful reverence. His breath finally caught, Jared has to clean the come off Jensen's cock in order to swallow it. The hard suck on sensitive skin and Jared's tongue swiping around makes him jerk and spill one last time. Jensen grunts, so wrung out it's almost painful.
Jared pulls off and wipes his mouth with the heel of his palm. He's half-hard, and Jensen groans again. Any other day he'd be determinedly teasing that into full arousal while Jared worked him open, giddy at the thought of getting fucked through the afterglow. But though the mind is willing, the body is weak. Swimming, hiking, and fucking, any one of those would have been enough to leave him tired, but all three have left him drained. He sinks down into the bed gratefully, limbs as useless and heavy as wet towels, and his head feels fuzzy, slow.
Jared sips a bottle of water left on the nightstand, swishes it around his mouth, swallows, and runs his tongue across his teeth. He drinks again, finishing it in one go. The bottle clatters with a plastic, empty sound when he puts it down, but he doesn't right it again, just flumps onto the bed next to Jensen. Jensen's still staring up at the ceiling, but he's not so out of it that he can't feel Jared's eyes on him.
Jared drags his knuckles up Jensen's side, entreating, and Jensen can't ignore it. He turns his head, and is struck by the sight of Jared bathed in late afternoon sunlight, red, raw lips quirked in a fond smile. Jensen kisses them, kisses that smile. Once, and then again, trying to convey what he doesn't want to say aloud. He puts his hand to Jared's face, tender and affectionate, but still it's a poor substitution. Of all the things he hasn't said today, this is something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for leaving out.
He pulls away, tries to look Jared in the face, but his eyes defy him, looking down shyly. "Thank you."
Jared laughs, "You're very, sincerely welcome."
"No, I mean for everything." Jensen moves back a little, tries to find his own space within their shared bed even though Jared's stretched out in the very middle of it. He can't think right when he's wrapped up in Jared. When they're no longer touching, he tries again. "This whole day was, it was... wonderful. Perfect, you know?"
Jared props himself up on an elbow and looks at Jensen intently, eyes sweeping down his features and up again. Jensen can't begin to guess what he's seeing there until he asks, quietly, "Then why do you look so torn up?"
He ducks his head to hide his apparently traitorous face and shrugs. Jared hunches his shoulders to keep eye contact, moving into Jensen's line of sight no matter where he tries to look. "It's just-" he blurts, suddenly. He stops, but Jared nods at him, waiting. "You really love it here."
"Yeah, well, it's my home," Jared says easily, like it's no big deal at all.
"That's it exactly," he says, but Jared tilts his head, curious, still not seeing what Jensen thinks is so obvious. Jensen sighs impatiently, "I just wonder if you'll be happy in California, too. You went there before and you came back."
Jared flops his head back onto the bed. "Jensen-" he sounds frustrated.
He scrambles to explain himself, to smooth over what he can't seem to help stirring up. "I know you said you were down with running away to LA or whatever, but-"
"What?" Jared asks, confrontational, clearly Jensen's failing.
"You don't have to." There. He said it.
Jared drops his eyes, shakes his head like he can't believe they're doing this again. "You keep showing me a way out, Jensen, and I'm going to think that you want me to go." He looks Jensen in the eye when he says it.
He wants to say "no" of course, say it fast and desperate so that Jared knows it's the last thing he wants. Instead he focuses on the knots tying themselves in his stomach while staring resolutely at Jared's collarbone.
Jared waits a while, but Jensen won't interrupt the silence. He sighs finally, "What would I do in Texas, huh? Keep taking bit parts in Austin? Hope I get a recurring role on Friday Night Lights? I want to go, okay? I have to go."
That's... pretty logical. Things shift back into a proper perspective, the things Jensen's blown out of proportion shrink back to a manageable size. "Okay," he says. "Yeah, that makes sense."
He doesn't feel better though and he tells himself he's tired. He closes his eyes and tries to relax the tension in his shoulders. He keeps perfectly quiet and still, knowing sleep is a long way off, hoping Jared will fall nod off first.
"Jensen?"
He doesn't answer right away, takes a few deep breaths. "Yeah?"
"I'd go anyway."
Jensen opens his eyes. Jared is looking him, eyelids drooping sleepily, but a stubborn set to his mouth.
"What?" His hoarse voice surprises him.
"I'd go anyway," Jared says again. "To California, or New York. Canada, South Korea, wherever the hell. I'm with you now."
Jensen nods too shallowly and for a little too long, wanting to appear composed, but he must look freaked or something, because Jared reaches out to him. He scooches over right into the space Jensen made for himself and there's nowhere left to go. It's either let Jared put an arm around his waist or land ass first on the floor. This close, with his head bowed, forehead on Jared's shoulder, his every breath is pulling in the scent between them, not the imitation coconut smell of suntan lotion or the shampoo's synthetic approximation of botanicals, no sweet hint of fresh grass or sterile smell of wet porcelain, just skin and sweat, his and Jared's.
"For you, too," he says, after a long enough silence that Jared's eyes have fallen shut.
"Hm?" Jared blinks his eyes open.
"If you wanted to stay, I'd stay. For you. That's what I was trying- that's what I wanted to say." That Jared would do the same makes him even more adamant about it.
Jared smiles, still half asleep like none of this shocks or surprises him. He nudges forward for a kiss, a quick purse of the lips. "Okay so, we'd go anywhere for each other. Good. Glad we got that cleared." He settles onto his back, and all but tugs Jensen against him like a blanket. "Can we nap now? I want a nap before my steak."
Jensen lays his head down on the pillow beside Jared's, rests his hand on Jared's stomach. "We're having steak tonight?"
"Mm-hmm. Your treat."
A smile curls his lips as Jensen slips his arm under his head, relaxing until his body fits against Jared's. "My treat?"
"I bought the cobbler, didn't I?"
"Big spender," he teases, pinching Jared's side to see him flinch, which he does, frowning crossly like a little kid. Jensen rubs his hand over it to make amends, and like a child, Jared is instantly soothed, sighing deep and content with his eyes closed as he waits for sleep to take him.
There's still one last thing bugging Jensen, something he can't leave unsaid. "Jared?"
"Yeah?"
Why he even has to say it is beyond him, he's already said it a couple times before and Jared would be the first to know if it ever stopped being true. But he's supposed to say it, sometimes people need to hear it. The possibility that Jared's been waiting all day to hear it weighs too heavily on Jensen to let himself pass it over yet again. "I love you."
Jared strokes his hand up Jensen's bicep, and doesn't gag at the sentimentality, doesn't make fun of him for stating the obvious, doesn't even seem all that relieved to hear it. He just squeezes his arm around Jensen briefly and says, easily, "Love you, too."
Endnotes: This story was a love letter written to J2 and to Texas. Hamilton Pool and the river that they go to (the Pedernales) are real places. I love both places and they have huge, huge significance in my life. They look like this:
The Pool: http://www.austinkayakfishing.com/hamilton_pool_01.gif
The River (looks a little like this): http://www.pedernalesplace.org/graphics/PP_flowing%20toward%20Hays-Co.jpeg
