Fic - "The Long Haul" | J2 AU | PG-13
The Long Haul
J2 AU; 2750 words; PG-13
Jensen hires a mover.
Random AU is random. Thank you so much to girlmostlikely, missyjack and larienelengasse for being amazing and wonderful and offering their help and advice so that this is an actual story and not merely a pile of stupid words on the computer screen. LOVE. You should probably all get co-author credit on this thing. I think we should all just be thankful I didn't title this: You Move Me.
Also, point of interest: this is my 1000th post. I didn't even PLAN THAT.
Jensen moves out on a Tuesday.
It's his one free day off during the summer, when he's not doing research or tutoring students who failed Sociology 101. The day is so hot he's actually afraid he might melt, nearly half of his crap won't fit properly into his boxes, and he hasn't really had enough coffee to deal with the strangers he hired to transport him from point A to point B.
He's using guys Steve recommended on the assurance that they were fast and cheap - two qualities pretty much mandatory given Jensen's meager pay and his need to be out of David's place, like, yesterday, and the one he already met - the scrawny one who smelled a little like weed - did not make a totally promising first impression.
"Anything fragile in these?" says a friendly voice behind him.
Jensen doesn't turn around, just shakes his head from his position crouched down low to re-tape up a box of his stuff. When he'd tried to move the same box earlier that morning, the bottom had fallen out. "Books," he says.
"That's a lot a' books," notes the voice.
Jensen makes a noise, too busy slicing through the tape using only his teeth to reply.
"Who needs this many books?"
The glue from the tape is sticky on Jensen's tongue, and he scrapes it against his teeth. "Grad students," he supplies eventually.
"Cool," the voice says. Jensen hears a grunt. He spins around just in time to see shoulders - very broad shoulders stacked over narrow hips - carry two big, heavy boxes filled to bursting with books out his soon-to-be-ex doorway. The guy doesn't even strain under the weight.
Jensen blinks.
*
"Steve said you had to be out quick," the guy with the shoulders comments as they stand in the dimly lit hallway. He'd introduced himself just a minute ago as Jared when he'd clasped Jensen's hand, and Jensen decidedly had not noticed the calluses or the fact that the guy's hand was nearly as big as his face.
Jensen nods. He jerks a thumb behind him toward the apartment. "Ex's," he explains, watching as Jared frowns. He has long hair that falls in his eyes, the sort of hair that always looks stupid and floppy, only somehow he makes it look effortless and attractive. Jensen looks away.
"You and your girlfriend breaking up?" Jared asks, and he squints as if he's looking for what went wrong and he can see it just by studying Jensen.
Hesitating, Jensen finally says, "Boyfriend, actually. And we, ah, broke up a while ago."
Jared looks him in the eyes. "Oh," he says. "That's too bad."
Jensen says, "Yeah," only he isn't sure he means it.
Jared peers around him into the apartment. "What else needs to go?"
The place looks like a bomb went off. "That pile," Jensen says, pointing. "And that one, and, um, that one."
If Jared's surprised that Jensen's still got more stuff out of boxes than in, he doesn't let it show. He immediately hands Jensen a broken-down box and the tape gun. "I'm awesome at packing," he tells Jensen, knees creaking as he bends to put pile A - contents from the dresser drawers Jensen had upended onto the floor - neatly into a box. "Comes with the territory, I guess."
"I don't think that's all gonna fit," Jensen points out, taping up the box in his hands.
Jared grins. "Sure it will."
Jensen moves to help him. Jared's t-shirt stretches across his back as he twists around and he already smells like sweat and something citrus-y, probably his cologne. He keeps up a fairly steady stream of conversation. "If you don't mind my asking, you said you and your boyfriend broke up a while ago. Why're you just moving out now?"
Jensen follows Jared's lead and rolls his socks into tidy little balls before lining them up in the box. "David - my ex - he's been gone all summer on a dig in Wyoming. He comes back tomorrow for school."
"And you're not supposed to be here?"
"Might make things awkward."
"What with you not being together any more."
"And with him telling me to go to Hell. Which I didn't do. He might get mad at that."
Jared laughs, this big sound that Jensen's somehow glad he made happen. Jensen looks down. The whole pile is packed neatly into one box.
*
Steve had asked, "Why are you the one who's moving out again?" to which Jensen had answered, "It's the break up rule. You do the breaking up, you have to do the moving out."
Jensen has thirty-six boxes. A few of them hold dishes and clothes and an old set of pots and pans his mama dug out of the attic for him four years ago. One of them contains CDs and old mix tapes he never got around to throwing out. One has old school trophies, spelling bee ribbons, yearbooks and photo albums, including the scrapbook Mac made when he moved away for college six and a half years ago. The rest carry books.
There's not much else. He has a fake fichus that manages to look like it's dying despite being, well, fake; an ugly orange La-Z-Boy that's easily the most comfortable chair on the planet; and three floor-to-ceiling bookcases, empty now, and waiting in the hallway to be moved into the truck.
He has a gold fish named Alvin who swims 'round and 'round in his cheap plastic bowl. Jensen stares at him. He doesn't stop swimming.
"I think that's all of the boxes," Jared says as he ducks into the apartment.
Jensen eyes the place. It doesn't feel that different with his stuff gone. Behind him, he can feel Jared's eyes on him and Jensen nods once in acknowledgement. In a frame on the beat-up wooden table by the couch, there's a picture of him and David taken back when they were still in undergrad, when they were friends and when Jensen thought nothing could come between them. Their smiles look young. It feels so long ago.
Jensen forces himself to look away. Jared doesn't smile when Jensen meets his eyes. Instead he says, "You need a minute?"
Shaking his head, Jensen says, "Nah. Thanks, though."
Jared shrugs. "Is that a picture of you and David?" he asks, pointing to the shot.
Jensen nods.
Jared does smile then, saying, "You know, when my baby sister broke up with her first boyfriend, she burned all the pictures of him she had, and I think she regrets it now."
"Er…okay."
Jared, who Jensen just met an hour ago, who Jensen's paying to move him out of his ex-boyfriend's apartment, picks up the frame and thrusts it into Jensen's hands. "You should take it," he comments. "Someday, you might want it." He nods his head toward Alvin suddenly. "Fish going too?"
Jensen bobs his head.
Jared says, "Neat," and carries Alvin out, huge palm wrapped around the bottom of the clear bowl.
*
"Let's go, girls. We don't have a lot of time," Jason - the scrawny one - calls, as he climbs into the moving truck. He's a wiry looking guy with squinty eyes. He chews gum loudly and carries way more boxes than he should be able to, all the while wearing a white T-shirt with the arms cut off.
Jensen's leaning over to strap Alvin into the front seat of his faded blue Camry when Jared surprises him by saying, "You mind if I ride with you? Jason smokes."
Jensen looks up. Jared's standing directly in front of the sun, so Jensen can't see the expression on his face. It's so hot Jensen can feel his shirt stick to his back, and he hears the moving van start up with a slow, steady whine.
He eyes Jared's long legs. "You might not fit," he admits.
"I'm bendy," Jared promises, dipping his knees as if to prove his point.
"You'll have to hold Alvin."
Jared says, "Yeah. I think I can do that."
It's a twenty-minute drive to Jensen's new place - nearly clear across town because he had to find somewhere to live in a hurry. He turns the air on full blast when he starts up the engine. Jared squints into the sun and starts making faces in Alvin's direction.
Jensen doesn't turn the radio on. He smiles.
*
On the way over, Jared asks, "So, grad school for what?"
Jensen keeps his eyes on the road. "Cultural Anthropology."
"What are you gonna do with that?"
Jensen shakes his head. "I have no idea," he answers honestly.
He's only known Jared for two hours, but he can hear the smile in Jared's voice just the same. "Well, at least you have a plan."
Jensen gives an easy laugh.
Jared is a long expanse of tanned skin. His smile is white and even. He fiddles with the air vents and explains about feeling lost when he first moved to the city for college, about how he met Jason and took time off to start up a small business and how much he likes helping people sort out their lives.
Jensen finds himself nodding along. At a stoplight he looks over to find Jared's eyes on him. He feels nervous and clumsy and grips the steering wheel tightly. The sun shines brightly through the windshield, and he can't seem to move his gaze away from Jared's face.
A car behind him honks when the light turns, startling Jensen into looking back at the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jared smile.
*
It takes forty-seven minutes for the three of them to move Jensen's belongings from the truck to the apartment. Alvin's hanging out on the window ledge where Jared deposited him, deciding he looked comfortable.
It's a one-bedroom apartment. Jensen doesn't even have a bed yet, and instead intends to blow up the air mattress he bought at Target two days ago. He also bought green cotton sheets he found on sale and a set of two down pillows that felt fluffy and indulgent.
He looks around. The walls are bare. It doesn't feel empty though, just uncluttered.
Jared's standing in the sunlight. He's so sweaty his hair is sticking to his temples, and Jensen can see his armpit stains, and the way his shirt sticks against his stomach.
He coughs. "You, ah, want something to drink? I have… water."
Jared's smile is wide and grateful. "I could actually use a beer," he comments, while Jensen roots around in one of the few boxes marked KITCHEN to find a cup.
Jensen nods. "I could go get some beer."
Jared says, "I can help you unpack."
*
When David finally told him to leave, he'd accused Jensen of checking out of the relationship a long time ago. Jensen had had a hard time disagreeing.
Jared asks, "Why didn't it work out?" and Jensen has to think for a minute. When his mama asked the same question three weeks ago, Jensen gave her a tired platitude about growing apart, which hadn't been entirely true.
Jensen finally shrugs. "Everything was just… hard," he says.
He sees Jared's lips tug up into a smirk. "I thought that was s'pposed to be a good thing."
Jensen laughs, throwing a bottle cap at Jared's face. "Everything else was hard," he corrects.
Jared quickly grows serious. "How so?"
Jensen shrugs again. "It was just always a struggle, you know? Even our friendship was a struggle." He blows out a breath. "There was always this…pit of dread in my stomach when I thought about him. I never felt totally comfortable, totally sure, I guess. I know relationships aren't always easy but -" Jensen feels like he's not explaining it right. He lets out a frustrated sound, but Jared's nodding like he gets it anyway.
"It shouldn't be work all the time," Jared finishes. "There should be fun times, too."
Jensen meets his eyes. "Yeah."
The sun is setting now, and the world beyond Jensen's window is hazy and orange. There's a pile of empty boxes stacked in the corner, and Jensen's sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall, knees pulled up.
Jason left a while ago, taking the van with him. At the time, Jensen had promised to drive Jared wherever he needed to be.
Right now, Jensen's not sure he could move if his life depended on it. It's the first time since the start of summer he's felt loose and content, without something sick twisting in his stomach.
He smiles at Jared, who's leaning forward from his spot in the La-Z-Boy.
"This is gonna seem a little presumptuous," Jared says.
"How so?"
Jared meets his eyes. "You just got out of a serious relationship."
Jensen hums, noncommittal. He waits with anticipation strumming along his skin, like he's got plastic wrap stretched around his chest, as Jared shifts from the chair to the floor, until he's lined up shoulder to shoulder with Jensen.
"But, ah," Jared continues. "Would you maybe want to go out with me sometime?"
Jensen lets the question sit for a minute before smiling. "Yeah."
He watches the dimples in Jared's cheeks when Jared's smile goes wide and bright.
"I mean on a date," Jared clarifies. He eyes are focused on Jensen's lips now, making the room go hot and bright and sharp.
"I got that," Jensen answers, a little breathless.
"Because I think I might kiss you now," Jared says.
"I got that too," Jensen returns, just as Jared's lips press against his own.
Jared's hands twist into Jensen's t-shirt. Jensen sucks in his breath and licks at Jared's mouth and murmurs, "There's a bedroom."
He can feel Jared smile. "I saw," he says, getting up and pulling Jensen with him.
"There's no bed, though," Jensen says, feeling a little foolish.
Jared pushes him against the wall. "We can make do."
Jared's touch is confident. His hands are wide and calloused and one cups the back of Jensen's head, pulling him into the kiss.
Jensen kisses into Jared's mouth, and he tastes like the pizza they ate not half an hour ago. He's warm and smooth, and when Jensen gets his hands on Jared's bare stomach, Jared makes a sound like it's the best thing he's ever felt. He makes Jensen dizzy. The kisses are slow and lazy, with the sun a slip-shimmer falling into the horizon, and Jensen's radio a low buzz in the background. Their bodies curl into each other, and when Jared gets his hand spread wide on the small of Jensen's back, everything inside Jensen goes liquid and hot, as he lets Jared shift his body this way and that to put Jensen on his back.
This doesn't feel like a one time thing.
"I don't want to be a rebound," Jared murmurs, pressing his lips to Jensen's thigh right through Jensen's jeans, like he could read Jensen's mind.
Jensen gasps, feeling a wet, hot tongue tease at his waistband, making his stomach contract. Jensen feels his head snap back against the floor beneath him. He shifts restlessly, and murmurs, "Okay," as he pushes his hips into the air.
*
Later, Jared says, "At least we know that part's easy."
Jensen smirks. "Parts of it were hard."
His head cradled on his arms, Jared smiles and says, "You think I can stay the night?"
Jensen says, "Yeah," and he rolls to put his face against Jared's bare, sweaty shoulder. He murmurs, "You have to ask Alvin first, though."
He can feel Jared's laughter all through his body. "Alvin already likes me," Jared assures.
"You communing with my fish?"
"Mmm-hmm. He told me so on the way over. He also said you forget to feed him."
"I only forgot the one time," Jensen swears.
"Still," Jared says, "You'll need someone to help you remember. I'm good at that sort of thing."
Jensen stares at him, unsure whether he should trust the warm, solid certainty in his gut. "Good at helping people sort their lives out, you mean."
Jared's hand falls on Jensen's shoulder. "That too," he promises.
*
In the morning, Jensen wakes up alone on his sagging blow-up mattress and tries not to feel disappointed. He doesn't have any drapes yet, and the morning sun shines bright and annoying as he squints around. His cell phone says it's just after eight.
He stumbles groggy-eyed into the kitchen, where he finds a to-go cup of coffee, an orange box of fish food, and a small potted plant straining toward the yellow sunlight. Attached to the pot with a scrap of packing tape is a note with a phone number in what has to be Jared's messy scrawl. It says, “Welcome home.”
The End. ♥
J2 AU; 2750 words; PG-13
Jensen hires a mover.
Random AU is random. Thank you so much to girlmostlikely, missyjack and larienelengasse for being amazing and wonderful and offering their help and advice so that this is an actual story and not merely a pile of stupid words on the computer screen. LOVE. You should probably all get co-author credit on this thing. I think we should all just be thankful I didn't title this: You Move Me.
Also, point of interest: this is my 1000th post. I didn't even PLAN THAT.
Jensen moves out on a Tuesday.
It's his one free day off during the summer, when he's not doing research or tutoring students who failed Sociology 101. The day is so hot he's actually afraid he might melt, nearly half of his crap won't fit properly into his boxes, and he hasn't really had enough coffee to deal with the strangers he hired to transport him from point A to point B.
He's using guys Steve recommended on the assurance that they were fast and cheap - two qualities pretty much mandatory given Jensen's meager pay and his need to be out of David's place, like, yesterday, and the one he already met - the scrawny one who smelled a little like weed - did not make a totally promising first impression.
"Anything fragile in these?" says a friendly voice behind him.
Jensen doesn't turn around, just shakes his head from his position crouched down low to re-tape up a box of his stuff. When he'd tried to move the same box earlier that morning, the bottom had fallen out. "Books," he says.
"That's a lot a' books," notes the voice.
Jensen makes a noise, too busy slicing through the tape using only his teeth to reply.
"Who needs this many books?"
The glue from the tape is sticky on Jensen's tongue, and he scrapes it against his teeth. "Grad students," he supplies eventually.
"Cool," the voice says. Jensen hears a grunt. He spins around just in time to see shoulders - very broad shoulders stacked over narrow hips - carry two big, heavy boxes filled to bursting with books out his soon-to-be-ex doorway. The guy doesn't even strain under the weight.
Jensen blinks.
*
"Steve said you had to be out quick," the guy with the shoulders comments as they stand in the dimly lit hallway. He'd introduced himself just a minute ago as Jared when he'd clasped Jensen's hand, and Jensen decidedly had not noticed the calluses or the fact that the guy's hand was nearly as big as his face.
Jensen nods. He jerks a thumb behind him toward the apartment. "Ex's," he explains, watching as Jared frowns. He has long hair that falls in his eyes, the sort of hair that always looks stupid and floppy, only somehow he makes it look effortless and attractive. Jensen looks away.
"You and your girlfriend breaking up?" Jared asks, and he squints as if he's looking for what went wrong and he can see it just by studying Jensen.
Hesitating, Jensen finally says, "Boyfriend, actually. And we, ah, broke up a while ago."
Jared looks him in the eyes. "Oh," he says. "That's too bad."
Jensen says, "Yeah," only he isn't sure he means it.
Jared peers around him into the apartment. "What else needs to go?"
The place looks like a bomb went off. "That pile," Jensen says, pointing. "And that one, and, um, that one."
If Jared's surprised that Jensen's still got more stuff out of boxes than in, he doesn't let it show. He immediately hands Jensen a broken-down box and the tape gun. "I'm awesome at packing," he tells Jensen, knees creaking as he bends to put pile A - contents from the dresser drawers Jensen had upended onto the floor - neatly into a box. "Comes with the territory, I guess."
"I don't think that's all gonna fit," Jensen points out, taping up the box in his hands.
Jared grins. "Sure it will."
Jensen moves to help him. Jared's t-shirt stretches across his back as he twists around and he already smells like sweat and something citrus-y, probably his cologne. He keeps up a fairly steady stream of conversation. "If you don't mind my asking, you said you and your boyfriend broke up a while ago. Why're you just moving out now?"
Jensen follows Jared's lead and rolls his socks into tidy little balls before lining them up in the box. "David - my ex - he's been gone all summer on a dig in Wyoming. He comes back tomorrow for school."
"And you're not supposed to be here?"
"Might make things awkward."
"What with you not being together any more."
"And with him telling me to go to Hell. Which I didn't do. He might get mad at that."
Jared laughs, this big sound that Jensen's somehow glad he made happen. Jensen looks down. The whole pile is packed neatly into one box.
*
Steve had asked, "Why are you the one who's moving out again?" to which Jensen had answered, "It's the break up rule. You do the breaking up, you have to do the moving out."
Jensen has thirty-six boxes. A few of them hold dishes and clothes and an old set of pots and pans his mama dug out of the attic for him four years ago. One of them contains CDs and old mix tapes he never got around to throwing out. One has old school trophies, spelling bee ribbons, yearbooks and photo albums, including the scrapbook Mac made when he moved away for college six and a half years ago. The rest carry books.
There's not much else. He has a fake fichus that manages to look like it's dying despite being, well, fake; an ugly orange La-Z-Boy that's easily the most comfortable chair on the planet; and three floor-to-ceiling bookcases, empty now, and waiting in the hallway to be moved into the truck.
He has a gold fish named Alvin who swims 'round and 'round in his cheap plastic bowl. Jensen stares at him. He doesn't stop swimming.
"I think that's all of the boxes," Jared says as he ducks into the apartment.
Jensen eyes the place. It doesn't feel that different with his stuff gone. Behind him, he can feel Jared's eyes on him and Jensen nods once in acknowledgement. In a frame on the beat-up wooden table by the couch, there's a picture of him and David taken back when they were still in undergrad, when they were friends and when Jensen thought nothing could come between them. Their smiles look young. It feels so long ago.
Jensen forces himself to look away. Jared doesn't smile when Jensen meets his eyes. Instead he says, "You need a minute?"
Shaking his head, Jensen says, "Nah. Thanks, though."
Jared shrugs. "Is that a picture of you and David?" he asks, pointing to the shot.
Jensen nods.
Jared does smile then, saying, "You know, when my baby sister broke up with her first boyfriend, she burned all the pictures of him she had, and I think she regrets it now."
"Er…okay."
Jared, who Jensen just met an hour ago, who Jensen's paying to move him out of his ex-boyfriend's apartment, picks up the frame and thrusts it into Jensen's hands. "You should take it," he comments. "Someday, you might want it." He nods his head toward Alvin suddenly. "Fish going too?"
Jensen bobs his head.
Jared says, "Neat," and carries Alvin out, huge palm wrapped around the bottom of the clear bowl.
*
"Let's go, girls. We don't have a lot of time," Jason - the scrawny one - calls, as he climbs into the moving truck. He's a wiry looking guy with squinty eyes. He chews gum loudly and carries way more boxes than he should be able to, all the while wearing a white T-shirt with the arms cut off.
Jensen's leaning over to strap Alvin into the front seat of his faded blue Camry when Jared surprises him by saying, "You mind if I ride with you? Jason smokes."
Jensen looks up. Jared's standing directly in front of the sun, so Jensen can't see the expression on his face. It's so hot Jensen can feel his shirt stick to his back, and he hears the moving van start up with a slow, steady whine.
He eyes Jared's long legs. "You might not fit," he admits.
"I'm bendy," Jared promises, dipping his knees as if to prove his point.
"You'll have to hold Alvin."
Jared says, "Yeah. I think I can do that."
It's a twenty-minute drive to Jensen's new place - nearly clear across town because he had to find somewhere to live in a hurry. He turns the air on full blast when he starts up the engine. Jared squints into the sun and starts making faces in Alvin's direction.
Jensen doesn't turn the radio on. He smiles.
*
On the way over, Jared asks, "So, grad school for what?"
Jensen keeps his eyes on the road. "Cultural Anthropology."
"What are you gonna do with that?"
Jensen shakes his head. "I have no idea," he answers honestly.
He's only known Jared for two hours, but he can hear the smile in Jared's voice just the same. "Well, at least you have a plan."
Jensen gives an easy laugh.
Jared is a long expanse of tanned skin. His smile is white and even. He fiddles with the air vents and explains about feeling lost when he first moved to the city for college, about how he met Jason and took time off to start up a small business and how much he likes helping people sort out their lives.
Jensen finds himself nodding along. At a stoplight he looks over to find Jared's eyes on him. He feels nervous and clumsy and grips the steering wheel tightly. The sun shines brightly through the windshield, and he can't seem to move his gaze away from Jared's face.
A car behind him honks when the light turns, startling Jensen into looking back at the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jared smile.
*
It takes forty-seven minutes for the three of them to move Jensen's belongings from the truck to the apartment. Alvin's hanging out on the window ledge where Jared deposited him, deciding he looked comfortable.
It's a one-bedroom apartment. Jensen doesn't even have a bed yet, and instead intends to blow up the air mattress he bought at Target two days ago. He also bought green cotton sheets he found on sale and a set of two down pillows that felt fluffy and indulgent.
He looks around. The walls are bare. It doesn't feel empty though, just uncluttered.
Jared's standing in the sunlight. He's so sweaty his hair is sticking to his temples, and Jensen can see his armpit stains, and the way his shirt sticks against his stomach.
He coughs. "You, ah, want something to drink? I have… water."
Jared's smile is wide and grateful. "I could actually use a beer," he comments, while Jensen roots around in one of the few boxes marked KITCHEN to find a cup.
Jensen nods. "I could go get some beer."
Jared says, "I can help you unpack."
*
When David finally told him to leave, he'd accused Jensen of checking out of the relationship a long time ago. Jensen had had a hard time disagreeing.
Jared asks, "Why didn't it work out?" and Jensen has to think for a minute. When his mama asked the same question three weeks ago, Jensen gave her a tired platitude about growing apart, which hadn't been entirely true.
Jensen finally shrugs. "Everything was just… hard," he says.
He sees Jared's lips tug up into a smirk. "I thought that was s'pposed to be a good thing."
Jensen laughs, throwing a bottle cap at Jared's face. "Everything else was hard," he corrects.
Jared quickly grows serious. "How so?"
Jensen shrugs again. "It was just always a struggle, you know? Even our friendship was a struggle." He blows out a breath. "There was always this…pit of dread in my stomach when I thought about him. I never felt totally comfortable, totally sure, I guess. I know relationships aren't always easy but -" Jensen feels like he's not explaining it right. He lets out a frustrated sound, but Jared's nodding like he gets it anyway.
"It shouldn't be work all the time," Jared finishes. "There should be fun times, too."
Jensen meets his eyes. "Yeah."
The sun is setting now, and the world beyond Jensen's window is hazy and orange. There's a pile of empty boxes stacked in the corner, and Jensen's sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall, knees pulled up.
Jason left a while ago, taking the van with him. At the time, Jensen had promised to drive Jared wherever he needed to be.
Right now, Jensen's not sure he could move if his life depended on it. It's the first time since the start of summer he's felt loose and content, without something sick twisting in his stomach.
He smiles at Jared, who's leaning forward from his spot in the La-Z-Boy.
"This is gonna seem a little presumptuous," Jared says.
"How so?"
Jared meets his eyes. "You just got out of a serious relationship."
Jensen hums, noncommittal. He waits with anticipation strumming along his skin, like he's got plastic wrap stretched around his chest, as Jared shifts from the chair to the floor, until he's lined up shoulder to shoulder with Jensen.
"But, ah," Jared continues. "Would you maybe want to go out with me sometime?"
Jensen lets the question sit for a minute before smiling. "Yeah."
He watches the dimples in Jared's cheeks when Jared's smile goes wide and bright.
"I mean on a date," Jared clarifies. He eyes are focused on Jensen's lips now, making the room go hot and bright and sharp.
"I got that," Jensen answers, a little breathless.
"Because I think I might kiss you now," Jared says.
"I got that too," Jensen returns, just as Jared's lips press against his own.
Jared's hands twist into Jensen's t-shirt. Jensen sucks in his breath and licks at Jared's mouth and murmurs, "There's a bedroom."
He can feel Jared smile. "I saw," he says, getting up and pulling Jensen with him.
"There's no bed, though," Jensen says, feeling a little foolish.
Jared pushes him against the wall. "We can make do."
Jared's touch is confident. His hands are wide and calloused and one cups the back of Jensen's head, pulling him into the kiss.
Jensen kisses into Jared's mouth, and he tastes like the pizza they ate not half an hour ago. He's warm and smooth, and when Jensen gets his hands on Jared's bare stomach, Jared makes a sound like it's the best thing he's ever felt. He makes Jensen dizzy. The kisses are slow and lazy, with the sun a slip-shimmer falling into the horizon, and Jensen's radio a low buzz in the background. Their bodies curl into each other, and when Jared gets his hand spread wide on the small of Jensen's back, everything inside Jensen goes liquid and hot, as he lets Jared shift his body this way and that to put Jensen on his back.
This doesn't feel like a one time thing.
"I don't want to be a rebound," Jared murmurs, pressing his lips to Jensen's thigh right through Jensen's jeans, like he could read Jensen's mind.
Jensen gasps, feeling a wet, hot tongue tease at his waistband, making his stomach contract. Jensen feels his head snap back against the floor beneath him. He shifts restlessly, and murmurs, "Okay," as he pushes his hips into the air.
*
Later, Jared says, "At least we know that part's easy."
Jensen smirks. "Parts of it were hard."
His head cradled on his arms, Jared smiles and says, "You think I can stay the night?"
Jensen says, "Yeah," and he rolls to put his face against Jared's bare, sweaty shoulder. He murmurs, "You have to ask Alvin first, though."
He can feel Jared's laughter all through his body. "Alvin already likes me," Jared assures.
"You communing with my fish?"
"Mmm-hmm. He told me so on the way over. He also said you forget to feed him."
"I only forgot the one time," Jensen swears.
"Still," Jared says, "You'll need someone to help you remember. I'm good at that sort of thing."
Jensen stares at him, unsure whether he should trust the warm, solid certainty in his gut. "Good at helping people sort their lives out, you mean."
Jared's hand falls on Jensen's shoulder. "That too," he promises.
*
In the morning, Jensen wakes up alone on his sagging blow-up mattress and tries not to feel disappointed. He doesn't have any drapes yet, and the morning sun shines bright and annoying as he squints around. His cell phone says it's just after eight.
He stumbles groggy-eyed into the kitchen, where he finds a to-go cup of coffee, an orange box of fish food, and a small potted plant straining toward the yellow sunlight. Attached to the pot with a scrap of packing tape is a note with a phone number in what has to be Jared's messy scrawl. It says, “Welcome home.”
The End. ♥