Wicked Game - Part 2
Master Post
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Part 2
A couple days after their bike ride, Jared ran into Jensen and Chris at the gym. Jensen was still doing bench presses, when Jared came over to the weight section.
His head was beat red. Chris stood spotting him. Hands hovering, doing the counting. Jared stepped up to his side. "You done soon?"
"Fuck off," Jensen gasped.
"Yeah, he's done," Chris said.
"I got one more," Jensen protested.
"No, you don’t."
"Dude," Jensen panted. "Leave it, I --"
"Jay…"
Jared rolled his eyes. Nudged Chris out of the way.
"You got one more? Go."
"Hey, no!" Chris called but Jensen had already pushed the barbell off the rack. Lowered it to his chest. Then, jaw clenched, he pushed the weight back up. Biceps and pecs bulging, straining against the T-shirt.
"Come on," Jared called. "You got another one. Don't lay it down."
"Are you nuts?" Chris called, tried to reach for the barbell but Jensen was already lowering the weight again.
"I got it," he breathed. Barely audible, but still. He should have saved the breath, though. When he pushed the weight up again this time, he struggled. His arms shook and his face was starting to turn purple. But he was only lacking an inch for the barbell to fall onto the rack.
His eyes flickered. Looking for him. For Chris. And Chris hovered.
"Dude, help him," he yelled at Jared.
"No, he can do it. I know he can. It's just an inch, man. Come on, come on, come -"
Chris shoved him out of the way. Turned to reach for the barbell but a low clonk told them it had fallen on the rack before he set a hand on it.
Jensen sat up. Gasped for breath. His hands curled around his biceps. They had to burn like hell.
"The fuck were you thinking?" Chris called, but Jared couldn't tell if he meant him or Jensen. Or both of them. He didn't care either way.
Jensen looked at him. Broad shoulders and chest heaving. Beads of sweat running down his temples. Flattening his short hair to his head. His eyes partly lidded, he slowly shook his head. Disbelieving, maybe a little disgruntled but definitely proud. And with a blinding smile that Jared hadn’t though him capable off.
He stroked a hand through his hair and glanced up. “You need a spotter?”
“If you still got it,” Jared said.
Chris didn’t think so. Hands flailing he burst out, “Are you nuts?”
Jensen worked his jaw. Stood up. “Don’t you have another job interview coming up?”
---
The IKEA manual called for two people to build the bed. And judging by what had to be a million pieces, it may have a point. Jared sat on his bedroom floor, trying to hold together two parts and grow a third hand when he gave up and reached for his phone. Scrolled through his contacts. Back and forth. Then back again.
There was no one who could help or would be willing to help. For a second his hand hovered over Chad’s number. The guy wasn’t a handy person at this stuff, though. He remembered the disaster of their entertainment center back in their college days.
Jared worked his jaw and put the phone back down. Glanced out the window. There was still one person he could try.
---
He stood under the askew license plate. It rocked when he knocked on the door. Keeping a suspicious eye on it, he took a step back.
The door swung open and Jensen greeted him with a surprised, “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Hey,” Jared said. Offered a small wave. "You got some time? I need a favor."
Jensen shrugged. "Shoot."
"I just got myself a new bed. Could use some help assembling it."
"Dude, I'm still sore from the gym."
"Yeah, uh… Please? I'll make us some burgers, too. You eat burgers don't you?"
Jensen frowned. "Who doesn't?"
"Never mind."
Jensen raised an eyebrow but left it at that. “Alright. Just let me get some tools.”
With that he turned and went back into the house. Jared leant after him into the hallway. “Uh, I got tools.”
But when Jensen returned from the living room, Jared couldn’t help the grin. Jensen held up a six-pack of Lone Star.
“Can’t have enough of these tools.”
---
Two and a half hours later, the damn bed finally stood on its own. Jared brushed a hand through his hair. "We shoulda taken a look at the manual."
"Nah," Jensen said and pushed up from his knees. "It worked, didn't it?"
"And it only took forever."
"'Cause you kept handing me the wrong screws."
"I did not," Jared called.
"Yeah, you did.” Jensen smirked at him. Downed the rest of his beer and burped. “Maybe you should have stayed in the kitchen and let the real man handle this.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Relax,” Jensen said and shoved him. “I was just kidding. You’re pretty handy. For a gay, anyway.”
“We’re on our best redneck behavior today, are we?”
A mischievous grin spread on Jensen's face. So wide it crinkled the corners around his eyes. “Aw, I try.” He laughed and knocked him in the shoulder. “Come on, what about those burgers?”
Jared shook his head, but a grin tugged at his lips.
---
The meat sizzled in the pan. Jared prodded at the burgers and glanced at the living room. Jensen was pacing, cell phone pressed to his ear. It had rung when they came downstairs. Jensen had taken a look at the ID and given him an apologetic smile. “It’s the brat,” he’d said and “gotta take this.” They spoke for a few minutes before Jensen hung up and turned to Jared’s shelf.
Jared cleared his throat. “By brat you meant…?” He called.
“Johnny,” Jensen said, fingers moving over the Blu-Ray cases. “Maybe you saw him at the party? He’s-”
“Henry’s kid, yeah. I met him. Didn’t seem like he was too fond of you, though.”
At that Jensen huffed a laugh. “He’s a teenager. He ain’t fond of anybody.”
“What did he want?”
“Just vent, tell me how much he hates my guts and so on. Teenage stuff.”
“You’re pretty laid back about it.”
“He talks tough but he’s a good kid,” Jensen said and pulled a case from the shelf then joined him in the kitchen.
Jared flipped the burgers in the air. Caught them and grinned.
"Impressive," Jensen said and slid on a bar stool.
"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."
"Well, I don’t know about that but I gotta admit you got good taste in movies." He tossed Top Gun on the counter.
“You wanna watch Top Gun?”
“You’re damn right I wanna watch Top Gun. Why? You got a problem with that?”
Jared shook his head with a smile. “No,” he said and handed Jensen a plate. “Not at all.”
---
Part way into the movie, a small repetitive movement started in Jared's peripheral. Jensen massaged his knee. Rubbing his hand back and forth. Whenever he looked over, Jensen stopped. Took a hit off his beer and would say, "What?"
Too damn proud to admit he was in pain. It drove Jared nuts. The next time he noticed he shifted. Held out his hand. "Come on.”
“’Come on’ what?”
“Let me see your knee. I give a mean massage. I did a workshop."
"You did a workshop?"
"I did a workshop." He grinned. "Really. I won't make it worse, I promise."
"Fine." Jensen flung his leg up and dropped it unceremoniously in his lap. "Have at it."
Jared began to knead the joint gently, but with the jeans on it was hard to tell where exactly he was pressing in. He tried to push the pant leg up but it bunched around the knee. So he pulled it back down and patted Jensen’s thigh. “Take ‘em off.”
Jensen darted a glance at him. "Yeah, no."
"Why? You going commando? Grandpa briefs with skid marks?"
Jensen scoffed. "No."
He paused. "You worried about catching the gay?"
"I’m worried about my innocence."
Jared rolled his eyes. "Please."
"Admit it - you just wanna grope me."
"Don’t be so full of yourself."
"Some call it confidence."
"And yet you're clinging to your pants like a prude."
"Shut up," Jensen called and toed his nose with a socked foot.
"You're so gross," Jared laughed and batted the foot away. “So what’s it gonna be? Pain or pride?”
Jensen hesitated then sighed and pushed to his feet. In a swift move he unbuckled his belt and his jeans dropped to his floor.
Indeed, no grandpa briefs. Fitted black boxer-briefs instead. His butt really didn't look half bad. And when he turned, Jared saw that he sported an impressive package, too. So maybe the confidence wasn’t unfounded.
"There - you're staring. Looks like everyone wants me, gals and guys ali-"
"You're bowlegged," Jared deadpanned and wiped the smug smile off of Jensen's face.
"Yeah, well - so was John Wayne."
"Like that makes it better."
"It totally does."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed Jensen's leg. Pulled it back onto his lap. Used more force than he had to and Jensen lost his balance. He regarded him with an angry frown, but before he could complain, Jared said, "You gonna cry, bitch?"
Jensen huffed a breath. Then dropped back on his crossed arms. Lolled his head sideways and glanced at the TV.
"So, where you from Jared?"
"San Antonio, originally. But I've lived in Dallas for a few years now, just across town." He dug his fingers into the muscles surrounding Jensen's knees. Tight knots had formed there. The guy must have been in even more pain than he'd let on.
"Why did you move here?"
"Closer to college, and..." he trailed off. Bit his tongue.
"And what? Oh right, the boyfriend trouble. Sorry, I'll shut up."
Jared grinned to himself. The guy was about as sensitive as a wrecking ball.
"Anyway," Jensen went on. "I'm kinda glad you moved here, though."
"You are?"
"Yeah. All my pals ride choppers. Which is cool, but it's nice having someone who can appreciate a sportsbike."
"Yeah."
"We should ride again soon,” Jensen said.
On screen the volleyball scene happened. A shirtless Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer, back when they'd still been young. Glistening with sweat. Their dog tags glimmering in the sun.
There was a beat then Jensen asked, “They your type?”
Jared glanced at Jensen but Jensen’s eyes were fixed on the screen, making it hard for Jared to gauge his mood. So Jared cleared his throat and went with the truth. “They’re nice to look at, but no.”
“Because you’re the guy, right?” Jensen asked. “You like the fruity ones, don’t you?”
“That’s a rude way to put it, but basically, yeah.”
“Are you happy?”
That threw Jared and he frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jensen looked up. “Are you happy with your life?”
“Yeah, I guess, I am. Why?”
“Just asking.”
“Aren’t you?”
For a long moment Jensen didn’t react. He just blinked a couple times before he said, “Sure, I am,” and turned back to the TV. “I wanna watch the movie now, if you don’t mind.”
---
Jared’s closet stood open wide. Most its contents strewn out on the bed. Chad stood in front of the gaping doors. In his hand a choice of shirts. On his face a disapproving frown. “So, you’re friends with that redneck now?”
Jared slumped down on the edge of his bed. Shrugged. "Can't hurt to have a straight friend. Hell, he helped build this bed."
"That's all great, but what if he finds out you're not Mr. America, like him."
"He already knows."
"He knows you’re gay?”
Jared nodded. “I told him. About a week ago, actually."
"And he's cool about it?"
"Yeah. I mean he makes weird jokes, but I think it's because he really has no clue they're insulting."
"Someone's looking through rose colored glasses, here."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
“You think he’s hot.”
“What? No, I don’t. He’s not my type. Like at all.” He glared at Chad. “You know that.”
“Yeah, I know. And it better stay that way,” Chad tossed him a light blue shirt with white accents at the collar and cuffs, “or this date with Michael is pointless.”
Jared bit his teeth. Glanced at the shirt in his hands. It was the one he usually used for formal events at college and not for a nice date, but if Chad said so.
"You know, your neighbor may seem nice," Chad went on, "but how can you be sure he's not just setting you up?"
Jared paused. Thought back to the jokes. The innuendo - aimed to provoke him into flirting? The massage - had Jensen expected to get groped? Waited for an excuse to beat him up, adding insult to injury because he'd been stupid enough to believe Jensen?
That was far-fetched, though. Too much effort. Jensen was just some dude, messing with him in good nature.
He turned to Chad and straightened his collar. "You're being paranoid."
"Let’s hope so. Look, if he's cool - cool. But there's still the crowd he hangs with. Just keep an eye out, okay?”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”
---
The next morning, the door bell and two knocks raised Jared from his doze. On weary feet he shuffled to the door.
Jensen took one look at him and grinned wide. "Someone got laid."
A smirk tugged at Jared’s lips. He stared at his feet. Carded a hand through his tangled hair. "Maybe."
"He still here?"
"No. He went home right after." Jared led the way to the living room.
“You gonna see him again?”
“Probably not. I’d hoped it could turn into more, but…”
“How many dates did you guys have?”
“One.”
At that Jensen barked a laugh. “Boy, you really give yourself time to get to know each other?”
“Shut up,” Jared laughed but heat rose in his cheeks. That was exactly the problem. It wasn’t on him, though. Granted he went for the seduction but if he hadn’t, he’d left the night without a second date and sex. He didn’t like to discuss the hypocrisy of that attitude, so he changed the topic. "What brings you here?"
“Nothing.” He glanced around. Then shrugged. “Well, I wanted to apologize. About the stereotyping.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” Jensen pointed at his shirt. On it, a hand held up a big razor blade with the words Judas Priest engraved in it. “You know, they call the singer the God of Heavy Metal.”
Jared came up blank at that. “So?”
“He’s gay, too.”
“I see. Not all pink fairies, huh?”
“Or gym bunnies, like you.”
“Someone’s gone beyond his homework,” Jared said and grinned.
Jensen shuddered. “Yeah.” He recovered fast though. “So, you big manly guy, up for a party for big manly guys tonight?”
---
Jared realized he hadn't thought this through when he stood at that farm again. When little Johnny marched out the barn, a shit eating grin on his face and a shotgun in his hands.
"Hey, boys!" He called and everyone fell dead silent. One Eye Stu even dropped his beer. It spilled and sizzled in the fire.
"Cool, huh?"
"Yeah, very cool, Johnny," a girl said. Her voice trembled as bad as her grin. "Now, put it down, yeah?"
"Why?"
"Put it down before you hurt yourself." Chris had stepped forward.
"I got it."
"Put it down, kid."
Johnny's eyes narrowed. He turned to Chris. "Or what?"
"Geez, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny..." Jensen heaved a deep breath and all eyes turned to him. Then, to Jared's horror, he pushed to his feet. Went straight for the kid, unfazed even when Johnny pointed the barrel at him. And before Johnny had the chance to do anything else, Jensen had the gun snatched from his hands. "Where did you even get that thing?"
"None of your business, asshole. Give it back!"
"No, I won't." He held the shotgun over his head, out of Johnny's reach. Glanced at it. "This is actually pretty neat."
"It is and it's mine."
"You ever shot it, little brother?"
A pause. Heat crept into the kids face. "Yeah."
"Liar."
"Shut up!"
Suddenly, Jensen grabbed him around the shoulder. Pulled him to his side. "Come here," he said and pressed the gun back in Johnny's fingers.
"See that tree?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Shoot it."
"What?"
"You a pussy, Johnny?"
"No, I just-"
"Shoot. It."
"I -"
"Shoot it!" Jensen yelled, so loud that everybody flinched. Eyes wide with panic Johnny flung the gun around and shot a blast at the tree. Wood splintered and showered the ground. The recoil slammed Johnny right on his ass.
He dropped the gun to his side. Jensen picked it up, laughing like a maniac. "Well done, kiddo."
"I hate you, asshole," Johnny shouted and scrambled to his feet. His cheeks were flaming with embarrassment. "I'm gonna kill you, I swear. I'm gonna fucking kill you."
At the words, a chill ran down Jared's spine.
"Bring it," Jensen called as Johnny ran off. Everyone else was laughing.
"Wee bit of an overkill don't you think?" Chris said when Jensen joined them. Jared stared in disgust at the gun. His ears were still ringing.
"Well, I reckon he ain't gonna touch a gun again soon. So..." Jensen shrugged. "Lesson learned. I'm sure our college teacher here can understand."
"From what I understand," Jared said. "There woulda been a thousand different ways you could have taught him that lesson."
"Any of them that quick and effective?"
"Quick? Maybe not. Effective? We'll see." He cleared his throat. "You gonna keep that thing?"
"Why? You want it?"
"No, god no."
"You ever hold a gun?"
"Not a real one, no."
"Come on, then." Jensen held it out to him.
He shook his head. "Thanks, I'm good."
"Dude, it won't bite. It-"
"No!" He put his foot down. Held Jensen's eyes. And finally Jensen lowered the gun.
"Alright, your decision."
"Who's making that noise in my backyard?" A voice shouted. Henry trotted around the barn. Eyebrows furrowed.
"Sir," Jensen called and gave a quick salute.
Henry walked over to them. His eyes fell on the gun. "Damn where did you get that baby?" He asked, holding out the pack of smokes to Jensen.
To Jared's surprise, Jensen waved it off. "No, thanks," he said and handed Henry the gun. "It’s Johnny's."
"My boy's? No shit. And I was worrying he was a fag. Holed up in his room all day with all those damn toy airplanes." He glanced at the gun. "Dunno if I should be proud or pissed."
"Maybe you should talk to him about it," Jared said. "He seems pretty angry."
"Yeah, maybe. Maybe we can talk and braid each other's hair and paint our fucking nails, too." He laughed. "I'm gonna teach the kid how to use it, that's what I'm gonna do."
Jared rolled his eyes. Glanced at Jensen. The guy heaved a breath.
“You wanna go.”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “I wanna go.”
“Alright,” Jensen said and put his beer down. “I’m going too, then.”
“What?” Chris frowned. “Why?”
“’cause I’m tired. You coming, too?”
Chris scoffed. “It’s barely past ten.”
“Fine then,” Jensen said. He nudged Jared’s shoulder and they left.
Back at the iron gate to the property they waited for the cab. Jensen hadn’t spoken a word on the way and Jared couldn’t stand it any longer. He cleared his throat and glanced over. “You didn’t have to leave.”
“I know,” Jensen said. With shaking fingers he pulled a pack of gum from his pocket. Nicotine gum. He popped one into his mouth. “But I wanted to.”
---
The desert was exceptionally quiet. Not even a coyote howled in the distance. Jared sat against the building. Book in his lap, he stared at the sky turning a deep blue.
Next to him, Jensen had stretched out on his back. Hands folded under his head. He chewed nicotine gum, the movement a constant in Jared's peripheral. But he didn't mind. He was grateful for the lack of smoke.
There was something else on his mind. Had since the party last week. He cleared his throat. Closed his book. "I think you're too careless about Johnny."
Jensen just hummed.
"That all? Aren't you worried he might actually hurt you? Or someone else?"
"Nah. He's just a teenager. I was like that."
"You still are."
Jensen blinked one eye open. Glared at him then closed it again. "Shut up."
"Seriously, though. And Henry-"
"Henry's a good guy."
"He a good father, too?"
Jensen paused. "He helped me when I got back. He's the only one who gets it."
"Yeah. And I get that. But that's not what I asked. Is he a good father? To Johnny?"
At that Jensen shifted. Sat up and stared into the distance. Jared almost expected him to get up and leave. But he did neither. Instead he rubbed at his neck and said, "I'll talk to him."
---
Jared drummed his finger on the counter. Stared at the wooden topping. He hadn't heard from Jensen in days. Not since their talk about Johnny. He wondered if he'd pushed too hard. Put his nose where it didn't belong. But this shit was serious.
"You seem distracted."
He glanced up. Patrick, his date for the night stood at the stove, a spatula in hand. Chicken was slowly frying in a low fat pan. He regarded him with a slightly worried glance.
"Yeah, sorry," he worked up a smile. "I'll stop thinking now."
"Good," Patrick said. "I was getting worried that frown might stick to your forehead."
He grinned, strained. Patrick glanced back at the food. "You wanna talk about it?"
"I... no... it's just about work," he lied. It wasn’t a topic for a second date. And this time Jared was hopeful. Patrick was nice. They got along. He didn’t want to mess that up.
Patrick regarded him with a worried expression for a moment longer. Then his face softened. "Alright,” he said. “I'll distract you later."
---
The treadmill ran smoothly under Jared's feet. He had a good rhythm going. In the distance, he spotted Jensen doing dumbbell curls. Biceps straining his shirt. He still hadn't talked to him.
His line of sight was broken by Patrick. "See you later?"
"Sure," Jared said and Patrick winked at him.
"So," Chad said. "I see things with Patrick are going good."
"Yeah," Jared said. The sex was good. As for everything else - not that much different than any relationship he'd had before. But he was gonna try harder this time. Like Jensen had said. Give it some time.
---
The next week the door bell rung, followed by two hard knocks. Jared sighed. Finally.
"Door's open," he called.
Jensen stepped into the kitchen. A six pack under his arm, a frown on his forehead. "How did ya' know it was me?"
Jared winked. "I've X-Ray vision."
"Uh-huh," Jensen said and dumped the beer on the table. "You free, or are you expecting whatshisname?"
“Patrick and no, I’m not.” He paused. “How do you know about him anyway?”
“Saw him sneak out once or twice.”
“You stalking me?”
“You wish,” Jensen retorted. “I got my own crap that keeps me up at night.”
Jared grinned. “Well, you won’t see him again. I ended it.” Before it really started, but everything had boiled down to sex again so Jared had cut his losses.
“You did?”
“We didn’t fit.”
“You know, ‘giving it some time’ means more than a few days.”
“Shut up. I ain’t taking advice from a straight bachelor.”
“Ouch,” Jensen said and laughed. “Anyway, good thing I’m not here for that.” He uncapped two bottles and handed Jared a bottle. “Top Gun?”
Jared huffed an amused breath. “Again?”
Jensen smirked. “Always.”
---
They stretched out on the couch with a beer and potato chips. Watched Tom Cruise fly his bird through the air.
“So,” Jared started. “You talk to Henry?”
Jensen heaved a deep sigh. "Why does this gun stuff bother you so much?"
"I just don't think everybody and their cat needs one." He sighed. "Look, my dad took me to a shooting range when I was a kid. No big deal, lots of kids were there with their dads. But I just remember how loud it was. And the weight of that thing in my hand and..." He barked a laugh. "And then this one dude, some stupid loud redneck waved his gun. A shot went off and hit my dad in the foot. Nothing serious but, for a kid, that's a lot of blood. And all the fuzz and the ambulance and..." He trailed off. "I just don't think that guns are all that necessary."
"Huh," Jensen mumbled. "Guess you got a point there."
"You miss it, don't you?"
Jensen shrugged. Then stared at the TV. "Let's just watch the movie alright?"
So, yeah. Jared took a deep breath. Glanced over. “What was it like?” He attempted an innocent smile when Jensen looked up. “Did you and your comrades get to play volleyball, too?”
At first Jensen didn't respond. Then a small smile formed on his lips. "Nah. We played soccer. In fact..." He started on a story and his mood lifted. Jared didn't get much from the tale, though. Too surprised by the sudden passion in his neighbor.
---
The next day, Chad and Jared passed Jensen and Chris on the way out of the locker. Jared and Jensen shared a slap on the shoulder.
Chad glanced at him. "You guys really spend a lot of time together lately."
"Hey, if you get a motorcycle -"
"No thanks."
"Speaking of spending time together," Chad threw his arms around Jared's shoulders. "Friday, you, me - Musk?"
"Definitely," Jared said with a burst of optimism. Maybe he’d even find his special someone to make his life complete.
---
Jared woke up, head still ringing, to an empty left side of the bed and decided some fresh air would do him good. He pushed his bike into the driveway to give her a nice cleaning. At some point Jensen joined him. Wearing a Metallica T-shirt, today. Dragging a lawn chair after him and two cold beers in hand. Jensen tossed him one and made himself comfortable.
Jared shot him a brief glance. The guy had slouched down. Legs sprawled. His head rested back but turned to him. Watching him. Eventually, Jensen cleared his throat. "So were you partying without me last night?"
"Like you weren't out, too."
"Did you get laid?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah." He grinned and they bumped fists.
Jared set the cloth to his bike and moved it in slow circles. Giving his baby a nice and shiny polish to finish. "Anything serious in the making?"
Jensen shook his head. "Nah."
"How come? Not in the mood to ‘give it some time’?"
At that Jensen just flipped him the bird.
Jared chuckled but grew subdued and brushed a hand through his hair. Swallowed hard. Then turned to Jensen. "Seriously, though… I like sex as much as anyone, but I’m getting so fed up with it being all there is. But finding someone for more is so damn hard..."
“You want my honest opinion?”
Jared nodded.
Jensen cleared his throat and straightened. ”It’s not just hard, it’s pretty hopeless too. You’re either friends or you have sex. Both in one? You got a better chance winning the lottery."
"You really think so?" Jared fiddled with his sports bottles. He just wanted a guy he could be with. Share his life with. He knew a 100% match wasn't realistic but a common ground other than sexuality wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
“Yeah,” Jensen said, “I really think, so, but hey, you want to prove me otherwise - knock yourself out. If you find your prince charming maybe I’ll regain some faith in happily ever after. Until then...” Jensen hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “You up for a party with me and the guys tonight? Or are you gonna look for future Mr. Padalecki in the clubs again?”
Jared heaved a sigh. Smiled and said, “Nah, I think I’ll take a break from the clubs.” At least hanging out with Jensen was fun.
Someone put a karaoke machine up behind the farm. It would have been awesome if it weren't all metal songs. Then Jensen grinned and stepped up to the mike.
"Oh dear," Jared muttered with a laugh. Lifted his hands in preparation to cover his ears.
The music started up, just when Johnny got up on stage. Shoved at Jensen. His skinny arms didn't achieve much, though. "It's my turn," he yelled to be heard over the tunes to Iron Maiden's Fear of the Dark.
Jensen just smirked. Slung an arm around his scrawny shoulders and pulled him close. Up to the mic. A flush rose on Johnny's cheeks. He struggled but Jensen didn't let him go. Unfazed, he set his lips to the mic. Sang.
Jared's face widened in awe. He had an amazing voice. And damn, he could hold a note. When the refrain started up, he nudged Johnny. The kid glared at him then got over his ego and joined in. His voice suddenly clear, sounding in a much higher pitch than Jensen's. Different but complementing it.
And for a moment, it really looked like they were brothers. Then the song ended and Johnny pulled away. Flipped Jensen the finger. "It was still my turn, you fucking asshole!"
Jensen waved him off and strolled over to Jared. "You want to?"
"No, thank you. I'm a crappy singer. And I don't know the songs."
"Sure? There's some Aerosmith and stuff on there too."
"Yeah, I’m, sure. I can't top what you guys did there."
"Aw, you make me blush."
"I mean it. I didn't know Metal could sound so good."
At that, Jensen averted his face. Glanced at the fire. The low glow highlighted his sheepish smile. The tint of red to the tips of his ears. "Thanks, man."
---
Jared sighed and slowed the treadmill. Slowly winding down before he stepped off and grabbed for his towel.
"You okay?" Chad handed him his sports bottle.
"Yeah," he said. "Why?"
"You seem distracted. And kinda down."
He glanced at the weight section. Jensen wasn't there. He'd meant to ask Jensen if he'd go on a ride with him but that would have to wait until later. If Jensen was even home. Not off to a party without him. He shook his head. Looked back at Chad. "All's good."
But Chad had caught his glance. "Jay..."
“I swear."
"You wanna go to Musk? Find some action?"
“Nah..."
"Why? ‘cause your neighbor isn’t there?”
“What? That’s got nothing to do with it. I just -” He broke off at Chad’s frown.
”Alright, fine. I'm sick of always having to do what the little twinks want. Jensen likes my movies, he likes a good beer, and he doesn't take an hour in the bathroom. So for now I'd like to hang out with him rather than some-"
"Since when?"
Jared stood gaping at the interruption. Then frowned. "Since when what?"
"When did you fall for him?"
Jared froze. He hadn’t fallen for Jensen. And he wanted to tell Chad that. But for the first time in his life his mouth refused to work.
Instead he shook his head, and when he finally found his tongue again, he said, “You’re nuts.” Then went to the weight section.
---
Jared worked on a paper. Tried to block out Metallica's fast rhythms and deep shouts. Jensen's window was open. The loud noise carried over to him. Grated on his nerves. He was not in love with that selfish bastard. And he’d remained quiet for the past five songs - enough was enough.
He stormed out and had just reached the fence when the sound changed. Jared stopped. It was still rock music and he recognized the dude's voice as the singer from that Five Finger something band Jensen had told him about but it was less aggressive. Quite melancholic rather.
Jared paused and listened to the lyrics.
Once upon a time
There was a part of me I shared
Years before they took away
The part of me that cared.
An unusual tune for his neighbor. Worried, he stepped closer. Caught a glance at Jensen sitting on the couch on his porch.
He couldn't see his face though. Didn't have to.
Jensen sat hunched over on his couch. Head between his knees, buried in his hands. His shoulders trembled.
A vagabond battle born
A battle born
Jared drummed his fingers against the wooden plates. Then took a deep breath and went over.
Jensen glanced up. His fingers fiddled with an army knife.
For the first time, Jared saw him in something other than a band shirt. This time, his shirt was plain beige. His jeans replaced by camouflage cargo pants.
"The fuck do you want?" Jensen said, dully.
Jared had meant to reprimand him. Instead, he said, "Put that thing down and let's go for a ride."
---
Jensen raced like a maniac. Jared had a hard time keeping up. Luckily, they didn't cross a cop. He didn't think Jensen would have stopped, either way.
When they finally reached the deserted rest stop, Jared was breathless. He jumped off his bike and ripped his helmet off. Grabbed Jensen by his shirt. "You wanna kill yourself, you idiot?"
Jensen just glared at him, jaw clenched. Through the fabric, Jared felt Jensen's dog tags crunch up.
“So?” Jensen mumbled and broke from his grip. “What would it matter?”
---
Mellow rock songs played on the radio as the sun casted her sleepy golden glow on the Texas desert. Jared and Jensen rested with their backs against the closed fill-up joint, T-shirts taken off and bunched and folded into pillows. Faint breezes sent tumbleweeds their way. Some of them just passing through. Some taking their time, giving soft nods in greeting, before going on their way.
Their bikes had long cooled down, dozing by their side with loyal patience. Jared touched his head against the wall. Stared at the sky. Jensen played with the wrapper of his nicotine gum like it was a smoke he was about to roll.
"So... three years, today?" Jared asked.
"Yeah."
Three years without war. Without gunfire, blood. Without fear for life. It sounded like a reason to celebrate. Jared lolled his head to the side. Jensen didn't look like he shared that sentiment. His eyes were distant. His fingers idled with the dog tags round his neck. Pressed them against his lips. A hard pacifier, gleaming cool in the afternoon sun.
Springsteen's Born in the U.S.A. came on and Jensen's shoulders tensed. Jared noticed the shift. Reached for the radio but Jensen placed a hand on his.
"Leave it."
"You sure?"
"I'm okay," he said but his smile sent a shiver down Jared's spine. A shiver he couldn't shake as the song progressed. He put his T-shirt back on but it didn't help.
Jared ground his teeth. It was a song heard a thousand times but that had been before. Before he'd known a veteran. Before he'd known Jensen. The music still made him want to tap his foot but the lyrics suddenly held meaning to him. Tied his guts up in knots.
He glanced at Jensen. One hand had gone back to the dog tags. Gripped them in a tight fist. The other pressed to his lips, holding an imaginary smoke. Stoic, Jensen squinted at the horizon. Jaw tensed.
Okay, my ass, Jared thought. He wrapped his arms around his knees. Stroked a thumb over the hand that Jensen had touched. Chased the warmth.
Eventually, the song changed. A low rhythmic guitar and a driving bass gave the desert a mellow sound as America sung "a horse with no name."
It was an easy song. Stupid really. Lyrics made up by a stoned mind. And yet, the low music made Jared's heart grow heavy in his chest. Next to him, Jensen sucked in a rattling breath.
"I'll be right back," he said, voice a low croak as he jumped to his feet. The dog tags jingled.
In the desert you can't remember your name, 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain...
Jensen took two staggering steps before his bad knee gave out on him. He crashed to his hands and knees with a choked gasp.
Jared was on his feet in a flash. But Jensen wasn't hurt. Not like he'd thought, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
Jensen's hands curled into tight fist, knuckles going white threatening to break skin as his broad shoulders heaved. "I want back," he gasped and pulled his right arm back. His biceps contracted and he punched the asphalt so hard Jared flinched. Then again and again and again. "I want back, I want back, I want..." He broke off. Slumped back on his haunches.
His arms hung limp by his side. Right hand knuckles torn and bloody. A crimson spot on the ground.
"What do I got here?" He asked the desert.
Jared's feet took him to Jensen. His hands reached out. Brushed over firm shoulders and cupped Jensen's clenched jaw. Felt the stubble there, the strong line to his chin.
Jensen glanced up. Green eyes filled with raging desperation.
"You got me," Jared said and his lips pressed against Jensen's.
Time froze. A quiet moment before Jensen brought his hand up and buried it in Jared's hair. Pulled him closer. His eyes fell shut. His mouth grew hungry between breathless gasps.
Jared felt plump lips. A slick tongue. Felt warmth. Felt right. Then he tasted the nicotine. Tasted salt underneath. And when Jensen pulled back he saw the matching tears.
Reality crashed on Jared's back. Rooted him to the ground while Jensen stumbled to his feet. His wide chest was heaving for breath. Dog tags askew. He limped the two steps to retrieve his T-shirt.
Jared slowly straightened up. Swallowed hard. The taste of nicotine gum and tears. The taste of Jensen still strong on his tongue.
He stood and wondered if that was it. A chilly breeze sent a shiver down his spine. Ruffled his hair and blew it in his face. He didn't dare brush it away. Didn't dare move. Didn't dare blink as Jensen went over to his bike and propped himself up on the seat. Back arched, head bent low.
Then Jensen brought his injured hand up. Pressed absent-minded fingers to his lips and hope flared in Jared's chest, clinging desperately to the thought that Jensen had kissed back. That it might have been more than desperation. "Jense-"
"We should head back."
He deflated.
---
Jensen headed straight for his own drive way. Jared jumped off his bike and ripped his helmet off, taking a step closer. When Jensen came out of the garage he stopped in his tracks. Their eyes caught.
Jared took another step closer.
Jensen's gaze dropped to the ground. "I'll see you around." With that he skipped up the porch steps and vanished in his house.
Jared stared after him. A hollow feeling in his gut. His helmet dangled from his hands and he wondered what the fuck had happened. How the fuck it could have happened.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jared turned and went home. He slumped down on the couch and buried his face in his hands.
Part 3
Previous
Part 2
A couple days after their bike ride, Jared ran into Jensen and Chris at the gym. Jensen was still doing bench presses, when Jared came over to the weight section.
His head was beat red. Chris stood spotting him. Hands hovering, doing the counting. Jared stepped up to his side. "You done soon?"
"Fuck off," Jensen gasped.
"Yeah, he's done," Chris said.
"I got one more," Jensen protested.
"No, you don’t."
"Dude," Jensen panted. "Leave it, I --"
"Jay…"
Jared rolled his eyes. Nudged Chris out of the way.
"You got one more? Go."
"Hey, no!" Chris called but Jensen had already pushed the barbell off the rack. Lowered it to his chest. Then, jaw clenched, he pushed the weight back up. Biceps and pecs bulging, straining against the T-shirt.
"Come on," Jared called. "You got another one. Don't lay it down."
"Are you nuts?" Chris called, tried to reach for the barbell but Jensen was already lowering the weight again.
"I got it," he breathed. Barely audible, but still. He should have saved the breath, though. When he pushed the weight up again this time, he struggled. His arms shook and his face was starting to turn purple. But he was only lacking an inch for the barbell to fall onto the rack.
His eyes flickered. Looking for him. For Chris. And Chris hovered.
"Dude, help him," he yelled at Jared.
"No, he can do it. I know he can. It's just an inch, man. Come on, come on, come -"
Chris shoved him out of the way. Turned to reach for the barbell but a low clonk told them it had fallen on the rack before he set a hand on it.
Jensen sat up. Gasped for breath. His hands curled around his biceps. They had to burn like hell.
"The fuck were you thinking?" Chris called, but Jared couldn't tell if he meant him or Jensen. Or both of them. He didn't care either way.
Jensen looked at him. Broad shoulders and chest heaving. Beads of sweat running down his temples. Flattening his short hair to his head. His eyes partly lidded, he slowly shook his head. Disbelieving, maybe a little disgruntled but definitely proud. And with a blinding smile that Jared hadn’t though him capable off.
He stroked a hand through his hair and glanced up. “You need a spotter?”
“If you still got it,” Jared said.
Chris didn’t think so. Hands flailing he burst out, “Are you nuts?”
Jensen worked his jaw. Stood up. “Don’t you have another job interview coming up?”
---
The IKEA manual called for two people to build the bed. And judging by what had to be a million pieces, it may have a point. Jared sat on his bedroom floor, trying to hold together two parts and grow a third hand when he gave up and reached for his phone. Scrolled through his contacts. Back and forth. Then back again.
There was no one who could help or would be willing to help. For a second his hand hovered over Chad’s number. The guy wasn’t a handy person at this stuff, though. He remembered the disaster of their entertainment center back in their college days.
Jared worked his jaw and put the phone back down. Glanced out the window. There was still one person he could try.
---
He stood under the askew license plate. It rocked when he knocked on the door. Keeping a suspicious eye on it, he took a step back.
The door swung open and Jensen greeted him with a surprised, “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Hey,” Jared said. Offered a small wave. "You got some time? I need a favor."
Jensen shrugged. "Shoot."
"I just got myself a new bed. Could use some help assembling it."
"Dude, I'm still sore from the gym."
"Yeah, uh… Please? I'll make us some burgers, too. You eat burgers don't you?"
Jensen frowned. "Who doesn't?"
"Never mind."
Jensen raised an eyebrow but left it at that. “Alright. Just let me get some tools.”
With that he turned and went back into the house. Jared leant after him into the hallway. “Uh, I got tools.”
But when Jensen returned from the living room, Jared couldn’t help the grin. Jensen held up a six-pack of Lone Star.
“Can’t have enough of these tools.”
---
Two and a half hours later, the damn bed finally stood on its own. Jared brushed a hand through his hair. "We shoulda taken a look at the manual."
"Nah," Jensen said and pushed up from his knees. "It worked, didn't it?"
"And it only took forever."
"'Cause you kept handing me the wrong screws."
"I did not," Jared called.
"Yeah, you did.” Jensen smirked at him. Downed the rest of his beer and burped. “Maybe you should have stayed in the kitchen and let the real man handle this.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Relax,” Jensen said and shoved him. “I was just kidding. You’re pretty handy. For a gay, anyway.”
“We’re on our best redneck behavior today, are we?”
A mischievous grin spread on Jensen's face. So wide it crinkled the corners around his eyes. “Aw, I try.” He laughed and knocked him in the shoulder. “Come on, what about those burgers?”
Jared shook his head, but a grin tugged at his lips.
---
The meat sizzled in the pan. Jared prodded at the burgers and glanced at the living room. Jensen was pacing, cell phone pressed to his ear. It had rung when they came downstairs. Jensen had taken a look at the ID and given him an apologetic smile. “It’s the brat,” he’d said and “gotta take this.” They spoke for a few minutes before Jensen hung up and turned to Jared’s shelf.
Jared cleared his throat. “By brat you meant…?” He called.
“Johnny,” Jensen said, fingers moving over the Blu-Ray cases. “Maybe you saw him at the party? He’s-”
“Henry’s kid, yeah. I met him. Didn’t seem like he was too fond of you, though.”
At that Jensen huffed a laugh. “He’s a teenager. He ain’t fond of anybody.”
“What did he want?”
“Just vent, tell me how much he hates my guts and so on. Teenage stuff.”
“You’re pretty laid back about it.”
“He talks tough but he’s a good kid,” Jensen said and pulled a case from the shelf then joined him in the kitchen.
Jared flipped the burgers in the air. Caught them and grinned.
"Impressive," Jensen said and slid on a bar stool.
"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."
"Well, I don’t know about that but I gotta admit you got good taste in movies." He tossed Top Gun on the counter.
“You wanna watch Top Gun?”
“You’re damn right I wanna watch Top Gun. Why? You got a problem with that?”
Jared shook his head with a smile. “No,” he said and handed Jensen a plate. “Not at all.”
---
Part way into the movie, a small repetitive movement started in Jared's peripheral. Jensen massaged his knee. Rubbing his hand back and forth. Whenever he looked over, Jensen stopped. Took a hit off his beer and would say, "What?"
Too damn proud to admit he was in pain. It drove Jared nuts. The next time he noticed he shifted. Held out his hand. "Come on.”
“’Come on’ what?”
“Let me see your knee. I give a mean massage. I did a workshop."
"You did a workshop?"
"I did a workshop." He grinned. "Really. I won't make it worse, I promise."
"Fine." Jensen flung his leg up and dropped it unceremoniously in his lap. "Have at it."
Jared began to knead the joint gently, but with the jeans on it was hard to tell where exactly he was pressing in. He tried to push the pant leg up but it bunched around the knee. So he pulled it back down and patted Jensen’s thigh. “Take ‘em off.”
Jensen darted a glance at him. "Yeah, no."
"Why? You going commando? Grandpa briefs with skid marks?"
Jensen scoffed. "No."
He paused. "You worried about catching the gay?"
"I’m worried about my innocence."
Jared rolled his eyes. "Please."
"Admit it - you just wanna grope me."
"Don’t be so full of yourself."
"Some call it confidence."
"And yet you're clinging to your pants like a prude."
"Shut up," Jensen called and toed his nose with a socked foot.
"You're so gross," Jared laughed and batted the foot away. “So what’s it gonna be? Pain or pride?”
Jensen hesitated then sighed and pushed to his feet. In a swift move he unbuckled his belt and his jeans dropped to his floor.
Indeed, no grandpa briefs. Fitted black boxer-briefs instead. His butt really didn't look half bad. And when he turned, Jared saw that he sported an impressive package, too. So maybe the confidence wasn’t unfounded.
"There - you're staring. Looks like everyone wants me, gals and guys ali-"
"You're bowlegged," Jared deadpanned and wiped the smug smile off of Jensen's face.
"Yeah, well - so was John Wayne."
"Like that makes it better."
"It totally does."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed Jensen's leg. Pulled it back onto his lap. Used more force than he had to and Jensen lost his balance. He regarded him with an angry frown, but before he could complain, Jared said, "You gonna cry, bitch?"
Jensen huffed a breath. Then dropped back on his crossed arms. Lolled his head sideways and glanced at the TV.
"So, where you from Jared?"
"San Antonio, originally. But I've lived in Dallas for a few years now, just across town." He dug his fingers into the muscles surrounding Jensen's knees. Tight knots had formed there. The guy must have been in even more pain than he'd let on.
"Why did you move here?"
"Closer to college, and..." he trailed off. Bit his tongue.
"And what? Oh right, the boyfriend trouble. Sorry, I'll shut up."
Jared grinned to himself. The guy was about as sensitive as a wrecking ball.
"Anyway," Jensen went on. "I'm kinda glad you moved here, though."
"You are?"
"Yeah. All my pals ride choppers. Which is cool, but it's nice having someone who can appreciate a sportsbike."
"Yeah."
"We should ride again soon,” Jensen said.
On screen the volleyball scene happened. A shirtless Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer, back when they'd still been young. Glistening with sweat. Their dog tags glimmering in the sun.
There was a beat then Jensen asked, “They your type?”
Jared glanced at Jensen but Jensen’s eyes were fixed on the screen, making it hard for Jared to gauge his mood. So Jared cleared his throat and went with the truth. “They’re nice to look at, but no.”
“Because you’re the guy, right?” Jensen asked. “You like the fruity ones, don’t you?”
“That’s a rude way to put it, but basically, yeah.”
“Are you happy?”
That threw Jared and he frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jensen looked up. “Are you happy with your life?”
“Yeah, I guess, I am. Why?”
“Just asking.”
“Aren’t you?”
For a long moment Jensen didn’t react. He just blinked a couple times before he said, “Sure, I am,” and turned back to the TV. “I wanna watch the movie now, if you don’t mind.”
---
Jared’s closet stood open wide. Most its contents strewn out on the bed. Chad stood in front of the gaping doors. In his hand a choice of shirts. On his face a disapproving frown. “So, you’re friends with that redneck now?”
Jared slumped down on the edge of his bed. Shrugged. "Can't hurt to have a straight friend. Hell, he helped build this bed."
"That's all great, but what if he finds out you're not Mr. America, like him."
"He already knows."
"He knows you’re gay?”
Jared nodded. “I told him. About a week ago, actually."
"And he's cool about it?"
"Yeah. I mean he makes weird jokes, but I think it's because he really has no clue they're insulting."
"Someone's looking through rose colored glasses, here."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
“You think he’s hot.”
“What? No, I don’t. He’s not my type. Like at all.” He glared at Chad. “You know that.”
“Yeah, I know. And it better stay that way,” Chad tossed him a light blue shirt with white accents at the collar and cuffs, “or this date with Michael is pointless.”
Jared bit his teeth. Glanced at the shirt in his hands. It was the one he usually used for formal events at college and not for a nice date, but if Chad said so.
"You know, your neighbor may seem nice," Chad went on, "but how can you be sure he's not just setting you up?"
Jared paused. Thought back to the jokes. The innuendo - aimed to provoke him into flirting? The massage - had Jensen expected to get groped? Waited for an excuse to beat him up, adding insult to injury because he'd been stupid enough to believe Jensen?
That was far-fetched, though. Too much effort. Jensen was just some dude, messing with him in good nature.
He turned to Chad and straightened his collar. "You're being paranoid."
"Let’s hope so. Look, if he's cool - cool. But there's still the crowd he hangs with. Just keep an eye out, okay?”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”
---
The next morning, the door bell and two knocks raised Jared from his doze. On weary feet he shuffled to the door.
Jensen took one look at him and grinned wide. "Someone got laid."
A smirk tugged at Jared’s lips. He stared at his feet. Carded a hand through his tangled hair. "Maybe."
"He still here?"
"No. He went home right after." Jared led the way to the living room.
“You gonna see him again?”
“Probably not. I’d hoped it could turn into more, but…”
“How many dates did you guys have?”
“One.”
At that Jensen barked a laugh. “Boy, you really give yourself time to get to know each other?”
“Shut up,” Jared laughed but heat rose in his cheeks. That was exactly the problem. It wasn’t on him, though. Granted he went for the seduction but if he hadn’t, he’d left the night without a second date and sex. He didn’t like to discuss the hypocrisy of that attitude, so he changed the topic. "What brings you here?"
“Nothing.” He glanced around. Then shrugged. “Well, I wanted to apologize. About the stereotyping.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” Jensen pointed at his shirt. On it, a hand held up a big razor blade with the words Judas Priest engraved in it. “You know, they call the singer the God of Heavy Metal.”
Jared came up blank at that. “So?”
“He’s gay, too.”
“I see. Not all pink fairies, huh?”
“Or gym bunnies, like you.”
“Someone’s gone beyond his homework,” Jared said and grinned.
Jensen shuddered. “Yeah.” He recovered fast though. “So, you big manly guy, up for a party for big manly guys tonight?”
---
Jared realized he hadn't thought this through when he stood at that farm again. When little Johnny marched out the barn, a shit eating grin on his face and a shotgun in his hands.
"Hey, boys!" He called and everyone fell dead silent. One Eye Stu even dropped his beer. It spilled and sizzled in the fire.
"Cool, huh?"
"Yeah, very cool, Johnny," a girl said. Her voice trembled as bad as her grin. "Now, put it down, yeah?"
"Why?"
"Put it down before you hurt yourself." Chris had stepped forward.
"I got it."
"Put it down, kid."
Johnny's eyes narrowed. He turned to Chris. "Or what?"
"Geez, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny..." Jensen heaved a deep breath and all eyes turned to him. Then, to Jared's horror, he pushed to his feet. Went straight for the kid, unfazed even when Johnny pointed the barrel at him. And before Johnny had the chance to do anything else, Jensen had the gun snatched from his hands. "Where did you even get that thing?"
"None of your business, asshole. Give it back!"
"No, I won't." He held the shotgun over his head, out of Johnny's reach. Glanced at it. "This is actually pretty neat."
"It is and it's mine."
"You ever shot it, little brother?"
A pause. Heat crept into the kids face. "Yeah."
"Liar."
"Shut up!"
Suddenly, Jensen grabbed him around the shoulder. Pulled him to his side. "Come here," he said and pressed the gun back in Johnny's fingers.
"See that tree?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Shoot it."
"What?"
"You a pussy, Johnny?"
"No, I just-"
"Shoot. It."
"I -"
"Shoot it!" Jensen yelled, so loud that everybody flinched. Eyes wide with panic Johnny flung the gun around and shot a blast at the tree. Wood splintered and showered the ground. The recoil slammed Johnny right on his ass.
He dropped the gun to his side. Jensen picked it up, laughing like a maniac. "Well done, kiddo."
"I hate you, asshole," Johnny shouted and scrambled to his feet. His cheeks were flaming with embarrassment. "I'm gonna kill you, I swear. I'm gonna fucking kill you."
At the words, a chill ran down Jared's spine.
"Bring it," Jensen called as Johnny ran off. Everyone else was laughing.
"Wee bit of an overkill don't you think?" Chris said when Jensen joined them. Jared stared in disgust at the gun. His ears were still ringing.
"Well, I reckon he ain't gonna touch a gun again soon. So..." Jensen shrugged. "Lesson learned. I'm sure our college teacher here can understand."
"From what I understand," Jared said. "There woulda been a thousand different ways you could have taught him that lesson."
"Any of them that quick and effective?"
"Quick? Maybe not. Effective? We'll see." He cleared his throat. "You gonna keep that thing?"
"Why? You want it?"
"No, god no."
"You ever hold a gun?"
"Not a real one, no."
"Come on, then." Jensen held it out to him.
He shook his head. "Thanks, I'm good."
"Dude, it won't bite. It-"
"No!" He put his foot down. Held Jensen's eyes. And finally Jensen lowered the gun.
"Alright, your decision."
"Who's making that noise in my backyard?" A voice shouted. Henry trotted around the barn. Eyebrows furrowed.
"Sir," Jensen called and gave a quick salute.
Henry walked over to them. His eyes fell on the gun. "Damn where did you get that baby?" He asked, holding out the pack of smokes to Jensen.
To Jared's surprise, Jensen waved it off. "No, thanks," he said and handed Henry the gun. "It’s Johnny's."
"My boy's? No shit. And I was worrying he was a fag. Holed up in his room all day with all those damn toy airplanes." He glanced at the gun. "Dunno if I should be proud or pissed."
"Maybe you should talk to him about it," Jared said. "He seems pretty angry."
"Yeah, maybe. Maybe we can talk and braid each other's hair and paint our fucking nails, too." He laughed. "I'm gonna teach the kid how to use it, that's what I'm gonna do."
Jared rolled his eyes. Glanced at Jensen. The guy heaved a breath.
“You wanna go.”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “I wanna go.”
“Alright,” Jensen said and put his beer down. “I’m going too, then.”
“What?” Chris frowned. “Why?”
“’cause I’m tired. You coming, too?”
Chris scoffed. “It’s barely past ten.”
“Fine then,” Jensen said. He nudged Jared’s shoulder and they left.
Back at the iron gate to the property they waited for the cab. Jensen hadn’t spoken a word on the way and Jared couldn’t stand it any longer. He cleared his throat and glanced over. “You didn’t have to leave.”
“I know,” Jensen said. With shaking fingers he pulled a pack of gum from his pocket. Nicotine gum. He popped one into his mouth. “But I wanted to.”
---
The desert was exceptionally quiet. Not even a coyote howled in the distance. Jared sat against the building. Book in his lap, he stared at the sky turning a deep blue.
Next to him, Jensen had stretched out on his back. Hands folded under his head. He chewed nicotine gum, the movement a constant in Jared's peripheral. But he didn't mind. He was grateful for the lack of smoke.
There was something else on his mind. Had since the party last week. He cleared his throat. Closed his book. "I think you're too careless about Johnny."
Jensen just hummed.
"That all? Aren't you worried he might actually hurt you? Or someone else?"
"Nah. He's just a teenager. I was like that."
"You still are."
Jensen blinked one eye open. Glared at him then closed it again. "Shut up."
"Seriously, though. And Henry-"
"Henry's a good guy."
"He a good father, too?"
Jensen paused. "He helped me when I got back. He's the only one who gets it."
"Yeah. And I get that. But that's not what I asked. Is he a good father? To Johnny?"
At that Jensen shifted. Sat up and stared into the distance. Jared almost expected him to get up and leave. But he did neither. Instead he rubbed at his neck and said, "I'll talk to him."
---
Jared drummed his finger on the counter. Stared at the wooden topping. He hadn't heard from Jensen in days. Not since their talk about Johnny. He wondered if he'd pushed too hard. Put his nose where it didn't belong. But this shit was serious.
"You seem distracted."
He glanced up. Patrick, his date for the night stood at the stove, a spatula in hand. Chicken was slowly frying in a low fat pan. He regarded him with a slightly worried glance.
"Yeah, sorry," he worked up a smile. "I'll stop thinking now."
"Good," Patrick said. "I was getting worried that frown might stick to your forehead."
He grinned, strained. Patrick glanced back at the food. "You wanna talk about it?"
"I... no... it's just about work," he lied. It wasn’t a topic for a second date. And this time Jared was hopeful. Patrick was nice. They got along. He didn’t want to mess that up.
Patrick regarded him with a worried expression for a moment longer. Then his face softened. "Alright,” he said. “I'll distract you later."
---
The treadmill ran smoothly under Jared's feet. He had a good rhythm going. In the distance, he spotted Jensen doing dumbbell curls. Biceps straining his shirt. He still hadn't talked to him.
His line of sight was broken by Patrick. "See you later?"
"Sure," Jared said and Patrick winked at him.
"So," Chad said. "I see things with Patrick are going good."
"Yeah," Jared said. The sex was good. As for everything else - not that much different than any relationship he'd had before. But he was gonna try harder this time. Like Jensen had said. Give it some time.
---
The next week the door bell rung, followed by two hard knocks. Jared sighed. Finally.
"Door's open," he called.
Jensen stepped into the kitchen. A six pack under his arm, a frown on his forehead. "How did ya' know it was me?"
Jared winked. "I've X-Ray vision."
"Uh-huh," Jensen said and dumped the beer on the table. "You free, or are you expecting whatshisname?"
“Patrick and no, I’m not.” He paused. “How do you know about him anyway?”
“Saw him sneak out once or twice.”
“You stalking me?”
“You wish,” Jensen retorted. “I got my own crap that keeps me up at night.”
Jared grinned. “Well, you won’t see him again. I ended it.” Before it really started, but everything had boiled down to sex again so Jared had cut his losses.
“You did?”
“We didn’t fit.”
“You know, ‘giving it some time’ means more than a few days.”
“Shut up. I ain’t taking advice from a straight bachelor.”
“Ouch,” Jensen said and laughed. “Anyway, good thing I’m not here for that.” He uncapped two bottles and handed Jared a bottle. “Top Gun?”
Jared huffed an amused breath. “Again?”
Jensen smirked. “Always.”
---
They stretched out on the couch with a beer and potato chips. Watched Tom Cruise fly his bird through the air.
“So,” Jared started. “You talk to Henry?”
Jensen heaved a deep sigh. "Why does this gun stuff bother you so much?"
"I just don't think everybody and their cat needs one." He sighed. "Look, my dad took me to a shooting range when I was a kid. No big deal, lots of kids were there with their dads. But I just remember how loud it was. And the weight of that thing in my hand and..." He barked a laugh. "And then this one dude, some stupid loud redneck waved his gun. A shot went off and hit my dad in the foot. Nothing serious but, for a kid, that's a lot of blood. And all the fuzz and the ambulance and..." He trailed off. "I just don't think that guns are all that necessary."
"Huh," Jensen mumbled. "Guess you got a point there."
"You miss it, don't you?"
Jensen shrugged. Then stared at the TV. "Let's just watch the movie alright?"
So, yeah. Jared took a deep breath. Glanced over. “What was it like?” He attempted an innocent smile when Jensen looked up. “Did you and your comrades get to play volleyball, too?”
At first Jensen didn't respond. Then a small smile formed on his lips. "Nah. We played soccer. In fact..." He started on a story and his mood lifted. Jared didn't get much from the tale, though. Too surprised by the sudden passion in his neighbor.
---
The next day, Chad and Jared passed Jensen and Chris on the way out of the locker. Jared and Jensen shared a slap on the shoulder.
Chad glanced at him. "You guys really spend a lot of time together lately."
"Hey, if you get a motorcycle -"
"No thanks."
"Speaking of spending time together," Chad threw his arms around Jared's shoulders. "Friday, you, me - Musk?"
"Definitely," Jared said with a burst of optimism. Maybe he’d even find his special someone to make his life complete.
---
Jared woke up, head still ringing, to an empty left side of the bed and decided some fresh air would do him good. He pushed his bike into the driveway to give her a nice cleaning. At some point Jensen joined him. Wearing a Metallica T-shirt, today. Dragging a lawn chair after him and two cold beers in hand. Jensen tossed him one and made himself comfortable.
Jared shot him a brief glance. The guy had slouched down. Legs sprawled. His head rested back but turned to him. Watching him. Eventually, Jensen cleared his throat. "So were you partying without me last night?"
"Like you weren't out, too."
"Did you get laid?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah." He grinned and they bumped fists.
Jared set the cloth to his bike and moved it in slow circles. Giving his baby a nice and shiny polish to finish. "Anything serious in the making?"
Jensen shook his head. "Nah."
"How come? Not in the mood to ‘give it some time’?"
At that Jensen just flipped him the bird.
Jared chuckled but grew subdued and brushed a hand through his hair. Swallowed hard. Then turned to Jensen. "Seriously, though… I like sex as much as anyone, but I’m getting so fed up with it being all there is. But finding someone for more is so damn hard..."
“You want my honest opinion?”
Jared nodded.
Jensen cleared his throat and straightened. ”It’s not just hard, it’s pretty hopeless too. You’re either friends or you have sex. Both in one? You got a better chance winning the lottery."
"You really think so?" Jared fiddled with his sports bottles. He just wanted a guy he could be with. Share his life with. He knew a 100% match wasn't realistic but a common ground other than sexuality wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
“Yeah,” Jensen said, “I really think, so, but hey, you want to prove me otherwise - knock yourself out. If you find your prince charming maybe I’ll regain some faith in happily ever after. Until then...” Jensen hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “You up for a party with me and the guys tonight? Or are you gonna look for future Mr. Padalecki in the clubs again?”
Jared heaved a sigh. Smiled and said, “Nah, I think I’ll take a break from the clubs.” At least hanging out with Jensen was fun.
Someone put a karaoke machine up behind the farm. It would have been awesome if it weren't all metal songs. Then Jensen grinned and stepped up to the mike.
"Oh dear," Jared muttered with a laugh. Lifted his hands in preparation to cover his ears.
The music started up, just when Johnny got up on stage. Shoved at Jensen. His skinny arms didn't achieve much, though. "It's my turn," he yelled to be heard over the tunes to Iron Maiden's Fear of the Dark.
Jensen just smirked. Slung an arm around his scrawny shoulders and pulled him close. Up to the mic. A flush rose on Johnny's cheeks. He struggled but Jensen didn't let him go. Unfazed, he set his lips to the mic. Sang.
Jared's face widened in awe. He had an amazing voice. And damn, he could hold a note. When the refrain started up, he nudged Johnny. The kid glared at him then got over his ego and joined in. His voice suddenly clear, sounding in a much higher pitch than Jensen's. Different but complementing it.
And for a moment, it really looked like they were brothers. Then the song ended and Johnny pulled away. Flipped Jensen the finger. "It was still my turn, you fucking asshole!"
Jensen waved him off and strolled over to Jared. "You want to?"
"No, thank you. I'm a crappy singer. And I don't know the songs."
"Sure? There's some Aerosmith and stuff on there too."
"Yeah, I’m, sure. I can't top what you guys did there."
"Aw, you make me blush."
"I mean it. I didn't know Metal could sound so good."
At that, Jensen averted his face. Glanced at the fire. The low glow highlighted his sheepish smile. The tint of red to the tips of his ears. "Thanks, man."
---
Jared sighed and slowed the treadmill. Slowly winding down before he stepped off and grabbed for his towel.
"You okay?" Chad handed him his sports bottle.
"Yeah," he said. "Why?"
"You seem distracted. And kinda down."
He glanced at the weight section. Jensen wasn't there. He'd meant to ask Jensen if he'd go on a ride with him but that would have to wait until later. If Jensen was even home. Not off to a party without him. He shook his head. Looked back at Chad. "All's good."
But Chad had caught his glance. "Jay..."
“I swear."
"You wanna go to Musk? Find some action?"
“Nah..."
"Why? ‘cause your neighbor isn’t there?”
“What? That’s got nothing to do with it. I just -” He broke off at Chad’s frown.
”Alright, fine. I'm sick of always having to do what the little twinks want. Jensen likes my movies, he likes a good beer, and he doesn't take an hour in the bathroom. So for now I'd like to hang out with him rather than some-"
"Since when?"
Jared stood gaping at the interruption. Then frowned. "Since when what?"
"When did you fall for him?"
Jared froze. He hadn’t fallen for Jensen. And he wanted to tell Chad that. But for the first time in his life his mouth refused to work.
Instead he shook his head, and when he finally found his tongue again, he said, “You’re nuts.” Then went to the weight section.
---
Jared worked on a paper. Tried to block out Metallica's fast rhythms and deep shouts. Jensen's window was open. The loud noise carried over to him. Grated on his nerves. He was not in love with that selfish bastard. And he’d remained quiet for the past five songs - enough was enough.
He stormed out and had just reached the fence when the sound changed. Jared stopped. It was still rock music and he recognized the dude's voice as the singer from that Five Finger something band Jensen had told him about but it was less aggressive. Quite melancholic rather.
Jared paused and listened to the lyrics.
Once upon a time
There was a part of me I shared
Years before they took away
The part of me that cared.
An unusual tune for his neighbor. Worried, he stepped closer. Caught a glance at Jensen sitting on the couch on his porch.
He couldn't see his face though. Didn't have to.
Jensen sat hunched over on his couch. Head between his knees, buried in his hands. His shoulders trembled.
A vagabond battle born
A battle born
Jared drummed his fingers against the wooden plates. Then took a deep breath and went over.
Jensen glanced up. His fingers fiddled with an army knife.
For the first time, Jared saw him in something other than a band shirt. This time, his shirt was plain beige. His jeans replaced by camouflage cargo pants.
"The fuck do you want?" Jensen said, dully.
Jared had meant to reprimand him. Instead, he said, "Put that thing down and let's go for a ride."
---
Jensen raced like a maniac. Jared had a hard time keeping up. Luckily, they didn't cross a cop. He didn't think Jensen would have stopped, either way.
When they finally reached the deserted rest stop, Jared was breathless. He jumped off his bike and ripped his helmet off. Grabbed Jensen by his shirt. "You wanna kill yourself, you idiot?"
Jensen just glared at him, jaw clenched. Through the fabric, Jared felt Jensen's dog tags crunch up.
“So?” Jensen mumbled and broke from his grip. “What would it matter?”
---
Mellow rock songs played on the radio as the sun casted her sleepy golden glow on the Texas desert. Jared and Jensen rested with their backs against the closed fill-up joint, T-shirts taken off and bunched and folded into pillows. Faint breezes sent tumbleweeds their way. Some of them just passing through. Some taking their time, giving soft nods in greeting, before going on their way.
Their bikes had long cooled down, dozing by their side with loyal patience. Jared touched his head against the wall. Stared at the sky. Jensen played with the wrapper of his nicotine gum like it was a smoke he was about to roll.
"So... three years, today?" Jared asked.
"Yeah."
Three years without war. Without gunfire, blood. Without fear for life. It sounded like a reason to celebrate. Jared lolled his head to the side. Jensen didn't look like he shared that sentiment. His eyes were distant. His fingers idled with the dog tags round his neck. Pressed them against his lips. A hard pacifier, gleaming cool in the afternoon sun.
Springsteen's Born in the U.S.A. came on and Jensen's shoulders tensed. Jared noticed the shift. Reached for the radio but Jensen placed a hand on his.
"Leave it."
"You sure?"
"I'm okay," he said but his smile sent a shiver down Jared's spine. A shiver he couldn't shake as the song progressed. He put his T-shirt back on but it didn't help.
Jared ground his teeth. It was a song heard a thousand times but that had been before. Before he'd known a veteran. Before he'd known Jensen. The music still made him want to tap his foot but the lyrics suddenly held meaning to him. Tied his guts up in knots.
He glanced at Jensen. One hand had gone back to the dog tags. Gripped them in a tight fist. The other pressed to his lips, holding an imaginary smoke. Stoic, Jensen squinted at the horizon. Jaw tensed.
Okay, my ass, Jared thought. He wrapped his arms around his knees. Stroked a thumb over the hand that Jensen had touched. Chased the warmth.
Eventually, the song changed. A low rhythmic guitar and a driving bass gave the desert a mellow sound as America sung "a horse with no name."
It was an easy song. Stupid really. Lyrics made up by a stoned mind. And yet, the low music made Jared's heart grow heavy in his chest. Next to him, Jensen sucked in a rattling breath.
"I'll be right back," he said, voice a low croak as he jumped to his feet. The dog tags jingled.
In the desert you can't remember your name, 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain...
Jensen took two staggering steps before his bad knee gave out on him. He crashed to his hands and knees with a choked gasp.
Jared was on his feet in a flash. But Jensen wasn't hurt. Not like he'd thought, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
Jensen's hands curled into tight fist, knuckles going white threatening to break skin as his broad shoulders heaved. "I want back," he gasped and pulled his right arm back. His biceps contracted and he punched the asphalt so hard Jared flinched. Then again and again and again. "I want back, I want back, I want..." He broke off. Slumped back on his haunches.
His arms hung limp by his side. Right hand knuckles torn and bloody. A crimson spot on the ground.
"What do I got here?" He asked the desert.
Jared's feet took him to Jensen. His hands reached out. Brushed over firm shoulders and cupped Jensen's clenched jaw. Felt the stubble there, the strong line to his chin.
Jensen glanced up. Green eyes filled with raging desperation.
"You got me," Jared said and his lips pressed against Jensen's.
Time froze. A quiet moment before Jensen brought his hand up and buried it in Jared's hair. Pulled him closer. His eyes fell shut. His mouth grew hungry between breathless gasps.
Jared felt plump lips. A slick tongue. Felt warmth. Felt right. Then he tasted the nicotine. Tasted salt underneath. And when Jensen pulled back he saw the matching tears.
Reality crashed on Jared's back. Rooted him to the ground while Jensen stumbled to his feet. His wide chest was heaving for breath. Dog tags askew. He limped the two steps to retrieve his T-shirt.
Jared slowly straightened up. Swallowed hard. The taste of nicotine gum and tears. The taste of Jensen still strong on his tongue.
He stood and wondered if that was it. A chilly breeze sent a shiver down his spine. Ruffled his hair and blew it in his face. He didn't dare brush it away. Didn't dare move. Didn't dare blink as Jensen went over to his bike and propped himself up on the seat. Back arched, head bent low.
Then Jensen brought his injured hand up. Pressed absent-minded fingers to his lips and hope flared in Jared's chest, clinging desperately to the thought that Jensen had kissed back. That it might have been more than desperation. "Jense-"
"We should head back."
He deflated.
---
Jensen headed straight for his own drive way. Jared jumped off his bike and ripped his helmet off, taking a step closer. When Jensen came out of the garage he stopped in his tracks. Their eyes caught.
Jared took another step closer.
Jensen's gaze dropped to the ground. "I'll see you around." With that he skipped up the porch steps and vanished in his house.
Jared stared after him. A hollow feeling in his gut. His helmet dangled from his hands and he wondered what the fuck had happened. How the fuck it could have happened.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jared turned and went home. He slumped down on the couch and buried his face in his hands.
Part 3