Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/753427.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Additional Tags:
      Mpreg, Community:_mpregbigbang
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-08 Words: 32196
****** Nothing but the Best ******
by kerfuffling
Summary
     Jared and Jensen have been trying to get out of their one-stoplight
     Texas hometown since they were kids, and when Jensen gets the chance,
     Jared won't let anything stop him from leaving, not even Jared
     himself. But when Jared finds himself in the situation of being that
     stupid teenager who realizes he's been knocked up after making the
     decision to throw his boyfriend to the curb, he has to decide what
     he's going to do with himself. Keeping it a secret seems like the
     best idea until two years later, when Jensen finally makes a
     reappearance and discovers something he wasn't expecting.
There are plenty of love stories that start with best friends and end with
side-by-side tombstones surrounded by a throng of grieving great-grandchildren.
In between there are weddings and other buddies and small cities where everyone
knows everyone else. These are the kind of things middle-aged women love
hearing about; Lifetime has made a small fortune marketing these tales.
This though? This has nothing to do with that.
Jared and Jensen grew up in the same spit-shined, tiny-ass, dust-covered Texas
town. By virtue of the fact that there were maybe twenty boys their age, and
half of them were world-class dicks, Jared and Jensen became friends over the
same well-worn Superman action figure in the only park around. Jared’s dad had
died and Jensen’s was gone, without so much as keeping Jensen in his rearview
mirror, but despite the common ground, Jared’s mama and Jensen’s were barely
acquaintances, making it coincidence that things turned out the way they did.
There’s a rule to living in their town: you never leave. Women grow up to marry
people they went to kindergarten with and men work in the factory, coming home
with callused hands and heavy eyes. It’s something you learn to expect growing
up. Everything’s second-hand, the houses, the people, the clothing, and just
because everyone knows everyone else’s business doesn’t make the community
nice. Or happy.
The first time Jared kissed Jensen, he was scared to death. He’d just started
eighth grade, and Jensen was a year ahead of him in another wing of the school.
After classes let out, they were lazing in the same playground they’d become
friends in when they were two and Jared just went for it. It was a stupid risk-
-Jensen was, and is, pretty much one of Jared’s only friends--but somehow, it
worked out. Jensen kissed back, surprised at first and very inexpertly with the
clash of their teeth and the too spitty meeting of their tongues, but somehow
it was just how Jared thought it would be.
It keeps on working for four years, despite the fact that they’re young and a
good number of people look down on them for it. Mama Ackles is accommodating,
and it’s easy enough to avoid Jeff, Jared’s stepfather, when need be, and even
though they have a fair number of stupid fights, it’s never enough to break
them apart.
But Jared and Jensen are human of course, and humans have an unerring ability
to fuck things up. And that’s exactly what happens. This ain’t Hollywood, baby,
and this mess isn’t going to be swept under the rug by a few well-meant words
and an over-the-top gesture.
In fact, this might not be fixable at all.
 
April, 2010
When Jared’s phone chirps, startling him out of his book with its loud
ringtone, he almost considers not picking up. Jensen’s at work for the next
couple of hours, and Chad went on a date with Kenzie last night, which means
he’s chock-full of lurid details, and all Jared really wants to do is figure
out who murdered Mary-Jo Hartley and why.
But he checks to see who it is anyway out of habit, and his brow furrows
automatically as the digitalized display reads Jensen Home. He flips it open
before it finishes ringing, and brings it to his ear, saying, “Hi, Mama
Ackles.” He knows that Jensen wouldn’t have waited to get home before calling
if he’d gotten off early, and it turns out that Jared’s intuition regarding his
boyfriend is spot on.
“Hi, Jared-honey,” she replies, her voice crackling over the crummy reception.
Jared is careful to stay close to the window so his crappy cell doesn’t drop
the call.
“Jensen’s not here,” he says automatically. “He picked up an extra shift at the
library.”
“I know, I know,” she responds, and she sounds bone-weary and weak. It makes
Jared’s heart hurt a little, and he gnaws his lip in worry. “I actually wanted
to talk to you.”
“Are you okay?” he blurts suddenly, cutting her off. “Do you need me to come
over?”
She pauses for a second, the silence hanging on the line, before she sighs.
“Might as well. It’s probably better to do this face-to-face anyways.”
“I’ll be right there,” he promises, and before she can answer, he’s already
snapping his phone shut, hopping over the detritus strewn all over his floor,
and skidding down the stairs. Jensen’s house is normally a fifteen minute walk,
all the way on the other end of Cooper Street, but Jared makes it in seven,
huffing as he takes the porch steps two at a time. He can’t remember the last
time Mama Ackles called him without wanting to know where Jensen was, and he
knows that she’s definitely never needed to talk to him alone before. Something
about it is ominous and more than a little worrisome.
She pulls open the door before he has time to knock, standing there in a faded
pink sweater, even though it’s April, and the weather has been warm for weeks.
Her cheeks are a little sunken today, her skin papery. She isn’t wearing her
scarf, and her hair is wispy, barely there, and for some reason, the sight of
it makes a little hurt pang through Jared’s chest.
“You didn’t need to wear yourself out running here,” she admonishes lightly.
“It’s not life or death.”
“Jensen said you had radiation today,” Jared says breathlessly. “I thought you
were sick or something.”
Mama Ackles has been fighting breast cancer for going on nine months now, and
entering her second round of chemotherapy. It’s just about breaking Jensen’s
heart, and it’s all Jared can do to keep it together sometimes. Mama Ackles is
like his second mother, has always been there when Jared needed her, and now
that the cancer has metastasized, the doctors aren’t holding out hope that
she’ll survive much longer. Just thinking about it is enough to make Jared
nauseous.
“Come in, come in,” she says, stepping back so he can get through the door.
“You and Jensen, I swear. Worrywarts, the two of you. It’s me who should be
getting in a fuss over y’all.”
“You can’t blame me, Mama Ackles,” Jared says, toeing off his boots.
“I guess I can’t,” she admits, winding her way to the sofa and sitting down on
it primly. Jared takes his usual seat in the armchair, sprawling all over it in
a way he knows she doesn’t mind, and then he cocks his head at her.
“What’s this about?” he asks. “Why did you want me to come over? Not that I
care or anything--you’re awesome to talk to. It’s just--a little weird without
Jensen here?” He’s rambling, he knows, but something about the way she’s
holding herself, determined but upset at the same time, is making him nervous.
“I’m dying, Jared,” she says, so matter-of-fact that Jared can’t help it when
his mouth drops open.
“Don’t say that!” he says, his voice a tad too high, maybe a little hysterical.
“You can’t just give up. That’s not okay!”
“We both know it,” she says. “And Jensen does too, even if he pretends he
doesn’t. I’m trying to hang on, Jared, but I can feel my body failing.”
“You’re just hitting a rough spot,” Jared soothes, although he’s at a complete
loss as to what to say to help the situation. “The chemo and the medicine.
You’ll be better in a couple of weeks--I know it.”
“I won’t,” she says, and the finality of it makes Jared so mad in the next
second that he’s not sure he’s capable of acting rationally.
“You’re just killing yourself faster by losing hope,” he snaps, standing up,
his eyes suspiciously wet. “You can’t do that to Jensen.”
She looks like she’s about to cry too. “I don’t want to leave him, Jared. He’s
my only boy. But I can’t help what God has planned.”
“Is that why you wanted to talk to me?” Jared demands “To prepare me? Is that
what this is about?”
“Yes... and no,” she hedges, looking down at her hands, which are tangled
together.
“What then?” he snarls, almost yelling, and if he wasn’t so angry, he’d be
ashamed of himself.
“Jensen,” she says, her voice suddenly strong. “He got into Harvard.”
This derails Jared for a moment, and he has to take the time to gather his
thoughts before he responds. “I know,” he says. “What does this have to do with
anything?”
“And he’s thinking about not going. Even though he got a partial scholarship.
Even though he’s the first kid from this town to get accepted in ten years.”
“Boston’s not very close. He’s just being practical,” Jared says, clenching his
fists. “Mama Ackles, I don’t understand.”
“He’s doing it for you, honey,” she says. “He wants to go--of course he does--
but you can’t follow him to Boston. And he knows it and he doesn’t want to
leave you.”
Jared hears the conviction in her voice, slightly accusatory even if she is
trying to be understanding, and he looks down at his shoes. “I don’t want to
stop him from going,” he mumbles, wondering how exactly she managed to
manipulate their prior thread of conversation into this.
“I know you don’t, honey. But that’s what’s gonna happen. And Jensen--he’s so
smart. He doesn’t deserve to stay in this town forever. And neither do you, but
that’s what’s gonna happen if he goes to a local college. You’ll never leave.”
Jared feels himself go red at that, shame pooling in his belly, sick and heavy.
“I don’t want that. You know I don’t. I want him to be happy.”
“I know you do, honey,” Mama Ackles says, and she almost looks like she’s about
to cry, now more than before. “I know. But I want him to have what I couldn’t,
you know? I don’t want him to live here and work at the factory. He’s better
than that.”
“I know,” Jared says softly.
“And so are you,” Mama Ackles cuts in sharply. “I’m not saying this because I
don’t like you, Jared, honey--you know I love you. But you’re the only one he
listens to anymore. Tell him to go. It’s just a year, and then you can follow
him out. You’re smart enough to get into any college in Boston.”
Jared wants to laugh, just throw his head back until tears are running down his
face, because sure, he does okay in school, and yeah, he kind of wants to go to
college. But Boston? There’s no way he can make that happen, even if he does
shoot for a community college or something. Jeff would never let him go and
waste money like that, and Jared doesn’t have that kind of scratch on his own.
“I won’t let you down, Mama Ackles,” he says firmly, and he can swear he feels
his heart breaking in his chest.
“I knew I could count on you, Jared,” she murmurs, leaning over so she can lay
a hand on the back of his, grasping it with cold fingers.
**
Jared’s been staring up at his ceiling for about an hour when he hears Jensen
sneak in through the back. He always thinks he’s so subtle, ducking in through
the cellar and up the stairs when no one’s around, but even though he’s never
gotten caught, Jared always knows when he’s coming.
He hears Jensen pause outside his door, waiting to make sure that Jared is
alone as he always does, before he barges in. Jared appreciates the habit,
especially now that his world’s been thrown on it’s axis, everything all-
encompassing and too much to take in.
“Right where I left you,” Jensen teases, closing the door behind him and
climbing onto Jared’s bed, kissing him hello. He obviously means it to be
quick, probably has a story or two about his shift at the library, but Jared
craves the contact, curving his hand around the line of Jensen’s jawbone, and
pulling him closer. Jen doesn’t need the encouragement, because he’s all to
eager to settle down, almost blanketed across Jared, kissing him back with slow
presses of his tongue against Jared’s, sweet and familiar.
Jared lets it sink into an easy rhythm, opening his mouth and widening his legs
so Jensen can fit between them, his weight a heavy comfort. Making out with
Jensen never fails to make Jared light-headed, ready to keep Jensen forever,
perfectly content to kiss until his lips go numb.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Jensen murmurs against Jared’s mouth when things
slow down enough for them to get a word in edgewise, “but what brought this
on?”
“Missed you,” Jared says, kissing Jensen again, a full-lipped peck that smacks
comically.
Jensen immediately laughs, settling his face into the line of Jared’s neck.
“Fucking sap,” he teases, but his hands, stroking up and down Jared’s sides,
take the edge out of the insult, and Jared just arches closer. “It was only
four hours.”
“I was bored,” Jared whines, and there it is--easier to pretend everything’s
okay than it is to ‘fess up. It’s always been like this with Jensen, the
feeling that nothing’s wrong, even before they started to go out, when they
were just friends.
“Maybe you should work more,” Jensen says, shifting up a little on his elbows
so he can look Jared in the face.
“Maybe some of us give our boyfriends the extra shifts because they know he
needs the money for his fancy school,” Jared counters, with no heat. It seems
now that Mama Ackles has brought it up, there’s no way that he can ignore it,
not with Jensen right here.
Jensen snickers and rolls off to the side, careful to still keep contact with
Jared, tangling their fingers together.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that, actually,” he starts, his drawl steady but
betraying just the tiniest hint of indecision.
“Thinking about how you’re a fucking genius and you’re gonna go to Harvard in
the fall?” Jared asks, staring at the ceiling.
“Pssht, flatterer. You and I both know we don’t have enough time before your
momma gets home for me to do what you want me to.”
“Pervert,” Jared says, laughing a little. “Stop trying to change the subject.
You’re the one who brought it up anyways.”
Jensen sobers a little--Jared doesn’t even have to look at him to know, can
feel it in the tenseness in Jensen’s fingers. “I dunno, Jared. Maybe Harvard
isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
This time, Jared does turn so he can look his boyfriend square in the eye,
raising an eyebrow. “You’re fucking joking. I know you don’t believe that.”
He’s laying it on thick--has to, because he’s known for a while that Jensen
might pull this, even if he tried not to think about it. And after
today...well, Mama Ackles knows what’s going on now, too, and he made a
promise.
Jensen squares his jaw and breathes a sigh. “Maybe I do,” he says. “Maybe the
community college’s just as good.”
“Oh c’mon, you can’t be serious, Jen,” Jared says. “You got into Harvard!
Scholarship and everything!”
“Partial tuition,” Jensen counters. “Harvard’s expensive, Jay.”
“That’s what student loans are for, stupid. This has been your dream forever.
Why you shitting on it now?”
“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Jensen sighs. “It costs so much money--”
“You have a scholarship!”
“I’d have to leave my mom, you, move to a new town--”
“Get an excellent degree,” Jared continues, in the same tone, “meet people as
smart as you, graduate, get a good job.”
“Stop being a dumb shit,” Jensen laughs.
“Me? You’re the one thinking about not going to Harvard,” Jared argues.
“It’s just a thought,” Jensen says, burying his face into Jared’s sleeve.
“I’d go with you, you know,” Jared says quietly. As soon as it leaves his
mouth, he knows it’s a lie--he’s seventeen to Jensen’s eighteen, still has a
year of school left and no money--but it sounds right when he says it. It
sounds convincing.
Jensen scoffs, twisting his head, and says, “How you gonna do that?”
“I’ll get my G.E.D.,” Jared says thoughtfully. “Work a lot this summer--I hear
the Cohens are hiring at the grocery store. With two jobs, I should have enough
to rent a crappy apartment in Boston.”
“Jared, that’s--”
“A good idea,” Jared interjects.
“Your mom’s never gonna go for it,” Jensen says, sitting up. “And I’m not
makin’ you drop outta school to follow me around. That’s so stupid.”
“It’s my idea” Jared counters. “I want to do it. We both know I’m not as smart
as you, Jen. I’m not going much further than a coupla community college courses
anyway.”
“Whatever,” Jensen says, laughing a little. “You always say that, but I know
you’re one of the best students in your class.”
“There are eleven of us and five of them don’t even come to school half the
time,” Jared says. “What an accomplishment.”
“Jared--”
“Just think about it, okay? You have a month before you have to decide. You’ve
worked so hard to get in--don’t be a dumb shit and give it all up now that you
got it.”
“Nag, nag, mom,” Jensen mocks.
“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you and you know it,” Jared says
haughtily.
“Oh whatever,” Jensen laughs, and Jared can’t help but to kiss him again as the
light from the sun setting outside of his window warms them, bathing everything
in an orange glow that makes Jared think things are always gonna be perfect.
Even if they won’t be.
**
When Jensen mails his acceptance to Harvard, Jared is standing right next to
him, feeling a little sick but trying not to show it. He told Mama Ackles he’d
make sure Jensen got here, and he did, but he’s had to try damn hard to get
Jensen to believe the lies he’s spouting off about going to Boston and
finishing school and finding a job, and he’s not looking forward to the fallout
when he has to reveal that he’s actually staying here for the whole next year.
He still hasn’t figured out how he’ll do it.
Jensen’s smile is bright once the envelope disappears, and Jared can’t help it-
-he smiles too, hugging Jensen with one arm.
“I can’t believe it,” Jensen mumbles into the curve of Jared’s shoulder. “I
never woulda guessed.”
“Oh, whatever, genius,” Jared says, laughing a little even though there’s
something churning in the pit of his stomach that makes him feel like he’s
gonna be sick. “Now your biggest problem is getting me through my G.E.D. in
time for us to leave.” It’s another lie of course--Jared has rented all of the
study books their public library has to offer, and he even pretends to study if
Jensen’s around, letting Jensen quiz him and walk him through the arithmetic he
doesn’t remember how to do. But although Jensen’s in the dark, Jared knows it’s
not true, even if it sometimes feels like it is.
“C’mon, tiny,” Jared says, shoving Jensen a little. “I’m starving, and if we
don’t hurry, the entire school’s gonna flood Sam’s and I’m not waiting an hour
for a table again.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” Jensen says, punching Jared in the shoulder, the
normal reaction he has when Jared makes fun of him being the short one, but his
smile betrays any annoyance in his voice.
“Stop being so small then,” Jared deadpans, and not even that is enough to
completely wipe the grin from Jensen’s face, but he does roll his eyes, link
his arms behind Jared’s neck, and pull him down for a kiss.
“You like me short,” Jensen says when he pulls away, and no matter how many
times they’ve done that, kissing Jensen never fails to make Jared feel the
slightest big light-headed. He doesn’t notice when Jensen walks a bit down the
street without him, turning and raising his eyebrow practically on cue.
“Thought you were starving?” Jensen asks, smirking, and Jared has to shake his
head to clear it.
“Fucking cheater,” Jared calls, running to catch up as Jensen continues to
walk.
**
When they get to the diner, Jared smooshes up next to Jensen instead of going
to the other side of the booth. Jensen looks surprised for all of a second
before he shifts his arms to throw it around Jared’s shoulders, pulling him in
close. “Fucking sap,” Jensen says fondly.
“It’s cold in here,” Jared complains, making Jensen scoff, because Jared is
always too warm, but he takes the lie at face value, which makes Jared sigh
internally in relief. He feels fucking stupid, but after seeing Jensen post his
future, the one that Jared can’t be part of, he doesn’t want to give up this
contact.
“You guys make me sick,” their waitress says, and Jared turns enough so that
he’s still within Jensen’s arms but able to see who’s approached. Sure enough
Danneel is there, holding two tattered menus and tapping her foot, though she
looks more amused than anything.
“You’re just jealous,” Jensen says.
“Hardly,” she responds. “If I ever end up as half of a couple as mushy as you
two are, I’d kill myself. You guys are a disgrace to your gender.”
“We all know you’re a closet romantic,” Jared drawls. “You’re probably going to
go home and write all about seeing us in your journal and whine about how you
don’t have a boyfriend and shit.”
“Whatever, Padalecki,” she says. “Here are your menus, not that you need them.
Any insight into why you’re practically fucking out in the open here?”
“Gross, Danni,” Jensen laughs.
“Jen just accepted his place at Harvard,” Jared says, as brightly as he can
when the words feel like they’re festering in his stomach.
Danneel’s easy smile widens into something congratulatory, and she leans over
the table to smack Jensen upside the head. “Finally,” she says, too loud. “I
was beginning to think you were going to make the wrong decision and leave me
all alone in Boston.”
“Jared’s persuasive,” Jensen says, squeezing Jared’s thigh under the table. It
does nothing to reassure Jared or make his stomach any less queasy.
“I’m glad one of you has more sense than a fly,” she says. “What’re you gonna
do without each other for a whole year? Traumatize your new roommate with too
much phone sex, Jen?”
“You are way too invested in our sex lives,” Jared says dryly.
“Jared’s coming with me,” Jensen says. “He’s getting his G.E.D. and moving up
to Boston come August.”
Danneel’s look of surprise makes Jared feel even more like shit than he had.
“No crap?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Jeff’s gonna go for that? Give you
the money?”
“Anything to get me out of the house,” Jared says, his words sounding flat to
his own ears, and none too believable. Thank God no one notices.
“Danneel,” Sam calls from the back, sounding stern, “I don’t pay you to stand
around and talk to your friends!”
Danneel just laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “I love it when Sam
pretends she’s actually my boss,” she says, but she pulls out her notepad
anyways. “Same as always?” she asks, all business now.
“Unless you’ve started serving beer to minors,” Jared quips, and he can feel
the hitches of Jensen’s stomach as he silently laughs.
“I’ll put that right in,” Danneel says, stone-faced, but her mouth is
twitching. “Two Coronas coming up--never mind that Sheriff Pileggi’ll have my
hide if I give you two alcohol in a restaurant that doesn’t even have its
liquor license.”
“Sounds good,” Jensen says, just as faux-seriously. “We’ll visit you in jail.”
“Whatever.” Danneel’s gone with the squeak of her shoes on the tile floor, off
to get them two cherry cokes, what they always get when they come here. She
left the menus, but Jared knows what Jensen wants and vice versa--they never
order anything different.
Their hometown isn’t anything special; not a beacon of acceptance or
progressiveness, but if there’s one place Jared feels safe enough to sit with
his boyfriend, it’s here. Sam was a city-girl, daughter to a rich mayor or
something, before she settled into the country with her husband, Jim, and the
first time Jared and Jensen got shit for being gay, she raised holy hell. Most
everyone in the town’s afraid of her, though no one will admit it, and half of
it comes from the fact that Sheriff Pileggi loves her pie and everyone knows
that Jim is an ace with a shotgun.
Stereotypes aside, this is still Texas, and Jared and Jensen are still two high
school boys who are known to suck face on a regular basis, but as long as they
don’t stir anything up and act like they’re just friends in public, they’re
largely left alone. It is nice, though, when they can actually go on a date,
sit in a booth and make out if they wanna, without the chance that someone’ll
gang up on them once they leave.
That’s just what Jared does now, not wanting to talk about Boston, or try and
be excited for a life he just can’t have right now. He turns to kiss Jensen, a
little awkwardly, maybe, because of the angle, but it feels as right as it
always does. Jensen doesn’t protest, just opens his mouth and moves until Jared
can settle into him, kissing him in this slow, easy way that makes a slow burn
travel through Jared’s body and settle into his stomach.
Jared loses himself in the kiss, as he usually tends to, letting everything
fall away into the moment. Jensen’s hand has slipped under the hem of Jared’s
t-shirt and is gently brushing the skin there, making little passes with his
fingers, and it’s normal, perfect. For his part, Jared just arches into
Jensen’s touch, pliant and yielding, as the world stills around them.
Danneel has to clear her throat three times before they break apart, and Jared
can’t even dredge up the energy to feel sheepish. She’s balancing two plates,
their normal Sam’s fare, and by the way their cokes have left rings of
condensation on the table, this isn’t the first time she’s been back.
“I think that you just made that trucker over there vomit into his chicken-
fried steak,” she says, wrinkling her nose a little.
“You’re just sad because you don’t have time to yaya the sisterhood in the
bathroom right now,” Jensen says with a maddening smirk--he always has had more
of an ability to think after kissing than Jared does.
“You are fucking disgusting,” Danneel grimaces, shuddering dramatically. “And
you think more about pussy than any gay man I know.”
“We’re the only gay people you know, Danni,” Jared says slowly.
“Not true. I watch Will and Grace,” Danneel says. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m
off to another table where I won’t have to watch soft-core porn while I’m
trying to work.”
“Don’t be too depressed about it,” Jensen calls after her, still sticking to
Jared’s side like glue even though their food has been deposited on the table
and is smelling as good as it normally does.
Their elbows jostle as they eat, but Jensen doesn’t really seem to notice, and
Jared can’t make himself pull away. It’s not long before they finish and Jensen
fishes out a twenty, just enough to cover the bill and give Danneel a nice tip
so she won’t complain later. Afterwards, they meander through town, careful to
avoid the main strip and the old-age hicks who’re getting drunk even though
it’s not even five.
“Stay over,” Jensen murmurs in Jared’s ear, making him shiver.
“Jeff’ll kill me,” Jared says, but he already knows he’ll cave.
“Nah, he knows that me, Gen, and Danni’ll mob him if he tries.”
Jared thinks about saying, That didn’t stop him before but Jensen already has
enough on his plate, and Jared doesn’t want to reacquaint him with the shit-
storm that is his heavy-handed stepfather.
“Promise?” he asks instead, leaning that much further into Jensen’s side.
“You know I’ll always protect you, baby,” Jensen jokes, low enough for only
Jared, and Jared thinks, No you won’t, stupidly dramatic, before he follows
Jensen to his house.
**
Jared sits next to Jensen’s mama and cheers Jensen on when he walks across the
stage, valedictorian, wearing about every sash the school offers its students,
and he can’t help feeling proud, like he hadn’t known that Jensen was going to
get there. He pretends not to notice the tears making their way down Mama
Ackles’ face as he holds her trembling hand, tries to avoid the sick feeling in
his stomach as he sees just how bony her wrists have gotten.
When the ceremony ends, after a standing ovation to Jensen’s speech and a
tearful farewell from the principal who’s known all of her students since
kindergarten, Jared pushes ahead of the crowd that’s streaming off of the
stands, all fifty of them, and grabs Jensen in a hug so tight that Jensen’s
practically lifted off of the ground.
“You -- are -- such -- a -- girl,” Jensen laughs, but he wraps his arms around
Jared’s neck and lets him spin them both around. Jared doesn’t let go, even
when both of Jensen’s feet hit the ground, and he stands there, hugging Jensen
for just a couple seconds longer.
When he pulls away finally, Jensen looks happier than he has in a while,
accomplished and sun kissed, his cheeks pinking from the summer heat. Almost
immediately, Danneel bursts out of her own family, jumping on Jensen’s back,
almost knocking him over. Genevieve is close behind, pulling Jensen down so
they all almost collapse in a pile, and Jared is pulled back into the fray.
It’s just where Jared wants to be.
Eventually, Jensen untangles himself enough to hug his mother, who is still
obviously teary-eared.
“So proud of you,” she says fiercely, holding him tight, and a lump forms in
Jared’s throat making it hard to swallow. Jensen looks similarly affected as he
hangs onto her.
“Thanks, ma,” he says.
Jensen’s graduating class is only ten people big, so they all hold a joint
graduation party in the Beavers’ field. Jim is so happy for Danneel--his
adopted daughter--that he's drunk halfway through, throwing toasts to her and
Jensen and his other daughter--biological one, actually--Genevieve, until Sam
pulls him into the living room to pass out on the couch. No one even says
anything, because everyone who matters is in the yard, celebrating, and
everyone who doesn’t is somewhere else in the town, being small-minded and
exclusionary and definitely not part of the party.
It gets to be too much for Jared sometime around ten; all of the adults have
congregated on the porch as the kids mill around outside. Beer is flowing
freely, because the inhabitants of this town have always held the belief that
forbidding things as silly as alcohol is the easiest way to trouble. Jared is
nursing a nice buzz, but he’s not going any further--Jeff is a mean drunk, and
whenever Jared gets the chance to drink--which isn’t often, as he doesn’t
really like it--all he sees in every shadow is Jeffrey raising his hand, an
ugly expression on his face.
So, yeah. Drinking’s not really Jared’s thing.
He can tell that Jensen is wasted though, happy and loud like he usually isn’t
sober, shooting the shit with Danni and Steve as they pass a bottle of whiskey
around. Gen is hanging off Steve like he’s the second coming, and nobody really
notices when Jared wanders off alone into the line of the trees.
It’s been building for the past couple of weeks, but Jensen graduating has made
it more real. Jared’s all too aware that Jen will have to leave for college in
two months, two months, and that there’s nothing Jared can or will do about it.
Mama Ackles is getting weaker, but she won’t tell him or Jensen what’s going
on. The oppressive worry is getting worse, combining with how things are about
to go to shit, and only Jared knows. He has his plan now, and it’s awful--just
thinking about it is almost enough to make him physically ill--but it’ll work.
“What’s up, mopey?” Jensen says, too close, and Jared must’ve been really lost
in his thoughts if he missed Jen’s drunken approach.
“Not moping,” Jared says, even though he definitely is, and he kicks at the
dirt, lodging a stick further into the dust.
“Please,” Jensen says, and he kind of falls to the ground in a drunken heap. “I
could hear you angsting a mile away.”
“Didn’t keep you from fooling around with Danni and Steve and Gen,” Jared says
petulantly. “You didn’t seem to notice then.”
Jensen sort of swivels his head, a slow, lolling motion, and he looks almost
hurt. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, Jared,” he said, enunciating carefully. “I
came to find you. I knew you were gone. Just thought you wanted to be quiet.”
The way he says it, sad in a hung-dog kind of way, makes Jared feel awful.
“No, it’s not your fault,” Jared says softly. “I’m just in a bad mood. You
didn’t do anything.”
“What’s wrong?” Jensen asks, leaning his head against Jared’s shoulder, a solid
weight.
For a moment, Jared wants to spill, wants to let it all out, because he’s been
holding it in for so long, and he has to swallow the words down, careful to not
let them explode. Jensen isn’t nearly drunk enough to not remember this
tomorrow morning, and hell if Jared’s going to fuck this up because he’s a
fucking maudlin drinker.
“Nothing,” he says, and then amends, “Just...everything’s changing.”
“That’s a good thing,” Jensen says slowly, like he doesn’t get it. Jared’s
pretty sure he’s the only one who does.
“I guess,” Jared admits, lowly, scuffing at the ground again. He wants to shift
closer to Jensen, take that little comfort in just being pressed up against his
boyfriend, but he’s almost afraid something will happen if he does.
“You’re such a ‘fraidy cat,” Jensen says, laughing lightly, taking a pull from
the beer bottle that Jared hadn’t noticed him bringing out. “It’ll be awesome--
you’ll see. Just us, no Jeff, taking over Boston. The best time of our lives.”
Jared can’t listen to this, because he can see it so clearly, a future that he
can’t have. He lets himself imagine for the briefest second that he could go to
Boston with Jensen, get his own apartment, live his own life away from his
asshole stepfather and look-the-other-way mom, but he can’t and every time he’s
reminded of it something twists deeper in his stomach.
There’s only one tried and true way to shut Jensen up, especially if he’s had a
little too much to drink and is feeling particularly chatty, and Jared uses it
to his full advantage. When he’s drunk, Jensen’s reaction time is pathetically
slow, so when Jared twists his head and catches Jensen’s mouth with his own,
Jensen twitches in surprise before he lets out a startlingly loud moan and
opens his mouth wider. Jared kisses with a ferocity that surprises even him as
the desperation wells in his chest. He uses his hands to frame Jensen’s face,
make it so Jensen can’t move, and Jensen doesn’t even try, just gets on his
knees so he can press harder into Jared.
Jensen’s always been a slutty drunk, and Jared eventually lets him take the
lead, now that Jared’s instigated everything. When push goes to shove, Jared
knows all of Jensen’s tells, knows how to manipulate him, and he lets his hands
go limp as Jensen frames his wrists with his fingers. Jensen tugs lightly,
enough to make Jared move his arms, and then Jensen’s hands are all over him,
skimming down his ribs, up his back, and Jared can only cling to Jensen’s
shirt.
It feels like it always has--heady and sweet and right--and Jared moves enough
so that he can lay in the grass and not on a tree root, and Jensen is
immediately following him down, bracketing his body with his weight, kissing
eagerly, fucking his tongue into Jared’s mouth. Jared feels almost like an
exhibitionist--his friends are probably only two hundred feet away, close
enough that Jared can dimly hear them talking over the rush of blood in his
ears, and he knows exactly where this is going, but he’s too gone to stop it.
Almost as if he’s reading Jared’s mind, Jensen breaks the kiss roughly and
leans down so his mouth brushes Jared’s neck as he speaks. “Better be quiet,
Jay,” he warns, just a little slurred. “Don’t want them coming to investigate
if you make too much noise.” There’s a dirty promise in his tone that makes
Jared certain Jensen’s about to follow through with whatever he’s thinking, and
sure enough, Jensen rocks down a little, just enough that Jared can feel the
brush of Jensen’s erection against his belly. Jared can’t help but make a
little moan at that, cut off and desperate, because Jensen isn’t where Jared
needs him, too far up.
“You’ve always sucked at following directions,” Jensen says, and he’s panting a
little now, rucking himself against Jared’s stomach in slow, deliberate
movements, careful to keep away from Jared’s crotch. Jared keeps trying to arch
up into him, to get any kind of friction now that Jensen’s started this and
gotten Jared fucking hard and ready for it, but Jensen has been Jared’s
boyfriend for too long, knows all of the tricks. He somehow has enough brain
capacity, even drunk, to know how to drive Jared up the fucking wall.
“Jensen, please,” Jared says, more of a groan than anything else, and it earns
him nothing more than a quick nip of Jensen’s teeth and then the hard suction
of Jensen’s mouth--Jared is going to have an impressive hickey come tomorrow
morning. Jared pulls his hands up from where they’ve fallen and forcibly hauls
Jensen’s face to his so he can get a proper kiss. Jensen might be teasing now,
but Jared knows all of his tells, too, and if he can just distract Jensen
enough, he’ll stop with the maddening distraction of rubbing his dick against
Jared’s belly and actually go for the good stuff.
Jensen doesn’t seem to mind that Jared’s playing a little dirty, even though he
has to know what Jared’s doing, given the plea and the way Jared’s using every
trick he knows to kiss Jensen as dirtily as possible. It doesn’t take long as
Jared tugs Jensen’s tongue into his mouth, savoring the spitty beer flavor that
should be gross but really isn’t, and Jensen holds out for only a couple
minutes before he allows himself to fall into a more comfortable position,
which is happily one where his thigh has fallen between Jared’s legs, giving
him the friction he needs.
They’re both still fully clothed, and the layers of denim between them is
enough to mute the sensation just enough so Jared doesn’t immediately feel like
he’s going to fly off of the handle. They rock together, steady and practiced,
and Jared keeps kissing Jensen until he’s so close, he can’t anymore, just
panting into Jensen’s mouth.
Unsurprisingly, Jensen comes first, just stiffens and moans into Jared’s mouth
as he does so, and Jared has to pull Jensen down against him, both hands
against the swell of Jensen’s ass, to get that last bit of friction to get
himself over the edge. By the time he comes down from it, he’s breathing hard,
and the breeze is cooling the sweat on his face. His boxers are now
uncomfortably wet and that shit’s gonna dry and stick everywhere, but lying
here, in the warm grass, with Jensen above him, he feels like everything’s
gonna be okay.
“Love you, baby,” Jensen says, his post-sex high making him sleepy and clingy,
and Jared shivers a little.
“Love you too, asshole,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, but he can
already feel everything rushing back, clogging his throat with a lump he can’t
swallow past.
**
Now that school is out for the summer, Jared’s lost that distraction, and he
can’t help but keep his eye on the looming deadline. A million different times
he has to close his mouth against blurting the whole thing out, practically
every time Jensen asks him what’s wrong. He knows he’s acting differently, but
he can’t help it. He can’t tell Jensen, because he knows exactly what Jensen
will do, and it’s starkly opposite to what’s supposed to happen. So he keeps on
maintaining his poker face, hiding from Jensen as much as he can given the
amount of time they spend together. Ms. Rhodes, their supervisor at the
library, keeps putting them on the same shift, which is probably the stupidest
idea ever--whenever she’s busy, they sneak back to the nonfiction shelves that
no one ever visits and spend a couple of minutes making out--just like usual.
Jared starts spending almost every night over at Jensen’s, trying to make each
minute last. His mom never seems to notice, and it’s easier to avoid Jeff this
way, but somehow, every time he has to go somewhere else, somewhere without
Jensen, something twists in his chest.
Then Mama Ackles takes a turn for the worst.
She’s starkly against staying in the hospital, but it’s obvious she’s wasting
away. Jared sits in the waiting room with Jensen as she goes into her last
doctor’s appointment, alone as she’d insisted upon, and when she comes out, she
just looks tired.
“No more chemo for me, boys,” she says, her voice sandpaper rough. “No more
hospitals either. Thank the Lord.”
“Mama, what are you talking about?” Jensen asks, grabbing Jared’s hand and
practically breaking his fingers with his grip. “Is it gone?”
Mama Ackles sighs, a low, depressed exhalation, then cups Jensen’s cheek. “Not
quite, honey,” she says, and that’s all she’ll say about the situation.
Jared and Jensen take her home, Jensen’s hands bone white on the steering wheel
the entire way. Once they help Mama Ackles into the house, she says the drive
tired her out, and she slips into bed even though it’s only two in the
afternoon. Jared doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all,
just curls into Jensen’s side, and holds him through the shaking. They don’t
get any sleep that night.
There’s a steady stream coming in through Jensen’s door for the next couple of
days--old friends and lawyers, and even though Mama Ackles hasn’t confirmed it
in as many words, Jared knows what’s happening, and so does Jensen. Mrs.
Patterson, who’s lived down the street since before Jensen was born and has
been a nurse for even longer, stops by every day. Jensen doesn’t leave his
mom’s side very often, even though she scolds him for it in the odd times when
she’s awake. She’s not eating very much any more, and Jared can hear the hushed
whispers when he steps out into the house. Things like metastasized and dying.
More than once, he wakes up having to rub Jensen’s back as he cries quietly
into his pillow, trying not to cry himself even though it’s damn near
impossible. Mama Ackles is practically his mom too.
She stays steady till two days before Jared’s birthday, and by then, it’s all
Jared can do to hold on and keep Jensen standing. They’re there, sitting
together on the floor, not talking, because Mrs. Patterson took Jensen aside
the other day and told him it wouldn’t be long, not with how aggressive her
cancer was. But even though they were prepared, that final last gasping breath,
the last noise before there was nothing else, was enough to haunt Jared’s
nightmares. Jensen crawls up, still holding his mama’s hand like he has been
for practically two days, and puts his other hand on her shoulder.
“Mama?” he asks, his voice a reedy tremble. “Mama, are you okay?” He obviously
knows she isn’t, and Jared can feel himself almost at the edge of
hyperventilation when he stands up too.
“Mama, wake up,” Jensen says forcefully, shaking her shoulder. Nothing happens.
“Jensen,” Jared chokes, trying to touch Jensen’s back. Jensen just shifts away
violently and shakes his mom’s shoulder again.
“You’re not allowed to do this, mama,” Jensen says, and he sounds so angry.
Tears are falling unbidden down Jared’s face, but he can’t wipe them away.
Can’t bring himself to.
“Mama, wake up right now,” Jensen yells, sounding for all the world like the
words were torn clean from his throat, and Jared takes charge then, pulling
Jensen backwards with all of his strength and wrapping his arms around him in a
fierce hug.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he keeps saying, and he can’t
breathe and Jensen is wailing into his shoulder, holding onto Jared so hard
that he knows he’ll have bruises in the morning. He doesn’t care.
They stay in that little room, Jared clinging to Jensen, until the sun goes
down.
**
The next couple of weeks pass in a sort of numb shock. There’s the funeral, and
the will, and Jensen is just wandering around, barely functioning. He barely
eats, and Jared has to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t waste away.
It’s rough. It’s really rough, and Jared knows what he has to do in a couple of
weeks, and it’s tearing him up inside.
Jensen crawls out of his shell of grief, so slowly it’s hard to see, but he
starts talking about Boston, stilted at first, but gradually more involved.
Every time he does, every time Danni comes over and makes plans for how they’re
going to move Jensen to Harvard and Danni to Boston-U, all the while trying to
figure out how Jared’s going to fit into the picture, he has to pretend to be
invested. It’s incredibly tiring.
He spends his free time helping Jensen box up his life, donating what they can
of Mama Ackles’ leftover stuff. Jared takes care of most of that, because he
thinks Jensen might do something irrational if he has to deal with it. Sam and
Jim help them figure out how to put the house up for sale, because, as Jensen
says, he’ll have nothing left to come back here for after he leaves.
Jared supposes that’s right. That’s how it’ll be if his plan works.
The house sells quick, mostly because Jensen had it listed well below its
market value. He and his mama had kept it in good shape, and even though the
town is small, Grandma Bledel’s other daughter has been looking to move back
home. As far as Jensen’s concerned, everything is shaping up for his departure.
“It’s a sign,” he declares grimly one day, wiping dust from his nose. “We’re
getting out of here.”
Like always, the thought of being left behind is like taking a wrecking ball to
the stomach. Jared makes a noncommittal noise and spends the rest of the day
with his mind carefully blank.
**
Jared carefully works out a scenario that makes it less suspicious that he
hasn’t begun to pack up like Jensen and Danneel--they’re going to head to
Boston early, figure out orientation and get unpacked in the dorms, and then
Jared’s supposed to come the week after, apply for a crappy apartment close to
Harvard’s campus and start rebuilding his life.
Jensen is mutedly excited the night before he’s due to leave, everything
already loaded into Danneel’s clunker and ready for the long haul up north. The
house is empty, save for one lone air mattress that Jared’s sharing with him.
“Last night here,” Jensen murmurs. “It feels weird.”
“I’ll miss this house,” Jared says, shifting so he’s lying on his side, taking
all of Jensen in. He needs this night to last forever, but it’s already
slipping through his fingers.
Jensen makes a noise, half-agreeing, and scoots a little closer. They’re both
under a ratty sheet, and it’s almost too hot for it, but Jared aches for his
touch. “You know, this week’ll be the longest we’ve been apart in practically
forever.”
“At least you’ll have cute college co-eds to distract you,” Jared sighs. “I
have to stay here and deal with Jeff.”
“Your idea, genius,” Jensen says. “And don’t worry. I bet none of ‘em Harvard
boys are as hot as you.”
“I’m so sure,” Jared says, and leans close enough to brush his lips against
Jensen’s. If this is their last night, Jared wants it to be something good
enough for him to hold onto. Jensen takes the hint, lapses into silence, and
moves so they’re lying belly-to-belly, flush against each other. Jared takes
his time, mapping Jensen’s mouth, which has become almost as familiar as his
own by now. He takes it slowly, relinquishing the lead to Jensen, who’s gotten
the hint, and things build at an incremental pace as they kiss.
Jensen’s fingers are like static electricity against the soft skin of Jared’s
belly, inching his t-shirt further up his chest, mapping skin as thoroughly as
he’s exploring Jared’s mouth. Jared’s thrown his leg over Jensen’s and pulled
their lower bodies together, and there’s barely any space between them anymore,
but Jensen’s still able to pull Jared’s t-shirt over his head after a couple of
minutes, separating their kiss as he does so.
“You, too,” Jared pants, and he doesn’t even give Jensen time to respond before
he’s kissing him again. He hopes he doesn’t come off as desperate, but with
each passing second, he can feel the need growing brighter in his stomach.
Jensen’s shirt comes off with less teasing, less fanfare, and joins Jared’s in
a heap on the floor. As soon as that distraction’s gone, Jared drags his mouth
away from Jensen and begins kissing his way down Jensen’s throat, nipping at
all the sensitive spots he knows from memory. Jensen’s still skimming his
fingers along Jared, his fingers bringing goosebumps in their wake, and Jared
uses all of his remaining concentration on how that feels, on how Jensen feels,
the taste of him beneath Jared’s tongue and the sweep of his touch on Jared’s
nape.
Jensen doesn’t let Jared move far enough away to get any lower than his neck,
and their legs are tangled enough that the insistent heat of Jensen’s erection
is as obvious to Jared as his own is.
“I want you to fuck me,” Jared whispers into Jensen’s skin. “Make it good,
cowboy.”
Jensen runs his fingers through Jared’s hair, his eyes glinting in the barely-
there moonlight. “Always,” he says, his words hanging heavy in the air. It
sounds like more than a promise of a good night, and Jared feels his heart
break just a little further.
Even though Jared’s given him permission, Jensen still takes his time, gently
rolling Jared onto his back. Jared’s anchored by his touch, the wet slide of
his tongue, the press of his lips, kiss swollen and sweet. The need is still
there, but he needs this, too, this feeling like he’s the only one in the world
to Jensen right now. He tries to pay it back in kind, catching his kisses on
Jensen’s skin when Jensen decides to give the rest of Jared’s body attention.
The only noises in the air are Jared’s exhalations, little gasps and moans, as
Jensen’s lips drag over every inch they can get at. Jared can’t stop from
keeping his hands anchored on Jensen’s body, craving that last confirmation,
and by the time Jensen finally gets around to dragging Jared’s sleep pants down
over his hips, Jared’s practically at his breaking point. He still has Jensen,
right now, in this moment, but he won’t tomorrow night, and his throat’s aching
like he’s about to cry. For the millionth time, he wonders how he’s supposed to
give this up.
“I don’t have anything here,” Jensen says, loud in the stillness, and even
though he doesn’t elaborate, Jared knows what he’s talking about.
“Under the mattress, my side,” Jared says, somewhat breathlessly, his mind
still muddled, and Jensen contorts so he can fumble around till he finds what
he’s looking for.
“No condom,” Jensen murmurs, as he drops the half-used tube of KY next to
Jared’s neck.
“Don’t need it,” Jared responds, grabbing Jensen’s hand and kissing his wrist
in a pique of sentimentality. “Just want to feel you today.”
“But...” Jensen trails off, and Jared knows that barebacking turns Jensen’s
crank so hard even though they hardly ever chance it.
Jared thinks back to the pills, hiding under all of his socks back home, and
pulls Jensen’s face down for the thousandth kiss that night. “Got it covered,”
Jared says. “Stop stalling, or I’m gonna go to sleep.”
“Pfft, empty threat,” Jensen mumbles, but he’s kicking off his pants, boxers,
and there’s all this skin. He gives Jared one last kiss, and then he’s sloppily
making his way down Jared’s body with his fingers and mouth, snagging the lube
as he goes.
Jared never really cares for the prep, the burn, but it’s all worth it in the
end, he supposes. Jensen knows just how to do it by now, the king of winding
Jared up, and he purses his lips over the tip of Jared’s dick just as his first
finger slides inside. Jared arches up, into Jensen’s mouth, and away from the
intrusion, but Jensen unerringly finds that spot within him, and it becomes
less of a distraction and more of a welcome pleasure.
Jensen spends his time working Jared open, plenty of lube supplemented by
plenty of teasing cocksucking, and Jared’s tossing his head back and forth on
the pillow by the time he’s ready. “C’mon, c’mon,” he’s saying on repeat. “Stop
fucking around, Jensen, you know I’m good for it, get up here.”
Jensen pulls off with an obscene pop and his fingers disappear. Jared’s asshole
clenches emptily, and then Jensen’s back up at face-level, propping himself up
and surrounding Jared. When he kisses Jared, Jared can taste himself, and he
loses himself in that until Jensen pushes in, and the only thing Jared can
think is, on repeat, my Jensen, mine.
Jensen doesn’t stop kissing him, even as he stills and waits for Jared to get
used to him inside, and when he starts moving, it’s a gentle, slow, dragging
thrust that makes Jared gasp into his mouth and keen as Jensen blindly grabs at
Jared’s thigh and coaxes it wordlessly to wind around his hip. Jared keeps
rolling back into it, shivering into Jensen’s touch, needing the connection.
Jared can tell when Jensen’s close, just by the way that he speeds up
incrementally, his kisses becoming less precise. Jared’s approaching that peak
just as quickly, and Jensen wraps his hand around Jared’s erection, precome
slicking the way as Jensen gently begins to stroke Jared’s cock, his grip
tighter and his hand faster as Jared whines for it, and when he finally falls
over the ledge, coming into Jensen’s fist, over his belly, the blankness is
perfect and all-encompassing.
He’s barely calming down, his chest still heaving, when Jensen thrusts hard, a
couple of times, and then there’s that curious sensation of actually feeling
him coming inside Jared. Jared shivers a little at the sensation, and uses the
rest of his concentration to kiss Jensen thoroughly through his orgasm.
The aching emptiness he feels when Jensen pulls out is almost overwhelming. He
can feel the grossness, the wet seeping out of him, but even more, he feels
like something’s been taken from him. He clutches tighter at the back of
Jensen’s neck to compensate.
“Girl,” Jensen accuses, sleepy now that he’s gotten off. “Closet snuggler.” His
words totally don’t tie with his actions though, as he curls around Jared,
pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
“Fuck you,” Jared admonishes. “Don’t ruin the afterglow, asshole.”
“Anything for you, baby,” Jensen says, sleep-slurred, and Jared doesn’t follow-
up, just concentrates on how Jensen’s breathing evens out and becomes deep, his
chest rising in expected intervals.
“Anything,” Jared says, so quiet he’s not even sure he hears himself. He
doesn’t fall asleep that night.
**
Danneel is maybe twenty minutes from being there, and Jared’s so torn up he
thinks he might be physically sick. Jensen is excited, Jared knows, the first
positive emotion he’s shown in forever, and Jared’s about to tear that from
him. He’s bounding around, making sure he’s gotten everything from the various
cubby-hole hiding places he has all over the house, a ball of nervous energy.
“Jensen,” Jared says, and his voice catches in his throat. “Jensen, can you
come here for a sec?”
“What’s up, Jared?” Jensen asks, and it’s a tell of how much he’s looking
forward to Boston, because he hasn’t even asked Jared why he looks like shit,
and Jared knows he does, all dark circles and ashy skin. “Boston, can you
believe it?” Jensen bursts, before Jared can get a word in edgewise. “I never
thought we’d make it.”
“Jensen, I need to talk to you,” Jared says, his voice edgy.
That makes Jensen stand still. Maybe it’s the way Jared’s voice rings in the
still air, maybe it’s the way he’s standing. Jensen’s forehead furrows, like
it’s the first time he’s really seeing Jared this morning.
“You okay, Jay?” he asks concernedly. “You don’t look so good there. What do
you need?”
“I’m not coming,” Jared says, and his heart’s beating about a million miles an
hour.
Jensen’s face is still confused, wrinkling his forehead. “Not coming where?
What are you talking about?”
“To Boston, Jensen,” Jared clarifies, his throat sticky. “I’m not coming to
Boston.”
“Yeah, you are,” Jensen says. “We have it all planned out, Jay.”
“You have it all planned out,” Jared counters. “I just, I can’t.”
“Is this about your mom?” Jensen asks. “Or Jeff? C’mon Jared, you have to
come.” He’s sounding a little desperate now, and it takes all of Jared’s
strength to keep going.
“It’s about me. I can’t, Jensen. I have a life here. A job and my sister and my
mom and school. Jensen, I can’t uproot myself like this.”
“What the fuck, Jared?” Jensen asks, and he sounds more than angry now, on the
edge. “Where the fuck was this all summer? When I applied?”
“I just--you wanted it so bad. I didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t go.”
“I’m not going if you’re staying here,” Jensen says stubbornly.
“Yes, you are,” Jared explodes. “This is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d
give this up, Jensen, and this is your dream.”
“Jared, I’m not doing this without you,” Jensen says staunchly.
“You have to,” Jared snaps. “I’m not letting you give this up.” He’s repeating
himself, he knows, but this is what he’s been telling himself all summer to
give him the strength to go through with this.
“So what, I have to leave you? I’d rather stay here and work in the library for
the rest of my life than go without you.” Jensen is so angry, so determined,
and Jared wants to be able to fix it, stop what he’s doing, but he can’t.
“You’re worth more than that! You deserve to go get your education, to find
someone who loves you, to live your life.” The words are tearing themselves
from Jared’s throat, unbidden and heavy.
Jensen physically recoils, taking a big step backwards. “What are you talking
about, Jared?” he asks. “Someone who loves me? I already have that.”
“No, you don’t,” Jared says, and even though he’s about to cry, his voice isn’t
betraying any of it. “I’m sorry. I tried. I can’t help it.”
“Can’t help what, Jared?” Jensen asks, and his voice is shaking.
“I’m not in love with you anymore,” Jared says, softly, meekly.
“Yes, you are,” Jensen says, and he sounds like Jared just launched a grenade
at his chest.
“I’m not. It happened before everything happened with Mama Ackles. I don’t know
when--just one day, I realized I wasn’t happy. It’s not your fault. I’m just
fucked in the head. I always have been.” It’s like now that he’s started, he
can’t stop. The vitriol is spilling from his mouth, unwarranted and completely
untrue, but if it’s what he needs to do to make sure Jensen’s in that car to
Boston, it’s what he’ll say.
“You’re fucking lying,” Jensen spits, and he’s in Jared’s face again. It takes
all of Jared’s willpower not to cave, not to break down and say that, yes, he’s
fucking lying, he’s a fucking coward.
“I’m not. I just, I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t tell you, not when I
was sure and your mama was sick. I couldn’t take that from you.” The anguish
flooding Jared’s voice now is entirely real, just not fueled by the words he’s
saying.
“So you stayed with me out of pity?” Jensen asks, breathing hard.
“I couldn’t...” Jared trails off.
“What the fuck, Jared?” Jensen asks. “What the fucking fuck? What was last
night, huh?”
“I had to make sure!” Jared yells.
“Glad I fucking turned you away then. Made up your fucking mind then! You’re a
good goddamn actor, Jared!”
“I’m sorry,” Jared says again, helplessly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Well good fucking job on that,” Jensen says harshly.
“We were friends before this, Jen. We can be friends again. I’ll stay here, and
you’ll go to school, and eventually it’ll be like we were never together.”
“In your fucking dreams, Jared,” Jensen spits.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Jared pleads. “I just--I can’t lie to you anymore.”
“Fuck off,” Jensen says, and then he twirls and punches the doorframe, hard
enough that Jared’s hand aches in sympathy.
“Jensen--”
“I mean it, Jared. Fuck. Off.”
Jared has so many more things to say, but Jensen looks like he’ll take a swing
at Jared next. He wants it, god, deserves it, but Jensen would hate himself
later. So Jared, raw and broken, hangs his head and slinks outside to walk
home.
It’s the last time he sees Jensen for a very long time.
***
The news breaks fast as Jared stays clustered in his bed. Apparently Danneel
and Jensen leave, but not quickly enough for Danneel to not share what happened
with Genevieve, and soon after, the whole town knows, probably just by the way
Danneel wasn’t very quiet about it when she lets Gen know exactly what she
thought of the situation in the diner in front of the morning rush.
Jared doesn’t know this.
He pretty much stays in his room and doesn’t do anything. His mama tries half-
heartedly to get him to get up, shower, eat, something, and Jeff comes in
mostly to tell him that he’s a lazy shithead, but nothing really comes out of
it. He’s not dramatic enough to try to put it into words--it feels like dying,
though, even though he knows he isn’t. There’s this sort of deep blankness that
originates in his stomach and burrows itself into his head, and when he dwells
on it, all he can think about is how things are never going to be right again.
Jared knows he’s pathetic. He knows it’s his fault. But he’s kind of fucked up
his life so royally, he has no idea how to piece it back together.
By the time school rolls around again, Jared has lost about ten pounds, and
hasn’t spoken a single word in over two weeks. His mother forces him to go,
getting Jeff to pull him out of bed, and when she isn’t looking, Jeff uses some
choice words to let him know that if he doesn’t get his ass to school, he’ll be
fucking sorry. So Jared does, drags himself into the shower and washes the
grease out of his hair and gets to school on time. It’s just as easy to be
fucking miserable and empty in class as it is to be at home.
Genevieve has steered clear of him, and when Jared sees her for the first time
in weeks, he knows she’s aware of what he did. The first look she gives him is
kind of awful, but she does a double-take and her face floods with concern.
Jared doesn’t fucking care. She can’t help, so he just walks past her, finds
his homeroom, and sits down with his head on his desk.
Somehow, he makes it through the day, though he’s not entirely sure he took
anything in. He feels tired, drained, and the thought of going home to sleep is
so tempting that he could cry with it. Things are easier asleep. But if he
calls off work one more time, he’s probably in a lot of trouble, and he needs
the job. Jeff will whoop his ass if he gets fired, and even though the thought
of going to the library--back to another place that he associates with Jensen--
is practically overwhelmingly awful, he knows that shelving, in all its rhythm
and monotony, will be calming, at least.
Genevieve catches him by his locker with a rough hand to his shoulder. Everyone
else has been ignoring him all day, but she’s never been one to take his
bullshit. “You,” she says, one eyebrow raised, her face set in a deep scowl,
“are a dumbass. And you look like crap.”
“Thanks,” Jared mumbles, because what do you say to that? He can’t tell Gen
what really happened, because she’ll tell Danneel, and then Jensen will come
back and that is not happening.
“I’m serious. What the fuck, Jared?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jared says staunchly. “Please--can we just
leave it alone? Please?”
Genevieve sighs, a deep, put-upon noise. “You know, you’re not fooling anyone.
Except maybe Jensen, who’s probably just as much of an idiot as you are, and,
according to Danneel, practically suicidal at this point.”
“He’ll get over it,” Jared says, and what he meant to say was, He’ll get over
me.
“I’m not taking any of this self-pity crap,” Gen says sternly. “So don’t feed
it to me. Either you call Jensen and tell him why you decided to be the world’s
biggest dick, or you stop moping around and take your decision like a man.”
“I’m trying,” Jared snaps, more vigor than he’s shown all day. “It’s just--
fuck, Genevieve, I really don’t wanna talk about it. I did what I did, and I
said what I said, and it’s all done and true, and I’ve just got to get on with
my life. And Jensen has his own shit to deal with, and I’m sorry I hurt him--
I am, but this is how it’s gotta be. I needed to do it. And I don’t care if you
don’t agree or if you think I’m being stupid, but I made my decision a long
time ago, and I don’t need you giving me crap about it.”
Genevieve looks at Jared for a long time, cool and calculating. “He’s not gonna
wait around for you forever, you know,” she says, quietly, almost sadly.
“I hope he doesn’t,” Jared says shortly. “And I gotta get to work, Gen, I’m
sorry.”
“See you tomorrow, Jared,” she says, and then Jared’s off, going to try and
find some equilibrium again so he can at least feel as though he isn’t walking
around spewing blood from some unknown wound.
**
It’s hard, and it doesn’t get easier, but Jared has to live his life. Even if
he wanted to (and there are definitely times when he does), there’s no way he
can just lie in bed and waste away. He’s not that much of a romantic heroine,
and besides, home is a far cry worse than school. Genevieve, stubborn as she
is, keeps pushing him, wanting to know about what’s going on with him, what
happened, and he can’t tell her, so he takes to avoiding her. It’s incredibly
lonely--besides Jensen, Gen and Danneel were the closest friends he had, and
now it’s like he’s managed to alienate himself from everyone. He spends most of
September at the library, doing homework, shelving books, trying to keep his
mind occupied.
September is giving way to October when he first feels it, wakes up and
immediately has to run to the bathroom to vomit. When the nausea persists, he
wonders if he’s given himself stress ulcers or gotten sick from being so
fucking pathetic, but when he’s still having to sneak out of fourth period art
to run across the hall and upchuck in the boys’ bathroom--not even making it to
the toilet sometimes--after two weeks, he’s getting really fucking annoyed by
it.
He thinks about going to the clinic but dismisses the idea almost instantly--
Jeff would be pissed at the copay coming due in the mail, and Jared doesn’t
want to deal with it. So he’s getting sick--so what. He knows he’s not dying.
He’s sitting in a study carrel after his shift, idling on a computer that’s
probably ten years old, playing around with web MD trying to get an inkling of
what he might have. He’s almost 100% sure it’s going to say cancer, because Web
MD is just a crackpot tool for hypochondriacs, but he’s bored, and he’s not
going home, and playing around on the internet is a lot better than thinking
about Jensen and shutting down for the night.
He scrolls through the results of his symptom checker apathetically--flu, food
poisoning, gastritis, and then he hovers the mouse over one word.
Pregnancy
He scoffs to himself, because come on, he’s being a fucking dumbass. There’s no
way he’s that stupid--and the thought that Web MD is just making things worse
makes him mad enough to click the window closed and slam the chair against the
wall. He goes to a desk to read--read something that isn’t fucking psychotic,
thank you--until he has to go home.
Except, now that the idea’s been introduced, it takes root in his head and
won’t leave. He wakes up one morning, nauseous and exhausted, and rolls over
and opens his bedside table. He hasn’t been taking his pills--not since Jensen-
-but the package is half-empty in even increments, not a day missed, and Jared
makes a little noise in the back of his throat.
“Fucking stupid,” he mutters to himself, then gets up to hang his head in the
toilet till he feels well enough to go to school.
**
Now that he’s gone and made a thing out of it, Jared can’t seem to shake
whatever it is that’s made him sick in the first place. He knows he should go
to a doctor--no way is this normal--and he’s about to tell his mama that
something’s wrong, but he has to know. He has to make sure, because his mama
has never let him go into the doctor’s office alone, especially since he’s not
yet eighteen, and if the doctor tells him it’s...that he’ll never be able to
figure out a contingency plan to get things under control again with her in the
loop.
There’s one drug store in town, a mom and pop place that’s managed to not be
bought out by CVS, and it’s general knowledge that the back corner affords
customers the perfect blind spot for which to get up to no good. Jared’s never
actually taken advantage of it, not like the kids who sneak back there with
six-packs sneakily grabbed from the shelves to pilfer as many beer cans as
possible for an illicit, under-the-radar party, or the jocks who know that if
they actually buy the condoms, the whole town will know in a day flat.
Jared uses this to his advantage now. He waves at Mrs. Graham, who’s involved
in her tabloid, and quickly gets down to business, plucking a shopping basket
from the caddy by the front door. He wanders aimlessly up and down the aisles,
picking up some candy at random and a toothbrush, and when he gets to the
pregnancy tests, thankfully sequestered next to the hand soaps and lotions--the
store’s not that big, after all--he sweeps two male-approved ones into his
basket and tries as nonchalantly as possible to work his way to the back.
He keeps sneaking looks near the front to make sure no one else has come in and
that Mrs. Graham’s attention is still focused on her magazine before he turns
his back and makes quick work of the boxes, pulling them open to get at the
contents, shoving everything deep into his sweatshirt pocket. It doesn’t take
very long, and he spends the walk to checkout surreptitiously making sure that
he doesn’t look obvious.
Mrs. Graham barely looks at him as she snaps her gum and rings him through,
giving him his change, and Jared’s heart is beating a million miles a minute by
the time he gets outside. But the sheriff doesn’t come out of nowhere, and Mrs.
Graham doesn’t chase him down, so he figures he got away with it.
Jared isn’t stupid enough to go home with two pregnancy tests; Jeff might be
dense, but he has a keen nose for when Jared’s up to no good, and getting
caught like this is not in the plan. When he gets through the doors of the
library, he ducks immediately into the men’s room, and thankfully, it’s quiet
for a Wednesday night.
It takes him several minutes, locked inside the stall, to get up the nerve to
actually go through with it. He waits as someone comes in, pees, and leaves,
and then, with shaking fingers, takes the test and instructions out of his
pocket. He reads through what he’s supposed to do four times, feeling sick in a
way that has nothing to do with nausea, and then shakes himself out of it. It’s
gonna be negative, he tells himself. Stop being such a damn coward.
It’s awkward, peeing into the little cup that came with the test, and he feels
like a dumbass when he sets it on the floor and puts the little stick in it.
This was such a stupid idea. It’s ages before he talks himself into actually
reading the results, and even though he tries to tell himself that he’s being
stupid, that it will obviously say it’s negative, his heart is beating so hard
he thinks he might faint from it like a pansy.
For a long time, he just sits there and looks at the results, and nothing is
registering anymore besides what’s in his hand, not how he’s started to shake
or how someone’s just come into the bathroom. Just at the little pink plus, and
he’s not stupid--he knows what that fucking means.
Positive.
Fucking perfect.
**
It’s sunny and hot as Jared stumbles outside, but he doesn’t feel anything but
numb shock. He just walks, not any idea to where he’s going until he gets
there, and even then he ducks into the field to sit down for a second and will
himself not to vomit. He doesn’t even know if Gen is home or if she’s at the
diner, but he needs her, suddenly, violently. He can’t keep doing this--he
thinks he’s gonna explode from it, and she’s the only one left.
His footsteps echo on the porch, and he rings the doorbell; at first, he’s sure
no one’s home, and he’s almost relieved by it, but then someone’s bounding down
the stairs.
“Coming!” he hears, and that’s definitely Genevieve turning the deadbolt and
opening the door. For a second she just looks at him, first with her eyebrow
raised in a sort of accusing stare before her face softens in concern.
“Jared?” she says, stepping outside in her stocking feet, touching his arm.
“You look like you’re gonna fall over.”
For a second, he can’t say anything, can’t voice what he’s feel, the
overwhelming wrongness of everything.
“I’m so fucked,” he says, croaking, and he rests his head on her shoulder. “I’m
so, so fucked.”
**
November, 2013
Jensen knows Danneel’s planning something even before she says anything. She’s
been shooting him looks all evening, calculating and shrewd, and his skin’s
practically crawling from it.
“Do you know what she wants?” he asks Chris, hunkering down on the couch and
tucking his feet under him. “She’s freaking me out.”
“She’s your best friend, not mine,” says Chris, putting his arm around Jensen’s
shoulder and pulling him in close.
“You’re my boyfriend,” Jensen says petulantly. “You’re supposed to, I don’t
know, figure out these things and protect me from scary she-bitches.”
“I will cut your balls off, Jensen,” Danneel warns as she comes out of her
kitchen, juggling three bottles of beer and a bowl of chips. But Jensen knows
her, and she’s absentmindedly gnawing on her bottom lip as she sets everything
down on the chipped, good-will coffee table. Chris immediately digs in, taking
a long pull of his beer, but Jensen keeps giving Danneel the eye.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, too tersely for the situation, and
Jensen has a feeling that whatever she wants isn’t something he’s going to be
happy giving.
He sighs, low and heavy in his belly, and arches an eyebrow. “Will you just let
it out already?” he says. “Stop beating around the fucking bush.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responds, trying for airy, but he
can tell she’s not going to last by the way she’s not looking at him. He just
crosses his arms and remains silent, and sure enough, she snaps.
“Fine,” she says, raising her doe-eyes and doing a very good convincing
expression. “I want to go home for Christmas break.”
Whatever Jensen had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “So go home,” he says.
“I’ll just stay here with Chris.”
“I want us to go home for Christmas,” she says, stressing the word us to the
point of annoyance. “You, me, and Chris too, ‘cause his parents are off being
douchebags on an exclusive old-people cruise--no offense, Chris.”
“None taken,” he mumbles through his mouthful, because it’s not like he hasn’t
said the same thing a million times since his parents abandoned him for another
holiday alone.
The icy pit that had formed in the bottom of Jensen’s stomach at the mention of
home starts churning. “Danneel,” he says. “No.”
“C’mon, Jensen,” she wheedles, somewhat desperately. “I haven’t been home since
we came here. Everyone misses you, Sam and Dad and Gen. You don’t have anywhere
else to be!”
“It might be home for you, Danni,” Jensen says stonily, “but it hasn’t been
that for me for a long time.”
“I know--” Danneel starts, but Jensen cuts her off.
“Danneel, I can’t,” he says angrily. “You know how I feel about--there.”
“Exactly,” she shoots back passionately. “Bad shit went down for you, I know. I
know, Jensen. But there are still people who love you and miss you and by
avoiding home, you’re hurting them, you know. They understand, but they want to
see you. Plus you haven’t visited your mama’s grave since the funeral.”
“Don’t talk about that,” Jensen says harshly. He can feel that Chris has tensed
up next to him but at the moment, he doesn’t care. “Don’t you say anything
about her.”
“I loved your mama, too, Jensen,” Danneel says, her voice wobbly. “And you’re
my best friend. But you’re hiding here, and you have to stop!”
“What if I run into him, huh?” Jensen asks, and he feels Chris’s eyes on his
face. “I’m not--I--Danneel.”
“It’s been three years, and Gen promises she’ll make sure he doesn’t stop by.
Please. For me. I want to go home but I don’t want to leave you here.”
“Who’s he?” Chris interjects. “Who are you talking about?”
“No one,” snaps Jensen. “Danneel, come on. This isn’t fair.”
“I’m not gonna use the you-owe-me card,” she says quietly. “But think about it?
For me? I haven’t seen Dad or Gen in over a year. I miss them.”
Jensen doesn’t know how to follow-up to that, so he just sinks back into the
couch and takes deep breaths to distill the panicked feeling that clawed its
way into his chest at the mention of home. Chris, for his part, is looking
between Danneel and Jensen warily, confusedly.
The conversation moves on, somewhat stiltedly and heavily dependent on Chris,
but Jensen hardly pays attention.
Home.
Jesus fucking Christ.
**
Texas is just how he remembers it, warm and dry, the same faded brown paint on
every house. Nothing new has been built since he left, and it’s almost like
he’s stepping into the past when Danneel pulls into town, driving too slowly
down the one and only main road through town. Jensen is trying to pretend that
he’s not about to vomit, and Chris has an arm slung comfortingly around his
shoulders. Danneel is keeping up a steady stream of happy chatter, but the
looks she keeps slanting Jensen’s way are freaking him out.
When they pull up in front of Danneel’s house, Jensen’s heart jumps so hard he
thinks it might’ve broken free in his chest. He’s nervous--knows he shouldn’t
be--but he can’t help but think Jared is behind that door, waiting. Stop being
stupid, he tells himself, but he takes the longest unloading his stuff from the
trunk so Danneel can be the one to go inside first.
He’s only halfway up the drive when Genevieve bursts out of the door and
tackle-hugs him. He has barely talked to her in the past three years even
though they’d been close before he left, but she’s the same, if a little older,
all smiles and sarcastic humor. “Missed you, you big idiot,” she says warmly
when she backs away. “Took you long enough to visit.”
“You could always come back up to Boston,” he reminds her, but he can’t help
grinning. He feels abjectly bad that he hasn’t made the effort to keep in
touch, but she always felt too close, too back-home, and in the end, he had
never been able to reach out and make the call.
“I hate the city,” she says petulantly, scowling. “It’s dirty and loud and you
and Danneel are frickin’ crazy for moving there.”
“Only because your dad brainwashed you into thinking like that,” he says
lightly, ignoring her huff. Jim has always lived in small towns, and when he’d
come to visit Danneel, he’d nearly had a heart attack from the busy-ness of
Boston. It had been fairly amusing, but the result of the visit made Danneel
hard-pressed to persuade her dad to come again. “Speaking of which?”
“He’s inside,” Gen says. “He’s been waiting all day for you guys. Sam too; she
didn’t even go into the diner. Left Martha in charge.”
“Oh god,” Jensen groans. “She’s been cooking all day, hasn’t she?”
“Be prepared to gain ten pounds,” Gen says grimly. “And let’s get inside; my
feet are frickin’ freezing.” Sure enough, she’d run out without shoes and
Jensen looks down to see her toes curling against the pavement.
The house smells excellent, cinnamon-sweet and warm, and he’s barely over the
threshold before Sam’s folding him in a tight hug. “About damn time you got
back to town,” she says when she lets him go, only for Jim to give him a one-
armed hug of his own.
“Sorry,” he says, feeling chagrinned.
“Just don’t make this visit a one-time thing,” Jim says sternly but Jensen can
tell by the crinkle of his eyes that he’s not really mad.
“Promise,” Jensen says, but he’s not sure he means it.
“You’re too skinny, boy. Come on, supper’s ready. I’ll get some meat on your
bones yet,” Sam declares, and Jensen can see Gen mouthing told you so behind
her back.
“God, it’s been forever since a home-cooked meal,” Danneel moans, and Jensen
can’t help but laugh.
“You got that right,” he says, and Chris sidles up, a solid weight beside him,
and together they walk into the kitchen.
**
The week goes by with little drama. Jensen keeps thinking he’ll run into Jared
or have to hear about him, but the family’s keeping surprisingly mum, and when
they venture out of the house, he doesn’t see anyone he’s not expecting to.
Genevieve has made good on her promise that Jared will stay clear, and Jensen
can’t decide how he feels about it. Relief, of course, because Jared fucked him
up so badly he’s still not sure he’s over it, but some vindictive part of him
wants to find him. He wants to throw his new life in Jared’s face. Look, he’ll
say. You didn’t ruin me. I’m fine. I’ve moved on with my life. I’m getting a
degree at the best college in America and I have a gorgeous new boyfriend, and
you’re nothing. You’re stuck in this stupid town, and you’ll die here.
He keeps running the words over in his head, a sort of vindictive litany that
he doesn’t share with Danneel or Chris. Chris still doesn’t know what went on
with Jared, but Danneel must have given him the bare bones of the story because
Chris keeps shooting sidelong glances at Jensen like he expects him to break
down. Which is just fucking ridiculous; it’s been three years, and no matter
what Danneel says, Jensen feels as strongly for Chris as Chris feels for him.
Christmas is weird, especially since he’s back in town. Back when his momma was
still alive, they’d wake up and go downstairs to huddle by the tree, an
artificial plastic one covered in ornaments that’d been hand-crafted by Jensen
over the years, bejeweled in hundreds of colored lights. They’d wait, and sure
enough, Jared would come over with wide smiles and a bag-full of presents; his
mom and Jeff never really noticed when he skipped out because Christmas wasn’t
a big deal for them. They’d spend the morning passing gifts around and
listening to the radio play Christmas music, and once everything was opened,
Jensen’s mama would make them cinnamon rolls and afterwards they’d lie around
and fool around with their new gifts and watch Christmas specials all day.
It’s different here. Present-opening is a giant melee, and by the time it’s
over, Jensen doesn’t know what everyone else got. Chris had unearthed something
from under a blanket that had turned out to be a secondhand guitar, which
shamed Jensen’s present to him.
“I thought you deserved your own,” Chris said with a cute pink flush on his
face, and Jensen can’t help but kiss him, short and sweet. He’s been learning
how to play for the past year and a half, plucking out chords, and now he has a
guitar of his own to play on. Danneel’s looking at him with this half-smile
when he gets it, but there’s something about Gen’s face that twists Jensen’s
stomach. It’s gone when he looks back, her expression cheerful again, but it
sits with him for the rest of the morning.
They have eggs and bacon for breakfast, and Jensen can’t help but think of the
last Christmas he had here, when his mama was sick and Jared made a mess in the
kitchen making cinnamon rolls. Something settles in his chest, thick and heavy,
and it stays with him for the rest of the day.
**
There isn’t much to do around town, so the four of them spend a lot of time
streaming movies on Chris’s laptop and playing cards, talking and catching up.
But there’s this thing that keeps niggling in the back of Jensen’s head, and
one day, when Danni, Chris and Gen are off to the movie theater to see a movie,
Jensen begs off sick. Chris wants to stay behind, but Jensen talks him out of
it.
“I’ll just be sleeping, man. Go! Have a good time without me!” Chris gives him
one last look as Danni ushers him out the door, and Jensen would feel guilty if
he wasn’t feeling so damn anxious. As soon as he hears the rumble of Danneel’s
engine leave the driveway, he sneaks out the door, past Jim who’s sleeping in
his recliner, and starts on a steady jog down the street.
He feels like he’s doing something wrong, even though he isn’t, and his heart’s
in his throat but not from the running. It takes ten minutes to get to his
destination, which isn’t nearly enough time to prepare him, and he skirts
around the back of Jared’s house, clenching and unclenching his hands.
Jared’s window is dark, which is a good sign, and Jensen hunkers down in the
bushes to look in to the living room. He can make out Jeff, sprawled on the
couch, and Jared’s mama, and then. Then there’s Jared, cleaning the kitchen.
Jensen only gets a glance of him before he has to look away, practically
shaking from it.
“Stop being a fucking coward,” Jensen hisses, and before he can talk himself
out of it, he’s swinging himself into the tree that has a branch that extends
right out to Jared’s window. It’s risky--something he hardly ever did back when
he and Jared had still been...whatever they’d been, but Jensen can’t exactly go
through the cellar. Half of him is screaming to go back, go to Danneel’s house
and pretend nothing happened, but something stronger tells him he needs this.
It’s a quick climb, and Jensen’s luck holds because none of the branches have
rotted away with age. He crawls close enough to try the window, and for a
second, he’s sure that Jared’s started locking it, but it swings open without a
hitch, and Jensen eases himself into the room. And then he promptly trips over
Jared’s bed, which is not in the same place it used to be, and only by the
grace of God does Jensen manage to not make a noise. He’s confused for a
second, because Jared’s room had stayed the same since elementary school, the
only thing showing the passage of time being the pictures on the wall, and only
now has he changed it? He gropes around until he finds Jared’s nightstand and
flicks on the lamp. The glow of the light is soft enough that no one will
notice, and Jensen tells himself that he’s only going to wait an hour or so,
give himself enough time to get back before Chris and Danneel, and if Jared
doesn’t come up, that is that.
Jensen’s eyes skip over the room, taking it in, but before they can get too
far, something catches his attention and he gasps, because where there used to
be a bookshelf, there’s a crib.
“What the fuck?” he whispers, more mouthing the words to himself than saying
them aloud, and before he knows it, he’s crossing the room. He looks over the
edge of the bars, almost convinced that there’ll be nothing inside, but this
little girl is sleeping there, rucked up on her stomach with her thumb in her
mouth. Jensen’s breath catches immediately because it’s like he’s stepped into
the Twilight Zone--there is a kid in Jared’s room, one with messy blonde hair,
in pink pajamas, and what the fuck is going on?
The more he looks at her, the weirder it gets. He’s not wrapping his head
around it, this toddler, staying someplace she shouldn’t be staying, and he has
to wrench himself back from the crib. His eyes dart desperately, looking for
something familiar in the chaos, and they fix on the picture frames on Jared’s
desk. A couple of them are ones Jensen remembers; Jared and his mom back before
Jeff, Jared and him when they’d been dating, their arms around each other, but
several of them are new.
He crosses the room to look at them, not even caring that Jared might catch him
now, and spends a good couple of minutes staring at pictures of a baby, a
newborn in a pink cap, the same little girl at what looks to be her first
birthday party. They go on and on, pictures crammed and folded, Jensen pulls
one out at random, tugging to get it out from where it was wedged into the
corner of the frame. It’s actually two pictures, one on top of the other. The
first is of Genevieve standing next to a hospital bed, holding the baby that’s
the star of Jared’s desk, while Jared lies next to her, looking tired but
happy. The second is again of Jared and Genevieve, only in this one, Jared’s
obviously pregnant, cradling his belly with his palm as Genevieve has her arm
thrown around him.
Jensen sits heavily on the bed, and sort of stares for a second. This was not
something he’d been expecting, not by a long shot, and he can’t wrap his head
around it. He keeps looking over at the crib, waiting for the toddler to wake
up, but she’s quiet as ever, just making these even-keeled little breaths.
Jensen’s eyes keep skidding over everything in the room, and when he stands up
next, some ten minutes later, it’s to grab a garishly pink book from the shelf
over Jared’s desk. It’s obviously not literature, and even though he keeps
thinking he hears Jared on the landing, he sits back on the bed and flips it
open.
A baby book. If Jensen wasn’t so fucking blindsided, he’d almost be amused,
because only Jared is a big enough girl to keep one of these things. It’s
mostly pictures, a lock of hair (which, okay, kinda gross), but Jensen happens
upon a tiny little hospital bracelet and underneath, a little blurb written in
Jared’s handwriting.
Hannah Beth Padalecki, it says. DOB: May 13, 2011. Seven pounds, three ounces.
Nineteen inches.
Jensen’s breathing quickly now, and he starts counting backwards on his
fingers, once, twice, three times until he’s sure. Unless the baby was early or
late, Jared got pregnant sometime in the middle of August. Right when you left,
something says nastily in Jensen’s head, and he immediately feels like he is
going to be sick.
There are two options here. Either Jared was cheating on Jensen or had found
someone right after Jensen left, which would’ve been a challenge given that
Jensen’s pretty sure there aren’t any more gay guys in a thirty mile radius.
Or...or that baby’s his, and all of a sudden, Jensen remembers a conversation
they’d had back when Jared was fifteen. He and Jensen had been fooling around,
making fun of the name the Singers had chosen for their new baby.
“I think it’s sweet,” his mother had said. “And I’m glad they didn’t name him
after Bob’s father. Alfred is anawfulname.”
“So you wouldn’t want your grandkid named after you, would you?” Jared asked
coyly. “You always say you hate your name.”
“If you name your baby after me, Jensen Ackles,” she said sternly, “I will whup
you. I came outta my momma a fully grown fifty year old. Donna. What a
geriatric name.”
“I’m just gonna call her Cinderella,” Jensen said airily, obviously joking.
It’s lame, but it makes his mama smile.
“You should call her Hannah,” she said, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes
crinkling. “Or Beth. Those are good names.”
Jensen doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at that same page as his
world spins around him, but when Jared finally, finally comes into his room,
Jensen doesn’t hear him until something clatters to the floor.
“What the?” Jared asks obviously flabbergasted, and he sounds angry at first
until Jensen lifts his head and a flash of recognition flies over Jared’s face.
“Jensen,” he breathes, and he’s immediately pale, picking up the water glass he
dropped and closing the door behind him. Jensen can’t say anything yet, doesn’t
have the words, and Jared’s shaking, setting the empty glass on the desk as he
walks over to check on his daughter.
Our daughter, Jensen thinks, and he’s surprised he doesn’t immediately burst
into hysterical laughter.
“What are you doing here, Jensen?” Jared asks quietly, stroking his daughter’s
hair, his back to Jensen. “Genevieve told me you wanted me to stay away, and I
have. You weren’t supposed to come looking for me.” He sounds accusatory, and
something about the way he says it unsticks Jensen’s voice.
“Doesn’t look like I’m the only one who wanted to make sure we didn’t meet up,”
he says harshly. “Got a pretty big secret there, Jared.” He gestures towards
the desk, where the picture frames have obviously been moved, to where the
picture of Jared pregnant is lying in full-view.
Jared’s shoulders, if possible, get even tenser as he turns around to take in
what Jensen’s pointing towards, his eyes skipping over the desktop. “I didn’t
think you’d want to know.”
“No, of course not. It’s not that important, you know, having someone tell you
you have a kid.” Jensen’s voice is razor sharp, thick with anger, and he’s
shaking too now, digging his fingernails into his palm.
Jared turns around to face him fully then, and for a second, Jensen can see how
hurt he is before stone settles over his face. “You know?” he asks, stricken.
“I mean. That she’s.” The yours hangs heavy in the air.
“Hannah Beth,” Jensen clarifies tightly, holding up the book. “Birthday in May?
I’m not stupid, Jared.”
“No, I know,” Jared says, and he’s looking at the floor and not at Jensen. “I
had no clue I was pregnant when you left, Jen. I swear.”
“Don’t call me that,” Jensen snarls. “You don’t have a right to call me that.”
“I just--I found out after you were gone, and what was I supposed to do? You
were off in Boston with a real life and I was stuck here. What did you want me
to do, huh?”
“You should have aborted it,” Jensen says coldly. “Seeing how much you didn’t
love me in the end there.”
Jared recoils as if Jensen’s slapped him across the face. “I would never,” he
says, and now Jensen can tell he’s touched a nerve because Jared’s face is
going blotchily red. “She’s my daughter and probably the best thing that
happened to me, and don’t you ever fucking say something like that again. You
don’t know her.”
Jensen feels a twinge of regret but it’s not strong enough to warrant an
apology. “Whose fault is that, Jared? I seem to remember offering to stay
behind for you. And you sure as fuck didn’t pick up the phone after you found
out.”
“It was my problem,” Jared says stubbornly.
Jensen laughs, a short, ugly, unamused sound. “Yeah, fuck you, Jared. How many
times did you listen to me talk about my deadbeat dad and how he fucking left
my mom and how much I hated him for it? And now you’ve made me the same thing.”
“It’s not the same,” Jared says heatedly. “You didn’t know.”
“Well now that I’m in the fucking loop, what are you gonna do about it?” Jensen
sneers.
“Jensen, I don’t know what you want from me,” Jared cries. “You weren’t
supposed to be here.”
“I wasn’t supposed to find out, you mean,” Jensen corrects snidely.
“I didn’t want you to feel obligated.” Jared pauses, then continues, “And it’s
fine--you don’t have to have anything to do with her.”
“Fuck you, Jared,” Jensen says. “Just--fuck you. I can’t fucking believe you.”
“Stop swearing,” Jared says. “And be quiet. She’s gonna wake up and she’ll cry
and Jeff--”
“That’s right, Jeff,” Jensen sneers. “He’s obviously still here. You let him
beat your kid, Jay?”
Jared flinches again, hard. “He’s never--never--touched her,” Jared says, his
anger barely contained. “I wouldn’t let him. But it’s good to know you have
such a low opinion of me.”
“I’m sorry--I’m supposed to respect you? You had a kid in high school, didn’t
tell your ex about it, and you still live at home with your fucking abusive
step-dad and drunk mom. What part of that should make me want to be nice?”
“I’d forgotten how much of an asshole you are,” Jared says tightly. “And it
takes two to tango. I didn’t get myself pregnant.”
“You were the one who was supposed to be careful with birth control,” Jensen
explodes. “You didn’t fucking tell me. I’m fucking allowed to blame you for
this.”
“I did what I thought was right,” Jared says. “You don’t get to judge me for
that.”
“I hate you,” Jensen spits, and whoa, he’s not sure where that came from, but
it burns vitriolic in the air.
“Maybe you should leave,” Jared says, very quietly.
“Maybe you should fuck yourself,” Jensen says, and he can’t be here anymore. He
stands there for a second, his fists clenched so hard that he’s surprised he
isn’t bleeding, and then he breezes into action and is at the window in a split
second.
“I’m not done with this yet,” he says. “I can’t even fucking look at you right
now, but I want some goddamn answers.” He’s out in the tree before Jared can
respond.
**
Jensen doesn’t know how long he wanders, but it’s dark by the time he trudges
back up Danneel’s driveway. He feels like he’s been scraped clean, numb and
sick with anger, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’d gone to the graveyard for
the first time to see his mama’s grave, and it had flowers on it, as well as a
laminated picture that looked like it was scribbled by a two year old. Jensen
knows where it came from, and he’s so fucking confused and pissed and god, he
can’t even put it into words.
He bypasses the family room quickly, ignoring how Jim and Sam look at him,
because they obviously knew and didn’t tell him. He can hear Danneel and
Genevieve, arguing loudly, and even though half of him wants to go and sleep
for a decade and forget everything about this damn town, he needs to talk to
Genevieve.
When he bursts into the room, Danneel only has to look at him for a second
before she’s crossing the room, looking blind-sided and scared. She grabs a
hold of his biceps, bracketing him with her body. “I didn’t know,” she says. “I
swear to God, no one ever told me.” He can’t form words--just looks at Gen who
is staring at the floor, and he gently pries Danneel’s hands off of him.
“Where’s Chris?” he asks quietly.
“Guest room,” Danneel says. “When we heard--well, he wasn’t sure....”
“Jared called you?” he asked, directing the question at Genevieve and when she
meets his eyes, she’s stubbornly stoic.
“Right after you left,” she says.
“You were never gonna let me know, were you?” he says.
“No,” Genevieve confirms, and she doesn’t even sound ashamed. “It wasn’t my
place.”
“It fucking was if Jared was too much of a pussy to come out and tell him in
the first place!” Danneel explodes.
“No, you don’t get to say that,” Genevieve says, too loud. “You’ve been off in
Boston, which is fine, but as soon as you left, you were done with Jared. I had
to pick up the pieces. And you never tried to find out what happened to him or
why he did what he did, and if I’m the only one in his corner, I’m going to
fucking stay that way!”
“What he did?” Jensen says, and he’s incredulously furious now. “He broke up
with me. He lied to me all goddamn summer and then when he found out he was
having my baby, he didn’t even bother to mention it to me. He’s a fucking
asshole, and you are too.”
“Fuck you, Jensen,” Gen says. “He may have made a mistake but he had a reason
for it. He’s a fucking idiot, but so are you, and you do not get to say those
things to me when I’ve stayed behind here.”
“I think he’s perfectly in line,” Danneel says coolly.
“And fuck you too,” Gen cries. “You never even bothered. Jared was one of our
best friends for years and you cut him off without even trying to hear his side
of the story.”
“I don’t feel bad for him,” Danneel spits. “He made his bed. It’s not my fault
he has to lie in it.”
Genevieve’s eyes are blazing, and she looks about ten seconds away from flying
off the handle. “Get all the fucking facts before you make a judgment. And that
goes for you too, Jensen. You should actually fucking talk to him without being
a douchebag. And I’m done with this fucking conversation. Come find me when you
guys stop being so fucking elitist.”
She storms out of the room, and Danneel and Jensen stay in silence for a good
couple of minutes.
“Are you okay, honey?” Danneel asks softly, laying her hand on Jensen’s arm.
“No,” Jensen says slowly. “No, I’m not.”
**
It takes him days to get things straightened out in his head. To be honest, he
still doesn’t know anything more than the fact that he’s so angry it hurts.
Genevieve is hardly home anymore, Chris is avoiding him, and Danneel keeps
trying to talk, and it’s driving Jensen crazy. But the day before they’re due
to leave, he knows he has to talk to Jared. Catching Genevieve before she has
the time to disappear, he makes her call Jared to meet Jensen at the park.
“It’ll have to be at five. He has work this morning,” Genevieve says shortly,
hanging up the phone. “And you’re a child for making me call for you.”
“Whatever,” Jensen says quietly.
“And fucking listen to him this time,” she says. “Don’t let him lie to you.”
Something about the way she said those words sticks with Jensen all day. He’s
at the park two hours early, sitting on a rusty swing and kicking his feet as
he turns everything over in his head. He’s so out of it that he almost doesn’t
notice when Jared takes the swing next to his.
 
“You wanted to talk?” Jared says, and it’s so soft, the wind almost carries it
away.
All of the anger that Jensen’s been carrying around all week evaporates, and
all Jensen feels is tired. “What did I do?” he asks, and it wasn’t what he’d
planned on, but he needs to know.
Jared’s swing squeaks as he turns to look fully at Jensen. “What do you mean?”
he says, sounding genuinely confused.
“What did I do?” Jensen says, louder. “What was wrong with me? Why did you fall
out of love with me? What did I fucking do?”
Jared looks stricken from what Jensen can see of his face. “Jensen, you didn’t
do anything,” he says. “It was all me--I don’t know--”
“That’s bullshit,” Jensen spits, standing up abruptly and stepping around so
he’s looming over Jared. “I had to have done something. Something happened.
What was it? I need to know.”
“Jensen,” Jared says, upset, but he seems to be at a loss for words. He stands
up too, shuffling backwards, still hanging onto the swing’s chain.
“So what? Was I too arrogant? Mean? Condescending? What? Did I do something to
you? Did I not notice something? Jared, I’ve gone over that summer a million
times, and I can’t figure it out.”
“You’re so stupid,” Jared says, but his voice is choked. Jensen can see his
eyes are wet, and Jared rubs his face for a second.
“That’s why?” Jensen says. “I was stupid? What was so stupid that ruined us?”
“No,” Jared says. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Genevieve says I’m not supposed to let you lie to me,” Jensen says. “What did
she mean? Just tell me the truth! I’m leaving tomorrow anyways, and I think
it’s the least you can do after...after everything.”
“I--” Jared’s choking on his words.
“You what?” Jensen cries. “What, Jared? Just tell me.”
“I never fell out of love with you,” Jared explodes, and Jensen takes a step
back without noticing, his heart going a million miles a minute.
“What?” he says. “What are you talking about?”
Jared laughs, and Jensen never wants to hear that sad defeated noise again.
“You’re stupid,” Jared says again. “I loved you--but I couldn’t keep you here,
Jensen. And I--I couldn’t go with you. So that was the best way, you know?”
“I don’t get what you’re saying,” Jensen says desperately.
“Your mama wanted you to go to Harvard so bad,” Jared says, and he’s so close
to tears that Jensen almost aches. “And there was no way I could afford moving,
and you were talking about staying and going to community college, and I
couldn’t keep you here, Jensen. I couldn’t be the reason you ruined your life.
And I’m sorry--I didn’t want to hurt you--but it was the only way I could think
that would work.” He’s crying openly now, snotty and ugly, and he rubs at his
face with his free hand.
Jensen feels gutted, and everything he’s told himself for the past three years
falls away. He’s back to how he was, so fucking angry, upset, numb, everything
too much to handle. “No,” he says.
“It worked out though,” says Jared, taking a deep hitching breath. “Y-you have
a good life now. A new boyfriend and I’m sure you’re doing well in school, and
your dreams--they’re happening, you know? And that’s what I wanted--so.”
“You bastard,” Jensen says faintly. “You just--what? Decided you knew what was
best for me without talking it through? Made that decision without me?”
“I did what I had to do,” Jared says simply, miserably. “And it worked out--
don’t you see! I didn’t drag you down, and you’re happy now.”
“God, you don’t even know,” Jensen says, and he’s so furious all of a sudden,
kicking at the post of the swing-set hard enough that the entire frame shakes.
“You fucked me up so bad, and you don’t even know.”
“But not bad enough that you didn’t go get a life--a good one--out of this
town,” Jared says softly. “And you shouldn’t let whatever happened this week
change that.”
“What?” Jensen says bitterly, whirling around and stalking up to Jared until
he’s right in his face. “Like the fact that I’m a father and I didn’t know?
Like that, Jared?”
“I already told you,” Jared says steadily, no longer crying but still as
obviously upset as he’d been, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks wet. “You
don’t owe her anything. She’s fine--I take care of her. She’s my life. And if
you want to know her, you can; I’m not gonna keep her from you. Just...don’t
take her away. Don’t do that to me. You don’t owe me anything--but give me that
at least.”
For the briefest of seconds, Jensen entertains the idea of taking custody of
Hannah, bringing her back to school with him, but it’s gone as soon as it
enters his head. He can’t. There’s no way, not with everything that he is, that
he knows.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Jared continues. “I’m--I’m gonna stay
here, with her, and you can come see her when you want. Or don’t. It’s up to
you.”
“You’re giving me a choice now?” Jensen demands. “After the fact?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Jared asks stubbornly. “What do you want? An
apology? I can’t give that to you. I did what I thought was right, and it tore
me up, but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret you leaving, because you got so
much more out of life away from here.” There it is--the defiant Jared Jensen’s
always know, peeking out from the middle of this mess.
“I’m not going to be my father,” Jensen says. “She’s mine. I want to know her.”
“That’s fine,” Jared says. “She’s a lot like you, you know?”
“No, I don’t. Seeing as I’ve never met her,” he responds, with less rancor than
he thought he’d have.
“I know you’re leaving tomorrow,” Jared says. “But when you’re back here? Just
let me know.”
“I will,” Jensen says automatically.
“Well, I guess,” Jared trails off. “This is goodbye? For now? Unless there’s
something else?” He seems anxious to go, and Jensen feels like he’s just hiked
a million miles, torn up and sore. He has so many more things he wants to ask--
what it felt like for Jared to give them up, why he hadn’t said anything, why
he thought that Jensen was better off now, but in the end he shrugs his
shoulders.
“Goodbye then,” he says, and he doesn’t touch Jared, not even a handshake,
before he’s walking away.
**
They set out early the next morning, before the sun’s even properly risen.
Danneel keeps shooting glances at Jensen, but he’s not sharing what happened.
Chris is despondent, staring out the window, a thousand miles away, and Jensen
can’t bring himself to feel more than a smidgen of guilt that he doesn’t care
more. The drive is hellishly long, as it’d been the first time he’d left three
years ago, and all Jensen can do is think. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed
to do now.
When they roll up in front of Jensen’s dorm after driving through the night,
Jensen slips out of the car without a word. Chris is behind him, even though he
lives across town, helping Jensen pull things out of the bed of the truck, and
Jensen barely notices.
“I guess I’ll see you later, then,” Chris says dully.
“Sure, yeah,” Jensen responds, but he’s not quite sure what Chris had asked in
the first place.
“Call me tonight,” Danneel says, leaning out of the window.
“I will,” Jensen promises, but really, he won’t.
The next couple of weeks pass in a blur. The new semester starts, and Jensen
has a job as a resident hall director on top of his gig in a coffee shop on
campus, and he throws himself into it full-throttle. If he’s busy with work or
school, he can’t think about other things, and if he can’t think about that
stuff, he can’t hurt with it.
Chris keeps trying to come by, and even though he tries not to be, Jensen knows
he’s distant. Danneel keeps prying so she can figure out what he’s thinking,
but Jensen doesn’t want that either, and when, one night, Chris comes over
looking incredibly maudlin, Jensen knows what’s about to happen, and he doesn’t
really care.
“This isn’t working,” Chris says after five minutes of silence on Jensen’s
couch.
Jensen could say a million things to dispel that, things like I’m sorry--it’s
my fault--I’ll be better or I love you but he can’t. He knows they won’t sound
true, and it’s easier to just listen. After all, Chris is getting emotional
enough for both of them.
“I mean, it isn’t even about the fucking ex-love-of-your-life,” Chris says. “Or
the kid that you didn’t know about. It’s just--you didn’t tell me and I had to
figure it out second-hand. And now you won’t talk to me, you won’t see me? I
mean, what the fuck, Jensen?”
“It’s better this way,” Jensen says, mostly to himself, but unfortunately
aloud.
Chris whips his head around. “What did you say?” he asks.
“You’ve always liked me more than I liked you,” Jensen says, and he’s going for
the words he knows will make Chris leave and not come back. “I’ve tried, but I
can’t be that for you. I’m fucked up.”
“Fuck you, Jensen,” Chris says, his voice shaking with anger and a thread of
hurt.
“I shouldn’t have kept pretending,” Jensen says quietly.
“So that’s what it was to you?” Chris asks. “A joke? Something to pass the
time?”
“No,” Jensen defends. “It just. It never got to where it should’ve been. For
me.”
“Well thanks for sharing,” Chris spits, getting up. “If I had known this was
all a big joke I wouldn’t have stuck around.”
“It wasn’t,” Jensen says heavily. “I just--I’m sorry.”
“Save it,” Chris says shortly. “I guess I’ll see you around. If I’m not being
too pathetic about our obviously one-sided relationship.” He storms out and
slams the door; Chris always was dramatic.
Jensen doesn’t care. That night he dreams of Jared, laughing and happy, and of
an abstract little girl, and that’s what makes him feel like someone carved his
heart out with a knife the next morning. Not anything else.
**
“You were kind of a dick to Chris,” Danneel says conversationally a couple of
days later. She’s forced him to come over and he’s largely ignoring her as he
pores over one of his textbooks. “You could’ve let him down easy.”
“This way he hates me,” Jensen says dully. “He won’t think we can get back
together.”
Danneel sighs, heavy and deep in her chest, and sits down practically on top of
him. “Honey,” she says placatingly, placing a small hand on his forearm.
“You’re miserable. What are you doing?”
“Studying,” Jensen says shortly.
“No, you’re not. You’re deflecting. Running away.”
“I think I’m entitled to it!” Jensen explodes, slamming his book shut. “I mean,
if you haven’t noticed, things haven’t exactly been fucking rosy here in the
past month.”
“Well then stop moping and do something about it,” Danneel snaps. “You’re
acting like a kid.”
“What do you want me to do, huh? What’s your magic solution to this shitstorm?”
He’s being a dick, but he doesn’t even fucking care.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” she says hotly. “But you’ve gotta do something.”
“Great advice,” Jensen sneers.
“And stop fucking pushing me away,” she snarls. “In case you haven’t noticed,
I’m in your ring here. Always have been. So it would be nice if you stopped
treating me like the fucking enemy.”
Jensen wants to say something, he really does, but his last bit of rationality
is telling him he’ll just regret it. He’s angry at her for pushing, but
nothing’s her fault, so instead of snapping back, he turns back to his book in
an obvious snub.
“You know,” she says after a few minutes of awkward silence, “I don’t know why
you think shoving everyone away is going to help. That’s what Jared did to you,
and now you’re both miserable. So maybe you should use that big brain of yours
right for a change.”
He doesn’t respond to that either, so she stands up, wipes her hands on her
jeans as though touching him has sullied her somehow, and shuts herself in her
room even though Jensen’s the one visiting her apartment. She doesn’t come out
all night, and eventually Jensen just leaves.
**
Jensen can’t remember the last time he’s had so much space to himself. Danneel
seems to be avoiding him, and he’s not making the first move there; not yet, at
least. And sure, he’s always been busy, ever since he moved out to Boston, but
the emptiness is new.
He’s not letting himself fall to pieces, is still keeping up with his classes
and showing up to work, but he’s zoning out more than usual. It’s like back
when he and Jared had first broken up, only the pain is different, less acute.
He’ll snap back to attention in class and realize he’s absentmindedly spent the
past five minutes thinking about a little girl with freckles and blonde hair
and that there are dark pen marks scratched into his notes by his errant hand.
Or he’ll make someone’s coffee and, lost in the familiar movements, remember
how Jared would tease him about his caffeine addiction, all dimples and wonky
smile.
He’s remembering how he felt when it was just his mama and him and stories of a
deadbeat father who didn’t give a shit and how that had felt when kids had
asked why he only had one parent. And all those times he’d spent awake all
night with Jared, talking about the future and their plans, which always
involved them going off into the world together.
It sucks.
He doesn’t know what to do, and even though he’s exhausted, he’s not sleeping
well, startling awake at the slightest noise and then taking an hour to fall
back asleep again. One night, he just stays awake, too on edge, and when the
sun rises, he’s developed a sort of contingency plan, a what-if idea, that he’s
not sure he can go through with. He thinks it over, every possible way, lists
the cons in his head, but in the end, even though every part of his brain is
telling him it’s not something to follow up upon, all he has to do is close his
eyes before he begins the whole thought process over again. It’s what he sees
in his imagination, not the facts, that makes him pick up the phone.
Katie, a girl he knows through working as an RA when he was a sophomore and now
as a hall director, is someone he’s always gotten along well with. She doesn’t
take shit, and he likes that about her, so even though it’s uncomfortable, when
he runs things through with her, she demands answers, which makes her a good
sounding board.
“You’re one big bottle of fucked up,” she says once he’s spilled a stilted
version of the story; it’s the only way that she’ll go through the trouble to
do what he’s asked for.
“You’ll help, right?” Jensen asks warily, but he can already tell from her tone
of voice that she’s thinking about how late she’ll have to stay to start the
paperwork.
“You know the rules?” she asks suspiciously. “This could get me in trouble if
you decide to go rebel on me.”
“I know,” he says. “By the book, I promise. If it works out, that is.”
“Well logistically, it’s not an issue. December grads and all. I’ll put it
through. Butter up the management for you, but they love you anyway.”
“Thanks, Katie,” he says, and when he hangs up the phone, he has to spend
another hour trading shifts and talking to the RA’s in his building before he
knows he can really put this plan in motion.
Can I borrow your car? he texts Danneel that afternoon.
It takes almost forty-five minutes, and the reply is short when he flips his
phone open. Why?
Need to get out of the city for a couple days, he shoots back. Alone. Gotta
clear my head.
A couple of hours later, he’s following the highway out of Boston, the sky
darkening. He doesn’t have class till Monday evening, and that gives him three
and a half days. Genevieve’s response to the question he texted her that
morning sits saved in his inbox, and he turns up the radio, and drives.
***
Thirty miles out of town, he crashes in a cheap roadside motel. It’s late
Friday night, and he wants this to be just them--no Jeff, no Jared’s mama. And
since Genevieve said Jared doesn’t work on Saturdays and for as long as Jensen
can remember, Jeff and Jared’s mom have spent Saturday out, playing poker and
drinking, that’s when he’ll arrive.
Surprise of surprises, even though he’s been on the road for over twenty-four
hours, counting traffic and pit stops, he doesn’t sleep well. He wakes up, sore
and unrested, around seven, and it takes him three cups of coffee before he can
get up the nerve to call Jared’s house phone.
Jared doesn’t have a cell phone anymore, Genevieve had texted. Jeff smashed it
and he can’t afford a new one.
If he hadn’t triple-checked the number, he almost would think he called a
stranger. Jared doesn’t sound the same as he used to, the Jared that exists in
Jensen’s memory. Less...lively and just tired, and it takes two hellos before
Jensen can clear his throat enough to say hello back.
“Jensen?” Jared asks, and there’s this note of surprise in his voice, like he
never expected Jensen to talk to him again.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, and then, “I’m about thirty minutes from your house. Is it
okay if I come over?”
“Huh?” Jared asks.
“I’m--uh, I’m in Texas. I want to see you. Can I stop by?”
“Okay,” Jared responds slowly. “Okay--I guess? You’re in Texas?”
“Yes,” Jensen says stiffly. “I’m--I’m gonna hang up now. I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay,” Jared says again, an automatic response, and Jensen gently closes his
phone.
Jared opens the door almost as soon as Jensen knocks, looking rushed and half-
put-together. “What are you doing here?” he asks, but he steps aside to let
Jensen inside.
“You said I could come visit,” Jensen says dully. He’d forgotten how it felt to
be around Jared like this, a million different emotions lodging themselves in
his chest.
“I didn’t expect you to drive all the way from Boston in the middle of the
semester!” Jared says exasperatedly.
Jensen’s gonna say something, but his attention catches on the separation of
the front hall to the kitchen where he can see half of a head peeking around
the corner. It disappears almost as soon as Jensen’s eyes catch on hers, and
Jensen feels his breath stick in his throat. Jared turns around and follows his
gaze to the pink socked foot that’s barely sticking out.
“Hannah, c’mere,” Jared encourages cajolingly. “I want you to meet someone.”
His voice is honey-sweet, soft, and she comes further into sight at the sound
of it.
“C’mere, Hannah,” Jared says again, and then she’s scampering closer, skidding
to a halt half-behind Jared’s leg.
“She’s shy,” Jared explains. “Kinda like you were.”
“Oh,” Jensen says, very quietly, and then, “Jared, I don’t know what I’m doing
here.” He doesn’t mean in the geological sense; more like he’s suddenly a
father and he’s never known one well enough to know how to act.
Jared understands what he’s trying to say, because that’s how they’ve always
been--knowing what each other means without asking. It’s scary that even after
three years, Jensen can tell by the slight softening of Jared’s eyes that he
sees how shit-scared Jensen is.
“No rules on this one, Jensen,” Jared says. “But I think you’ll be okay.” He
gently pries Hannah’s hands off of his calf and then squats so he can look her
in the face. “Hannah, ‘member when we were talking about daddy’s friend? This
is your papa, Hann. You should say hello.”
Jensen’s in shock for a second, and Hannah is just looking up at him with big
green eyes. She just shakes her head and hides her face in her impossibly tiny
hands, looking through the cracks of her finges like Jensen is a particularly
scary movie. Jared looks over his shoulder apologetically at Jensen. “She’ll
warm up to you,” he says. “It’s just--she’s not good around new people. Not a
lot of strangers around here, you know.”
“I get the feeling,” Jensen mumbles, because as much as she’s scared to meet
him, he’s just as afraid of her. It’s so surreal, looking at this foreign girl
and knowing she’s part him.
“Go play,” Jared says, giving her a little push. “Maybe you can show papa Moose
later.” She bites her lip and pulls at her pigtail, but she’s been given a
reprieve and toddles back into the kitchen, unsure on her feet for a second.
Jared shifts so he can see her, plopped in the middle of a couple of toys on
the the tile, and he turns back to Jensen.
“You didn’t have to tell her that,” Jensen says roughly. “That I’m her...papa.
It’s not like I’ve been around for her.”
“You are her papa,” Jared responds evenly. “I knew you’d be back. Once you
figured out.”
“You put a lot of faith in me,” Jensen says with more bite than he meant.
“No, I just know you.”
“You knew me,” Jensen corrects, and Jared flinches.
“Okay,” he says steadily. “How long are you here for?”
“I have to leave tomorrow morning,” Jensen says.
“Not a lot of time,” Jared comments, but it’s not accusatory. “You might as
well come play with her, then. She’ll warm up to you faster if you get with her
on her level. She’s almost two--easy to win over.”
“I’m not here for you, Jared,” Jensen says suddenly. It’s something he has to
get out, but the words makes his chest ache.
“I know,” Jared says simply.
“I don’t know how I feel about you right now,” Jensen continues. “But--but
she’s mine. So I’m here. And I’ll try not to be an asshole, but Jesus, Jared. I
don’t fucking know how to handle you anymore.”
“Noted,” Jared says, looking down at the floor instead of at Jensen. “Now, are
you coming or not? I have to clean the kitchen or Jeff will have my hide.”
**
Jensen didn’t know what he was doing when he came over, and the whole day is
weird. Jared’s like this odd kind of supervisor while Jensen awkwardly tries to
play with Hannah, because if he tries to leave the room, she immediately
notices and gets up to toddle after him. Jensen’s never had anything to do with
kids before, and her constant quest for attention is odd and tiring. Jared
stays out of the way, mostly, as much as he can without leaving the room,
stepping in to translate Hannah’s outbursts if necessary, picking her up and
putting her in a high chair for lunch and so forth.
She goes down for a nap sometime early afternoon, leaving Jared and Jensen at a
loss. Jared keeps tidying up, almost compulsively, and Jensen’s tempted to
leave to another room in the house or go into town to see Sam, but he has to
actually have a conversation with Jared about what’s going to happen now, and
if he chickens out now, he doesn’t know if he’ll get the nerve to do it again.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks tersely after Jared’s done emptying
the dishwasher.
“Sure,” Jared says, but he looks like he’s dreading it. He slips into the
family room and sits on the couch at the furthest end from Jensen, looking at
him warily.
“I can’t come down here very often, if at all,” Jensen starts. “It’s a hell of
a drive, and I have school and work, and I can’t do it.”
“I figured,” Jared responds. “I was kinda surprised you did in the first
place.” He’s avoiding Jensen’s gaze as if it will make things easier.
“But I want to know her,” Jensen continues. “I can’t be my dad, Jared. I
won’t.”
Jared looks up earnestly. “I wouldn’t try to keep you from her.”
“You did before,” Jensen points out, not unfairly. “You didn’t even tell me
about her.”
“I didn’t want to ruin your life,” Jared says honestly, and something about
that hurts, that Jared thought that that little girl would ruin Jensen’s life
in any capacity. Jensen doesn’t know if Jared thinks he’s that shallow or self-
absorbed, but rationally Jensen knows that her existence is just as much
Jensen’s fault as it is Jared’s, and since Jensen had no clue about her till a
month ago, Jared’s taken care of her completely. Jared’s given himself up for
her, and Jensen wishes he could’ve had that opportunity too, that chance to
bond with her and watch her grow up and love her unconditionally from the start
instead of being thrown into it face-first like he is now. He’s mad and sorry,
and Jesus Christ, it’s hard to get everything under control.
“I don’t get you,” Jensen says. “Your logic sucks.”
Jared shrugs in this helpless way, and somehow, it’s time. Jensen’s got to
spill his batshit plan, get it out there now before he can’t voice it any
longer. “Come to Boston with me,” he demands, heavy and half-pleading.
Jared recoils sharply, like he was expecting anything but that. “Jensen, what
are you talking about?”
“You. And Hannah. Come to Boston,” Jensen replies, though that’s hardly a
clarification.
Jared huffs incredulously and is instantly shaking his head. “Jensen, I don’t
have the money for that. How am I supposed to support myself in an apartment
with Hannah and with you still in school? It’s--it’s not possible.”
“Family housing,” Jensen says, almost fiercely, like he needs to convince
himself of this idea instead of Jared. “I can get a transfer, you can move in
with me. Living costs are covered by my job--I’m a resident hall director, room
and board included. You’d just have to marry me and we’d be set.”
“Jensen,” Jared laughs, not a happy sound, “are you even listening to yourself?
Marry me? You can’t stand me right now. You can barely look at me. I don’t--
what do you want?”
“The way I see it,” Jensen explains evenly, “is that I have three options here.
One, forget about Hannah, forget about you, go back to my own life. And that’s
not really fucking working, as I’ve found out. Two, I drop out of school and
move back here.”
“You can’t,” Jared says instantly. “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.
You’re more than halfway done. I didn’t...you escaped this town, Jensen, and
you better not fucking come back.”
“Or three,” Jensen says loudly, “you come to Boston and we make this work as
best as we can. Yeah, Jared, I don’t fucking know what to do with you right
now. I can’t promise I’ll forgive you. Or that we’ll go back to what we were.
But I will take care of you. No more Jeff, no more hiding in your own house.”
“Jensen, this isn’t going to work!” Jared exclaims. “I can’t be your kept
girl.”
“Either you stay here,” Jensen responds harshly, “and rot away, under your
stepdad’s thumb for the rest of your life, or you take what I can give you and
come with me like you should’ve three years ago. It’s up to you, Jared, but
there’s not a lotta leeway here.”
“I can’t--Jensen, you can’t spring that on me and expect me to know what to
do,” Jared says, shaking his head stubbornly.
“I’ve never kept you from doing anything, Jared,” Jensen says quietly. “I’m not
going to shut you in a house in Boston and make you my housewife. Danneel’s
there, so it won’t just be me--”
“Danneel hates me now,” Jared says, bitter.
“But if you stay here,” Jensen continues, ignoring Jared’s interruption,
“you’re never going to get out. Just think about it.”
Jared shakes his head helplessly, looking equal parts flabbergasted and
conflicted, and Jensen hoists himself up off the couch.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” he announces to the floor. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Slipping outside, Jensen pulls his coat tight around him even though it barely
classifies as cool, and starts trudging along the dirt path wondering what the
hell he just got himself into.
**
The rest of the night is awkward to say the least, but Hannah’s warming up to
him little by little. No great strides yet, but she doesn’t immediately run to
Jared every five minutes, so it’s a start. That warm feeling Jensen got when he
first saw her that morning never really goes away, just burrows deeper into his
chest as he spends more time with her. He and Jared don’t really talk, and by
the time he leaves, eager to not have a confrontation with Jeff or Jared’s
mama, he’s unsure of how things are gonna go.
“Maybe I can call?” he asks quietly. “I know she’s not even two, but she can
say words at least? Listen to me through the telephone.”
“Of course you can,” Jared says. “And--Jensen? I’ll--I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” Jensen replies, and then he’s giving Hannah a tentative kiss on the
forehead, feeling equal parts stupid and comforted. The road home seems a lot
longer through the dark.
**
Jensen doesn’t tell Danneel where he went, just returns the keys and lets her
know that the truck’s gas tank is full, but by the way she looks at him, he
thinks she already knows. He apologizes to her, low and honest, because she’s
his best friend, has been for a long time, and she takes it in stride with a
hug and a punch on the shoulder.
“Stop acting like a dumbass,” she chides.
“I’m trying,” he admits, but that’s as far as he’ll go in telling her what he’s
done, because if it falls through, he wants to be alone in knowing about it.
The next couple of weeks are weird and slow; Boston’s covered in gray-brown
slush, cold and miserable, and Jensen gets through midterms by the grace of
coffee alone. He calls Jared once or twice, careful to plan it so he’ll be the
only one home, and doesn’t say more than two words to him, just spends a couple
of minutes listening to Hannah babble into the telephone. It’s a useless
exercise, but it makes him feel less likely to go insane with everything.
Then, a week before the end of February, everything happens in quick
succession. Katie calls and lets him know that, as long as he can provide the
housing committee with a valid marriage certificate, he’s got a place in
student family housing. Two days after that, Jared sends him a text, a simple
i’ve thought about it. okay. i’ll come. Genevieve sends him a less maudlin
text, detailing that they’ll be driving up a week from Wednesday, and he’d
better not be fucking around.
Only then does he tell Danneel, because he’s sick with nerves; doesn’t know if
he did the right thing. She tuts, makes him cookies because that’s what Sam
always does when Danneel doesn’t feel well, and tells him that he’s an idiot.
“I hope this works for you,” she says. “I’m tired of watching you fall apart.”
Honestly, he’s not sure it will, and he almost calls Jared about ten different
times to tell him to stay in Texas, but sooner rather than later, he’s made an
appointment with the civil court to get married that Friday (married, honestly,
what the fuck is he thinking), and his dorm room’s beginning to look like a
disaster zone.
Danneel meets Jensen that Wednesday in her ratty tennis shoes and oversized
coat. “Moving in the middle of winter is the worst fucking idea I’ve ever
heard,” she grumbles as they pile boxes and suitcases into the bed of her
truck.
“It’s March,” Jensen points out.
Danneel gives him a Look. “It’s Boston,” she says like he’s a moron.
Jensen doesn’t have much, but it still takes them two trips to get all of his
furniture into his new place. The housing department is letting him move in as
long as he can provide the proof that he’s married by the next Friday.
It’s nearly four by the time Genevieve and Jared roll into town in Jim’s rusted
Ford pick-up, and Jensen’s heart skips a beat when it appears on the bend of
the road. He’s loitering just outside the door, leaving Danneel to greet them.
It’s snowing, light fluffs from the sky, and Jensen’s a little surprised
Genevieve managed to get into the city in one piece.
Jensen stops being pathetic as soon as the truck lurches into park and goes to
stand next to Danneel. Gen’s the first one out, bounding around the truck,
shivering in her too-light jacket.
“Heater crapped out an hour ago,” she says, giving Danneel a quick, stilted hug
before wrapping one arm around Jensen’s neck. “You guys are crazy. It’s
freezing here.”
“I’d say you get used to it, but I’d be lying,” Danneel says dryly.
The door creaks, and Jared practically tumbles out. He’s not wearing a jacket--
just in his t-shirt even though it’s twenty degrees out, and Jensen knows why
as soon as he plucks Hannah out from her car seat in the back; she’s wrapped in
Jared’s coat. When he turns around, his shoulders are hunched, unsure, but
Jensen can still see the bright purple bruise that has blossomed high on
Jared’s cheek.
Hannah looks a Jensen, smiles gummily, and buries her face in Jared’s shoulder
coyly, and something skip-stutters in Jensen’s chest.
“Hi,” he says roughly, feeling Danneel and Gen’s eyes on him. “Let’s get inside
before you get hypothermia.”
Danneel tuts, shakes her head, and hugs Jared awkwardly around Hannah. “Been a
long time,” she says, and she sounds ashamed.
Jared smiles, low and secret. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, and together they
shuffle inside. Jared and Genevieve poke around--it’s not much of an apartment,
but it’ll do in a pinch, a largish bedroom with one queen bed, a family room, a
small kitchen and a smaller bathroom. Genevieve raises her eyebrow, but Jared
doesn’t say anything except for, “This is our new home, baby girl,” quietly to
Hannah, who’s chewing on her clenched fist in an absentminded way.
Because Genevieve drove the entire way, she’s allowed to keep Hannah company
while Jared, Jensen, and Danneel unload. It takes a while; just like Jensen,
Jared has his whole life in that truck, and it’s dark by the time they’re done.
Jared immediately sets to putting the crib together, with Danneel’s help, and
Jensen orders a pizza before flopping down next to Genevieve on his ratty
Target futon.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” she asks, quietly enough that Jared and
Danneel don’t hear. Hannah’s asleep with her head pillowed on Gen’s thigh, and
Jensen puts his hand on her back to feel the steady cadence of her breath.
“No idea,” he admits.
“Good to know,” she sighs.
**
Back before everything went down, Jensen knew for a fact that he’d marry Jared
one day. He’d had a plan to propose by Christmas in the first year of college,
with his grandpa’s old ring ready to be worn, but then everything went to hell.
The wedding that transpires that Friday is nothing what he imagined.
He and Jared have the marriage license, paid in full from Jensen’s savings, and
the judge is bored and complacent as he marries them. Jared’s pale, and Jensen
doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Genevieve and Danneel are their witnesses,
and Hannah claps when the judge finishes the rites and allows them their kiss.
It’s quick, perfunctory, but it still sends a shiver up Jensen’s spine and he
hates himself a little for that. His grandpa’s ring fits squarely on Jared’s
finger, and somehow, Jared’s managed to get a ring himself, though how he got
that past Jeff, Jensen will never know.
Danneel takes them out to eat after, and the whole evening is quiet, subdued.
Jared is careful to avoid Jensen’s touch, paying much too much attention to
Hannah, who is fascinated by the snow falling outside.
Their first night as a married couple is starkly different than it should be.
They’re sharing the bed, because Jensen told Jared he was being stupid if he
thought they’d trade off for the futon, but even so, they spend each night
hugging the very edge, keeping their cold feet to themselves. Jensen insists on
getting up with Hannah at least half of the time when she randomly wakes up in
the middle of the night, and even though she’s still shy, he can tell she’s
warming up to him.
**
Genevieve has to leave to go back home, and Jared’s practically in a state of
depression for the next week. He and Jensen barely spoke anyways, but at least
before, he’d been animated when someone came over. Danneel tries, but it’s
obvious it’s not working.
Jensen’s playing with Hannah on the floor one night, abandoning his homework
because she’d toddled up to him for the first time ever when he’d gotten home
and said, “Play?” and there’s no way he could ignore that. She has these duplo
blocks, obviously second hand, and a careworn doll that she keeps getting
distracted with, peppering Jensen’s face with pretend doll kisses. Jensen
doesn’t know what she’s imagining, but she seems happy enough, and she’s
actually comfortable around him tonight, and that’s big.
Jared kind of wanders out of the kitchen; it was his turn to clean up dinner,
and Jensen practically rolls his eyes, because Jared’s just slouching along
like he’s Eeyore or some shit.
“If you didn’t want to come here,” he says, keeping up a cheerful voice so
Hannah doesn’t catch on, “why did you?”
Jared doesn’t answer, just sits down across from Jensen and starts
absentmindedly playing with two blocks. “You’re good with her,” he says. “A
natural.”
“I still don’t know what I’m doing,” Jensen returns. “And don’t avoid the
question. I hate it when you do that.”
“I did want to come here,” Jared says stubbornly. “It’s just--I don’t know what
you want from me. It’s a new city, and I don’t have a purpose here.”
The words sort of eat at Jensen’s stomach. “Look,” he says, “I thought a lot
about asking you to come up here. And maybe it was a rash decision, but it’s
done now. We’re going to make the best of it.”
“That’s not a good start to a marriage, Jensen,” Jared laughs bitterly.
“It’s the best I can do,” Jensen says honestly. “And maybe we can work on being
friends again?” Jensen’s not entirely sure he can go through with it--the words
are like ash in his mouth--but the way Jared looks up hopefully makes him stick
with his resolve.
“I’d like that,” he says softly. “I don’t know if I told you, but I missed you.
A lot.”
Jensen’s about to say that Jared didn’t have the right to miss him. It was
Jared who did this, Jared who fucked everything up, but he’s so sick of feeling
like this. So instead, he swallows his pride, his anger. “The first year I was
here? Kept waking up thinking you’d be right there. And then I’d remember.”
Jared looks at Jensen for a long while, and then Hannah clumsily stands up and
puts her chubby hand on Jensen’s cheek. “No sad,” she says.
Jensen laughs in spite of himself and gets a smile in return. “That’s papa,”
Jared encourages. “Can you say papa?”
Hannah looks at him blankly. “Doll,” she says, and then plops back down and
starts using her doll as a battering ram to knock over teetering block towers.
“Amazing,” Jensen says drily. “I’m surprised she even learned to talk with you
teaching her.” For a second, he thinks Jared’s going to take offense, but he
just laughs again.
“I have my tricks,” he says, winking.
**
Hannah’s warmed to him, but she’s still clingy with Jared sometimes, hangs off
of him unless he gives her encouragement to see Jensen instead, and that hurts
a little. He’s such a stranger to his own kid that they don’t even know each
other, not really, not yet. She only ever says a few words at a time to him,
giving him wary looks sometimes, hiding her eyes behind her hands when he pays
her too much attention. When he spies on her and Jared, she’s much more
animated, louder, more demanding.
He doesn’t ask Jared about it, even though he wants to. It’s something he
thinks he needs to figure out himself, and if Jared could do it, so can he. He
tries to be patient with her, accessible, nurturing. It takes some time, but he
thinks she’s getting used to him, day by day, beginning to realize that he’s
going to stick around. She lets him read to her, spends more time playing with
him, explaining her games in disjointed, toddler sentences.
But, the biggest indication that she’s finally accepted him comes on a
miserable day at the end of March. Jensen comes home, from an awful shift full
of wet people rudely demanding coffee to Jared, who’s obviously in a terrible
mood himself. Hannah’s face is ruddy, and she keeps rubbing her eyes and
shooting Jared dirty looks.
“Finally,” Jared huffs, even though Jensen’s hardly late. For a second, Jensen
allows himself to be surprised, because this is the first time he thinks he’s
heard Jared speaking frustratedly at him in a long time.
“What’s got your underwear in a bunch?” he mutters, oddly defensive, and by the
way Jared’s brow furrows angrily, it was the wrong thing to say.
“You try staying home all day with a cranky toddler,” he shoots back,
unprecedented, and Jensen doesn’t like his tone.
“I”m sorry,” Jensen says, sweeping his arms grandly. “I was only trying to work
to earn enough money to feed us. Didn’t know sitting on your ass looking after
your kid would be so tiring!”
Jared flinches at that, but his face is still contorted, ugly in fury. “You’re
so full of yourself,” he hisses, and Jesus, Jensen doesn’t even know what he
did for this.
“Ses’me Street,” Hannah says, pulling at the hem of Jensen’s shirt and holding
out the remote. Jensen ignores her.
“And you’re spoiled,” Jensen retorts, even though that can’t be further from
the truth. Jared recoils even further and then sweeps to the kitchen, coming
back with his keys in hand, and his wallet.
“Fine,” he says, faux-calmly, nostrils flaring. “I’ll just take my pampered ass
down to the grocery store to spend all of your hard-earned money.” He’s out the
door before Jensen can say something further, kindle the fire into a full-blown
blaze. He’s still gaping at the door when Hannah pulls at his shirt again,
demanding in a louder voice, “Ses’me Street!” She whacks his shin with the
remote and a shock of pain shoots up his spine.
“Hannah!” he barks. “We do not hit people with the remote!” He immediately
feels stupid for saying it like that, but shit, that hurt.
She doesn’t do anything but crinkle her nose, and Jensen doesn’t think she’s
ever been this angry around him. “SES’ME STREET!” she shrieks, throwing the
remote down and stamping her little feet. The remote explodes, sending its
batteries shooting under the couch, and Jensen can only gape for a second
before he regains coherent thought.
“Hannah,” says Jensen sternly, still bewildered but firm, as he kneels down to
look at her in the eye, his knee making unfortunate contact with a sharp piece
of plastic. “Do not throw things. You know better.”
The words don’t do anything to pacify her; she only wails louder, and Jensen
gets to his feet, only to stoop down to pick her up. “Time out,” he tells her.
“No!” she screams. “No, no, no, nonono!”
“Yes,” he says, and he’s putting her on this little carpet square that Jared
has designated as her time-out spot. She keeps trying to get off, but Jensen
doesn’t let her, plunking her down again and again until she keeps put, wailing
herself into tiny whimpers.
“Are you ready to behave?” he asks her, arching an eyebrow. She’s sniffling and
scuffing her foot against the ground, but she’s definitely calmed down some.
“Yes,” she mumbles, her lower lip trembling.
“What do you say?” Jensen asks, feeling like he’s parroting Jared’s words, but
he really doesn’t have anything better.
“I sorry, poppa,” she apologizes, and it sounds sincere enough. She’s not old
enough to have fully mastered the art of lying.
“Go play,” he tells her, and she scampers out of time out to her doll. Jensen
collapses on the couch, watching her, thinking of his homework and ultimately
ignoring it. By the time Jared gets home with wet hair and two bags of bargain-
groceries, Hannah’s bathed and in bed, but that’s all Jensen had the energy
for. Jared looks mollified himself, and slightly abashed but defiant.
“Sorry for storming out,” Jared says lamely.
“Hannah had her first ever tantrum with me,” Jensen says, massaging away the
headache that’s settled behind his eyes. Somehow, this seems important.
Jared just looks at him, his expression slightly softer. “Really?” he asks.
“Got me in the leg with the remote because I wouldn’t let her watch TV,” Jensen
explains. “I’ll have a bruise for sure.”
Jared makes a little amused noise, smiling slightly.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jensen presses on. “I’m not stupid, am I?”
“You’re happy she wants to misbehave around you?” Jared asks incredulously, but
he continues before Jensen can say anything more. “But, yeah, Jensen, I think
so. She’s getting more comfortable around you. I can tell.”
For some reason, hearing that aloud makes something heavy bloom in Jensen’s
chest. “Good,” he says. “That’s good, I think.”
“Yeah it is,” Jared agrees. “Means she’s beginning to really understand you’re
her papa.” It’s sappy, but Jared says it baldly, without much emotion, and the
feeling in the pit of Jensen’s stomach warms even further.
“I’m sorry,” he says meekly, because he really is. “You aren’t spoiled. I
didn’t mean it.”
“Thanks,” Jared says softly. “I’m sorry too. It was just...a bad day.”
“I got that,” Jensen says dryly, but the air has been cleared between them, and
they spend the rest of the night in companionable silence.
**
Things between them are still weird, but they get better. Jared stops tiptoeing
around him when he’s home, and Jensen learns to tamp down his anger and hurt.
Even after three years, he still knows Jared, and there was a reason they were
best friends Before. They watch the same movies on Jensen’s tiny TV, laugh at
the same jokes, eat the same food. Before long, Jared manages to somehow get a
job in a daycare, and he no longer has to spend the entire day in the
apartment. Jensen will come home, sometimes too late to even see Hannah awake,
and Jared will tell him about the kids, or, on his days off, about the
children’s museum, or the zoo. Hannah’s become the common denominator, wormed
her way into Jensen’s heart as surely as he thought she would with every
“poppa” and “hi” and “kiss”.
Jensen’s studies are slacking a little, but he can’t bring himself to care.
Instead of studying one Saturday, he and Jared head out to the aquarium,
holding Hannah’s hand as she stares wide-eyed at the fish.
“You’re a lovely couple,” one prim woman says. “And what a beautiful girl.”
Jensen beats Jared to the punch, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his
neck. “Thanks,” he says, and Jared beams the entire way home.
That isn’t to say that they don’t have fights, because they do. Jared will be
tired, and Jensen will be stressed about something, and more often than not,
one of them spends the night after an argument on the futon, waking up unrested
and sore the next day, sniping. Jensen’s constantly worried that Jared will
decide it’s too much, up and leave, take Hannah back to Texas, and now that
Jensen knows her, loves her, thinking about her leaving is like a sharp stab to
his chest. But no matter how mad Jared gets, he never uses Hannah as a threat,
and slowly, Jensen begins to calm down.
Not to say that Hannah is easy, because she isn’t. For every two moments that
Jensen realizes he loves this little girl, this girl who’s supplanted herself
into his life like a very well-disguised alien, there’s one when he doesn’t
know how he’s doing it. There’s screaming and mess and diapers and one very
scary night when he and Jared have to take Hannah to the emergency room at
three in the morning because she’s hot with a high fever, and Jensen spends
five hours in sick worry, scared for his daughter and trying to calculate how
much the ER trip will cost him. He’s getting no sleep, money’s tighter than
ever between baby food and diapers, and any chance of having a second to
himself--forget it. Between Hannah, school, and work, he gets no time for
anything but sleep.
But he makes it work.
**
Every other week, Danneel takes Hannah for a couple hours when Jensen and Jared
are free. The first couple of times, Jared naps and Jensen does his homework,
but on the first gloriously warm day in May, Jared peers out of the window, and
says, “I think I’m gonna go to the park. Read a book or something.”
Jensen surprises himself when, a beat later, he says, “Can I come? Got a
textbook I gotta read before Monday.”
Jared blinks, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, before he shrugs a
little. “Sure.” Jensen can see how he bites his lips, and honestly Jensen’s a
little nervous too, but they mostly spend the afternoon sitting side by side on
a ratty blanket that Jared had the forethought to bring. Not talking, but it’s
a comfortable silence.
From then on out, they kind of gravitate toward each other on the little time
they have to themselves. It’s not where it was, not by a long shot, but they
can talk now, watch a movie in the same room. Jared will fiddle with his
wedding ring and Jensen will burn macaroni and cheese, and it may be
dysfunctional, but it’s their family.
“You should take him out,” Danneel says one evening, playing peek-a-boo with
Hannah. Jared’s out grocery shopping, trying to stretch their money as far as
it’ll go, and Jensen’s about five pages behind in a term paper, but even so, he
stops and stares at her.
“What?” he asks eloquently.
“Jared,” Danneel elaborates. “You should take him out.”
“Danneel, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a while,” Jensen scoffs,
turning back to his research.
“No it’s not,” Danneel says, chipper for Hannah’s sake. “You’re friends now,
right? And you’re married. And you’re an asshole when you’re not getting laid.”
“If Hannah repeats any of that, I’m telling Jared you taught it to her,” Jensen
says grimly.
“Just think about it, dickweed,” Danneel says.
And Jensen tries not to--he really does. He and Jared aren’t there yet. It’s
almost the end of the semester, and Jensen’s not taking summer class; just
accepted a job charting at the university hospital to get some experience. But
the idea worms itself into his head, just like his plan to get Jared to move to
Boston, and before he realizes it, he’s paying more attention to things he’d
been trying to ignore.
Like the way that Jared laughs now--not reserved like how he’d been when he’d
first moved in.
Or how he looks sidelong at Jensen when Hannah does something funny, fond and
amused, and Jensen’s stomach might clench.
And those mornings when Jensen wakes up to his alarm, Jared’s pillowed into his
side, and Jensen’s tangled his legs in Jared’s and his side is tingling with
the contact.
Things like that.
They’re not where they were, Jensen reminds himself, but then again, they might
never be. And Jared’s already inextricably entangled himself in Jensen’s life.
It’s high summer when Jensen comes home to Jared dancing with Hannah around the
family room with some scratchy old-time music blaring from the radio. She’s
laughing, practically shrieking, as Jared holds her in his arms and twirls her
around. He stops as soon as he catches sight of Jensen, who’s leaning against
the door frame in his scrubs catching the show and blushes a brilliant red.
“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” he accuses, setting Hannah down and
striding across the room to snap the radio off.
“They let me off early,” Jensen says. “Don’t stop on my account. A little more
practice and you can try out for Dancing with the Stars.”
“Shut up,” Jared mumbles, but he’s smiling, so Jensen knows he took the joke
for what it was.
It’s then, with the color high in Jared’s cheeks and Hannah toddle-dancing at
his feet, that Jensen can’t help himself. “Wanna see a movie?” he blurts,
wincing a little. “I mean, when Danneel takes Hannah on Sunday? Maybe...a
movie?”
Jared just kind of looks at him. “That sounds good, Jen,” he says. “I think the
dollar theater’s got some we haven’t seen yet.”
Jensen doesn’t quite know if Jared’s gotten the hint, but he’s not elaborating
now. “Sounds good,” he says easily, slipping into their bedroom to change.
**
They see something appropriately male, explosions and swearing, and a good
detraction from all of the kid-friendly shit Jensen’s been subjected to lately.
He and Jared share a tub of popcorn and their hands keep brushing, even though
both of them try to ignore it. It’s not very date-y, but they laugh the whole
way home, making fun of the bikini-clad sex symbol and the main lead’s funny-
ass accent.
They’re outside of Danneel’s apartment complex, and Jensen knows he wants to
try this--to know if things can work like that again. He takes a hold of
Jared’s shoulder, stopping him and making Jared do a three-point turn to face
him, still smiling over something they’d just been laughing at, and then Jensen
just--just kisses him, right there on the street with his heart beating too
loud in his chest.
He catches Jared’s lips on a gasp and any doubts he might have had instantly
flare into practical nonexistence for that one second. It feels as inexplicably
right as it always had, sparking in the base of Jensen’s spine and moving up.
It’s quick, with just the slightest bit of tongue to make it not chaste, and
when he pulls back, Jared looks like he was hit by a two-by-four.
“Jensen, what--?” he starts, looking dazed.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever go back to what we were,” Jensen says evenly. “But-
- I mean -- I’ve been thinking. Maybe we can try? If you want to? I can’t say
I’m still not hurt, because Jared, goddamn, what you fucking did to me--but.
But what the hell? I never was that smart around you, and I just. You.”
“Don’t do this for me,” Jared says after a second, practically pleading. “Don’t
do this because you think it’s the only way to keep me around. ‘Cause, Jensen,
I can’t. I never did fall out of love with you, you know. Bastard. Serves me
fucking right, huh?”
“Don’t know about that,” Jensen laughs, just a little. “And I’m not doing this
for emotional blackmail. Jesus. I want to. Me, because of me, because I don’t
know if I ever got over you either. But...slow? Maybe? If it stops working, if
it fucks things up, we can go back to what we are now. Friends.”
Jared weighs the words for a couple of moments. “I’d like that,” he says
finally.
“Good,” Jensen says decisively and then, “Let’s go get Hannah before Danneel
decides she never wants to babysit again.”
Jared smiles, his eyes crinkling. “Okay,” he agrees, and when they get to the
door, Hannah’s there, alerted by the buzzer and hugs them both around the
knees.
“No leave!” she demands stubbornly, like they’re going to go and have her stay
with Danneel again.
“Promise, sweetheart,” Jensen says, and that is that.
**
Things are weirder now, like they’re in an in between state that won’t
dissipate. They dance around each other during the day, brushing shoulders on
accident, sitting maybe a little closer on the couch. Jensen doesn’t know if
he’s ready for this yet, and Jared’s obviously afraid he’s going to stop
things, and it’s just...odd.
One evening over a dinner of spaghetti and canned Ragu, Jared meets his eyes
across the table. “Um,” he starts, biting his lip, “you don’t have to...y’know,
date me if it makes you that miserable. You could find someone else. I know
we’re married and all, but I’m not some jealous housewife. I knew what I was
getting into.”
Jensen levels a glare at him. “I’m already dating someone I like,” he grits
out, “although I’m not sure for how long. He’s kind of a dumbass.” There’s that
slow burn of anger that he has to tamp down, focusing on Hannah getting
spaghetti sauce absolutely everywhere.
Jared snorts, a little amused sound. “Could’ve fooled me,” he says, almost to
himself. “Never would have thought you were such a prude.” It’s obviously a
joke, but it sends a shiver down Jensen’s spine. Jared’s kinda right, even
though Jensen doesn’t care what he thinks. When they first started dating, it
took a week before they were necking in Jensen’s backyard. And when he’d first
started dating Chris, it was really more of a one-night-stand turned
relationship than anything else.
He just shrugs and says, “You’re the girl in this relationship, Padalecki.
Didn’t you get the memo? Pressuring your boyfriend for sex is a bad thing.”
“Shut up,” Jared laughs.
The bantering has always come easy to them, even back when Jensen would called
Jared a poop-head and Jared would counter with an eloquent penis-breath. And
somehow, the casual trade of insults and jokes makes things better. The more
times Jared makes off-hand comments about Jensen and his pretty lips and gay-
ass scarves, the easier Jensen finds it to breathe around Jared. The three year
separation is there, but it’s slowly being chipped away.
Genevieve comes up to Boston for Jared’s birthday, and they spend the evening
getting spectacularly drunk at Danneel’s apartment. Jared stays relatively
sober, just a little tipsy as he makes sure Hannah doesn’t wake up and brain
herself on something, but Jensen lets go. He doesn’t have work, he’s
comfortable, he’s practically happy, and there’s never been a better reason to
drink.
Jared guides them back home, Hannah pillowed on his shoulder and snoring
softly, little baby breaths that Jensen can distinguish even though he’s pretty
much gone. He practically falls down the steps, but Jared is amused, not angry.
“You lush,” he says, settling Jensen down on the couch as he goes to put Hannah
in her crib. Jensen watches him as he leaves, stares at his ass for an
inappropriately long time, and makes a decision that isn’t hampered by stupid
things like sobriety. When Jared comes back into the room to manhandle Jensen
into bed, he grabs the hand proffered but pulls Jared down onto the couch
instead of letting himself be dragged to his feet.
Jared squawks indignantly as he loses his balance and half-crashes into Jensen.
“What are you doing?” he complains, but it’s in good-humor. “You are such a
fucking annoying drunk.”
“I’m doing what I want,” Jensen says, enunciating carefully, and before Jared
can ruin it with his big, fat mouth, Jensen kisses him, wet and sloppy. He has
no finesse when he’s drunk, but he wants to make-out, goddammit, and it’s been
a long-ass fucking time.
Even as messy-headed as he is, Jensen doesn’t think Jared will be as into
Jensen’s idea as Jensen is, but Jared’s as unpredictable as always. He makes
this tiny little broken noise and uses both hands to pull Jensen closer,
shifting so he’s half-lying down as he does so. Jensen settles on top of him,
slotting into the divots and angles of Jared’s body like he always has, two
pieces of the same puzzle.
Why the fuck did I wait so long, Jensen thinks, fucking his tongue into Jared’s
mouth. Jared’s practically purring under him, not pulling away as he keeps a
desperate hold on the back of Jensen’s neck. Like Jensen’s going to get up and
decide this isn’t what he wants anymore.
What a fucking joke.
Jensen doesn’t know how long they lie like that, making out, going from
desperate to something softer, more familiar, lazier. It never devolves into
anything more, but Jensen knows that it could, if he pushed. His lips are
bruised and swollen when Jared finally breaks away gently, looking at him, his
eyes liquid in the low-light, and Jensen rests his head on Jared’s shoulder.
“Good?” he asks.
“Dumbass,” Jared chides softly, running a hand down Jensen’s back. It takes
them another twenty minutes before Jensen feels like moving, tumbling off the
couch to make his way to bed, Jared right behind him.
**
The next morning, Jared is somewhat distant, something that Jensen picks up on
even through his hangover. He mostly ignores it until he stops feeling like
death, thankful that Jared had the forethought to take Hannah to the park
instead of letting her bang on pots and pans all morning as punishment, but
once he’s hydrated and feeling better, the situation doesn’t sit right with
him.
“What’s up?” he asks, as he helps Jared clean up the dinner mess. Hannah is
watching television in the next room, raptly engrossed with Dora’s adventures,
and now seems like as good a time as any.
“What d’you mean?” Jared asks, but he’s avoiding Jensen’s gaze, which is a sure
sign that something’s wrong.
“Jared,” Jensen sighs, annoyed. “Don’t play dumb.”
Jared’s shoulders tense, and he’s quiet for a while, rhythmically wiping the
table even though it’s clean. Finally, he sort of collapses into a chair, takes
a deep breath, and says, “It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.”
“Mean what?” Jensen asks, because he’s honestly confused here.
“Last night,” clarifies Jared, “The kissing. I know you were drunk.”
“Oh my God, you are such an idiot,” Jensen says. “Such a girl.”
“That’s great that we’re bringing up our daughter in an environment where girl
is an insult,” Jared responds, but it lacks heat.
“Just because I was drunk doesn’t mean I didn’t know what I was doing,
dumbass,” Jensen says.
“People do stupid things they don’t mean when they’re wasted,” Jared points
out.
“If I was bothered by it, I’d let you know,” counters Jensen. “And I’m not, so
you can stop acting like I’m gonna kick you out.”
Jared’s smile is genuine when he looks up, but he still looks unsure. “Well--
okay. But if--”
“Don’t even finish that,” Jensen says. “We kissed, I liked it, you liked it, we
should do it again soon. End of story.”
Jared doesn’t respond to that, and Jensen eventually turns back to the book
he’s reading, something that was recommended to him at work. Ten minutes of
silence pass, broken only by Dora’s annoying narrative, and then Jared speaks
again.
“Did I ever tell you about when I was pregnant with her?” His voice is soft,
but something stutters in Jensen’s chest--this isn’t something they’ve ever
talked about, and suddenly he wants to know.
“No,” he says hoarsely, as though something’s gotten lodged in his throat.
Jared laughs, lowly and self-deprecatingly. “I was kind of stupid, you know?
Didn’t figure out what was wrong with me for a long time. I just kept thinking
of you, and Harvard, and how much I wanted to go to you and fix things, so I
just thought being sick was my punishment, you know? For being a dick.”
Jensen is silent, doesn’t want to interrupt with something that will close
Jared off, and he continues, stiltedly.
“When I found out, I wanted to tell you so bad, but I knew I couldn’t. I just
kept thinking of your mom asking me to make sure you stayed in school, and you
would’ve come back if you’d known. And after all that--I couldn’t.”
“You still should’ve,” Jensen murmurs, but it doesn’t have the usual edge. He’s
bitter, thinking of his mom, and how things could’ve been if she hadn’t talked
to Jared, hadn’t put the seed of his plan in his head. He wormed that story out
of Jared a while ago, and thinking about it still makes something burn hot and
terrible in Jensen’s chest. He loves his mama, misses her so much, but he can’t
help but hate her a little too for this.
“Gen helped me a lot,” Jared says, ignoring Jensen’s interjection. “She was
with me when I told my mama and Jeff, let me stay at her house till they calmed
down. It was bad at school, once the news hit, and especially when I started
getting big, but you know her.
“It was hard without you though. Even though I knew it was my fault, I kept
thinking about how things would be better if you were home. And when I went
into labor--Jesus, it was the longest day of my life. She was so worth it, but
I kept thinking about how you would’ve acted if you’d been there. I knew I was
gonna call her Hannah if she was a girl, and Jesus, she was so small, and I was
scared to death about what I was going to do with her. I couldn’t give her up;
she was the last bit I had of you, but those first couple of months, I thought
I was going to go insane, or accidentally kill her, and it was awful.”
Jensen swallows hard and grips the table. He wants to say something about how
he’d give anything to have been there for her, but he can’t form the words
without feeling accusatory.
“I’m sorry I took that from you,” Jared says quietly.
Jensen unsticks his throat enough to say, “I wish things could’ve been
different. But. But they weren’t, so we’re gonna have to live with it.” It’s
not an apology, but it’s not angry, not biting. It hangs in the air, and they
don’t speak again till they go to bed, and Jared looks so forlorn, that Jensen
kisses him goodnight, completely sober, leaning into him for a long moment that
turns into several minutes, gentle, and somehow, it feels appropriate.
**
One time, when they were seventeen, Jared dared him he couldn’t go three months
without coffee, and to prove a point, Jensen decided to show him he was wrong.
It was hell the first couple of days, caffeine withdrawal headaches and the
constant yawning, but once he got over that hill, he only vaguely missed it.
When the time had come due, Jensen had crowed in victory and taken his prize--
a week of whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it (and to be honest, mostly
he asked for blowjobs because he was seventeen).
He was sure that now he knew he could survive without it, when he went back to
drinking the stuff, he wouldn’t get as addicted. He was wrong. One cup a day
quickly turned into three, and after six weeks, he was just as bad as he had
been before the bet.
Kissing Jared is like coming back to coffee.
Even drunk, having Jared under him was like opening a door that had been locked
for years, and now that Jensen has had had a glimpse inside, it’s near
impossible to turn back. When they’re around each other, all Jensen wants to do
is touch, lean into Jared’s heat and make sure that he was real, still there.
“You’re being weird,” Jared says one afternoon, narrowing his eyes. “What’s
going on?”
“I am not being weird,” Jensen replies hotly, bending to pick up another duplo
block before he steps on it.
“Yes, you are,” Jared counters. “Totally clingy.”
“You’re imagining things,” Jensen says loftily, but that night before they go
to bed, Jensen’s quick, unplanned kiss turns into two turns into ten turns into
twenty minutes of it before they mutually drift apart, lying quite a bit closer
in bed than normal. When Jensen wakes up, he can’t swat at the alarm for almost
twenty seconds because Jared is cushioned firmly on his arm and it’s fallen
asleep. He has to shake it for nearly three minutes before the pins and needles
go away, but there’s this warm pit in the bottom of his stomach that stays
there until halfway through the morning when he has to deal with three rich
kids who’ve snuck alcohol into the dorms even though they’re underage.
**
If Jensen stops to think about it, things have been progressing pretty much in
the most fucked up order possible. He married Jared when he wasn’t sure he even
liked him anymore, and now, six months after the fact, they’ve finally moved on
to reconciling their relationship into something more than strained acceptance.
And it’s hard, especially with life getting in the way, and Hannah, but as the
new school year starts, Jensen notices how different things have gotten. He
doesn’t look at Hannah and Jared playing with a knot of anger in his chest
anymore, and she’s not a stranger. He knows she loves applesauce and hates
mashed up peas, that her favorite show is Winnie the Pooh, and that they’ve
read Paddington to her so many times she’s practically memorized it. He comes
home, and she shrieks, “POPPA” and runs to him, getting her sticky fingers
everywhere. He knows when she’s crying because she’s tired and can tell the
difference from the sobbing fits she turns to when she’s mad, and it’s...well,
it’s tiring as hell and draining and messy and gross but at the same time, he
loves her more than he thought he’d love anything in the world, and that makes
up for every time she’s puked on him or her diapers leaked or she’s spent the
night fussing when he has a test in the morning.
And Jared--well, Jared’s not the same guy Jensen left in Texas, but he’s still
so good at seamlessly knowing exactly what Jensen needs. Jensen didn’t think
he’d ever forgive Jared for making the decisions he had, keeping Hannah a
secret, but there are days when he doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t dwell
on what he’s missed, because Jared’s here now. He’s here, and they’ve missed
things, but they’re building back up to where they’d been once upon a time.
Just with a lot more baggage. Things are sliding into place, slowly, and it’s
not perfect; things never are, what with the stress and the no money, and the
sniping over stupid things when they’re too tired or over-worked, but. But it’s
them.
Time slides by more fluidly now that Jensen feels he hardly has any to himself.
September melts into October, and they’re dressing Hannah up as a bumblebee,
taking her around a nice neighborhood to get candy that they’ll all share, and
then November, with the bitter wind and the goodwill scarves and Thanksgiving
with Jared’s misshapen pumpkin pie and a rotisserie chicken because neither of
them want to bother with a turkey, even though Danneel pitches in to mash some
potatoes and heat up a green bean casserole. They laugh at Hannah, who somehow
manages to get half of her dinner on the ceiling, and then they hunker down and
watch football and then Home Alone on TNT, laughing at Marv and Kevin and
Harry.
Jared and Jensen agree that Christmas should be low-key this year, considering
that Jensen has to make his tuition payment, and there’s groceries and other
expenses baked into their small budget. Jared gets a free Christmas tree from
someone, and they make paper ornaments to decorate it with, threading string
through some of Hannah’s messy drawings to hang on the branches.
“Pretty!” Hannah says happily, fingering a snowflake that Jensen painstakingly
cut out of paper.
“You always were good with your hands,” Jared leers, and Jensen swats him.
“Not in front of the kid,” he grimaces, but it’s good.
They walk Hannah around the city to see the lights, wrap her up in a coat and
mittens and they ooh and aah at the large Christmas trees and holiday displays.
Hannah goes to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap and immediately freaks out--
Jensen buys the photo on principle even though it’s overpriced. They both spend
a lot of time scoping out goodwill and dollar stores, because even if she’ll be
more interested in the wrapping paper, Jensen wants to do this for her.
And, he thinks, he’s ready for that last step between him and Jared too.
They’ve been holding off on full on sex through some unspoken agreement. Jensen
wasn’t ready, and Jared didn’t push, and now it’s become this sort of thing.
When they aren’t too tired and actually have the luxury of a little stolen
privacy, they sometimes jerk each other off, and once, after Jared had a little
too much to drink one night, he’d given Jensen a spectacular, unexpected
blowjob that wasn’t mentioned in the morning, but now, now Jensen thinks it’s
time. He wants it. It’s been six months of pussy-footing around their
relationship, and he’s sick of ignoring the way that he’s pretty much fallen in
love with Jared again. The bastard.
He doesn’t want to make a thing of it--not like it’s not special, but he
doesn’t want to make it worthy of a corny lifetime movie either. This is Jared-
-the guy who’s watched Rudolph with Hannah eight times in the past week,
listened to her talk his ear off about the “abobidimal-snomman” that’s she’s
equal parts in love with and terrified of. He’s the one who calls Jensen a
dweeb and cooks macaroni and cheese for the sole fact that he loves it and
wears pink just because.
This is Jared. The same Jared he’s always been.
Finals have been over for a couple of days, and Jensen is just reveling the
sudden burst of time he doesn’t have to spend studying. It’s snowed, hard
enough that the plows haven’t had time to catch up and the cars haven’t made a
sloppy gray mess out of the streets, so they all bundle up, Hannah looking like
that kid from A Christmas Story, to go play in the snow. It’s cold but not
unbearably so, and the snow is that perfect packing kind. Jensen feels hella
stupid rolling a snowman for Hannah, but she’s delighted with it, shrieking
with laughter. At one point, Jared yells, “Hannah, get papa, get him!” after
giving her a handful of snow, and she chases Jensen with a childlike war-cry.
It’s a good day.
They come home and Jensen gets out the Swiss Miss, making sure it’s cooled down
enough before he gives some to Hannah in a sippy-cup. They watch Rudolph again
and Jared plugs the tree in so it’s the only glow of light as the sun goes
down.
“I never liked this movie, you know,” Jensen murmurs. Hannah is too engrossed
to care, waiting for the Abominable Snowman to make his appearance so she can
scream and demand they turn it off.
“You always took things too literally,” Jared replies, stroking a hand through
Hannah’s hair. “You were a stick in the mud even when we were little.”
“You’re such a hick,” Jensen counters. “Stick in the mud--who even says that
anymore?”
“I do,” Jared says, sticking his tongue out.
“You only like this movie ‘cause you were hot for Herbie,” Jensen says.
“A., that’s completely disgusting,” Jared points out, “and B., maybe you should
take some pointers from him. Pliers are a way to a man’s heart.”
“Shhhh,” Hannah fusses irritably. “I wanna hear! Too loud!”
Jared rolls his eyes at Jensen, “Sorry, baby,” he placates, cranking the volume
up a little, and Jensen lets his arm fall over Jared’s shoulders, Hannah
sandwiched between them.
By the time they’ve eaten, a DiGiorno pizza that Jared got on sale, and gotten
Hannah bathed and ready for bed, Jensen’s made up his mind. His heart is
racing, even though he knows he’s being stupid, and after they put Hannah into
her crib that’s getting too small, Jared has asked him five times why he’s so
fidgety.
“No reason,” Jensen lies after the last repitition.
“Whatever,” Jared says, raising an eyebrow.
Jared flips some mindless sitcom on the tv after he gets sick of doing a half-
assed job of cleaning up the kitchen, settling into Jensen’s side. For a couple
of minutes, Jensen continues to pretend to read, watching Jared out of the
corner of his eyes, seeing how Jared’s dimples appear when something funny
happens, the shake of his sides as he laughs quietly so as not to wake Hannah
up. Slowly, Jensen sets the book down, and when Jared looks up at the noise,
Jensen kisses him.
Jared’s immediately on-board with the plan, grabbing ahold of Jensen’s forearms
as though to anchor himself and kissing back, following Jensen’s lead. It’s a
slow burn, and Jensen is happy to stay like this for a while, in the low light
from the kitchen and the glow from the Christmas tree, kissing Jared till he’s
stupid with it, slow and heavy and turned on. Jared’s arching into his touch,
skimming his hands over every bare bit of skin he can find in retaliation.
Everything becomes mindless sensation after a while, as Jensen struggles to get
Jared’s shirt over his head. Jared’s brushing his mouth over every inch of skin
he can get at of Jensen’s, sucking little marks because he knows Jensen likes
it. Their hips have fitted together, and Jared’s thrusting up in little
movements, not enough to do anything, but it takes the edge off, the slight
friction of it.
After the second time they nearly fall off the couch, Jared breaks his mouth
away from Jensen’s and laughs breathlessly. “Maybe we should go to the bed
before someone gets a concussion,” he suggests, but there’s something serious
underlying his tone. Like he knows where Jensen wants this to go.
“Mm,” Jensen agrees, but it’s easier said than done. Jensen just doesn’t want
to let go and Jared won’t stop kissing him, even after Jensen untangles himself
from Jared’s body to stand up, pulling Jared along with him. They sort of
stumble-walk over to the bedroom, spending an eternity necking against the door
frame, until Jensen thinks he’ll burst from the steady thrum of want that’s
running all over his entire body.
They’re still half-clothed as they creep into the room, Jensen trying his
hardest to keep quiet, especially as Jared’s hands are all over him.
“If you wake her up, I’ll kill you,” Jensen hisses, but Jared just kisses him.
Hannah’s a heavy sleeper, especially at this time of night, and unless she has
a nightmare, they’re pretty safe. Plus Jared had found one of those folding
screens women used to change behind to partition Hannah’s side of the room from
there’s, so there’s that added promise of not scarring their kid with sex.
Jared distracts him by deftly unbuttoning Jensen’s jeans, and Jensen just
growls and pushes Jared backwards onto the bed. Jared’s pants are already
undone, and Jensen doesn’t know when that happened and doesn’t care--he just
wants them off. He nearly trips over the cuffs of his own jeans as he struggles
to pull Jared’s off by the leg, but after catching himself on the bed, he’s out
of his pants, and Jared’s in the same state.
After all this time, being with Jared like this is almost like being drunk.
Jensen doesn’t even pause to take his underwear off, just brackets Jared, who’s
looking at Jensen with these wide eyes. Jensen’s head is heavy with it, and he
can’t help it, has to kiss Jared’s swollen mouth, mindlessly rutting down. The
friction is maddening, and coupled with the way Jared is kissing him, Jensen
feels wound up tighter than a drum.
Jared makes this little noise that means he’s close, and it takes all of
Jensen’s willpower to pull away. “Wait,” he whispers, but he finds he doesn’t
know how to word this anymore. He rolls off, ignoring the little noise Jared
makes, and rummages under the bed for the condom and lube he stored there
earlier.
“Jensen, what?” Jared asks under his breath, sounding annoyed and turned on and
Jensen doesn’t even say anything, just plops the condom packet and the tube of
KY on Jared’s belly. He still can’t form the words for what he wants to say,
but Jared’s shocked expression is enough to tell Jensen that he gets it. He
grabs Jensen’s bicep hard, and pulls himself half up.
“Jensen,” he starts, pausing for a second, searching his face. “Are you sure?”
It’s a silly question, makes Jensen feel like he’s a fourteen year old virgin,
but Jared looks drop-dead serious.
Jensen just kisses him, doesn’t want to put it into words everything that’s
come back to him in the past twelve months, everything he’d tried to forget
about Jared in those three years apart. He cups Jared’s chin, the kiss
surprisingly soft, and when he breaks apart, all he says is, “Please,” like
it’s the answer to what Jared was asking.
Jared’s nodding before Jensen finishes talking, and if this didn’t feel so
important, Jensen would call him a slut. There’s no question about how this is
going to work out--even though they used to switch off back when this was
practically a daily occurrence, Jensen needs to be the one inside Jared
tonight. He doesn’t care if it’s selfish of him or presumptuous, but he wants
that reassurance. Jared cants his hips up as soon as Jensen’s hand touches his
thigh, allowing Jensen to pull his underwear off, and Jensen can’t stop the
punched gasp when he finally reveals the entirety of Jared’s body. It’s dark in
the room, but Jensen can see the glow of Jared against the bed, debauched and
here and Jensen’s.
Jensen slides one lubed finger into Jared, gently, slow, and Jared keens high
in his throat, stifling the noise at the last second by shoving his fist into
his mouth. Jensen’s thorough with the prep-work, just barely keeping himself
from humping the bed as Jared fucks himself down on Jensen’s fingers. Jensen
keeps kissing Jared’s stomach as he works, keeping grounded.
“Jensen, stop teasing,” Jared breathes, writhing, and that’s how Jensen knows
it’s time. He slides his fingers out of Jared, who groans with it, and then
kicks his boxers off and hastily puts the condom on. Slicking his cock with
lube perfunctorily so this isn’t over before it starts, Jensen lines up and
begins pushing in with little thrusts of his hips, inch by inch, inexorable.
They’re face to face, and Jensen has to kiss Jared to keep quiet. The gripping
heat of him is too much, too familiar, and Jensen’s losing his head over it.
There’s something heavy about how they’re moving together, not desperate like
Jensen thought this would be. Jared is kissing him sweetly, running his hands
up and down Jensen’s back as they rock together, and it’s intense in a way that
Jensen wasn’t expecting. Jared’s fingers clench in the skin of Jensen’s back,
and without thinking, Jensen snakes his hand between their bodies to start
fisting Jared’s cock. His orgasm comes as almost a surprise, punching out of
him, cresting for what feels like forever, and Jared’s not far behind, spurting
wetly between them, mewling into Jensen’s mouth.
Jensen keeps kissing Jared, even as he comes down from his high, not ready to
let that connection go. Even after he slips out, he only takes a couple of
seconds to dispose of the condom in the trashcan before he slides close to
Jared again. He knows he should probably find his sleep pants so Hannah doesn’t
surprise them in the morning, but he can’t bring himself to move away, and
eventually he slips off to sleep, Jared’s head pillowed on his husband’s
shoulder.
**
Things are different after that, but somehow, in between all of that time,
they've become them again. Jensen wakes up one morning and looks at Jared,
messy-headed and still asleep, and realizes that the anger he'd been harboring
has ebbed away, unnoticeable until it's gone. This is his Jared, always has
been, and yeah, they've been through shit, but they've come out on the other
side, still together.
It might have taken some time, but right then, at that moment, they're exactly
at the place Jensen always thought they'd be: together, living a life that they
made for themselves.
Which is exactly how it should be.
END
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