i can feel the weather in my bones (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} causeways) wrote,@ 2007-12-27 23:07:00 |
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| Entry tags: | fic, jared/jensen, rps |
FIC: Lingering in the Golden Gleam (3/3)
part one | part two | part three | notes & acknowledgments | master post
iii.
The next morning Jared finally really does feel better. It's a Saturday, so neither he nor Jensen has work. Jared almost wishes he did—the squirmy feeling in his stomach returns with a vengeance when Jensen blinks his eyes awake and looks at him that morning, and he wouldn't have to deal with that all day if he were at work; plus, Jared kind of likes all the hand-waving and the weather-talking—but it turns out that it's a completely beautiful day, in the low seventies and sunny, even, which is ridiculous for anywhere in January and especially for January in Vancouver, and there's no way in hell Jared can say no when Jensen tells him, "The kids want to go to the park. What do you think?"
They pack up the dog and the kids and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and head out. It's even more beautiful at the park than Katherine Wortham had made it sound on TV: brilliant winter sky but warm, and the park is full of joggers and teenagers lounging on blankets and elderly couples walking the paths and holding hands. Jensen spreads out the enormous wool blanket and sets Josh up with some blocks while Annie throws a ball for the dog. Maggie's completely down with this plan, sprinting after the ball and dropping it, drool-covered, at Annie's feet over and over; Annie gets bored with it after a while, though, and Jared takes over for her. The dog's got pretty much endless stores of energy but it's not like throwing a ball is really that strenuous—Jared could keep it up all day, and is kind of planning on it, when the wailing starts from behind him.
"Hey, Josh, come on, what's the matter?" Jensen's saying, but Josh is screaming like Jared's never heard him scream. In retrospect, Jared doesn't know that he's ever heard Josh cry for more than a couple minutes before he calmed back down and started smiling and giggling again, which Jared hadn't known to take for granted until now—but that's weird that Josh has always been so good for him, right? Most of Jared's friends don't have kids, but the ones who do have kids have little monsters, kids who scream at the slightest provocation—probably all came out of the womb screaming—and they're always yelling. Josh, though, has to be a couple years old at least, and Jared hasn't ever heard him throw a tantrum.
Jared turns to look, ball poised in the air and ready to throw again while Maggie tries to jump for it. Jensen's trying to show Josh toys and Josh just keeps wailing, won't shut up for anything until Jensen finally says, "Show me what you want, Josh, you have to show me."
Finally Josh blubbers, "Daddy!"
Jensen's face changes instantly, his eyes going huge. "Jared," he says. "Did you hear that? Josh just—"
"Daddy," Josh says insistently.
Annie says, "Josh just said a word, Papa!"
"Yeah, sweetie, I know, Josh just said his first word," Jensen says.
Jared lobs the ball away for Maggie to go fetch and kneels down on the blanket beside Josh and says, "Hey, buddy. Hey, Josh, come here," and Josh folds his face into Jared's chest and his sobs subside into hiccoughs. There's something small and fragile in Jared's chest and the only thing for it is to pat Josh's back and say, "Shh, it's okay, I'm here," rubbing little circles on his back and not letting go.
*
Hours later, Jensen's still giddy. "Josh said his first word!" he repeats for approximately the ninety-eighth time. "I just. His first word."
"And it doesn't bother you at all that his first word was 'Daddy' and not 'Papa'?" Jared asks, just to see if it'll rile him up.
"He just said that because you were too busy playing with the dog to pay attention to him," Jensen says serenely. "I'm sure 'Papa' will be next. But seriously, his first word!"
"Okay, buddy, am I going to need to get out the sedatives?"
"I'm sensing that you're not quite as excited as I am," Jensen says, "and it's kind of weirding me out. He said your name. You'd be more excited than this if he'd said 'diapey' or 'pacifier'."
"'Pacifier' would have been a really difficult first word," Jared muses. "Think of how cool that would've been!"
"I'm just saying. He said your name! You should be through the roof right now."
"I'm totally through the roof," Jared argues. Jensen doesn't seem particularly convinced, though, and there's about to be a moment of awkward, fumbling silence when Jared gets an idea. "Hey, have we got any booze? We should celebrate or something."
"We drank the last of the beer yesterday," Jensen says, frowning, "but I think there's still some tequila above the fridge."
"Awesome," Jared says. For his purposes—which is to say, getting Jensen drunk to the point that he passes out and stops talking about Josh's first word—tequila is perfect. Jared grabs the saltshaker and the tequila and Jensen procures a lime out of the produce drawer.
So the getting-Jensen-drunk part of the plan? That goes great. Jensen's sprawled all over the couch like sitting upright is too much effort, and Jared knows the feeling, because they've been going shot for shot and Jensen's not exactly a lightweight. The getting-Jensen-to-shut-up part of the plan, though? Jared's kind of an idiot for not having remembered, but alcohol doesn't shut Jensen up—it only makes him talk more, and not just about Josh's first word, although that does feature heavily for the first three shots. After that he gets going on a rant about high school drama and the administration, which consists, as far as Jared can tell, entirely of idiots. Somehow this segues into how Harrison Ford really should have retired after K19: The Widowmaker, even though it was a piece of shit movie to end on, because now he's over seventy and still trying to star in action movies, which, no.
"I'm glad we got out when we did," Jensen says.
"So we didn't subject the world to our sagging seventy-year-old bellies?" Jared says.
"Nah," Jensen says lazily. "I don't know what you're talking about. My belly isn't ever going to sag."
"You're such a fucking liar," Jared says, grabbing for Jensen's love handles. He digs his fingers in and yeah, Jensen's just as ticklish on his sides as Jared remembers him being, except there's a little more of him now: soft flesh at his sides to push his fingers against and squeeze. Jensen cries uncle about two seconds in but Jared keeps tickling him until he's curled up in a tight protective ball with Jared diving in, pressing his advantage, so he somehow ends up sprawled over Jensen, who's laughing and grinning and saying, "Stop, God, stop!" but not like he really means it. And then Jared looks down and realizes Jensen's face is about four inches away from his and Jensen's got a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," Jensen says, and kisses him. It's good with the tequila—really good, actually: the warmth from the tequila is spreading all the way through his body, and Jensen's mouth is hot and wet under his. And then Jensen says, "I want to fuck you," against Jared's lips.
Jared freezes instantly and Jensen pushes Jared off him and sits up. "What the hell, Jared?"
"Jensen, I—" Jared begins, but Jensen cuts him off immediately.
"I don't get you!" he says. "You didn't want to have sex last night, okay, you weren't feeling all the way better yet, that's fine. But all last week you kept finding ways to get out of it or trying to distract me and it's just—I don't know what I'm supposed to think. You want to hear something crazy? For a while there, I actually thought you were cheating on me."
Jared thinks of Katherine Wortham, and the idea of sex with her makes him feel like he might actually throw up. It doesn't make a damned bit of sense—she's hot as hell, he should want to do her in an instant—but he thinks of what Jensen's face would look like if he found out Jared had done that, the way it would crumple in unhappiness, and he says, "No, God, no, I'm not—I wouldn't—I mean, I wouldn't ever—"
"I know you wouldn't," Jensen says, his face softening a little as he shifts closer to Jared again. "But it's just—I don't know what's happening with you, and I don't get it, and you have to let me know what's going on, Jared, because—"
Jared looks at him and finally, finally he gets it. "Oh my God," he says wonderingly. "I've been in love with you all this time."
"Of course you have, you asshole," Jensen says, lunging across the couch and kissing him brutally. Jared kisses him back, gasping for air against Jensen's mouth. He's not entirely sure he'd be able to breathe even if they weren't kissing, because he's in love with Jensen, and when Jensen pulls back a little and says, "Are we good now?" the only thing Jared can say is, "Yeah, we're good," and let Jensen pull his jeans and his boxers off and then struggle his way out of his shirt. Jared's naked. He feels too vulnerable for a moment, but then Jensen's got his clothes off too and it's good again. Jensen rocks forward against him and catches Jared's lower lip between his teeth, just the slightest bit of a pull and then he releases it again.
"Let me fuck you," Jensen says.
Jared's still scared as shit of this, but there's a thread of something else cutting through the nervousness, something Jared finally knows is want. "Okay," he says.
Somehow he doesn't have to tell Jensen to take it slow. Jensen produces a condom and lube from his jeans pocket—Jared raises an eyebrow and says, "Were you planning on having sex in front of the kids?" and Jensen replies, "Oh God, never say that again, that's disgusting," and Jared just cackles—but he stops cackling when Jensen bends him over the back of the couch and presses a slick finger into him. It's a little weird but not entirely bad, and it gets better when Jensen gets his other hand slick with lube and grips Jared's dick, pulling a couple times and saying, "Hey, I've got you." Jared feels too full when Jensen pulls his forefinger out and slides another finger in along with it, but then Jensen curls his fingers in a way that makes Jared's legs shake and his head explode.
"That's your prostate," Jensen says, laughing. "I'm pretty sure you've met before. Like, from time to time."
"Less talking, more finger-fucking," Jared pants, spreading his legs wider and bracing hard against the couch.
"Fuckin' pushy." Jared can hear the grin in his voice as he works a third finger in. Jared doesn't even try to resist, because Jensen's stroking his prostate with purpose now, and God, this is better than pretty much any awesome thing ever, maybe even better than blowjobs. Definitely better than blowjobs when Jensen starts timing it so he jerks Jared's dick and hits his prostate at the same time—Jared isn't even sure he's going to be alive to make the comparison with blowjobs after Jensen's done with him. It's like he knows exactly what to do to make Jared crazy and somehow it makes it through Jared's brain that they've been together for ten years in this world, ten fucking years—Jensen's got to know everything there is to know about him, and that's got to make sex completely awesome, and Jared is in love with him. Jared is honest-to-God in love with Jensen Ackles, and Jensen's fingers are up his ass, and Jared wants all of it, wants Jensen to fuck him hard over the couch. It's by far the gayest thought he's ever had, and he doesn't even care.
"Come on," he pants, "fucking do it already," and Jensen presses his teeth to Jared's shoulder in a bite that turns into a kiss and says, "Okay," slides his fingers out and edges his dick in.
It's supposed to hurt, Jared thinks, but mostly what he feels is pressure: his muscles giving as he takes Jensen's dick. Jensen pushes in slowly until his balls hit against Jared's ass and then he starts to move, shallow rocking then fucking into Jared in earnest, pulling his dick out and slamming it back in, and Jared's pretty sure he's saying something but he doesn't have any idea what it is, long strings of sounds that can't possibly be words. Jared's palms are sweaty, sliding against the leather of the couch. Somehow he gets enough command over his muscles to start fucking back into Jensen, make him pant and curse. Jensen's got one hand bracing on the couch, the other hand on Jared's stomach, pulling him in closer. When Jensen shifts that hand lower to touch Jared's balls he's done for: Jared shoots all over the back of the couch, come brilliant against the dark leather.
Jared's pretty sure he's supposed to feel embarrassed about how quickly he just came, but then he clenches his ass around Jensen's dick and Jensen says, "Fuck," and comes too, so he doesn't worry about it too much. Jensen leans against his back for a while afterwards, panting.
"I think I'm just going to go to sleep here," he says. "You don't mind, do you?"
Jared bends all the way over the couch so that the blood rushes to his head and Jensen's dick pulls part of the way out. "Do you think I can flip you all the way over my back?" he says.
"Probably," Jensen says. "I don't even care. Go for it."
Jared slides out from under him, his ass tingeing a little as Jensen's dick slides all the way out. It's a good hurt, though, because Jensen just fucked him and he liked it, completely fucking loved it, and he loves Jensen—his brain still can't quite get past that point. He's in love with Jensen, who's leaning on one arm against the back of the couch like he might fall over if he lets go and smiling sleepily at him.
"You tired or something?" Jared says. He can't seem to stop grinning.
"Mmm," Jensen says, tucking against Jared's chest. "Bedtime."
"You want me to carry you into the bedroom?" Jared asks.
"Mmm," Jensen replies. "Sounds good." He pulls the condom off and hands it to Jared.
"Ugh, seriously?" Jared says, holding it away from him.
"Tired," Jensen explains.
Jared sighs heavily, but ties the condom off and tosses it in the trashcan, then catches Jensen around the waist and gets Jensen's arm over his shoulders for support. "You realize that will totally make you the wife in this relationship. Like, forever."
"Says the guy who just took it up the ass," Jensen says.
"I'm not taking it up the ass again for weeks," Jared says gleefully, steering Jensen down the hall and into the bedroom. "You're the wife. That's all you."
"Whatever you say." Jensen curls blissfully up into a ball against the pillows. Jared works the comforter out from under him and spoons against his back. Jensen burrows against him and tangles his fingers with Jared's, then sighs sleepily.
Out of the blue Jensen mumbles, "It's not because of the getting-old thing."
Jared's halfway asleep already, so it takes him a moment even to work out what Jensen said. "What isn't because of the getting-old thing?"
"That's not why I'm glad we got out of L.A.," Jensen says. "It's because this is better."
He doesn't even have to say what he means. Jared squeezes Jensen's hand and shifts even closer against him. "Yeah," he whispers into Jensen's neck. "I know it is."
*
In the morning it occurs to Jared that they had sex in the family room, and the kids could have walked in at any moment, and also that they forgot to clean Jared's come off the couch.
"Dude, relax," Jensen says, grabbing his arm. "The kids sleep like the dead, and you know Windex will get the dried come off."
Jared stares at him. "Seriously?"
"That's like the ninety-eighth time you've shot on that couch," Jensen says. "It'll be fine."
"Huh," Jared says.
It's not until Jensen goes in the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth that Jared realizes Jensen fucked him up the ass last night and he isn't freaking out about it. He isn't even close to freaking out about it. He's sore in places he didn't even know existed until last night, and the only thing he's freaked out about is the fact that the kids might have walked in on them.
He goes into the bathroom. "Hey, Jensen?"
Jensen looks up from wiping his face on a hand towel. "Yeah?"
"I love you," Jared says experimentally.
"God, you're such a sap," Jensen says, not even trying to hide his grin: it makes his laugh lines even more pronounced than ever, and Jared can't help but step forward and kiss him good morning. "Ugh, morning breath," Jensen protests, but he doesn't move away.
Jared's grinning for the rest of the day, and after that it only gets better. Jared can see waves of tension lifting from Jensen's shoulders every time they fuck, which is pretty much all the time. It's awesome. Jensen's right: the kids really do sleep through everything, including that time Jensen deep-throats him and he comes so hard he actually screams.
The first time Jared fucks Jensen, it's amazing. Jensen's back is arching under him and the pudge on his sides is perfect to dig his fingers into and squeeze while Jared fucks into him. The whole thing is almost as perfect as the feeling of Jensen's dick in his ass and Jared nearly falls off the bed thinking it, because Chad was right: he really is the bottom.
"You say that like you're so surprised," Jensen says sleepily.
"I hate you," Jared tells him. "Like, a lot." But Jensen's already snoring at his side.
Jared likes work better by the day too; that's the crazy thing. While filming one morning he's in the middle of talking about a warm front moving through, and he says, "There's also a distinct chance of CLOUDZILLA ATTACK," and roars, and no one really bats an eye.
"I'm just glad we're not filming live right now," Sally the producer says, with a long-suffering sigh.
Chad and Sophia come over for dinner one night. Sophia helps Jensen cook while Jared and Chad play with the kids. "So how's your wife?" Chad says.
"How's yours?" Jared shoots right back, concentrating very hard on not thinking about how Chad was right about the sex.
Chad sighs, placing one building block on top of another, while Josh promptly knocks them down. "She thinks we should have kids."
"Yeah?" Jared finishes sharpening Annie's colored pencils and hands them back to her. "What do you think?"
"I don't know," Chad says. "I mean, we're still pretty young."
"Yeah, but I think you'd be pretty good with kids," Jared says.
Josh knocks over an extra-high tower of blocks while Chad's distracted. "Really?"
"Yeah," Jared says, kind of astonished to realize it's true.
Jared proves his chocolate milk-making skills to Annie ("Daddy's is still better," she tells him, but he's pretty sure she's got her doubts) and Josh learns three new words ('want,' 'no' and finally 'Papa,' and the look on Jensen's face the first time Josh says it makes Jared fall in love with him all over again), and finally Jared wakes up one morning in the middle of January to see Vancouver covered in snow, the trees and the ground crystalline white. It's a Saturday, and Jensen's still snoring softly, so Jared slides out of bed, careful not to wake him. He gets the kids suited up for snow, making sure they know to stay quiet.
The kids are gawking in the front yard, and Jared wonders if they've ever seen snow before. Probably not as much as this, anyway, not in Vancouver—they've got a good six inches to work with here. Jared teaches them how to make snowballs and lob them at each other. The snow's just right for snowballs and even better for snow forts, and Maggie's running around like a wild thing in the snow, barking and trying to hump the kids' legs because apparently snow makes her think she's a boy. Jared spends a while disentangling her from Josh's back, and then Annie makes a snow angel and Jared helps Josh make his own—it looks a little more like a snow crater than a snow angel by the time they're done, but nobody's going to tell Josh that. Somebody starts a game of tag, which somehow ends with them all in a tiny dog pile with Maggie trying to hump whoever's leg is nearest, which is Jared's.
Jared's doing his best to ignore the dog while attempting to stuff snow down Annie's jacket, and Annie is screeching and giggling. Jared is flat on his back on the ground, holding her up in the air, and finally she looks at him with wonder and whispers, "I knew you'd come back."
"Annie," Jared says, pulling her tight against his chest and swallowing down the lump in his throat.
When she finally releases him and Jared pulls Josh up and pulls the dog off his leg, Jensen's standing on the porch in his bathrobe, hair mussed and with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. "There'd better be more where that came from, is all I'm saying," Jared tells him.
Jensen grins and points inside the house. "If you give me another fifteen minutes," he says, "there will also be pancakes."
"Pancakes?" Annie yells, and they're all in the house again, depositing dripping mittens and boots by the door.
The lump doesn't really leave Jared's throat, though, not even during breakfast or afterwards. He's doing his best not to think about it, but even as they're watching cartoons in the family room with the fire actually lit, even as they're back outside having a snowball fight (Jared and Josh totally win, regardless of what Jensen and Annie claim) and making hot chocolate afterwards, Jared can't quite forget what he knows: it's over. Whatever this is, this glimpse of a perfect life is over.
That night as they're getting ready for bed, Jared looks at Jensen from the chair across the room and says, "Hey, listen. I'm going to say something kind of weird, but I need you to hear me out, okay?"
"You're not going to say you decided you actually like chicks after all and you want me to get gender reassignment surgery, are you?" Jensen says warily.
"No. Although actually . . . " He cuts off, laughing, at Jensen's murderous look. "Nothing like that, it's just—I want you to remember me, okay? Exactly as I am, no matter what happens tomorrow or whenever."
Jensen raises an eyebrow. "So you're running out on me with another man?"
"I wouldn't," Jared says. "You know I wouldn't."
"Yeah, I know." Jensen smiles at him. "Jared, what's this about?"
"Just promise me you'll remember me," Jared says earnestly. "You have to."
"Okay, you weirdo, I promise. Now come to bed."
For the first time in weeks, Jared doesn't want to do it. He doesn't want this to be over. He can't think of any reason to tell Jensen no, though, and he doesn't want to be any weirder than he already has been. He takes off his clothes and curls around Jensen, arm wrapped around his chest, and tries to stay awake for as long as he can.
*
When he wakes up, Jared's naked and sticky with oil. Someone's pressed up against him and the room reeks of cloying perfume. He opens an eye carefully and realizes he was wrong. It's not one someone in bed with him, it's two, one on either side of him: a pair of blonde strippers he vaguely remembers from that club with Chad on New Year's, so long ago it feels like another lifetime. It was another lifetime. Carefully Jared tries to free himself from the middle of the bed, but he doesn't manage to get out without waking up the strippers.
"Hey," says the one on the left. Jared has no earthly idea what time it is. "That was amazing last night. You want to go another round?"
"Yeah, definitely," says the one on the right, rubbing Jared's nipple idly. "I think that would be fantastic."
Maybe at some other point in his life this would have seemed like a good idea. Spending the day in bed with two hot blondes? Yeah, that should sound like a great idea. Now, though, he doesn't even have to think about it to know that's exactly not what's going to happen. "Um, sorry, I have things to do today," Jared says quickly. "Meetings, things, you know. I really don't think I'm going to be able to stick around for that."
"What do you mean?" says the one stroking his chest, putting on a pouty face. She's got brilliant red lipstick smudged all over her mouth. Instead of looking sexy, it reminds Jared of Annie just after she ate a cherry popsicle, and his chest pangs so hard it actually hurts.
"I mean, you're going to have to leave," he says. "Like, right now." He's being an asshole, it's obvious from the women's faces, and he doesn't even care. He doesn't even wait for them to clear the bed before he's digging for his jeans, coming up triumphant with his cell phone and punching in speed dial for his personal assistant.
"Paige?" Jared yells into the phone. "Hey, Paige!"
"Jesus, what?" she grumbles. "Jared, you realize it's nine a.m on New Year's Day, right? And that the only reason I answered my phone right now is because there was a distinct possibility you might have been dead and someone was using your phone to let me know?" She pauses. "You're not dead, are you?"
"No," Jared says, turning his back to the strippers. "No, I'm not dead. Listen, I need a favor."
"A favor," she says slowly. "You better be paying me really well for this one."
"I'll pay you so well you won't even know what to do with yourself," Jared tells her. "Just, please, Paige, do this for me."
She sighs. "Fine. I don't know why, but fine. What do you want?"
"I need you to find out where Jensen Ackles is right this second—"
"He's on Broadway, come on," she interrupts.
"—and I need you to find the fastest way to get me to wherever he's going to be when I get there," Jared finishes.
She's silent for a moment. "As in, you want me to get you on a plane to New York on New Year's Day and then get you to exactly wherever the hell Jensen Ackles is," she says.
"Yup, you got it."
"You're insane," Paige tells him. "You're actually clinically insane. Maybe not as insane as that one time Angelina Jolie wanted her personal assistant to acquire her an electric chair, but still pretty damned insane."
"Thanks," Jared says. "I owe you big time."
"Damn right, you do," she says as he hangs up on her.
"You're kind of a prick, you know," one of the strippers says, giving him the finger as she and the other stripper collect their purses and slam the door behind them.
"Have a nice life!" Jared says cheerfully. His pulse is going about fifteen times faster than it should. He's back in his old life, back in L.A. with a hangover the size of Texas, but it doesn't matter. He's going to fly to New York and he's going to find Jensen and he's going to find a way to fix everything he's fucked up in the past ten years. He's got a whole bottle's worth of massage oil all over him mixed with dried come, though; he really fucking needs a shower.
He's in and out in less than five minutes—he doesn't want to miss Paige's call—and he's even all the way packed before his doorbell rings, which is weird, because no way would Paige be driving in all the way from Pasadena just for this. He peers through the eyehole and sees Chad staring back at him. He'd forgotten, but Chad has a beard. It looks like something small and furry died on his face.
"What are you doing awake right now?" Jared says, letting him in.
"Get your ass out here, fucker!" Chad says, walking into the room. "You already missed twelve hours of the New Year's Day party, bitch!"
"I don't think I'm going to—"
Chad stares at him. "You're not gonna pussy out on me, are you? Seriously?"
Jared's cell phone buzzes. He makes a mad dive for it. "Paige? Yeah?"
"I got you on the 12:00 flight out into Newark," Paige says. "It's out of LAX, and you have no idea how fucking much you owe me."
"I owe you my life," Jared says, ignoring Chad's muttering in the background. "And where is he?"
"In his bed asleep like any normal person, probably," Paige says. "He's in the West Village. You got a pen?"
Jared digs for one and takes down the address. He's about to ask for Jensen's cell phone number when he remembers he's already got it in his phone. "Have I mentioned that you're amazing?" he says.
"Have I mentioned how very much you owe me?"
"Have a wonderful New Year's," Jared says cheerily, hanging up the phone.
"Dude, since when are you gay?" Chad says. "'Have a wonderful New Year's'?"
Jared pretty much dies of laughter. He can't even help it. He grabs his duffel bag off the floor and his keys off the counter and says, "I'll see you around, man. Have a good day."
"What the hell? You're coming to the club with me, right?"
"No," Jared says. "Not so much. Lock the door when you leave, okay?"
"What the hell?" Chad repeats.
"Oh and hey, Chad? You'd probably make a really good dad."
Chad looks kind of like a blowfish when he's reduced to not talking. Jared wishes a little bit that he could catch it on his cell phone and post it to YouTube, but he really doesn't have enough time.
Jared spends an hour sitting in traffic on the way to LAX, and then another hour standing in security, another waiting at the gate, five on the plane, one and a half in a cab from the airport, and by the time he gets out in the West Village, it's a little after 10:30 at night.
Snow's been coming down ever since he landed in New York, huge fat flakes turning the city white. There are a few cars on the streets, but it's New Year's Day; probably everyone's still inside, not even thinking about leaving their apartments. Jensen's probably home. The only thing on Jared's mind this whole day has been to get to Jensen as soon as possible, but now that he's here he needs a minute, so he just starts walking, his breath puffing white in front of his face.
After a few minutes he ends up on Christopher Street, full of bars and brownstones and the faint strains of showtunes. It's still pretty empty outside, but a group of four guys stumbles out of one of the bars, laughing and leaning against each other. "Shall we head to Pommes Frites?" one of the guys asks, his lisp carrying all the way down the block.
"Yeah, sure," another of the guys says. "I could go for some fries."
Jared stares in their direction, because he knows that voice and then he realizes: It's Jensen. Jared is frozen in place; he can't even get his vocal chords to work, because that's Jensen—not quite as soft in the face as the Jensen Jared knew until this morning, but it's still him, definitely him, and finally Jared gets himself together enough to yell, "Jensen!"
Jensen turns in his direction and squints. Then his whole face lights up. "Jared!" he says, walking toward him. "What are you—"
Jared jogs up to Jensen, grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him. Jared's lips are cold from being outside for however long it's been, but Jensen's are warm and pressing back against his and Jensen's gripping Jared by the arms.
"Um," Jensen says. "Hi to you, too. What was—"
"I'm so sorry," Jared says. "God, Jensen, I'm so sorry, I've been a fucking idiot for ten years, man, ten years and why didn't you say anything, and—"
He knows he's babbling but he doesn't seem able to stop, so it's a good thing that Jensen says, "Hey, Jared. Hold on a second for me and breathe, okay?"
Jared breathes. It's a little more difficult than he remembers it being.
Jensen turns to the other three guys, who are staring at him amusedly. "Um. Maybe I'll catch you later?"
"I sincerely hope not," the guy with the lisp says, waggling his eyebrows. "You have a good night, now."
Jensen flips him the finger and the three guys walk away, laughing. Then he turns back to Jared. "You still breathing?"
Jared nods. Taking deep breaths and then releasing them, that's the key.
"Good," Jensen says. "That's good. Now talk again, but with little words. What's going on with you?"
"I just." Jared swallows. "There was this glimpse, okay? We were married and we lived in Vancouver and we had these two kids named Annie and Josh and a dog named Maggie and you were a high school drama teacher and I was a weatherman—"
"You know you need a degree to do that, right?" Jensen says. "To be a weatherman?"
Jared considers for a second, but then he's off and running again. "I don't know, maybe I had one, but it doesn't matter, because we had these kids, and we lived in my old house in Vancouver, the one I bought when the show was going, and I didn't ask Sandy to marry me, I came back and got with you instead and—"
"You might want to breathe again," Jensen says seriously. "Lack of oxygen can really damage your brain."
Carefully, Jared takes a deep breath and then exhales. "So what do you think?" he says.
Jensen stares. "Was there a question in there somewhere?"
"Oh," Jared says. "Maybe not. I'm an idiot and I just realized I'm in love with you and do you want to get married and have kids?"
Jensen bursts out laughing.
"I'm totally serious!" Jared says, affronted. "Do I at all look like I'm not serious?"
"The terrifying thing is, no, you don't," Jensen says, wheezing. "I'm pretty sure you actually mean it."
"I tell you I'm in love with you and you think I'm crazy," Jared says.
"Jared," Jensen says. "Have you even thought about what this looks like? I haven't seen you in ten fucking years, man, and you show up in New York and tell me you're in love with me?"
"Why'd you call me yesterday, Jensen?" Jared asks.
"Because I wanted to say congrats for getting the Golden Globe nomination!"
Jared looks at his face carefully. "That's it? That was the only reason? You just said it yourself, man, it's been ten years since we last talked."
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Really, that was the only reason. I just saw your name on the list and wanted to say, you know. Good job."
"And you don't ever think about what would have happened if we hadn't drifted after the show ended, if I hadn't been a total fucking idiot?"
Jared can't quite read Jensen's face. "What's your point?" he asks.
"I mean, I think there could be something here," Jared says, touching Jensen's arm. Jensen doesn't pull away from him. "With you and me, I mean. I think there could be something really awesome, and I don't know about you, man, but I want to find out what that could be."
"You know I could have a wife," Jensen says seriously. "Or a girlfriend."
"You were out with three of the gayest guys I've ever seen on a street with rainbow flags on half the windows," Jared points out. "I kind of doubt it."
"Damn," Jensen says, mouth down-turned a little at the edges. "Guess you caught me."
"No boyfriend, either?" Jared asks, stepping closer into Jensen's space. Jensen still doesn't back away.
Jensen shakes his head. "Not right now, no."
Jared moves his hands onto Jensen's shoulders. "So what do you think, then?"
"About what?" Jensen asks. He's staring at Jared's mouth.
"You and me," Jared says. His pulse is going about eighty times as fast as it should. "What do you think?"
"I don't know," Jensen says. There's a bit of a smile on his face as he says it. "I mean, I haven't seen you in ten years, dude. You really want to jump right into—whatever this is?"
"That's not a no, though, is it?" Jared says, seizing on the loophole.
"I'll give you a chance, anyway," Jensen says. "Probably because I'm as fucking crazy as you are."
"That means I can kiss you, though, right?" Jared says.
Jensen looks like he's considering for a moment, then he grins. "Why the fuck not," he says, and pulls Jared in, his tongue moving against Jared's as the snow falls around them and his hands on Jared's face and the only thing Jared can think is: finally, finally, yes.
*
part one | part two | part three | notes & acknowledgments | master post
