Entry tags:

fic, harlequin, jared/jensen, rps

FIC: Mr. Right Next Door (3/5)
For the summary and links to all parts of the fic, please see the master post.

Part Three

For the life of him Jared couldn't have said why he was awake at five-thirty on Sunday morning. He usually got up pretty early on Sundays so that he didn't hate the world so much at five-thirty on Monday, but not this early. For whatever reason, though, he was completely awake now, so he just rolled with it, got out of bed and headed towards the kitchen to make some coffee. He didn't even really need the coffee; he was plenty alert as it was, but the force of habit had him heading out of his bedroom and past the office, about to turn left into the kitchen, but before he made the turn something caught in the corner of his eye. He went over to the office window, looked outside and saw Jensen jogging down the street.

Jared didn't even think about it. He just went back into his room, pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt and laced up his running shoes by the door, then headed after Jensen.

It was cooler this morning than it'd been lately, but Jensen had enough of a head start that Jared had broken a sweat pretty quickly trying to catch with him. When Jared got to the intersection of Poplar and Garrison he wasn't sure which way Jensen had headed, but on a hunch he hung a right. He figured Jensen would be more likely to take a straight shot route when he was running by himself, and sure enough, he was right: after a few more minutes he recognized Jensen's form a couple blocks ahead of him. Jared put on a burst of speed to catch up.

"Hey," he called once he was a few feet away from Jensen, and Jensen jumped like he'd seen an honest-to-God ghost.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jensen swore, turning his head as Jared ran up beside him. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

"You didn't hear me running up behind you?" Jared asked, matching Jensen's stride.

Jensen scowled. "No. I was kind of distracted."

"Having a moment with the pavement, huh?" Jared cracked, but Jensen's face was weirdly blank, eyes fixed straight ahead of him.

"Yeah, something like that. Hey, what are you doing up, anyway? I didn't think you ran on Sundays."

Jared pushed the hair off his forehead. "I do sometimes, just not so early in the morning. Why didn't you tell me you were going to go this morning? I wouldn't have had to chase your ass halfway down Garrison. Oh, hey, I guess you're feeling better then, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm good on that," Jensen replied.

There was something weird about the way he said it, something Jared couldn't put his finger on just then. Jensen was quiet for the rest of the run and he beat Jared easily when they raced to the finish. "You only won because I had to sprint to catch up earlier," Jared said. It should have gotten a smile out of Jensen, would have any other day, and Jared couldn't figure out why the fuck Jensen's mouth just barely quirked to the side instead before he said, "See you around," and headed back into his house, leaving Jared alone and confused.

It hit Jared midway through the morning, what had been weird about Jensen's reply earlier. I'm good on that, he'd said. Not I'm good. He'd said, I'm good on that, like there was something else he wasn't good on, and whatever it was, Jensen wasn't telling him about it.

That was fine. Whatever it was, it was Jensen's business, and Jared wasn't going to go prying into it. Jared told himself that, and he really meant to follow with it, except that a couple of days later, Jensen was still acting weird. On Monday morning he'd stumbled out of his house five minutes later than usual for their run, and Jared had the feeling that Jensen had almost decided not to come running at all. They didn't always talk when they ran, but they talked often enough that it wasn't out of the ordinary when one of them made a comment or cracked a joke, but every time Jared opened his mouth on Monday it felt like he was hitting a wall, Jensen replying with nothing but a monosyllable "uh-huh" or a "yeah, sure."

Tuesday morning wasn't any better. After Tuesday's run he turned to Jensen and said, on impulse, "Hey, what are you doing tonight, man? You want to come over to my place and watch some T.V. after dinner?"

Jensen frowned and said, "Sorry, I can't, I've got a lot of stuff I've got to do tonight," which didn't ring true, seeing as Jared was pretty darned sure that computer programmers who worked out of the home could set their own hours.

But Jared just replied, "That's cool, another night, then."

Jensen nodded. "Yeah, sure. See you later," he said and headed inside. That was another thing that was weird: usually they stretched on the sidewalk for a few minutes after they ran, talked a little while Jared tried to see just how late he could push it before he had to go shower and eat or else be late for work, but these past few days it seemed like Jensen couldn't get back inside his house fast enough.

Wednesday's run wasn't any better, and afterwards, when Jared tried asking Jensen again if he wanted to come over and watch T.V. after dinner, Jensen gave him the same bullshit answer -- "Sorry, it's just kind of a crappy time for work right now, maybe later." -- and Jared wanted to reach out and grab Jensen, make Jensen tell him what the fuck was going on, but he chickened out at the last minute, let Jensen head up the sidewalk and disappear into the house again.

Now that Jensen had turned him down the second day in a row, it was kind of hard not to think that whatever was going on with Jensen was somehow Jared's fault. Jensen wouldn't be acting like this around him if Jared hadn't done something, would he? The thing was, he couldn't figure out what he could have possibly done that would be making Jensen act like this, like he was just putting on the front of being friends with Jared instead of them actually being friends. And Jared wouldn't have expected it before this had happened, but he actually missed Jensen. He missed hanging out with him and watching baseball or bad T.V. He missed Jensen laughing at his lame jokes while they went on their runs. He missed being friends with the guy, and whatever had happened to make them not be friends anymore, he needed to find out what it was.

Thursday morning was the first truly hot morning of the summer, the air heavy with humidity even a little before six a.m. Jared was leading Jensen on the long circuit route, the one that looped through the park, and Jensen was as unreadable as ever, running beside him. Jared slowed a little once they got into the park, took one of the smaller paths instead of the main one, slowed even further as they ran down it until he was barely even jogging as they passed the pond. Jensen just slowed right down with him, didn't so much as question it until finally Jared was flat out walking. Only then did Jensen say, "Hey, what're we doing?"

Jensen wasn't even looking at Jared when he said it, and somehow that set Jared off, made him step right in front of Jensen and stop him from moving forward. "Dude, what are you doing?" Jensen repeated. There was an odd edge to his voice that Jared couldn't place.

And Jared had thought through how he wanted this conversation to go, how he was going to phrase things so Jensen wouldn't shut down on him, but now that he was here he couldn't remember a single thing he'd planned on saying. Instead he said, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jensen said, looking anywhere but at Jared's face.

"Yeah, you do," Jared replied, putting his hands on Jensen's shoulders. Jensen tried to shrug him off but Jared didn't let him. "Look at me. What's going on with you lately?"

"Nothing," Jensen insisted.

"Bullshit," Jared shot back, leaning towards him. "Will you at least freaking look me in the eye? I just can't figure you out lately. I thought we were getting pretty tight, and then you start acting all weird on me, like you don't really want to be around me at all, and I don't get it, Jensen. I just want you to fucking tell me what's going on with--"

--you, was how that sentence was supposed to end, but Jared never got that last word out, because Jensen grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him, hard and unhesitating. Jared opened his mouth a little, surprised, and Jensen's tongue flicked along Jared's teeth. Jensen curled his fingers around Jared's skull and his stubble rasped against Jared's cheek, and Jared's mind was a blank, taking in sensation but putting out no thought until Jensen pushed back, eyes flaring wide. The park was quiet but for their panting and a few snatches of birdsong, and Jensen was looking anywhere but at him.

"There," Jensen said roughly. "You happy?"

Jared was reeling, too many thoughts firing at once, but apparently Jensen wasn't waiting for a response: he turned and jogged back the way they'd come, footfalls heavy on gravel, and Jared didn't try to follow him.

*

It wasn't until Jared got back to the house that he really thought about what had happened. He kicked off his shoes and headed in to shower and that was when it hit him: Jensen had kissed him. Jared had just wanted to figure out what was going on with the guy, and okay, maybe he'd pushed a little harder than he should have after four days of not making Jensen talk about it at all, but he hadn't had any idea that Jensen was going to react like that. Jared hadn't seen the kiss coming at all, and it was messing with him. A guy didn't ordinarily go kissing his friends out of nowhere, did he? Jared tried to imagine what it would have been like if the same thing had happened with Chad, but he couldn't even get his mind to the point where Chad started to reach for him before he started laughing. It was just that nothing like that could have ever happened with Chad; there was no way. They weren't that kind of friends.

But he and Jensen were? Jared didn't know. Jensen was straight, though, right? For sure he was straight. Maybe Jared had never asked him directly, but they'd definitely talked about how hot Jessica Biel was at least twice. So okay, maybe that was a bad example, because Jared was reasonably sure that most of the straight women he knew would renounce all men for Jessica Biel -- she was hot enough to trump all gender preference -- but even if Jensen wasn't straight, he had to know Jared was, right? Because Jared was in love with Sandy, and she was a woman, and Jared was straight, for sure, and Jensen knew that he was in love with Sandy--

Except that Jensen didn't know, Jared realized all of a sudden. He didn't know Jared was in love with Sandy because in the entire time that Jared had known Jensen, Jared hadn't mentioned her. Not once.

That was weird, wasn't it? He'd known Jensen for a month, had gone running with him every morning for the past two weeks and hung out with him besides, and Jared had never once mentioned the woman he was hoping to marry. That was definitely weird.

*

Jared was having trouble keeping his mind on work. That was never a good thing when you were working with over-filled classes of twelve and thirteen-year-olds, but they weren't doing anything too complicated today, just going over the quizzes he'd given last Friday, so he could have gotten through that just fine. But people were asking him what was going on when he was in the teachers' lounge during breaks, and he panicked a little, couldn't help wondering if Jensen kissed me this morning was written in big letters on his forehead, and his stomach did a slow-roll at the thought.

"You all right there, Jared?" Kristen asked during their shared free period, going to fill the coffee pot from the water cooler. Jared had been monopolizing it for the past fifteen minutes, filling his Nalgene and emptying it, and he hadn't really thought about how that could seem a little odd until now.

"Yeah, I'm good, just thirsty," he told her.

Kristen raised an eyebrow. "Just thirsty?"

"Yep," Jared said, smiling. "I'm a growing boy, need to keep hydrated."

"Good God, I hope not," she replied with a grin and headed over to the coffee machine. She wasn't acting any differently than usual, but Jared couldn't stop himself from thinking that she'd been able to look at him and just know.

Jared made it through the rest of the day somehow, but it didn't get any better after he was home. It was just -- Jensen lived right next door, and he couldn't stop thinking about it, replay of the kiss running over and over: the way Jensen had grabbed him and pulled his head down, the feel of Jensen's tongue sliding into his mouth, the press of Jensen's chest against his. It had been a good kiss, he thought suddenly, and that thought freaked him out more than the rest of it. But now that he'd thought it he couldn't stop thinking it. Jensen had kissed him and he'd liked it, and if he hadn't been confused enough about this whole thing before, that went ahead and pushed it right over the line.

Jared was straight. It hadn't ever been a question; it had just been something he'd always known, the same way he knew his name and where he lived and what size shoes he wore. It was just a fact, nothing he'd ever had to think about. He'd always liked girls, always liked the idea of them and the reality of them, too, small in his arms. Jared wasn't against the idea of being gay; it was just that he wasn't.

But he didn't like lying to himself, either: Jensen had kissed him, and Jared had liked it. Jensen was a guy. Those were the facts, and Jared didn't know what to do with them, because really, wasn't twenty-four a little old to start wondering if he liked guys? Wouldn't he have had some idea that this was a possibility?

He hadn't, though. That was the thing. He'd never thought of a guy in this context, and he didn't even know how to start dealing with it.

*

It wasn't any better in the morning, either. Jared got up at the usual time and had already put on his shoes and gone outside before he woke all the way up and remembered what had happened on yesterday morning's run. Most of him wanted to go back inside immediately, but part of him wanted to wait, stand his ground until Jensen showed up, try to figure out how they were going to go from here. He hadn't seen Jensen since it had happened, and he needed to; he couldn't figure out what was going on here by himself. So he stood outside and waited, but by six o'clock Jensen still hadn't showed, and if Jared was going to get a run in at all, he needed to go. One last hamstring stretch and he took off, and he could have sworn he saw a shape moving behind Jensen's front window.

*

It had been three days and Jared still hadn't seen Jensen again, not once. Jensen hadn't been showing up for their morning runs, even though Jared had waited for him ten minutes later than usual every day. Neither of them had tried to call the other, and Jared hadn't so much as seen the guy opening his door to pick up the paper in the morning or heading out back to take out the trash at night. Jared had missed Jensen last week, when Jensen had been sick and then busy, but that hadn't been anything like this, purposeful avoidance--

Except that it had been. It had been exactly like this, Jared realized suddenly, except that he hadn't known what was going on. Jensen had been trying to avoid him, and Jared had let him get away with it for a while, but then he'd pushed, and Jensen had kissed him, and the reason Jensen had been trying to avoid him was because Jensen wanted him. Jared was right about this, he had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. So he'd been right, hadn't he? It had been Jared's fault that Jensen had been avoiding him.

Jensen hadn't been acting weird around him before last week, though, hadn't been given any sign that he wanted Jared. It was something new, then. Jared thought back, tried to figure out what could have prompted it, if he could pin it down. When had Jensen started acting weird around him? Last Sunday, he thought. Last Sunday, the morning after he'd gotten whatever stomach bug he'd had at the bar. Maybe Jensen had caught some kind of crazy virus that had made him kiss Jared, Jared thought, something that had made him want Jared; but no, Jared was pretty much certain that homosexuality wasn't actually catching.

Jared didn't know when it had started, and the whole thing was just throwing him for a loop, that was all. He missed being friends with Jensen, missed how easy it had been to hang out with him, missed the way it had felt like they'd been friends for years already, but now that all this had happened, he didn't have any idea if he was ever going to get that back.

*

The Monday night after the whole mess started, Jared was over at Chad's house, playing Madden on Chad's PS2. Jared was really supposed to be grading his eighth graders' Julius Caesar essays, but after an hour of all the words blurring together into nonsense he'd given up and called Chad. They'd ordered pizza and Jared had drunk too much Mountain Dew and it was better than grading essays, for sure.

"Dude, you are scary good at this game tonight," Chad said after Jared scored his fifth touchdown in a row. "You sure you haven't been practicing or anything?"

"How would I have been practicing when I don't have Madden?" Jared asked, finishing his third Mountain Dew.

"I don't know, but if you don't quit with the soda you're going to be insane in a couple hours and I have no problem throwing your caffeine-high ass right out on the curb." Chad stuck his tongue out in concentration, angling for a first down throw; Jared's team intercepted it easily.

"I'm good on the soda." Jared grinned. "You're just pissed because you're losing."

"No, I'm pissed because you don't ever concentrate this hard on Madden," Chad said. "You usually at least give me a freaking chance, but it's like this is your personal battle against the world today. What's going on with you?"

Jared couldn't do anything but stare for a minute. Only Chad would be able to figure out that something was wrong because of how badly Jared was beating him at a PS2 game. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head a little and turning back to the game. He should be able to get a fifteen-yard-gain at least on this next play, better if Chad was distracted.

Chad hit the pause button. "Talk to me here, dude. You're a sucky liar."

Jared rested his controller on his knee, leaned forward and said, "Nothing's going on. Can I finish kicking your ass now?"

Chad just kept staring at him, and it was unnerving, almost to the point that Jared wanted to spill his guts just to get him to stop. Just when Jared was really starting to think about it, though, Chad said, "It's got something to do with Sandy, doesn't it?"

"Sandy," Jared repeated. Her name sounded strange to him, like he wasn't used to hearing it. But then when was the last time he'd heard her name? When was the last time he'd said it? Jared had no idea. He'd thought about her recently, sure, but it wasn't anything like it had been when he'd first gotten back from the cruise.

Back then, he hadn't been able to get her out of his head, had thought about her all the time. He'd been crazy about her. He'd been able to call up the line of her hips, the curve of her smile in an instant. He could still do it, but it took him a moment. Now, he had to think about her consciously, didn't catch himself daydreaming about her all the time, and that was weird, wasn't it? Sure, it had been a while since the cruise, but when he'd met her he'd been so certain that she was the one. A month and a half shouldn't have been long enough for him to start to forget about her, but if he couldn't recall everything about her immediately, wasn't that just what he was doing?

"I've got to go," Jared said abruptly. Chad gave him a strange look, but Jared ignored it, grabbed his stuff and headed home.

*

Jared couldn't fall asleep that night, no matter how hard he tried. Around midnight he gave the eighth grade essays another try in a last-ditch effort to put himself to sleep, but even that didn't work. He just couldn't stop thinking about Sandy -- about how he hadn't been thinking about her. A month and a half ago, he'd said goodbye to her at the end of the cruise. She'd promised him she would contact him as soon as she could and he'd said he would wait as long as it took, and he'd meant it, too. He'd known that she was the one, so it didn't matter how long it was going to take; if she was the one, he was more than willing to wait for her.

Jared had been so sure that Sandy was it, but if that were really true, then why was it so hard to call her whole image up in his mind? He could think of fragments of her, her hip, her cheek, but he couldn't get her whole face to stick in his mind at once. She was the one, he told himself, and he'd known it; he'd been sure of it for so long. But if she really were the one, why did he have to keep reminding himself of it?

*

Tuesday was another hot morning, so humid that it felt like moving through a steam bath. The A.C. had turned off in the middle of the night and the stickiness in the house was making Jared lethargic, enough that he considered just going back to bed and sleeping for another hour, but the force of habit made him pull on his running shoes and head outside at five-thirty as always. Maybe he'd cut the run short this morning, drink his coffee slowly, actually read the paper instead of just skimming it, and Jensen was standing on the sidewalk in front of Jared's house.

It had been the better part of a week and suddenly Jensen was there again, stretching his arms like nothing had changed. "Hey," Jared said, his mouth gone dry.

"Hey," Jensen said, smiling a little sheepishly. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For what happened. I didn't mean to -- look, it's stupid, I just wanted to see if we could start running together again."

"Yeah," Jared said, swallowing. "Yeah, of course, man. You didn't ever have to stop, you know."

Jensen fidgeted. "Yeah, I know. It's just -- this is really awkward, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jared agreed, laughing a little. "Yeah, it is."

Jensen's mouth turned down at the edges. "I just want this to stop being awkward," he said. "D'you think we could maybe, I don't know. Pretend that whole thing never happened?"

Jared looked at Jensen for a long moment -- the hunched line of his shoulders, the cautious hope on his face -- and he didn't know he was making a decision until he'd already done it, until he was stepping forward and saying, "No, I don't think so."

He put his hands on Jensen's shoulders again and Jensen looked up at him wonderingly. "Jared?"

"Hey," Jared said quietly, then leaned forward, pressed his mouth against Jensen's, slowly; Jensen could move away if he wanted to. They stood unmoving for a moment, mouths touching and Jensen's shoulders tense beneath Jared's hands. Jensen didn't kiss back, and the moment stretched until he was convinced Jensen was going to pull back. Jared swallowed and began to shift back, just a bit, but Jensen moved with him, pressed his mouth against Jared's again and flicked out his tongue to catch Jared's bottom lip and Jared hesitantly reached his tongue out to meet Jensen's. Jensen let out a frustrated noise and pulled Jared flush against him and somehow Jared had a hand on Jensen's neck.

Jensen pulled back far enough to whisper, "Fuck," against Jared's mouth.

Jared smiled, kissed him again. "Yeah," he agreed, touching his fingers to Jensen's ear, his neck.

Finally, finally Jensen pulled back, rested his forehead against Jared's. "We should go inside. I mean," he opened his eyes, "we're not going running right now, are we?"

"I don't think so," Jared said, out of control grinning and he never wanted to stop.

They pushed through the door to Jared's house, and Jared scrambled to shut the door as Jensen backed him against the wall, hands on his jaw. Their hips collided, one of Jensen's legs slid between Jared's and Jared felt like all of his nerve endings were firing at once. Jensen slid his mouth down the side of Jared's jaw, around to suck at the place where his jaw met his neck, and Jared arched forward against him. Jared's thigh pressed against the hard line of Jensen's cock and it threw him for a second, long enough that Jensen pulled back. "Hey," he said, face full of concern. "You okay?'

Jared couldn't stop staring at Jensen's mouth, wet and full from kissing. He'd just gotten thrown off for a moment, that was all. He wanted Jensen, actually wanted him; even just thinking about it made a thrill move through his gut. "Yeah," Jared said, "yeah," and kissed him again, ran his tongue along the edge of Jensen's teeth and bucked up against him, smiled at Jensen's hiss when their cocks touched.

It was good, it was better than good; Jensen was grinding him into the wall and then Jensen groaned, shoved a hand between their bodies and palmed Jared's cock and Jared bit out a, "Fuck," and came in his shorts.

Jensen was still kissing him, grinning against his mouth, and Jared might have been boneless, post-orgasmic, but he knew about reciprocity. He slid his hand past the elastic of Jensen's running shorts and it was about the hottest thing ever, the way Jensen hissed and arched into Jared's hand and bit down on Jared's shoulder when he came.

They didn't move for long minutes afterwards, just stood there panting into each others' mouths, and Jared pretty much never wanted to move again, unless it was to the bed and only then if he knew they wouldn't have to move for a damned long time. But he did have to move; it was a Tuesday morning. Jared exhaled against Jensen's mouth and murmured, "I've got to get ready for work."

Jensen stepped back a little but Jared held him by the arms and added, "I don't want to go," just to make sure Jensen was clear.

The side of Jensen's mouth tugged downwards, wryly. "You should probably take a shower and stuff. Can't really go to work looking like this, can you?"

"Well, you can," Jared said, "but they generally try to discourage it." Jensen grinned and Jared opened his mouth again before he really thought about it. "Hey, are you going to be around tonight when I get back? Around six? I was thinking we could maybe eat some dinner and, y'know. Do stuff."

There was a long moment in which Jensen didn't say anything, and Jared was certain he was going to say no. Jensen was going to say he'd realized the whole thing was a mistake and now things were even more fucked up, and Jared was an idiot who shouldn't have pushed so hard so fast. Jensen had said he wanted them to be friends and fuck, Jared hadn't even realized he wanted this thing until half an hour ago, and it was too much and--

"Yeah," Jensen said. "That'd be good," and he was grinning and Jared was grinning too, kissing him and everything was fine.

*

It wasn't until after he'd watched Padalecki get in his pick-up and take off for work that Jensen started to panic. He didn't really figure out that that was what was happening until later, but even before Padalecki had turned off of the street Jensen's hands were a little shaky. They'd done this, actually done it. Padalecki had kissed him and pushed him up against the wall and gotten him off, and God, Jensen had spent the past five days being miserable, incapable of not thinking about it, but thinking about it was a whole different thing than actually getting it, and he was panicking. He couldn't even really distill down just what it was that he was panicking about: the fact that Padalecki wanted him back? The fact that he'd actually gotten what he wanted? The fact that he'd just had sex with a guy? It was too much all at once, and it was making Jensen itchy in his skin, wired like he'd drunk a couple buckets of coffee, and there wasn't anywhere for all the energy to go.

Jensen nearly called Jeff again around noon, to try to get transferred. He got halfway through dialing before he hung up, because really, what did he think he was going to say to Jeff?

Jensen didn't know. He didn't have a freaking clue. By three o'clock he'd lost count of how many push-ups he did; once he got out of the triple digits Jensen had a tendency to get sidetracked by the straining of his muscles, and that was good, that was what he was looking for. Finally he quit, drank about a gallon of water and took a cold shower and concentrated on the itch of sweat sliding off his back.

Dinner around six, Padalecki had said, and Jensen had agreed to it. He'd just gotten off; he would have agreed to anything, but he was pretty sure that this was the worst idea in the world and he needed to be in another state before Padalecki got back from work. Possibly in another country.

By five-thirty Jensen was climbing-the-walls nervous. He didn't know if Padalecki was going to come over to his place or if Jensen was meant to go over there; he didn't know anything about the rules of this, and he'd nearly called Jeff another three times before reminding himself of how very hard Jeff would chew him out if he did. He'd already put all of his surveillance equipment on safe mode, still recording but not displaying anything that'd give him away. It was fucked up that he had to think about that sort of thing before Jared could come over. It was fucked up that he was in this situation to begin with, but he was in it, all right, no doubt about that.

Jensen had been trying to get ready for it, but when his doorbell rang at five forty-five he still started like a gun-shy animal. It was too soon for Padalecki to be here. He'd said six, and Jensen needed those extra fifteen minutes, needed an extra fifteen years. But he went to the door anyway, didn't even bother looking through the peephole before opening it.

"Hey," Padalecki said. He was wearing khakis and brown leather loafers and was sweating through his white button down shirt, and want curled thick in Jensen's gut.

Jensen swallowed. "Hey yourself. You haven't been home yet, have you?"

Stupid question; Jensen would have known immediately if he had, but Padalecki's mouth just twitched outwards. "No. I came straight over here. Left the forty-seven essays I have to grade tonight in the car, even."

"Dude, if you've got that much stuff to grade, what are you doing over here?" The bottom dropped out of Jensen's stomach even as he said it, but he pressed on: "You should do that, don't want to get behind on--"

"Do you really not get it?" Padalecki interrupted, amusement barely covering some stronger emotion on his face. Before Jensen could figure out what it was Padalecki was backing him into the hallway, knocking the door closed behind him. It was just like this morning except Jensen's heart was pounding even louder in his ears, and he had to wonder at this, how knowing what was coming could make him want it even more. Padalecki slid his hands around Jensen's back, pulled him in.

"You were freaking out, weren't you?" Padalecki said. "You thought I changed my mind, was going to come back over here and tell you I'd made a mistake, didn't want this."

That was it; that was it exactly. That was what had made him want to call Jeff again, want to try to get out of here; that was why he'd spent the whole day itchy in his skin. He hadn't even really thought about it, because thinking about it would have made it more real, but that was just what had been wrong with him. Jensen didn't trust himself to look at Padalecki, didn't trust himself to say anything.

"Hey," Padalecki said quietly. "Look at me."

Jensen did, reluctantly.

"I didn't change my mind. God, Jensen, do you have any idea? All day today, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Look, I've never done this with a guy before--"

"Me neither," Jensen cut in.

Padalecki was still talking. "--but look, Jensen, I want -- God. I want this, all right? I want to do this with you. You've got tell me this is all right, though, man, you've got to tell me I'm not alone in this--"

Jensen kissed him. He couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to. Jensen kissed him and Padalecki pressed him against the wall, fumbled with Jensen's zipper. "You gotta tell me if you want me to stop," Padalecki said roughly against Jensen's jaw.

"You kidding me?" Jensen panted. "I'll fucking kill you if you stop."

Padalecki grinned and bit down on Jensen's neck. A few more strokes and Jensen was going to collapse onto the floor, and Padalecki must have guessed it. "Bedroom?" he asked, pulling his hand out of Jensen's pants.

"Yeah," Jensen said, adrenaline spiking so hard he stumbled a little when Padalecki moved away. "God, yeah."

It sounded like the best idea in the world, and it was, except somewhere around the door to the bedroom Jensen slowed down. It was just -- kissing on the street and fumbling in the hall were one thing, but a bed was something else, made this a whole different kind of real. Jensen wanted this, God, he was achingly hard and his tongue was heavy in his mouth, but still he hesitated until he felt Padalecki's hand on the small of his back, Padalecki's mouth moving against his neck.

"Hey," Padalecki said quietly. "We don't have to do this, you know. We can stop."

And that was just what Jensen needed to hear. "No," he said, "I don't want to stop," and he pulled Padalecki into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed and fumbled with the buttons on Padalecki's shirt. They were too freaking many of them, and they were small, too; Jensen was impatient and his hands were trembling. Padalecki pushed Jensen's hands away and finished the rest of the buttons while Jensen went for his belt, pulling it fast out of the belt loops and getting Padalecki's zipper undone.

Padalecki shrugged his shirt off and shucked his pants; besides the t-shirt and boxers he still had on his socks. He should have looked ridiculous but somehow he didn't, urging Jensen to raise his arms and pulling Jensen's t-shirt off. Jensen's jeans were halfway off already, his cock tenting his boxers, and he lifted his hips to let Padalecki tug his jeans the rest of the way off, and then Padalecki was pushing him backwards onto the bed and following him down, sprawling all over Jensen.

Padalecki's cock was moving against his hip. There was nothing between them but boxers, and Jensen shifted underneath him to get their cocks to line up, hissed at the contact as Padalecki ground down onto him. It was nothing like that morning; it was better than that morning, Padalecki staring at him as they moved together, looking about as startled at Jensen felt. Jensen didn't know what he'd expected but God, he hadn't thought it would be anything like this, hadn't known it would be this good.

His orgasm built so quickly he didn't even realize he was going to come until he was shooting in his boxers, clenching his eyes shut, and Padalecki kissed him, then, licked his mouth open and groaned and came.

Padalecki didn't move for a long moment afterwards, just stayed sprawled all over Jensen. Jensen was too blissed-out to try to move him, but finally he got himself together enough to realize that the come was cooling in their boxers and it was going to be pretty damned gross if they didn't do something about it. "Dude," Jensen said, "you gotta move, my legs are falling asleep."

Padalecki kissed him, sleepy-eyed. "Don't want to move," he said. He rolled off of Jensen and wrinkled his nose at the sight of their boxers. "I haven't come in my pants since, oh wait, this morning."

Jensen threw an arm out to hit him, but somehow just ended up with his arm across Padalecki's chest instead and Padalecki staring down at it with something bordering on wonder, the same look he'd had when he was about to come. "Jensen," he exhaled. "God."

Padalecki didn't even need to say more, because Jensen felt the same way. He propped himself up on his side and kissed Padalecki again, slowly and thoroughly until Jensen couldn't breathe. Padalecki opened his eyes slowly as he pulled back and smiled a little regretfully. "I should go," he said, and Jensen's stomach hitched a little. It must have shown in his face, because Padalecki kissed him again and said, "Seventh grade essays, remember?" and Jensen couldn't stop the relief moving through him.

"Fucking kids," Jensen said.

"Yeah, I know," Padalecki said, mouth twitching. "Trying to educate them, what a crappy idea." He rolled off the side of the bed and stood up slowly, then gave his boxers a rueful glance. "I probably don't want to try to head back home just wearing these, do I?" he mused.

"Probably not," Jensen agreed, and then promptly lost all higher brain function when Padalecki pulled the boxers off. Because yeah, he'd had Padalecki's cock in his hand, but he hadn't seen Padalecki completely naked before, and Jensen couldn't stop staring the line of his back, the way his cock hung down between his legs when he bent over to pick up his pants.

Halfway through pulling the pants on, Padalecki looked up and grinned at him. "Busted," he sing-songed.

Jensen flushed but didn't look away. "Yeah, well, do you blame me?"

"Nah, not at all," Padalecki said, pulling his t-shirt back on. "I mean, I'll be the first to admit, it's a pretty awesome view."

Padalecki turned and Jensen stood up, kissed him again, slid his hands up Padalecki's back. "God," Padalecki breathed out. "I've got to go, Jensen, really."

Jensen stepped back, scratched at his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Padalecki paused in collecting the rest of his stuff, strewn across the room. "Running tomorrow morning, though, yeah?"

"Yeah, for sure," Jensen said automatically.

"Awesome," Padalecki said, dimples flashing, and left.

Fifteen minutes later, as he exited the shower, Jensen caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was still grinning.


Part Four