Title: Accidents Happen
Word Count: 3,100
Disclaimer: Jared and Jensen belong to themselves.
Summary: Jared wakes up one morning, rolls over, and kisses Jensen. And then freaks out about it.
Author's Notes: A few days ago I was talking to balefully, and I said I wanted to write a fic about guys getting together after being in a club. And Lucy said, "Write it! Make it J2!" And I said, "No way, dude, they LIVE TOGETHER. If they were going to get together, it wouldn't be because of a CLUB." And then this fic happened. So this is for balefully. Also, big thanks to walkawayslowly, not just for being awesome, but also for betaing and killing all those colons.
When Jared first bought the house, Jensen spent a lot of time bitching about how Jared keeps the plasma screen in his bedroom. Jared likes to fall asleep with the TV on and he might as well fall asleep in the bed instead of on the couch and not have to move at all. It's totally logical. He's twenty-six years old and he owns his own house; he can keep his TV in his bedroom if he wants to.
Except after he moves in, Jensen says, "I live here, too, you know. Would it fucking kill you to keep the TV in the living room like the rest of the world?"
"We're in Canada," Jared tells him. "Land of the bedroom TV. If you want to watch, you can come hang out in here."
So Jensen spends a lot of time watching TV on Jared's bed. He falls asleep in there, on average, three nights a week. He's pretty much always gone by morning, so he must be waking up sometime in the middle of the night and going back to the guest bedroom ("It's not the guest bedroom anymore since I actually live here," Jensen keeps pointing out.) but sometimes, when they've worked really late, Jensen passes out hard and never leaves. It's not like it's a problem or anything; Jared's bed is bigger than some island nations and they’re both capable of sticking to their sides.
Sometimes Jared wakes up with Jensen wedged against him, because when they're asleep neither of them is much good at keeping track of which side of the bed is theirs. After three years of spending way too much time with Jensen, Jared figures he can deal with the guy drooling on his shoulder every once in a while.
But one morning in early October, Jared wakes up and Jensen's right next to him, head on the same pillow as Jared's. Jensen's breathing deep and slow, close enough that the air on Jared's face is warm when he exhales. His face is smooth with sleep but the crinkles of laughter at the edges of his eyes are still clear, the ghosts of freckles that the sun hasn't brought out fully. Jared's half-asleep, not really thinking about what he's doing. He shifts a little, and when he does his mouth is against Jensen's. He opens his mouth to breathe and his tongue touches Jensen's bottom lip, traces along the edge of it, and Jensen moves against him, opens his mouth, and wakes up. His eyes open and go wide and he scrambles back off the bed, staring at Jared, and Jared just kissed him. Holy shit.
"Um," Jensen says, "I'm going to, yeah." He shuts the bathroom door behind him, and Jared gets up and takes the dogs for their morning walk, and when he gets back Jensen's at the breakfast bar eating cereal like nothing happened and they don't talk about it so it's basically like nothing did.
Things are fine on set that day. Great, actually. Jared and Jensen are in tune with each other and everyone else is in tune with them; they're hitting all of their scenes within the first few takes, no problem. They're out of there early and Kim's in a good mood and basically everything is completely awesome.
Except for how Jared can't stop looking at Jensen's mouth in the car on the way home.
It's not like he doesn't know what Jensen's mouth looks like. The amount of time Sam spends staring at Dean's face, Jared could probably draw it from memory: the way his lips can look pink in some kinds of lighting, a kind of red-wine color in others; the way his freckles creep right up to the corners of his mouth and over the edges. It's never seemed weird, before, that he knows this, but now he's felt that mouth against his—and it wasn't that it felt any different than kissing anyone else's mouth, physically, but it's weird that he's done it. He wasn't all the way awake yet; he didn't actually mean to do it. Telling himself that isn't making it any less weird.
Also the fact that they're in the car home and they're not talking; that's fucking weird, but the car ride's almost over. They're almost at the point where Jensen would get out of the car and go into his hotel and when he called later to see if Jared wanted to hang out Jared could say he was really tired, sorry man, and they wouldn't see each other until they were in the car again the next morning. Except for how they keep driving right past Jensen's hotel because Jensen doesn't live in the hotel anymore, and it would be a whole lot easier not to think about the fact that Jared kissed Jensen this morning if Jared could go home and not have to see him; if they didn't live in the same house.
The moment they get in the door, Harley and Sadie make straight for Jensen. They've already had their afternoon walk—Mary Bishop from down the street goes with them every day as soon as she gets home from high school—but Jensen's spoiled the dogs: he's been taking them for a nighttime walk every day since he's moved in, and now they're completely ridiculous if he doesn't take them.
"You coming?" Jensen says, holding the dogs' leashes out of reach while Harley leaps for them.
"Nah, I'll pass," Jared says, even though he usually goes. "I'm going to take a shower."
Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Didn't you take one in your trailer?"
"Yeah, but a really fast one. Jeannie put, like, a bucket of product in my hair today," Jared says. "Seriously, I should wring my hair out, bottle the goop up and take it back to her tomorrow."
Jensen steps forward, cranes his neck, and looks Jared's head. Jared knows what his hair looks like right now; it's actually glistening. If he left that amount of product in there for a few more hours, he'd be able to break strands off like icicles. His hair is totally ridiculous looking, and it's definitely worth staring at, but Jensen's staring it for a really freaking long time, and he's pretty close to Jared's face and it's kind of hard to breathe under that kind of scrutiny, even though it can't have lasted more than a moment, because the dogs are whining and pushing against Jensen's legs, impatient.
"You make a good point," Jensen concedes, stepping back. "We'll see you in a bit." He wrestles the leashes onto the dogs; they're gone, and Jared finally takes a breath. He goes to shower.
Half a bottle of shampoo later, Jared’s thinking of sending Jeannie the bill for a new bottle and his hair is back to normal. He stands under the hot water for a while afterwards anyway, rubbing conditioner through his hair and then reaching down to slick up his cock. He's been jittery all day; he definitely needs to jerk off.
He's thinking about this girl Amy he met when he first moved to L.A. She used to be a bartender at this place in Westwood that he and the Gilmore Girls crowd went to pretty often. She had dark brown hair cut short and angled toward her chin, and she wore wifebeaters with jeans in a way that made it pretty much impossible not to stare at her breasts. She was probably in her early twenties and gave him drinks without carding him and totally ignored him when he tried to talk about anything but his next two beers; it was really fucking hot.
Jared hasn't seen her in years but she's a good one to jerk off to. He thinks about how it would be if he went back to that bar now (she still works there, for jerking off fantasy purposes) and she let him fuck her in the bathroom. She'd be grinding against him, alternating kisses with panting against his mouth, and he tugs his dick harder as she opens her mouth and sucks his tongue in and it's not Amy anymore, it's Jensen, and Jared's so surprised that he comes immediately, all over his hand. He leans against the back wall of the shower, shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm and failing at not freaking out.
Kissing Jensen is one thing; coming from thinking about kissing him is totally different. And he could write it off as not meaning anything except that thinking about it now there's a tug of want in his gut, strong enough to that it's nauseating. If he hadn't just come he'd be getting hard right now, and that's enough to propel him right out of the shower. No way is he staying in there long enough to get hard again and have to jerk off thinking about Jensen on purpose.
By the time he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Jensen's back with the dogs. Harley's slurping off water like there's a drought coming, Sadie's lying on the kitchen floor with all four legs in the air, and Jensen's sitting on the floor next to her, giving her a belly rub. He's craning over her and saying, "You're a good girl, aren't you, Sadie? Yeah, look who's a good girl." The sound of his voice makes Jared's stomach bottom out. It's worse seeing him even than it was thinking about him while jerking off, like way worse, because it's not a fluke, it's that he actually wants to—something, he wants to something with Jensen, no way is he naming that something, and no way is he staying in this room with Jensen long enough for Jensen even to catch his eye.
"Jared?" Jensen says, catching his eye.
"Um," Jared says. "You know, I'm really tired. Uh! I'm going to bed, good night, see you in the morning." He makes a break for his room, but Jensen's a tricky fucker. He takes the side hallway, gets to Jared's door right at the same time Jared does, and grabs the doorknob first. Jensen turns around to block the door and usually Jared would wrestle right through him but right now Jensen's warm and a little sweaty from walking the dogs and yeah, that's not happening.
"You doing okay?" Jensen says, staring at him.
"Sure," Jared says. He's breathing more rapidly than normal. "I'm fine, I'm just pretty worn out."
"You eaten anything yet?"
"I grabbed some stuff before you got back," Jared lies. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"Okay," Jensen says. He's staring at Jared strangely as Jared shuts the door.
It's only a little after ten; Jared hasn't gone to sleep before midnight in months, and he can't do it now. He lies awake in bed for hours. Also, he's starving. He opens his nightstand and eats the rest of the Oreos from when he was watching Deadliest Catch with Jensen last week. It's not nearly enough food, and also Oreos kind of suck without milk to dip them in, but he's not going into the kitchen for milk. He's not leaving the room for anything; he's not facing Jensen.
But that's the other thing: the last time he was in this room, he was here with Jensen, and Jared kissed him—and if he'd meant to do it, that would be one thing, if it had been a joke or a dare. He could have laughed at Jensen's look of panic and said, "One-up that," and they could have laughed it off. But he didn't mean to do it, and he doesn't know why he did, and so it's not something he can shake off and ignore.
Jared's still awake sometime after two a.m. He spends the night restless, too hot to sleep, the sheets sticking to his skin.
"You feeling better this morning?" Jensen asks.
Jared's sure, suddenly, that if he meets Jensen's eyes Jensen will be able to see right through him. "Oh yeah, way better," Jared says. He needs orange juice.
Jensen turns back toward the counter then, reaching for the coffee right as Jared's opening the fridge, and they bump into each other. Their faces are right next to each other, Jensen's mouth close enough that Jared could reach down and just—Jensen's eyes are wide just like they were yesterday morning, when Jared actually did kiss him, and one of them moves away and then the other one does.
Jensen coughs. "You better get dressed if you don't want to make us late for work again."
Jared slides his feet into a pair of flip-flops and says, "See, there! Done," but in the space where he'd usually be cracking a joke there's nothing but silence, Jensen heading out to the car first for the drive to the set and Jared sliding into the back seat carefully, staying as far away from Jensen as he can.
"I think I TiVoed Transformers," Jensen says. He's already walked the dogs and they're winding down for the night. "You want to watch robots blow shit up?"
Jared thinks of Jensen on his bed, lying back on the pillows next to him. "I'm pretty tired," he starts to say, but Jensen's already opening his mouth to say what's going to be, You're freaking kidding me. "Uh, sure," Jared says.
It could be any other night in the three months they've lived together, except that Jared hesitates at the doorway for a second, just for a second, before he goes through, and it's not any night. It's been thirty-six hours since Jared lost his mind and kissed Jensen, and now Jensen's going back in Jared's room and getting on the bed, and following Jensen in there is the worst idea Jared's ever had. They could move the TV out into the living room and watch the movie there; that would be way better. They wouldn't be on his bed, then. Except instead of saying anything about that to Jensen, Jared goes into the bedroom.
Jensen is sprawled out in the middle of the bed. He has propped himself up against the headboard and is flipping through the TiVo menu. Jared sits down on the very edge of the bed, so close to the edge he's nearly falling off. He stares at Jensen's hand on the remote, and has the sudden urge to kiss the pad of Jensen's thumb, flick his tongue out to touch it. The thought's making his dick go half-hard in his boxers, and that's enough to freak him out right there; it should definitely freak him out enough to leave the room. Instead he covers his lap with a pillow, shifts against the headboard, and keeps his eyes directly on the TV as the opening credits roll.
Jared's seen Transformers before, but he still can't follow it. Jared's bed is huge but it feels small, now; he could roll over and be touching Jensen in an instant. Jensen's sitting way closer than he usually does. It's driving Jared crazy. He feels like his stomach is trying to crawl out of his skin, like when he breathes the bed is vibrating. He's so hyperaware of the rising and falling of Jensen's chest, of Jensen's slightest movements, that he's only seeing flashes of the movie; even though he's been staring at the screen the whole time, has seen it all before, he can't say how Shia LeBouf goes from having a car to having Bumblebee. There must have been some progression of events; he totally missed it.
The movie doesn't matter, anyway. It totally doesn't matter; Jared has no idea why they're watching it in the first place. He has no idea why he's still in the room. He shouldn't be; he's getting out of there now, before he does anything stupid. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and Jensen's hand is on his shoulder. For a moment Jared is still, facing the doorway, and then he turns back.
Jensen has a deeply intent look on his face, directed all at Jared, the full intensity of it. It was already too much and it's worse now. He shouldn't have turned back. He needs to get out of there; he needs to be gone.
In the fraction of a second between the thought and the action, Jensen kisses him.
Jared registers the fact that Jensen is pressing his mouth to his, and then afterward he registers that Jensen is kissing him. This is Jensen kissing him, this is Jensen's mouth moving hot against his, this is Jensen pulling away from him, Jensen saying, "Shit fuck sorry," before it's even all the way clear to Jared what's going on.
And then, abruptly, it is clear. They just kissed. Jensen kissed him on purpose. Not just that, Jensen kissed him on purpose and now he's pulling away; he's thinking that Jared didn't kiss him back because he didn't want to.
"Hold on," Jared says, scrambling toward him. "Hold on, I—"
"Never mind, I didn't—" Jensen says.
Jared stays his hand where he's already reaching out; it's suspended in the air between them. There's barely any space between them. There's not much of anything between them at all. He could reach forward and touch Jensen, and he does. He takes his hand and lays it on Jensen's shoulder. Jensen looks at the hand and takes a deep and shuddering breath.
"Hey," Jared says. "I, uh—"
He tries to kiss Jensen. He lunges toward him deliberately, but one of them moves wrong or the other does. Jared catches Jensen's cheek and the corner of his mouth. Jensen makes a loud noise of surprise and pulls back.
"Are you," Jensen begins, just as Jared says, "Sorry, I—"
"This is friggin' ridiculous, seriously," Jensen says. He catches Jared's head in his hand and tilts their heads together carefully, so that when their mouths touch, they're in the right place, and it's perfect—it's just as perfect as it was two mornings ago, before Jared had done any thinking about this. Because that's just the thing: there's no need to do any thinking, no need to consider any of this.
This is Jensen, and this is happening; there's no need to question it. He can have Jensen's mouth on his, Jensen pulling Jared's bottom lip between his teeth, and it's fine and good and glorious. There's no need to question where they're going from here because they've always been going this way, ever since the start; it just took them this long to know it.