Big Bang 2012: Love Lies Burning. 17/24
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Jared leans into the open window and talks quietly to the cab driver before thumbing a note from his wallet and giving it to him. The cab drives away and it’s just Jared and Jensen outside the small side exit of the hospital with Jensen’s rucksack resting on the floor and Jensen crouching next to it, head in hands.
Jensen doesn’t know what to do or what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He can sense Jared looking down at him but he doesn’t raise his head to look. Jared has stopped speaking. He’s tried it all, but Jensen won’t communicate and won’t get in the cab. There was one before this, a different color and model. That one was sent away too. He just CAN’T. He hears a long sigh and the sound of footsteps receding and he knows that Jared has walked away. He’s lost and abandoned. There’s nothing that comes next and that makes it impossible to act.
He’s not sure how long he is on the ground, next to the things that he owns. There’s the passage of time marked by stranger’s legs walking past, the shine of blue and red lights and distant chatter. He has a peripheral sense that there’s some sort of invisible barrier around him. Nobody approaches him or talks at him. He is in his own reality and he doesn’t want the intrusion.
There are colors and there are numbers but they don’t comfort him. He needs to move but he’s not sure where he is going. He wants to see Sadie but he doesn’t know where she’ll sleep. He needs order. He’s too exhausted to run, frozen until he knows what comes next. He hasn’t the words to explain.
In the end it is his nurse who approaches him. “Jensen, honey, you can’t stay here, you’ll get ill again. Do you want to get sick? Jared doesn’t want you to be sick. Why don’t we go back inside, get something to eat?”
Jensen doesn’t know what to say. There’s a gentle rocking motion that starts in his upper body and spreads.
Jared is out of his mind with worry and close to tears. He didn’t think he was forcing Jensen to come home with him, but here they are. Jensen is freaked out and it’s all because he made assumptions. It’s obvious that Jensen doesn’t want to go with him. The tramp is sitting motionless on the sidewalk, and there is no moving him or communicating with him.
The businessman had run back into the hospital, searched room to room until he found Jensen’s regular nurse. She had rushed to help him but she is having no better luck. Jared watches as she stretches up and meets his eye. He spreads his arms wide in despair, “I didn’t do anything.”
“Nobody said you did, Mr. Padalecki. Stop worrying! Something is bothering him but I’m sure it’s not you. You’ll have to excuse what I’m going to do next; I think Jensen needs some firm encouragement.” She crouches in front of Jensen once more, takes both of his hands and gently squeezes them until she gets a reaction. The green eyes flash with fear and annoyance and Jensen tries to pull away.
“Mr. Ackles, you are blocking a public highway and that is an offence. We can move inside together or I can call for help and there will be orderlies who will sedate you. I will be obliged to contact Doctor Singh and possibly admit you to a psychiatric ward. Do you want that?”
Jared runs his hands over his face. There’s no answer to her question, but Jensen struggles violently and the nurse loses her grip on his hands. A waiting orderly moves in behind him, to restrict his arms and Jared wishes he didn’t have to see the panicked and pained expression it brings to his friend.
The nurse speaks again, “I know you need to talk about something Jensen. If we let you go, will you speak to me? Anything, a single word. We’ll work it out. We don’t need to give you an injection, do we?”
The nurse nods and the orderly gradually loosens his grip. Jen looks defeated, and it’s heartbreaking for Jared. Jensen had shown such unusual joy only the same morning.
The nurse signs, ‘speak’
Jensen shakes his head and it’s a start. Ten minutes later they are in a quiet corner of the cafeteria but Jensen still hasn’t spoken. Jared sits close and has been waiting, silent with him. Jensen is delving into his rucksack. He takes out his familiar leather journal and places it on the table. Jared exchanges a hopeful look with Jensen’s nurse. There’s more searching and Jensen withdraws the shiny anonymous key from its hiding place. He places it on top of his journal.
“We can wait.” Jared reassures, because at least they are warm here, and Jensen is no longer fearful and panicking.
It seems like an age before long elegant fingers move and Jensen’s nurse translates. ‘There’s no plan. I don’t know what comes next.’
Jared wants to reply quickly, of course there is, Jensen has a bed and a place to sleep. They are taking a cab home. That is what comes next. He holds his tongue until he’s thought about all the possible meanings of the statement. He’s looking at the journal and he remembers lists and schedules. List after list, after list. Days of them. The same routine every day. What was it that Jim said about Jen? You could set a clock by his activity? The tension ebbs from him. There’s a solution to this.
Jared replies, “Shall we make a plan?”
‘I can’t. I don’t know how we fit together.’ Jensen looks perplexed as the nurse gives the message to Jared.
“We should make it together and then it will have you and me and together. Will you show me how? Can you show me one of your plans?”
Jensen is unclipping his journal and flipping through. ‘It’s not the same. There’s no together’ Then he’s turning the key in his hand, letting it shine and reflect light before rapidly signing once more, ‘I had together plans with Josh and Ma.’
“Can you remember them?”
Jensen pushes the key at Jared and nods his head before signing again. ‘I can show you. They are somewhere else. We need a plan to get them.’
Jared is beginning to get a headache. He doesn’t know how he will have the patience to deal with this every day. It is the first real doubt he has had. Even through Dr. Singh’s consultation he hadn’t let himself imagine daily life, and he’s grateful that Jensen doesn’t seem to pick up on his mood. It doesn’t last for long, warm fingers grab at his hand and hold on and Jared knows enough to understand that it is a big deal for Jensen to reach for him without prompt. Irritation melts away. They can do this.
Even when Jensen was making the plan with him, Jared hadn’t pictured the surreal atmosphere of this. It is an exclusive bank, one that Arab millionaires and the mafia would likely favor, and Jensen walks in to a respectful, personal greeting.
The vault is surprisingly airy and Jensen doesn’t seem to notice the restrictive security and intimidating cameras. Instead, he twirls with his arms held wide and breathes in the slightly antiseptic, pumped air.
The deposit box is opened easily with a metallic click, and there are stacks of envelopes with handwritten dates. Jared reaches in to touch because the top stack has one with a label that includes the day of the Linden fire. The thick paper crackles as he handles it and his curiosity is burning hot. He can barely contain the desire to open it up and tip out its pages. Jensen doesn’t seem to care; he is hunting through the packets. He takes out a pile and underneath it Jared sees stacks of something else. Stiff notes lie untouched in paper binders, stacked wad on wad, thousands of dollars, hidden away in the steel box. Jen finds what he is looking for. He withdraws a small black purse with two more keys and goes to retrieve the box that holds even more money and every detail of his daily life from ten years ago.
Jared is relieved that there is no notepaper and he can’t sign. He is trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Jensen, with all his theoretical business and accountancy qualifications, with all his obvious brilliance, has kept his Becks compensation payment in boxes. Instead of earning interest he is paying to store it within a cool steel vault. He keeps it with the story of his life, neat, documented and clearly untouched, while he chooses to live on the street.
As if that weren’t mind blowing enough, Jensen is holding out diary pages, plans and lists and they are every bit as detailed as the ones that Jared has already seen in Jensen’s journal. There’s a sick twist in his guts as he considers that Jensen has done this every day, for years. He has watched Jeff, Jared and Misha and recorded the intricate details of their daily lives. Specifically, he would have noted moments of Misha’s life, where he went, who he met, what he did. Jared’s mind is turning on the possibilities and they are grim. He picks up envelopes with diary pages over the past year and asks if he can take them, to look at later. Jensen adds ancient envelopes of his own choice and they place them neatly into the document wallet provided by the bank.
It isn’t a lengthy stop. The bank attendant smiles at them and tells them to have a nice day. The cab is still waiting and they climb in. All things considered, Jensen is looking remarkably well and is breathing with ease. He sidles awkwardly to Jared’s side of the cab, to share close warmth.
Jared is reminded how the silent man drives a hard bargain, when Jensen’s hand lands heavily on his thigh and starts a slow slide toward the zipper of his suit pants. There’s a playful shine in his eyes. They had worked through their plan for today with Jensen’s nurse interpreting, and despite it being unlikely, Jared could swear that Jensen had revelled in Jared’s discomfort whenever he had signed the words, ‘private time.’ “Ah, ah,” Jared breathes into Jensen’s ear in rebuke, “Not next on the list.”
Jensen pretends not to hear him, but there is obvious enthusiasm as Jared shifts to meet his touch.
Of course, private time could mean anything from collapsing on the couch and watching TV, to resting in their rooms with a book, or sketching. It was pretty damn obvious that Jensen had meant none of these things and by the time they had finished bargaining private time was high on the list after going to the bank, taking a cab home and feeding Sadie, and well, nothing else. There are no tasks on the list after it, except meds and bedtime, which is of course, a sensible regimen for a convalescent. Then again, a convalescent wouldn’t normally have this particular gleam in their eye as their thumb rubs a circle over the growing shape of Jared’s hardening cock and teases him with the downward tug of his zipper tag.
“Fuck! Jen.” He growls, but he doesn’t push the hand away. The jacket he is wearing goes a little way to hiding the activity of Jensen’s nimble fingers but Jared is sure that the cabbie is taking more frequent glances into his mirror. Jared’s breath is uneven and he can feel the heat glowing red in his face. It is taking every bit of self control to not cry out or buck up into the hand that is burrowing into his underwear. He has never done anything as wrong or as exciting as this. “Boundaries!” he gasps at Jensen, and bites at his lip as clever fingers tug his length. “We can learn boundaries another day,” he pants, as a finger dips into his slit and rubs pre-come over the head of his cock.
Jensen’s other hand reaches out to shush Jared's mouth, but the fingers linger there as Jensen studies his lips in fascination. There’s a push and slide as the same fingers dart into his mouth and stroke at his tongue. It’s a peculiar thing to do but it doesn’t stop it from feeling good. Jared closes his lips and sucks down on the fingers and Jensen pulls them away in alarm. He remembers his promise, “Sorry, sorry,” he whispers but Jensen is looking at the wet saliva on the pads of his digits and touching them between his own lips with lewd suction before putting them back on Jared’s and pushing in again. By now Jared is certain that the cabbie cannot be unaware of the activity in his back seat and he can’t find the care to worry about it. The only prayer he offers up is that they don’t crash while in this compromising situation.
There is a thrill that courses through every nerve of his body and trickles of sweat slip down his chest, sticking to the cotton of his shirt. There’s a wet stain in his pants as Jensen increases the pressure and pace that he’s stripping his cock and Jared knows he can’t hold on. He’s whimpering. Jensen removes his fingers from Jared’s mouth and launches his lips against his mouth, hard, as if to remind him to be quiet. He’s being tongue fucked and the hand around his erection isn’t stopping and then there’s the light caress of fingers lifting his shirt and leaving a wet trail to his nipples. He grinds up into Jensen’s grip one last time as he splashes warm and wet into the fabric of his pants, like an over eager teenager. Jensen sucks his tongue hard, preventing him from babbling or screaming but there’s still a low, satisfied groan that leaves his throat.
He collapses back into the vinyl seat and Jensen tucks the sticky, softening dick and underwear in, zips Jared's pants, then pats his thigh. Jared comes back to himself to realize that the cabbie is taking a long detour with a dirty grin on his face and Jensen has an obvious hard lump in his jeans which Jared has done nothing to alleviate. He reaches his hand to cup at Jensen’s groin but a hand snatches it and pushes it away before it can settle. Jensen looks fierce and Jared is being forced to remember his promise once more.
The cab pulls into his drive and Jared is relieved that Lorretta has gone home early and Jeff has promised not to come home until late. He’s aware of the stickiness in his groin, the redness of his lips and his relaxed mood. He doesn’t imagine that there would be much of an introduction, aside from, “Hi. This is Jensen, now get lost."
He pays the driver and tips him well, but the man demands a valet cleaning charge for his back seat and Jared doesn’t have the temerity to argue. The driver waves cordially as he leaves.
Jensen didn’t know it would be like this. The power to reduce this strong, controlled man to a quivering, groaning mess in such a public way is intoxicating. He knows he crossed boundaries, he had only meant to tease. He wanted to see what would happen if he put his hand there. It had started as intellectual curiosity but he had seen the response, the darkening pupils, the pink pinpoints on his cheek and the squirm, then the thickening length of their cocks. It had been there before, at the sports center but then he couldn’t identify any feelings or emotions. That time he had wanted to subdue Jared and somehow it had become complicated.
The ease with which he could read Jared’s desire this time was unique and shocking. He’d wanted more and immediate gratification. It had stirred a response deep in the belly of his being, which had him shaking with his own desire yet there was still no wish to be crushed to another and taken. The thrill was in the silky slick and slide of Jared’s erect flesh, the stretched neck and hot breath and the way this tall man came undone, just by Jensen's touch and kiss. It is an intensity of emotion that is readable and he knows he could become addicted to it.
It’s hard to come down from his high when he emerges from the cab but he’s home and it’s right, comforting, exciting and overwhelming all at once. Once inside Sadie barrels into him, leaning against his knees and nudging at his hand with affection and a rough wet tongue. He kicks off his shabby shoes and drops his rucksack to sit on the floor and hug her close, bury his face into her fur and ruffle at it. He has missed her with an ache which is almost physical. Her tail wags and her whole body moves with it. He thinks she may have missed him too.
Jared looks as though he is expecting some sort of reaction from Jensen but he can’t imagine what it is, so he gets up and moves to get some cold water from the fridge. He walks down the hall with his arms stretched out, feeling the temperature and color of the walls in a way he couldn’t when he was here before, with gloves on. He hums his satisfaction at the texture. It feels right. He should probably feign difficulty finding what he needs, but he’s got a glass of water in no time and Jared follows him into the kitchen without comment. He leans on the counter to drink the cool liquid and only remembers the manners his mother taught him when Jared pushes by to get his own drink. He signs ‘sorry’ but he doesn’t think Jared understands.
Jensen is suddenly exhausted. His legs feel like jelly and his head is spinning. Jared must see the difference in him. He is asking permission to hold on to him and Jensen nods wearily. Jared snakes one arm around his waist and lets him lean in, taking his weight. It’s not pleasant but it’s not scary either. He lets himself be manhandled to the bright studio and collapses onto a wide, low bed with a bouncy, firm mattress and bright, friendly linens. There’s a slight breeze that moves a rainbow of drapes in a blowing arch and they catch at Sadie’s tail as she follows loyally to collapse by his feet. It’s safe, comfortable and love. He lets his eyelids drag over his eyes.
Jared watches as Jensen loses the battle to keep those remarkable green eyes open. He lifts the comforter and tucks it over the pale, sleeping man and Sadie shifts and presses closer to Jensen. Jared doesn’t know what to feel. He’s carried out one of the most daring and unwise sex acts he has ever known. It was unexpected and incredible and with a man who didn’t appear to reciprocate the feeling. Jensen had an erection but it had faded. There had been no acknowledgement or chance to bask in the afterglow. He knows he can’t climb into bed with Jensen without permission, so this is him, alone, in dirtied pants, with his shirt rumpled and sweaty and his partner fast asleep, content without him. It’s still one of the best things to ever happen to him.
He leaves Jen and Sadie to sleep, takes a hot shower, and changes into jeans and a tee-shirt. He picks up the stack of documents that they collected from the bank, curls himself into the corner of his giant sofa and opens an envelope. He takes Jensen’s readiness to allow him access to the pages as his implicit permission to read them but it still feels like snooping.
The early pages have a mixture of handwriting, Jensen’s tiny, neat script and a looped easy flow that he identifies as Josh’s. There is no reference to personal or general life simply plans and schedules, times and places and a meticulous attention to time for hygiene and cleanliness. These will be the format for schedules that Jensen wants to emulate and integrate into their current life together. Dotted between pages are plastic holders with certificates and marked work. There were on-line courses, a small number of community college classes and some weekend university seminars which Josh had accompanied him to. His rate of learning was astonishing but it is clear there was little else to distract him, aside from chores, the occasional art class with Grandma Padalecki and bible study with the local preacher.
There is reference to Josh’s research into Jensen’s behavior and the lists and schedules start to reflect the work that Josh was doing with his brother to help him understand it and cope. Jared can’t bring himself to look at the entry for the day of the Becks explosion. He skips pages and finds that the weeks after Josh died are incomplete and randomly scribbled out or splashed with small, round water-stains. The only reference to his Ma is one that catalogs her inability to participate or communicate with others, and the growing stack of empty bottles in their trailer. He sees his own name once or twice but he skims over those paragraphs, unable to read about his part in this tragedy.
The diary picks up as evidence of on-line law study is inserted. The court case breathed life into Jensen and he returned to using Josh’s methods, lists and schedules, to get through his day. The hate and bitterness is discernible in every stroke of his pen.
There is a special marker inserted two months after the final compensation was awarded, the day of Grandma Padalecki’s funeral. Jared knows the date off by heart. It is a tiny but beautiful painting of ten black roses. The delicate brush strokes and subject are well known to him as his grandmother’s. Behind it lies a stamped envelope in the sick scrawl of Grandma Padalecki’s last days, when she was bedridden and weary. He touches the script reverently, runs the pads of his fingers over it and turns it in his hand, but he doesn’t intrude on what appears to be a deeply private document. He replaces the painting and the envelope and continues.
There’s a strange arc to the diary after that entry. Jensen’s attitude softens and it becomes about getting through his day and his attempts to get his mother out of her near trance-like state, with little success. There is a very gradual swing to an interest in Padalecki Inc., Jared’s father’s affairs and the state of the business as a whole.
He’s engrossed in reading when his watch alarm sounds and he realizes with a start that he has been like this for hours. Jensen’s meds are overdue and Jeff will be home from whatever club he has been drinking at. He shuffles through to the kitchen and shakes capsules from the medicine jar, draws a fresh jug of water and takes it through to Jensen.
Jensen stirs at Jared’s touch. Too tired to object, he sits leaning into the solid warmth of Jared’s chest long enough to take his medicine before a quiet snore starts back up. Jared stays sitting behind him, relishing the close contact, trailing gentle fingers through the soft spiked hair and letting his eyes close as he relaxes into it. For a moment it reminds him of the night that he took medicine from Jensen’s hand and Jensen stayed to comfort him.
Part 18
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